#what happens when you give the X-Squad drugs

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 12

Warnings: angst, underage drinking, weed, mentions of other drugs, mentions of depression, slut shaming, attempted sexual assault, (reader being kissed, groped and being held forcefully), (she leaves before more can happen) if that makes you feel uncomfortable, you can stop reading this chapter after the moment with Eddie at his trailer!

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader, Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler, slight Eddie Munson x fem!reader (platonic)

Summary: You try to give dating a second chance and quickly come to regret it when you say yes to the wrong boy.

Word count: 9.5k

A/N: shoutout to my bestie @mysticmunson who always always helps me with the best ideas 🤍

series masterlist

-

You feel like time is moving faster than usual. One moment it was the new year and now it’s already the end of march and every day pushes you closer and closer to the last day of high school. You can’t believe that it’s almost over. 

You can’t believe how much has changed in the past six months. 

Had someone told you that you would be graduating without him, a year back, you wouldn’t have believed them. It’s always been you and Steve. No matter how awful he was to you, how badly he treated you, it’s always been you two together. 

You wanted to graduate with him, you wanted to go to college with him or even take a gap year and travel through the country with him – that was the plan. 

But you will graduate without him and you will go to college without him and you will travel without him – he won’t be by your side, he won’t ever be by your side again and you have come to terms with it. You are okay with it, now. 

“Hello?” Robin mumbles, waving her hand in front of your face. 

Blinking, you quirk your brow and look at your friend.

“Huh?”

Robin chuckles at the confused look on your face, she sips on her coffee and scoots closer to you on the bench, reaching for a brownie in the brown paper bag between you two. 

“What’s on your mind?” 

You take a sip of your coffee and avoid looking into her eyes. You’re not about to tell her that you are thinking about your ex boyfriend. 

She chews on her brownie and squints her eyes as she stares at you. 

“Just that I’m going to graduate soon,” you chuckle and look at the lake in front of you. You and Robin decided to spend the afternoon by the lake after getting your favorite treats from the cafe downtown. 

The sun is shining down on you, making your skin feel warm. The water is glistening and you cannot wait to jump into the lake when the weather gets even warmer. 

“Yeah, it’s unfair how you and I just became friends and now you’re already leaving!” 

You chuckle and nod at her words. 

“You should have become friends with Eddie a long time ago!” She mumbles, rolling her eyes, playfully. 

A smile tugs at your lips, “I agree.”

“We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.”

“You think?” You ask. 

She nods, her eyes widen, “yeah, I mean don’t get me wrong, you’re super nice and chill but cheerleaders make me nervous and there’s no way I would have ever approached you!”

And that is why she hasn't hung out with you and your friends yet. Despite you telling her how nice they are, she is still too nervous to get to know them properly. 

You can’t help but smirk at her, “why exactly do they make you feel nervous, Robin?” 

She narrows her eyes, glaring at you, which makes you laugh. 

You know that she is into girls, it’s something she has been worried about telling you, too afraid of your reaction. It also didn’t help that you had only known each other for a little while, she didn’t trust you at first but the more she got to know you, the more she realized that you aren’t like the other popular kids at school. You aren’t judgmental or rude or a bully – far from it. When she saw you standing up for Eddie in front of the whole cheer squad and the basketball team, she knew that you are a real friend, you risked your ‘queen’ status and your place in the popular crowd but you didn’t care. 

She didn’t plan on telling you, she blurted it out after having one too many drinks and when she was sober again, she was afraid of your reaction, all the what if’s ran through her mind – what if you will hate her? What if you will out her to the whole school? What if you will laugh and make her the laughing stock of the town? What if you will be disgusted by her? 

She was overthinking. You didn’t give her much of a reaction, in fact, you were chill as always and treated the subject of her sexuality like it was the most normal thing in the world when it definitely isn’t the most normal thing for other people. You went out for breakfast that day and you had asked her who the ‘lucky girl’ is when you found out about her crush, that’s all. 

And since then, you have only gotten closer and closer. 

She blushes at your question, there are two reasons why cheerleaders make her nervous – 1. They are popular and a little mean and 2. They are hot. 

“You know why,” she mumbles and takes a sip of coffee again. 

You giggle, “yeah, yeah. I get it, cheerleaders are hot.” 

“Eddie thinks so too,” she smirks. 

Now it’s your turn to glare at her, “shut up.”

“Oh come on! You tease me, I tease you back! That’s how friendships work, right?”

“Yes,” you say, “but there’s nothing to tease me about.”

She snorts and rolls her eyes, crossing her leg over the other, she leans back and looks up at the blue sky. 

“I saw you two together, lying beneath the starry sky and running around like two teenagers in love,” she says, dreamily. 

You know that she is talking about the bonfire last weekend. 

Shaking your head, you chuckle at her words and roll your eyes. 

“We’re just friends.”

“Friends who slap each other’s butts?” 

“Exactly.”

