#if this in any way gets me angry mobs again

[yourmidnightlover]

forever?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

summary: after being forced into a marriage you didn’t want, you become very cautious of your new husband out of fear of what he’s capable of when one of his employees makes a move at a dinner meeting.

warnings: anxious reader, threat of domestic violence (reader is just worried abt it), groping, please let me know if i missed something or need to add anything!

a/n: reader is very timid in this. i know a lot of people like a reader who doesn’t take shit and stands up for herself, but i often find myself in situations where i just shut down and don’t know how to respond… so this is kinda inspired by that feeling

two months out of forever.

two months of what seemed like wedded bliss from the outside.

in reality, that “bliss” included sleeping in separate rooms, never even seeing each other unless necessary to make appearances for either of your parents. 

the ones who arranged for this to happen in the first place. 

you were just glad you were able to have your time for yourself. you thought you would use the time to continue writing for your book, but you’ve hit a serious case of writers block. so lovely. 

on the bright side, he wasn’t as controlling as your few friends had made it seem he would be. 

they had painted this picture of a monster in your head. a man who would loom over your presence during every waking second. a man who was controlling and wouldn’t let you have a personal life or secrets.

so far, he’s been the opposite. 

for some reason, that still leaves you unsteady. 

because they also painted him in a very violent, angry, red light. 

but maybe he had a mistress. if that were the case, he truly didn’t respect you or your family. it didn’t seem like bucky to do that, though. he wouldn’t ruin a business deal that benefitted him so much. 

the reason you married him was because your father’s finance business was going under, drowned in debts while the only options were to sell to the barnes’ or the rumlow’s. the barnes’ seemed the lesser of two evils.

the only way to smoothly transition your father’s business to be under the barnes’ control without raising any question of your father’s capability was to marry. if any questions were asked about why your father sold his company, the not so good side of the finance industry would trample after your entire family. the barnes’ would get a new company and their many clients, while your family wouldn’t become entirely blacklisted by the entire country, would be putting your family under the barnes’ protection, and there would be less questions asked as to why the company had been merged.

you had a few months of “leaking” images of you and bucky together into the tabloids to prepare the public for the news of such a big marriage. some were photos of you and bucky holding hands while walking. a couple of you at a restaurant smiling. a few staged kissing photos… those may or may not have been your favorite.

those times spent with him, in all honesty, weren’t bad at all. going for walks together at sunset, dinner dates, feeling his lips against yours…

you had gotten to know more about his childhood that the tabloids didn’t feel was important to cover. his favorite subject in school and how he actually lost his arm so many years ago. you learned each others’ fears and worries in life. your favorite thing to learn about him, however, was what he truly wanted in life. 

peace.

a couple weeks after the wedding, a few photos of the reception were once again “leaked” in order to sell the “too in love to wait” bit that everyone had started assuming upon seeing the first few photos of you and bucky together. 

but all of your history with him flew to the back of your mind as bucky knocked on your office door. 

“come in,” you replied hesitantly, not sure what he wanted from you for the first time since your wedding. he stepped through the threshold and stood at the doorframe. 

“there’s a work meeting tomorrow,” his hand remained on the doorknob, so stiff you’d think he might rip it off the precious white wood in seconds. “the men are meeting at the house. i wanted to let you know. the men in this business, they expect marriages to be of the… traditional values.”

you nodded with understanding, turning to face him with a forced grin. “so i should play the part of the doting housewife, huh?” no smile in return, so you bit back your humor in turn for matching his serious tone. “what food should i prepare, then? and uh, how many guests will we be expecting?”

“whatever’s easiest for you,” he shrugged lightly. “there will be 9 of us there.” with one final look in your direction, he left the office and didn’t return to say goodnight. 

-

the next morning you got to work setting the house up for the 6pm meeting your loving husband was hosting. 

you had decided to set up a buffet-style table outside of the main dining room where the meeting would take place. for the menu, you settled on simple grilled chicken with quite a few side options. roast potatoes, asparagus, sauteed carrots, green beans, and rolls. 

you were putting the rolls in the oven when bucky got home, seemingly entranced by the smell of all the food, heading straight to the kitchen.

“it smells amazing in here,” bucky called from the archway of the kitchen. you jumped slightly from the surprise, but swallowed down the shock and another weak smile. 

“thanks,” you nodded to the edge of the island where a large chalkboard sat, your handwriting neatly displayed on the board that listed all the food to be had. “the menu. i figured a variety would be nice, and who doesn’t like chicken, right?”

“vegetarians,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling a joke. but you knew better than that. “the men are coming in a little less than an hour. do you maybe want to change before they get here?”

you looked down at what you were wearing, a pair of blue jeans and a loose t-shirt clearly not worthy of someone who had married a barnes man. “right, of course. i’m sorry,” you finished setting the timer on the oven and ran upstairs to get yourself put together before bucky saw the tears trying to seep past your waterline. 

you settled on a black cocktail dress you had worn to one of your dad’s company events before the downfall… quickly swiping some makeup on to cover the exhaustion in your eyes and pulling your hair up to a more respectable updo rather than your typical messy bun. 

luckily you had become an expert at quickly getting ready from your time in university, as you were back in time to pull the rolls from the oven, but not before pulling on your apron. you’d be dammed if you got this stunning dress dirty right before this prestigious meeting. 

t-5 minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin and you could already hear lots of rustling from the formal dining room. you knocked on the closed doors before bucky opened the door for you. 

the men went silent as their gaze rested on you in the doorway. 

“the foods ready. buffet style?” your eyes didn’t leave bucky’s pretty blues, too scared to do anything wrong in front of his men. 

“that’s perfect, my love,” his hands gravitated to your waist before pulling your body taut against his, one hand moving a stray hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper. “you look ravishing…”

as he pulled back, you were sure your blush was evident across your cheeks. you tried to hide it behind a smile, shrugging with a shy ‘thanks’ leaving your lips. 

“what do you say to my stunning wife, boys?” his hand squeezed your waist once more before turning to the other men, ‘thank you’s being echoed throughout the room as they stood and made their way to the kitchen to make their plates. 

in a matter of minutes, all the food was gone. you figured it was best they liked the food, even if you didn’t get to try any of it yourself like you had planned. 

you got started on cleaning everything up with earbuds in your ears, starting with the dishes already in the sink from when you were cooking. then, you were sure to place the dishes that the food was in inside the sink for you to clean before starting on wiping the counters, then sweeping, then mopping, and then back to the dishes. 

you didn’t realize that bucky had called for a break in the meeting, however. you were in for quite the rude awakening when you felt a pair of hands on your waist, but not the ones you were semi-familiar with. 

you turned around with a gasp, shock evident on your face as you tried to piece together whoever this man was. blond hair, blue eyes… definitely not steve though. you knew steve well and had seen him often. 

you pulled your earbuds from your ears in attempt to better understand what was going on. his hands were still gripping your sides, but you couldn’t necessarily escape his touch. you were backed against the sink. even if you could fight him, you’d likely lose to his strong grip. 

“is the meeting-is it over already?” your voice was so much more cowardly than you’d ever expected yourself to be. 

“no, no,” he shook his head. “just a little break, some of the guys were getting antsy.” you leaned back further, trying to create some semblance of space between you. “i figured i’d say a special thank you, on behalf of all of us guys in there.” he let one hand cup the side of your face and neck, his other hand trailing down from your waist, firmly grasping your ass with a sqeeze before you jumped at the invasion.

“i don’t-i’ve got it…”

“john,” he smiled grossly, as if he could convince you to go to bed with him.

“no need for a thanks,” you tried to remind him. “i did this for bucky. for my husband.” your eyebrows rose, trying to emphasize that his boss was also your husband. 

“i’m sure he won’t mind you getting a little bit of extra special attention, don’t you?”

then, a growling voice cut through the fear running through your veins. 

“i think he might mind.”

you turned to face bucky with wide eyes before facing john, wishing the tears welling in your eyes would just go away. 

his hands slowly retracted, stepping back with a chuckle.

“sorry, sir,” he smiled before turning to face your husband. “she was just telling me how she wanted some extra attention, weren’t you, toots?” he tilted his head expectantly.

your mouth opened, nothing leaving in spite of your brain screaming at you. what would bucky do? would he take his side? would he believe you? would he hurt you? 

you’ve embarrassed him now… humiliated him in his own home. surely he’ll take action against you for this. 

your mind replayed stories your old friends had told you about him. how he would lash out at men that betrayed him. how he never took shit from anyone who showed him any disrespect. how he was the kind of man to shoot first and ask quesitons later.

and now, in a way, you’ve both betrayed and disrespected him. or at least, that’s what he’ll think. 

you didn’t even realize tears were flowing down your face until your sobs were interrupted. 

“enough!” you finally looked at bucky before his eyes softened for a second before walking closer to you. “go to the room.” he ordered sternly. 

“but the dish-”

“i’ll take care of it,” he interrupted gravely, “go. to. the. room.” 

“yes, sir,” you nodded and swiftly left the room entirely, collapsing against the door once you had shut it, sobs wracking your body. you held your knees against your chest before trying to regulate your breathing.

he won’t hurt you.

he has to protect his image.

you’ve embarrassed him.

you’re his wife.

you’re his business deal.

you’ve humiliated him.

he’ll hurt you.

you didn’t know how long it had been since the incident. 

your sobs had subsided. you had, at some point, moved to your bed. you were still rocking your body back and forth, trying to self sooth. 

and then there was a knock at the door. 

your body instinctively jumped at the sudden noise, although it wasn’t harsh in any manner, at least not one that you were expecting. 

he twisted the knob, slowly opening the door with slow movements. 

“i-i’m so sorry,” you began apologizing as soon as he stepped through the threshold into your room. “i swear-i swear i didn’t tell him that. i didn’t even realize he was there, i promise. i wouldn’t lie to you. i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry. please believe me.” your body was still rocking and you didn’t even notice he was as close to you as he was until you saw his hand moving by your head.

automatically, you assumed the absolute worst, your head ducking into your body like a fucking turtle, the meekest squeal leaving your lips mixed with a sob. your arms went over your head protectively, as if a bomb were about to go off.

“sweetheart,” his voice sounded so broken, so torn, so unexpectedly soft. 

you finally looked at him for the first time since he came in your room. his flesh hand was holding his metal one as if it were something that could kill. in ways, it was. 

“you-there’s no need to…” after looking at him for a second longer, you noticed that his eyes had tears that almost mirrored your own. “i would never, ever lay a hand on you. i’m so sorry for scaring you. i can’t…” he sighed. “i can’t believe i made you believe i’d ever hurt you.”

“i’m sorry,” you pleaded with him once again. 

“you have nothing to apologize for,” he hesitated to reach for your hands before settling on simply grabbing a spare pillow. “i came up here to apologize. for my tone earlier… i know john. he never knows his boundaries. i should’ve… you never should’ve been put in that situation. that’s my fault. that’s on me. and i will spend the rest of forever to make it up to you.” 

“you don’t have to-”

“no, my love,” he shook his head. “can i-can i hold your hands? please?” you, without hesitation, grabbed his hands yourself. “i need to make it up to you. you’re mine. you’re my wife. it’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe. and to have someone ruin that? to touch what’s mine in my own home? i’m so sorry.” he brought your hands to his lips, pressing at least ten kisses to each hand. he was so gentle and careful it was a good thing you knew better than to think it actually meant anything.

you were surprised, to say the least, at how tender he was being with you. 

how could you have ever thought he would hurt you? that he would raise his hand and swing? that he would cause you harm? he was here declaring that he would make up this incident for the rest of eternity when it wasn’t even his doing… 

“will you stay with me tonight?” his eyes lit up at the request.

“are you sure you want that?” he became a touch more reserved. “i don’t know if it’s a good idea since you were worried i would…” his voice trailed off.

“i’m sure,” you nodded before scooting over in the bed. 

sure, your marriage was arranged and didn’t stem from true love. you may not have talked outside of when absolutely necessary. you might have even been terrified of him at one point. 

but now, the thought of forever with bucky barnes didn’t seem half bad. 

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #marvel #sargeant barnes #sargeant bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes hurt/comfort #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes whump #bucky x fem!reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #winter soldier #marvel au #bucky barnes au #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky fanfic

[prettyfastcars]

He has me by my heart | Mob!Lando x Reader

Summary: Lando is bad for you. You know that, countless people have told you this. But no matter how corrupted, dark, and wicked he was. No matter how possessive, jealous, and insane he could be, almost childishly so. Despite it all, he had you by your heart, and there was no getting away from him. 

Themes: mob!lando, daddy kink, smut, explicit language, possessive!lando, 

a/n: you know those videos of Lando being escorted by police in italy yeahhhh

You saw it on the news. 

Then again, everyone did. Ever since he was arrested a few weeks ago, people tuned in any moment they could to follow his story. He was well-known, filthy rich, and dangerous. He went against the law a lot. But somehow there was never enough evidence against him that incriminated him. 

Lando had too many loyal servants who were willing to lay down their lives in order to keep him away from being locked up in prison. But a few weeks ago, a couple days after you both broke up after a huge fight, he was arrested. 

Apparently he got into a rather violent fight at some exclusive club. Videos of it circulated around everywhere. And it was the most convicting evidence that had ever surfaced regarding him so the authorities used that to at least lock him up for a little time while they tried to dig up more stuff about him. 

However, that ended up not happening. Lando’s people kept everything clean. Every dirty work happened in the dark with no witnesses. Every skeleton was carefully placed in impregnable closets. So the authorities had no choice but to release him. 

The day of his release, you watched him on TV. How he gloated as the authorities let him go. How he enjoyed the many cameras filming him, taking pictures of him which would later surely spark many conversations in the media. He had always liked the attention. 

Even through the screen you could see it on his face. The arrogance, the smirks, the determined, proud look in his eyes like he was an unchallengeable monarch. He walked to his car, grinning like a king. He was, in many ways. A king in the darker side of life. 

Just then, your phone rang. It was an unknown number. You answered it with your heart racing, part of you already knew who was calling. 

“Hello?” You tried your hardest to sound as unbothered as possible. 

He chuckled from the other side of the call. “Hey princess, missed me?” 

You exhaled shakily, “Lando.” 

He scoffed, “You sound a little out of breath there, baby. Have you been watching me on TV?” He laughed. “You knew they could never keep me locked up for long, didn’t you princess? We talked about this, remember?” 

Oh. So he was doing the thing where he pretended that you two hadn’t had a big fight, said cruel things to each other and decided to go your separate ways. Yet again. 

“Why are you calling me?” You said, “We broke up, remember?” 

He sighed like he was annoyed, “Come on, princess. You know that wasn’t real, right?” He argued. “We were both tired and angry, and we didn’t mean it.” He didn’t even wait for you to respond as he said, “I’m coming over later, and then we’ll talk. Alright, princess? I can’t wait to see you.” 

With that he ended the call. And you were standing there in the middle of your apartment feeling confused. As always. 

When he comes over later, you thought, you’d set everything straight and break up with him for good this time. 

— 

Hours passed. 

You realised you shouldn’t just sit and wait for him. But you were anxious so you couldn’t do anything else other than wait. 

Later in the evening, three knocks at your door signalled that he was here. You stood there for a short while, fresh out of the shower and still in your fluffy robe as you stared at the door. You decided you were going to keep this short. 

He’d walk in, you’d talk, and then you’d ask him to leave. Right? Right. 

But then you opened the door. And there he was, in a fresh suit. His hair was a fluffy, curly mess. He smelt amazing. And that soft, puppy dog look in his blue-green eyes. 

“Hi princess,” He said, already walking in and shutting the door behind him, “I’ve missed you.” 

Your walls came crashing down instantly. You had your arms around him before you even realised it. Your face pushed into the crook of his neck as you shed a few tears and inhaled his familiar scent. Body wash and cologne. 

“I was so scared I would never see you again.” You found yourself mumbling against his skin as he backed you into the closest wall. 

He laughed as you pulled away to wipe your tears, “Babygirl,” He cooed, “You know that would never happen.” He cupped your teary face in his large hands and smiled at you. “Were you worried for me? Hmm?” 

You nodded. He chuckled, leaning in to kiss you. Soft lips against yours, you melted into him. Your back against the wall, your fingers tangled in his hair while he moaned shamelessly into the kiss… playfully biting your lips. 

“I’ve missed you so much, princess.” His hands wandered, undoing the knot at the front of your robe. He let out a strained groan when he finally felt your warm skin. He whispered between messy, hungry kisses, “Daddy missed you so much.” 

He pulled away to look at you. You couldn’t help but notice the way his lips were now fuller. Fuck, he was your weakness. 

“Missed this mouth,” He whispered while tracing your lips with the tip of his finger. His mere touch was driving you insane. So much so that you dropped down to your knees even before he asked you to. 

Lando looked down at you with pride in his eyes and a devilishly handsome smirk on his face. “That’s my good girl,” He said breathlessly, caressing your cheek gently as he watched you undo his zipper and pull down his briefs. 

His cock stood proud and tall in front of you. Your mouth watered shamelessly at the sight of it. Thick and big, you realised you’d missed him just as much. Your hands instinctively wrapped around his length and you placed the tip against your lips, kissing it and feeling the pre cum coating your lips. 

Lando hissed in pleasure as you pushed him into your mouth, taking in the tip and swirling your tongue around him. 

“I missed your fucking mouth, babygirl…” 

He whispered your name under his breath, his hand holding your head and guiding you up and down his cock. His taste drove you crazy. As did the sounds which left his mouth.

You intended on making him come hard and fast. 

“Fuck…,” He moaned again, right before coming undone all over your tongue. “You did so good, princess.” 

You looked up at him, still kneeling on the cold floor. You’d missed this too. 

“Stand up,” He ordered. And when you did, he leaned in to kiss you again. Rougher this time, more demanding as he pulled you away from the wall and guided you over to your living room. He grabbed your face gently by the chin and said, “Can you go make daddy a drink, princess?” 

You nodded immediately. Lando smiled, kissing you briefly on the lips before smacking you gently on the butt as you walked over to the mini bar to make him a drink. You watched him the whole time you poured his whiskey in a glass. 

You watched how he got rid of his suit jacket, unbuttoned his white shirt and plopped down on the couch. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a moment. He looked like he was at peace. So much so that you almost hesitated before you gently touched his face to get his attention. 

Lando smiled at you as he took the glass from you first, then pulled you onto his lap. Palms gently caressing his smooth chest, you admired your man. His beard seemed coarse you realised as you stroked his cheek. You wondered whether it would feel rougher in between your thighs. 

Judging by the smirk on his face, Lando thought of the same thing as he sipped on his drink. And his hooded eyes silently promised you ‘later’. His free hand rubbed up and down your exposed thigh, until he reached in between your legs. 

He shamelessly watched how his fingers softly rubbed your throbbing clit. You whimpered softly, grinding against his hand on his lap. 

“Who took care of you while I was away?” He asked. 

You knew what he meant. Jealous, territorial, over protective man that he was. 

“No one,” You answered, whining as he slid a finger inside you.

He swallowed all of the whiskey and leaned in to kiss you again. He kissed down your neck, and all while slowly fingerfucking you he whispered along your collar bones, “If I find out someone touched you while I was gone I’m gonna do terrible,” He licked and bit your skin mid-sentence, “horrible things to them.” He left marks on your skin, marking his territory. “And I’ll make you watch.” 

You couldn’t help the unexpected giggle that escaped your lips. “No one touched me,” You assured him. “I took care of myself.” You added. 

Lando pulled away from your skin smirking like the handsome devil he was. “Yeah?” He insisted, “Show me how.” 

You gave him a shy smile. 

“Come on,” He said. “Show me how you touched yourself while I was away.” 

So you gave him a little show. Still on his lap as you touched yourself, like you did almost every night when he was gone. Even when you were angry at him, nothing else got you off like the memories of the moments you both spent under the covers.

Lando leaned back for a minute, his hands lazily rubbing up and down your thighs while he carefully followed your finger as it dipped in and out of your wet hole. His eyebrows furrowed everytime you moaned or let out a wanton gasp. 

He grabbed your thighs tightly each time he had to hold back from shoving your hands away to touch you. His shameless stare urged you to keep going. Lando was almost just as breathless as you were when you brought yourself to the edge, slowing down and not wanting to come just yet. 

“Please…” You murmured, removing your hand away and looking into his dangerously pretty eyes. “Please,” You begged again

He looked up at you and smirked. He knew what you wanted. You wanted him to make you come. His smug grin widened before he taunted, “Aww what is it, princess? Your fingers don’t feel as good as daddy’s?” He cooed, “Hmm? You want daddy to make you come, don’t you?” 

You nodded quickly. Lando just smirked and shook his head. Then before you knew it, you were being pushed down onto the couch. You laid on your back while he hovered above you. You could feel the metal chain around his neck just barely brushing against your chest. 

“It’s okay, babygirl.” He whispered, his face inches above yours. “Daddy’s here now.” He said before leaning in to kiss your lips. His tongue gently stroking your lower lip, then his mouth trailed downwards, kissing your neck, your collar bones down to your breasts, licking and kissing and leaving behind his marks on your skin.

Your body felt hot. Burning under him as he took his time and kissed every inch of your skin. “Missed you,” he whispered as he pressed kisses down your chest. 

Within seconds his fingers found their way in between your legs again, carefully parting your wet folds before slipping inside you. 

He asked, “Do your fingers feel this good, princess?” Lando leaned in again, and kissed along your jaw while his fingers stroked you gently. “I bet they don’t.” 

You whined and squirmed and you wanted more. You threw your head back and whined loudly, you felt your walls clench around his fingers. 

He smirked, feeling it too. “Oh? You wanna cum, is that it?” he leaned in closer, whispering against your mouth, “You want it so bad, don’t you princess?” he teased, chuckling darkly.

You moaned, and whined and tried your hardest to keep quiet but you ended up being loud anyways. His touch, his stare, his words… “Look at you,” he whispered, kissing and biting down on your skin occasionally as his fingers took you higher. “So perfect for daddy.” 

He bit down on your neck as you squirmed, moaning shamelessly. 

“Come for me, babygirl.” 

You did. Welcoming the sweet pressure in between your legs and you came with a loud cry all over his fingers, coating them with your arousal and making him hiss and swear at the sight of you so beautifully dishevelled. 

He had missed this indeed. 

“You’re all mine,” Lando said. 

You were still recovering from your previous orgasm that you didn’t realise his mouth was on you again, the lower half of his face completely submerged in between your legs, which were on each of his shoulders as his tongue tasting you shamelessly, eagerly. 

“Fuck,” He moaned against your wetness. The sound of it making you shiver. 

His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance, occasionally flicking your sensitive clit mercilessly. Your hands immediately gripped his messy, curly hair and tugged gently at his roots. 

“You taste so good, princess.”

You whimpered under his touch, feeling his faintly rough stubble rubbing against your soft skin. It burned a little, but you enjoyed each and every second of it and craved for more. His mouth felt good. 

“Fuck… Lando,” You moaned out loud as your back arched off the couch for just a moment, your eyes closing and your head leaning back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you. 

“You’re gonna cum for me, is that it, hmm?” He whispered and got back to teasing your clit with his warm and wet tongue, relishing your taste.

“Please, please….” You murmured. He chuckled, his warm breath fanning your wet folds.

“Come on, ask nicely.” He whispered, biting down on your hip bone before kissing his way back to your clit.

“Please daddy,” You whined, looking at him with pleading eyes. “Please, can I come?” 

His smirk meant that he was satisfied. “Of course you can, princess.” He murmured. “Come all over daddy’s tongue.” 

Lando got back to eating you out like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do. The pressure in between your legs was building up nicely. So with a few more strokes of his tongue, you let go and came all over his face. 

The waves of pleasure which washed over you were so intense that you teared up as you came, grinding your hips against his waiting mouth. And Lando lapped up whatever you gave him. He couldn’t get enough. 

When he finally pulled away to let you breath for a moment, he kissed your thighs, admiring the pretty mess that you were. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, princess,” he whispered, looking down at you. “All mine.” He had that feral look in his eyes. Shameless, and raw. Passionate, and unrestrained. He wanted you and he wasn’t hiding it. “Get on your hands and knees.” He ordered. 

You did as he asked. You knelt on the couch, holding onto the back while he stood behind you surely admiring your ass as your back faced him. 

Lando trailed a finger lazily up your spine before sliding his fingers around your neck. He gripped your throat gently, and tightened his grip just enough so he got your full attention. His lips hovered over the side of your throat and his other hand reached around and toyed with your clit, his fingers making you tremble.

You could feel his erection pressing against your butt. And your heart raced in anticipation.

“Daddy missed this pussy, princess.” He whispered into your ear, his fingers teasing your clit until you were embarrassingly wet for him. “I know you missed daddy’s cock, didn’t you? Hmm?” 

You whined in response as his tongue licked along your neck. 

His hand gripped your throat, eliciting a loud moan out of you. “Answer me, babygirl.” He said. “Use your words and tell daddy you want his cock.” 

His fingers left your clit as he undid his trousers again, grabbed you by the hips and aligned his cock to your entrance. Pushing against it just enough to make you lose your mind but not enough. 

Damn him. He knew just what to do. How to play you to get you to do exactly what he wanted. You pushed back against him, desperately craving friction, as you whimpered, “Please daddy, I want your cock. Please…” 

He chuckled. “There’s my good girl.” He praised and gripped the sides of your hips tighter. He pushed into you with ease, earning a sinful moan out of you. 

Lando groaned as he filled you up entirely, your ass cheek pressing into his pelvic bone as he buried his cock into you. Your knuckles gripped the back of the couch tightly as you felt the familiar pressure forming again in no time, given you were already so sensitive and sore from before.

You were barely able to think straight. You’d missed him. You’d missed this way too much. Having him right now gave you a high you did not quite comprehend but you were grateful for it. 

“So fucking good… princess…” Lando spoke in a haze, and you barely heard him as the only thing you focused on was how good he felt, sliding in and out of you. His cock stretching you out each time he fit it snugly inside you. 

He felt it too. He relished the sounds your bodies made together. The careless moans he earned out of you, how wet and ready you were for him. How perfectly you clenched around his cock. Your soft, often loud, whimpers and his groans of pleasure. 

“I dreamt of this perfect, warm pussy the whole time I was locked up in there, you know that, princess?” Lando pounded into you like his life depended on it. Stretching you out and filling you up each time he rammed his cock into your entrance. 

