#this little bastard has a chokehold on us all

[zillychu]

ghost boy got me again

[joekeeryswife]

arranged marriage 1 - f.c

hey honeys! i hope you enjoyed my last imagine. writing for Felix legit has me in a chokehold. dickhead!felix (im sorry!) mean reader at the start then she turns sweet, i also suck at endings so please ignore how bad it is and the spelling mistakes lol.

anyways, here’s another angst to fluff imagine, Felix is 22 and reader is 20! enjoy reading 🩰

taglist🩰 (add yourselves here): @hummusxx @lalademie @kikiandbella @anamiad00msday @saltburntt @livvy256 @gee72sstuff please make sure your @ are on otherwise i cannot tag you!!

“mum seriously? Felix? as in the only person i absolutely hate with a passion Felix?” your mum rolled her eyes at your outburst. it wasn’t a shock to her that you were mad, you and Felix had grown up together but for some reason the two of you never got along. your parents had grown up together and had obviously been planning this for some time.

“i’m sorry sweetheart but yes, it will be good for the two of you to finally get along, he is a really sweet boy you know” you huffed “we could get along without getting married? i mean, i’m only 20 years old. i have my whole life ahead of me to get married” you ran a hand through your hair.

“why do i not get a say in this? shouldn’t i be able to say yes or no to this?” you were frustrated, you hated Felix. and no marriage certificate was ever going to change that. “stop being silly y/n. Elspeth is so excited to have you as a daughter in law, she loves you” your mum tried to end it there but you were not giving up.

“dad please tell her she is being irrational, there is no way you have agreed to this as well” you looked over at your dad “i’m sorry honey but i have agreed and so has the Catton family. you have no idea how good this would be for us, you will be bringing two very strong bloodlines together” you wanted to scream.

marrying Felix was the worst possible thing to probably ever happen in your life. Felix was an asshole to you, rude, snobby and ignorant. he thought he was this incredible man but in reality he was just a bastard, and you would be marrying him? you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you.

“i’m sure the two of you will get along just fine, you’re being a little dramatic honey. you’re going to have a beautiful dress, a beautiful ceremony, it’ll be amazing. and Felix is a very a handsome boy and you are a gorgeous girl, your kids will be absolutely perfect” you choked on your saliva

“kids? mum are you joking? i’m begging you, please don’t force me to marry him, my life will be a misery” your mum shook her head. “enough. this is final. you will marry Felix, end of story” your dad said making you and your mum look at him. you did not ever think that you would be in an arranged marriage with Felix Catton.

“now, get ready darling, we are going to saltburn to celebrate” this was going to be hell.

-♡-

“Felix darling, will you come here for a moment please?” Felix heard his mother call out as he walked past the living room. he saw his mum and dad sat on the sofa next to each other with huge smiles on their faces. he walked into the living room and sat on the sofa opposite the two of them “should i be worried?” he said jokingly, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“no of course not” his mum laughed. “we have some news for you which you may not like the sound of at first, but, i think the idea will grow on you” his dad said, excitement filling his voice.

“we have been speaking to y/n’s parents” Felix rolled his eyes at the mention of your name. “and we have all collectively decided that it’s time for the two of you to finally know that you will be getting married” Elspeth squealed in excitement.

his jaw dropped “isn’t that amazing? oh god it’s so nice for the secret to finally be out” his father seemed just as ecstatic as his mother.

“you are joking right?” his mothers smile faltered “no, it’s not, you two are getting married. oh i am so thrilled Felix, we have been planning this for ages and now that you both know i think it’s really set it in stone.” he shook his head at her.

“no, absolutely not. i’m sorry but there is no way in hell that i am marrying y/n” he shook his head and laughed. “this is bullshit, we fucking hate each other, why the fuck would you two even think that is a good idea?” he felt sick. “Felix, don’t use that type of language please” Elspeth said.

“mum, she’s a bitch. you really think i want to marry her?” James shook his head “she is a lovely girl. it’ll be good for us Felix. and it will be nice for you two to get along” Felix scoffed at his father. “you guys can plan this as much as you want, but i am not marrying that girl. i am 22 years old and i am old enough to make my own decisions, no is no”

“you will be, sorry Felix but it’s already started to be planned. the two of you will be getting married so you best start to try and get along. you guys will be moving into a lovely house after your honeymoon, you two will be fine” Elspeth said, her voice stern.

“now, since you know the news, go get ready. we are having a huge party to celebrate your engagement” he scoffed and walked away from his parents. this was going to be a long night.

-♡-

your mother had already picked out your engagement party dress and to be honest she did a good job of picking it. the dress wasn’t too over the top which you were grateful for. this whole idea of getting married to someone you hated was a lot of getting used too. you didn’t even have a ring yet which you knew would make it feel more real.

when you envisioned yourself your life you didn’t expect to get married for a few more years, and you would be getting married to someone you actually loved. you never thought your parents would force you to get married to anyone, let alone Felix. “are you excited for the party?” your mum said pulling you out of your thoughts.

you gave her a tight lipped smile and nodded “look, i know it’s not what you wanted but we wouldn’t do it if we didn’t think it would work out. you and Felix will love each other in no time. i think when you two spend time together you will start to really like him” she grabbed ahold of your hand.

you were honestly willing to try the marriage thing for the sake of your parents, Felix was nice to everyone but you and you wanted to find out why. “oh, we invited practically everyone we know so be prepared to show fake smiles” she added as you stopped outside of Saltburn. knowing that you had to be lovey dovey with Felix made you anxious, it’s not like it was going to be easy when the two of you despised each other.

“right, let’s get this over with” you said as you exited the car, your mum scoffed “don’t speak like that y/n, you will enjoy yourself” she said as she linked her arm with your fathers. you followed behind the two of them and looked around the front garden of Saltburn, it had been covered in all different types of gold decorations.

Duncan the butler was waiting for you all at the front of the house, even though it was a party his face was still nonchalant. “theyre all waiting for you in the back garden, guests have already began to arrive.” your mother and father thanked him and made their way inside “not even going to break a smile for me, this is a party after all” you joked “enjoy the party y/n” he said making you laugh and brush past him. there was no breaking Duncan.

you made your way to the back garden which was just like the front, covered in gold decorations with guests slowly filling every section dressed in their party attire. you spotted Elspeth, James and Felix with your parents and you knew you would have to go over there. you put on your best brave faces d made your way over there.

Felix looked miserable as he stood next to his mother his eyes fixated on the grass. he hated the thought of you, he hated the thought of the two of you getting married even more. “aww there is the beautiful bride to be” he heard his mother say which made him look up from the ground.

now, even though you and Felix hated each other, there was no way he’d lie and say you weren’t beautiful because you were. you were one of the most beautiful people he had ever met. but that didn’t change the fact that he thought you were the most annoying person he’d ever met.

“gosh you look gorgeous” Elspeth said as you finally stood next to your parents. she pulled you into a hug and kissed your cheek. “now that you are here we can talk to you both. we know that the two of you don’t get along but we are very happy that you are going along with the arrangement. we promise you both that it will be all worth it in the end” James spoke quietly but loud enough for you all to hear. they obviously didn’t want people knowing that it was an arranged marriage.

“we will see about that dad, this is the worst day of my life” Felix said shaking his head. hearing him say that hurt you a little bit and you didn’t know why. you didn’t show the hurt on your face and you were quick with a comeback “likewise, i’d rather drown in bleach then have to marry you but here we are”

“why don’t the two of you go talk to one another about it? it might be good for you two to have an actual conversation instead of arguing all the time. go to the library, there isn’t anybody in there” Elspeth said looking between the two of you. “oh and if you see any guests and they congratulate you, please act like the two of you love each other” she added as the two of you started, asking your way to the library.

the walk to the library was silent until one of the Henry’s and his wife stopped the two of you “there is the happy couple. we have been waiting for the two of you to get together since you were young. you look gorgeous together” Henry’s wife said. your sour expression was quickly forgotten and you tried your best to show you were happy by putting the fake smile on your face.

you felt Felix’s arm go around your waist. “thank you, it didn’t take too much convincing” you said as convincing as possible. “let me see your ring dear, it must be beautiful” your eyes widened, you did not think about that at all. “it’s at the jewellers, i accidentally got the wrong size so we need to get her a temporary ring until her real one comes back” Felix was quick with his answer.

“how did you propose Felix? was it romantic?” you both nodded “very, we were on a couples holiday. we went for dinner and then we went for a walk along the beach and i just got down on one knee when i felt like the time was right” how was he so quick with these answers?

“wow, that is truly romantic. anyways, we don’t want to keep you guys for any longer. congratulations you two” with that the two of them walked toward the garden. “how the fuck did you come up with that so quickly?” you said as you both also continued walking. “dunno, i just made it up” his voice was flat and his arm dropped from your waist.

the two of you reached the library and Felix closed the door behind him. you sat on the sofa and he sat next to you awkwardly “so, how are you feeling about this situation then?” you spoke trying to stop the awkwardness. “how do you think? i’m being forced to marry a girl who i despise” he scratched the back of his neck.

“well, i’m not ecstatic about it either but, we have to do it. we just need to try and be nice to one another and i think it could work out. it’s gonna be awkward but-” he cut you off quickly “do you really think i’m gonna try work this out? with you? you must be out of your mind” he started, you didn’t like where this was going at all.

“you are the most annoying person i’ve ever met, you do realise this marriage is just to make our parents look good? there is no way i will try work this out with you. i will never like you, i will never love you. you’re just going to be a person i’m being forced to live with” you looked at him “you are unlovable. no one will ever fall in love with you, you are that frustrating. your parents probably agreed to this marriage because they know no one else will fall in love with you” his tone was harsh. hearing him say that broke you.

you could feel your eyes filling with tears which you tried to conceal as best you could but it was no use. even though you hated him his words cut deep. “that’s a really fucked up thing to say” you shook your head and got up to walk away, slamming the library door as you walked to the nearest bathroom. you could feel your chin quiver as you sniffled, trying your best to keep your tears at bay.

Felix knew that was a low blow, and he regretted his choice of words as soon as they left his mouth. he was left in the huge library, the deafening silence making him feel even worse for how he spoke to you. the two of you always threw insults at each other but nothing like that, ever.

he could tell that you were trying to make the best out of a shitty situation and he had to ruin it by overstepping the mark. he knew that he was going to have to apologise to you because he did, that time, take it too far. he spotted Theo, another butler stood at the end of the hallway. “did you see where she went?” he asked him as he shoved one of his hands in his pocket.

“she walked into the bathroom down that way sir” Theo pointed in the direction you had gone, he nodded “thanks” he started making his way to the bathroom and once he was outside the door he could hear your quiet sobs. he didn’t know what to do, he didn’t think the person he was about to comfort would be you let alone for something he said.

he knocked on the door gently, he heard your sobs stop. “who is it?” you called out, trying your best to hide the waver in your voice. “can i come in?” he questioned. he was stood outside the door for a couple of minutes before he heard you unlock the door. he walked into the bathroom and saw you sat on the floor next to the door.

he cautiously sat down next to you, not knowing how you were going to react. “look, i’m sorry for what i said. that took it too far and i am truly sorry. i’m just stressed about the situation and i took it out on you and i shouldn’t have done that” you just nodded and looked down at your lap.

he sighed, he knew that both of you would have to figure out a plan. the two of you were getting married which seemed scary to both of you and if you went through with it with out a plan it would just crumble. he spoke “so” you looked up from your lap to look at him “we need a plan” you nodded again. “how do you wanna do this?”

[fanaticsnail]

Pretty Red Ribbon

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 2,700+

Synopsis: After your birthday was ruined last year at the hands of a certain pink-feather-donning, glasses-wearing gentleman who you love to hate, your fellow warlord, Sir Crocodile, gives you a little gift you did not expect to darken your doorstep.

Themes: Doflamingo x f!reader, birthday, enemies to lovers, nsfw themes, suggestive content, not explicit - but mdni just in case, warlord!reader, platonic crocodile x reader, dom!reader x sub!doflamingo, gendered terms used

Notes: I had been wanting to write for Doflamingo for a while, and the art by @wesaier gave me the final shove that I needed to get it done. (Their Rosinante also has me in a chokehold. I adore their work. Also, happy birthday!) First time writing a proper fic-length for Doffy before his series.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @vespidphoenix @mfreedomstuff

The soft growl of the den-den-mushi atop your kitchen bench began rattling and humming in an awakened dance. The steam from the scorching water in the kettle whistled in unison to the rumbling call, the rattle of teacups on trays causing your attention to pull in a variety of directions in your large kitchen.

“I’ll get it, Miss,” your employee called from the corner of the room, his body carrying his vast height towards the den-den in three lengthy strides. He picked up the transponder end of the snail, elevating the mouth and earpiece to his face. Thanking him with a smile, you returned to continue readying yourself a cup of your desired tea. 

“You really shouldn’t be making this for yourself, Miss,” your lady’s maid addressed you over your shoulder, “You employ us to take care of you and your needs. You should let us do our jobs and spoil you, especially on a day like today-.”

“-And that will be the last I hear about anything regarding ‘today’, Dinah,” you scolded her with a playful wink, “It’s just another day, and I would like to have it remain as such,” you moved the loose-leaf strainer in your teapot, collecting the remnants of the scorched leaves and discarded them, “Besides, I always love being in the kitchen with you all after another stupid meeting at the world-government headquarters. They always seem to gather any excuse to call us all in: exercising their rights as masters and holders of the tight leash. Absolute bastards, the lot of them.”

“And we adore you down here, Miss,” Dinah lulled her head on your shoulder and laced her hands around your midsection, “We love the gossip about the other warlords, and we always enjoy hearing about your day. You take such good care of all of us, but I think we all just wish you’d let us celebrate your birthday-.”

“-Absolutely not, Dinah,” you giggled at the younger woman embracing you, unlacing her hands from your waist and collecting your teacup and saucer from the tray you had prepared, “Last time I attempted to celebrate this day, I was held up for a multitude of times because that stupid Donquixote continued to ask stupid questions that had the meeting at the marine base go overtime. Missed reservations, didn’t make it to check in time at the homestead - and didn’t even get to enjoy that bottle of wine I ordered for myself. I swore that would be the last time I attempted to celebrate, and that’s that.”

“Just because your last birthday was ruined last year doesn’t mean you should swear them all off, Miss,” your handmaid smiled at you, “We’d adore making you feel special if you’d let us. Today is free of Donquixote Doflamingo, after all.” You growled at just the mention of his name, feeling your disdain elevating in your throat as a sour bile. 

“I despise that tall pelican man. I loathe him, hate him even,” you confessed, prompting Dinah to huff a small laugh in response. You groaned out more frustrated admissions to your lady’s maid, “I would have him drawn and quartered, hung and splayed, whipped and chained. I could wring his neck and spit in his face if I knew the sick bastard wouldn’t like it.” 

“I’m sure he would appreciate any scrap of your attention,” Dinah teased you with a sly tone, her eyes twinkling with mischief, “He seems to vie for your head to turn, by any means necessary.”

“He vexes me, torments me,” you continued, much to your handmaid's delight, “He needs to be knocked down a couple of pegs. Be made to crawl on all fours and beg like a dog-.”

“-Apologies for the interruption, Miss. I’m sorry to disturb your polite conversation,” the larger man holding the den-den-mushi to his ear held out the earpiece and transceiver to you, “Sir Crocodile is on the other end of the call. Says he has something for you.” You groaned out an exasperated breath before taking the shell into your hand.

“Thank you, Arturo. I’m sorry you had to hear that. I got a little fiery for a moment there,” you nodded to the man, who straightened his back before taking your saucer from your hands. He smiled down at you, moving to his place next to Dinah, anchoring his hips and leaning back against the sink with a smirk.

“What’s the call about?” Dinah whispered in a hushed rush to Arturo beside her.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Arturo hushed back his own scratchy whisper, attempting to hold back his laughter. You shot them both a sharp look, your smirk still drawn up on your pursed lips. 

You raised the end to your ear and huffed out a sigh, calling into the piece, “Sir Crocodile? To what do I owe the pleasure of your voice gracing me today?” A rumble of silence purred through the receiver against your ear, a lengthy puff of smoke coursing through the grimace of the crocodilian man.

“I heard it was somebody’s birthday,” the rattle of his drawl taunted you through the crackled speaker. You shot your employees a dark look, prompting them to immediately spin on their heels and return to their duties. You groaned as you turned to face away from them, still holding the shell to your ear. 

“Not a cause for celebration, Sir,” you purse your lips, examining your fingernails and cuticles, “But I appreciate your call regardless.” Your tone depicted your smile, truth spilling from your lips as you truly meant every word. 

Sir Crocodile was your closest and oldest ally of all the warlords presented to you. You enjoyed sitting by him, both basking in the aura of one another. You held each other in the highest regard, you could even call each other ‘friend’ without it stretching too far out of the ordinary. What solidified your bond the most with one another was your complete and utter dislike for Donquixote Doflamingo. 

“The appreciation is reciprocated, Highness,” Crocodile’s smirk purred through the receiver, “Which is why I decided to send you a little gift. Should be darkening your doorstep right about now.” 

“Sir Crocodile, while I appreciate the sentiment,” you acknowledge his gesture with a kind and even tone, shaking your head as you take your den-den to the front door of your manor, “The only thing I really want is that feather-wearing asshole: stripped down, bound and gagged, on his lanky knees and looking up with his eyes all watery and pleading,” you reached the door, opening it and shrieking in shock as your eyes met with the gift presented before you.

His body was bound in a thick length of red ribbon, chest bare and hands bound behind his back in seastone cuffs. Pointed glasses lay askew on his face with his lips gagged by a ball strapped to his face. Drool gathered at the base of his chin, his glassy eyes looking up at your face with bewilderment. His bare chest was strangled beneath the red ribbon, his pants hanging limply over his hips as the top button and zipper exposed his slender adonis belt. 

Lips falling slack, you almost dropped the shell from your ear as shock wrote itself over your features. Donquixote Doflamingo was bound, gagged and on his knees on your front doorstep: entirely at your mercy. 

“I thought topping it with a pretty red bow would be too on the nose,” Sir Crocodile called over the mushi, “But he is apprehensively allowing himself to be on the receiving end of your retribution, given his disruption of your last birthday celebration.”

No words gathered in your mind, all thoughts racing as the wealthy Donquixote continued to hold his gaze against your own. His lips trembled around the gag, his brow triangulating in an upward peak as he darted his eyes between yours to gauge your intent. 

He had no idea what possessed him to accept this little adventure, and he did not remember agreeing to be cuffed, gagged and without his entourage. As he witnessed the wicked streak spark within your eyes, he truly had no idea what you were going to do with him like this. Without a whisper of admission to it, he truly did everything in his power to gain your attention and hold it for as long as he could. He’d go through great lengths to be subject to your steely gaze.

Ruining your birthday last year was when he felt he truly went too far. You kept your private life quiet for the most part, only a select few were privy to the knowledge of your innermost thoughts. When he was made aware by Sir Crocodile how far he managed to spoil the occasion, he was given a choice by the cigar-smoking gentleman: “Your left hand, or to be subject to her mercy?” 

He thought he made the appropriate choice. 

Evidently, he did not know the extent Sir Crocodile was going to take his punishment. 

“Do you like your gift, Highness?” the voice cracked through the receiver after several moments pause, “Or would you like to return it? Got one in a similar shade and style?” You giggled into the mouthpiece, prompting Sir Crocodile to chuckle his own sinister laughter. 

“I think I’ll keep it,” you purred, holding your eyes half-hooded as you reached your index finger down to swipe the collected drool from his chin. Doflamingo whimpered as you hooked your finger beneath his jaw, prompting him to fall forward and lean into your touch, “How long do I have it for?” you hovered your face above his, uttering a final question, “And in what condition should I intend to keep it in?”

“Your prerogative, Highness,” Sir Crocodile confessed, drawing up a large breath of smoke in his mouth and exhaling, “Use him, abuse him, torment him, torture him: he is yours to play with for the next fourty-eight hours. Happy birthday, Dear.” At the final utterance, Sir Crocodile clicked the end of the receiver off: leaving your snail to crackle its muffled voice shut. 