She looks down and faces you again, studying your face with a curious look in her eyes. She purses her lips and tilts her head. 

“Okay, seriously though, are you just friends or is there more between you two?” She asks, genuinely. Robin watches the way your brows furrow and the way confusion flashes in your eyes. For a split second, you look lost. 

You hesitate. 

“Yeah, just friends.”

She waits for you to continue, she can tell that you want to say more. 

“But, it’s like, he’s a special friend, you know?” 

Her eyes widen when she sees the flustered look on your face, she slaps your shoulder, “friends with benefits?” She gasps, loudly. 

Your jaw drops and your eyes widen as well, “no!” You almost scream, slapping her shoulder back, “you perv! Why is your mind going there?”

“You should’ve seen the look on your face!” Robin laughs, pushing your hand away. “You two are pretty touchy though so can you even blame me for asking that?”

No. No, you can’t blame her. 

Robin has walked in on you cuddling with Eddie way too many times. He casually takes your hand and intertwines your fingers together. He kisses your forehead, your temple, your cheeks, your hands. He picks you up and drives you home. You sleep in each other’s beds and go on ‘friends’ dates. But, you are friends. 

“I get what you mean,” you mumble. You know what your friendship with Eddie looks like to other people. Your mom thinks you’re dating and so does Steve’s mom and the rest of the town as it seems. “Eddie is very special to me and I love him but differently, not the way I loved him.” You shrug, looking down at your hands. You touch the rings that he gave you. “Things with Eddie just feel natural and good and I feel so safe with him, you know? I-I feel like he was a missing piece in my life because when he walked in, everything just felt better and it’s nice to know that he doesn’t expect anything from me, that what we have now, is enough.” 

Robin’s eyes soften. 

“We can just be together, you know?” 

She smiles at your words. 

“And us being so touchy is just,” you pause, looking for the right word. “Fun? I think we both craved the intimacy and the touch of another person. I never got it from Steve.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, he always pushed me away. He hated cuddling, he never held me, he hated holding my hand. His kisses were rough and he always pushed me away after we had.. sex.”

She frowns. She isn’t surprised to hear about how awful he was to you but it upsets her, you deserve better. 

“What a jerk.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, shaking your head. “I was pretty messed up when he dumped me, I felt miserable and I was so fucking depressed. I shouldn’t have been, he treated me like shit but I still loved him and I still wanted him and if he came back right away, I would’ve definitely taken him back,” you snort, feeling embarrassed to admit that. “But Eddie came into my life and he was just there, he showed me that I didn’t need him. He showed me that friendships and finding other things that make you happy can be enough.”

Robin can tell that there is more behind your words. Nothing will ever replace the hole that someone you loved so much had left in your heart.

“Eddie makes me happy and I just love what we have. He is not like my other friends but he is not like a boyfriend either. I-I can’t explain it.”

Robin sighs but she smiles at you, “maybe you’re soulmates – platonic soulmates!” 

You raise your brows and laugh. 

“I’m sorry if you don’t believe in that stuff but I’m a total believer when it comes to soulmates and twin flames and whatnot.”

“Me too, Robin.”

“Cool,” she grins. 

“Yeah, cool.” You laugh, wiggling your brows, “now we gotta find your platonic soulmate.”

“Ugh,” she rolls her eyes, “they probably don’t exist.”

“Oh, I’m sure they exist,” you say, “I’m sure they’re around here. Maybe both of them are! Your platonic and romantic soulmate.” You smile. 

“I don’t believe that,” she says, blushing. 

“But I do. I got a sneaky feeling that you might find them both soon,” you say, not knowing that there is the actual truth behind your words. 

You look at the lake in front of you, your mind tries to take you back to all your moments here with him but you force yourself to think of something else, someone else, anything that will stop you from thinking about him. 

“Hey,” you nudge her shoulder, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

You hesitate again, not knowing whether it’s worth bringing it up or not. 

“So uh, last weekend, at the bonfire, this guy asked me out on a date. He called me earlier today and asked if I wanna go out with him tomorrow night but I said that I’m not sure, he sounded disappointed and told me to think about it and that he will wait for my call and now I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah,” you mumble, “he used to go to our school, his name is Ray.”

“Okay,” she says, slowly, “why are you not sure?”

You shrug, “I don’t know if I wanna go out with him.”

She wants to ask who you really want to go out with but she doesn’t. 

“You’re not into him?” Robin asks, her blue eyes are filled with curiosity. 

“I mean, he’s hot but I don’t really wanna date anyone right now and I don’t want to have sex.” 

Robin scrunches her face up, looking a little confused. 

“You don’t have to have sex with him and you don’t have to date him.”

“Yeah but they always want sex,” you mumble. 

Disgust flashes in her eyes and she shudders, “do they?”

“Yeah, same with Steve.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean we have known each other our whole lives so maybe it’s not that serious when it comes to him but we had sex on our first date,” you pause, rolling your eyes, “and every girl I talk to tells me that every guy expects to get laid on a first date so..”