You could feel the soreness his touch would leave behind, and you didn’t care. But fuck… his dirty mouth only made him hotter. 

“The only that kept me going was knowing that I’d come home to you and fuck you like this,” He whispered, and you felt his cock throb against your walls. You tightened around him, feeling your orgasm so close that you almost shed tears again. 

Lando kept mumbling in the throes of pleasure, “Like you were made for me, for this cock…” He trailed off, moaning in that boyish way that only made you want to come harder. “It’s all you’re good for, isn’t it, babygirl? Hmm?” 

Right there… you were tight on the edge, ready to let go…

But just as you were, he pulled out and flipped you around. You were on your back again, looking up at him. His roughness only turning you on even more. 

He smirked when he saw that look of uncontained desire on your face. “Not so easily, princess.” He chuckled. “Daddy spent all this time away from you. So it’s only fair that now you beg for my cock.” He parted your legs, and settled in between them again, his cock slipping inside you once again. “Beg for me.”

When he saw that you didn’t, his fingers wrapped around your throat once more. “I said,” he growled, “beg.”

Your lips parted as you gasped, giving in. You’d do anything for him you realised. 

 “Daddy please… please make me cum…” you whined, “I missed you so much, I need you-,” you cut yourself off, moaning wantonly as he began fucking you hard and fast again.

He grunted and moaned shamelessly right in your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. Your legs started to shake as he quickened his pace. He pounded into you incessantly. 

You stared into his eyes, tears escaping your eyes, lips swollen and bruised, neck littered with his bite marks, and your eyes just as wild and passionate as his. His messy hair, that dangerous way of his, his reckless nature, that annoying arrogance, his pride was his fatal flaw and yet… Oh fuck you loved him. 

Lando smirked, leaning in to whisper against your mouth, “Daddy loves you more, princess.” 

Well, guess you said it out loud then. 

“You belong to me, don’t you? Hmm?”

“Yes.” You gasped. “Please, daddy can I-” 

The pleasure was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you came all around his cock, moaning and squirming. Your fingers scratching his neck, your arms holding him tight like he was your lifeline. He was, in more ways than one. 

Lando moaned out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him. His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you, filling you up again. “Fuck,” He groaned, his voice a little hoarser. “Fuck, princess.” He sighed, putting his whole body weight onto you for a moment. He nuzzled your neck and left soft kisses along your skin. 

You let him rest for a moment, mindlessly playing with his hair. You almost laughed thinking about how your initial plan was to kick him out of your life, forever. But deep down you knew, you could never get rid of Lando. 

No matter how corrupted, dark, and wicked he was. No matter how possessive, jealous, and insane he could be, almost childishly so. Despite it all, he had you by your heart, and there was no getting away from him.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando norris #lando norris x you #mob!lando #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 au

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You stand behind the counter, ready to serve the next customer that comes through the door. If you thought the rush was bad, the lulls are worse. The time drags by as the clock seems to taunt you. You sigh again as you hear Bre clattering around in the back room. You’d rather be back there folding up empty boxes and scouring trays.

You yawn and waver on your feet. The small local cafe doesn’t have the consistent traffic of the franchised kiosk just down the block but there are still hectic rushes. The mornings just after nine, then at noon when the office workers run out for a refresh espresso or a lunchtime sweet, but the afternoons usually deliver no more than the errant college student on their laptop or a few friends in between visits to boutiques.

The door opens and you glance over at the man who walks through the door. He strikes you as out-of-place as he struts across the cafe, hitting a table with his thigh, and sneering at it as if it insulted his mother. He’s tall with broad shoulders, and his hair is slicked back while the sides of his head are buzzed. He wears a black turtle neck under and open jacket and a pair of matching slacks that show off his ankles. His loafers are a rippling grey and black snakeskin print with a shining silver buckle.

You grip the sides of the till as he approaches but he doesn’t look at you. You stare, a little put off by his lack of acknowledgement as he peers up at the menu. He steps forward, tapping his fingers on the counter as he blows out between his lips. A golden signet ring flashes on his pinkie. You’re still not sure he’s in the right place.

“Hello, sir, can I get you--”

“Shh,” he hisses and holds up his finger. You snap your mouth shut and blink. He squints at the menu. He hums, clucking as he gives a thoughtful look to the hand-painted letters. Alright?

You wiggle your foot impatiently, biting your tongue. You’re not an inherently rude person but some customers make you wish you were. You watch him and he finally lowers his chin.

“Oat latte. Half blonde espresso, half regular, with the toffee nut syrup and a sprinkle of cinnamon.”

You nod as you punch in his order. It’s quite the drink. Sometimes you think people just pile on to see how far they can push service workers. They can’t just have a simple drink. Some even request the temperature to the digit.

“Alright, got it, it’s fifty cents for the syrup, is that okay?”

“Fifty cents?” He echoes haughtily, “no, that’s not okay.”

“Um, okay, well, it’s uh, on the menu,” you crane to look behind you, “fifty cents for a flavour shot, twenty-five for whipped cream.”

“I didn’t ask about goddamn whipped cream. They don't charge me here, doll. Get me the goddamn drink,” he demands.

You reel. Admittedly, you’re new. You’re learning but your first lesson was simple; customers are awful.

“I can just take the syrup off, I guess,” you hit the x and the whole order disappears.

“Didn’t you hear me? No charge, honey. It’s on the house.”

You purse your lips and look at him. You raise a brow. Alright, this is a new one.

“Um, if you’d just hold on, I think... uh, I should ask--”

“Yeah, you better fucking ask,” he sneers as swipes at a stack of paper cups and sends them flying. You flinch out of the way and spin to burst through the door to the kitchen.

“Uh, Bre,” you say, “there’s a really angry dude out there and he wants a free latte so uh, what do I do about that?”

She looks over at you as she puts a tray of cookies on a cooling rack. She frowns and her forehead stitches. She pulls of her oven mitt and checks her fitbit.

“Shit, it’s Thursday,” she mutters as if it’s the end of time.

“Yeah, it is, so uh--”

She waves away your words with the mitt and tosses both on the counter as she hurries past you. Confused, you turn to follow her through the swinging door. You stay behind her as she goes to the till.

“Mr. Hansen, so lovely to see you, what were we getting today?” She chimes, more lively than you’ve ever heard you. At any other time, she’s dulcet, almost monotone, completely over the cafe lifestyle.

He scoffs and his eyes drift from her to you. He pokes his tongue into his cheek, “oat, toffee nut, half blond, half regular, cinnamon on top,” he notes each element tersely, “and how about you teach this one some goddamn manners.”

He glares at you and you give a wide-eyed look. You shrug at Bre as she glances over at you. She shakes her head subtly. You take a step back.

You grab a cup and she quickly takes it out of your hands, “I got it, stay out of the way.”

You put your hands up and back away. You don’t know what you did wrong. Who is this man? He smirks and hovers on the other side of the counter as he crosses his arms over his puffed chest. Bre brews a fresh espresso and steams the oat milk.

“I’m waiting, sweet lips,” he cups a hand to his ear, his other arm still over his chest.

You look back and forth.

“Apologise,” he demands.

Bre clears her throat and you glance over, your mouth falling open dumbly.

“Oh, uh,” you face the man again, “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know--”

“Well, now you fucking do,” he sneers as Bre places a cup down before him and a paper bag.

“Mr. Hansen, there’s a cinnamon bun for you too. We just took em out of the oven.”

“You’re such a dear, Bre Bear,” he cooes, sending you a venomous snarl.

You cringe as he spins and strides out with his fare. You watch after him, still thoroughly perplexed. Bre wipes the counter with a cloth.

“The next time he comes in, give him whatever he wants,” she says quietly.

“Oh, I didn’t... who is he?” You garble.

“Better you don’t know. Just think of him as the boss,” she sends you a desperate look, her eyes gleaming, “if you know what’s good for you, you’ll smile and listen.”

She brushes you with her shoulder as she goes back into the kitchen. You furrow your brow and glance towards the door. The man’s just outside the windowed walls, watching you. He winks before he disappears beyond the next facade

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #series #drabble #the man #mob!au #au

[ruskaroma]

ordinary, corrupt human love. | chapter 1: written in blood.

Warnings: this series will include highly disturbing/dark topics such as stalking, unhealthy obsession, graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, manipulation, gaslighting, large age gap, emotional/psychological abuse, dom/sub undertones, bad BDSM etiquette, etc.

this is a dark fic, written in john's pov and a glimpse of how his mind works. if you still continue to read and get triggered, that is not my responsibility.

Summary: John finds himself a new obsession.

Author's note: this is my first ever fanfic for this fandom and i am beyond excited to share this with you guys! though i must say before you begin, english is not my first language and there might be a few errors in my writing here and there, so i apologize in advance.

but either way, i still hope you enjoy this piece, and i can assure you that once i finish writing this series there will be more to come! i really enjoy writing john wick be a merciless bastard who kills everything that breathes, and i hope you enjoy it too as much as i did.

please, please, PLEASE tell me what you think in the comment and reblogs and likes would be so appreciated. it motivates me to write even more :)

(also this is not edited so all mistakes are on me and i apologize)

Word count: 8.1k

also read on ao3.

It’s one of those days again.

The sound of his watch ticking is the only thing keeping his car from being too quiet. His eyes watch every single movement of his target, never leaving his sight. It won’t be too long for John to finally strike, he just doesn’t want too many civilians seeing the horror that’s about to happen right before their very eyes.

His mind is thinking of many things he could do with this target in particular. A lowlife thug that got himself involved with a very dangerous Italian mob, but then again that’s not the reason why John’s murderous intent is at its peak at the moment.

He’s angry at something, he just doesn’t know what. And this target of his isn’t helping his situation at all. Reading his criminal record made John think this could be a chance to cure his boredom. This man is not only a sex trafficker, but also a pedophile who has a history of targeting teenagers to rape and sell to the black market that’s as fucked up as him.

He doesn’t normally take his time thinking of ways to kill his targets. He points, shoots, leaves. This one in particular though, got him facing a side of him that John himself doesn’t want to face.

He would start by breaking every single one of the man’s fingers. And if that doesn’t do any justice, he’ll cut them off.

One by one, let the man savor the feeling, let John relish the nightmare.

He could slit the man’s throat, watch as life drains away from his body, watch as the man clings to his legs for mercy. John could even pull out the man’s dick, step on it, fucking cut it off and shove it so far down his own throat that he couldn’t scream for help if he tried.

It’s John’s version of Colombian Necktie. A classic, only ever tried it out four times, hopefully this would be the fifth.

John is never the one to take pleasure in killing people, but these past few months have proved him otherwise.

Maybe it’s because of Helen’s death, and the way he was basically forced to sculpt the demons he buried back into himself. His only remaining bit of humanity was taken from him, and he’s coping in the most unhealthy way possible. Perhaps Winston was right about dipping his pinky a little too much into the pond, but it was inevitable.

John has gone back to his old ways. Taking contracts here and there to distract himself from the void in his heart. He remembers how burying a knife into someone’s throat for the first time in many years has ignited something in him he didn’t even know he had.

That’s why he’s here, exiting his car in a swift move, following his target as quietly as possible into a narrow alleyway that stinks of garbage in piss. This would be a nice place to kill a guy like him – right where he belongs.

John’s movements are so discreet the man couldn’t even sense him until John wrapped his right arm around his neck and his other hand went to cover the man’s mouth. He walks them both to the back of a building as the man struggles, where John’s sure no more people are present, and he kicks him on the jaw to stop the man from making any more noises.

John can make this quick. Pull out his gun and blow his brains out. But there’s that sinister glint in his mind that’s telling him to do something unimaginable – grotesque even – a death a man like him deserves.

The man tries to swing his arm at John but misses pathetically. The poor guy’s already shaking and John hasn’t even begun.

John doesn’t respond to the pitiful attempts of questioning who he is and who sent him here, he simply pulls his knife from his pocket and wastes no time slashing it against the man’s throat, the blood spraying all over his face. The man tries to stop it by shakily covering the deep cut with his hand, but it’s useless.

He’s gargling, choking on his own blood, and John’s watching it all unravel with a familiar glint in his eyes.

John is contemplating if he should follow the plan he made in his head or just leave it like this. Somehow, the sight looks rather incomplete to him. He knows what he’s done is not enough, but that could be just the rage talking. The man’s already dead, and surely cutting off his dick and shoving it so far down his throat it comes out of the wound would leave an ugly reputation on his name. 

Would that be a good thing? John is already feared enough, would it be a good thing to make people fear him even more? But then again, this won’t be the first time he’s done it. Doing it again one more time wouldn’t make any difference.

He glances down at the dead body on his feet before he kneels down to do the unforgivable.

Slicing off a man’s cock is easy. Too easy. John’s knife is perfectly sharpened and stoned, he merely uses any strength to cut it off. The sight is so fucking ugly, too much blood, but nothing he can’t handle.

Once that’s done, John uses his other hand to force the dead man’s jaw open, immediately greeted by the foul stench of blood as he shoves the unpleasant dick into the man’s open mouth. The genitalia is definitely not long enough to reach the throat, but that won’t be any problem for John.

He grits his teeth as he forces his hand in there, not bothering to care even if the jaw breaks and the hole becomes even wider, his goal is the only thing in his mind.

The blood continues to drip and he has never been so grateful for wearing an all black uniform for this occasion. Soon enough, after a few minutes of such a brutal wrongdoing, John sees the tip of the cock reaching the deep wound on the man’s throat as it continues to peak its way out.

A sick, small smile spreads across John’s face. The smile is barely there, but he’s fucking enjoying this more than he’d like to admit. He can only imagine how the news would spread across the assassin underworld like a wildfire.

The Boogeyman’s back in business and he’s scarier than ever.

Perhaps this might be the way to lay his point across. This is a way to show them that it was not a good idea pissing him off, killing what’s his, and bringing him back in business. They’d regret it, but it would be already too late for that.

John uses his other hand to pull the cock right out of the man’s throat but not completely. Half of it is hanging out and John thinks he could even consider this as a masterpiece. There’d be flies and maggots that would make the scenery better, but the cleaning service is there for a reason. He can’t just not use it.

John stands up from his position, pocketing his knife back into his pocket before retrieving his phone with the other. He dials a number, waits for them to pick up, all while admiring his work on the ground.

His previous contracts these past few months all ended in such an unimaginable, ugly way. He figured that by showing them that he’s capable of such brutality, it would increase the numbers of people calling him in for more jobs, because this is exactly what they wanted. They wanted Baba Yaga, the ruthless killer of the underworld who stops at nothing to finish his job, and he’s simply giving it to them.

Someone picks up the call and he straightens his posture, checking the time on his watch before speaking.

“This is Wick. John Wick, yes. I would like to make a dinner reservation for one.”

The news spread faster than anticipated.

The notorious man John Wick, the hot topic of the criminal underworld at the moment, even gained the attention of The High Table, and it all happened in the span of one day. That’s how quick the news spread amongst his fellow assassins, though that’s exactly what he was going for.

John expected it so he isn’t surprised when he receives a call from Charon saying Winston wants to meet him.

He inserts a coin in the door and the small window opened briefly. The guy on the other side immediately recognized him, not wasting a single moment to open the door and let the man of the hour in. All eyes are on him the moment he steps into the club, but no one dared to murmur anything to anybody – not when the man himself is here.

They know better.

John spots Winston at his usual spot drinking his usual order, signaling John to sit beside him where a glass of bourbon is already present. 

“Jonathan,” Winston greets, raising his glass. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“I figured,” John replies, though not interested. He slides himself to the booth and takes a sip of his own drink. “I don’t understand why though.”

“Are we really playing this game, Jonathan?” The manager raises a brow. 

“I was just doing my job.”

“In a way you don’t normally do,” Winston then adds. “Or should I say, in a way you don’t even do.”

John gives him a look, but he could tell Winston doesn’t know how to interpret it. His face remains emotionless, not letting the mask slip and grant Winston the privilege to take a peak. John will continue to play this game until he’s satisfied, until he feels something again. Surely he’ll find what he’s looking for while doing the only thing he’s ever good at – slaughtering.

“Let’s just say I was trying out a new technique,” John says, voice deep and almost sinister. Winston’s scared, though he doesn’t show it, John knows. 

“I have known you ever since you started, Jonathan. Not once did it cross my mind you would do something so.. horrifying as this. You discarded the body like he was some sort of pig, so believe me when I say I couldn’t believe it at first.”

John has no idea why Winston’s whining about him being horrifying, when that’s all they’ve been saying about him ever since he joined. He didn’t gain this reputation for no reason, now he’s just simply showing them what more he’s capable of.

“You should’ve seen his record.” His tone is menacing, swirling the drink in his hand as he stares deeply at Winston’s eyes. “He’s worse than a pig.”

The drop of the curse word takes Winston by surprise. “So is that what it is, then? You killed him that way because you think he deserved it?”

“Not really,” John simply sighs, leaning back on the leather seat as he takes another sip of his bourbon. He really isn’t planning on staying longer, but Winston seems to be taking his sweet time asking him a bunch of stupid questions. “I couldn’t care less of what he’s done. I was simply… bored. Saying that I did that because I think he deserved it gives people a reason to think that what I did was justifiable.”

The look on Winston’s face says enough. He’s afraid of John, afraid of what he has become. Hearing John say he did such an unforgiving thing just because he was bored is beyond frightening. No man has ever inflicted so much fear on him before – at least not until John.

“I think we’re done for tonight,” Winston finally says, not wanting to hear any more disturbing thoughts of John, but he remains polite and calm for the sake of their friendship. “You have a good night, Jonathan.”

John gives him a nod, standing up from his seat and downing his drink in one go. “Goodnight, Winston.”

He exits the club with an eerie aura following behind him, not caring about the way people are looking at him like he’s got Death himself walking beside him.

It makes him wonder that maybe death doesn’t follow him after all.

Maybe it is him.

Someone offered him five million to fuck up a man who allegedly stole a fuck ton of kilograms of cocaine from their warehouse, and really, who is John to decline the offer?

Hunting the man is easy. It didn’t even take a day to locate where the man lives, and John’s already breaking into his apartment to shoot the guy and leave. There’s no point in rummaging the place for the cocaine, all of it is already up the man’s system by the looks of it, and killing him is John’s job.

John wants to finish this one fast, he’s got other business to attend to. As he backs up the frightened, pathetic excuse for a man against the wall, he takes his gun out of his holster and aims directly at the head, right between the eyes, and he watches in great pleasure as the residue of his brains splatter against the walls and the floor.

This man didn’t even put up a fight. John thinks this is a waste of time.

He exits the apartment with disappointment heavy on his shoulders, slamming the door shut. Although the gun he used has a silencer, the rooms are too close to each other. He’s sure there might be other people who heard the shot of his firearm.

The apartment building is located at the filthy side of New York, where most known drug dealers and junkies do their nasty deals. It’s no surprise that as soon as John steps a foot out of the worn out building, all eyes are on him, but mainly on the clothes he’s wearing. They’re planning on mugging him out, and John would like to see them try.

Just as he’s about to walk to his car, his phone rings abruptly in his chest pocket. He retrieves it in one swift motion, not noticing that a gold coin fell out as he does so, and he continues walking to not waste any more time.

“Sir! Excuse me, sir, you dropped something!” John hears from behind. He doesn’t bother looking.

The call isn’t nearly as important as the business he needs to attend to, so he hangs up the call and pushes his phone back into his pocket. As soon as he does that, he feels a small hand touching his shoulder.

John’s hand immediately flies to wrap his large hand around the person’s wrist, turning around to see a young woman with a bewildered expression on her pretty face, little fingers holding his golden coin that looks far too big on her hand.

She looks scared, terrified, and oh how fucking awful that makes John feel. Like he’s been punched right in the fucking gut. He’s enthralled.

“I wasn’t–you dropped it and I’m just giving it to you, I promise!”

She’s looking at John with big, doe eyes. She also looks freshly showered, wrapped in a black puffy jacket that makes her even smaller than she already is. John lets his eyes linger on her lips, so plump and glossy. Her voice sounds sweet, soft, something John isn’t used to hearing.

John can’t help but to stare.

“Are you–are you gonna let me go, mister?”

The way she stutters triggers a hot feeling in John’s guts, and can’t help but to rub his thumb on the girl’s dainty wrist before slowly letting her go.

So delicate, he could snap them in half.

“Sorry,” John apologizes, taking the coin from her hold, and his fingers itch at the way her skin feels so soft against his rough hands. “Force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles a little, and there goes that hot curl in John’s stomach once again. “That thing looks expensive so be careful next time.”

Just like that, John doesn’t get the chance to reply back. She makes her leave and patters away from him, and he watches. He watches until she’s out of the view, taking a turn to a corner, leaving John with something he can’t quite figure out yet, but he soon will be.

For the first time in a while, he feels something new.

Suddenly, everything is too good to be true.

John will find himself staring at his hands for too long, still feeling the ghost of her soft skin on his fingers, fantasizing about her pretty face and soft, plump lips.

It’s scary for him to feel something again because that only means destruction. John likes to believe he has a gift of ruining everything he touches, especially the pure ones – like her. It’s a proven statement. Just look at Helen and Daisy.

This little one won’t be any different, he’s sure of it. John’s whole body is heating up everytime he thinks about her. The look on her face when she saw John’s chilling expression, her wide eyes, so glossy and innocent.

John wants to see her again.

His fingers itch, yearning to touch her again. 

Why he’s suddenly interested in a young woman he just met a few days ago, he has no idea. John’s a bit confusing – fucked up, even. He long accepted the fact that his mind is nowhere near healthy years ago. He tried to push those thoughts away when he met Helen, but now he’s out of his shell and back in business, there’s no need to.

He’s always been one of the wolves, and now that he’s laid his eyes on his next meal, he will make sure there’s not a single thing that will get in his way to hunt her down.

He had a crisis for two days before doing the unexpected. It didn’t take long for John to find her. 

Now, John has been following her around for a week, and he noticed a certain pattern his little one likes to follow as she goes on her day.

The very place where they met is where she lives, surrounded by a bunch of goons who have no idea what to do with their lives. John begins to wonder why she’s living in a place like that. He could take her, put her somewhere safe, under his care and protection. Make sure no one will dare to lay a finger on her.

John knows where she works. At a veterinary clinic not too far from her apartment, which is why she walks to work every three in the afternoon, but not without stopping by in her favorite deli and getting a large order of her favorite sandwich. She’s a part-timer. She’d be at school from seven to twelve, and at work from three to eight.

John finds the little things she does amusing. He’d be seated in a cafe right across from her work, watching how she moves around her office through a big window, petting and cooing at the animals who come and go.

She’s so perfect, so pure, so naive. She has no idea that a monster is lurking ten feet away from her, watching her every move like a hawk, thinking about the ways he could destroy her, make her his.

John is not delusional. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing and he’s aware of what people might call him. 

Stalker.

Creep.

They don’t know him though. They don’t know why he acts this way. They’d do the same if they were him, that’s for sure. He’s not the bad guy here, he’s simply just protecting her little one, even from afar. John went as far as destroying a whole Russian Bratva for a mere puppy and a car, he’d do even worse if she’s somehow taken away from him.

John sees her exiting the building and his first thought is to follow her. He stands up from his seat, the cup of coffee long forgotten as he makes his way out of the café and keeps a safe distance between the two of them. It’s risky, especially in the broad daylight, but John knows she’s too oblivious to notice.

She’s with her friends this time, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by John how she clings at the shirt of her co-worker as they cross the street, small hands fisting at the fabric. He thinks about how he won’t ever let go of her hand once she’s his. He’s not big on physical affection, having to grow up with no parents and a rather strict orphanage, but maybe he could be gentle. Engulf her hand in his, stroke it with his thumb, tuck her hair behind her ears, show everyone that she’s already owned.

They wouldn’t dare to lay their hands on her again.

John walks in the middle of the sidewalk, not bothering to move away despite seeing people approaching. He doesn’t need to, the look in his face is enough for people to give him the way. It’s interrupted however, when someone does try to get in his way, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back a little.

John clenches his jaw, pissed. He takes his eyes from his little one and on the person who so rudely interrupted what he’s doing – it’s Marcus.

“John? I was just looking for you at the Continental.” Marcus has a small smile on his face, clearly not aware of John’s expression.

His eyes dart behind Marcus, where his little one is supposed to be, but she’s gone. John feels something curl in his stomach, his fingers itching again, eyes rapidly searching for her in the sea of people.

He looks at Marcus again, deciding he’ll just find her later, but he worries that something might happen to her now that John’s attention isn’t on her.

“Why?” he almost snaps, voice deep and laced with no emotion.

“Why? Because it’s been quite some time, John. I haven’t heard from you since the Iosef situation, but I did hear you’re back in business,” Marcus replies, but when he sees how distracted John looks, his voice falters. “You working?”

“Yeah.” The lie comes off smoothly. “I’ll see you around.”

John taps Marcus’ shoulder, trying to sound as polite as possible even though he badly wants to break a couple of his teeth for taking his attention away from her. He knows Marcus is probably noticing something, but John’s never the one to care.

Marcus drops the subject. “Alright, John. I’ll see you around.”

With that, John disappears in the crowd with no looking back.

It’s been awhile since John last took a job.

He can’t seem to take his eyes away from his little one. He can’t stop fucking stalking her from morning to night time.

John’s afraid that once he takes his attention from her even for a second, something bad might happen to her. It’s engraved in his mind that she can’t protect herself and he’s solely there to be the protector.

No one would understand. He’s doing this for her own good.

John’s absence at the Continental doesn’t go unnoticed by Winston and Charon. They’re his favorite, after all. Watch his every move carefully ever since that ugly murder John did. Perhaps he could make his next kill even uglier. To them, it’s vile and grotesque. For John, it’s special and unique.

This time, it took a good self-beating before John decided to take a contract. Three million to hunt down a rival crime lord, nothing he can’t handle, but somehow it brings an unusual feeling on his shoulder he isn’t fond of. Perhaps because John’s leaving his little one for a while and he isn’t quite sure what to feel. Worried and pissed – but mostly worried.

That is why he hired someone to trail his little one on his behalf. Everyone in business would do anything for a coin despite how fucked up disturbing it is. John offered a generous amount of coins to keep the assassin’s mouth shut, but he also held him at gunpoint and gave him a good talk before he sent the dog out in the field.

His only job is to keep an eye on her, report everything he’ll see to John, and maybe even take pictures for safety purposes.