You hummed in deep thought, gazing down your nose at the tall man who, even on his knees, is nearly at eye height. Moving his face in your hands, you clicked your tongue as one would when examining an object intended for purchase. He whimpered further when your hands began exploring his torso as you circled his body. Your fingertips felt like lightning on his skin, igniting his expectations and triggering his wanton intrigue. 

“If I remove the gag and seastone cuffs,” you whisper into his ear, trailing your fingertips down his spine, “Will you behave yourself, pelican?” He nodded frantically, lulling his head back on his shoulders to bring himself closer to you. You hummed in thought, hooking your fingers over the material tugging the gag over his lips. 

“Feel better?” you asked him, maneuvering around his body to face him once again, “Less restricted and more of your repulsive self?” 

Taking a moment to roll his tongue in his mouth to regain the sensation, he felt himself relax into your touch as you loosened the cuffs. He moaned as your hands caressed his wrists to reignite the blood flow swelling down into his fingertips. 

“Always so kind,” Doflamingo commented with his signature smirk rising to his lips, “Do you ever grow tired of being so good all the time?” His eyes searched yours, still unsure of how you were going to respond to him on his knees. 

“Would you prefer if I were cruel to you?” you arched your brow up and lowered your tone, “Abused you for my own sick entertainment?”

“You could choke me, flog me, spit in my face - better yet, in my mouth,” Doflamingo listed, his pupils blown with lust beneath his pink glasses, “You could step on me, rake me over nails and hot coals, and all I would say is: ‘thank you for a scrap of your attention’. It is your day, after all.”

“Obsessive and excessive, Donquixote,” you scolded him, tugging at the red ribbon constricting his chest to have him rise to his feet and follow you into your manor, “Why must you always provoke me?” 

“Because I want you,” he whispered after you, a small whine in his voice as he followed closely behind you. His heavy feet trotted like a prized pony after you, allowing you to lead his body throughout the halls to your manor, “I want you so badly. I want all of your attention, all of your focus. I want to be at the very center of your universe, by any means necessary.”

Making eye contact with Arturo and Dinah, both of which shot you quizzical looks as Doflamingo pranced behind you attached to a line of red ribbon. You shot them both a look to forbid them from uttering a single phrase in questioning you, prompting them to hold up their hands in defense. 

“Should I bring you your tea, Miss?” Arturo called after you as you exited the frame of the door to the kitchen, “Perhaps a couple of glasses of wine?” 

“Perhaps later, Arturo. I’ll send for you if I need you,” you mentioned over your shoulder. 

As you looked behind you, there was a foreign expression painted over Donquixote Doflamingo’s face. His cheeks were tinted with a pink dust, his eyes glassy and eyelids half-closed and gazing at you through thick, blonde eyelashes. His signature smirk was replaced by a dumbstruck, goofy smile and his giddiness adamant in each of his pepped steps. 

Scoffing and rolling your eyes at him, you lead him into the master suite of your manor and force him to kneel in the center of the room. You took a seat on your plush armchair and gaze at him disinterestedly. He was all but vibrating in anticipation for your next movement. 

“Anything to say for yourself, Donquixote?” you purse your lips crossing your legs by hooking your right knee over your left and rocking your foot at him. He crawled forward on his knees, hypnotized beneath your cold stare. Eyes meeting with yours, his lips fell agape in a perfect circle as your foot met with his chest to halt his movement. 

Looking down at your heeled shoe, he bowed low enough to brush his forehead in a deep nuzzle against your shin, rocking his head to the side and attempting to become the very picture of innocence. You leant forwards, removing his glasses from his face and glaring into his expressive eyes with a wicked glint. 

“Go on, pet,” you spat down at him, “Unless you have nothing intelligible to offer me in conversation.” He pressed his lips against your shin, grazing his mouth up your legs and inadvertently slotting himself between your knees. 

“Happy Birthday,” he uttered against your skin, pressing a lengthy kiss against your right knee and integrating his entangled self between your legs further, “And I apologize for ruining the one prior.” Peppering kisses over your knee and up your thigh, his tongue flicked out over your flesh and swirled against you. 

Patience wearing thin, you redraw your right foot back over his chest and nudge him backwards to look into his eyes. Your lips curled into a snarl, eyes narrow and accusatory as you gnash your teeth at the tall blonde on his knees in front of you. 

“If you want my forgiveness, Donquixote Doflamingo,” you whisper in a warning tone, danger written over your features enough to cause the large man to shudder beneath your wicked stare, “Beg for it.”

Forty-Eight hours was more than enough time for Doflamingo to become a begging, pleading, whimpering mess beneath your skilled and expert hands. His mind fell blank, his body not experiencing the amount of sensory overload and sensory deprivation with a partner in encounters prior.

He was always the one in control, him only ever taking and taking to provide himself the pinnacle of pleasurable experiences. To be the one out of control, to simply have to take what he was given with his mind vacant of all thoughts aside from being subject to your desires.

The only things he continued to manage to befall from his lips were three phrases: “I’m sorry,” “thank you,” and “forgive me.” Just how you wanted him: complacent, dumbstruck, and all wrapped up in a pretty red ribbon.

[wooyoungmybelovedhusband]

ɪɴɪQᴜɪᴛᴏᴜꜱ ᴊᴇʀᴋ - ʏᴊʜ

⛧ PAIRING : Gambler! Mobboss! Yoon Jeonghan x F! Reader

⛧ TROPE : Established relationship AU

⛧ GENRE : Smut, Gambling themes

⛧ SYNOPSIS : Having sat next to your boyfriend for whole three hours, got you more more than just bored.

⛧ CONTENT/WARNINGS : Bratty! Reader [I'm back with this y'all], super horny! Reader, HardDom! Jeonghan, degradation, blowjob, hair pulling, cum eating, slight ass groping, slut-shaming, Daddy kink.

⛧ WORD COUNT : 1.4k

⛧ A/N : Jeonghan has me under his chokehold y'all. be scared

⛧ DISCLAIMER : Anyone who hates or doesn't like smuts can kindly block my account. DO NOT REPORT.

Feedbacks and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

⛧ JOIN MY TAGLIST - ♛

You leaned your back on the cushions of the black leather couch. You eyed all the huge bunches of money stacked up in between the table, several different men and women sitting around the huge table as they anxiously anticipated to see the winner. Your fingers held onto the stem of your wine glass, swirling it in pure boredom you had been feeling for the whole time. But boredom wasn't all you felt, you had sat there with your mind wandering to places at the sight of your boyfriend – well almost sugar daddy – who sat with his legs spread, his pants hugging his thighs while his jaw clenched in frustration.

‘Fucking bastard’ You mutter under your breath, in annoyance, but making certain Jeonghan heard you.

His eyebrow cocks up at your curse, but his focus stays on the cards. He clenches his teeth while his hand stays on his cards. A low scoff escapes your lips at the lack of his reaction, you wanted nothing but scream at him. ‘Iniquitous Jerk’ – another curse mindlessly rolls off your tongue while you roll your eyes at the back of his head. Well who could blame you, you had been sitting there for three hours straight with nothing to do about the arousal pooling in between your legs.

You wanted him to bend you over the table and pound into you for trying to distract him in between the biggest game.

You wanted him to let his big cock sink inside your pussy while his hands caressed your ass lovingly before striking against the soft flesh.

You just wanted him and his hands all over your body, telling you to behave.

You sneakily slip your hand down to his thighs, your fingers danced on his leather covered skin. Before you could even have the thought of slipping your hand any further towards his crotch, you feel his fingers wrap around your hand and throw your hand away from his thighs – while a discreet ‘Behave’ was heard by you.

You stare off into void for the next few minutes, in pure arousal and disappointment, before you flinch hearing a loud groan from the other man next to you. And you look around to find your boyfriend smirking while his bodyguards take out three empty suitcases and bag all the money on the table. “Well played Yoon.” The older man next to you says while everyone walks out groaning and grunting.

After finally filling up the suitcases all the bodyguards eye Jeonghan for the next order. “Walk out, lock the door and wait for us. Make sure, no one even tries to enter the lounge, I've got something to take care of.” Jeonghan made sure only you were able to hear the last sentence.

He pats his thighs once he made sure the three built men left the suit, “Come here, princess.” You let out a scoff for the nth time tonight, “And why would I do that?” You taunt him, but seemingly Jeonghan's patience ran thinner than any other day, today. Maybe the man would have tolerated your behaviour for a few minutes longer usually, but today he had had enough of your little bratty blabbers through the whole night and not to forget, your scoffs and whines every few minutes had pushed him to the edge.

“Keep up with that attitude and I'll rip apart this tight little dress and make you walk out naked with my cum dripping down your legs.”

A low whimper flew from your throat before you could even have a thought of controlling it. And Jeonghan shoots you his angelic smile again, “Now, I'm asking you again, Come here, Now.”

You scramble to get yourself on top of his thigh. Jeonghan's smile morphs into a smirk at your obedience, but oh will you face the consequences. His hand comes down to the small of your back, and lowers till he's gripping the flesh of your ass harshly. “Shouldn't you start making up for your behaviour, and get on your knees by now?” Your expression changes to one of confusion. “Unless you want to be edged till we get home, and I still would not let you come.”

For a fact, you know Jeonghan isn't joking when he cocks his eyebrows while his lips part away. You swiftly sink down to your knees, your hands already working on the belt of his pants. Your fingers slip in between his waistband, pulling down his pants along with his boxers to free his cock. Your pupils dilate from excitement, and your fingers barely graze over his length before his hand is slapping yours away.

“Hands to yourself, Bad sluts don't get to touch their daddy’s cocks.”

There was hidden excitement bubbling up in you, gosh you were finally getting what you wanted the whole night. Finally getting treated like you were his slut, nothing but a cum dump for him to relieve his stress.

Your head leans forward excitedly, and Jeonghan doesn't miss the chance to taunt about that fact. “Aren't you a little too excited for a brat who was speaking nasty stuff about her daddy?” You barely try to control the bratty whine that emerges from you as you look up at him with your best puppy eyes. You knew well Jeonghan was weak for those. “Guess I have to give my slut what she wants, don't I?”

And soon, before you could comprehend, his hands intertwine between your hair locks and push you down onto his cock. Your throat constricts around his length while his hands push you down on his cock till your nose is almost touching his skin. Your eyes tear up quicker than you imagined, and your jaw struggles to take him whole. Jeonghan visibly smirks at your pathetic struggling state, feeling so powerful as he sits there leaning his back against the couch.

His hands grip tightens on your hair locks before pulling you back with a jerk. He let out a mocking chuckle at your state, tears were streaming down your cheeks and your lipstick was quite much smudged. He soon expresses a fake frustrated grunt, “Can't even fucking take my cock in her mouth like a good slut. Guess that stupid mouth is of no use is it?”

“You just caught me off guard” You defend yourself while angrily lashing back at him.

“Ah! Now don't you fucking talk back, get to work if that slutty mouth of yours is of any use.” You swiftly lowered your head back down onto his cock, while your hands were behind your back. Just like he wanted. Your plump lips moved up and down his base, while your tongue swirled around him making him throw his head back. Few strands of his hair flew to his forehead and his hands came down to slightly glide you around his cock.

“Fuck fuck fuck! Such a fucking slutty mouth you have baby? Always ready to suck daddy off isn't it?” His voice comes out hoarse followed by a loud moan. His hips try hard not to buckle right up into your mouth while his hands tightened their grip on your hair locks moving your head faster.

Jeonghan's hips finally buckle up, not being able to hold still. While his hands still your head, his hips thrust up making his dick hit the back of your throat for the second time.

Within a few seconds, you were breathing heavily through your nostrils – well trying to – and your hair was a mess under his fingers’ tight grip when you felt his hot load of cum, spill into your tongue – and some painting the roof of your mouth. Jeonghan's eyebrows furrow in delight and he throws his head back in a loud groan.

His hands take a good long lasting minute before slowly releasing you off his length with a ‘pop’. Jeonghan's heavy panting slowly dies down and regains his posture. He grips your arms and pulls you up to your feet, and makes you sit on the desk. He cups your face slowly, before letting his lips enclose yours. He could still taste himself on your tongue before he pulled away.

“Let's get to the car.” His words instantly make you exclaim, “What?!”

“Mhm, don't act greedy. You were such a good girl just now. Stay patient till we get home, and I'll fuck you till you can't walk.”

Jeonghan walks towards the door, and you follow him just two steps behind him. A scowl plastered on your face.

“Iniquitous Jerk.” – You spat under your breath. “Now, say that again, unless you want me to bend you over that table and spank your ass till it's the colour of your lipstick and not let you cum for the whole night.”

© wooyoungmybelovedhusband. Do not repost, steal or translate my work.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Ifrit and Alpha getting horny while sparring hehehehehe

The issue is not that Alpha once again managed to immobilize Ifrit - for the fourth time in their forty minutes of sparring - the issue is that Ifrit is on his back on top of him, legs pinned down by Alpha's, and held in a solid chokehold, the older fire ghoul's bicep pressing firmly against his throat.

Oh, and Ifrit is very, very fucking hard in his tight little shorts.

He can't move, the thing is - can barely breath and that's only because Alpha is letting him. Even his arms are useless, because the second Ifrit tries to use them - to claw at Alpha's own, to push himself off the ground, Alpha tightens his hold, cutting Ifrit's airways off.

He really should tap out and go take care of his aching problem, but there's something so fucking good about the way he can feel Alpha's chest rising in time with his breathing, their clamy skin sticking together, and- well. The press of Alpha's equally hard cock against Ifrit's ass is a nice bonus too.

And, if Ifrit is honest, there's something thrilling about being overpowered when you're a notoriously strong bastard. Maybe that's why being thrown around on the mat by Alpha is one of his favorite passtime.

Alpha shifts slightly, panting in Ifrit ear, using his own legs to part Ifrit's wider, and there is no way it's unintentional. The manhandling makes Ifrit's dick twitch. Fuck, he's so hard. A chuckle rumbles in Alpha's chest.

"Gettin' a little bit excited ?"

Ifrit is about to retort that Alpha is in much the same situation, but the older fire ghoul cuts it off.

"Well, go on. Your arms are free."

Heat pools in Ifrit's belly, though his face burns at Alpha's suggestion.

"I- here ?"

They didn't lock the door - didn't had any reason to, at first. Anyone could walk in. It wouldn't be a first, but fuck, the idea of getting caught never gets any less humiliating. And arousing.

Ifrit strains to suck in a deep breath, Alpha's arm still weighting on his throat. He wonders if the slightly dizzy sensation is because of the lack of oxygene or the way all his blood rushed to his cock.

"Yes, here. Come on," Alpha coos, "be a good boy and touch yourself. Must hurt, mmh ? Don't you want to feel good baby ?"

Alpha is right, it does hurt and oh, that tone- Ifrit would do anything for him if he just kept talking to him with that tone.

Ifrit's hand shakes when he reaches for his cock, palming it through his short. He's been hard for so long, dick straining against the fabric and leaving a wet stain, that even such a light touch has his whole body jolting, which only makes the choking worse, which only makes him harder. Fuck.

"Sensitive," Alpha chuckles, "come on, take it out, let me see it."

With a whine, Ifrit fishes his cock out, giving it a good stroke that makes his eyes roll back.

"There it is. Already soaking, uh ?"

Alpha is lazily rolling his hips, apparently more invested in watching Ifrit touching himself, obscene wet noises making his ears twitch. Ifrit gasps at one particular good stroke, whimpering pitifully when he finds he can't fuck into his tight fist, with how Alpha is still keeping him still.

"Sh, sh, don't pout now," the older fire ghoul huffs, "focus on the head, mmh ?"

Ifrit does, and it's so much, with how worked up he already is, he nearly puts his hand away, but Alpha tuts in his ear with that admonishing lilt to it that burrows itself under Ifrit's skin and forces him to keep torturing himself.

"Attaboy, keep going, come on."

At least Alpha's voice is breathier now, chin hooked over Ifrit's shoulder to really see his struggle.

"Ah- fuck, Alpha, too much-"

Fangs scrape against Ifrit's neck, but what really makes his rythm falter is the tail sneaking between his legs, brushing his balls.

"Alright, slow down, let's make it easy for you, mmh ?"

It's a short-lived relief, because then Ifrit can feel Alpha smilling against the side of his head.

"Use your other hand and play with you tits for me."

Ifrit's pretty sure he blacks out for a second.

Make it easy for you, Alpha said. Right, and Ifrit's the Queen of England.

He knows damn well Alpha revells in the way Ifrit's trying to writhe - to no avail. But Ifrit doesn't have the strenght to fight him, so he obediantly gropes his own chest, whinning all the way through.

And then it gets worse.

"You'll come for me like this, pretty boy, and then i'll see if I can pull those filmsy excuses for shorts to the side and fuck you like this," Alpha growls in his ear.

Ifrit let out a sob.

[lunatic-pudge]

General Medic Headcanons (Requested by poker_face_12)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Am happy to be putting some TF2 stuff out. It was feeling wrong giving Postal so much attention and not TF2. I'm also thinking about writing some stuff for Duke Nukem. I know there's not really an audience out there but he and Nick from L4D2 have been holding me in a chokehold recently

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SFW:

-My baby boy, Medic, I feel like I don't give him enough attention.

-I promise, he isn't as crazy as you think he is. Maybe. He does care about his teammates, he'll never admit it though. Always trying to make sure they take care of themselves. Sometimes it can feel a bit preachy, but he means well, truly, he does. You just gotta look past his "I'm the doctor and know what's best" attitude. But he tends to neglect listening to his own advice, like the hypocrite he is

-I'm 85% confident he has a jar of lollipops in his lab. He sometimes has to use them as a bribe, and other times as a reward, but they're actually for him cause he has an insatiable sweet tooth. That sweet tooth of his will be the cause of his downfall also. He get rather excited when Pyro bakes, cause homie knows how to make some amazing hard candy and cakes. Pyro has even made Medic a cake for his birthday, and now Py gets special treatment when in for checkups and experiments

-Loves traveling. He's a nerdy German tourist and would clear out a gift shop if given the opportunity. When, he has time, he likes to go out and travel a bit. He's so nerdy when he's out and about, it's adorable. Probably takes Heavy with him as well cause why not

-God, this man would be petty for no reason. Also very good at holding a grudge. Ain't no way this man gonna forget what Scout did to him 3 years, 5 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days ago. He will forever hold that against him. I think Medic is just being a drama queen, but that's just me. It can be hard to make it up to him. The best way is to spoil him in desserts. Only then will he CONSIDER letting the grudge go.

~

~

NSFW:

-Medic is one horny merc. Practically ready to have a little bit of fun. He's very good at hiding it, though. It's dangerous, man. Once you sleep with this man, you'll never be the same (the medussy be crazy)

-I also wouldn't out it past him to have some rather intimate moments with each merc. Nothing full on sexual, but it most certainly borders on that line. I blame it on him being fine as fuck. He really is one of the most attractive mercs (they all are but work with me here), and combine that with the German accent, not even someone like Spy could fight the charm Medic has

-Also one kinky motherfucker. This man is willing to try almost anything and everything. Some of his kinks are doctor/patient roleplay, blood, needles, BDSM (huge sadist with a little bit of masochism in him), bodily fluids, thighs (especially think ones in thigh high stockings), high heels, whips, restraints, biting/marking, and sounding to name a few.

-Man's a freak and I love him for it

-He's very much a dom, rarely will he ever be a sub. When he's a sub, he's such a brat. He likes to be so defiant cause he lives for the punishments he'll recieve. He knows the type of games he's playing. Sly bastard

(That's all I got for now. Will post more when I get ideas)

[twistedbunni]

*~Filling the Loneliness~*

A Buggy x gn!reader

Tags: mix of angst, smut and fluff basically, a bit of voyeurism too

A/n: excuse mistakes I'm very rusty at writing but this damn clown has a chokehold on my mind. I wrote this with LABuggy in mind but it could fit Anime buggy as well tbh. The only derogatory word the user is called is sl*t and it's only used once.