John has been overseas in the last three days, and everything that’s been sent to him has been his only form of entertainment. There’s videos of her giggling with her friends, videos and photos of her in the library, outside her school, her work, and even in her apartment. There’s also information sent to him about the background of her friends – every single one of them, because John didn’t pay so much for nothing.

There’s one particular friend that ticks off John in all the worst way possible. He’s young, around her age, and the way he hugs and touches her just fucking sets him off. John wants to break his fingers in half. He reminds himself that once he’s home, he’ll make sure to take care of that boy himself.

“What else have you got?” John questions through the phone, and it doesn’t take long for his precious dog to respond.

“Oh, he is one creepy motherfucker. I’m starting to understand why you’re so riled up with this guy, boss. The urge to strangle him every time he gets in the picture gets stronger and stronger everyday.” He hears a laugh at the other end. The guy that’s working for him – Alex, if he remembers correctly – is young, new in business, knows not to fuck with John so he keeps his job adequate. If Alex ever notice how fucked up John is for making him follow a young woman to keep his life in order, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Just tell me when I can shoot this guy and I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

“Leave him. Keep an eye on him, but don’t kill him,” John advises, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “I’ll handle him myself when I get back. For the meantime, focus on Y/N and keep any troubles out of her way. Fail that task and I’d serve your head hot on a platter.”

“You got it, boss.”

John is playing nicely.

He’s not going to force his way into her life. He’s gonna be welcomed, with open arms, desired.

There are times he’d thought about giving in to his desperation and act with his dick instead of his head. There are times he’d thought about following her to a dark street, where no one’s around, he’s on the prowl and ready to pounce. He’d put a fabric against her mouth and nose, laced with enough chemicals to make her pass out and for him to carry her in his car with no problems whatsoever. John thinks about how he’d make it look like he’s just picking up his very drunk and passed out girlfriend and no one would know a goddamn thing.

John would keep her in his house where she won’t need anything but him. 

But of course, he’s not that cruel.

They’re only thoughts. Thoughts that he tries hard to keep away, but at the end of the day he reminds himself that he’s better than that.

John is not going to force his way into her life.

He’ll make sure to get her addicted enough to come crawling at his feet herself. She’ll be dependent on him, won’t be able to live without him. John will make sure his plan will go out smoothly or otherwise he’ll be the one bringing Hell with him on this land and seek as much havoc as he possibly can.

The death emissary himself will strike tonight.

A Friday night out with her friends has John on high alert. That’ll only mean she’s constantly surrounded with people, god knows what could happen if John even takes his eyes off her for a second. He lurks on the side, blending himself with the crowd as much as he can all while keeping his gaze on her. 

He doesn’t need any drugs to keep his mind insane, because the sight of a specific man getting very close to what’s his is enough to make him visualize all the ugly and twisted ways to kill a man.

She’s wearing a thin silky dress that’s low on her cleavage and shows her perky breasts. She’s currently the flame in a room full of moths, John included. Everyone’s eyes are on her, observing the way she sways her hips and sings along to the loud music – John’s fingers itch.

The itch to kill is back again, driving into his veins, his hands twitch on the table. John wants to pull out his gun and shoot everyone in this fucking room. He wants to stab them in the eyes one by one and make them feed it to themselves. He wants to grab this guy on the neck and slam his head against the wall repeatedly until his brain scatter all over the fucking place and there’s nothing left for him to ruin.

This guy is getting on his fucking nerves.

John watches as the man smoothly brings his arm on her shoulder, whispering something in her ear that doesn’t make her look so impressed. In fact, she looks disturbed, uncomfortable, tense. Despite the guy being her friend, John could tell she doesn’t feel comfortable with the way he’s showing her affection.

It’s hard to see her like this, but he knows he can’t just jump in between the two of them and beat the shit out of the guy until he chokes on his own blood. He’ll have to wait, maybe after this party, he’ll strike and discard the body in a way that’ll make even Winston spook in his sleep. It’s not a major offense to kill a man that’s not in the game anyway – or at least that’s what John tells himself.

This guy wouldn’t be able to be three feet near his little one once John’s done with him. He’ll be six feet under.

John sees her swiftly moving away from his touch, trying to make her rejection look as polite as possible, which receives a not-so-amused reaction from her little friend.

This guy doesn’t deserve her at all. No one does. Except maybe John, but that’s because he knows he’s capable of actually taking care of her and keeping her safe. Nobody would understand what he feels, what he yearns, what he wants.

Good girl, John thinks. Walk away.

His gaze follow her as she makes her way to the backdoor and out to the cold air of the city. John follows in a hurry, keeping a safe distance between the two of them, then opens the door as quietly as possible so he wouldn’t let his presence known.

There are a few people on the street, either having a smoke break or making out against the piss stained wall, but she stays just beside the busy road as she wraps her arms around herself.

His gaze burn daggers on her exposed back, the urge to cover her up with his jacket and take her home. A drunk man comes stumbling out of the club, accidentally tripping over his steps and he pushes her hard enough to make her yelp as her heels lose balance and almost making herself get run over by a passing truck.

Almost.

Everything happens so fast. One moment John is standing five feet from her, the next is he’s grasping her wrists in his hand and pulling her back to her feet and dragging her back to the curb. He was already on the act once he saw the man exiting the club, he knew exactly this would happen.

The scene looks strangely familiar, one John could never forget. The same position, same hand placement, same rough fingers around her wrist and dark eyes boring into hers – their very first meeting.

“You!” she gasps, not caring about the fact that she almost just got hit by a fucking truck. “I know you! You’re the guy outside my apartment that day! What are you doing here?”

John stares. Predictable. Of course she’s talking to him like they’ve known each other for years. She’s too friendly.

“Hello to you too,” John replies, though his tone is blank as well as his face. “You remember me.”

“‘Course I do,” she giggles, a little tipsy, pupils dilated and licking her lips nervously. “You’re pretty hard to forget. I remember asking my neighbors around the area if you’re new there, turns out you were just visiting.”

John furrows his brows, hand still not letting go of her wrist. What does she mean by she’s asked around the area about him?

His face must’ve looked confused, he sees her grinning childishly. “It’s a coincidence that I see you again!”

Not a coincidence, but fate.

John doesn’t believe in a lot of things, but he believes in fate. Fate brought him Helen, and now fate is bringing him another angel. If she really went as far as asking the neighborhood about his existence, then it must be fate.

“I’m Y/N. I figured if we keep bumping into each other then you should at least know my name,” she says, completely oblivious that John already knows everything that has to be known about her. From her little mannerisms to the last name of her fucking grandmother. “May I know yours or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“It’s John,” he gulps, not wanting to look like a loser in front of her, not after everything he went through for her. “It’s really nice to see you again.”

He sucks at this. He fucking sucks at this.

“You haven’t answered my question, by the way. What brings you here?”

It hangs in the air, John lets go of her wrist. Luckily, he thinks fast enough and says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Work.”

“Ah, work,” she nods. “You work here? In the club? What are you, a bouncer or something?”

“I don’t. Someone I work with is in the club.” A lie, but it’s not like she would know. “We had a talk.”

“Not really a man of words, eh?” she raises an eyebrow teasingly. 

“This is the most words I’ve said in the past few days,” John says. “I’d say you’re special.”

The look on her face is enough to make his entire night even better. Blushing, lips opening and closing, not knowing what to say. John wants to graze his thumb on her lips, thinking about how good it would feel stretching over his cock.

He blinks. Where did that come from?

“For someone who doesn’t talk much, you sure make it sound smooth when you do. Are you always this slick, John?” she giggles again, music to his ear. “That’s actually better than what I heard from my friend earlier, so thank you.”

“That’s good to know.”

Before she could say anything back, the door of the club opens once again and her friends appear, waving a hand at her and beckoning her to get inside. She looks at John, gives him a sympathetic look, as if apologizing that their talk gets cut off too soon.

“I’m really sorry but my friends want me back in there. Hopefully we can continue this again, yeah?” she smiles cheekily, tucking her hair behind her ear. “If you want, you could give me your number so we can talk someplace else? You know… with no one bothering us and all that.”

There it is. John didn’t think it would be this easy to sink the hook in. All he needs to do is pull and take what’s meant to be his.

“Sure.” He enters his number swiftly, feeling that familiar burn in his guts once again when he sees the wallpaper being her pretty face. “Feel free to message me whenever you want. I’ll make time for you.”

She looks at her phone and smiles before starting to walk away from him, waving a hand goodbye, but it doesn’t feel like a goodbye. John knows it isn’t. She’s already his the moment she started talking to him again.

“Of course! Get home safe, John! I’ll see you soon!” 

“You too.”

She doesn’t know John won’t be heading home any time soon until he knows she’s safe and sound in her apartment.

Jay Lopez.

The name burns on his tongue. Bitter and resentful. He stares at the photos his precious dog sent to him and he has to stop the impulse to burn every single one of them.

Jay Lopez is the guy that’s been leeching on his girl since the dawn of time, and thankfully John is here to put an end to it. 

He’s hideous. It’s interesting how John stooped this low that he’d be willing to kill a college student for being too near his little bambi, but alas, he’s never the one to care for such things. Morals and righteousness have never been in his book, not now, nor ever.

It’s only a matter of time until he gets rid of this pest. He’s fucking creepy, follows around not only Y/N but a bunch of other women. 

John doesn’t want his death to be quick and simple. He wants to do it in an ugly way, make sure his body will never be found, make sure he’ll never get to lay his hands and eyes on what’s his. The way Jay stares at her in these pictures ignites something evil within John’s veins. It’s been awhile since he felt something like this.

“Alex.” he looks at his pet standing by the door, waiting for the next command. “Bring him to me alive.”

“Can I at least rough him up a bit?”

John doesn’t answer at first, looks back at the photos on his table. “Do what you want, just make sure he’s still breathing when you bring him here.”

“On it, boss.”

Truth be told, John doesn’t need a pet to order around for this job. He has himself – a labeled attack dog of the Tarasovs for years, their hellhound, chained and muzzled unless they need him to kill. He’s a one man army as some would say, he doesn’t need Alex running around doing tasks for him, but it sure does make the job a lot faster.

It’s not a way to downgrade his reputation nor skills to hunt, he really just needs this Jay guy gone as fast as possible.

On the same day, Alex manages to haul a very brutally violated Jay to the floor of his basement. He stinks, pants wet from piss and a face John is having a hard time recognizing.

“You said rough him up a bit, not make him look unrecognizable.”

“Same thing.”

Jay is sobbing his eyes out, his cries of pleas falls to deaf ears and John just wants to fucking bash his skull with his own foot. “W-who are you guys?! What the f-fuck did I do?! Get me out of here or I’ll tell the fucking police–”

John kicks him on the chin hard to stop the goon from rambling. “You’re not telling anybody any shit, tough guy.”

“So, what are you planning to do to him? Can I watch?”

“Can you handle it?”

Alex shrugs. He’s in the presence of the most dangerous assassin in the underworld, wouldn’t hurt to learn anything from his skills and techniques, doesn’t matter how fucked up it is.

John nods towards the chainsaw sitting at the corner of the room, and Alex turns to face him with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ, man. You serious? Last time I heard you’re a hitman, not a serial killer.”

“Same qualifications. Same thing.” John grabs the man by the arm then drags him to a chair. He takes a rope from the table and swiftly ties him up securely. “We start with the head, then arms and legs. It would be hard to put his entire body in a drum full of acid, so we need to cut him off one by one.”

Alex looks like he’s about to run off somewhere safe from what he’s witnessing. “You’re talking like you’ve done this before, holy fuck.”

John gives him a look, and Alex immediately shuts his mouth. Right. He’d done this before. This is completely normal.

“I’ve been following you for a while, Jay. You’re a creep who befriends pretty girls, then you’ll drug them and make them have sex with you,” John taunts, the sound of his heels hitting the concrete floor is enough to send shivers down his spine. “Is that what you’re also planning to do with Y/N? Be her friend and fuck her once she’s drugged up and vulnerable?”

It’s a bold statement coming from John himself since he’s no better man than Jay, but at least his intentions come from a different place.

“You-you’re fucking sick!” Jay spits.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one going around making girls uncomfortable now, am I?” he picks up the chainsaw, then watches in enjoyment as Jay widens his eyes in fear. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, Jay. You won’t be able to use your pathetic little dick of yours to any woman ever again, and most importantly –”

John fires up the chainsaw, adrenaline coursing through his veins when he sees the horrified look in the man’s face as he tries to get up and scream for help.

“I can finally sleep well at night knowing you’re not in Y/N’s life anymore.”

As John steps into the light, a roaring chainsaw in his hands, Alex could only watch in horror as the basement gets painted with blood in mere seconds.

There’s a vacant apartment just across her room, giving John the perfect view of what she’s doing while she’s alone.

Most of the time, John will pull up a seat beside the window and take pictures. The other half of the time is just him staring, observing. It seems that she’s too comfortable knowing there’s no one across the building so she doesn’t close the curtains, leaving John no choice but to keep his eyes on her.

He found this place just three days after following her. He couldn’t help it. Following her to school and work suddenly wasn’t enough for John that he had to find a way to somehow watch her even in her sleep. 

He should be ashamed of himself. He should feel guilty for what he’s doing – he should stop, but he just can’t. John’s already done too much. This is like being pulled back into the underworld all over again but this time, there’s something good that’s waiting for him on the other side.

Maybe it’s the delusion that comes with it that’s not stopping John from whatever he’s doing. Lately, he’s been thinking about how life would turn out to be if his plan goes out smoothly. They’d live happily ever after, she would end up loving him just the way he planned it out to be, and John will make sure no one will ever dare to take those peace away from him again.

He’d make sure no one will ever come close to her again once she’s his. She’d be isolated but protected. Just how John likes it.

It’s been two days since John gave his number, but he knows she’s just giddy and nervous to text him. He’d seen her staring at her phone, biting her bottom lip anxiously, thinking if it would be a good idea or not. He knows she’ll give in one way or another because he sees it in her face. She’s too easy, too gullible, too naive.

She’s lonely, just like him.

John could tell she’s waiting for someone – she’s desperate, no wonder she asked for his number the second time they met. She wants someone to take care of her, to hold her, tell her that she deserves the world. That someone is John whether she likes it or not.

This isn’t just any unhealthy obsession. John finds himself too deep to get out. He knows her little mannerisms, studied her every action, has a red room full of her pictures and no one can’t say he’s not ready to give up anything for her. John has already given up his sanity ever since he mutilated a man for being too close to her.

She’s his life now, his everything.

John watches intensely as she shreds her clothes in her room, baring him the full view of herself naked, and John grips the side of his chair too hard his knuckles turn white. This is the first time he’d seen her naked, it’s so sudden and so… perfect.

His cock fattens in his pants as he observes every curve of her body. Her waist is fucking perfect and her body is thick yet delicate. John thinks about bruising her sensitive skin, leaving a mark that will show everyone that she’s owned. He would love to see her in a collar, hear it jingle when she crawls. 

She’s completely fucking naked that John wonder just how naive she is to think there would be no one seeing her like this. What if John isn’t the only one watching her? What if somebody else sees her like this? His fingers itch, jaw clenching.

He’d kill them. He’d kill them in front of her, and the thought somehow made his cock hard even more. He grimaces, disturbed at the reaction of his body.

John doesn’t really understand the sexual aspects of killing, but now he’s thinking about how she would react if she sees him working. He’d kill someone in front of her and he’d see the look of disgust and betrayal in her face. He can already imagine how her eyes would well up with tears and fuck, his dick shouldn’t be this hard.

She’d fear him, and John would be turned on. How fucked up would that be? Just how fucked up can his mind get?

He resists the urge to wrap his hand around his cock because fuck no. He would not stoop this low, he is not a teenage boy. No matter how strong the thoughts get, the thoughts of wrapping his own hand around her neck, squeezing it hard and cutting off her airflow as John forces his cock in her cunt, hearing her mewl and scream and beg to just –

John sucks in air, eyes back on her in her room, wrapping a robe around herself and heading to the bathroom. This is fucked up. His cock is incredibly hard and leaking, and his mind won’t stop thinking about how good her pussy would feel around him.

He’d talk her through it. Whisper sweet nothings in her ear as she releases around her cock, praising her for being such a good girl. Then he’d fuck her again, in a different position, debauching her in different ways not even the devil himself could think of.

John would ruin her, and she will have no choice but to accept it.

He brings his hand to his face as he sighs deeply. He wonders what Helen would feel of what he’s doing. Disgusted, no doubt. This is not the same man she fell in love with years ago. He would never do something like this, but fate has its plans, and John believes everything happens for a reason.

She was brought into his life for a reason and it’s up to him whether he takes.

John doesn’t realize that he’s been staring at nothing for too long until she comes back in his view once again. Her hair is still wet, still wrapped up in a fluffy pink robe, and John’s fingers itch to grab, squeeze, possess.

He sees her picking up her phone, staring for a moment before her fingers start typing. John has been anticipating this moment for so long, the time has finally come.

In his chest pocket, his phone buzz silently, the vibration sending excitement in his whole body.

There it is.

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : hello! this is Y/N from the club the other night

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : also that Y/N who returned your super expensive looking coin hehe ;) i hope you didn’t forget about me!

There it fucking is.

John’s lips curl into a small smile. His efforts are finally paying off. 

All he needs to do is to get what’s his.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick fanfiction #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #john wick chapter 4 #john wick x you #john wick 4 #keanu reeves #john wick smut #ochl #my works

[savviathan]

Gem pushes a couch into the lobby of Decked Out, directly in front of the door.

She sits down, soul lantern in hand, and coughs expectantly. She waits a moment. She coughs louder.

It feels like the stone around her sighs outwards with an edge of Tango’s rasp in its voice, and the door to Decked Out opens on its own accord.

“So, do you want to start, or should I?”

The stone constrict again beside her, tensing up like pursing its lips. It looks around, blue light burning brighter on the snow layers, then in the egg hunt room, and then settles again down by the stairs. The pistons beneath the floor hiss, and Gem feels something like the cold burn of ice touching skin.

“Then I will start.” She smiles, holding her head up high.

Somewhere, the stone cracks. Her lantern flickers frantically, flames dancing around and almost dying. Gem only shakes her head.

“I’m not very happy with you, you know.” She starts, putting her free hand on her hip. “But I’m going to be cordial. For your sake. This is a therapy session.”

Decked Out’s doors whine.

“One of many if you keep this up.”

Everything seems to still. Then, Decked Out slowly, painfully, releases the pressure in the room. Suddenly, a card is pulled from the deck:

STUMBLE

Gem laughs, hard.

As much of a hard ass Decked Out can be, it still holds Tango’s breath, and his eyes, and his heart, and his sense of humor. It still carries its creator’s vision. That sort of thing is easy to forget sometimes, between all of the ‘killing you’ thing. Speaking of that. Gem settles further into the couch.

“So. As you know, I’ve been running a lot recently. I’m on a quest to get good.” She pointedly ignores Decked Out’s snickering in Tango’s voice. “And I would like to run deeper, but I just can’t seem to find any keys. What gives? Why are you so angry with me?”

At that, Gem gets a startlingly bigger reaction than she had anticipated. It feels like there’s someone sitting on her chest, and the walls close in, and then back out, and the lanterns flicker, and the shop shuffles its contents, and, and—

“Okay, hang on!” She yells, and Decked Out freezes. Literally; she can see her breath coming out in puffs, now. “Well, that’s a lot to unpack.”

Decked Out begins again slowly, reshuffling the shop contents back to where they used to be. Cards pop up and down, and a shard reappears, and Tango’s weird dungeon lackey hood stays just where it is in the corner.

“Is it tango?” She asks tentatively. Decked out laughs back at her incredulously with Tango’s voice.

“Is it me?” And beyond the opened doors, decked out whistles. “What did I do?”

Decked out quiets.

“Nothing. Okay, I’m not following.”

Decked out’s doors groan. It seems to fiddle with the latches quietly, thinking, gears and redstone turning in its head, then clicks rapidly. The doors shut in Gem’s face.

“Hey, just because it’s hard to explain yourself in a language that—“

“Take your items or I’ll feed them to the ravagers.” It interrupts her, loudly, and the lanterns flicker by the stairs. The freezing temperatures leave the room.

“Oh.” Gem says, standing up and following it around the corner. Though, she supposes, following is probably the wrong word. It’s more like, lets it guide her to where it wants her to be. Or something. She’s not a master with communication of card games, she’s good with staggering textures in the walls, and driving a sword into Etho’s chest.

Decked Out clicks the redstone beneath her feet. She stops. It’s led her out to the front of the Deepfrost Citadel, next to Scar’s impromptu line, in the middle of the night and the freezing chill. She stares up at the imposing walls and spikes.

“What exactly am I looking for here, buddy.”

The wind whistles around her. Decked out is utterly silent, out here, unable to talk and seek in a way that matters. It knows this. Down below, mobs walk around in the snow, zombies, skeletons, Gem recalls when hoards of phantoms swooped in from the tops of the towers and attacked the few that were talking outside. It would be nice if someone could take care of that, really, and spawn proofed the area. But Tango couldn’t do that all on his own, could he?

Oh. Wait.

Gem stares back down at the spot Decked Out has taken her to, to the outsides where it cannot touch, where other creatures brush past its domain, unwanted. Gem thinks of treasure drops around the dungeon, and finding no keys, and Etho’s chuckles as he makes sure to compliment her before he runs. She thinks of getting past the gauntlet seven times over, and the comments about her appointed title, Geminislay, that tango gave her, and Decked Out has surely known.

Inside, Decked Out’s flames brighten, welcoming her back inside but never past level one.

“You don’t want me to have keys because you want me out here, don’t you?”

And the air around her, whistles, sings. The lantern she’s still holding, the one she’d brought for the therapy session, dances around in the air as it whips past. Gem sighs.

“Come with me.”

She steps inside, and feels the flames brighten as she passes, and the stone press outwards as to give her more room, and the room goes cold again as she makes it to the top of the stairs. She sits back down on the couch in the lobby, closes her eyes, and releases a breath.

“It’s my turn again.” She begins, and Decked Out is quiet.

“I recognize your feelings. I understand what you mean. I want you to know that, firstly.” She pauses for a moment. “But I am not Tango. I am not a fool.”

Decked Out laughs, again, boisterous and knowing.

“But I know that if I want to play, this relationship must go two ways, healthily. And I definitely want to play.” Decked Out hums at that, a droning sound, but it does not move. Just thinks.

“So I will protect you, where you cannot. I will be your gargoyle.” She giggles.

The citadel is a castle, after all.

“But I would like some keys. And I would like them fairly, nothing extra.” She pauses. “And also, it would be really funny if you messed with Impulse. Make him get a little tilted.”

The flames brighten. The walls seem to thrum with excitement, and a smile.

“So we’ve come to an agreement?” Gem stands and sticks her hand out.

Decked Out rushes cold hair to her fingertips. Gem smiles brightly.

“Then Geminislay joins the dungeon!”

Decked Out’s door nearly breaks itself trying to fly open.

And somewhere deep below, in Decked Out’s redstone guts, the dungeon master shakes his head fondly.

…

[Author’s Note:] I want to also give huge credit to @slashmagpie, whose amazing idea it was that Gem was the gargoyle of Decked Out. He also let me borrow this silly concept of a fic idea from him and write it. Thanks magpie!!

#savvieposts #hermitcraft #decked out 2 #tangotek #geminitay #fanfiction #savviewrites

[thestrangestthing89]

It's not an apology, it's a clarification. He very directly says "you misconstrued what I said" a thing multiple people around here have been trying to say for months. He said this exact same thing in an Instagram post he made a few months ago but people lack the reading comprehension skills to follow something like that. So he said it in a TikTok video again only some people are still not understanding. And it's because they don't want to. (He has recently taken his Instagram post down, I'm guessing because he is getting relentlessly harassed.) The truth of the matter is that many people didn't take the time to understand basic facts about this situation (like what the word Zionism actually means) and the result was that a lot of misinformation spread because people were desperate to make sure their followers knew they were The Most Progressive and The Most Anti-Racist. They did not talk about this issue in a way that was culturally sensitive. They made assumptions about Noah based on anti-Semitic stereotypes and I don't even think they realize they are doing it because, again, they aren't well-informed. But every time someone twists the word Zionism to mean "pro-genocide" and makes the flying leap that anyone using that word is laughing at people dying they are falling into the stereotype that Jews are bloodthirsty. Anytime people say that any Jewish person has the wrong information in this situation and needs to education themselves about their own culture, they are believing that Jews can't be trusted. They did all of these things to Noah and they did it very easily because they are ignorant. These people essentially turned into an angry mob. I can't even count the amount of comments I saw that were basically "I hate Noah too!!! Wait, what did he do? Someone tell me!" They piled on because their peers were doing it and not because they had any clue what the problem was. It was the cool and trendy thing to do so they did it. And they deluded themselves into thinking they were saving Palestinians in the process when they actually didn't do shit for anyone. The only problem is that the people who did this didn't take the time to inform themselves before piling on. Noah didn't apologize to them because he doesn't have to. They owe him an apology though and I think the ones with larger followings are responsible for a lot of this and imo are lucky they didn't get sued for defamation. He didn't do any of the things they are accusing him. They decided for themselves what he thought and believed based on very little information and they have no right to do this to anyone. They seriously think Noah is responsible for single-handedly killing people. He's not in the military or a politician. He didn't even endorse anyone who did. This whole situation is the stupidest fucking thing in the world. They are more outraged over the bullshit they made up about him the actual political situation and it's because they don't actually care. They are using Palestinians as an excuse to say hateful things, but they aren't helping them at all. I don't think Gen Z-ers are realizing that everyone older than them is getting increasingly more concerned about the way they go about their political activism. It's a serious problem and this current political situation only highlighted problems with them that had been occurring for a while now. Relentlessly harassing any Jewish person online for not speaking exactly to your liking isn't activism. Threatening to kill people who disagree with you isn't activism. Trying to ruin someone's career because they didn't act like your parasocial bestie isn't activism. Spamming the comments of everyone's posts with Free Palestine isn't activism and it sure as hell isn't what spreading awareness looks like. That requires being well informed first. Not to mention learning how to have difficult conversations without screaming hysterically at people and shouting that they must be pro-genocide/racist/misogynist/homophobic every damn second just because they said something you didn't take the time to understand.

They need to learn to ask for a clarification before assuming the absolute worst about people. They do this to people in the fandom constantly and it's why no one decent posts here regularly anymore. They are ignorant, plain and simple. But they are so desperate for peer approval and for people to think they are the best activists ever that they don't realize how much damage they do when they behave this way.

The people still pissed at Noah were always going to be. They were always going to pick him apart because they are anti-Semitic and they made that very clear. All he is saying is that people need to understand that both Jews and Palestinians are human and stop taking sides. A thing that anyone with a shred of human decency has been saying for months. The people who haven't been saying this tend to be very young (teens and early 20s) and it's because they fell for a lot of unverified information on TikTok - something that is concerning a lot of people given that it is an election year in the US. All anyone had to do here was listen and they didn't. They are too busy trying to be morally superior to anyone to bother having an actual conversation. They still aren't listening. There was nothing wrong with what Noah said here either. But people are determined to believe that he was laughing at people dying when he wasn't. This literally never happened. They just heard a word they weren't familiar with a jumped to awful conclusions. It's not their place to educate anyone on anything. They are not qualified to do so. And I wish people were smarter about who they were reblogging and weren't so desperate to get more followers by jumping on the bandwagon. They cause so much drama in the fandom constantly by acting like this. This is just the latest example.

The people who think it's now suddenly ok to be violent and homophobic towards someone just because they perceived that person to do something they didn't like, were waiting for an opportunity. They wanted to be horrible and they think they got a reason. They didn't and there is never a reason to behave like this. But it did reveal just how many people in this fandom are horrible human beings. The people who weren't saying this directly were still agreeing with those people and were not better than them. It should have set alarm bells off in their heads that the only people who agreed with them were being vile. That should have been the first clue they were on the wrong side. I wish people learned to think for themselves better. They were clearly jumping on the bandwagon and didn't understand what was going on. And I stand by my comment from a few months ago, we would not be dealing with relentless drama in the fandom if the show had a higher rating. And I do think they need to focus more on their original adult audience again. Most of us do not feel comfortable posting regularly in this fandom when it got taken over by kids who don't understand any of the things they are upset about, but they are upset with everyone and everything constantly. No one came here to babysit.

#social media seriously needs to do more about cyber bullying and the spread of misinformation #the people who did this to him owe him an apology #it used to be if you spread a rumor about someone you got sent to the principal and were forced to write a letter of apology #but kids are gently parented now and they can't handle being told they did something seriously wrong #they can't accept wrongdoing and they can't figure out how to fix it #so they just double down and act like even worse assholes than they've been acting #and everyone is fucking tired of it #no one wants to deal with this behavior anymore #gen z is increasingly becoming a group of people no one can trust #stranger things #noah schnapp

[undiscovered-horizon]

Contains canon-typical violence

[When another Peacekeeper takes you for a lady of easy virtue, Coriolanus goes to defend your honour. Exemplary gentleman! Or something to that effect...]

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Saturday night, mid-July. Despite the late hour, the air is warm but refreshing compared to the scalding daytime. A soft breeze carries an aroma of weeds and freshly mined coal. The streets of the town are filled with people - lovers and workers alike. Their whispered conversations and light-hearted laughter is drowned out by the booming music coming from the local bar. Truthfully, who in this weather could take a rain check on a cold beer?

The bar is bustling with life. The floor is shaking, boards creaking, as a mob of tipsy people is dancing their troubles away. Tomorrow and its anxieties a mere ripple on the water - unimportant, insignificant. The Covey is playing an encore, one of many that evening but the repetition doesn’t seem to bother the bar’s patrons. Their merriment continues undisturbed.

The same can be said about you and Coriolanus, at least for the most part:

You’re sitting with your backs turned towards the stage. A silent reassurance from Coriolanus that he is, in fact, over the songbird. Although you’ve never doubted his honesty or loyalty, he felt it only proper to let everyone know there’s a certain pair of eyes focused on only you at all times. Whatever that may entail.

Perhaps if you weren’t so emotionally invested in the obnoxious market quarrel you’re re-telling Coriolanus, you’d notice that he doesn’t look at you in the way one would expect a man in love to gaze at the lady of his heart. No, there’s something much more intense and downright sinister in the blue of his irises. The cognac in his glass is left untouched. Snow appears strangely animalistic as though he is nothing more than a predator waiting for a perfect opportunity to pounce on his prey. Perhaps if you weren’t blinded by love, you’d realize you’re an exotic, colourful butterfly hovering above a famished sundew. A matter of time, one could say.

In any event, all of your attention is on Coriolanus and the same could be said about him in some way - the part of his brain that is not lost to his primal fantasies with you as the main character is consumed by your entire persona. That is, until something, someone, gets between the butterfly and the sundew.

"Then a silence,” you continue your story. Considering the tension in your voice and the spark in your eyes, you’re about to retell the highlight of the drama. „She’s red in the face, absolutely seething. Her entire dress in drenched, she’s reeking of smoked fish. The guy, God bless his soul because he’s definitely going to need a miracle after this, he reaches for a-"

One of the Peacekeepers interrupts the climax of the story as he almost falls over. Stumbling and swaying, his much-unneeded drink spilling out of the glass, he grabs Snow’s shoulder to find balance. Despite leaning against Coriolanus, the soldier is still moving from side to side. If the air inside the bar wasn’t stale already, you’d probably be able to smell all of the liquor he has consumed.

"Private Snow,” the stranger drones his words, clearly struggling to form a coherent sentence, "has found us a barracks bunny! Good on you, Capitol boy.”

Time seems to slow down as you watch in horror what happens next. Coriolanus jumps to his feet. Not a word or even a growl of warning leaves his mouth. Taking a generous swing, Snow hits the man straight in his jaw. Something cracks horribly. The power of the blow makes Coriolanus lose his footing for a short moment. When he’s standing on his own, he’s quick to reach down for the soldier.

Snow lifts the other Peacekeeper by the man's collar. Coriolanus is angry enough for his body to shake.

"Don't you fucking dare talk to her like that," he growls. Before the drunk soldier has a chance to beg, plead or apologize, his face is hit again. And again. And once more - for good measure.

Finally, you grab Snow's shoulder and pull him off the battered man. Reluctantly, he stands up. Fury is burning inside his eyes. He’s about to say something when the bartender yells at the two of you and throws a dishrag:

"Hey! Out of my fucking bar!”

You tug at his hand and he doesn’t put up a fight. Snow’s eyes linger on the beaten-down soldier for a while longer. Pondering. Some less civilized part of him is considering breaking free from your hold to finish the offender once and for all. That aspect of his nature, however, loses to reason and Coriolanus gives up his taste for revenge. For now, at least.

The night air is refreshing. It feels as though the smell of wildflowers and coal is shaking you awake, instantly sobering you up. Despite the town being far from silent, it feels unbearably quiet without the dancing people and the singing troupe. You let out a deep sigh.

"I’m sorry.” Coriolanus is the first to speak up.

You turn around to look at him. His eyebrows are slightly raised and you almost believe his faux remorse. The look of satisfaction in his eyes gives him away completely. "You’re not.”

Suddenly, his doctored display of regret disappears. Even better - a grin curves his lips. "Yeah, I’m not.”

Coriolanus lifts his hand to reach for your jaw. Then, you notice something strange about his knuckles. Blood. The flesh between his fingers is torn. Red, irritated skin begins to swell and grow hot to the touch.

A high-pitched gasp escapes your lips. "Coryo, your hand! Let me-"

"It's nothing,” he answers in a stern voice. Coriolanus pulls his arm away when you try to grab it.

"Nothing?!" you repeat in disbelief. "You're bleeding!"

"Hey, look at me,” he says as he holds your face between the palms of his hands. Snow’s blue eyes pierce yours, making you feel like he’s suddenly privy to the deepest secrets of your soul. Considering how much time he’s spent studying you as a whole, he probably does. "It's nothing. Really. Just a scratch, nothing more. I'm going to be okay.” His expression changes from serious to more mischievous. Coriolanus lets out an airy chuckle. You feel his thumb gently brush against your lower lip. "You should have seen the other guy."

You can’t help but laugh too. As cliche and ridiculous as it sounds, someone did just got into a bar brawl to defend your honor. "I don't want to look at that man ever again in my life."

"Good,” Coriolanus whispers. His hot breath brushes against your flushed cheeks. "Then keep your eyes on me."

"With pleasure.” You giggle against his lips. He seems to have little regard for the fact that the two of you are still in public. Coriolanus kisses you deeply, almost desperately if he was humble enough to describe himself with such a word. "My knight in shining armour,” you say in an overly dramatic tone.

Coriolanus tilts his head. He stares at you with a mix of superiority and amusement. Silly, little butterfly that thinks the sundew is just another pretty flower. "A knight in shining armour is useless."

You furrow your eyebrows. "What?” you ask in confusion. "Why?”

"His armour is shiny only because it has no scratches,” he answers. There’s a sense of thrill in his voice. The sundew impresses the butterfly. "He’s never seen battle. He’s a coward,” he spits the word out with disgust.

Snow’s words make you nod in agreement. He has a point. A knight in a shining armour is a greenhorn at best and a wimp at worst. But if the knight’s armour is scratched and indented, he knows what he’s doing. The hero has seen war and came out alive. Not many can boast with that achievement.

"Then I sincerely apologize for your armour is, indeed, scratched, sir Coriolanus.” Gently, you hold his hand and kiss it right below the bloodied knuckles in case they’re too tender to touch without causing pain.

And what a beautiful sight it is - the butterfly joyously sits on the sundew.

___

Hey guys! I want to take a moment to sincerely thank everyone who has reached out to me in the past week. Although you’re Internet strangers, it really means a lot to know that people care. I’m doing alright but it will probably take a while to adjust to the new reality. Now whenever the cat is meowing at seemingly nothing, my mom says „She’s walking around”. As nice as it sounds, I truly hope She’s not looking over my shoulder, watching me write a romance fantasy about a walking red flag of a man.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfic #tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas fanfic #tbosas x reader #tbosas x you #tbosas imagine

[bruciemilf]

this concept that won't leave my brain. It's like a little gremlin banging to be let out.

Particularly, - Batman is Gotham's hero; He's not like any other baby faced, squeaky clean, popular good guy. He's scarred and brutal and violent in his service.

But it's fine, because Gotham is like that, too.

It's never peaceful, but it's standing strong, and there's an unanimous agreement they have Batman to thank for that.

The thing about Bruce is that he gives. He bleeds for Gotham, dies little by little every night protecting it, sacrifices everything he can and a little bit more so it won't be swallowed up by the evil that took his parents.

He doesn't expect parades, or celebrations, or gratitude because in his mind, it's just the decent thing to do.

Goodness isn't a chore. It's a choice. It's a sword you pick up again and again until your hands spill red and then pick it up some more.

And there's a collective fear in Gotham City. that one day, Batman would get tired of bleeding. When the GCPD gangs up on him, for refusing to let them gun down an Arkham escapee, they watched.

" He's not presenting a danger right now. His healthcare isn't enough to cover medication and he was dissociating. Let me take him back."

" For what? So he could escape again and rob another bank, like all the others?! Why are you protecting this psycho?!"

" He needs help."

" I don't care. His 'needs' aren't our damn problem. He wouldn't be anyone's problem if you just stepped aside and let us do the job you're too chicken shit to do. Who's side are you on, anyway?"

Batman's jaw is screwed tight, but he doesn't move. If he did, that guy hiding behind him would paint the streets red with a bullet hole in his head.

" We're supposed to work together, Batman."

" I work with people. Not pigs."

Commissioner Gordon tried to be fast, but he was pushed back as nearly half the police force swarm Gotham's knight; Kicking, stomping, punching, attacking because they know he can't attack back.

Because he's Batman, and they're just people. And the crowd watches, eyes wide and limbs frozen, until they can't. Until they won't.

There's a purse flying between the two crowds, hitting one of the officers square in the face.

" Hands off our Bat!"

There's pushing; That's what Bruce can see. Bodies on bodies, but it's easier to breathe again without a forearm pressing on his windpipe. He can't tell what's happening, but he's pulled back, handled almost... Carefully.

" Hey," he knows this voice, this face; It's the mailman, probably the one guy brave enough to deliver to the Waynes, who wonks for Damian three times as he drives away, elping him stand on a bad leg. " You alright, Batman?"

Someone else picks up his weight, - It's the owner of the grocery store his boys like to shop at.

She's glaring at police man currently sharing punches with an angry mob of people. " Bastards roughed you up, huh? Jim! Get your car!"

The people make way for Jim until he safely unlocks his car, threatening to fire anyone who even touches a trigger before he wheels over to where they're at. " Take care of him, will you?"

Jim nods, " I'll try."

They drive away, Jim locking the car because he knows Batman. But the people here are tough. They're just as angry and vengeful as their city is.

" Why?"Bruce is speaking outloud, watching a dozen, hundred people fight; For him.

Jim thinks it's very simple. " Gotham's fucked up. But we take care of our own," and he looks at Batman, eyes gleaming and grateful and relived, just like the runaway in the back-seat. " You may not be one of them, but you're one of us. Hope that's enough."

There's quiet.

" Thank you. For fighting for us."

"... Thank you for letting me."

Batman says nothing, but he doesn't need to. Jim doesn't say anything to his glassy eyes, or the temple of his lip.

Hope isn't permanent, but it's not lost. Not if they're reminded to find it.

#i am so goddam soft for heroes being helped by people. just - humanity is NOT inherently cruel or evil. love is humanity and humanity heals #dc #dc universe #batman #the batman #bruce wayne #jim gordon #writing #my writing #hurt/comfort #meta #anti police and unapologetic abt it #angst #the people in gotham love bruce god damn it #dc comics #battinson

[fluffysucker]

Whisperer

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Mob Au)

'Liberation comes in whatever form to save me. I hit bottom, and then the whisper comes. Your whisper in the breeze. Your whisper's what I needed. Quiet words. Soothe the hurt whisperer.'

It is written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female.

A/N: I had so much fun writing this. Part three coming soon.

Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me

TW: Violence. Cursing. Mentios of physical abuse.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist.

Some time had passed. Not long, but enough for Bucky to gather his thoughts. He couldn't listen to you. Absolutely no. The medical report sitting on his desk was a reminder. An alert that you were always in danger. And he couldn't live like this. He couldn't live knowing a monster was taking advantage of you in every way. He had to get you out of there. He didn't know how. He wanted to plan and do it correctly so you wouldn't get hurt more. It wasn't easy. But he was never going to give up. If it cost his life, he would still do it. You mattered the most.

However, he never thought the opportunity would present itself like this.

It was the middle of the night. Your father requested your and Rumlow's presence in his office. And you went. The meeting lasted for too long, and you couldn't tell what it was even about. Midway through the meeting, you left your father and Rumlow to carry on. You stayed in your father's office. You couldn't help but smile when you noticed your father only had pictures of your mother. Not you. Not even a family picture. He loved your mother dearly, but never you. Your mother died when you were a teenager. And from then on, it felt like he was punishing you. For a mistake that hurt you just the same.

After some time, one of your husband's men came and told you that they were waiting for you in the car. You followed him down. You couldn't hide your surprise when your father told you he would be joining on the way because his car broke. You didn't believe him, but who were you to object?

The ride was silent. You could feel something wasn't right, but you didn't say anything. If something was bothering Brock, then you would be the first to know when you got home. Unfortunately, it took you a bit to notice that you weren't on your way home. You were taking another route, and suddenly, you were on a deserted road. You tried to calm down. But Brock's voice ordering the driver to stop made you more nervous. Then he ordered you to go out. And you followed right away. Brock wasn't the guy to disobey.

The three of you got out of the car to stand on the deserted road. Then you noticed the car filled with Rumlow's men who had been following you. You looked around, trying to get any idea of what you were doing here. You gasped loudly when you saw your father punch Brock in the face. Brock's laugh made you stand still in your place. He turned to your father with the most evil smile you had ever seen, and he punched him too. You moved back when the punching continued. You looked at the men standing by the car, but none of them moved. It was like only you could see what was happening. But Brock and your father kept punching at each other until they drew blood.

Then Rumlow turned to you as he wiped the blood from his mouth. You couldn't possibly understand what was happening right now. You were too scared and confused. The next thing you felt was Brock's hand slapping you. Your head turned to the other side after the impact. You yelped as Brock grabbed a handful of your hair.

"You think you can do this to me, bitch?" Despite the smile on his face, you could tell Brock was angry.

"You think you are so clever that I wouldn't know." His grip on your hair tightened as he slapped again.

"Brock, what are you talking about?" You were holding his hand, trying to get away.

"Acting stupid too, ha." He hit you, and you couldn't help but cry out.

"Don't want to talk?" He hit you again. There was no winning with Rumlow. Whether you talked back or stayed silent, he still got angrier. You learned that the hard way.

"You and Barnes." He got tired of your silence, so he told you as he continued to hit you.

"What do you mean, me and Barnes? I have nothing to do with Barnes." You said it between your tears. Somehow, that angered him more. He threw you on the rocks, which left small cuts on all your exposed skin.

"You think I don't know about your history with him?. That you spent years loving him?" Brock's words almost sent you into a heart attack. Had he known all these years? Was this why he had been treating you like this?

"That you don't sleep next to me, thinking about him." Brock hit you with his feet, causing you to scream.

"Brock, I swear nothing has happened since we got married. I only saw him when you were there." You tried to defend yourself. Yes,you still loved Bucky, but your relationship ended before the marriage.

"Is that why he had his hands all over you at the party?" If Brock saw it, then you were as good as dead.

"I swear it's not how it looked." You didn't know what you could say, but you had to save yourself.

"Shut up." Rumlow leaned down to continue his aggressive assault on you. All while your father and men watched.

Once he was done, you were in so much pain, crying loudly. You didn't know how you were going to get out this time.

"But thanks to your stupid ass. I can finally have what I want." Rumlow said as he got up to stand next to your father.

"See if you died, and it turns out Barnes was the one to kill you. The city will be ours. It's a win without war."

"Oh, and why did Barnes kill you? To get rid of you because you wouldn't leave with him."

You tried to process how someone could be so evil, but you didn't understand. And fate hated you so much to get you stuck with them. Rumlow calling out with man made you flinch. As Josh, one of his loyal men, stood behind him, your mind quickly followed up on what was about to happen.

"No. No, Brock, you don't understand." You began to beg for your life in between your tears and sobs.

"Oh, I understand. It's two birds with one stone." His evil smirk made your bruised skin crawl.

"You know what to do, Josh." Rumlow ordered the man , as he was about to leave.

"No, Brock, please." You got up quickly despite the shooting pain in your body.

"Please, Brock, don't. I will do whatever you want me to do." You were used to begging, Rumlow. To stop hitting you. Stop touching you. It was nothing new. However, this time, you were begging for your life.

He threw you one more time on the ground and moved to get in the other car. You called out for your father, screaming for him to help you. But he didn't even give you a second look. If he hated you so much, why did he even have you? To watch as another man kills you. Quite literally.

Your sobs became so loud as Josh brought his gun out, and the engine of the car started and then drove away. Tears were like falls on your face. You couldn't believe that was it. Your life was about to end. Alone, scared, and betrayed. Maybe, finally, you would have real peace.

You tried to stop crying when Josh lifted the gun to your face. You are going to die. And it hurt knowing you had achieved nothing. You spent your whole life trapped and suffering. The only time you were free was when you were with Bucky. Bucky. You wish you could warn him. You wish you could tell him you loved him. One last time.

You put your hand on your mouth to console your sobs as you prepare yourself for death. You screamed as the shots were fired from the gun.

You waited for the pain to hit. To feel the blood. To see the light. All of it. But there was nothing. You lifted your head to look at Josh. He had the gun aimed above your head. He never meant to shoot you. You looked at him, baffled. He brought the gun back to its holster and threw you a phone.

"You make one call, then destroy it." He instructed you. You can only nod.

"And don't show yourself." He continued as he looked at the road to make sure nobody was there. He looked at you one more time before he went to the car you were in.

"Thank you." You spoke weakly. He saved your life. It's the least you can do. He smiled at you as he drove off.

You took the phone off the ground with shaky hands. You opened the screen and went to the contacts. But who could you possibly call? Fortunately, you only memorised one number, and it happened to be the number of the only person who could help you.

You dialled the number you knew by heart from your dating days, hoping he hadn't changed it. You couldn't help the sob that broke out of you when his sleepy voice reached your ears.

"Bucky, help me, please."

Bucky was driving like a madman. The second he heard your crying voice on the phone, he shot out of bed. He was glad he trusted his gut and answered the unknown number. It was a matter of seconds before he was out of the house and driving to the location you sent him. He tried to keep you on the phone, but it went off. Bucky has never driven faster in his life. He needed to get to you.

The location led him to a deserted road. He didn't care what happened or how you ended up here. If you called him, that meant one thing. The situation was so bad. So he had to get you somewhere safe immediately.

Bucky saw one car parked by the side of the road and two men who looked like punks who just got out of prison. The men were standing outside the car, hovering over a girl, trying to take her with them. Bucky could hear your screaming.

Bucky didn't even care to park the car correctly. He got out, brought his gun out, and shot the men dead. No hesitation. No thought.

You turned quietly to Bucky, and despite the dim light, he could see your state. Smudged mascara. Tears stained cheeks. Bruises and marks on your face, neck, and arms. Multiple cuts on your clothes. Bucky could feel the rage running through his body. Uncontrollable anger. Bucky wanted to go on a killing spree. Hunting down those who dared to do this to you. But now wasn't the time. You needed him.

Bucky called your name softly as he moved towards you. He didn't want to disturb you anymore.

"It's just me." He tried to reassure you that he was here now.

"Bucky." You whispered his name to make sure it was really his.

"Yes, doll." The use of a unique pet name was a good call. Because only Bucky has ever called you this. It was associated with happy and comforting feelings.

And it was like the pet name stirred everything once more. You started crying again, almost falling to the ground, but this time Bucky caught you in his arms. You were crying hysterically, holding onto Bucky like he was all you had. It was true. He was all you had.

"I'm here, doll. Nobody is going to hurt you anymore. You are safe now." Bucky kept whispering sweet, comforting words to your ears as you wept and clung to him.

But he meant it. Nobody was ever going to touch you again. Even if it meant war. He didn't care. You are all that matters. And you were back in his arms.

After a bit of time, Bucky was able to get you into the passenger seat of his car. Your crying had stopped, but your sniffles filled the car. You held Bucky's hand with both of your hands, resting it on your lap. Both of you needed the simple touch. You needed to know you weren't alone. That you had someone to hold onto. And Bucky needed to feel you. He needed to make sure you were right by his side. That you were safe. He would keep you safe.

Bucky stopped the car in front of his mansion. He didn't waste any time. He got out of the car and went to your side. He opened the passenger's door and carried you bridal style. You rested your head on his chest. His heartbeats were soothing. It was strange how the second you stepped foot in his house, feelings of comfort and security engulfed you like a warm blanket. This house was filled with good memories and happy moments. Despite being in pain, being with Bucky made it easier than usual.

You failed to notice the other presence who had been following you up since you got inside until Bucky put you softly on a bed. Bucky immediately took in your unease when you saw the other man. He was quick to reassure you that it was Bruce, a friend of his who was a doctor and was here to check on you. Bucky texted Bruce to come over once you got in the car. You tried telling him that it was nothing, but he didn't bother to listen. He needed to be sure you were okay. Physically, at least.

Bucky knew he should have left the room and given you some privacy, but he just couldn't. He was already holding himself back from telling Bruce to check on you while you were in his arms. He was unbelievably desperate for you. And desperate to make sure you were safe. This is why he had to control his breathing whenever you winced or groaned in pain as Bruce was patching you. Bucky was going to make them all pay for ever hurting you.

After Bruce had finished patching you up and reassuring Bucky that you didn't need to go to the hospital, you just needed rest, Bucky led Bruce outside and came back to you right away. It was like he could read your mind. He showed you the en-suite bathroom and told you to take your time. You closed the bathroom door to be faced with the big mirror. You had looked worse before. You had been beaten up way worse before. But this time, it somehow hurt more. You didn't know if it was your father's willingness to kill you, if it was the gun pointed at your head, or if it was being alone on a deserted road in the middle of the night. Or maybe if it was all

You shook the thoughts away as you moved to turn on the water and set the temperature. Then you stripped off your clothes and threw them in the corner, and you stepped under water. It was comforting to feel the water on your bruised skin. To let the water wash out all the remains of this terrible night.

While you were taking the shower, Bucky left some of his most comfortable clothes on the bed for you. He changed his clothes into a t-shirt and sweatpants, then went to the kitchen to get you a bottle of water and some snacks. He got back upstairs, and when he couldn't hear the water running, he knocked on the door.

You smiled pathetically at yourself as you finished putting on the hoodie. It had been so long since someone had asked for permission to enter your room. You let Bucky in. The sight of you in Bucky's clothes was heartwarming. You still never managed to fit into his clothes. They always looked so big on you. And he always loved it, too. How he missed this sight. He would never forgive himself for letting this happen to you. But he was going to make it right.

Both of you sat on the coach that occupied a part of the room. You sat in silence as he forced you to eat something. You were surprised to see him hand you your favourite snack. But Bucky had always been thoughtful, especially when it came to you. He then handed you the bottle of water, which you almost chucked right away.

"Thank you." You were the first to break the silence. You didn't know if you meant for the snack and water or for everything. Bucky assured you that it was nothing.

You gathered every bit of courage you had in your body to speak your next words.

"I can leave if you want to." With all your courage, it still came out like a whisper.

"What do you mean?" Bucky didn't try to hide his confusion.

"I will find somewhere else. This is so messy. I will understand if you don't want to be involved." You tried to let your voice be strong and stop the shakiness, but failed miserably.

Bucky couldn't believe his ears. How selfless did you have to be to ask something like this? How oblivious were you to his undying love for you that you thought he wouldn't burn down the world to ashes for you? He would walk through hellfire and over oceans for you.

"Sweetheart, you aren't going anywhere." He still didn't know what happened, but from the looks of it, it wasn't good. And nowhere seemed safe enough for him other than his own house under his watch.

"If it involves you, that means it involves me as well. No matter how bad it is, you will never face it by yourself. Not anymore. I will be damned if I let you walk away again." Bucky was a wise man who learned from his mistakes, and watching you leave was his biggest regret. So he had no intention of letting you

You couldn't help but smile at him weakly but it was a genuine smile that made its way to your face. After a long day of betrayal, Bucky made you feel wanted. And you were thankful.