Word count: 6683

It was just another day of work, managing the costume shop that you'd come to own somehow. It was a relatively good sized shop, selling a variety of clothing one might use for performances or wear to the masquerade themed parties the town held every week.

Your little costal town had been unofficially deemed a safe space for pirates to come dock without having to worry about being captured for bounty or fought off by other pirates. Hence why the town threw celebrations themed around casting aside one's identity to just enjoy a night of drinking and having fun without a worry for their own safety.

You never cared to attend the celebrations, instead using the time to do trivial tasks around the shop like checking inventory or working on new masks or makeups to sell. You were doing such right now infact.

Behind the counter you sat, working on some paperwork you needed to finish, calculating what had sold best this week compared to last week.

"Welcome in!" You called out when you heard the squeaking of the shop's old door opening, but did not glance up to check whom had come in. "I'll be with you in a moment, feel free to look around and let me know if you need any assistance finding what you need."

Footsteps approached the counter followed by the creaking of someone leaning against the counter across from you. "Actually doll you can help me, I came to get my usual order of things. So where's ole Petey?"

Keeping your eyes still glued to your papers you continued to work as you replied. "That old coot's dead. Died bout 3 weeks ago after drinking himself into a damn stupor and falling into the sea. So I'm in charge of this place now unfortunately, seeing as I was his only employee."

You heard a chuckle "That damn old man. I tried to warn him something would happen but I suppose he got what he deserves after partying too hard even at his old age."

"Got that right. Sure he was a good boss but the bastard drank more than any pirate that visits town." You scoffed finishing up your work and setting it aside. Finally looking up you instantly recognized the man before you. "Now how can I help- oh it's you."

The man stood up straight, fixing his coat proudly with a grin. "I see you know of the Great and flashy Buggy. Of course you would, I mean who wouldn't?"

Placing a hand on your hip as you stood from your seat, smiling back at the Clown pirate. "The boss never seemed to shut up about you, constantly talking about how you were his best customer.... amongst other things I'd rather not repeat."

His face fell a bit at your hinting of the old owner saying less than honorable things about him.

"Don't worry, I never took his rambling of you to heart. He was always a cranky drunkard who'd complain about anything or anyone he could." You reached over and patted Buggy on the shoulder reassuringly, before motioning to the backroom with a thumb. "Thankfully that man made notes about his regulars preferences so I'll be right back. Just gonna go grab em real quick so I can get you what you need without all the hassle of you having to explain your likes and dislikes of products to me."

The tall clown gave a nod, watching you disappear into the back of the shop. Taking the opportunity to glance around at the stock around him, mentally taking note of what had changed since he'd last been here about 3 months ago.

After a few minutes you returned holding his wanted poster, reading the scrawling of notes written on the back of it. "Let's see, looks like you prefer the typical Circus clown makeup, of course long lasting and as smudge proof as possible. Though we don't carry one of these brands anymore...-" You were deep in thought now mumbling as you moved around the shop grabbing the items noted on Buggy's preference sheet.

The said Clown Pirate stood leaning on the front counter, watching you zip around like a little mouse searching for all the usual products he buys. He had to admit you looked quite cute all worked up and focused on your job like that.

"The only thing we don't have from this list is the white face paint, but have no fear my good man for you're in luck." You placed down the small basket of products before him. You gave a small 'boop' to his nose with your finger before proudly crossing your arms. "I happen to make my own white face paint, and am willing to give you my latest batch if your interested."

"Oh really? And just what do you know about clown makeup little shop keep?" He asked you smugly, with a smirk

"A lot more than you think bozo. I was a mime for ten years, hence my fashion sense idiot." You gestured to yourself and your choice of clothing.

He admittedly hadn't really paid attention to what exactly you were wearing, more distracted by your actions and words. Though now he could see you were wearing black pants, that were doing wonders to make your thighs look great, and a oversized longsleeved striped black and white shirt, with some subtle mime makeup. "Huh. I hadn't even noticed."

You stood there silent for a second, before reaching up to pat his cheek a bit mockingly. "It's a good thing your attractive, cause you sure aren't that observant are ya bud?"

The man was thrown off guard at the fact you'd just complimented him, albeit also insulting him along with it. Usually he's the one being somewhat cheeky and flirty to others with no prevail, but here you were just casually complimenting him like it was nothing.

You moved back behind the counter, pulling a container of white paint, a handheld mirror, a few brushes as well as sponges, and a damp rag. "Well here let me show you just what I actually know about clown makeup."

Before Buggy could even process what was going on, you'd already snatched his head off his shoulders, now holding it between your hands. "Hey- Just what do you think your doing?!" He spat out at you in an annoyed tone, head already trying to wiggle free from your grasp.

"Take it easy hot stuff, you're too tall for me to do your makeup if your standing. I'm simply making this easier for both of us." You took a seat in your chair, laying Buggy's head on your lap between your thighs so he was facing upwards. "If you're a good boy who stays still I may even give you treat."

"Forward aren't we? Already putting my head between your legs and I've only just met you. I mean I know I'm flashy and all but I didn't realize I was having such an affect on you babe." He teases as the both of blush a bit at the position your in.

"Oh shut up, fool. Only in your dreams would your head actually be allowed between my legs in such a sinful manner." You cut off any reply he could give by begining to gently wipe the makeup off his face with the damp rag you'd pulled out previously. You made sure not to rub too hard as you scrubbed his face clean, though the red on his nose wasn't coming off at all.

He picked up on your confusion, rolling his eyes and sighing a bit annoyed. "That's not makeup sweetheart. My nose is just naturally big and red."

You smiled sheepishly. "Heh, sorry. I knew it was your natural nose I just didn't think it was naturally red as well."

"Yea yea, crack your jokes now about it so I don't have to hear them later" His eyes were looking elsewhere as he spoke, avoiding your gaze as much as he could.

You paused, looking into his eyes till he eventually gave in, making eye contact with you. "Why would I joke about something you can't control or change about yourself?"

"Cause everyone else does so why wouldn't you as well?" He stated matter of factly, while studying your gaze, seeing a flash of hurt for him in your eyes.

"Well, I'm not everyone else." Shifting your gaze to look at his nose for a second, and smiling faintly as you spoke. "In fact I think it's cute to be honest. Seeing it up close somewhat makes me want to give you a kiss right on it."

Buggy was well and truly lost for words now, just a blushing mess that was forced to look right at you. You just let him stay like that, giggling softly at his cheeks that seemed to be almost as red as his nose, before you finally gave him some sort of mercy by applying new makeup to his warmed face. The both of you stayed silent during the whole thing, you concentrating on the paint you were applying to Buggy's face as his head laid there in your lap, him studying every inch of your face as you worked.

He had to admit he was trying to memorize every little detail of your face, from the color of your eyes, to every little twitch of your lips while you focused, the way your tongue would poke out slightly and brow furrowed when you were painting thinner lines. He was trying to savor this moment while he could, knowing there was never a moment like this before nor would he ever possibly experience anything like this again. No one was or ever would treat him with such care and attention as you were currently, this truly was a once in a lifetime thing for him and he wanted to remember it forever.

Eventually you finished, putting down the paint brushes, and lifting the clowns head up in your hands to admire your masterpiece. A smile formed on your lips as you stood, moving to reunite Buggy's head to his body again and handed him the handheld mirror.

"Pretty good huh?" You spoke as he looked at your handy work.

You did the exact same look he had on before but there was a noticeable difference between his work and yours. His makeup had looked more messy and somewhat smudged before, as if he practically lived in it, where as now the lines were crisp and colors vibrant. He looked like a clown people would smile and laugh with, no longer one people feared instantly.

"Damn sweetheart, you're even better with your hands than I thought." He teased as he handed you back the mirror, giving you a wink and click of his tongue.

You winked back at him with a smirk. "Don't give me all the credit, I mean I had quite the attractive canvas to work with."

"You seem to really enjoy flattering me." His head cocked curiously at you "Or are you just this flirty with all your customers?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, starting to clean up the counter and repackage the products you used on him. "Nah, just you Buggy. I guess you could say I have a thing for clowns."

A floating hand grabbed your chin gently, guiding your gaze back to it's owner, whom was now leaning in dangerously close to your face. "Hmm, well too bad for you. I don't have a thing for chatty mimes."

He could have sworn your gaze had flicked to his lips for a moment before you licked your own, but he'd chalk it up to his desperately lonely mind imagining things. The hand let you go, reattaching itself as Buggy stepped back, away from the counter. You took a minute to snap back to reality, then went back to packing up his order.

The pirate began to roam a little, looking at all the different costumes and masks you had displayed around the shop. Maybe he could get a few new outfits for some of the crew before they all head back out to sea in a few days. Hell maybe he'd get himself a new flashier coat too, one that would really wow the audience when he makes his grand entrance every night.

"Got everything you need packed up and ready for you. Did you want to get anything else?" Your voice pulling him from his thoughts and luring him back over to you.

"Was thinking bout a new coat, something flashy, but I'll hold off till tomorrow on that." He spoke, pulling out a few coins to pay you with.

"Oh good! So I will get to see you again." A smile formed on your lips as you took the payment and slid the box of merchandise over to him.

"Of course! I would never deny a fan from seeing my greatness up close in person." He takes a dramatic bow towards you, before placing one hand over his heart. "What kind of performer would I be if I did such a thing?"

You just laughed at his theatrics, shaking your head a bit.

He grabs the box off the counter and headed to the door, turning to bid you farewell. "You've been a wonderful audience, but it's time for me to take my grand exit unfortunately."

"Farewell Captain Buggy. I'll be waiting patiently till your next performance." You give a small round of applause for him as he leaves.

You stand there for a minute or two, replaying the whole interaction in your head, letting out a frustrated cry when you realize something. "FUCK! I NEVER TOLD HIM MY NAME!!"

"Didn't tell whom your name?" A voice says, causing you to jump.

Turning you see famed pirate Mihawk, you jump once more. "Ah! Sorry sir! I didn't hear you come in, my apologies."

"It's quite alright, I will not fault you for being so lost in thought in your own store." He stoically dismissed your concerned apology, removing his hat and placing it on the counter. "I seem to have gotten a bit careless earlier and somehow got a cut in my hat. Am I correct to assume this is the place I can get it fixed up nicely and quickly?"

Looking at the mentioned cut you assessed it was something that you could indeed repair, and quite quickly. "Yes, I do not believe this will take me that long to patch up, and I'll make it as unnoticeable as possible of course. Give me about an hour and I'll have it good as new sir."

"Very good, I shall be back then." He gave a curt nod before leaving, and as soon as he was out the door, you immediately set to work on fixing the hole in his hat.

After one hour had past exactly, Mihawk came strolling back in, gaining the attention of the few locals that had come in to browse.

"Perfect timing I finished a mere moment ago." You handed him back his hat, watching as he inspected your craftsmanship intensely.

A smirk cracked on his lips as he glanced back up at you. "Very well done, you can not even tell it is there unless you look extremely closely at it. Of course no one will ever be close enough for that, so you have my thanks." He placed a hefty amount of money in your hands before leaving.

"Whoa! That guy's intense!" One of locals muttered as they came to the counter.

"Yes he is, but thankfully I was able to do a good repair job." You replied, starting to ring up the items they'd set down.

"He seemed quite pleased with your work, maybe he'd be willing to dance with ya at the celebration tonight." Someone else chimed in, as they got in line to be rung up.

"Don't be ridiculous. That man is much too serious for my liking, I'd feel on edge the whole time." You shuttered slightly at the thought. "I never go to any of the parties in town anyways, but even if I did I'd rather spend my time around someone more akin to Buggy honestly."

A scoff could be heard, followed by a disgusted toned response. "Really that loser? He's a pretty sorry excuse for a pirate don't ya think?"

A few other insults and comments were thrown in agreement by others in the shop.

"HEY, SHUT THE FUCK UP!" You shouted, causing everyone to jump and go quiet. "If y'all want to shit talk that man then: GET.. OUT..OF..MY..SHOP!" you put emphasis on those last words, pointing your gaze to each person, whom was just talking, with each word.

A few people gulped in fear at what you might do if they say anything more.

"Captain Buggy is a highly valued customer here, so if you want to run your mouths like that about him in front of me then there will not only be hell to pay, but you will also be banned from my shop for life."

Everyone remained silent and somewhat timid of you until they left the store thankfully.

God did that get you're blood boiling, and you weren't entirely sure why. Maybe it was the fact that the clown had just been in here early and then suddenly everyone's throwing around insults about him. Or maybe it was more so the fact that Buggy had wormed into your heart quite easily during the earlier interaction you'd had with him. Whatever it was, it caused you to be uncharacteristically protective of someone other than yourself or the few people you were actually fairly close to. He was risking his life out at sea, putting on showy performances of a lifetime, while everyone in town here just partied and got drunk constantly, yet they'd all looked down upon Buggy in distain.

Shaking your head clear of your thoughts, you began to occupy your time by sketching ideas and designs for costume pieces you could make to sell. Eventually you found yourself drafting up some designs for a flashy coat you'd think a certain blue haired pirate captain might not only enjoy but also look great in.

The squeaking of the door could be heard, pulling you from your current sketching, you looked up to find Buggy back in the shop.

Your face instantly lit up with a smile upon seeing him. "Hey there handsome, I thought you wouldn't be back till tomorrow."

He smiled back at you, making his way over to lean on the counter across from you. "Well what can I say? I was craving the love of an audience... well that and I realized you never gave me that treat for being a 'good boy' like you said earlier."

"Oh and just what kind of treat would the marvelous Buggy the Clown like?" You stood up, making your way around the counter to stand in front of him, placing your hands on your hips. "Maybe something like a free pair of gloves, or a discount on one of the pricer costume pieces, or maybe even a specially made mask that will fit around your cute nose?" At the mention of his nose you gave it a small 'boop' with your finger.

He gently grabbed the hand you used to tap his nose, holding in his as he looked into your eyes. "Actually I was more so hoping for that kiss you claimed you wanted to give me. Ya know the one you you said you want to give me on my nose you seem to like so much."

"Oh-" You were caught off guard a bit, in a good way however as it caused you to blush. "I suppose I can do that, yea.."

A wide smile grew on his face as you placed your hands on his shoulders, leaning up to place a small kiss to his bulbus red nose. You'd only pulled back a few inches away from his face, looking into his eyes for a moment before a mutual pull had you both leaning back in and connecting your lips. It was a sweet kiss, that lasted for what felt like hours but was probably only a minute or two in reality, though it left you both speechless for a moment.

"Uh wow, I um- wasn't expecting that sorry." Buggy said, breaking the calm silence you'd been in.

"Heh, yea me either, but I enjoyed it so don't apologize." You slid your hands up to cup his cheeks on either side of his head. Something felt weird though when you did. "Uh not to ruin the moment but you seem to be missing an ear..."

A nervous chuckle came from him. "Heh, about that..." He stopped speaking for a moment a bit embarrassed as his missing ear seemed to zip out of your back pocket and back to his head. "I kind of left it here earlier."

"When did you put that there?" You were more shocked at how it got his ear into your pocket without you knowing, than you were mad at him for seemingly spying on you.

"I did it while you were distracted with my theatrics of leaving." He smiled sheepishly. "I heard you defending my honor so to speak and felt bad about the whole spying thing after that so I decided to come back."

"Hmm, if you say so~" You squinted at him, being jokingly skeptical of his words.

"I'm willing to make up for the spying in anyway you want." He held his hands up, seemingly in a playful surrender.

You faked thinking really hard for a moment, before smiling and giving your response. "I suppose you can give me another kiss, then I'll forgive you."

A shit-eating grin plastered itself across Buggy's face, while his hands now detached pulled you close to him by your waist. "Oh that I'd me more than happy to do."

The two of you shared in another sweet kiss, this one with a bit more passion pouring from both of you. Neither of you wanted to be the first to pull away, though eventually when your lips had parted from each other's you remained there holding each other still.

A pit started to form in your stomach, the kiss was great sure but you hardly knew him. For all you know he could have a spouse and kids somewhere, yet here you were openly flirting and kissing him without even a second thought. There'd always been a sort of loneliness in you, always craving the love of another but never being able to find it. You had small flings during the time you were a mime, ridding yourself of that lonely feeling for short periods with the fleeting intimacy of your fellow performers. Though it had grown especially harder since you had moved here, to fight off that ache, no longer having the trusted company of others, only visiting pirates that brought danger with them and the townsfolk who only ever seem to care about partying their troubles away.

Then Buggy came in and you couldn't help latching on to the hope that those rumors of him being less of a threatening force were correct. Thinking he might be easier to approach, that he wouldn't be a threat to your own safety, and you could use him easily to fill that void again for at least the night. There would be no worry about catching feelings considering he only comes for supplies every few months from what you'd heard, and he surely would or has met others who catch his eye far better than you ever could.

It was all starting to make you feel guilty the more you thought about it. "I'm sorry Buggy."

His expression flushed with confusion. "Huh? What are you apologizing for?"

"I'm sorry that I don't fear you." You moved out of his grasp slowly, gaze now shifted to the floor.

More confusion. "How is that a bad thing exactly?"

A sigh escaped from you, back now facing the puzzled pirate. "Every other pirate that comes to town leaves me feeling on edge. Sure this town might be big on reputations not mattering here but I can't help but fear for my life around the few pirates that do come in to this little shop. You must have heard the fear I felt earlier over Mihawk's visit, yet I was completely at peace when I saw you. I guess I let the gossip people say about you being less threatening or less strong as others affect how I saw you. I kind of used you somewhat for my own selfish desires today or was at least planning on to."

"What do you mean by that exactly?" You couldn't read his emotion in his voice and you dated not look back at him.

"I've always longed to experience love but I never have been able to. I use to sleep around with my fellow performers to chase off my feelings of loneliness, though I can't do that anymore since I've moved to this town. The pirates bring too much uncertainty with them and the locals are all a bunch of careless party animals, but you've been described as somewhat of a push over. In my subconscious I guess I thought I could use you like a toy to make myself feel better with out caring about your own feelings since we're both pathetic cowards." As you spoke tears began softly falling from your eyes, causing your own makeup to become a mess. "I was wrong to think that though, and I realized it after you kissed me again. You don't deserve to be treated so poorly, especially not by me. I'm sorry Buggy for thinking so little of you, when in reality you are far greater than me."

Silence. No response from the man came, only the sound of you sniffing filled the air for what seemed like forever. Though finally detached gloved hands came to rest on your shoulders, snaking their way up your neck to cup your cheeks and wipe away your tears. Handless arms wrapping themselves around your waist from behind as Buggy's head floated Infront of you, looking into your eyes.

"It's okay sweetheart, there's no need to get so worked up over lil ole me. in all honesty I can't blame you or hate you at all for wanting to use me. I mean I would have used you right back." A bit of guilt hid behind his gaze, a small comforting smile on his painted lips. "I know I'm the great Buggy the Clown, but I'm in the exact same boat as you. Searching selfishly for small cures to fix the deep desire of wanting to be loved by someone. I've honestly used so many random people along my journey, never caring how'd they feel when I'd be gone the next day, never to see any of them again. There's no telling if I'd have ended up doing the same to you or not."

Staying there you a moment, both of you processing what you'd each admitted to, you could help but feel drawn to him again. Even if it was wrong of you to do considering all you'd said just now, you couldn't help but to reach up to cup his floating head, guiding his face towards yours again before kissing him.

"I'm sorry, i-" You started, but he cut you off.

"Don't be.." He said, connecting his lips back to yours again.

The kiss quickly turned passionate, it was clear that you both need this right now and there would be no resistance from either one of you. When you'd broken apart for a moment to catch your breaths, Buggy took the chance to spin you around and put himself together again. Now that your chests were pressing together, he recaptured your lips as one hand flew over to lock the shop's door and flip the sign to closed, before coming back to join the other hand in grabbing your ass. Your own hands found their way to his shoulders, one moving to his back as the other moved to softly tug off his bandana.

Tangling your fingers into his soft blue hair, few groans escaped him when you dared to tug at it. The sound only served to light a quickly growing fire of desire in you, which lead you to tug his hair some more in order to gain another few groans from him.

"Damn you really like my hair don't you?" He teased, trailing kisses down to your neck now, finding your sweet spot quickly, nibbling and sucking on it. "Though it's not fair I'm the only one making noise here."

You moaned at the feeling of his mouth marking up your neck, grinding your hips greedily against his, growing desperate for some form of friction between you two.

"Buggy~ pl-please" You whined a bit and he took the hint, using one of his hands to pin your waist against the counter while the other began to rub over your clothed crotch. He pulled his head away from your neck to watch the faces you were making at his touch. He felt he could watch you all day honestly, the way your eyes had become full of lust and your teeth gnawed on your bottom lip, was so mesmerizing to him. His own arousal and desire blossoming as he watched you try to plead with your eyes for him to touch you more. He maybe a killer but he knew how to be nice when he wanted, and thankfully he chose to play nice tonight by giving you what you wanted.

His hand stopped rubbing against your aching clothed loin, moving to undo your pants and pull them down.

When you tried to push your underwear along with them he stopped you. "No no- not yet." He picked you up, placing you so you were sitting at the edge of the counter, as he kneeled down to place his head between his legs. He started planting little kisses and bites along your thigh leading towards your core untill he was about to plant a kiss directly where you needed his touch the most, but instead switched to the other thigh, doing it over and over again to tease you.

"Captain please quit teasing~" you begged, not knowing how much more his little game you could handle before you'd go insane.

"Alright doll, but only cause you asked so nicely." Finally he removed your last bit of clothing covering your needy sex, planting tender kisses that only served to make you crave him even more.

Gradually he began to use his tongue, licking and sucking in all the right places and in all the right ways, drawing out moans from you, that he could only describe as beautiful. All the little moans, whimpers and curses of his name were music to his ears in all honesty, and he knew once he'd gone back out to sea they would haunt his dreams every night till he saw you again.

Of you in turn would be haunted by the memories of the way his mouth felt on you right now, the way it seemed to be effortlessly drawing you closer to your climax. "Buggy~ 'm close" Your hands tangled themselves in his hair, encouraging him to continue what he was currently doing until you had cum. Thankfully he did, letting you reach your high, then lapping up the mess you'd made without any hesitation.

Once he knew you'd come back down from your orgasm, he stood up and guiding you off the counter where you sat, moving to bend you over it instead. Removing his gloves and undoing his pants, his aching member flew around to your mouth while a few of his fingers began to tease your hole.

"Do me a favor babe, suck on that for me and get it nice and slick with your spit while I make sure your stretched out enough here for me to fit."

He didn't need to tell you twice, instantly you took the floating member into your mouth sucking on it and running your tongue over the tip. You took as much as you could into your mouth and throat, using your hand to spread excess drool over what little bit of length you couldn't. As you worked bobbing your head on his cock, he began to work your hole, starting by slowly inserting two of his digits into you, sliding them in and out a bit before scissoring them carefully inside you, and when he felt you were ready enough he inserted a third digit into the equation.

After a bit when he felt you were stretched out enough, and his dick was thoroughly lubed with your spit, he removed himself from both ends of you. Joining himself back together, he lined himself up with your entrance and slowly pushed in, groans escaping from both of you as he did. His movements were slow and steady to start, letting you get fully accustomed to the feeling of each other.

"Fuck, even with all that preparation your still so tight." He groaned out into your ear, his hands squeezing your hips tightly as he started to speed up his pace a little. "You doing okay? Nothing feels uncomfortable right?"

You shook your head, trying to remember how to speak anything but his name. "No- I'm fine- feels so good Buggy"

He plants a few kisses on your shoulder before he stands himself up straight, quickening his pace more till there's an audible slapping sound of your skin slapping against each other's. Just as you both were getting lost in the pleasure and feel of the other one's body, a knock errupts from the door.

The pair of you glance towards the door, seeing Mihawk standing in the window of it. Without even slowing down his thrusting for a second, Buggy detaches his torso and floats it to the door to answer it.

"What do you need?" You hear the clown ask annoyed, probably glaring daggers at the swordsman.

"I came to talk to the shop keep. I wanted to inquire about replacing the plume of my hat." Mihawk responds unfazed by the current situation.

"Really shit head? You can see were in the middle of something obviously, you couldn't wait till tomorrow to ask?" Buggy crosses his arms, now pissed at the man for interrupting you two over something so stupid. "Get lost, and If you bother me again while I'm fucking their brains out, I will kill you and serve them your heart in a pretty little box. Got it!?" With that he slams the door and relocks it, before his torso makes its way back over to you float Infront of you.

"Mmm~ Fuck that was kinda hot, and I loved the way you threatened him babe." You look up to meet his gaze.

"I know, I felt you clench a bit when I said it." He plants a kiss on your lips. "Now, that he's got me all pissed off I'm sorry but I'm gonna take it out on you. Sorry in advance"

He reconnects his body to his hips, gripping tightly onto your waist before picking up the pace of his thrusting till it's almost painful how quickly he's plunging in and out of you. Your hips are being harshly pressed into the counter's edge by force of his pounding, your brain going numb, only capable of barely forming his name on your lips occasionally or producing various loud groans of pleasure.

Somewhere in the hectic mess of your mind trying to keep ahold of what's going on, you realize you'd cum again, which only furthered the overstimulated mess of pleasure you'd become.

"Nng- Bu-ah-gy~" It was no use, you were desperately trying to beg him to slow down a little but words were far out of your reach in your current state.

"Shhh sweetheart" His removed head came up to rest beside your own to comfort you. "Only a little longer baby, I promise. I'm gonna cum soon and then we can take a break ok? You want me to come in you, right? Want me to make you mine, don't you?"

He weakly nodded in response as he kissed you, your mouths seemingly melding into one.

Finally his hips ceased all movement, burying himself as deep as he could before releasing into you. "Good slut~ see, doesn't it feel so nice to have my cum in you?"

Finally you regained the ability to speak. "Yes~ that was so... wonderful."

"I know it was, we practically had a standing ovation with all the clapping our bodies were making." He joked, removing himself slowly from you. "Now let me help you get cleaned up after that outstanding performance."

"I'd like that. We can go up the stairs in the backroom, I live above the shop." You stood up carefully but when you wobbled a bit Buggy instantly picked you up and carried you up to your bathroom, with the help of your directions. The pair of you bathed, him of course helping you clean and dry yourself off before you both moved to lie on your bed.

"Buggy, will you stay the night with me please?" You rested your head on his chest, curling up into his side.

"Of course. I couldn't even dream of leaving your side right now." He placed a few kisses to the top of your head while one of his hands now comfortingly rubbed your back.

Blissfully you both laid there silent, basking in the soft glow of the moon rising through the night sky and shining through your window. You could both hear the faint noise of people partying in town square, laughing and shouting in drunken glee, it serving as a form of white noise to your thought filled minds.

"Hey Buggy, can I make a proposition, well I guess it's more of a request?" You shifted so you could look into his eyes, that were now seemingly glowing in the low light.

"Sure my starlight. What is it?" A thumb ran over your cheek tenderly.

"Would you be willing to be mine?" You studied his face for a second as he thought. "I know I'm being a bit foolish here but you've filled that lonely void in me more than anyone else ever had. I honestly think I've fallen for you somewhat today and I don't want to lose you. I don't care if we can't see each other for months on end, just please let me selfishly love you for at least a little while and maybe you can even love me too."

Something twinkled in his eyes as you spoke, knowing he felt the same. You'd both lived your lives searching for someone to love, or someone who could love you back and now the two of you were here entwined in bed together. You'd both filled that empty void in each other, chased off the loneliness together and somehow grown attached to the other in less than a day. Even if this was only a fluke, a mistake on your part, Buggy wasn't going to question it in the slightest. You were practically begging for him of all people to love you, of course he wasn't going to deny your love. You were the first person to love him and want to be loved by him, he'd be an idiot if he pushed you away now.

"Of course! I'd give anything to be yours honestly!" He pulled you into a deep kiss, sealing your new relationship with tender passion. When he'd pulled away, the pair of you had eyes filled with joy.

"I do have one request of my own though, besides wanting you to be mine as well."

Curious and excited you nodded for him to continue.

"Can you finally tell me your name at least?"

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Saw that you write for ST now and maybe you could hit us with a messy/sneaking around type of relationship with iv if you can

Messy

The thing was that you had always been there. Almost from the moment the bands had been formed. Always there. Offering help. Sorting through little things that needed fixing. You were familiar. Safe. Not to mention that you threw the same shit IV threw at you back at him. Even if you looked like kids bickering about the smallest of things. It eased something deep within him.

“This is messed up”, you breathed heavily, pulling back. You knew that you shouldn’t have caved in. Shouldn’t have given in to the temptation to sneak into IV’s room now that everyone has fallen asleep. “It’s you who sneaked in here”, he muttered, brushing his fingers over your puffy lips. “As if you wouldn’t have done the same if I hadn’t beaten you to it”, you rolled your eyes at him. It was his antics after all. You were the one finding him at odd hours, knocking on your door.

“I have more self-control, princess”, IV breathed right against your lips. But the minute you leaned it to kiss him once again, he pulled back. A devilish smile on his face. The bastard knew he was hot. Knew he had you in as tight of a chokehold as you had him. “Really?”, you snickered, “Well, I can go then”, you shrugged. “By all means do”, and that’s enough to make your face fall. Funny banter forgotten.

It shouldn’t surprise you by now. This had been the reality ever since he found you backstage two months ago. The adrenaline had been running high that night and IV just sprinted to you, practically smashing his lips to yours. And then the push and pull started. He might have been all shits and giggles but this guy was pretty clueless when it came to knowing when he was crossing a line.

“Fuck you”, you hissed, turning to climb off his lap. Nearly tripping over the discarded clothes on the floor. His hand wrapped around your upper arm almost immediately but you yanked it out of his grip, “No, I heard you loud and clear IV”, huffing you picked up your shirt, yanking it over your head. “Come on”, IV grunted, frustration lacing his features. A bitter chuckle slipped past your lips, “So, who’s crawling back to me now?” He tilted his head to the side, watching you for a moment, “Did you just throw the line from our song at me?” Annoyed at yourself for not thinking about it you simply flared your arms in the air, “Look at you figuring it out”.

You waited for a snarky comment. A smart comeback. He was the master of those. Never missing a beat but it never came. Instead, he reached out, pushing some of the loose strands of hair away from your face. “Don’t go”, IV muttered, “Please”. And here it went all of your frustration directed at him. “IV this is all kinds of messed up”, you shook your head, trying to put distance between you both. “I want you here”, he sighed. Letting the silence fall between you both before adding, “I just don’t know how to ask for it”.

You closed your eyes, feeling his words sink into your bloodstream. IV sneaked an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. You didn’t fight it this time. Letting your arms fall loosely over his torso. “Thank you”, he breathed against your hair, making you snort lightly, “That sounds weird, don’t thank me”, “But you stayed”. You pulled back ever so slightly, looking into his eyes.

Those same eyes that had you drowning for weeks now. “Don’t look at me like that”, you muttered, pushing his head to the side. “Like what?”, he chuckled under his breath, making you huff, “You know well like what, IV”. And you knew that he wasn’t gonna admit so you added quietly, “With those puppy dog eyes that make me do stupid shit”.

His signature smirk spread over his face once more, “I like it when you do stupid shit”. You shook your head at him, “I bet”. Taking your face between his hands he squeezed your cheeks together, making you hit his chest playfully. “But I love when we do stupid shit together more”, he shrugged and that was enough to make a smile break onto your lips as well. “Here it is”, IV beamed, “That smile I love so much”. Leaning in he captured your lips for a feather-like kiss. “You’re an idiot”, you pointed a finger at him. “For you, yes”, he winked, leaning in to kiss your finger while he was at it.

[random-thot-generator]

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 8

Frenemies/Tenderness AU

EIGHT: Lost and Found

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FRENEMY FEM READER

Summary: As Simon desperately searches for you, his darker nature emerges. Beside himself with the state he finds you in, his only thought is to get you to safety, but it's not long before his plans for vengeance take precedence. Meanwhile, you are struggling to cope with what's happened, too shaken by the night's traumatic events to comprehend what lengths Simon is willing to go to in order to keep you safe.

Warnings/Tags: Profanity, Allusions to Violence, Allusions to SA, Minor Character Death, Simon goes full-Ghost, No Detailed Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Blood, Protective Simon, Traumatized Reader, No use of Y/N

(Notes: I didn't go crazy with the violent details, but you'll definitely get the gist of what went down. Reader is obviously traumatized by what's happened, so I tried to keep that in mind while writing for her. Our girl has had a rough night, y'all.)

[image via TENOR]

Word Count: 4464

Chapter 8

-

“The shadow is dark and the woods are cold, but they are not endless. No matter how lost you are now, you are not lost forever. You are findable.

Love just keeps on looking.

Love forever tries.” ― Anna White, Mended: Thoughts on Life, Love, and Leaps of Faith

-

Simon was quietly losing his mind.

He began losing it the moment he answered your call, and the longer it took him to find you, the closer he danced to the edge. If he could just call you, hear your voice, it would ease the chokehold his anxiety had on him, but he couldn't risk it. Your phone's battery power was already low when you had called for help.

It had pained Simon to do it, but with no time to mince words, he had to tell you to hang up and sit tight, that he would be able to track you through your phone's GPS, but you had to conserve what power it had left. He didn't miss that little beat of silence after he told you that, but he'd ignored it. He could worry about explaining that later. Finding you was his only priority, now.

"Don't worry, doll. I'll find ya. Stay in place and stay hidden. I'll come to you."

That had been almost an hour ago. An hour for him to process everything you had told him, an hour to fully comprehend the danger you had been in the moment your walked out of the White Dog with Jerry Finch. The danger you were still in, because Finch was in the wind, and for all Simon knew, could be tracking you down himself right now, slipping up on you at this very moment.

Simon growled, the feral sound echoing in the high vault of the trees.

He glanced down at the receiver, watching the moving blue line that traced his path to you grow shorter. He was close, but he wasn't moving fast enough; the terrain wouldn't allow it. He couldn't curse it, though. The thick foliage that was holding up his own progress was the same foliage that had thwarted Jerry's attempt to catch you. The bastard probably never considered that he would have to chase someone through these woods when he chose this location.

That thought alone had Simon teetering on the very brink of a rage-fueled tantrum, even as it spurred him on. A shortcut to Banfield, is what Jerry had told you.

That had been a fiendish lie.

Simon had been so relieved when the tracker had first pinpointed your location, but it was the location itself that almost gave him an aneurism. The gravel lane Jerry had taken you down was no backroad into Banfield. It was a service road that cut through a protected woodland, which then terminated a few kilometers further along at a series of stream-fed ponds surrounded by marshland. It was a nature preserve for native waterfowl.

It was a bloody dead-end in the middle of nowhere with no one around.

As he followed your path through the woods, his mind conjured up all the horrifying images that could have been your fate tonight. The bright beam of his torch stuttered erratically over the foliage, his hands shaking with fury, as that one terrible question kept playing on a loop in his brain.

Just what the fuck had Finch been planning to do to you?

The answers Simon came up with only served to fuel that rage already burning like a furnace inside him. When he got his hands on Jerry fucking Finch, he would take immense pleasure in getting those answers out of him.

And Simon was a master at extracting answers from reluctant subjects. He would take his time with Finch. That sick bastard would curse the day he ever laid eyes on you before Simon was done with him.

When the tracker indicated that he had reached your location, Simon turned it off and shoved it inside the pocket of his coat, shining his light around the area. The tracks stopped here, but you were nowhere to be seen. "Doll!" he barked, eyes searching.

The sound of crackling leaves drew the beam of his torch to a large oak on his right. You crept around the tree, keeping a stabilizing hand on the trunk as you used the other to shield your eyes from the bright beam of light shining in your face. "I'm here," you replied in a wavering voice, and Simon almost completely lost it.

You looked like hell, your hair a wild tangle, clothes muddy and torn, face smudged with dirt and tracked with tears. You were covered in scratches, bruises and abrasions, your eyes huge in your face, glassy and fevered.

Without thinking, he rushed forward with a snarled, "Fuckin' hell!" and took you by the shoulders, eyes blazing with fury. He was so incensed by the state you were in that he failed to notice the utter panic that registered on your face at his aggressive approach. It was only when you let out a gasp and stumbled back that he realized how he must look and loosened his grip.

"It's alright," he muttered. "I'm jus' so..." Seeing you this way had him seeing red. "Nnngh!" he growled, his fingers tightening on your shoulders. You stiffened under his grip, wide, teary eyes directed up at him as your chin wobbled.

"Please don't be mad, Ri. 'M sorry. I just couldn't think of who else to call," you warbled out, the last word pitching up before hitching on a choked sob.

Your words caught him off guard. Bloody hell, you thought he was mad at you?

"No, doll. No. I'm not mad at ya, love. I... fuck..." He pulled you against his chest, his hand pressing your head against his pounding heart. The relief that washed over him was profound, making his hands tremble as they cupped your face. He took a step back to look you over, brushing the hair from your face as his dark eyes darted over your form. "Are ya hurt? Did he hurt ya?"

You shook your head, but you looked confused, dazed. "N-No, I don't think... I..." Your eyes drifted to the side as you struggled to find the words. "I just want to go home," you whispered as two fat tears slipped down your dirty cheeks.

Simon swiped them away with his thumbs. "It's alright, love. I got ya now. I got ya. C'mere."

He took you under the arms and picked you up as he would a child, his throat constricting when he felt you wrap your limbs around him, clinging to him like a lifeline. He said nothing, only clutched you tighter to his chest as you sobbed into his neck the entire walk back to the truck.

-

You were silent as Simon drove back to Banfield, staring out the window, hands laying limp in your lap. He kept glancing over at you, worried. You were obviously in a state of mild shock, should probably be checked over by a physician, but when he had mentioned taking you to the A and E, you'd shaken your head and muttered a low but fierce, "No!" clenching your hands into fists. "No hospital, no police."

He didn't know what to make of your vehement refusal, but didn't push, worried about upsetting you further. However, he gave you no such consideration when he bypassed the road leading to your flat. You frowned, confused. "I thought you were going to take me home."

Simon shook his head. "'S not safe, doll. That cunt could be waiting for ya, fer all I know. 'M not riskin' ya gettin' hurt again t'find out."

You hadn't even thought of Jerry lying in wait for you at your flat. The thought of it terrified you. You shrunk back into your seat, feeling helpless and unmoored. If you couldn't go home, then where the hell were you supposed to go? "But I don't have anywhere to go," you replied, your voice high and tinged with anxiety.

"Yer stayin' at my place until the threat is neutralized," was his quick response, his tone brooking no argument as he directed his truck towards his street.

You could only stare back at him, dumbfounded. Riley wasn't the type to have house guests over. He once told you he could count on one hand the number of people who had been inside his home and still have a couple of fingers left over. "Ri, you don't have to do—"

"Dee, do not fight me on this," he snapped, his gaze piercing when he shot you a warning glance. They softened as he gazed at you. "Not this," he muttered, the muscle in his jaw ticking beneath his mask. "Yer stayin' with me. End of discussion."

He looked you over, assessing you, then took out his phone. Making a call, he stuck the phone inside his hood and pressed it to his ear. You knew the moment the call connected, Ollie's distinctive voice growling an angry torrent of words you couldn't quite catch. He said something about a door and called Riley a greenie, something he did only when he was joking or angry. He didn't sound like he was in a joking mood at the moment.

"Captain," Simon barked into the phone, interrupting Ollie's tirade. "Listen t'me. We have a situation. I'll brief ya on the particulars later, but right now, I need ya to ask Fiona if she minds stayin' wif Dee at my place fer a few hours."

You shook your head, but he just shot you another warning look. "Ri, no..." you pleaded in a frantic whisper, but he ignored you.

There were a few seconds of silence and then Ollie said something in a lower register of voice that you couldn't hear. Simon's brows furrowed. "She's banged up, but she's sound," he said, casting a quick glimpse over you.