After putting away the stuff on a nearby table, Bucky helped you move and lay on the bed. As he was about to leave the room, thinking it was what you wanted, you grabbed his hand. He turned to look at you, and his heart almost broke. You looked so vulnerable, like a lost kid in the big park. Your eyes were finally showing their truth. Deep hurt and fear. You were scared to be alone. And Bucky understood. Without a word, he joined you in bed, pulling you closer to him and wrapping his arms around you protectively. He laid a soft kiss on your forehead as a sign that he was here now.

Wearing his clothes and being in his arms, you were surrounded by Bucky. And it felt too good. It felt like a dream. Maybe Josh did kill you and ended up in heaven. Because after all you had been through, that was it. The most peaceful you had been in a long time You couldn't help but think of how you were ripped away from this to be thrown into the wild by yourself. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was the possibility of losing Bucky again.

The idea was scary. More scary than before. Because now you know what life looks like without him. It was unbearable. You found yourself nuzzling closer to him as if you were trying to disappear from the world inside of him. Unknowingly to you, your thoughts came out as hot tears that Bucky felt on his neck.

"I've got you now, doll." Bucky pulled you impossibly closer to him, rubbing his hand up and down your back with soft kisses to your hair.

You finally gave up and let down your guard, admitting that you could no longer take it. Your unfair life was no longer fit for you. That here with Bucky was where you belonged.

"I missed you."

You kept your eyes closed a bit longer. Maybe you would fall asleep again. When you didn't, you opened your eyes slowly, adjusting to the lights. It took your mind a moment to keep up with what happened and where you were, but the ache in your body served as a reminder. The feeling wasn't unfamiliar. It was the only thing you had ever felt for two years straight. You knew how to deal with it, how to live with it, and how to hide it.

However, this time felt different. Pain wasn't the only thing you were feeling. You didn't know how to describe it. But you felt relaxed in some ways. Maybe because that was the best night's sleep you had in a very long time. It was nice falling asleep in the arms of a man you didn't fear and spend your night afraid he might snap any minute. You fell asleep with a man who was always the only one to make you feel loved, appreciated, and, most importantly, safe. You felt safe with Bucky. A feeling that became so foreign to you. Having it back was pleasing.

It could be easy to just ravish in the comfort of these secure emotions. But you were realistic. You knew they were in for the short term. Your life would eventually catch up to you. If Brock and your father found that you were still alive, the outcome would be catastrophic.

You sat up, resting your back on the headboard, letting your mind race between the what-nows and what-ifs. Could you survive this, or was this your convalescence before death? You didn't know.

The soft knock on the door brought you out of your thoughts. You turned to the door as it opened to show Bucky, still in his home clothes. You reassured him quickly that you were already awake before he started apologising for waking you. Bucky started talking about how he prepared food if you wanted it or if you wanted to come down or just stay in bed. But you interrupted him.

"Bucky, you should know what happened last night." He was being too sweet and caring. He should know what he was getting himself into.

Bucky signed and came to sit next to you on the bed, keeping a little distance between you.

"You don't have to tell me now. Whenever you're ready." Bucky didn't care about anything other than your wellbeing.

"I think you have to know." You could feel yourself wanting to shrink away, but you had to tell him. He was at risk as well.

Before you could start telling him what happened, he spoke first.

"Just so you know. Whatever happened, whatever you say, It will change nothing. I'm neither leaving nor letting you leave. If I have to stand in front of the devil, I will do it." Bucky didn't have a problem saying it a million times. He needed you to be sure. He's got you. No matter how ugly it was.

You smiled thankfully at him. But despite being thankful, you hated how willing he was to risk it all for you because you loved him just as much as he did. You breathed heavily as you started telling him what happened.

You tried to give him as many details as you could recall. Everything from your father's call until you called him As you were talking, your voice began to shake, and your eyes were watering. You immediately felt Bucky's hand holding yours, fingers intertwined. He would draw small circles on your palm whenever it got hard to talk.

Bucky listened with full attention, not missing a thing that came out of your mouth. It was so hard to keep his anger inside, to not let emotions take over and burn down the city, but he was aware that now wasn't the right time. He needed to think straight. With all the information you filled him in with. Rumlow and Pierce knew about the both of you, and they already had a plan in motion to get rid of him. He was already in danger. However, he would keep you safe even if it cost his life.

The most important question for him was why Josh let you go and didn't listen to his boss. He needed to know if this was a trap, and both of you walked right into it. But you had a good answer. Rumlow was a cheap man regarding his men. He barely paid them enough. And you knew about this right away. And Josh was no different from Rumlow's way of working. So when Josh's little brother fell ill and needed money for surgery and medication, Rumlow didn't even consider it. You, on the other hand, gave him all he needed and a bit more once you found out. You even went and visited his brother in the hospital and brought him gifts. And it wasn't just Josh. You did this with all Rumlow's men and the housemaids. You were helping whoever needed it. You kept it all from Rumlow because you knew the consequences wouldn't be pretty. You couldn't help or save yourself, so you found serenity in helping others. A way to give what nobody could ever give you. But here you were. An act of kindness saved your life.

Bucky couldn't say he was surprised. Your kindness and good heart were what drew him to you in the first place. You didn't fit in this world. You were too good. Even in your darkest time, you managed to be the light for others.

So he promised you and himself that you would not shed a single tear again. That nobody was going to touch you again. And those who did were going to pay. Before you could stop him and tell him it wasn't worth it, he told you it wasn't up for discussion.

It was personal since he found out, but now that he knew Rumlow knew about your relationship and he still chose to hurt you. It became revenge.

You couldn't help the smile when he told you that he would handle everything and that you didn't have anything to worry about. You tried to tell him how impossible that was, but he knew how to silence you.

"They are coming for me now anyway. So let this be my problem while you rest."

And you listened to him. You spent the rest of the day with Bucky doing nothing. He took care of everything. Whatever you wanted came right to you. And you got to keep his company, which was something you missed dearly. Light conversations were going on between the both of you. You expected some awkwardness, but there was none. You felt at home. You were home.

After taking the medication that Bruce prescribed for you to help your recovery, you felt a little sleepy. He brought you back to the bedroom, telling you to let him know if you wanted anything. You thanked him, feeling truly grateful for all his help.

After you went to bed, he sat in his office, trying to figure out a plan. What should the next move be? He needed to play this wisely. He was interrupted by Steve and Sam's arrival. They showed up to find out why he didn't come to work today. Even if they could tell his excuse was a ridiculous lie, they didn't call him out for it. Bucky didn't want to tell them what had happened just yet. He trusted the two men with his life. But this was your life. He was extra careful.

However, his wishes didn't come true.

After Steve and Sam had stayed to hang out for some time, They heard noise coming from right outside the mansion. They left the office to be greeted with a very angry-looking Brock Rumlow and Alexander Pierce shouting at Bucky's men to let them in. Bucky took the lead, with his bestfriends following behind.

"Gentlemen, to what do I own the honour?" Even though Bucky had a pretty good idea why they were here, it was his time to put on his best act.

"Where the hell is my wife, Barnes?" Rumlow shouted as he pushed the man to go stand in front of Bucky.

"Why would I know this?" Bucky put his hands in his pockets to avoid punching Rumlow in the face.

"You know damn well why. Where is she? What have you done to her?" Bucky wanted to laugh at Rumlow's fake act of the worrisome husband.

"I have no idea what you are talking about." He wanted to see how this was going to play out.

"Like you didn't send your men on us last night and take my daughter." Pierce moved to join Rumlow, facing Bucky.

"No, I didn't." Bucky could see the cuts both men had on their faces. It must be from the punching session you talked about.

"Only you could pull a stunt like this."

"I have no reason to do so."

"Because you're still mad, she chose me over you. Your ego can't take it."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"She told me, Barnes. You like her and have been harassing her to get with you. And you took her. Where is she?"

"None of this is true. I only have respect for Mrs. Rumlow. That's all."

"So you aren't going to tell us where she is?"

"If I find anything, I won't hesitate to inform you."

"You are playing a dangerous game. If anything happened to my daughter, you wouldn't stand a chance."

"Let me know if there is anything I can do to help."

With a fake smile on their faces, Pierce and Rumlow left. They really stuck to their act. The loving husband and caring father It was laughable. Painting him as the bad guy was a smart move. He would give them that. However, he was smarter than them.

He turned to find Sam and Steve looking at him suspiciously. For someone to find out the love of his life was missing, he was too calm. And his reaction to the whole encounter was telling them that something was off.

Without a word, Bucky excused himself to go upstairs. He went straight to the room you were occupying. He needed to check on you. He walked in after knocking. The sound of the water was the only thing to stop his panic when he came in and saw the empty bed. He turned around when he heard the unlocking of the bathroom's door.

"Hey." You spoke with a smile when you saw him standing in the middle of the room.

"Hey. How are you feeling now?" He didn't hide how his eyes kept moving all over your body to check on you.

"Better. Thanks," you answered him with a soft voice.

"I thought I heard....." You were the first to bring up the real reason why he was here.

"Nothing. It was nothing." Bucky didn't let you finish.

"Like I said. You have nothing to worry about." He was quick to reassure you.

"Thank you." You lost count of how many times you said the word in less than a day. But you were truly thankful.

"Why don't you continue your nap while I make dinner for when you wake up?" You almost wanted to cry. Nobody ever cared this much. Expect Bucky. It had always been Bucky.

Bucky left the room as you made your way back to the bed. He smiled at you before he closed the door.

If it wasn't for his steady personality, he would have screamed like a baby when he turned to see Steve and Sam standing outside your door with the same suspicious look on their faces.

"Is there something we should know, Bucky?" Steve spoke first, knowing his friend was already hiding something.

With a sigh, Bucky knew he had to tell And he did.

"I can't ask you to help me with this. You have families and people you care about. But she is my family. I can't turn my back on her again." Bucky spoke after he had finished telling them what happened. It was going to be risky, and he didn't want to force his bestfriend to feel like they had to join him.

"So what are we doing next?" Both Steve and Sam knew they didn't need to talk to make a decision. They were kind of offended when Bucky suggested they wouldn't back him up instantly. Yes, both had families. Bucky was a big part of this family. So this was their fight, too.

"I don't know." Bucky gave them an honest answer. He didn't know what the right next move should be.

"It's quite clear, Barnes." A fourth voice added. The three men turned around quickly, hands ready on their guns.

"What are you doing here, Fury?" It seemed lots of people were remembering Bucky today.

"I just wanted to check on you." Nick walked in to sit on the big couch in the office, facing three of them.

"What do you want?" Bucky didn't have time for whatever game Nick was playing.

"Nothing. Just want to check on the girl and see what you are going to do next?" Bucky knew better than to let his surprise show.

"What girl?" He kept the neutral tone and expression up.

"Pierce's daughter." Maybe Nick is here to trick him. At the end of the day, nobody really knew where Nick Fury's allegiance lay.

"I said.."

"I know you were the one who went and got her last night. After Pierce and Rumlow left her."

Silence filled the place for a few seconds. The three of them are trying to process Nick's words. He knew?

"How do you..."

"I know everything. I know what Pierce and Rumlow were planning to do. I didn't know when. So I threw you the information about their marriage."

In any other situation, the stunned reaction the three men held would be very funny.

"What? Do you think I go around talking about other people's business? You needed to know. So you can move. So when this happened, the girl had somewhere to go."

"What made you think I would help her?"

"Cut the crap, James. You're in love with her. You love her so much that you wouldn't have had a problem standing in front of Alexander to marry her. If it wasn't for Rumlow,"

It appeared that Bucky didn't do a good job at hiding your relationship back then.

"So you knew they were going to kill her and did nothing?" He couldn't help the venom filling his voice as his mind caught on to Nick's words. He put you in danger.

"I knew they were going to let some of their men do it. I knew their men loved and respected her. They wouldn't do it."

"You couldn't be sure of this."

"They didn't do it, did they?"

"Why are you here, Nick?"

"To help you take down Pierce and Rumlow once and for all. Because if someone can do it, it can only be you."

Taglist: @ozwriterchick @vicmc624 @pattiemac1 @kandis-mom @dexter99

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[boxofbonesfic]

Title: New Hire [4]

previous chapter

Pairing: Alpha!Mob!Ari Levinson x Naive!Omega!Reader

Summary: After escaping your demanding, violent father, you get your first job nannying for Ari Levinson.

Warnings: Manipulation, Obsessive behavior, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Ari, Dubcon, Darkfic, Breeding, Smut, MINORS DNI, Dead dove: Do not eat

A/N: so, as promised, the follow up chapter. it’s not often that this happens, but since it was already sitting there, finished, i decided why not 😂. floral divider by @firefly-graphics​

This work is entirely unbeta’d, and unedited. Though I don’t own any of Marvel’s characters, this work and the plot contained inside are entirely mine. I do not consent for this work to be posted anywhere else by anyone but me. Enjoy 😘

You tremble with relief as Ari nuzzles the mark on your neck, running his lips over the taut, scarred skin there. He does it a few times, like he’s trying to reassure himself of your safety. When he finally releases you, you realize it’s not just the other mall-goers watching you. The police have finally arrived, and you watch Ari’s jaw tic as he watches them bundle the man out in handcuffs. 

 The man stiffens at the sight of your Alpha, and you can scent the tang of his fear as he takes him in. Ari’s entire body is tight, tensed like he’s waiting to spring—

 “Sir is this your son?” One of the officers, an older man with a graying beard steps in front of the two of you, blocking your line of sight. “We have some questions—”

 You’re still numb, barely present as the officer reads you the laundry list of  your rights, how to press further charges, what next steps the city will take in his arrest. You can barely concentrate on it, though. You’re still trembling, holding Liam tightly as the officer dismisses you, his words tumbling about in the space between your ears. 

 Attempted kidnapping of a minor is going to be our best bet at holding him. No, no record of him in the system. You’re still jumpy and nervous as Ari walks you stiffly back to the Jeep, his own Bentley parked directly next to it. He says nothing as he pries Liam loose from your hold, and buckles him into the back seat. It’s habit to try and shrink yourself, make yourself small in the face of a displeased male, and you fall back on it without meaning to, looking down at your trembling hands as Ari rounds on you. 

 “What were you thinking, Kitten?” He snaps, and you cower both in the face of his anger and the feel of it in your bond, grating against your senses. “Just yesterday we had that bastard show up at the house, and you thought it would be a good time to take Liam out? Alone?”

 “I, I didn’t think—” 

 “No! No you didn’t think.” His hand is curled into a fist on the hood of the car, and you flinch when he slams it down. Ari blows out a frustrated breath. 

 “Ari…” You pick nervously at the hem of your shirt. “I… I’m sorry. I tried to protect him—” You’re barely managing to hold back tears. “I—”

 “I know you did, Kitten.” Ari deflates a little, some of the tension leaving his body as his shoulders drop, just a little.  “I have… there are people who don’t like me, Kitten. Who don’t like the name Levinson.” He looks back towards the mall. “People who would do anything to hurt me, any way they could.” 

 “More business partners?” You can’t help the way the question pops innocently out of you, and you watch the corners of Ari’s mouth turn up. It isn’t a smile—there’s no happiness bleeding through the bond—it’s aloof, cold. 

 “Something like that.” He drops his hands to your shoulders, gripping them tightly. “You can’t do this again, Kitten.”

 “Are we safe?” Your head is spinning—Ari’s answers only raise more questions. You had no idea who could hate Ari so much that they would try to take his son. “Will they… will they try again?” This fear is familiar, and it dredges up old memories; of times before everything went sour like food left out to spoil. Memories of seeing men with guns, hearing loud, angry voices, your mother telling you not to look, not to listen. 

 It’s better if you don’t know, sweetheart, better if you don’t know anything at all.

 It’s almost infuriating, the way everyone in your life seems to make these choices for you. Deciding what you can and can’t handle while holding the information above your head and expecting you to just be a good girl and do as you’re told. 

 “They won’t try that again.” Ari’s voice holds an air of cold finality that makes you shiver again. “That, I can promise. But I need you to promise me you won’t do this. You don’t go anywhere without me, without someone to protect you. You’re not just anybody off the goddamn street.”

 “I’m… I’m not?”

 “No, Kitten.” Ari tucks a finger under your chin. “Because you’re mine.”

 —

 It’s only late afternoon, but you’re exhausted when you make it back to the house, half carrying Liam upstairs to the bedroom. He refuses to sleep in his own bed, which you can’t fault him for. You get his favorite movie, and start it in the big bedroom, all while Ari talks loudly on the phone in the hallway. 

 “I don’t care. Get him here. Tonight. You think I give a fuck what Cardinas has to say? I pay him good fucking money—”

 You want to know who Ari’s talking to—what he’s talking about. He sounds angry—no, more than angry, he sounds furious. You’ve never seen him like this before. 

 “Do you know how fucking close he came?”  You can’t deny that part of you is almost pleased at Ari’s fierce possessiveness. You’ve never felt wanted before, needed. Like his world revolves around you, of all things. “Good. One fucking hour, you hear me?” 

 An hour for what? Liam snuggles in next to you as the movie starts, his thumb planted firmly in his mouth. Ari comes in from the hallway, carding a hand through his thick hair. He heaves a heavy sigh as he tosses himself down onto the bed. Liam is already deeply engrossed in the movie, so much so that he doesn’t really notice when Ari leans over him to kiss your cheek. 

 You’re exhausted too, your eyes drooping as you sag against Ari’s shoulder. The adrenaline rush has left you wrung out like a limp cloth, barely able to stay awake as Liam giggles at the antics of the characters onscreen. It doesn’t help that you’d gotten practically no sleep the night before, either, and you drift off as Ari rubs soothing circles into your back. 

 You wake suddenly as Ari is moving Liam, his soft snores stopping for a moment as his father picks him up. The sky outside the windows is dark, and you mumble sleepily, trying to sit up.

 “No, Kitten. You sleep.” He taps the tip of your nose with one calloused finger. “Sleep.” 

 When you claw your way out of the darkness again, the bed is empty and long cold. The television in front of the bed is bright blue, the DVD player having shut itself off hours before. Groggily, you roll over and grab your phone, squinting at the brightness of your screen as the digits swim into focus.

 10:30

 You’d slept for hours, and probably even missed dinner—though knowing Ari, “dinner” was more than likely pizza. You stretch before swinging your legs over the side of the mattress. 

 “Ari?”

 There’s no answer from the darkened doorway of the bathroom, or the closet. You tug open the door to find the hallway dark and empty too, save for the sliver of light leaking through Liam’s cracked bedroom door. You peek in on him, satisfied to see him asleep, his stuffed duck held tightly to his chest. Careful, so as not to make a sound, you close the door, and make for the kitchen. There are no lights on downstairs, either, and the living room feels cavernous as you pad across it and over to the fridge. 

“I thought I told you to sleep,” comes the amused voice of your Alpha. The thought gives you pause—when had you started thinking of Ari as your Alpha? Alpha protects us, marked us, keeps us safe. The thought travels up from the primitive mess of your hindbrain, echoing just underneath the noise of your conscious thoughts. 

 “I did sleep,” you point out in a small voice, and a spark of warmth explodes inside your chest at his laughter. It feels nice to be wanted. “I missed dinner.”

 “We had pizza,” Ari replies, and you giggle. 

 “Of course you did.” The entire box sits on the widest shelf in the fridge, and you slide it out, and pull out a lukewarm slice. Ari regards you silently for a moment, and just when you’re beginning to feel self conscious about being the only person eating, Ari speaks. 

 “Kitten, I wanted to apologize. For earlier. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I was angry, and scared…You just… you have no idea what the stakes are.”

 “Then tell me! If…” You pause, swallowing. “If I’m good enough to-to fuck—” The curse feels clumsy in your mouth—“t-then I’m good enough for you to treat me like the adult that I am, Ari.” Your words sound braver than you feel, and Ari’s resounding laughter makes you shift nervously. You’re all too aware of his closeness as Ari leans back against the counter. Even relaxed like this, he exudes raw, potent power; and the feral part of you both wants to flee and prostrate yourself before him at the same time. 

 “Trust me, Kitten,” he says with a chuckle, his eyes dragging heavily down your form. “I don’t need reminding.” You swallow thickly, licking your lips. Ari’s eyes follow the movement. “Come, Omega. Let’s talk.” You take two stiff steps towards him before Ari’s arms envelop you, the warm spiciness of his scent making your head go just a little fuzzy. Ari runs his hand over the curve of your ass, squeezing lewdly before lifting you onto the counter. 

 You squeak, your hands fisting in his shirt as your bare thighs meet the cool granite countertop. Ari’s slate blue eyes are twinkling with amusement, his lips parted in a cheeky grin. His fingers trail across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he plays with the loose threads hanging from the unfinished hem of your shorts. 

 “Well?”

 You want to keep talking about earlier, about the men with guns, the man who’d tried to take Liam, but the thoughts seem to wither away as you try to form them into words. 

 “I-I, um—” It’s hard to think with Ari’s hands on you, his voice purring in your ear. “I need to know m-more about you, your l-life—Ari, oh—” He cups your breasts through your shirt, testing their weight. You’re suddenly acutely aware of the way your thighs are spread open around his hips, his breath ghosting across your face.

 “You smell so good, Kitten,” he growls, his beard rasping against your cheek as he drags his lips to yours. “Good enough to eat.” When Ari’s soft, full lips press insistently against your own, you’re already lost, sighing sweetly into his mouth. He groans, tangling his hand in your hair as he tips your head back, plundering your mouth with abandon. 

 “I thought you wanted to have a chat, Kitten,” you feel his mouth curve against your throat, and you’re only a little incensed at his mockery. It isn’t fair, how your body responds to Ari like it’s his, like he owns it—though according to the bite mark on your throat, you suppose he does.  You don’t know how his hands seem to be everywhere at once, tugging on your hair, sliding between you to stroke at your cunt through the seam of your shorts.

 You let out a shameful moan as his teeth scrape against your mark, Ari’s cock presses hard against you through your pants, and he hums with pleasure. 

 “Know you’re wet, I can smell it,” he growls against your skin and your hips roll into his. Fleetingly, you recall your father’s warnings, his fire and brimstone shame-filled rants about whores and judgement, but you feel so good. Your name is falling from Ari’s mouth reverently as he squeezes your hips, and you don’t know how this could be wrong, because it feels holy and right and—

 “Ari!” He chuckles at your breathy sigh. 

 “That’s it, Kitten. Tell me what you want.” You try to bury your face against his throat, but Ari won’t let you, cupping your chin as he strokes your kiss swollen lips with the pad of his thumb. “Tell me.” This time it’s an order, an Alpha command that makes your throat tight. 

 “I-I want you to touch me.” It’s vague but true. Ari hums. 

 “You can do better than that, sweetheart.” Your breath catches a little as his fingers play at the button on your shorts. He pops them open while you squirm. “You’re an adult after all.” You wonder if he can sense the embarrassment setting your cheeks aflame, and you huff. 

  You’re certainly not a child anymore, you’re well into your twenties. In fact, you’ll be kissing them goodbye soon enough—but the nervous, excited feeling tickling your stomach won’t go away, even as you fix your lips to say—

 “I want you to f-fuck me.” It feels clumsy in your mouth. You wish you could look anywhere but at Ari, his eyes hungry and dark. “Ari—” His mouth against yours silences you, and you whimper against his lips. One of his large hands finds yours, uncurling your fingers from his shirt. 

He slides it down between your bodies, and you shudder as you unwittingly skim your fingers over his taut, muscular stomach. Ari wraps your fingers around his cock, pumping it a few times with you before letting go. He’s so thick it’s hard to reach your fingers all the way around, and your cunt clenches embarrassingly at the memory of how he feels inside you. Warm, slick precum beads at his tip, and you swipe your thumb across it, spreading it across his silky, throbbing head. 

 Ari grits his teeth, growling as he ruts into your hand. He forces his thumb between your lips, pressing it down against your tongue. You’re dizzy, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit through your open shorts, saliva leaking out of the corners of your mouth as you stare up at him.

 “Love making a mess out of you, Kitten.” He tugs aside your panties with nimble fingers, a reverent noise leaving his throat as he strokes your slick folds. You whimper loudly as Ari circles your entrance with a careful finger. He clucks his tongue at you as he dips into the tightness of your cunt. “Shh, sweetheart. You want to wake up the whole neighborhood?” 

 You bite your lip, breath hissing between your teeth as you sag against him. 

 “Sometimes I forget how tight you are, Kitten,” he rasps, and you unsuccessfully try to hold back another ragged moan as he adds a second finger to the first. Your fingers twitch around his leaking cock and he bucks against you with a quiet groan. “Open for me, baby. Spread it nice and wide—that’s it.” Self consciously you grip your own thighs, holding them open while Ari takes a step back to admire you. 

 He reaches into his pocket, and you feel your heart speed up at the sound of his knife clicking open.

 “Stay just like that, Kitten,” he instructs you lowly. “Don’t move.” Your heart abruptly slows from a gallop to stand stock still in your chest as he runs the flat of the blade along your thigh. “Like these shorts,” he says, and you hear the sound of popping threads as he traces the seams with it. “I’d like ‘em better off, though.” You release a shuddering breath as cool air ghosts across the folds of your cunt. 

 Ari peels you out of your clothing, dropping the knife on the counter where it glints in the low light filtering in through the windows. The cooling evidence of his lust is still sticky on your fingers as he drags your hips forward on the counter until you’re almost hanging off of the edge. He hikes your legs up around his waist, before yanking down the elastic of his boxers. Ari hisses as the head of his cock bumps against you. 

 You feel drunk but you aren’t, and you know you can’t be in heat again, not this soon. The only explanation is Ari, that he’s making you feel this raw, this alive—

 “A-Ari!” 

 He drags his cock through your folds, growling through clenched teeth. “Yes, Kitten? Tell me.” He pokes at your entrance with his thick, throbbing tip, and you mewl in response. 

 “Feels g-good,” you mumble, unable to break the intensity of his gaze. “I w-want more—” The words dissolve into a strangled moan as Ari presses inside, the stretch a delicious and intoxicating burn that you know you’re going to crave when this is all said and done. 

 “You’re in luck Kitten.” His eyes drop to half mast as he sinks another inch into your tight, willing cunt. “Because I have more to give you.” His thick length pushes the air up out of your lungs in a harsh, needy whine, and Ari’s head falls back as he ruts into you with short, shallow, thrusts. “God, s’like you’re milking my fucking cock—”

 When Ari sinks in to the hilt, you cry out, and he claps a hand over your mouth, chuckling as he presses hard against your cervix. Air wheezes out through your lips and between his fingers as he presses his forehead to yours.