There was another pause, then another brief reply. "Yessir," he growled, then ended the call.

"What's going on? What are you doing, Ri?"

Simon put his phone in his pocket then replaced his hand on the wheel. "Don't worry 'bout it. I jus' need t'make sure yer taken care of, doll. Everythin'll be fine."

He pulled up to the curb in front of his row house and parked, telling you to wait until he came around and helped you out of the truck. Keeping a protective arm around your shoulders, his head panned back and forth as he hurried you along the walk to his front door. He shielded you from the street as he unlocked the door, keeping your back to his chest as he hustled you inside.

His entire demeanor was changed. He reminded you of a shark, his movements quick and aggressive, eyes dark, flat and predatory. He was in full soldier mode, his body tense, senses on high alert.

"Stay here while I do a quick check," he muttered lowly, creeping on silent feet through his own house. He checked the main level, then the downstairs, and then finally the upper floor. When he returned, he motioned for you to follow him into the kitchen. "Drink," he ordered, retrieving a sports drink from his fridge and setting it on the island between you.

His sharp tone grated against your already frayed nerves. "What the hell is wrong with you? You've been barking orders at me since you found me."

He whipped his head around, eyes dark and intense as he pinned you with a glare. "Until I know where the hell tha' bastard is, 'm not takin' any chances, understand? Who knows what he's capable of right now? He's got t'be off his fuckin' nut t'try what he did with ya, in the first place. He could be out there even now, tryin' to figure out a way to get inside so he can get at ya again, an' I'll be damned if I let tha' happen. You might not give a damn about yer own bloody safety, but I do! Tha's what the fuck is wrong with me!"

You flinched away from his harsh words, tears welling despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. This was all too much, too overwhelming. Throwing up your hands, you turned and hurried out of the kitchen, not knowing where you were going until you entered the guest loo under the stairs and locked yourself inside.

Turning on the tap, you glanced up at your reflection in the mirror, shocked at your own appearance. Twigs and dead leaves were caught in the tangles of your hair, your face dirty and scratched, eyes bloodshot and wild. "Bloody hell," you whispered to the mirror, raising a shaking hand to your face to examine the extent of the damage.

A knock at the door made you jump. You blew out a breath, in no mood to argue with him. "J-Just give me a minute, Ri. Please?"

You heard a thunk on the door and knew he'd dropped his forehead against it. "'M sorry, doll," he muttered lowly through the door.

Why could he only apologize through a bloody door? You took a deep breath, dropping your head, and exhaled slowly through your nose. "I know you mean well, Ri. I just..." You sniffled and huffed out a breath. "It's just a lot, ya know? And I'm— I'm struggling, okay?"

There was a pause, the shadow of his boots shifting before the crack under the door. "Ya know yer safe here, doll. I swear I won't let nothin' else happen to ya. I'll— leave ya be. Take yer time."

You sighed, unable to ignore the contrite tone in his voice. "Ri?"

"Yeah, doll?"

"Thank you. For— everything."

There was another pause. "I'll always have yer back, doll. No matter what. Understand?"

You squeezed your eyes shut. "Yeah, Ri. Me, too."

You heard his weight shift. "I jus' heard somebody pull up. Prob'ly Fi an' Ollie," he spoke through the door, then you heard his footsteps move away.

You opened your eyes and looked at yourself in the mirror again. You couldn't go out there looking like this. Grabbing the little wastebin by the sink, you began plucking the dead foliage out of your hair.

-

When you finally emerged from the loo, you could hear the low murmur of voices coming from the kitchen. Pushing through the swinging door, you stopped short as three sets of eyes turned toward you at once.

"Oh, my God," Fiona whimpered, hurrying to catch you up in a tight embrace. "I'm so sorry, Dee," she sniffled at your ear. "I never would'a thought he would do somethin' like this."

You saw Ollie grip Riley's shoulder as they exchanged a look, the tension in his body putting you on edge all over again. "What's going on?" you rasped out.

Fiona drew back and glanced over her shoulder, then back at you. "I'm goin' t'stay with ya while they try t'track down Jerry."

You shook your head, frantic. "No! Can't you just leave it alone? Don't you understand this will only turn out bad for me if you threaten him? He could go to the police, tell 'em we got in an argument, that I attacked him. It'll be my word against his, and who do you think they'll believe?" you demanded, looking between the three of them.

It was Ollie who stepped forward. "Love, I get it, I do, but somethin' has to be done. We can't just leave him be. He's too dangerous. Think about it, love. Do ya think yer the first bird he's done this to?" he asked. "We can't just let him get away with this, because he'll think he can jus' keep doin' it, and the next lass might not be so lucky."

You knew he was right, but it didn't change the fact that it was your neck on the chopping block. "If you threaten him, he'll come after me. He won't be stupid enough to try something physical again, but he'll fuck with me in other ways, get the police involved. I could be charged with assault."

Simon rounded the island and took you by the shoulders, peering down at you with an earnest expression. "Doll, listen t'me. Me an' Ol are just after intel on him right now, alright? Ol has some mates that can help us. That's all we're goin' t'be doin'. Finch won't know owt about it. If we get the right intel, we can use it against him, yeah? Stop him from doin' this again. It won't come back on ya, doll. I won't let it."

You reached up and grasped his wrists. "Promise me you won't don't anything crazy, Ri."

He sighed. "Everythin' will be fine, doll. I promise."

You stared up at him for a long moment, then cast your gaze at Ollie. "Don't let him do anything that will get him in trouble."

"No worries, love. I can keep him in line," Ollie replied, sounding confident.

You returned your gaze to the big lug in front of you and blew out a resigned breath. "Fine."

The two men exchanged another look, then Simon placed his arm around shoulders and led you back out of the kitchen, Fiona and Ollie trailing behind. "I want ya t'get some rest, alright? My room's upstairs, second door on the left. Take a shower an' have a lie down, yeah? We'll be back a'fore ya know it." He grasped the nape of your neck and bumped his forehead against yours. "We'll fix this, doll. Ya got my word." He looked over his shoulder. "Take care o' her for me, Fi."

Fiona bobbed her head, looking between the two of you. "I will, Riley."

Ollie stepped forward and patted your shoulder. "Don't fret, love. Everythin' will be fine. I'll keep an eye on him for ya," he promised, nodding at Simon.

You watched the two men ready themselves to leave, Fiona standing next to you, taking hold of your hand. Before they left, Simon came forward and took your hands.

"Don't worry, doll. I'll take care o' this. Get some rest. I'll see ya when I get back."

He then stepped back and nodded, before ushering Ollie out the door. As soon as it closed behind them, Fiona darted forward to relock it, then punched in the code for the security system.

"There," she muttered, turning to give you a forced smile. "Safe as houses," she intoned, then took your arm. "C'mon. Let's get ya in the shower."

You let her lead you up the stairs but glanced back at the front door. "You don't think Riley was lying, do you? He wouldn't just go after Jerry, would he?"

Fiona patted your arm, shaking her head. "'Course not," she lied.

-

Simon was driving, headed towards Blackheath, while Ollie was finishing up a brief conversation on his phone. "Right, then. Thanks, Seamus. I owe ya one, mate." He ended the call and nodded to Simon. "Got an address. Seamus is onboard and willing to help out, whatever we need. Think Finch is smart enough to go to ground?"

Simon grunted. "Maybe, but it's hard t'say. After what happened, he's got t'know I'm comin' for him. Or he bloody well should."

Ollie hummed as he peered out at the dark landscape. "I want t'get this bastard as bad as you do, son, but if Dee finds out..."

Simon gripped the wheel. "She won't." He glanced over at his old captain. "Ya saw what he did, Ol. Tha' cunt put his fuckin' hands on her. Hurt her. Would'a done much worse than tha' if she hadn't fought him off an' got away. If tha' were Hillary he'd done tha' to, what would ya do?"

Ollie didn't even hesitate. "I'd kill the bastard."

Simon grunted.

They rode the rest of the way to Blackheath in silence.

-

It was near dawn by the time Simon made it home. He found Fiona asleep on the couch, so left her to her sleep. His only thought at that moment was to find you, make sure you were alright. He climbed the stairs on silent feet and eased down the hallway, slipping into his bedroom.

He found you sleeping in his bed, wearing one of his old T-shirts, head buried in his pillow. It was about the best damn sight he'd ever seen. He shoulders went slack as he sighed and leaned back against the wall, taking you in for a moment.

This was how it was supposed to be. This is what you deserved. This, he realized, was what he could give you. Safety, security. A proper home. If only your pride would allow you to take it. He huffed a breath.

You and your bloody pride.

Simon could work around that, though. A plan began brewing in his head, a plan that would help to greatly relieve your financial burdens as well as ensure your safety, all at once. He just had to get you to agree to it. He considered the best approach to take with you as he gathered some clean clothes and stepped into the loo to shower.

He peeled off his dirty clothes, the coppery smell of blood wafting up from the dark clothing. He crammed them into the hamper, then tossed his ruined gloves along with his soiled balaclava into the waste bin and tied up the bag. He didn't want to risk you seeing them. You never needed to know what really happened to Finch. As far as you would know, Finch was going to be a fugitive on the lam, suspected of leaving the country.

Simon and Ollie had discovered what a truly depraved bastard Finch really was when they searched his flat. The incriminating images and videos they had found on his laptop, along with his activity on a particular dark web forum were enough to put the bastard away for years. All of that would come out, of course, once the police followed up on the information they had received from an anonymous source.

Simon paid no mind to the pink swirl of water at his feet, too busy scrubbing the rusty stains from his nail beds. He studied the bruised ridge of his knuckles, flexing the sore hand. He couldn't recall how many times he hit Finch after he confessed what his plans had been for you, but Simon did remember running a reverent touch over the bruise you had left on the bastard's cheek where you had kicked him. He had smiled at the sight and murmured, "Tha's my girl."

When he exited the bathroom a few minutes later, he saw you stir, your eyes fluttering open. You pushed yourself up on an elbow, squinting at him. "Ri? You just get home?"

He came to sit beside you on the bed. "Nah. Jus' got out o' the shower. Sorry if I woke ya. Go back t'sleep, doll."

You laid your head back on the pillow, peering up at him with a sleepy, hooded gaze. "Did you find what you were looking for? The intel?"

He nodded, taking your hand to rub his thumb over knuckles. "We did. Once we use what we've learned, he won't be a problem anymore. Ya got nothin' to worry 'bout, love."

You nodded, then sighed. "You look tired. You should lie down."

He shook his head. "'M fine. Was gettin' ready' t'do some work in my office. Jus' wanted t'check on ya first."

Your brows puckered as you regarded him. "Will you stay with me? Just til I go back to sleep?"

Simon blinked. You wanted him to stay with you? He swallowed and gave a slow nod. "Sure, doll."

You shuffled back in the bed and rested your head on the other pillow, looking up at him expectantly. Simon sighed, then turned and brought his legs up to stretch out on the bed beside you. He felt your hand creep into his, squeezing it as you sighed and closed your eyes. "G'night, Ri."

"Night, doll."

Simon laid beside you, listening to your breathing even out and deepen as your hand grew slack in his. He scooted down to rest his head on the pillow so he could see your face better in the dark room. The tension slowly seeped out of his body as he watched you sleep, his eyes tracing over the soft lines of your face. He would do anything to keep you this way, safe and at peace.

His eyes began to grow heavy. He should get up, leave you to sleep, yet when he went to pull away, your fingers curled around his hand and a frown puckered your brow again. He eased himself back into the mattress, not wanting to disturb you further. He could wait a few more minutes, then try again. He let his eyes drift shut while he waited, listening to the steady rhythm of your breathing.

A few hours later, Simon stirred awake to find you nestled into his side, his arm wrapped around your back, hand resting on your hip. You had flung your arm over his waist, your cheek smooshed against his chest, one leg thrown over his. He laid there, letting himself grow accustomed to the feeling. He hadn't slept like this with anyone in years, couldn't bear the thought of it, yet he found he liked how your soft, feminine form felt pressed against his. Your warmth permeated his body and lulled his mind like a soporific drug, tempting him to stay in bed and enjoy this brief moment of peace.

You should get up, he told himself, but then he felt your arm tighten around his waist. He couldn't help but wonder if this had been your plan when you'd asked him to lie down with you. You wanted him to get some sleep, and lo and behold, here he was. He sighed, peering down at you. You always knew how to get your way with him. Every fucking time.

He tilted his head until his masked face was pressed into the crown of your head and breathed you in. Pulling you closer, Simon closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

-

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Taglist:

@stillinracooncity @cumikering @cutiecusp @deadbranch @ghostlythots @thetiredtoad0-0 @glitterypirateduck @gothgirl6-6-6 @sofasoap @cathnoneofyourbusiness @shuttlelauncher81 @luminousbeings-crudematter @crunchlite @delilah-grimes @bobochacha

[scr11bles]

Could I please get a RED Spy x Female BLU Medic Reader frappuccino with a side of cheesecake, and some shortbread and chocolate chip cookies? Could I also place an order for something you don't seem to have in stock?

(What I’d like is for this to take place during the robot wars. Reader was trying to help everyone regardless of what team they were on originally but Spy keeps pushing her away because their relationship was very antagonistic back when RED and BLU were fighting. But something happens and Reader goes MIA forcing Spy to admit that he actually loves her. Reader comes back just in time to hear him confess. Feel free to ignore this if it's too much. 😙)

order up for @faal-verotiik ! wanna order something for yourself? here's the menu!

- frappuccino: "Can we skip the fight this time, please?" + cheesecake: enemies to lovers + shortbread cookie: angst + chocolate chip cookie: fluff

a/n: i love this request so much! also this is a perfect representation for what i thought out of stock requests to be described as, thank you so much :3

word count: 1,432

cw: little bits of angst and fluff

----------๑♡⁠๑------------

Spy wasn't known for feelings; at least sentimental ones. None of the mercs were, but you just had to be different. In the very beginning, Spy didn't give two shits about you, simply thinking of you as the Blu Medic's foolish apprentice and would merely go on to take his chance whenever he had the opportunity to backstab you. Something that did intrigue him ever so slightly was how you would react to him when and after he killed you.

You weren't like the others. You sometimes stood there and let it happen, usually not putting up a fight and just accepting your fate of being caught of guard. Even weirder? You weren't sour after it after. Sure, he would find you with a small frown on your face coming back from the respawn room, but you weren't out for his blood for the rest of the match like the rest of your Blu teammates were whenever they got backstabbed by him.

"You must be a stupid little thing, mon chaton. This business isn't for the passive."

The Frenchman had you in a sharp chokehold during a specific match, growling into your ear with his silky smooth voice as he holds his butterfly knife to your back, just above where your heart rests. Without getting a word in he thrusts his knife into your back, grimacing as your blood gets on his suit and blends in with the red of the fabric. Spy lets your lifeless body go and watches it crumple to the ground, frowning as he turns to start walking and cloaks himself. That should get you mad, a little rough teasing would make any human turn sour. He just knows it.

And his method worked, you were mad, falling for his little trap and dying to him a couple more times during that match from your rage-clouded vision. Though, it wore off quicker than he's seen in your team members, and even his own. Spy would be lying if he said he wasn't interested, and dare he say it, a little impressed at how easily you can recover from provocation. His little hatred-like infatuation lasted for long, and it still has, though its digressed now, and the fact that he's been working along side you has honestly made it worse.

The unlikely partnership of the Red and Blue team's when the machines came to attack was already on thin ice, but in all honesty, Spy didn't care all that much. Sure, it irked him that he had to ally with the same miserable bastards that he's been killing for years, but he got through it with his usual poise and class. Though, that tranquil mindset was destroyed when he kept running into you in the field during a fight, internally cursing you when you would run to his aid and heal him with your medigun and sweet words.

"You have better things to do, stop playing nurse and actually fight like the rest of us."

Spy would hiss those words at you when you even tried to get close to him to heal him, metaphorically (and sometimes literally) pushing you away from him. Even with Spy's brash behavior, you still stayed close, giving him extra care than the other mercs that you took care of on the field. Spy hated it; and after a particularly grueling fight against the machines, you rush to his side when you see he has a solid bullet wound shot through his shoulder. You bring your medigun up to fix the wound but stumble back as Spy slaps away the machinery, the sound of it clattering to the floor making you flinch.

"Chose inutile. When will you learn to get away from me? I don't need your damned help."

Even after Spy had said those words he knew that was wrong, his integrity crumbling inside of him as he registers what he had said. The Frenchman watched with sharply narrowed eyes as you retreated back a few steps, looking at him like he was a monster sent from hell. And maybe at that point to you, he was.

You walk off without a word, simply picking up your medigun and not looking back as you walk away to tend to the other members of the team. Good riddance- is what Spy wanted to say, but he'd be damned if he would admit to feeling just a little bit guilty about yelling at you and acting so rudely.

Spy's feelings only started to increasingly become worse for the next few battles due to you not even looking at him, or him not even seeing you once on the battle field. It made him angry, the way you avoided him. Sure, it was hypocritical but he missed you. Badly.

It all went to shit immediately, the waves of robots wouldn't stop coming, and everyone on the field was in a frenzy to stay alive, the Frenchman included. Spy ducked and covered behind a dilapidated wall of a building that had been blown to hell, turning his cloaking on and running out into the field to get a vantage point on the enemy. When he got to a high enough spot, Spy overlooked the battlefield, gauging where each of his teammates were and where the numerous numbers of enemies were coming from.

From the vantage spot, Spy saw you- for the first time in days, he saw you. Spy couldn't believe the way his heart skipped a beat, making him take a double take and look back at you, watching with bated breath as you fought off a machine variant of yourself to get to the Red Heavy as he was being onslaught with gunfire. Spy could only watch in a state of shock as a bullet ripped through your shoulder, your blood painting the ground of the battlefield. Without even realizing it, Spy started to make his way back down from his high ground to run and help you, but when he gets back to the ground all he sees is a trail of blood leading around the corner.

Spy follows the trail, a large explosion racking the nearby building and causing large pieces of scrap metal and concrete to fly through the air. As Spy turns the corner all he's faced with is rubble, your medigun broken and dented on the floor next to the smoldering rubble.

The trail of blood ran under the rubble.. Your trail of blood. That means-

"Merde! No- No!"

Spy sprints to the rubble, sliding to his knees and starting to haphazardly dig into the rubble, shifting away a large piece with all of his strength. After shifting a large piece Spy's breath hitches in his throat as he sees a piece of ruined fabric sticking up from under the cement and ash. Spy grabs the fabric, tugging it up at feeling a sour taste fill his mouth. It's your coat, your class insignia sewn into the sleeve reddened with blood.

"No- Mon chaton! S'il te plaît! Please!

Spy grips the fabric and tugs it close to his chest, cursing to himself as he feels tears prick the corners of his eyes. How pathetic, crying over the girl he hated and pushed away.

"Je suis désolé. Je suis vraiment désolé. I-I-"

Spy chokes on his words, letting his tears drip onto the tattered scraps of your coat.

"Spy..?"

The Frenchman freezes, furrowing his eyebrows and whipping around to follow the sound of.. Your voice? There you were, without your coat, leaving you with just your undershirt and a crude bandaged wrapped around your shoulder.

"Spy what're you- Wait are you cryi-"

Your sentence doesn't even get past your lips as your wrapped into a tight hug by Spy, the Frenchman squeezing you for all you're worth. Spy pulls back from the brisk hug, keeping his hands resting on your waist as he looks down at you.

"Mon ange, I'm so sorry. What I said- it wasn't right."

Spy's grip on your waist tightens, almost afraid of you disappearing in front of him despite his hold. You thrash against his grip when you come to your senses, frowning and taking a step back from him while giving him the sharpest glare possible,

"Let's skip the fight this time, s'il te plaît."

Spy gives you the sorriest look he can muster, and damn if you couldn't resist when he gives you a look like that. With a sigh you walk back towards the man, slowly bringing your hand up and placing it on Spy's chest, his racing heartbeat thumping against your palm. You smile up at Spy, the sight after so long of not seeing it making his heart feel as if it was going to explode.

"You'll forgive me, won't you?"

Spy brings his hand up to cup your cheek, his gloved thumb brushing against you bottom lip before he pulls you in for a sweet kiss, the connection of your lips akin to electricity. How could you say no when he says it so sweetly?

----------๑♡⁠๑------------

uhh here it is i hope you like it!! i struggled so hard with this request but i think its okay in the end (plus it was good practice)!!

[violetmina]

Chokehold - Ch. 10

Chokehold Masterlist

Accepting taglist requests!

Taglist: @roundroald @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @sexytholland @scraftsku35 @avastrasposts @missihart23 @ladyvillainous @elementress44 @haibara-ai-tsii @123passwort @sanscas @lulzbrokenbyfantasy @icantevenchoose @marksassybanana @a-rogue-tiddy-bot​ @itsyellow​ @lmarina2000​ @d3adite666 @casualfansoul @missrandomheart @cvstle ​

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,067

Warning: Swearing, adult themes, mentions of bodily harm, blood, and good ol’ Butcher himself.

A/N: Honestly, this chapter is basically a whole lot of whump and comfort. And despite my best efforts, Butcher might be a bit OOC for it. Nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy.

"Jesus, Butcher!"

With a flurry of fingers you snatch your phone from the floor before you can step on it, discarding it on the counter to approach the bloody man. You turn on the faucet after seizing a washcloth from one of the drawers, your stomach clenching at the sight of so much red swirling down the drain. It's then you finally notice your first aid kit on the other side of the sink, already half gutted by your unexpected visitor.

He's awake and something akin to alert. But you can tell that Butcher isn't processing on all cylinders. It's not until you wring out the cloth and turn to him that he catches your intent. He bats at your hand when you reach to wipe at the left side of his face. "Nah, nah. Stop. Stop! I don' need fuckin' motherin'!"

"No, but you could use a hand," you quip with strained patience.

"I told ya, I got it!"

Both of you swear when he reaches for the first aid and his bloody hand slips on the edge of the basin, nearly sending him into the mirror. You grab his belt and begin to gently tug him back towards the toilet. "C'mon, Billy. Sit down, just for a min-"

"Fuck off! I can-!"

"Sit!"

He glares at you through his seeping war paint. He grunts when you give a good yank on his belt, causing him to totter before he begrudgingly slumps onto the toilet lid. The glare grows into a full-on man pout, and in any other circumstance you might have laughed. Instead, you nudge one of his boots to the side with your foot and stand between his knees. You begin cleaning at his temple, making quick but gentle work of trying to  find the source of blood.

"I'd have done it me self just fine," he grumbles when you clear around his eye. "Wasn't expecting you home this early anyway."

"Early? Butcher it's late. It's been nearly twenty-four hours since you left the office."

The pout gives way to confusion. "Has it really?," he asks, more to himself than you. He smears blood from the face of his watch and squints at the time. "Christ. S'pose you're right."

"What happened, Billy? How'd you end up in my bathroom like this?"

"Well I let myself in."

The groggy smirk he gives you is a double-edged sword. You're not certain if it's an indication that he's fairly ok, or if he's using humor to deflect. You take a slow, deep breath before replying, "I can see that. What happened after you left the hospital last night?"

"What'd MM tell ya?"

"He told me about the girl. No one has seen you since then. I'm asking you."

The biting edge of worry begins to gnaw at your guts as you rinse the cloth and try to clean his cheeks, what you can dab out of his beard. What if his head injury is worse than you thought? How impaired might his memory be?

A look of concentration flits in his eyes before he finally speaks. "Tracked down the club she told us about. Paid their security a little visit. Was waiting to be led back to their surveillance room when I got ambushed."

"By whom? Vought?"

"Not Vought," he winces when you swipe into his hairline. "Couldn't've gotten there ahead of me like that. I think Walsh used Vought's squawker to stay ahead of the company lackeys when they went snooping. But now he's gonna know somebody else is digging up his side hustle. Bastards he hired looked like third party thugs."

You rinse the cloth again and begin gingerly sweeping through his hair, his wince your first clue of where his wound may be. Your free hand works at parting the thick, sodden strands. "You mean he's hired people not part of Vought, to cover his tracks, right?"

"Believe so. They didn't act like the usual company muppets. Fuckin' hell, love!" He hisses before sending you an annoyed glance. "Don't mind a hair-pulling kink but you're fucking scalping me here!"

"I'm sorry. You're clotting so bad it's matting. I need you to move to sit on the edge of the tub."

"What? Why?"

"Please don't make this any harder," you sigh, gripping his belt again to help him shuffle over to the lip of the bath. Once he's seated and balanced to your liking, you unhook the shower head and start a slow warm flow. "I have to get some of the blood out of your hair. I can't see your scalp."

"Should probably clean this one first," Butcher grits as he starts fiddling with his shirt.

You turn from the water with a frown. "Clean what one f-? Oh my god!"

A knot of nausea squeezes your belly at the sight that appears when he slips off the left side of his shirt. The rivers of blood trace from his fingertips up to just under the end of his clavicle. There in front of the socket is a lumpy, pocket-like wound just under the skin from which the blood oozes, a long gouge trailing back from it towards his sternum like a thin, shallow comet tail. As his fingers begin to prod about the lump you realize that it is a pocket, and in it-.

"You didn't tell me you were shot!" You drop the shower head and reach for some of the clean gauze still left in the first aid kit. When you turn back, it's just in time to watch him squeeze the pocket with gritted teeth and watch the bullet slip out. He fumbles with a pant of relief as it drops into his slick palm. Before you can even process, he gives it a feeble toss over your shoulder. It clatters in the sink.

"Least it wasn't a hollow point," he mumbles. "Woulda been real messy."

"No. Nuh-uh," you stammer finally. "I'm taking you-."

"Nowhere." Butcher manages a steely look in your direction. "Can't go to the hospital. They'll be looking for me."

"Ok. Maybe if I call MM then-"

"Not doing that either. We split at the ER for a reason." Then almost under his breath, "Shouldn't have even come here."

You dart forward, cursing as you press the gauze against the wound firmly. He manages to sneak his right hand under yours to take over. "Calm down, it was more of a graze. Superficial. Hardly needs packing."

"Calm down? Any deeper and this-!" You cut off at the realization; if it had entered a mere inch or so further back it likely would have torn through the top of his lungs, his lower windpipe. Not wanting to dwell on it, you glare at his reckless face before ripping through your kit for packing, a sterile q-tip and an ampoule of sterile water. You pry his fingers and gauze back long enough to clean around the shallow pocket, trying to rinse without saturating. Then follow suit on the graze. "Don't know how the hell you got so lucky," you spit as you place the miniscule amount of packing needed into the bullet hole once the bleeding had been staunched. "Didn't even know this was possible."

"Nah. Seen weirder in my bootneck days," he says with a lopsided shrug, holding the left side still as you apply a dry dressing.

"I don't wanna know." Again, you rinse the cloth, which now is tinted a stubborn pink and set to cleaning off his arm. When he tries to take it from you, you snatch it back. "You're going to let me finish. Now what did you mean? Why did you come here?"

"I shoulda gone to my place," he admits quietly, eyeing the cloth in a way that tells you he is not going to fully cooperate. "Just couldn't quite get there on foot."

His skin finally loses its sanguinous sheen and you abandon the cloth in the sink for a fresh clean one. Setting it aside on the edge, you reach back down into the tub and retrieve the shower head. He attempts to slip it from your fingers but you manage to evade. "I'm almost done, Billy. How about you chill for five minutes of your life?"

"I think I can manage washing myself," he snaps.

"Didn't say you couldn't. You need to mind your shoulder though." You maneuver back between his knees. "If it doesn't make you too dizzy, you need to tilt your head back. Let's see if I can keep from soaking your new dressing. I can't speak for your shirt."

"Oh God forbid you get me bloodstained shirt a little wet." Butcher slips the right side off with a shrug and dangles the shirt between you with his good arm and a bit of exasperation. He tosses it onto the floor, next to his jacket in the corner you realize, before trying yet again to snatch the shower head. He nearly falls off the edge of the tub in the process and you bite back an expletive when you help right him again with your free hand on the back of his neck.

"Please, Billy." It comes out soft, almost tired.

He scowls at you for a moment. You almost wonder if he had heard your plea over the water. Then finally he grips the edge of the tub and slowly tilts his head back. 

You dive in before he can change his mind, moving your hand from his neck to his hairline to block water from running into his face. In mere seconds your bath resembles your sink, bloody water dripping in little streams from the back of his skull. There had been many times over the past couple months your fingers had itched with want to run through Butcher's unruly locks. But you never pictured it being like this, easing and crumbling clots from his hair, fingertips only ghosting the roots for fear of pulling at the injured scalp beneath.

Briefly there had been a moment where you thought he might be coming around. But you still catch glimpses of it in his eyes, the brain fog that rolls in and out like a tide. When he begins to lean too far back and blindly reaches out to catch at your waist instead of the tub, you don't comment. But your worry grows in the sound of the running water, then doubles in size at a sudden thought.

"Please tell me I'm not about to find a bullet here, too."

The corner of his mouth curls and the brain fog ebbs out of his eyes. Mischief replaces it. "Don't be daft. I'm not a zombie out for your brains. Those twats were piss-poor shots anyway."

"Your spanking new dressings say otherwise," you deadpan. A second after and you finally find it. A long jagged gash arcing just behind his left temple and back, stopping a couple inches before his ear. You lower the shower head into the tub again to inspect further. "Definitely not a bullet wound. What made this?"

"Dunno," Butcher replies. "One threw something, didn't see what. Clocked me right as I rounded a corner."

"Threw it at you?"

"Pretty sure his gun jammed just before. Fucking amateur," he says smugly.

You shake your head. "Whatever it was, it got you good. Luckily it's not too deep. Just made you bleed like a stuffed pig. And I suspect a slight concussion. Those steri-strip things would be best but I don't think they'll stay with all your hair. I should have some liquid bandage stuff in the kit though."

You pick up the clean cloth and start dabbing at the broken skin, trying to be gentle. Once it's a bit more dry, you slip back just far enough to turn and dip into your kit. After a bit of rummaging you find the little tube you're looking for. With the faintest tapping on the back of his skull, you signal for him to ease his head to forward. You start applying the gel on the wound, working from the back towards his temple.

If he notices the sting that usually comes with liquid stitches, he says nothing. As a matter of fact, he's rather quiet as the minutes pass. Enough to unsettle you again as you reach the end of the gash. Satisfied with your work, you discard the tube with a toss back into the kit before carefully dipping both hands into his hair. When he arches a brow at you, you reply, "Just checking for any other wounds. And making sure the rest of your skull is still intact."

Still he says nothing and allows you to examine him further. He's already got a hell of a knot forming around the gash. But as you tread your fingertips along his scalp, you find no further injury. When your fingers reach far enough to touch, lacing round the back of his head, he makes a small hum in his throat. You glance at his face, finding his eyes flitting just a bit, more foggy than before.

When you snap your hands back to hold his face, he comes straight back to alert. "Wha-?"

"Look straight ahead. Need to see your eyes."

He stares back at you, brow arching again. "The hell you doing now?," he asks dryly.

"I'm checking for nystagmus."

"Plain English, Nurse Ratched."

"Involuntary eye movements. Like when you look at something but your eyes keep ticking away then right back. Thought I saw it a second ago."

He surprises you with a chuckle, and it manages to smooth out some of your concern. "I think I'll live if I have a lazy eye for a minute, darlin'."

"Not a lazy eye. Nystagmus often happens if there's neurological issues. Surgical sedation can cause it. Or, you know, someone or something trying to bust your head open like a damn pinata. If you have it, I'm calling MM."

His hands on your waist tighten slightly. "No, you're fucking not. I'm fine."

"Shut up and keep your eyes open, William."

Both brows shoot to his hairline for a moment. But they settle and you continue looking into his pupils, waiting for any rhythmic twitching, or any indication of stroke. Long seconds pass and you sigh with relief. No sign of nystagmus. He's got issues for days but at least for tonight it's not brain damage.

"That was a first."

You blink at him, noticing his pupils dilate slightly. "What's a first?"

"You called me William." A smirk starts to form on his face, and your eyes linger a little too long on his lips. "Wasn't that serious, was it?"

"Oh." Caught off guard, you suddenly realize your position. Up close with a shirtless and damp Butcher, cradling his face. You go to drop your hands to his shoulders but remember the bullet wound, and they stutter to an awkward stop on his neck instead. "I was…"

Butcher cuts off your train of thought when he pulls on your hips and leans forward, bringing your foreheads together. "Relax, love," he breathes, still smirking as he flips the roles on you - now he's studying your eyes. "M'alright. Been in way worse shape than this."

"Billy…"

"That's better."

And his lips press against yours without hesitation. It's short, perhaps teasing. But there's that underlying note of tenderness again, and it pulls a smile and a small sound of contentment out of you. Prior doubt slithering away like the water down the drain.

His response to your smile is quick, eyes flashing before his mouth captures yours again, but much firmer. Warm, borderlining hot. When you sigh one of his hands slides up from your waist to cradle the back of your neck. Butcher's mouth moves slow but unyielding against yours, wiping your mind clean of any thought and leaving only awareness of this. A tug on your bottom lip between his teeth morphs your next sigh into a tiny gasp. But it's all he needs to dip his tongue just within, testing, just tasting.

His hand on your hip glides to the small of your back, pulling you till you're almost flushed with him. You give no resistance.

It's not until your shins hit the tub that you realize too late you probably should have. The next second you're both fumbling to catch your fall with a yell. Butcher manages to get one hand on the lip of the tub, and you wrap one arm around his shoulders. Your other hand shoots out to slam against the wall, stopping your awkward, tangled crash. But not before Butcher's head thuds against the faucet.

"Aw fuck me!"

"Shit! Hold on!"

It's a mess, but with a bit more cursing you both strain to an upright position again. Butcher's eyes screw shut with a hiss as he holds the edge with a death grip. "Well if I wasn't concussed before I sure as shit am now!"

Before you can reply a knock sounds from your front door. "Shit! I forgot about the pizza! Don't move, okay? I'll be right back."

"Hold on a tic-"

"Don't. Fucking. Move!," you hiss before darting out the bathroom. 

You scramble about till you find a little cash, just enough for a tip. Despite your best efforts, you still managed to get a little blood on the hem of your shirt, tiny specks of it drying on your palms from cleaning up the reckless mess in your bathroom. If the delivery guy notices when you answer the door, he says nothing. Just gives you a bored look and equally flat "have a nice night" as you exchange him for the food, then leaves.

You secure the door and move quickly into the kitchen to drop the pizza on the counter. You snatch a glass and fill it with water then turn back to head to the bathroom for tylenol. Instead you find Butcher filling your bedroom doorway, rubbing the back of his head.

"Damn it! I said don't move!"

"I heard ya. And I'm starving. Gotta do something for this bloody headache." He shuffles to the counter as you slink past him.

"Hold on, just getting you some medicine right now. Give me a sec and I'll see if I can find you some food," you call back.

"It's right here, innit?"

You pop two pills into your palm, then remember you have yet to finish the graze on his chest. Washing your hands and grabbing a packet of ointment, you head back to the kitchen. "Yes, but that's probably one of the worst things for a con-" You let out a sigh at the sight of Butcher already happily halfway through his first slice. "Nevermind. Here."

"Much obliged." He takes the tylenol greedily between bites and washes it down with the whole glass and a wince. Once he takes the last bite of food you rip open the packet and approach him. He shakes his head when you raise a hand towards the graze. "Now hold on-"

"Your hands aren't clean. So hush." When he rolls his eyes you pause in applying to give him a pointed look. "Not going to let you undo all my hard work by getting an infection via pizza grease."

You make quick work of it, focusing on applying just the right amount of ointment to hold off the thoughts of his mouth on yours moments before, or the fact he's standing in your apartment still shirtless. It's hard to ignore, though, what with the planes of his long torso before you, and his broad chest under your hands. But you manage. 

With a nod, you step back. "There. Done. I'm going to grab your shirt, maybe I can still save it with a wash."

"Don't bother, love," he replies, seizing another slice from the box. "A wash ain't gonna fix the bullet hole."

Oh no. You're not doing this to me.

"Fair enough. Umm. I might have something then? Give me a minute." 

You turn back to your bedroom again, making a beeline for your closet. For several minutes you rife through your clothes and your thoughts. You have no complaints of the kissing, aside from the embarrassing tumble. But you do feel a twinge of guilt. He's not completely well, and you certainly don't want to make things worse. You finally find an old, oversized t-shirt. A dark blue, ragged unisex thing you had kept for housework and "just in case" situations like this, it's hem riddled with holes. It may just fit him.

When you return you find him on your couch, eyes closed, right arm draped lazily across the back.You can't help looking him over. You're not sure what you had expected under those tacky shirts all this time but it wasn't this. He's not chiseled, which you're actually glad for, pleased by the hint of lean muscle under his skin. He's built for useful strength, not showboating. The urge to map his large ribcage and where he's soft or firm with your hands makes your fingers twitch. And the lines of hips you'd only peeked before are now on full display, framing a thin dark trail under his navel, and sloping sharp into his jeans. You'd heard a couple different names for hips like his, Apollo's belt being one. The other was Aphrodite's saddle.

Fuck Aphrodite! That one is mine!

The man has been shot! Can we fucking NOT?!, you snap at the little voice. 

You call his name softly and he opens his eyes. A good sign, all things considered. You toss him the shirt before stepping back to get some pizza yourself. "Full already?"

"Nah, just pausing before thirds," Butcher quips as he stiffly tugs on the shirt. Thankfully it's not too snug.

You give him a look when you sit down beside him with your plate. "You got nauseous, didn't you?" He shrugs dismissively but you know better. Not a good sign. After a hesitant bite you decide to switch back to the other pressing matter. "So this lead at the club is a deadend then?"

"Fraid so," he nods solemnly. "Even if one of the others goes back for it, that footage is good as gone now. There'll be another person like that girl, you can count on it. Just have to wait."

"She got lucky," you frown between bites. "We don't know how many others there have been that weren't."

"We can't do anything bout that. We'd be chasing our tails if we tried digging that hard, and Neuman will wonder why our other cases have slowed down all the sudden. Too risky."

You finish your first slice and sigh. Now your appetite is compromised. "So now what?"

Butcher's all too familiar smirk returns. "We do our day jobs as usual, and prep for that gala like we planned. But right now?" He shifts in his seat, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you into him. He hooks one of your thighs despite your protest and manages to pull you into his lap to face him. "I recall telling you last night that we ain't done."

"Seriously?" You scoff with a wry smile. "Even now?"

"Well no better time than the present, now is there?," he grins. When he leans up to kiss you, you press your fingers against his lips and the other hand on his good shoulder, and push him back. He gives an indignant look.

"As a matter of fact, there is a better time than the present." When he frowns you shake your head and continue. "Billy, you have a goddamn bullet hole under your collarbone. And you're concussed. Almost twice. You need rest, and the less stimulation the better. Not TV, not music, and definitely not getting to know you carnally."

"Stimulation sounds much more fun," he grumbles, still teasing.

"I'm not kicking you out. You can stay. As a matter of fact, I insist."

"Well I'm glad the lady insists."

"But," you press, darting around his flirtatious tone, "It's late. I'm tired. And more importantly, you are tired. Don't lie, I can see it."

"What? Don't fancy me bedroom eyes?"

"You need to heal, Billy," you intone, low but emphatic. "And that requires a quiet place and restful sleep."

He gives a bit of a pout, looking you over as his thumbs rub circles on your thighs. "No pizza, no TV, no sex. Fucking hell, you really are Nurse Ratched."

"You should be supervised for at least forty-eight hours. But you and I both know damn well you're not going to let that happen. Just let me keep an eye on you tonight and I'll quit being your nurse by morning. Okay?"

"No dice. You best have a better deal than that."

"Butcher-"

"How about…I pick some boring drivel on the telly, keep it real low…" His palms smooth warmly over your thighs. "...And you keep more on me than an eye, eh?"