 “Quiet, Omega,” he rocks his hips into you and your mouth falls open behind his palm. Your muffled moans seem to be all the encouragement he needs, setting a deep, steady rhythm. You’re full, so full you could burst, and your every thought centers on the pleasure overflowing from your core. You’re drowning in it, dragged under by the tide, and you can’t even fight it—you don’t want to. 

 His hand drops to your throat, where he squeezes, putting just enough pressure to restrict your air but not enough to hurt. Your lips part, and only a wet rattle escapes. There are words, somewhere, for the unyielding pleasure Ari wrings from your limp body with every jarring thrust, but you can’t seem to find them. The only words your swollen lips seem to be able to pronounce are his name and your pathetic pleas for more, more, Alpha, please—

 You don’t register the sound of popping buttons, the plastic projectiles pinging off of the surrounding walls as Ari tears at your shirt with one hand like an animal, squeezing your breasts with a pleased grunt. You aren’t sure when you were lost, when you’d become a complete and utter slave to the depraved wishes of the knot-drunk Omega piloting your brain.

  You’re so close, your pussy squeezing down on Ari with wet velvet walls. His cock is already beginning to thicken, widening at the base as his knot begins to form. He already barely fits inside you, and you loose a pleased, needy whine at the fresh stretch of it. It’s like there’s fire under your skin, and Ari is happy to keep stoking it, ready to watch you burn bright—

 “M’gonna put a baby in you, Kitten,” He growls the words out against your lips, sucking and biting at the tender flesh until you cry out. “Make it so everybody knows just who you belong to.” Ari bottoms out inside you, his thrusts shortened by the thick weight of his knot. Ari runs his nose down your throat, pressing it into the gland just below his mark as he drives into you. 

 It doesn’t hurt when he bites down, clamping sharp teeth around the already puffy, scarred flesh. Your eyes roll to half mast as your cunt tightens down around him so fast that a choked groan tears loose from his throat. The slick, slick, slick of his cock sliding through your dripping pussy is punctuated by Ari’s muffled cursing, his fingers digging into your hips as he drags you over the edge. 

 You slump against him, crying out as you drown under wave after wave of bliss, Ari’s cock pummeling against your twitching cervix. Your thighs tremble around his hips, and Ari growls against your throat, his teeth still locked tightly in your flesh as you keen and writhe. 

 “That’s it, Kitten,” he praises you as you come apart into a thousand pieces in his arms. “Give it all to me.” You have no choice—Ari drinks in your pleasure like a sponge, his thick cock dragging along your spasming walls as he chases his own end. You’re sobbing, undone as he wrings another orgasm from your trembling body. Your pussy sucks lewdly at him as he ruts into you, and when Ari’s hips finally still, he shudders as he empties himself into your cunt, thick jets of his spend beating against your abused walls. 

 He captures your lips with his own, and you taste the copper of your own blood on his tongue. 

 “Think you can sleep now, Kitten?” He rasps, and you hide against his chest. Though you’re still locked together, Ari loops his hands under your ass, carrying you over to the couch, where he sits with a heavy sigh. You’re already fighting sleep—and losing, dark tendrils creeping across your vision as you listen to the steady beat of Ari’s heart against your cheek. 

 —

 “—should take her upstairs.”

 “She’ll wake up if you move her. Don’t touch her.” 

 “—outside.—“

 You wake up with a frown creasing your features—why are you downstairs? You sit up from the cushions blearily, rubbing at your eyes with the back of your hand. As if in answer, your cunt throbs, and your face heats. 

 Oh yeah.

 You’d been expecting to wake up in bed with Ari—not alone on the couch. The television is off, and so are all the other lights, and for a moment you just sit there, trying to parse out what had woken  in the first place. Voices, muffled conversation carried on just out of ear-shot. You stand with a groan, your thighs protesting the movement as the blanket that had been draped across you falls to the floor. A peek up the stairs confirms Liam is still in bed, his door firmly shut, and the warm yellow glow of his nightlight leaking out from the cracks. 

 Your face heats as you drape the blanket around your shoulders, disguising Ari’s handiwork. You don’t have to look in the mirror to know your throat is probably bruised like a mishandled peach, and the area between your thighs aches with a sort of pleasurable soreness you aren’t used to. You sniff at yourself as you head for the staircase, your nose wrinkling at the musky scent of sex that seems to drip from your pores. 

 Wait.

 You pause with your hand on the bannister, your foot frozen in midair. There’s something underneath the heavy scent of Ari’s pheromones, the woodsy scent of his cologne—

 Gunsmoke. 

 You whip your head around, suddenly alarmed and unnerved by the quiet house. Nothing is out of place, not a single thing—so why does something feel so…wrong? You turn away from the stairs, padding back across the living room. 

 “Ari?” There’s no answer to your tentative call. “Are you still here?” 

 The kitchen is empty, and your face heats as you pass the island, the scent of your pleasure muted, but still present on the stone countertop. The pool light is on. It’s so dim it almost doesn’t register, the soft blue light flooding over the tiles to wash your feet in cool aqua. You reach for the metal handle, and the door slides open silently. It’s still dark out, though the very edges of the horizon are tinged pink, hinting at the rising of the sun.

 The terra-cotta tiling is cool and slick under your feet, the pool placid and quiet beyond it. The scent of burning metal is stronger out here, mixed with the scent of cut grass and morning dew, but it’s there, and it’s unmistakable. There’s something else too, something that helps new fear curdle the remnants of the afterglow still lingering in your system. The scent of heavy, coppery blood. You round the pool into the patio-area and freeze, your body stalling like a stubborn mule. 

 The man who’d tried to take Liam is on his knees, his face swollen and bruised. In fact, you’re not even sure how you recognize him. He’s taken a beating, that much is clear—blood bubbles from his crooked nose and split lip, dripping down to soak into the already stained t-shirt he’s wearing. You can hear the wet rattle of his breath from where you’re standing. His hands are zip-tied behind his back, hanging at such an awkward angle you know they must be broken too. 

 You try to turn, to look away from the scene searing itself into your retinas, but you can’t, can’t close your eyes, can’t move. The two police officers standing by don’t look particularly concerned as the man coughs up more blood and sags, falling over onto his side. 

 “I’m going to ask you one more time, Jim, and I really hope you’re honest with me.” The familiarity of Ari’s voice cut with the cold, aloofness in his tone sends a massive shiver down your spine, and you clutch your arms to your chest. Ari approaches slowly, his shoes clicking against the tile. A cigarette hangs from the corner of his mouth, and he grasps it with two fingers, tapping off the growing ash before replacing it. 

 “Why my son?” He asks. The cool calm dripping from his words isn’t reflected in his actions as he presses his thumb into a sluggishly bleeding wound on the man’s shoulder. He cries out in pain, his voice echoing loudly in the quiet of your suburban neighborhood. “Why Liam?” The man begins to sob, though Ari pays it no mind, taking another deep drag off his cigarette. 

 “Come on, Clarence. You think I like having the boys work you over? It’s messy.” Ari wipes his bloody knuckles off on his own slacks.

 “H-he said w-we need to d-destroy your l-legacy.” His voice is so low, you almost don’t hear it. “P-please…” He’s speaking around broken teeth, blood and spit leaking out from the corners of his mouth as he stares pleadingly up at Ari. “I w-wasn’t going to hurt him, I swear to fucking God, I wasn’t—”

 “Cardinas, call in a 444.” Ari cuts him off, snapping his fingers. 

 “Boss.” You aren’t close enough to read the bronze tag on his uniform, but you’re willing to bet it says Cardinas on it. “That’s an officer involved shooting.” 

 “I know.” Ari replies, disgust lining his handsome features as he takes the cigarette and stubs it out on the other man’s arm. “Because bright eyes here got loose during transport. Grabbed a gun,” he says, holding out his hand. Cardinas undoes the clip on his holster, before handing Ari the gun. “You had no choice.” He raises it, pulling back the hammer. 

 “You know if you do this, it’s war.” The slow drawl seems to cut through the moment, and you squint, trying to see through the early morning haze. “Actual, factual war.” 

 “Shut up, Drysdale.” Ari growls through clenched teeth, cutting his eyes over his shoulder. The other man smirks, shrugging. He dusts imaginary dirt from his cable-knit sweater, before tucking his hands into his pockets. 

 “I’m just pointing out the risks, such as they are.” 

 “I know the fucking risks.” Ari raises the gun. “I think it’s time Quill did a little risk assessment of his own.” 

 The gunshot is quiet, quieter than you anticipated. It’s quieter than the horrible, wet noise of thick blood painting the tile, quieter still than the low noise of disgust Ari makes in his throat. 

 Quieter than the shocked gasp that tears loose from your lips, even as you raise your hands to your own mouth to try and quiet it. 

 “Oh look, an audience,” the man in the sweater winks at you from across the lawn. “Cute little thing—wait. That’s not Randy’s brat, is it?” You fall to your knees in the wet grass, your trembling hands clapped tight over your open mouth as Ari turns toward you with a sigh, carding his hand through his hair. 

 “Oh Kitten.” He crosses the lawn in a few easy strides, before dropping down to a squat in front of you. You flinch as he reaches for you with sticky, copper fingers and cups your cheek. 

 “I really wish you hadn’t seen that.” 

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#chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson smut #ari levinson imagine #alpha!ari levinson #alpha!ari levinson x you #dark!ari levinson #mob!ari #mob!au #mafia!ari #alpha/beta/omega AU #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!ari x omega!reader #New hire fic #boxofbonesfic

[awildtei]

[CW: slight nsfw]

In my Kevaaron shit frothing at the mouth at the Possibilities. Because they live together for two years, both having to be at Andrew's side all the time, and there's so much potential for things to happen without anyone else knowing. Them having their own arc in the background of Andreil with no one the wiser because no one actually pays them any attention.

Aaron with his shitty attitude, internalized homophobia, past of addiction and abuse, hating Kevin for bringing more drama into his life with his stupid fucking mafia issues and for the way he so easily holds Andrew's attention when Andrew treats Aaron like he doesn't exist; Kevin with his ego, his "it'll be easier if he remains heterosexual", his alcoholism, his history of abuse, his constant fear and anxiety.

Them not liking each other but not really caring enough about the other to truly hate them. Ignoring each other's existence best they can.

Then eventually sexual tension they try to work out by fighting constantly. Hurting each other's feelings better than anyone else can because somehow they see each other and know exactly where to cut so it'll hurt the most.

Getting lost in the crowd at Eden's, drunk and barely high, dancing too close together, too dirty to be friendly, making out and then pretending they didn't.

Them eventually fucking because they need to get it out of their systems and Andrew doesn't let them out of his sight long enough to go out and find someone else (and really, they don't trust any stranger to have them so vulnerable when they are in the middle of a fucking mob war). Kevin with his "this never leaves this room, I'm not ruining my career", Aaron with his "I'm straight, this is just convenient", both meaning it until they don't, really.

Both catching inconvenient feelings, both sure it's one-sided. Kings of denial. Moments that they refuse to read into because that way lies madness, like that time they accidentally fall asleep together, or when Aaron talks Kevin down from a panic attack, or when Kevin makes tea for Aaron when he's frazzled and sleep-deprived studying for finals.

Kevin, heart in his throat wondering whether Aaron is still with Katelyn, because he thought they'd broken up but he sees them talking at a party; Aaron, heart in his stomach, wondering whether Kevin actually wants Andrew and not him, is settling for someone who looks like him because he can't have the real thing.

At Eden's, Kevin almost kissing Aaron when they're left alone at the table because he wants and it's killing him; Aaron pushing him away, snapping "You're drunk," because he has to be, otherwise there's no way he'd do this, here, in plain view, there is no way he actually wants Aaron. Aaron, angry and seething because how dare this asshole keep tripping him up at every turn, giving him hope he knows will be crushed in a second; Kevin, not drunk (not yet), rejected, being reminded yet again that it is just secret, shameful sex for Aaron, that kissing him where their friends might see them is not something he can do, that Aaron doesn't actually want him.

The sex, getting confusing. Sometimes too gentle, too worshipful, too loving to be called fucking. Sometimes they remember themselves and turn it fast and dirty and angry, tell themselves not to slip up again.

Aaron seeing Andrew with Neil, so jealous, so envious, so sad and angry because he will never have that; Kevin watching Neil with Andrew, so lost, so helpless, because he used to only care about Exy but now when he imagines his future as a pro player it stretches lonely and even the thought of making Court again doesn't compensate the thought of Aaron being gone from his life, somewhere far away at med school, Kevin a speck in the rearview mirror of his life.

Aaron being hot and cold, one minute open and desperate and the next completely closed-off; Kevin oscillating between I'm going to tell him so he can either accept it or reject me for good and I'm going to keep my feelings very quiet so I can have this for as long as I can.

Making out for hours, not taking it further, Aaron thinking shit shit shit this is not what this is supposed to be, Kevin thinking yes yes yes this is different this has to mean something.

Kevin after winning championships and surviving Riko for good deciding since he's the best exy player in the world he can do whatever the fuck he wants and no one can say shit about it, deciding he's all in, respecting when Aaron pushes him away but otherwise not backing out out of fear, not anymore; Aaron, having killed a man, finally working on his relationship with his brother, the trial looming menacing in the near future making him question everything he thought he knew about himself, deciding the worst-case scenario in his life has probably already happened and Kevin Day breaking his heart will not kill him, deciding he will just do whatever the fuck he wants and if Kevin notices his feelings he can deal with it or break things off with him, whatever.

Eating alone together and watching movies alone together and so many dates they don't call dates but don't not call dates, either. Kissing all the time now, when no one is around, quick pecks as hello and goodbye, fond smooches when the other does something adorable. Hands finding hands during sex, during make-out sessions, under the blanket during movie night sat side by side on the couch.

Kevin holding Aaron in his dark suit for a long time before the trial, just quietly hugging him, hands on his back and hair, lips against the crown of his head, before Aaron sighs and steps back, face set, hand squeezing Kevin's one last time for strength.

After the trial, Aaron exhausted and rattled and wishing he could go back to not knowing, walking straight into Kevin's arms in the middle of the busy courtroom without a single fuck left to give.

The days following the trial, days of quiet companionship, of Kevin just being there for Aaron, ignoring Andrew's knowing raised eyebrow and Neil's confused frown, thankful Nicky is holding his tongue for now.

Days of letting the dust settle until Aaron goes back to being himself and Kevin finally lets himself ask, blunt and straightforward; Aaron being brave for perhaps the first time in his life and telling the truth. Kevin smiling, not his smug smirk or his camera-smile, something softer, brighter, happier, more real, speaking his own truth; Aaron finally letting his walls down fully, letting his eyes and face show everything, kissing him like his life depends on it. Both holding on, holding on, holding on.

#aftg #all for the game #aaron minyard #kevin day #kevaaron #tei's

[munsons-melody]

hi! i read your 'angeleyes' fic and it was AMAZING i was just wondering.. perhaps, just maybe, a part 2-ish where y/n and eddie actually have that picnic at lovers lake ?? i think that would be so cute and pure 🤭 or it could be a totally separate thing from the fic itself!

eeek i'm so happy you wanted a part 2!! sorry for the late response, i wanted to write the fic as perfect as possible before responding, i hope you love it!! <3

your song (angeleyes part two)

summary: you and eddie finally get your date at lovers lake

(part two to my fic angeleyes which can be found here)

pairing: eddie x female!henderson!reader

content: pure fluffiness

recommended song: 'your song' by elton john

word count: 4.4k

masterlist

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

-

after you and eddie reconciled in the back of the RV, you vowed to yourself that you would let nothing happen to him and he of course already told you that he would keep you safe no matter what

even when that meant reading his mind when returning through the gate. you had watched dustin climb through the rope into normal hawkins, before turning to eddie. he gave you a chaste kiss before helping you up and through the gate, but once through, you looked down to see eddie staring at where the demo bats were attempting to breach through the top of the trailer

"edward james munson, get your ass through this gate right now!" you screamed, knowing he wanted to go out there and keep fighting, be the hero he was destined to be

"coming" he mumbled, snapping out of his thoughts and looking back up through the gate to see you

once you reconvened with everyone back in the real world, you felt some weight fall off your shoulders, assuming vecna was dead, and you felt a sense of normalcy headed your way, however, that was not what happened

eddie was found and arrested within hours of being back in the real hawkins because a couple people spotted movement within his trailer

you sat on the cold hard chair in the waiting room of the hawkins police department. it had been at least an hour since eddie was taken back to the small cell they had in the back of the building. you sat there with your hands buried in your hands with dustin next to you, who was biting on his thumb nail out of pure anxiety.

the news had not gone public but you were scared that at any minute, angry mobs of people would appear, ready to rip him apart for something he didn't do

sheriff powell walked into the room, handing a file over to florence who sat behind her desk. you stood up, looking for some sort of sign that you would be able to go back and see him

"uh we need to ask you a couple of questions as well, if you wouldn't mind," he said, ushering you to follow him

"no, whatever you want to ask, you can ask me right here," you said, crossing your arms

"ugh whatever, uh, did he force either of you two into his murderous plans?" he started, flipping open a small notebook, clicking his pen with a frustrated sigh

it was obvious that since he took on the role of the hawkins sheriff, he never expected to be put in a situation like this and as the arresting officer, he was clearly stressed knowing he had the number one suspect of the murders in the building and only him and florence knew that he was sitting in the holding cell

"what? no! that's crazy, he is innocent!" dustin yelled

"son, you need to remain calm or we won't be able to get to the bottom of this," he said, rubbing his forehead in distress

"calm? you want me to stay calm? you just arrested someone who is more innocent than mother theresa! he was framed!" dustin yelled again, throwing his hands up to dramatize his point

just then, the phone rang.

"hawkins police department, how may i help you?" she said picking up the phone and placing it on her ear. she balanced it between her shoulder as she grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, writing something down

she muttered a couple of "uh-huhs" before hanging up the phone and standing up, walking over to the sheriff

"that was officer callahan, he just found some kids at the abandoned creel house, one of them with broken arms and legs like the others, she was taken to the hospital about half an hour ago" florence explained, and you looked at dustin

"is she awake? can she talk?" powell asked and florence shrugged

"they didn't say," she responded and Powell nodded

"i'll be back, you two stay here" powell said firmly, grabbing his sheriff hat and walking out the door

you nodded, and sat down again, tears pricking at your eyes feeling frustrated as ever

"are you guys hungry?" florence asked sweetly and you shook your head, rubbing your forehead

"you sure? cause i can go grab something next door, and while i do so, there's no one here to stop you from seeing mr. munson..." she trailed off

you lifted your head up, picking up on what she was trying to say. she would leave to get food and while she was gone, she was going to let you see eddie

"but what about-" you started and she shook her head

"i'm going to go get you two food, you two look famished" florence said again, grabbing her coat and purse and walking swiftly out of the door leaving you and dustin alone in the building

you would assume that there would be more officers working, but most were out patroling the streets or looking for eddie, unaware that the sherriff already brought him in

you quickly ran down the hall and turned the corner to see eddie sitting on the hard metal bench that was connected to the wall, his head in his hands

"eddie?" you said urgently. he lifted his head up to see you and instantly got up and walked towards the bars that divided the two of you

"y/n, how did you get back here?" he asked, linking his hand with yours that met on one of the bars

"florence let me back but that's not important, how are you?" you asked sympathetically

"oh you know, just peachy, i almost die defeating an evil force just to get thrown in jail for a crime i didn't commit" he said sarcastically. you knew he was using it as a defense mechanism to cover the fact that he wanted to cry and scream and punch a wall for being in the worst situation imaginable

"well i am going to do everything in my power to get you out of here i promise" you told him and he nodded, wiping away a tear

"oh eddie bear don't cry" you said, using his nickname you started to call him when you first started dating

"ew, eddie bear?" dustin said, appearing behind you

"hey at least she is being nice" eddie snapped back and dustin crossed his arms

"i am nice too! i'm here to help get you out," dustin told him and you sorta droned out as the two continued to bicker like brothers with one another

you both stayed with eddie for a couple more minutes before you heard the bell of the front door ring, signaling someone was coming in

"shit, okay, i love you, i'll be back" you said to eddie, disconnecting your hands and following dustin out of the room and down the hall back to where the desks were

florence came back in holding a large brown paper bag, giving you a small smile

"sorry im a few minutes later than i should've been, there was a long line" she said with a wink, handing you the bag

you thanked her as she took out one package of food and headed down the hallway, presumably towards eddie, and left the rest to you and dustin as you dove into the meal

you were almost done, snacking on a couple of leftover fries when both sheriff powell and officer callahan walked into the building and down the hall to eddie

you got up, following them, not caring if you would get reprimanded for doing so. they were both silent as you watched them unlock the cell, eddie standing up and looking at them with confusion

"mr. munson, under new evidence you are no longer under arrest for the murders of chrissy cunningham, fred benson, and patrick mckinney. you are free to go" powell said with a grisly voice

eddie slowly walked out of the cell, staring at the two officers incase they were to have a snap in judgment and throw him back in

"what.. what do you mean?" you asked as he walked to you, giving you a hug

"we cannot disclose much but, we found that there was another accident that occurred when mr. munson here was in this cell, which proves.." callahan started to say

"it proves he didn't do it since we had him detained here so there was no way he was able to get out and do anything" powell finished

you started crying, and your arms wrapped around eddie, pulling him in close

"thank god" you mumbled out, before it hit you

-

the next day you woke up in your bed, eddie next to you. after all the shit that went down, you were more than happy to be showered and laying in bed next to eddie who was no longer convicted of a crime he didn't commit

the two of you snuck into your room the night before as you were promised as of 12 pm last night, the news would be spread that eddie munson was innocent

you knew that even with the proof of innocence, people would still be cruel towards your boyfriend so you decided the best course of action was to let him sleep all day in a comfy bed, then take him on a picnic to lovers lake. it would be secluded and give you a chance to just be with him

you rolled out of bed quietly and walked out of your room and down the hall to the living room. you saw your mom sitting in her chair with tews sitting on her lap, watching the news

"did you see this?" she asked, motioning to the tv where you saw the headline underneath powell stating the new evidential facts

new evidence found in munson case - suspect found innocent

"yeah uh, i did see that, i actually picked him up from the station last night..." you told her and she gasped

"where is he now? he obviously can't go home" she asked

"now mom, don't get mad but he had to stay over last night-" you tried to explain and she got up, putting tews on the seat behind her

"he's here?" she said with a mix of a shout with a whisper, you gulped with a nod

"well, that poor thing! after everything he's been through! does he need anything?" she asked, and you were shocked

"oh uh, not now? he's sleeping but when he gets up he'll probably need something to eat and then i'm taking him on a picnic tonight," you smiled sheepishly

"oh good, well i do have to head to work soon but please make him feel at home, poor thing has been through enough" she told you and you nodded with an unsure smile

"yeah sure" was all you said as she walked to her room

you stood there, stunned. to be fair she knew you and eddie were dating and how close he and dustin were, but the whole situation of him being accused of something so heinous really freaked her out.

you checked the time and saw it was only about 8 am, your mom would leave in a few minutes and you knew for a fact eddie and dustin, who were both dead asleep, would probably not wake up till hours later

figuring you should do something of use, you decided to wash eddie's clothes, start prepping food for your picnic, and find some other things to busy yourself with

-

"how's max" you asked nancy. she was at the hospital with mike and lucas, and she called you after wondering where you went. you explained the eddie situation which she was thankful for, and updated the rest of the group for you.

"alive, but her arms and legs are broken and in casts, the doctors don't know when she'll wake up," she said as you heard her sniffles

a few tears started to fall upon hearing the news, and you nodded, thankful she was alive but praying she would wake up and everything would be okay

"how's eddie doing?" she asked just as you heard a door creak open. you looked around the corner to see eddie coming out of your room in just a pair of boxers

"speak of the devil, he just woke up," you told her as eddie wrapped his arms around you, the warmth of his body heating up yours

you continued to talk with nancy for a few more minutes as eddie slowly swayed you side to side. the two of you eventually said goodbye and you hung up, turning your body to face eddie

"hi baby" he said as you put your arms around his shoulders, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck

"how'd you sleep?" you asked

"fucking amazing, such an upgrade from ricks couch," he said, kissing your forehead

you stood like that for a handful of minutes, enjoying the bliss of standing in each others arms.

"you hungry?" you asked. "yeah" he mumbled out. you went to move out of his arms but he wouldn't let you move

"baby i kinda have to go to the kitchen" you laughed, trying to worm your way out of his arms and he gripped tighter

"nope, cant let you go, i love you too much" he laughed as he fake wrestled you to avoid you leaving his arms

eddie and you fumbled to the floor, causing you two to burst into giggles. you hadn't heard his laugh in the longest time and it warmed your heart

"i've missed that" you said, leaning on your side to look at him. he propped himself up on his arm and out the other around your waist

"missed what" he asked, stroking your hip lightly with his thumb

"you, your smile, your laugh, everything" you giggled out

"i missed everything about you too" he said, using his hand on your hip to pull you close. he swiftly moved so he was hovering over you, slowly leaning down to kiss you

just as your lips touched, you heard a few footsteps and then a loud "what the fuck, get off the floor" by an annoyed dustin, who clearly just woke up

"sorry man" eddie mumbled out, and got up, and helped you up from the floor as well

you cooked the two of them breakfast, and munched on a few pieces here and there before dustin got up, putting his plate in the sink

"i'm going to get dressed and then head to the hospital to see max, can you drive me there?" he asked eddie, and he nodded a yes

"uh babe, where are my clothes?" eddie asked

"oh i washed and dried them for you, they should be downstairs, i can go get it" you said, kissing his temple in passing

you quickly got his clothes out of the dryer and brought them back up from the basement, going to your room and setting them on your bed

you went back to the kitchen, and started cleaning the dishes up, noticing dustin left the table

"i put your clothes on my bed" you said to him when he came up behind you and kissed your neck

"or we can make it even and you can lose your clothes" he suggested, kissing up your neck

you smiled, drying your hands on the small towel next to the sink

"oh really?" you smirked, as he kissed up your neck, you pressed back against him causing a small moan to emit from his perfect pink lips

"okay eddie im ready to go!" you heard dustin scream as he walked down the hall

"fucking cock block" eddie mumbled, leaning his forehead against your shoulder causing you to giggle

"go on, i'm gonna work on our surprise date" you said and he kissed your shoulder

"its not really a surprise if you tell me about it" he said, pulling away from you causing the chilly air to nip at your skin

"well i had to tell you cause you're gonna drive us there" you said smiling

"oh really?" he said, pulling you in for another kiss

"really" you said pulling away

"ew gross guys cmon im right here" you heard dustin complain. you giggled as you watched eddie flick dustins temple as he passed him on the way to your room

a few minutes later he came back out wearing his newly cleaned hellfire t shirt and black jeans, slipping on his shoes

"lets go" he said, keys in hand

-

after eddie got back, you two packed up food, and you honestly didn't care that you knew he knew where you guys were going

you had gotten dressed into a comfy sweater and jeans, knowing it was going to be a bit nippy when the sun set by the lake

eddie helped you push the picnic basket and blankets into the back of his van then helped you up into the passenger seat, shutting your door for you, always refusing for you to get it because to him 'a lady should never get her own door' and always insisted he did it instead

"so i think i know where we're having our surprise date" eddie said with a smirk, hopping into the drivers seat and shutting the door 

he turned on the engine in his van and started the usual drive from your house to lovers lake 

the radio played softly, and you turned your body to admire him, watching him focus on the road, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the clutch.