"I keep both eyes on you then," you counter. "And I pick what's on the TV. Final offer. Otherwise, I'll cut the TV cord, kick you to bed and nap here on this couch-"

"You're not kicking yourself outta your own damn bed," he says with a bristling glare. The flirtatious tone returns after a beat. "And I ain't going near it unless you're in it."

"Well look at that, you being a gentleman," you tease. "So? Final offer?"

He stares at you, summing up the options. He's not pleased, obviously. But you can see the fatigue in his face, and you're determined that he makes it through the night without complications. His eyes narrow.

"...What you thinkin' of picking?"

"Something mild, kinda monotonous," you shrug. "Maybe one of those David Attenborough nature docs."

"Oh come off it!," he groans. "Bloody concussion won't kill me but you will bore me to death! I might as well just go to Bo-peep!"

"That's the point," you faux whisper.

He lets out a heavy sigh, minutely shaking his head. "Fuck me…Where's your remote?"

"Thank you," you beam before hopping off his lap. You snatch the remote before he gets any ideas, and set everything up, volume down to just audible. You grab one more slice of pizza from the kitchen, putting the rest away in the fridge, then turning off the lights. You set up an alarm on your phone for the end of the show, then a couple more about two hours apart to check on him through the night. The last would be your usual morning wakeup call.

You pad back to the couch where Butcher promptly pulls you down to tuck into his side. He throws an annoyed look at your triumphant expression, before finally easing back into the cushions, his eyes already heavy. You make quick work of your second slice as you feel his breath start to become rhythmic, ready to begin your watch…

It's not till the sound of the first alarm goes off that you realize you, too, had been lulled to sleep. You jolt, scrambling for your phone to quickly silence the alarm. You're disoriented to find that you're still tucked into Butcher but not as before. At some point you must have dozed a little heavier than him, allowing him to shift you both onto his good side. His left arm is draped over your hips, and when you reach for the remote to turn off the TV, it wraps a little closer.

"Billy?," you call softly over your shoulder. He stirs, giving a small grunt in response. Groggy but responsive, so far so good. You start to shift to get up. "I'm going to get you a blanket."

"No," he grunts into your shoulder. His arm pulls you back flush with him. You feel him wince at irritating his wound with the movement, then mumbles, "Don't need it."

Within moments his breathing becomes warm and steady on the back of your neck again, and his grip slowly softens as he slips back into sleep. You consider trying to sneak out. But honestly…this is more than you could've asked for. If anyone had told you not too long ago that you'd be cuddled by big, bad Billy Butcher, you would have told them to get their head checked. After all these chaotic, frustrating, dirty months this is the nicest thing you've experienced since joining the Boys. Then immediately after realize that this must be an even more rare moment of peace and comfort for him.

Smiling, you check to make sure the alarms are still ready on your phone, then set it aside on the coffee table. You let your eyes drift shut, determined not to take this for granted, soaking in the warmth, the silence…

^^^

Your eyes snap open, the room still dark. You sigh, waiting to hear your alarm. It doesn't sound. It's silent and you glance about, confused, why are you awake? It takes only a moment, the tingle of hairs standing on end, and you find your answer. The feeling is back. The feeling of something wrong.

You slowly raise on one arm, peering around. Only then do you notice something missing, warmth and weight. You turn your head and find Butcher sitting upright on the couch, your legs in his lap. You realize he must feel it, too. His face is turned from you, looking towards the windows. 

"Billy?"

He turns his head at your whisper, his face a mix of brooding and alertness, all muddled with fatigue. The second you recognize it, the moment you realize it's the feeling of being watched again, it dissipates. His brow furrows.

"Billy, wh-?"

"Nothin'," he mumbles with a faint shake of his head. "Go back to sleep." He slides lazily back up the couch to reclaim his spot. You're on the verge of asking again but he hooks a finger under your chin. "Hey, what'd I say? I'm fine. It's nothin'."

He pulls you back in again, the solid weight of him behind you and the briefest press of lips upon the back of your neck both bring the tide of sleep over you, slowly but surely. You silence the alarm just before you close your eyes. When the next one wakes you, he's the one to shut it off. 

You can't help but notice that his grip softens less in his sleep this time.

[lethalchiralium]

Hello! I hope you are well and having a fantastic day!

Can you, if you're alright with it, make this a oneshot separately for Ghost, Soap, and König and how they would comfort their S/O in this scenario.

May this be an x Fem!Reader where the reason that Y/N joined the military was to get away from her abusive family, and when she first joins the force, she's very quiet and sticks to herself, obviously being shy around either one of the boys. Eventually, they both start talking, and once she gets comfortable around him, she turns into an extrovert and tells him many things with him lovingly listening to her.

Maybe she could also tell him about how, with her family, she couldn't tell them anything because she was either told not to talk or they wouldn't listen, in other words, shut her out. Making her feel like she couldn't talk to anyone.

(You don't have to write it if you don't want to.)

You’ll Understand One Day | John “Soap” MacTavish x F!Reader

a/n: i used artemis for this because she can be seen as you! i’m also sorry this took so long i got distracted (AGAIN)

warnings: vague mentions of neglect, abuse. cussing, soap being soap and having a crush

summary: Soap has a special interest in Laswell’s protégé, Artemis.

Soap would have never ever believed that she was this talkative when he first met her. He was never a man to go out and catch feelings, it was more like those feelings immediately grabbed him and put him in a chokehold - that’s exactly what happened because of her.

Laswell’s protégé, Artemis, was a force to be reckoned with. She had been lent to the 141 for extensive tactical training by Laswell, and when she stepped off the plane, Soap internally swooned - though he swore to himself never to tell her. He had walked up, shaken her hand and talked her ear off about the whole base.

It was very early on that all of the 141 noticed that she almost never spoke, only ever responded to orders and comms. If anyone tried to approach her, she’d back away like a scared dog. That put Soap off - what if she had a mission go wrong and she’s scared of attachment? What if her last team didn’t treat her well, that’s why she’s scared of him?

Tried to bump into her at the water fountain, she ducked away as soon as she noticed him. He even sent Gaz to talk to her for God’s sake, she scurried away like a mouse. The only person she didn’t run away from was Price, which was odd to Soap - almost everyone was scared of Price. His poor little heart thought she had heart eyes for Price, but oh, he was dead wrong.

He asked his Captain about the relationship, Price rolled his eyes and said that Artemis wasn’t used to being with a team that was like a family. She didn’t want Price to think she wasn’t capable of doing her job, so she was like his shadow.

Soap internally swiped the sweat off his brow, but he was still confused. Family problems? Artemis? No! She was too nice for that, too skittish, too good for that. He didn’t want to think about it, he didn’t want to believe it was real. So he made a point to get her to talk to him, no matter what it took.

He walked up to her at the water fountain and loudly asked her a question. “So, Arty, you know why the strawberry was cryin’?”

She looked bewildered, eyes widened and back straightened as if to make her look bigger, but it didn’t put Soap off.

“…No.”

“‘Cause he was in a jam!”

Her eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed. “Funny.”

“You like jokes then?” He smiled. “Price gets all his jokes off me, the bastard.”

She just stared at him.

He stared right back, his smile reached his eyes. “I hope you’re not stealin’ jokes from Price, you can just get’m from me!”

She nodded and walked away.

It took her only a couple more weeks for her to not move away from the fountain when he approached her, she was no longer like a scared deer at the shore of a lake - she only stared at him as he filled up his water bottle.

“Ya know why the coffee filed a police report?” He screwed the cap back on, his smile still huge. It’s like he couldn’t make it go away when she was around.

“No.”

“‘Cause it got mugged!” He chuckled, his smile got impossibly bigger.

There was a crack of a grin on her face as she spoke, “What’s the most terrifying word in nuclear physics?”

His eyebrows furrowed, raking his brain for an answer while still being shocked that she was talking to him. “Uh, dunnoe.”

“Oops.”

Soap let out a bark of laughter, almost dropping his water bottle. “S’good one, Arty!”

The smirk on her lips lit up his heart again, the infatuation only getting worse.

After that day, he’d seemed to find her everywhere. He used to spend hours looking for her, just to check on her, but never find her. It’s like she is making sure he sees her whenever she’s near - he smiles about it. He’s always smiling.

She approached him more, telling him jokes more often; that evolved into asking him questions about his life, his hobbies, his favorite gun to use. Soap was happy to oblige, babbling on and on about his large family and the trouble he used to get in as a ‘wee lad’. And at a certain point, something changed - she began to answer his questions. Soap was getting confused more often at what had opened, what had changed in her pretty little head for her to talk to him with more than the same ten words she had for months before.

It was a Saturday night in his Glasgow apartment when there was a knock at his door. The Glasgow Celtics game was on, he was pissed off that they were losing and texting his mom about it. She was sure to be watching, so he knew it wasn’t her at his door. His sister lived in Edinburgh, and was known for announcing her presence by calling him six different times on her way to Glasgow - it wasn’t her either. And it definitely wasn’t any of his team, he knew how almost everyone knocked.

He hopped over his couch, almost slipping on the hardwood because of his Celtics socks that he wore every game he watched. He was grumbling to himself, upset about the game, that it was almost over and that they were losing. He ran a hand through his mohawk, quick to grab his front door handle and pull it open, “This better be good-“

He shut his mouth, eyes wide as Artemis stood in front of him - soaked to the bone, eyes red and her dufflebag on her shoulder. He opened his mouth again, then shut it quickly. For a blabber mouth, as Price says, he did not have one word to say as she clenched the handle of her duffle.

“I didn’t mean to bother you.” Were her first words, nervously teetering on her feet as she then sniffled. “I just- Ah, fuck,” One hand went up to her eyes, rubbing at them before continuing, “Can-Can I crash here?”

Soap was bewildered, to say the least. The girl he was pining over was at his door step, soaked and in tears, and he felt anger rise in his chest. Who would force her to walk in the rain? Who made her cry? Come to think of it, he never even asked if she had a boyfriend. Eejit, eejit, eejit! He was mentally kicking his own ass as he swallowed thickly, answering, “Y-Yeah, c’mon.”

He looked ridiculous, he remarked to himself, wearing a ratty 141 t-shirt with MACTAVISH on it and a pair of bleach stained Celtics sweatpants. He moved out of the way, but she had kneeled to untie her boots. He watched her, noticing that she had to have been in the rain for at least half an hour, since everything she wore was dripping water into the carpet of the hallway. As soon as she shucked off her boots, she walked in, setting them beside the door before standing up straight again. Soap hadn’t closed the door yet, still in shock that she was in front of him - in a soaked university sweatshirt he didn’t recognize and jeans. She glanced out the door before looking down at her clothes, then back up to Soap. “Could I use the shower? And some clothes?”

The Scot licked his lips as a way to try and wake him from his stupor, but it barely worked. “Down-Down th’ hall on th’ right, ah will git some clothes fer ya.”

She was gone then, walking down the hallway - leaving wet footprints since your socks were soaked too. All Soap could do was close his front door, lock it, and mentally kick himself in the ass. If he’d known you were coming, he would have at least brushed his teeth - and he remembered the pile of dirty laundry in his bathroom. He was going to stub his toe on purpose.

He heard the lock click on his bathroom and immediately jumped into action, moving towards his kitchen and putting away plates that had been clean for a few days, just sitting on the rack. He filled the kettle with water, placing it on his old stove and turning it on high. He then moved away, rushing to his living room and picking up his many empty bags of crisps. He threw them away before moving to his cramped laundry room next to the bathroom, hearing the water turn on as he opened the small cabinet he had to old sweatshirts and sweatpants, all of the sport and military merchandise type.

He grabbed one of his larger sweatshirts and a pair of sweats that he figured was close to her size, knowing that she probably would have felt more comfortable with him not seeing her body through his clothes she would wear. He wanted to respect her space. He turned off the light in his laundry room, noting that the shower had turned off as soon as he closed the door, he set the green and blue set of sweats in front of the bathroom. Soap then hightailed himself back to his kitchen, mind still flying thousands of miles a minute.

The kettle on his stove was beginning to whistle and he almost tripped on himself as he moved to the stove, pulling the well-loved kettle from the hot element to the cold one. He then opened his cabinets, grabbing a box of his best tea and two of his cleaner mugs. He settled them on the counter, putting the tea in the mugs just as he heard her open the bathroom door, before shutting it again. He took the mugs to his coffee table before making the smart decision to bring his small jar of sugar and his bottle of milk too, settling them on the table while he heard the door open for the final time. He looked back to his TV, trying not to seem like a creep and seeing that the Celtics were still losing. He heard her walk into the living room, he reached forwards and muted the TV as she sat on the opposite side of the couch.

“Made ya tea.” Soap looked to her, his heart pounded in his ears as he observed her in his clothes. H/C hair dropped water onto the sweatshirt as she reached forwards, putting sugar and milk in her mug.

“Thanks.” She murmured as she took the warm mug into her hands, taking a sip and sitting back. Soap wasn’t too worried about his own tea as he was why she was here.

“Do ye wanna talk about it?”

The look is her eyes almost confused Soap, she mumbled, “What?”

“Ye don’t hav’ tae talk about it if ye don’t wantae, I-I’m just curious as to how you even knew whaur I lived.”

“Ah. I-uh called Price.”

“Oh.”

She reached forwards and placed her mug down on the table, wiping her mouth before whispering a soft, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your privacy.”

He shook his head, settling his hands together and knitting his fingers. He was trying not to explode. To be honest, he had imagined her coming to his apartment on very different terms - after a date, maybe just a sleepover or just to hang out. Soap’s whole world was spinning; the girl he’s pined over for months is sitting in his apartment, crying, and he’s daydreaming over her. Get yerself together, yeh fockin’ muppet! “Uh-no! No, no- I wasn’t really doin’ anythin’.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Important. Anythin’ important, meh team was losin’ anyway.”

“Well, I just-“

Brrrrg! His phone began to ring on the coffee table next to the TV remote, his eyes glanced down to it, seeing that it was his sister. She stopped what she was saying, mumbling, “It’s okay, you can take the call.”

Soap took his phone in his hand, shutting it off before putting it back on his coffee table. If his sister really needed something she could call their dad. He looked back to Artemis, confused as to why she looked as if she was going to cry again. He reached his hand out to comfort her, she hesitantly took it. “What’s wrong? What’d I do?” She shook her head, hands going to her eyes as she sat back on the couch, clearly upset. He felt awkward then, not sure what he had done to make her cry. “Arty-“

“Thank you.” Her voice wavered as she laughed a little, leaning her head back as she wiped away her tears. “Thank you.”

“What’d I do?” Soap questioned again, curious.

She sniffled, settling against the arm of the couch as she whispered, “You just declined a call to listen to me.”

He blinked rapidly at you. Was she serious? “Well, yeh. I think whatever you say’s important.”

Her hands dug into her eyes, sniffling a little louder before her hands unceremoniously dropped to her legs. She then brought her feet up onto the couch, bringing her knees to her chest as she could rest her head on them - keeping her gorgeous face looking towards him.

His big Scottish heart felt like he was doing laps with Ghost, running as fast as he possibly could while Ghost barely broke a sweat. He almost condensed himself into remembering his first crush in primary school, how his heart beat so fast and so hard that he thought he was dying. His mum just laughed about it, telling him that he should never be scared of love.

“An-And if ya wanna talk about whatever happened, ‘m all ears. ‘Cause my ears are really big ‘n always have been, ever since I was a wee lad ‘n-“ He smacked his own hand over his mouth, the giggle that escaped her lips made his stomach do a flip. It was ethereal, like an angel had possessed her. No, he concluded, she is an angel. She’s Artemis, she’s Y/N. Y/N is an angel.

With her arms wrapped around her legs, she murmured, I-uh, my family doesn’t really like me. And they don’t really let me talk all the time… ‘n I just didn’t want to sit there and be silent for another week…”

Everything came crashing down.

How could they even dare to damage an angel like you? Your voice is the only thing I want to hear for the rest of my days, you’re so witty and smart and I will never deserve you. And I know for a fact that you don’t deserve them and they do not fucking deserve you.

“Well, you can say whatever you want to me. I’ll never shut ya up, but you might have to shut me up ‘cause I’m loud and obnoxious and I talk too much-“

“No, Johnny.” Her hand grabbed the one flailing about, her fingers pressed into his pulse point. “You’re perfect.”

For the first time in John MacTavish’s life, he was speechless.

———

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[lacontroller1991]

Whumptober Day 1: Johnny Lawrence

Main Master List || Whumptober Master List

DAY 1: Drugging/Sick/Poisoned (Sub: Bloody Knuckles)

Summary: You got in a fight for your life and the only thing you could think about is going to the comfort of your sensei, unknowing of your wounds.

WARNINGS: Blood, open wounds, ILLUSION TO ATTEMPTED S.A

----------

You don’t know where you’re going. You don’t know what day it is. You don’t know whether it’s sunny or raining and you don't know what time it is. All you know is that your feet subconsciously carry you to the door of the man who had inadvertently saved your life. Letting out a shaky sigh, you slowly raise your fist, hoping that he’s home. Knocking against the wooden door, you wince from the pain, looking down at your knuckles and seeing red everywhere.

Too engrossed in your thoughts, you don’t realize when the door opens, revealing your sensei on the other side, confused as to why you showed up at his door. “(Y/N)?” Your name being called snaps you out of your thoughts as you look up at Johnny, your lip quivering slightly before you launch yourself into him, grabbing onto his shirt and sobbing into the fabric. In confusion and concern, Johnny guides you through his door before shutting it, letting you cling to him. “What’s going on?” 

“I- I was walking home from class- and- these guys came from nowhere. I had to-” you choke, sniffling, ignoring the way your fists burn. “I had to defend myself.” Johnny doesn’t need a full explanation to get the gist of what had transpired. Looking down, he winces at your busted, bloody knuckles. Despite the situation, he is glad that you were able to utilize what he has taught you to defend yourself, afterall, that’s what it’s for.

“Ok, ok. Let’s get them cleaned up,” he comments softly, guiding you to his bathroom and sitting you down on the toilet. He rushes to the medical cabinet, grabbing some alcohol wipes, bandages and hydrogen peroxide before returning to your side, kneeling in front of you. “This is gonna hurt. Is that ok?” 

You nod silently, holding out your hands to him, not really saying anything. You watch as he gently takes your hands in his, wiping away the dried blood with some alcohol and revealing your busted knuckles. You slightly flinch away from him as he pours hydrogen peroxide and he immediately pulls away, looking up at you in concern. 

“Are you ok?”

You nod your head, tears having subsided to hiccups. “Yeah, sorry, I’m still shaken.”

“Don’t apologize. I know that even if you have the tools to protect yourself it still doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s terrifying. I hate that you had to use them.” His voice is sincere as you allow him to retake your hands, lightly dabbing the peroxide onto the wounds. In the dojo, Johnny is intimidating and can come off as scary, but when you get to know him, he really cares about each and every student. “I remember when I lost the All Valley tournament back in ‘84 my sensei had placed me in a chokehold. I was so terrified that even though I was really good at karate, it didn’t mean anything in that moment. It really says something about your strength that you fought through that fear,” his words are more comforting than you thought they would be as he finishes wrapping up your knuckles. “Do you want to go to the police? Get those bastards behind bars?”

You shake your head, a small smile on your face. “Even though my knuckles are fucked up, you should see them.” Johnny smiles in response, standing to his full height and offering you a hand, helping you up.

“I don’t doubt it. You’re one hell of a fighter. Do you need a ride home?” 

“Can I stay here for a little?” Johnny is slightly confused as to why you would want to stay at his place but he doesn’t make a comment on it. Instead, he moves to his kitchen and pulls out two Coors Banquets, handing one to you. 

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You nod in thanks, taking a seat on the couch next to him as he turns on his tv. The both of you watch in silence for a few minutes before you turn to look at him. 

“Hey sensei?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. Without you teaching me, I don’t want to know what could’ve happened to me.” 