"what's going through your mind pretty girl?" he asked, noticing you looking 

"nothing, just admiring how pretty you are," you smiled, and he stretched the hand he had on the clutch and moved it to your thigh

you put your hand on top of his, stroking his skin lightly before your hands intertwined. you felt the roughness of his calloused fingers graze over yours along with the metal of his rings that he refused to go anywhere without 

"you think i'm pretty?" he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips as he glanced over at you

"of course, god broke the mold when he made you," you said with a giggle and eddie rolled his eyes, a real smile stretching over his face 

"that's so cheesy" eddie said with a chuckle. the radio continued to play as you sat in comfortable silence

but it wasn't long before the two of you were talking about everything and anything as you usually would end up doing but you secretly loved it, to you it proved you would never run out of things to talk about 

before you knew it, you had arrived at your usual spot in lovers lake. it was a small, quiet area that you hadn't seen too many people in but it was perfect for the two of you. there was enough room for the van to be parked on the side of the road, and your usual spot sat in a clearing of bushes which provided some privacy which was nice. it was also close to the water which gave the right amount of ambience to your dates with eddie. it was a peaceful intermission from life everytime you came here and that's why it soon became your favorite 

of course during the break up, you were very upset you couldn't go there to think, just out of pure fear you were to see eddie here with some other girl. but you didn't know what was worse, running into him on a date with another girl in your spot, or seeing him there all alone and not being able to be with him sitting on the shoreline 

you and eddie took your stuff from his van and walked down to where you normally set the blanket and you had a sense of deja vu wash over you 

"agh i'm getting deja vu" you spoke, setting down the blanket which made eddie chuckle

"i just take it that if it was meant to happen before you're where you're meant to be right now" eddie said setting up the food, and you laughed 

"when did you become so wise?" you asked in surprise and eddie shrugged with a smile 

"somewhere on the walk from the car to here" eddie joked

-

the sun had set, the food was finished, and the music was playing from one of eddie's transistor radios he had from his van

you were leaning against eddie who was sitting against a tree, giving you the perfect view of the lake while eddie's arms wrapped around you 

the song on the radio changed and suddenly you were listening to the familiar tune of 'your song' by elton john

"ugh i love elton, but this song is so cheesy and overplayed" you complained to eddie

"can i tell you a secret?" he responded causing you confusion on his response 

"yeah?" you told him

"i actually kinda like this song" he said with a sheepish smile 

"what?" you said in surprise and he nodded, shifting his position to get up, offering a hand to help you up from your spot 

you stood up as he gently pulled you in close, your hands were on his chest as his arms snaked around your waist, and he rested his hands on your lower back 

he started to dance with you as the lyrics flowed, and your heart skipped a beat as he started to sing along

'I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do My gift is my song, and this one's for you'

he quickly kissed you between verses before he continued to sing to you, gently swaying you back and forth as you laid your head on his chest, putting your arms around his neck 'And you can tell everybody this is your song It may be quite simple, but now that it's done I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words How wonderful life is while you're in the world'

you started to tear up a little bit just from the amount of pure love for the man in front of you. he moved his head to get your attention just to sing you your favorite line from the whole song 

'yours are the sweetest eyes i've ever seen'

you smiled and looked away, blushing as he continued to sing along until the song ended and the two of you stood there in each other's arms, the radio switching to some other song while hearing the light waves from the lake splash onto the edge of the ground where you stood

"i guess its not such a cheesy song after all" you muttered, wiping a tear from your cheek

"guess not" eddie agreed, leading to another few minutes of silence of standing there with each other which was pure bliss after the hell you've encountered the past few weeks, before eddie spoke again 

"it's all true though" he said and you responded with an intrigued "hm?"

"the song, it's true for me. you make life the most wonderful thing to experience just because you're here with me, and i can't say it enough but i love you more than life y/n" he said, locking eyes with you

you gently cupped his face, kissing him with such passion you were sure it would break the world record for the amount of love shown through a kiss. he kissed you back, pulling you in close like he would lose you the second he let go. your hands tangled in his hair as your tongues explored each other's mouths like it was new territory. 

when you finally pulled away for air, eddie kept you close, leaning his forehead against yours and rubbing a hand on the back of your neck. he kissed your forehead lightly before pulling away, looking at your fingers entangling with his

he quickly pulled away and turned around before he whipped back around and got down on one knee, holding up the ring he always wore on his right hand. the one he stole from his mom's jewelry box when he was 12 but she ended up letting him keep it, finding it endearing he wanted to wear it

"y/n, this is a promise that no matter how stupid i am, that we always work things out, and we stay that way no matter what. i love you and never want to let you go and as a token of my promise, and my love and appreciation, will you please wear my ring and be mine again?" he asked, looking up at you, the lyrics of having the sweetest eyes you've ever seen coming to fruition with his chocolate brown eyes staring into yours

"eddie i-" you started to feel the tears fall down your cheeks as you stopped yourself, a small giggle coming from your mouth 

"i love you eddie, yes of course" you said as you stretched out your hand to meet his as he slipped the ring onto your ring finger. it fit a little too perfectly, causing your heart to flutter. 

he stood up, picking you up and spinning you around as you let out a laugh squeal combination, before putting you back down on the ground, holding your face as you leaned into his hand, watching his eyes look at you with a look of admiration 

"one day i'll write you my version of your song, and it'll be all for you" he said with a smile 

"will it include cheesy lyrics?" you laughed and he nodded

"naturally" 

fin.

#munsons-melody #stranger things #eddie munson #dustin henderson #steve harrington #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you

[shamrockqueen]

B-Movie

Pairing : Werewolf Bucky x reader

Warnings : Noncon, stalking, abandoned, smut, R18

Word count : 3237

AO3 Link

You didn’t even want to leave the house tonight, let alone drag yourself all the way to the cineplex to watch a crummy B-Movie. You just didn’t want to be home all alone on a Saturday night, but being all alone at the movies didn’t seem any better.

It’s some old, cheesy horror movie that sucked more and more every second you had to watch it. The fact that you didn’t have anything better to do was the only reason you stayed this long.

The young couple on the screen cuddled up in a car as a cheap howl rang across the screen. The girl gets all flustered and goes, "Did you hear that, Brad?"

"Hear what, Janet? I’m sure it’s just a dog." The cliche football player boyfriend tried to reassure her.

"I don’t know Brad; it sounded big." She said with a scared huff.

The acting was bad to say the least, and you wanted to reach through the screen and slug one of them in the face each time they opened their mouth. You really didn’t know how much more you could take.

The couple got back to canoodling before a ‘werewolf’ that looked more like a roll of shag carpet popped up between them and they started screaming. Dark gray splatters of blood flung around the black and white screen as the creature clawed up the once-horny 18-year-olds.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You understand the kitschy nature of these old movies, but this was just hard to watch.

There weren't a lot of people in the theater with you, and you were certain that there wasn’t anyone behind you when you sat down. Yet, as a warm brush of air grazed the back of your neck, you heard someone whisper in your ear. "What are you doing here all by yourself?"

You nearly choked on your popcorn, hacking and coughing just to catch a breath of air. It prompted someone from the audience to turn back towards you and shout, "Shut up."

You ignore the jackasses in the front row and whip your head around to try and find who had invaded your personal space. But, no one was behind you; in fact, the whole back half of the theater was empty.

It had to have been nothing, a prankster, or a figment of your imagination. You turned back towards the screen with a huff to watch the 'werewolf’ attack some pedestrians.

You shook your soda, feeling it was still pretty full, before taking a sip and watching the crummy rug monster lumber across the screen as people ran away from it.

You felt that breath on your skin again before you heard that deep, disembodied rumble of a man’s voice. "So unrealistic. You’d never be able to outrun me."

This time, you swung your elbow as you turned towards the voice, only to find no one yet again. You studied the darkened corners of the empty back rows for a solid second, and you swore you could almost see something. A solid mass in one of the seats at the far back with a faintly sharpened gaze pointed directly towards you.

It makes the hair on your arms stand on end as goosebumps pricked at your skin and your body turns stiff. All the while, you stared down what you hoped to be an imaginary figure before turning back to the screen to see the crappy werewolf being shot at by an angry mob.

You couldn’t pay attention to it anymore, nor to the thought of something lurking behind you in an almost empty theater. When you noticed a group of people near the front step away from their seats and grumbling about the movie, you took this as an opportunity to slip out of the theater hidden within a small group.

You grab your stuff and just leave, glancing back for almost a second. There wasn’t anything back there this time, but you weren’t taking any more chances.

You toss your popcorn in a nearby bin as you exit the theater, hiding behind the group of strangers as they all walk off towards their own cars.

You have to scuttle away in the opposite direction, where the parking had been free. It wasn’t too bad of a walk while the sun was still up, but now with the moon high in the sky and a chill already running down your spine, it was an unnerving trek just so you could go home.

You shook the soda cup you still held onto, listening to the ice sloshing inside to gauge how much coke you had left to drink. It was a good amount, and you sipped at it from the straw as you hoofed it all the way back to your car.

You sucked down your coke until you heard the telltale sputtering noise that signified that the cup was finally empty. You gave it another light shake, only to hear the ice knocking around inside before taking a final water sip.

You stopped walking, but only for a second, so you could find a public trash can to dump your cup. But, as your sneakers stopped hitting the pavement, you heard the continuation and abrupt stop of someone else’s footsteps. You stand still for a second before slowly twisting your back to peek over your shoulder to see what might have been behind you.

Nothing.

The only thing to grace your vision was the dark and empty street of your small town; an image you’d seen many times before seemed so ominous as of now. You pull your eyes away from the street behind you before spotting a trash can by the door of the next storefront.

You take a few careful steps closer to the can until it’s within range to toss your cup. The cup hits the edge of the opening before ricocheting right into the trash. A lucky shot, and after the cup's clunky descent, the streets are eerily quiet again.

You had to stop yourself from letting your heart beat out of control as you searched the shadows for any other mysterious figures like those you’d seen at the back of the theater. Alone on a Saturday night, you're so scared that you could have pissed yourself, and it turned out to be nothing. You recall the shitty movie and laugh at yourself for letting something so poorly made affect your nerves like this.

You pick your feet up and start walking again, eager only to get home. That's when you hear the footsteps far behind you more clearly, like a soft weight hitting the concrete some distance away. You have to ignore it, for your own sanity at least, but you pick up your pace without another thought. You don’t want to turn back only to see nothing or have your eyes trick you like they did before.

The heavy thumps of something far behind grew closer and faster to the point that it could no longer be ignored, no matter how badly you wanted to pretend it was just the simple sounds of a small town after dark.

But, it wasn’t. Hard pads were hitting the sidewalk, drawing far too close for your nerves to withstand.

You let yourself steal a glance over your shoulder as you walked a little faster. The black mass of dark hair and teeth a few yards away nearly made your heart stop. You don’t take note of too many more details, opting instead to break out into an immediate sprint. Your body is given no time to adjust, making it hell on your knees as your little legs propel you towards the old parking lot where you left your car.

The mass sped up, but only to match your pace, letting your little rabbit heart tire out until you became easy prey.

You try to make some unprompted turns and twists in a fruitless attempt to lose sight of that creature, but even as you lose sight of it, you can still hear its heavy steps not far behind. Your hopes were dashed even further once the tip of your shoe caught the lip of a pothole, tripping you, so you went skidding onto the pavement, tearing the fabric of your jeans just a little on your knees.

You only lay there and hissed at the sharp new pain, and your blood pressure pounded in your ears almost as loudly as the padding of the monster's feet as it drew nearer and nearer. It finally rounded the corner of the alley more slowly, almost as if to play with your fear all the more before finally leaping upon you. In this short moment before the tears could cloud your vision, its full form came into greater detail. Claws clacking on the cracked, stony pavement of the alleyway.

Thick fur coated its whole body, darkening it aside from a dangling pair of metal dog tags and torn denim jeans barely holding together around its solid legs. It leapt over you to land at your feet before planting his solid clawed hands on either side of your head.

Its muzzle is short, its skin is oddly gray, and although the hair is thick, the hard muscles of his arms and torso are felt immediately as it pins you down with its weight alone. Long, sharp nails tear into your shirt and jeans, but be more careful of your skin and only scratch the surface instead of digging into your flesh.

You scream into the night, your voice bouncing off broken brick and rusted metal with no one to hear it. All as you're rendered completely vulnerable to a creature that surpasses imaginable horror after your clothes are torn into strips of fabric.

An inhuman voice seemed to rumble from somewhere deep in his chest, almost like the animal was calling to you while it hovered above. Then its neck and joints started to crack and twitch, with ribs breaking in on themselves and muscles contracting as the mounds of hair shrank back along its skin. The sounds of pain that rang from its open maw nearly drowned out once-echoed screams as the beast mutated while it still caged you under its disgustingly shifting body.

It does give you mere seconds to try and wiggle away. You try to kick at the pavement with your feet with very little success, as his muzzle seems to shrink back into itself. Its face is leaning in as the pointed ears pull back into its head and a more human face comes into view.

It’s clearer to see that his hair is shaggy and hangs by his neck, and with minimal facial hair compared to the beast you had once been looking at. His chest was now bare, save for a little peppering of normal chest hair running from the top of his chest to a thin line at his navel.

Nothing covered him besides a worn-out and torn-up old pair of jeans that had already started to fall from his waist to showcase the deep V of muscle near his groin.

Once the rest of his beastly form melted from his body, he stared directly at you, and you froze.

The fight is drained from your body as the blue of his eyes swims around yours. It leaves your head dizzy and your body stiff and unmoving, as his still-rough treatment carried an odd gentleness to it. Like he knew he would cut right into your skin but didn’t want to.

"You know I saw you, all alone in there." This time the words were coming right from his lips, not deeply distorted from some faraway place, and they bore an eerie resemblance to the hushed voice that spoke to you in the theater.

The monster that lumbered around in that movie was no more than a sheepdog compared to what this man had been. You regretted coming out to see that movie, more so now than ever.

"You seemed so delicate, so..so shy." Something hard pressed against your tightly shut legs, almost thick enough to pry them apart. The realization of what had been pressing against you and had slipped out of his jeans to part his legs for him.

He was sizing his cock against your bare core as his hard arms crowded your head and his teeth dragged along your shoulder.

"We don’t have to be alone anymore." He gritted his teeth as he forced his cock through your tight channel. A very unexpected turn of events sent a strange shock along your spine. You try to move against him, barely succeeding in moving your arms or thrashing your head. Each time you tried, that cold stare would pierce through you like sharp ice, making the blood in your veins freeze up as you were torn around his thick, invasive member.

You nearly bite your tongue as tears come right through until the tip of his cock is forced against the deepest part of you, and you can only turn your head to cry into the pavement.

"I wanna make a monster out of you. Then we can be like that together."

His dirty nails dig into the skin of your neck as he twists your face away from the asphalt as he presses his tight abs against your belly, bumping his cock against that deep, deep part of your cunt again.

The pain was twisting into something horrible inside of you. Like a hot bolt of energy burning in your lower belly, making the rest of your body feel so terribly cold that your fingers were almost numb.

He has you keening, howling, wailing, and screaming louder than you ever had before. You’re torn to pieces as he ties you back together on his cock in a big, tight knot.

He laps at your trembling and whimpering lips before applying pressure to your jaw to pop your mouth open and sliding his thick tongue along yours.

"You’ll be my fucking monster," is growled into your ear as the blood starts to rush to your head while he pumps himself inside of you.

His teeth, several of which were still sharp, pressed harder into the flesh of your neck and shoulder, making you keen and wail against his skin as it suffocated you.

You didn’t feel him tearing into your body; you didn’t feel the hot blood streaming from your throat. All you felt was the snapping of a tight knot that had formed in your core. It tore to shreds, exploding into your veins as he forced a thicker, harder, swollen part of himself into you. It locked you to him as you gushed around his solid member, and he seemed to fill you so full that your stomach swelled a small fraction.

The world around him blurs as his warm hand comes up to cup your face, all before the blackness at the edge of your vision caves in around you, taking with it your consciousness.

Your dreams were empty; hours would go by and your mind would be blank, and you would be almost dead to the world.

The sunlight cutting through the dirty glass of your windshield was what woke you. It took a moment to take hold and shake you from your sleep as it assaulted your eyes. You tried to turn your head only to be shocked by a painful, deep burning in the side of your neck, accompanied by a heavy ache in all of your limbs. You tried to roll yourself out of this uncomfortable sleeping situation with a labored groan as you finally graced the afternoon sun.

You don’t remember having found your car or getting into it to sleep in the backseat. You don’t pay any mind to it, and you don’t pay any kind of attention to a lot of things. Namely, the terrible state of your clothing that was torn so badly that you were practically half naked, nor the massive scabbing gas on the side of your neck and shoulder that bore a horrible resemblance to teeth marks.

You pressed your elbow onto the side of the driver's seat with your other hand digging its nails into the side of the front passenger's seat, all just to drag your heavy, aching body from the back of the car. Somehow your keys were just sitting in your lap, totally unnoticed, and had clunked to the floor as you pulled yourself up.

Your head nearly hit the center console as you let go of the passenger seat to reach those damn keys.

Once they were finally in your grasp, you pulled yourself back up to crawl over the console and into the driver's seat.

You had to catch your breath as the pain in your body vibrated along all of your bones to ache at your joints. You slowly brought the key up to the lock, fumbling a little before getting it in the ignition. You turn the key and let the engine roar to life, finally giving you a new lifeline to get home.

You drove off dazed, weak, and uncomfortable. You were just barely able to drive at all, but you weren’t staying in that parking lot any longer than you had to. Home was the only place you cared to be, injury or no injury. Yet, in the very pit of your stomach, something stirred. It grew more and more during the entire ride home. You nearly ran the car into the garage door, as it was all you could focus on.

You are so fucking hungry!

You feel it from your stomach all the way up your throat. You ran from the car as soon as the engine was off, not paying any mind to how your neighbors would react to your current physical appearance. The car door is left open, and the front door is still ajar after you broke through it when the key didn’t quite go into the lock. But, somehow you got the little piece of metal to align to gain entry to your own home before bolting inside and running directly towards the fridge.

The fridge door is yanked open, and you're digging through everything you can find to bring it to your nose for a quick scent before tossing it.

You’d tossed away tubs of yogurt, lunch meat, and juices behind you, as none suited your new bizarre taste. Nothing seemed to meet your craving until you grabbed a pack of steaks from the middle rung of the fridge. You’d left it in the fridge to thaw for dinner the following day, but as you brought it towards you and took in its red, bloody smell, it was all your senses could respond to.

You tore open the packet and tore right into the meat with your teeth, reveling in the taste of the raw steak and the feel of it on your tongue.

You don’t think anything of this; your mind is just switched off to everything at this point. You don’t even hear the subtle knock of your car door being closed or the louder click of your front door following suit.

The once menacing footsteps that echoed down the street to your demise now went unheard as they padded through your home to find you tearing through your food on the kitchen floor.

This took heavy inspiration from the werewolf transformation scene in Underworld as well as one of the first episodes of Santa Clarita diet.

#fanfiction #fanfic #smut #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky smut #roughfuck #werewolf bucky x reader #werewolf bucky #werewolf #dark bucky barnes #dark bucky x reader #dark bucky x you #dark bucky smut #b movie

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Hey, I love your posts! Would it be possible to request a possessive Shanks x f! Reader x Strawhats/ monster trio? Where the reader is running an errand for Shanks but ends up stranded/injured. The strawhats come along and rescue her. Luffy offers to take her to the rendezvous point. On the way there, the strawhats find out the reader is shank’s gf/crewmate. When they finally meet up. Shanks is a little possessive as the monster trio has taken a liking to her. Thanks so much.

Warnings: possessive Shanks, mean villagers, minor blood and violence (the reader is injured once)

Word Count: 1850

     It’s an easy errand, he said. You’ll be fine, he said. Now, leaning against an alley wall, clutching your bleeding arm while the angry mob searched for you, you couldn’t help but curse your dumbass boyfriend. Apparently this ‘easy errand’ didn’t take into account the fact that this island hated the Yonkos with every fiber of their being. You hadn’t even been sailing under Shanks’s flag when you arrived, but you’d long since gotten his jolly roger tattooed on your hip. When one of the villagers noticed the top half poking out of your pants, they’d immediately started shouting at you, spitting accusations, and getting generally violent. They were just innocent villagers, you hadn’t wanted to hurt them, no matter how much they hated you. So instead of fighting, you’d run. Run, hide, get found, repeat. For the time being, however, they seemed too frenzied to check the small alleyways. It wasn’t their fault. They’d had bad run-ins with the worst of the yonkos, when 2 of the 4 yonkos trash your home, a relatively new one was as bad as they came, a previous one had been a terrifying mountain of a man know as ‘the strongest man alive’, and the other just looks mean, well, was it any surprise you’d been attacked? They couldn’t attack the yonkos directly, but they could attack you. Sighing, you closed your eyes for a moment. Just a moment of rest, that’s all you needed.

     “What’re you hiding from?” a voice asked, making you jump out of your skin. Had they found you again? Looking over, you noticed a boy with black hair and an all too familiar straw hat. You knew the boy, Shanks had his wanted poster plastered in the dining hall, carefully placed on his desk, and one more hung from his wall. He was so proud of Luffy and his success. He was looking forward to their reunion when Luffy was a great pirate. The news had placed him as a new Yonko, he’d defeated both Big Mom and Kaido. He was very well on his way to becoming the ‘great pirate’ than Shanks looked forward to seeing. Letting your heart calm down a little, you nodded.

     “Isn’t it obvious? The frenzied villagers with gardening tools from hell didn’t give it away?” you asked, still holding your bleeding arm. The result of a particularly nasty hook blade, if you had to guess, likely used to trim trees and bushes, the sap and liquid chlorophyll causing your wound to sting and burn.

     “Shishishi, yeah, Nami said I should stay hidden so they won’t attack me. But why’d they attack you?” he asked, head tilted to the side. You chuckled and shook your head.

     “Out of your entire crew, you’re actually the least likely to be attacked. The villagers aren’t stupid, they know they can’t fight a yonko. A yonko’s crew member, however…” you pulled the waist of your pants down slightly, revealing the jolly roger.

     “You’re on Shanks’s crew?! You have to come with us!” Luffy said excitedly, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the alleyway and down the street. Sure enough, the moment the mob saw Luffy, they scattered, hiding in the various nearby buildings, fearing the boy’s wrath. Sitting on the deck of the Sunny, you let the little reindeer tend to your wound, the antiseptic making you flinch. The Sunny had set sail a few hours ago, loaded up with supplies that the villagers had fearfully given to the crew, afraid of what would happen if they didn’t. Luffy had still insisted on paying them, the boy just as kind as Shanks had described. You were thankful for the boy, the villagers having set fire to your own little boat. The crew surrounded you, bombarding you with questions that you answered as best as you could between small ‘ah’s of pain from Chopper tending to your injury. The blond, Sanji, had offered to hold your hand for comfort, stating that ‘a beautiful woman shouldn’t have to suffer in such a manner’. All you could think was that Luffy’s crew was as sweet and interesting as the boy himself, even Zoro, as standoffish as he was, was as kind to you as the others, complimenting your strength and willpower to not just ‘deal with’ the villagers. 

     Laying on the grass of Luffy’s ship, you couldn’t help but smile. You’d have to convince Shanks to put some grass on the deck of the Red Force, it was surprisingly comfortable as you let the sun warm you. The crew had agreed to take you to a rendezvous point to meet back up with your beloved boyfriend, Luffy’s eyes nearly leaving his head when he found out that you were involved with the red-headed captain. 

     “Y/n, you said you were good with armament haki, Luffy won’t train with me because it isn’t ‘fun’. I could use your help.” Zoro said, one hand resting on his swords.

     “I don’t mind, but is such a small ship really a good place to be practicing? I doubt Franky would be too pleased if you tore up his ship.” giving him a raised eyebrow. 

     “The work out room is reinforced and I’ll be holding back a bit, but I need someone that can handle my attacks.” he said, making you smile at the compliment. It might not sound like your typical compliment, but you could see it for what it was as you got up and dusted yourself off.

     Holding the knife in your hand, you helped the blond chef chop vegetables. You were surprisingly skilled in the kitchen. Perhaps not as skilled a chef as he was, but better than what he’d expected after hearing about the, often drunk, red-hair pirates. 

     “Y/n-swan, will you try this for me?” Sanji asked, holding a spoon out for you. You smiled and tasted the food, your eyes lighting up in delight.

     “It’s amazing, Sanji! You’re such a great cook! Luffy’s really lucky to have you on his crew!” you said happily, making the blond melt. You were always so sweet and to the entire crew too! Even to that annoying, moss headed, brute of a swordsman. 

     “You’re the amazing one, Y/n-chwan! You’re so sweet and kind. To find such an amazing woman on the crew like Shanks’s, it’s no wonder he’s so taken with you.” he said, his flattery making you blush a little. He was sweeter than sugar and a damned flirt, he reminded you of Shanks in some ways, a shameless flirt yet sweet and adoring. 

     Your laughter carried across the ship as you joined Luffy in some game that you, honestly, didn’t understand one bit, but were having fun all the same. The boy’s laughter and happiness were infectious, making those around him as happy as he was.

     “You’re losing, Y/n!” Luffy said with his signature little laugh, making you smile.

     “Well of course I am, I’ve never played this before. Besides, who cares if I’m losing so long as we’re having fun. The only time a person is truly losing is when they’re not enjoying the company of friends.” you said, making the boy’s eyes light up. He liked the sound of that, liked how you enjoyed his games and antics as much as he did. He enjoyed how much you smiled and laughed, how generally happy you were and kind you’d been to everyone. Honestly, he didn’t want you to leave anymore, he wished he could just keep you on the Sunny and not return you to Shanks. 

     Landing on the island, you smiled as you jumped from the railing of the ship, not even bothering to give Franky time to lower the gangplank, Luffy laughing as he followed right behind you. Zoro and Sanji, having grown very close to you over the last couple of weeks, were right behind you, not wanting you to run off without them. As soon as you spotted the familiar red hair and tacky pants, you were moving at a dead sprint, throwing yourself into your boyfriends arm, said arm wrapping around you and holding you tight.

     “Did you miss me, baby?” you asked, giving him a soft kiss as you enjoyed simply being together again.

     “So much that I wasn’t able to enjoy my booze without you.” he said, making you giggle. Considering how much Shanks liked to drink, that was saying something. 

     “Well how about we have a small party with Luffy’s crew to celebrate? You two can catch up and you can enjoy your liquor again. Zoro might even give you a run for your money on how much you can drink.” you said with a small laugh.

     “What if I just want to sit and spend time with you? Do you know how long it’s been since I got to hold you?” he whined as he nuzzled his head against the top of your own.

     “I do, but I thought you might want to catch up with Luffy. Besides, you should meet his crew, they’re sweet.” you said, making the man pout.

     “Just how much time did you spend with them? Didn’t you think about how much I missed you?” he asked, giving you his kicked puppy look.

     “Of course I did, I missed you every second! But I had to distract myself to keep myself from missing you too much and sulking, so I got to know how great Luffy’s crew was.” you said, making the three boys smile. They’d enjoyed your company and knowing that you enjoyed theirs made them surprisingly cheerful.

     “She’s right, we really should celebrate, I can make everyone something to eat. Besides, we can’t just let Y/n-swan leave with just a simple ‘so long, see you later’.” Sanji said with a charming smile.

     “I’d like to see if she’s right about how much you can drink. She said you can drink more than her and we’d share a few after she helped me train.” Zoro added.

     “Besides, don’t you like to party and drink, Shanks? I bet it would be even better with Y/n!” Luffy said, with a huge smile. Each comment from the boys had Shanks’s hold on you growing tighter and tighter, holding you possessively. Chuckling, you shook your head at the man. You knew how he could be, knew that he could get possessive at times.

     “I’m sure Shanks would love to celebrate, but we should keep this reunion short. Luffy, you and Shanks agreed that you’d meet again when you were a great pirate, but I think you should become even better before we truly enjoy a party together. I know you don’t want to just say ‘so long, see you later’, so how about we’ll meet again soon?” you suggested, wiggling free of your boyfriend’s hold, giving Luffy a hug, Sanji a pat on the head, and Zoro a light punch to the shoulder before leaving with your boyfriend as the 3 straw hat boys sulked. They’d have to find a way to ‘run into’ you again so they could spend more time with you.

#one piece #one piece shanks #op shanks #red haired shanks #red haired shanks x reader #red hair shanks x reader #akagami no shanks #akagami no shanks x reader #one piece luffy #one piece sanji #one piece zoro #op Luffy #op Sanji #op Zoro

[writing-yarn-goblin]

It’s November but I’ll do whatever the [redacted] I want!

Eustass KidxReader

Relationship: not established

Fairytale AU

Word count: 4K and up.

Warning: violence, gore, mentions of religion, trauma and blood (plus Kid’s killer grin.).

Enjoy! ❤️

“Gotta run, gotta run, gotta RUN!”

Was the only thing you could whisper to yourself as you were running through the forest. Your village had sent you out to die when they noticed that your remedies for illness were a little too effective and blamed you for witchcraft.

This had been going to days. You barely ate or drank anything in order to survive the ordeal.

You had no choice but to run. The forest was dark but the lit torches were closer and closer with every sprint you took.

The red cloak you were wearing was rushing behind you like a phoenix in flight as you kept running.

You knew that the forest was dangerous, it harbored fearsome creatures of the night that could rip you to pieces.

But you didn’t care.

You’d rather die trying than die unjustly in the hands of an angry man who condemned you with promises of the water trial and, if found more guilty, purification by fire.

This was not the way you intended to go out. Just because you refused to marry a man twice your age, unhappy and enslave those whose sole purpose is making babies to ensure his bloodline will continue.

That is a hell on earth only reserved for those with the ability to create children.

Your legs were wobbly, your chest was tight and the bite of the cold was nipping at your tear stained cheeks.

You kept running as fast as your bare feet would take you. You could with scratches and infections later- right now, you were running.

You spotted a tree with a hollow cavity underneath, dark enough to hide and big enough to be put for a few hours. You had grabbed branches and swept the floor, hiding your footprints and carefully went inside the cave.

“Be still, my beating heart.” You whispered to yourself, trying to comfort yourself as the villagers came to a stop to where you were.

When the chatter of the villagers was gone and the soft glow of torches was far, you peaked out of your hole.

Presumably safe from the terrors that your kind was promising you.

You dusted yourself from the ground and sticks on your clothes and continued running away. You didn’t want to give them the benefit of catching up.

The middle of the night had finally descended upon the forest and patches of moonlight were your only guide. The clearing in the middle of the woods seemed to be lonesome as you finally took a drink of water.

You ripped a bit of the dress you were wearing in order to make a makeshift rag to clean your face, arms and legs to check for scrapes.

Thankfully, nothing too severe.

The crickets stopped singing, however. You felt your skin rise and prickle up, goosebumps they called it. The feeling of being watched was looming in your brain and like a skittish animal: you were ready to flee.

“Won’t do ya any good, witch.”

You heard the dark say, amber eyes only glowing between the thickness of the trees.

“If you sprint: the villagers will catch ya, and they’ll kill ya thrice if you try.”

You gulped.

“Can you help me?”

“Can I? Maybe.”

You could hear the sadistic laugh that came from the foliage.

“You’d better be off dead than being helped by me. I’ll work ya to the bone, break you till you beg me to stop and I’ll make sure that everyone can see who you belong to now.”

This posed a problem. You didn’t escape a mob that wanted to marry you into servitude just to be enslaved by someone else.

“You’re better off kik-killing me.” You stuttered, eyes watering and getting ready to flee once again. “ I didn’t run from that man just to be treated with less freedom than he offered.”

The voice cooed.

“Well, how about a wager? You run as fast as your little legs can. And if I find you by the end of the witching hour- You’re mine to do as I please. If I don’t, then you’re free.”

You didn’t answer, your legs just sprung to to life as you ran away as fast as you could. The red cloak still fluttering behind you as you ran. Mouth shut, eyes focused and thoughts long gone.

You were tired, running out of pure fear once more and now- you were hunted down by something far worse. You skipped, hopped, climbed and dodged the forest and its creatures, you weren’t a stranger of it’s dangers.

The chase was almost reaching its end as the witching hour was drawing to a close.

You felt relief washing over you.

Mere minutes from closing the wager, you heard a howl in the distance and the squeak that left your lips was more pitched than you thought. You tried to run but your legs have out, the exhaustion was making its way to you and now- tired.

The howls kept crawling closer as you tried to hide. Crawling down a hole underneath a tree, tucking your knees under your chin- you were finally succumbing to your desires to rest.

“Aww, the pretty thing is tired.” You heard from outside. You couldn’t care anymore. If this was going to be your life then so be it.

You could always escape again.

Or at least die trying.

“It’ll all be over soon, sweetheart.”

You hoped. You felt the exhaustion win, eyes fully closed and deep in slumber.

You dreamt of a void. It was quiet and warm, then forest was tuned out. The sounds of crickets lulled you to sleep and the soft rise and fall of your breath was the only noise remotely human.

~*~

It was calm.

The smell of burning wood seemed to gear your senses into overdrive as you woke up violently. The beating of your heart was so fast you thought you’d have a heart attack.

“You’re a heavy sleeper, witch.”

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. It took you a few moments to notice that you were on a hay and goose feathers bed, covered with a heavy red blanket and the scent of smoke & pine were blowing your senses away. From scared to relax, but still deeply disturbed.

You turned your head towards that voice’s proprietor and couldn’t help but blush.

Toothy grin, sharp amber eyes and, most importantly, half naked torso. Sitting in front of you as he saw you cover yourself more for some reason.

His dwelling was just a hut and it was very decorated with what you thought were trophies of previous struggles.

“W-Where’s the wolf?”

“I am the wolf, witch.”

“But you look nothing like a wolf!”

You regret those words escaping your mouth.

“Really? I have eyes to see you better, sharp nose to smell you better and a big Ol’ mouth to taste ya better- and you say I don’t look like a wolf?”

You felt the blush creep up to your face.

“Werewolves are supposed to be horrid creatures. Not pretty men with red hair.”

You swore you could see the man before you blush momentarily.

“Witches are supposed to be ugly old women. Not a pretty thing in a red cape.”

This baffled you.

“I’m no witch. I’m just (Y/N).”

You felt a little weird saying it.

The tension rose when your captor rose from his seat, eyes almost pinning you to bed.

“Get to sleep. I need you up an’ runnin’ later.” And with that he left the hut. It was probably mid afternoon by the way the dark hut was illuminated and then back to dark.

“I’m not a witch…” you mumbled once more as you felt the tug of sleep pull at your body. This nameless man promised that you’ll be worked to the bone later.

Although this is still captivity, for some reason, this felt like okay.

~*~

As days went by, you fell into habit little by little.

He didn’t say his name, but you’ve heard others say it.

You would only call him ‘Sir’.

The others in this makeshift village seemed to be wary of you at first, but they quickly warmed up to you and you to them. They were just a band of misfits and you seemed to be able to blend into their own culture without a problem.

Everything was going well until full moon, which was tomorrow.

You were sitting on the floor of your captor’s hut as you were weaving a few of the tattered clothes he gave you to fix.

You were pretty decent at it, too.

“Witch.”

“Sir?”

You saw how the man came back into the hut with what looked like his second in command.

“I need you to stay inside and whatever you do- don’t go outside tonight if you can avoid it. Need to piss? Here’s a bucket.” You didn’t say anything as you accepted the surprisingly clean bucket. “If you get in trouble, throw them the bucket.”

“C’mon, Kid. Leave the girl a knife or something.” You heard the blonde, Killer, say to the red headed brute. The red head just growled and stabbed a small knife on the little table he had by the hay bed.

“Fine. But if she escapes, it’s on your head.”

“I won’t escape.” You mumbled, you could see from the corner of your eye how the scruffy blonde was more amused than annoyed.

“Whatever, let’s go. Remember: piss bucket, throw the bucket if you get attacked. And DO NOT GO OUTSIDE. Got it, Witch?”

You didn’t answer as fast as you’d like as you felt rough fingers grasp your cheeks as you jaw rested in the palm.

“I said something. TALK.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, WHAT?” you felt him squeeze you harder.

“Yes, Sir.” You mumbled, the grip on your face loosened and felt his face come up extremely close to yours.

Only to hear him whisper- “Good girl.”

And with that he left the hut.

Killer saw how your eyes started to water and coughed awkwardly.

“You know how to use a knife?” Killer asked.

You nodded.

“Good. If you get attacked, dip the knife in the bucket if you used it and stab them with it. If it’s shit, it’ll infect the wound faster.“ you nodded as he explained. “Don’t die on us, girly. Good luck.”

With that you were left to your devices for the night.

The whole night you were on your guard. You heard noises in the dark and growls that raised the skin into bumpy roads for your anxiety to manifest. The urge to scream was muted when you kept repeating to your heart to be still.

As dawn came, you just warily stared at the entrance.

Nervous for your captor and his people.

Nervous that someone else might come back.

Nervous for a villager to steal you to your doom.

You felt your eyes drop for a moment, the exhaustion was high on your mind and you decided that you could still be aware and just rest your eyes for a minute.

“If you sleep, the big bad wolf will eat you whole.” You heard a whisper, tickling your brain slightly, taking a few seconds to jump start and the feeling of your heart jumping out of your body through your mouth was the only thing you react to.

You gave the man responsible a glare. But sadly, he just found it funny and laughed in your face.

“Were you up all night waiting for me or were you scared shitless?”

“The latter…” you whispered, stretching your neck a little. “I just closed my eyes for ten minutes.” You mumbled, earning a hum from him and you sighed.

“Enough to never wake up, witch.”

You glared at him, only making him smirk and fall down the haybed.

“Let’s go to sleep, it’s been a long night.”

And to sleep you went, fleeting nightmares still plaguing your head as you just tried to succumb to the void.

However, the red beast noticed that you calm down every time he places his hand against your head. It worked like a charm with the nightmares that got you fidgety

~*~

As the months kept passing, the more used to you were to the camp, and the more welcomed you felt. The women took a liking to you and seemed to be interested in what you could do. After all- this was a place where everyone was useful somehow. Let it be with fighting or something more domestic.

You were currently helping a few of the girls manage their moon-cycles. Thankfully, you had permission to leave the area with someone chaperoning you so you were able to get the herbs you needed to help with the pain.

Your own cycles were manageable most of the time so you had no problem sucking up the pain it brought just so you could help someone worse-off.

This made your current master interested on what else you could do.

“So tell me, witch-“

“Not a witch.” You mumbled, earning a hard tap to your head. You were sitting inside the hut by the bed as you tied your newly acquired boots. A kindness by the guise of ‘it’s Fuckin’ cold’.

“What else you can do?”

This took you a little by surprise.

“I can help cure most common illnesses, I can provide care to those wounded, I can do most domestic activities without a flaw.” You said softly, straightening your skirt a little as you fiddled with your coat.

“Do you know how to make poison?”

This struck a cord, for some reason, your eyes went wide and you looked to the side a little, flustered.

“You do?”

You nodded.

“That’s good.”

A few moments of silence passed and you seemed to perk up a little and decided it wasn’t bad to share with him.

“I can also make explosives, make people sleepy and with the right herb, cause them to hallucinate.”

Interest was fully peaked, but that came a price.

“Would you use it against me?”

“No.”

“Prove it.”

You groaned, getting up from the bed with a defeated look on your eyes.

“If I did, I would’ve been dead months ago.” You whispered, earning a delighted hum from him. “May I please be excused?”

“Aye’.”

And you scurried off.

~*~

As days grew shorter, winter was at its peak and you were given almost complete freedom. You didn’t need a chaperone anymore, always had the knife your captor had given you and, currently, you were foraging winter greens and herbs.

All was going great until you heard the cock of a rifle.

“Well, what do you know- a pretty little thing.”

You could swear you could hear your heartbeat by how loud it was.

You recognized this man.

He was from the village.

“Come along now, poppet. These woods are dangerous. Far too brutal for a pretty thing like you.” You heard him sweet talk you. His voice dropped with want and you wanted nothing from him.

“Y’know- ya look familiar…OH- You’re the witch!” You could see the maniacal look he was giving you and the intentions he had with you grew darker.

“I’ll get a pretty penny if I bring you with me. More so alive.”

You were starting to live the nightmares again.

Those full of fire.

Full of dread.

The only thing you could do at this moment was get up and sprint.

And you did.

You ran as fast as you could. You thought you were gaining an advantage until you felt the bullets graze close to you. You ran in zigzags in order to evade the barrage, and made as less sound as possible.

If you took your cloak off you’d catch hypothermia and possibly die under these conditions.

You were doing so well, camp was so close- the moment you stepped inside the grounds, you felt how the white noise took helm of your senses as you felt something hot impact your left leg.

You were so close. Another shot ran and it was down on your right thigh.

“C’mere, wench. Let’s go back home.” You heard him say, roughly picking you up and throwing you to the sled he had trudged. Happy to have found something so valuable.

The bullets were driving you nuts but the need to survive was bigger. You had to find a way to tell the man that stole you away from the evils of that village to come and find you. As macabre as it was, it seemed like your blood made good ink against the snow. That could help you for a few hours.

~*~

The day was a brutal as it started. Once you were at the village, they had you displayed to the public in just bare tatters. Barely covering your body with nothing but cheap rags and badly fixed wounds.

You didn’t know what you preferred more.

The trial by water or purification by fire.

The scorching iron branding or the tongue piercing.

Now the only thing that you could do was not give them the satisfaction of your misery as you were being lashed down ruthlessly minutes after you were brought into the village.

“You haven’t died yet, obviously you have bewitched the forest and fucked the wolves in order to give yourself sanctuary. But your time is up, wench.” You heard as you were roughly manhandled into a dark room. “Stay put. Enjoy your little time before we take you back down to hell where you belong.” An older man said to you. Gloating on how the fire was going to burn hot when it scorched your skin.

You felt as the cold bit against your skin.

The time for your execution came faster than you thought that Your relationship with your current master was improving as you would. He still called you a witch, but you came to appreciate the way he said it. It was heartwarming for you when he would share his stories with you. How he’d still be an ass but had somewhat your best interest at heart. Taking the time to sit with you and learn new things.

But now it was useless to reminisce about the good times. The stage was propped up, the hay and wood was ready for your departure as you stood on top of the stage, tied again a pole with your arms backwards as the villagers just screamed and hollered for your death.

“Any last words?”

“Sir…” you mumbled, not using his name. Because even if things were going well, you still didn’t have permission to use his name. Or at least you thought you didn’t have the right to do so.

Just as they were going to ignite your death bed, they heard several howls surrounding the village.

The villagers were quiet as they saw what could be the most terrifying sight for them and the most beautiful sight for you.

There he was.

2.03 meters of bulging muscles, body built for fighting and a scowl that seemed to be permanently tattooed on his face. His torso was bare but his legs were covered by what you could consider maybe fur. His eyes and ears looked a little different, sharper and pointer. Hands were like claws and his canines were poking out of his mouth. To finish him- he was covered by a massive red fur cloak.

“Wolves!” A hag screeched, causing the village to panic and flail against its new predicament.

“We want the girl.” You heard the red menace say, making you struggle against pole you were tied to. You saw how the torch holder was slowly pushing the fire in his hands against the hay and you struggled harder.

“She’s better off dead.” You heard the village’s judge say- “She is an aberration! Heretic! A witch!” He spat, making the master of your existence laugh.

“Heretic? What happened to love thy neighbor?”

“She’s a witch! A bride of Satan!”

The fire was licking your feet now and the smoke was going up to your face.

“Let her perish!” The hag wailed.

With a swift command, Killer had you in his arms. Legs just slightly burned but you’ll live.

“Thank you…” you mumbled, earning a nod from the messy haired blonde. It didn’t take Killer much to noticed just how bad they left your body. Down to where the bullets were ripped off and treated as badly as possible.

The tattered clothes showed bits of the lashes you received when you stepped into the village, and the man at fault was none other than the man you denied your hand to.

“Kid, we need to get her back now. Those wounds are going to start festering.” Killer mumbled to his leader as he arrived next to him.

“Wounds?” You felt as he lifted your rags carefully and saw how your gashes were just getting worse with the cold. “Fuck.”

“Eustass?” You mumbled, quickly being shushed as they gave you a once over.

“Yeah?”

“Not one person is worth saving in this death trap.” You whispered, earning a grin from the giant before you. Teeth big and menacing with his hands clenching and unclenching.

“You said my name. Pretty ballsy, witch.”

You grinned at him, earning you a soft pet of your hair. You heard him whisper softly to you ‘We need to have a talk when I get back home’.

“Killer, take her back.” And he did. Killer had escorted you in his arms towards their camp grounds and the redhead couldn’t do anything else but smile at the villagers.

“You heard the lady. Not one of you are worth saving.”

The screams the werewolf heard were music to his ears. The sound of ripping, gashing, gnashing, thrashing and bashing. The way he slipped, sloped, crashed and burn skin and houses were a symphony of loud nightmares and cruel punishments resounded in the village tonight.

They took something of him, and gave it back broken.

He might as well return the favor.

~*~

Back in the camp, he did a Beeline towards your hut. He thought you were dependable enough to have your own private quarters so he built a small space next to him- for you. He used the best textiles to build and the best commodities to better suit your needs. Along with a chest to store herbs and valuables, with a crafting space for biological weaponry for whenever he asked.

Your red cloak was in bad shape, but he

Could ask one of the women in the camp to patch it up together for you.

He knew Killer plopped you in after getting you checked and looked over. The blonde mentioned that you had fallen asleep, too exhausted from your trials of the day and the harrowing event he so gladly ended.

No one would hurt you again.

No one would call you a witch when not warranted.

But he can’t shake off the feeling of he himself being bewitched by the pretty woman he rescued almost a year ago.

“(Y/N)?” He whispered, entering the hut and sighing when he saw that you weren’t asleep.

Just merely resting your eyes for a few minutes.

“Sir?” You mumbled, stirring from your warm confines and sitting up with much difficulty.

“To you, moving forward, it’s Kid. Eustass Kid. The red snow helped. It was pretty smart.”

“Okay…” you mumbled, now a little more aware that he sat down on your bed and you were partially naked, all bandaged up everywhere. “Is the village…?”

“No more village.”

“Good. They don’t need to put another person through that whole ordeal.” You mumbled. “What now? I’m not very useful in my current state.”

“You get better. We need to train you up and I think you’d be great with long distance firearms. Rifles should be a good start.” Eustass explained.

“You want me around?”

“Always- if you want.” He said without skipping a beat. He asked for your hand, which you gave to him no questions asked. He had wrapped something around your wrist and noticed that he too was wearing one.

It was a bracelet with a wolf’s paw engraved.

“The whole group here has one. Everyone’s different. Except this one-“ he stopped, showing you his, “this one has a twin.”

You decided to look at yours carefully and almost gasped at how similar the two are.

“Why?”

The pleased growl that ripped from his throat was something you found yourself wanting to hear again and again moving forward.

“Don’t you remember our little wager?”

You nodded, finally understanding him.

He fought for his prizes and now he was reclaiming what he won a year ago. With a grin, he got closer to you in bed. Pinning your body against the hay as he dipped you further in.

Making you melt. Your heart was leaping everywhere. You should be terrified.

As any sane person should be.

But your heart just somersaults and chirped happily when he was close to your jaw. His lips dragged up your cheek slowly until he got to your ear.

“You’re mine, little witch. And you’re going to be mine forever.”

The end

#one piece #x reader #reader insert #i am unwell #fem reader #november #kid pirates #eustasscaptainkid #eustass kid #eustass x reader #werewolf #fairytale au #monster au #captain kid

[thisis-an-original-name]

Here is where I stand with the Global Conflict this week (no one asked lmao)

1. The top priority for me is stopping the genocide in Gaza, and, immediately after that, establishing a Palestinian state/two state solution.

2. Hamas isn’t going to peddle any kind of solution/compromise. Hamas essentially took their “We want to kill Jews” treatise and replaced “Jews” with “Zionists” but nothing has changed. If you can’t see that, you’re dangerous and probably stupid.

3. The hostages need to be freed (if they’re still alive, which let’s be realistic, they probably aren’t.) If Netanyahu actually cared about freeing the hostages, he would have done it by now, and a large number of Israelis recognize that.

4. Recognition of the hostages/ October 7th and recognition of the genocide/ deeply awful conduct of Israel can and SHOULD coexist.

5. Joe Biden is a useless little bitch. Having him as President again would still be better than four more years of Trump.

6. The Met Gala was not orchestrated by Big Zionism to distract from the invasion of Rafah and saying that it was is just blatant antisemitism. That being said, the Israeli military does frequently carry out large strikes on nights like the Met Gala and the Super Bowl when they know that the American news cycle will be focused on something else. Both things can be true. Also, the Met Gala is inherently a stupid thing to get excited about I’m sorry.

7. Student protestors do often fall into traps of antisemitism and say shit that could potentially harm Jews. What else is going to happen, when you gather a bunch of 19 year olds and tell them to yell as loud as humanly possible? That being said, I do have to believe that a vast majority of college protestors have good intentions AND, most of all, even if they don’t, censoring them and spraying pepper spray in their eyes is draconian behavior that the history books will not look kindly upon.

8. I’m so on the fence about boycotts, especially Eurovision. Because on one hand, banning Palestinian flags and keffiyeh’s from the performance is wrong. And I don’t think that Israel should be allowed to compete considering everything that the government is doing, like Russia was banned in 2021. That being said, it does make me sad that this 19 year old girl wrote a song about losing friends and family on October 7th and in response, she’s been booed and told to stay in her hotel room lest the angry mob tears her apart.

9. I do think that celebrities have some level of responsibility to use their platforms for good. That being said, this is such a complex issue that I almost don’t fault some people for not making a 250 character Twitter statement. I don’t think the dying children of Gaza care much if you block Zendaya or Olivia Rodrigo on Instagram. It also gets ridiculous when you go in the comments section of creators with like 100k followers and you see people posting Palestinian flags like yeah I’m sorry that blorbo from my shows isn’t personally flying to Gaza to punch Netanyahu in the face.

10. If you punctuate every single acknowledgement of the genocide with “but what about the hostages!!” or GOD FORBID “it’s sad that Hamas made Netanyahu do this” you have been propagandized by your local Hillel. No one made Netanyahu do this except Netanyahu. There’s no way you don’t know that by now. Wiping out Hamas: another thing that Netanyahu probably would have done by now if he genuinely wanted to.

11. Whenever I see lists of “here are the celebrities/professors/writers/guy on the street to block and throw rocks at because he’s a Mean Scary Zionist” I am reminded of the lists of synagogue goers that Nazis used to track down Jews and their families during the Holocaust. Seriously if you’re peddling lists of “Zionists” ripe for demonization you might want to ask yourself what you’re REALLY doing, and why.

12. Fun fact about me: I actually consider myself a Zionist. I do think, historically speaking, that Jews do need a safe place and a homeland to prevent us from being killed again like we seem to be every few centuries or so. I just don’t think that place has to be Israel, and I DEFINITELY don’t think Palestine should be subjugated for it to happen. But whenever I hear “Zionism = BAD” I just cringe a bit because… you keep using that word. I don’t think it means what you think it means

#palestine #israel #jews for palestine #jews against israel #jews against genocide #antisemitism