“I’m just glad that the lessons were useful and that you can protect yourself.” He smiles in return, taking a sip from his beer. You nod in response, taking a sip of your own beer as you internally thank yourself for walking into Cobra Kai that one day that changed your life. 

==========

[freesia-writes]

Hello 👋 💌💌💌

This week has been super draining and I'm in need of some good hurt/comfort/angst with my man's cross 😪😪

(Ofc you don't have to pay attention to this considering the theme)

I was wondering if u can write a one shot in which fem! reader is assaulted sexually ( NOT r*pe) but maybe creep gets to like groping area and scarily close to 'more' and so cross notices reader struggling with creep and goes full on rage on the creep, like I'm talking its gotta take more than just wreaker to get crosses fists away from the guys face. And maybe when the bastard is delt with and cross has came to his senses he comforts reader 👉👈

(I don't know if you've written one like this before . So if you're uncomfortable with the suggestion then please just ignore this 🖤🖤)

Hi anon! I'm sorry to hear it's been a draining week. I've been in a Crosshair vortex so you had good timing. ;) I really appreciate such a kind and considerate ask! I hope I nailed it for ya. <3 Crosshair divider by @djarrex

Crosshair x Fem!Reader - SFW - 2.4k words - triggers for sexual assault up to grabbing/neck kissing, violence of a fistfight, emotional repercussions of it all

It was a busy night at 79s, and you were thrilled to see not only a variety of battalions on shore leave but also Clone Force 99. You’d been bartending for almost a year now and had proven yourself proficient enough to manage a shift with the service droids, although tonight you were silently wishing for some extra help as it was a particularly raucous atmosphere in the neon-light-filled club. Your head was spinning already with the endless stream of drink orders and random thoughts being yelled in your direction, but you took a deep breath and focused on the rote muscle memory of preparing the drinks. 

Face after face, trooper after trooper. All alike and yet not even close. You forced a laugh at a cheesy joke, shook your head at an invitation to dance, and handed over a whole line of smoking shot glasses to a pilot with mischief in his eyes. The music shifted to the beginning of a new song, which mercifully was quieter in its intro, and you had a blessed moment to breathe and hear more than just the deafening bass vibrating in your chest as well as your ears. It was at that moment that you saw Crosshair leaning over the bar, catching your eye with his sharp gaze. Your heart did a little flip; you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why this man had you in such a chokehold, but something about the push and pull, the revealing and concealing, the banter and depth had you feeling a certain kind of way about him. 

“Glad to see you boys are back,” you said, resting on your elbows to bring yourself close enough to hear his beautiful voice of cinnamon and amber. “What will it be tonight?”

“Have you forgotten already?” Crosshair drawled, slowly rolling the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. His delivery was deadpan but the glimmer in his rich brown eyes said otherwise.

“I would never!” you gasped in mock indignation, relishing the microscopic curl of the corner of his lips. “But I never know if you’ve found some fancy new creation on your wild and wonderful adventures.”

“Eh. Seems like the best stuff is right here at home,” he returned, tilting his head to allow the vague yet undeniable implication simmer between you. You wanted to linger there all evening, but you had already used up all the time you’d get -- a whole horde of thirsty patrons were yelling at you from across the counter and the service droids were getting backed up.

“The usual, coming right up,” you said, begrudgingly returning to your work. 

The night seemed to go by painstakingly slowly, and you found yourself scanning the crowd to see where Clone Force 99 had posted up for the night. They were usually upstairs, in some quiet corner (as quiet as could be found in the raucous club), out of sight and out of the way. The company of their own squad seemed to be sufficient for them, and they rarely interacted with the other troopers. When they did, it didn’t seem to go well. Just when you thought you were getting a bit of a reprieve, with most of the groups being served and satiated for now, the one clone face you always hated to see appeared at the bar. 

You didn’t know his name, or his CT number, so you always just called him Pervert. He was grizzled and scarred from battle, and apparently that gave him a confidence that he didn’t truly deserve. His relentlessness in hitting on unsuspecting victims was rivaled only by his tendency to get into fisticuffs with little to no provocation. You wanted to feel sorry for him, but you were so frequently the object of his pursuit despite repeated, clear insistence that you weren’t interested, that your sympathy had worn thin. 

He was on another level tonight. You’d already seen a few individuals storm out, frustrated by his raunchy humor and persistent touches, and he’d had a few more drinks than usual. Things were slowing down a bit, as the night wore down to closing time, and you had some gaps between orders to begin restocking and cleaning in preparation for the sweet freedom at the end of your shift. Leaving the service droids to fulfill the occasional drink order that would trickle in, you headed to the utility closet to organize the supplies in anticipation of a quick and efficient clean-up once everyone had left. 

The light was broken again, and you squinted to make out the shapes of the tools you needed, illuminated only by the reflection of the endless neon flashes from the main room. You’d fetched the broom and were searching for the mop when suddenly the light was blocked by a looming shadow in the doorway. Turning around quickly, you were surprised, and immediately fearful, to see Pervert slumped against the frame. 

“Get out of here, Perv. You know you’re not supposed to be back here,” you yelled, absolutely not in the mood for his shenanigans. There was something menacing about his posture though, and your voice quavered despite the feigned bravado in your words. 

“You know you’ve been toying with me long enough,” he slurred, shifting to stand on wobbly feet.

“I’m not toying and you know it. I’m not interested. Now go before I call--”

“Call who, you little tease? There’s no one here that would even miss you,” he said, voice growing louder as he took a tottering step toward you. Your grip tightened on the broom handle, and you felt the cold grip of fear settle more tightly around your core. “Girls like you need to be shown a thing or two,” he continued, reaching for you.

“Stop it!” you shrieked, pressing the broom across his chest and shoving with all your might. But he was already leaning fully in your direction, and you weren’t in any position to brace yourself or take a good swing at him. Before you knew it, he had you pressed against the wall, hot breath burning with alcohol as he shoved his mouth against your ear. 

“Come on, you know you’ve only been postponing the ineninivitibble…” he growled, and you were nearly in a panic now. You struggled against him, trying to get any kind of leverage with your knee or arms, but he’d gotten you pinned far too quickly, and began to bury his face in your neck with a hungry sloppiness that made your stomach turn. You opened your mouth to yell again, but a clammy hand covered it immediately, and you felt the panic threaten to overwhelm you. 

But suddenly he flew backward, crashing into the opposite side of the supply closet with arms and legs everywhere. You gasped, relief and shock cascading over you simultaneously as you recognized Crosshair’s frame in the doorway, dark and backlit by the club lights. He said something, but you were falling apart so much that you didn’t even register his words, and Pervert was already scrambling to his feet with an angry roar. 

Crosshair grabbed your hand, pulling you out the door behind him in one swift movement and turning back to face the inebriated clone, but the split second distraction cost him dearly -- Pervert barreled straight at him, head down, crashing into his stomach and tackling him into the hallway. You yelled incoherent nonsense, frozen to the spot and torn between trying to help somehow or running out to get help. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave Crosshair though, and you tried to swing a kick at Pervert as his fists flailed around the sniper’s head. 

He somehow caught your leg, twisting it and toppling you to the ground with a pained cry, and was on his feet in an instant. But Crosshair matched his speed, and the two of them were at it immediately. Blows landed with sickening thuds, and there was no semblance of gentlemanly combat but rather an all-out, animalistic mess of knees, fingernails, elbows, punches, and kicks. You felt as though you were going to throw up, whether from the pain radiating from your knee or the adrenaline coursing through your veins at the sight before you. It was hard to tell who had the upper hand -- you yelped as you saw Crosshair take a blow to the face, and when he turned back, eyes flashing with more rage than you’d ever seen, there was blood trickling down the corner of his mouth. 

It felt as though it went on forever, and when you caught the movement of a figure crossing the hallway down at the end, you began screaming as though your life depended on it. It caught his attention, and you thanked the Maker as you heard some shouts in the main room, followed by his reappearance with a few others. They usually didn’t intervene when Pervert was on a tear, though, so you were hoping beyond all desperate hope that they were here to help and not just to watch and cheer. 

They couldn’t even get close.

Crosshair was absolutely feral, wrestling now with Pervert like a predatory animal, snarling audibly as he drove a knee into the clone’s side. He crumpled to the ground and Crosshair was on him in a flash, pummeling him with punches that were as relentless as the sexual advances that Pervert had been dealing out. You couldn’t tell if Pervert was even moving anymore, and you felt the fear start to blur your vision, but the clones grabbed Crosshair by the arms and pulled him away, leaving his opponent in a motionless heap. They had their hands full though, as they were met with growls and squirms as Crosshair sought to free himself from their grasp, still lunging for the figure on the ground. His face was contorted, bright red and sweaty, and you couldn’t tear your eyes from it until another clone approached you, bending down and offering to help you up. 

It took a while for everything to die down. 

Pervert was taken away and some of the local police droids remained behind. Statements and holos were taken, and one of the clone medics gave you a quick bacta injection to hold you over until you could receive proper medical attention. Crosshair had disappeared, and you were leaning over the sink in the refresher, splashing cold water over your face with trembling hands. You did your best to fix your appearance, at least pulling your clothes back where they belonged, then limped out to the main floor. You almost collapsed in relief as you saw that the police droids had cleared the bar out, deeming it to be closed prematurely, and the silence was as deafening as it was welcoming after the whole ordeal. 

There would be no cleanup tonight. You instructed the droids to complete as much of it as they were capable, and collapsed onto a stool to balance the credit register. It was wildly difficult to keep a singular train of thought, and you had to refocus yourself repeatedly, taking twice as long for a usually easy task. A smooth voice over your shoulder startled you into dropping an entire handful of credits, a curse falling from your lips as you whirled to see Crosshair. 

“Sorry,” he said, hands in the air in submission, “I just…”

“Crosshair!” you interrupted, eyes widening at the sight of him. His left eye was swollen and surrounded by black and blue, and the right side of his bottom lip still had a formidable split in it that he had to keep dabbing with a napkin. “Ohh, I’m so sorry. Look at you,” you said, eyes beginning to glisten with tears. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but the mere thought of getting off your stool was too much until you realized you had to pick up all the credits you’d just scattered. With painstaking movement, you shuffled off, moving toward him for a moment as you took in his bruised yet intent face. “I feel so bad,” you murmured. 

“It was worth it,” he answered, eyes narrowing as he continued, “That filthy reg deserved every bit.”

“But you didn’t,” you said softly, mouth curving into a frown. 

The conversation stalled as you bent down to pick up the credits, surprised when he joined you to help. Your eyes met as he handed you a few, and you cupped his hand with intentionality as you took them from him, brushing his red knuckles with your thumb before staggering to your feet with a wince. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, taking a step closer as you leaned backward onto your stool, dropping the credits into a bag and zipping it shut.

“I will be,” you said, moved by his compassion that seemed such a stark contrast to the sharp exterior. You looked at him again, yearning to convey so much but being entirely too shell shocked to put it into words. “Thank you,” you whispered, eyes dropping to your hands, which were folding and unfolding awkwardly in your lap. His fingers lightly grazed the side of your cheek, causing you to flinch disproportionately, and he retracted them quickly.

“Sorry.”

“No, it… normally it would be nice… sorry… I’m kind of a mess right now.” 

“Understandable.”

But the combination of his gaze, his presence, and his bravery cleared some of the fog in your mind like the sun breaking through the clouds on a coastal morning, and you lurched to your feet again, wrapping your arms around him in a sudden hug that made him freeze for a moment. You pulled them tightly yet carefully around his waist, pressing the side of your head against his chest and shoulder to try to express your gratitude. His stiffness slowly gave way to movement, and he rested his own arms awkwardly over your shoulders. 

“Thank you,” you said again, pulling away to meet his gaze but leaving your arms around his waist. You didn’t think you’d want to be touched, but he felt strong and safe, a soothing presence in the face of all that had transpired. “Really,” you emphasized, heart skipping a beat at the flash of softness in his beautiful eyes. 

“It’s alright,” his sybillant voice was honey to your ears.

You had a feeling this wouldn’t be the end of things between you.

Tag List: @wolffegirlsunite @littlefeatherr @secretthegriffin @arctrooper69 @dystopicjumpsuit @foreverdaydreaming1 @stunkbiggu @mxkyrie @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @littlemissbshine @atomickidsoul @dreamy411 @skellymom @followthepurrgil @the-hexfiles @1vlouds

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[hannahhook7744]

You crazy-assed cosmonaut!;

Summary: Hades gets in a fist fight with a thirteen year old in the parking lot of Ursula’s Fish and Chips.  Trigger warnings: violence, child-adult fighting, swearing, theft, implied food insecurity, etc. Gift for @igetthedisneybox . I will post this on ao3 later.

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Oc Guide:

Zee Snoops is Madam Medusa's daughter.

Nate Stiltskin is Rumplestiltskin's son.

Hannah Hook is Captain Hook's daughter.

Kailani ‘Clever’ Athanasiou, is the daughter of Ursula and Dr. Facilier.

Tiger Khan is Shere Khan's adopted human daughter.

D.E Anonymous's parentage is unknown.

Tommy Wonderful is Misty the wonderful witch's daughter.

--------------------------------------------------------

In hindsight, fist fighting the dad of like… four of her friends…was not the smartest move thirteen year old Diamond Zoë 'Zee' Snoops had made. 

Especially not when the man in question was a god…

But, the brunette refused to regret it or back out now.

Even if fist fighting Hades in the parking lot of Ursula’s fish and Chips over one seaweed smoothie, two slightly used candies, and one curdled pudding was probably gonna be the last thing she ever did.

Hopefully Hannah wouldn’t revive her just to kill her again when she found out about this if she did end up dying. 

--------------------------------------------------------

Kailani grimaced, watching in horror from inside as Zee got Hades in a chokehold. Glancing over hesitantly at Tiger, D.E, and Tommy. “Should we… should we stop ‘em?”

Little eight year old Tommy was peeking through her hands, too scared to watch without the barrier of her hands in the way. Wiggling on her stool so much that her gerbil (who’s name the merperson couldn’t quite remember) nearly fell off her shoulder. 

D.E (who’s age and face they still didn’t know) sat up in the rafters of the restaurant, peeking out the hole in the roof that Kailani’s mother still refused to get fixed as she sipped on her third anchovy smoothie of the hour.

Neither of them seemed to hear her.

But Tiger, who was on what had to be her third  basket of fried shrimp shells, did hear her. “Let them fight. I wanna see who wins.”

Kailani sighed, draping a hand towel over her shoulder and crossing her arms. “You know Hannah's gonna kill them both, right?”

Tiger waved her off, not looking bothered in the slightest. “No she won't. Just relax and enjoy the show. This is WAAAAY better than what Boreadon has on Tv!”

Nate snorted from under the counter, causing Kailani to jump back in fright. “You got that right. If I have to sit through ONE more episode of Toddlers without Tiaras, I’m going to steal Beast’s first born child—”

“WHEN THE FUCK DID YOU GET THERE?! HOW THE FUCK—ARE YOU EATING THE CANDY STASH?!”

The blonde didn’t even blink before answering  with a non apologetic “No.” As if he wasn’t surrounded by candy wrappers; the lying rat bastard. 

The teal haired girl didn’t hesitate and grabbed the broom from the corner before Nate could fully escape from the small space he’d lodged himself in. Quickly swatting at him with it. 

“Ow! Ow! Clever, come on dearie—OW!”

“Don’t you dearie me, you blonde worm!”

“Worm?! EXCUSE YOU, I AM ONE OF THE MOST PO—”

“Annoying moochs of the isle!”

“I AM NOT A MOOC—OUCH!”

--------------------------------------------------------

Zee bit Hades’ hand, hard when he tried to pull her off his back. Causing him to stumble and  yowl with pain. 

“Listen little girl, I am NOT—” He flung her off of him. “In the mood for these games—”

She lunged at him. “Give me back my candy and my soda!”

“I CAN’T! I ALREADY ATE THEM!” He tried (and failed to doge), growling in irritation as the teen smacked him. “WILL YOU STOP IT?!”

The brunette snarled at him. “NO!”

"HADES—"

"DAD—"

"FATHER—"

"TÁTA—"

"ZEE—"

"—WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

Hades and Zee both froze, slowly turning to see one very angry Persephone, one exasperated Hannah Hook, and all of Hades very shocked children staring at them.

Persephone had her hands on her hips.

And Hannah?

Well, Hannah just gave Zee a look that told her that she was going to be on toilet duty for a long, long time if she didn't like her explanation...

So, the two of them did the only thing either of them could think of—quickly pointing at one another.

"It was him—"

"It was her—"

"—What no it wasn't!"

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured has me in a chokehold. Has us ALL in a chokehold. ty <3 Want to apologize for how long this got… sorry

Trying to sympathize with Olga and Alexia but it's a little hard to because it seems like they've never spoken about Bambi’s presence and what that meant when Olga first got into a relationship with Alexia.

In each instance Alexia seems to see Bambi as an afterthought—and she’s normalized it to the point where she can’t help but just blurt stuff out and push Bambi to the side. It’s selfish and very traumatizing to Bambi :( why didn't they have a conversation about whether or not Olga was ready to form a relationship with not only Alexia, but Bambi too?

Had they not considered trying to co-parent Bambi first before deciding to have Jaume? It goes both ways for Alexia and Olga and the miscommunication is not just concerning for Bambi, but Jaume too. The whole bit about “I love Jaume bc he’s mine but mostly bc he’s your’s too” is so disconcerting because ??? all along Bambi’s been here and she’s Alexia’s. Was Bambi always going to be that bastard child Olga couldn’t fully love just because she wasn’t something Olga (nor Alexia, kinda) really wanted?

This is a little irrational but what if Olga decides that Jaume is actually her’s the way she’s internalized that Bambi’s Alexia’s? I feel like it’s so wrong to assume possession of a child when you get into a relationship with someone who has children already. It’s not to say Olga needs to want Bambi as much as Jenni does immediately… but I feel like it would’ve been much less painful to have considered forming a relationship with Alexia AND Bambi. What are your thoughts?

ig I just really like how complex and thought-evoking everything is! Olga didn’t try with Bambi because she didn’t want to be rejected by Alexia. Alexia didn’t try to get Olga and Bambi to interact more because she thought Olga didn’t want to. The true villain here is miscommunication and clearly the two need to be more frank about where they’re heading because this seems like slippery slope into a bad marriage and …really bad parenting. Alexia’s already overcompensating with Jaume and I doubt that’s any good too.

It’s kind of easy to align with Alba and Jenni considering the Putellas-Rios household so far has done nothing but harm poor Bambi. I do appreciate seeing their views and the grovelling Alexia doing… but team Jenni! She’s at an advantage where she can prioritize Bambi and always consider what’s best for the child. Not only that, but she truly wants Bambi and is being so mature and respectful towards Alexia about it (sorry lol… I currently cannot fathom how Alexia could possibly get us to the reconciliation outcome. Enjoying the attempts though.) Kids should never have to go through parents who don’t completely, wholeheartedly want them. It creates resentment in both the kid… and a little bit in the parent. Bambi is definitely the definition of forced to grow up and she shouldn’t have to.

Honestly all I wanted to ask was where you currently align in terms of reconciliation or not. It’d be cool to see a little bit more of your thought process with regard to Bambi and what you think is best for her. Sorry about the long msg!

ps. lowkey was like “you got eggsma?” at Bambi the entire time

Don't apologise. I love these kinds of long messages.

It is such a complex situation because Alexia and Olga both have different ideas and thought processes and they never even realised until this was all going on.

Bambi was always a little bit self-sufficient, it was just how she was but this whole situation is maturing her much too quickly.

Of course, I'm way more informed than you guys about where this is all going/how reconciliation could be achieved. Right now, it looks pretty grim but Alexia did put in some effort (even if she did muck up the ending). Everyone can see that she's trying whether or not it's successful.

The next part is definitely going to be a bit rough for Bambi and Jenni though but somehow a bit healing in some parts. It's very easy to put Alexia and Olga as villains in Bambi's story but Jenni isn't perfect either and the next part is definitely going to be a bit of a warning about how small things can freak out a traumatised child even if you have the best intentions