“Gross,” she says, sipping on her coffee. 

“Yeah.”

“But you don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. A date can be fun, you can just get to know each other and see if you hit it off, you can laugh together and flirt, do something fun that doesn’t involve kissing or fucking! And a person who is looking for a partner or even just for a companion, won’t want to fuck on a first date,” she says without thinking about her words. 

You don’t know why her words hurt, you don’t hang onto him anymore but to think that he never wanted to date you, that he only wanted to fuck you cuts you deep. Was that all you were good for, sex? Is that why he kept you around, so he could fuck you and take his frustrations out on you? Is that why it was so easy for him to dump you? When he found out that he could have both love & sex, he realized that you were no longer useful to him? 

And it’s not just Steve who made you feel that way, there’s plenty of guys who have tried to get in your pants, before, during and after your relationship with him. Billy Hargrove has to be the worst of them all. 

Her words lingered for the rest of the day, you know that she didn’t mean any harm but it brought back questions that you have always avoided to think about when you were still with him. 

She didn’t notice the sad look in your eyes, too busy trying to convince you to go on a date and have some ‘innocent fun’. You agreed with her, maybe it’s what you really need, some innocent fun. 

You went home after dropping her off, you cleaned your room and you took a long shower, contemplating whether to call or not call him. You tried reading a book but you kept looking at the telephone. 

A part of you wanted to go on that date, the other part was just curious to see how it would all play out. 

In the end, you called him and said yes to the date, he seemed excited and that put a smile on your face but you couldn’t help but feel the hesitation of going out with a guy you are not even that interested in. You had a weird feeling in your chest and in your stomach. 

Something felt off, something felt wrong, very wrong. 

But you were never good at listening to your gut. 

You were good at overthinking though and your mind kept taking you back to him and you couldn’t stand it, you needed a distraction. That’s how you ended up here, on Eddie’s bed with a joint between your lips and a lazy smile on your face. 

The room smells like weed, the cinnamon candle that you have put on his desk and him. The faint sound of some rock song fills the silence, surprisingly he keeps his music on the low today. Eddie is sitting on his chair, writing something in his notebook, something he won’t let you see. His brows are furrowed, lips tucked beneath his teeth, he looks concentrated. 

“What are you writing, Eddie?” You ask, pushing yourself up on your knees, offering him the joint. Instead of taking it from your fingers, he leans closer to you and parts his lips. 

You chuckle and place it between his lips. 

He looks into your eyes, amusement flashes in them when he notices you biting your lip. He takes a drag and closes his eyes for a moment as he inhales. You watch him and remove the joint. You lick your lips, pulling away from him to place the joint in the ashtray on his nightstand. 

Your mind feels hazy, maybe a little too hazy but this is exactly what you wanted. 

Eddie blows the smoke into the air and leans back again, he studies your face. Right now, you look calm and relaxed but you looked tense and worried when you got here, he wonders why. 

“So?” You ask, still waiting for an answer. 

He scratches the back of his neck, his eyes shift away from you, he glances down at his noteback before his eyes meet yours again, “it’s a secret, sweetheart,” he winks.

“Eddie,” you whine, rolling your eyes, “I thought we don’t keep secrets from each other.”

You know it’s nothing serious so you don’t get upset, you could never be upset with him. 

“It’s not exactly a secret, just something I don’t want to show you yet,” he says, smiling. 

“Oh?” 

“Mhmm.”

“Well then, I can relax,” you giggle and lie back again. 

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. He looks back down at his notebook, holding his pen tighter. He looks at the words on the white paper, tilting his head. His eyes flicker back and forth, looking at you and at the unfinished text.

You hum along to the song playing in the background, tapping your fingers against the mattress. You look around his room, eyeing every item as though it’s your first time in here. Your eyes get stuck on the handcuffs adorning the wall. A curious look takes over your face. You have asked him about them before and you felt slightly disappointed when you found out that those aren’t from him being arrested and running away, these are just handcuffs he stole from the equipment at the theater room in school. 

You reach for the joint and take a long drag, letting the smoke invade your lungs slowly. You sit up, still eying the handcuffs. 

Eddie wonders what you are thinking about. He puts the notebook down, propping his elbow against the table as he watches you, curiously. 

“You know what I always wondered?”

“What?” He asks. 

“What it’s like to be a criminal,” you say, giggling. 

He raises his brows in surprise, clearly not expecting this. 

“I kinda wanna know what it’s like to get arrested forcefully, being thrown to the ground and getting handcuffed like in those action movies,” you say as you tilt your head, “I wouldn’t mind getting arrested by Jim Hopper, he’s so hot,” you giggle. 

Eddie can’t help but laugh. You aren’t just joking about being cuffed, you are genuinely curious and he is amused by it. An idea crosses his mind and it doesn’t take him long to get into action, he gets up and walks over to the handcuffs, taking them off the wall, he looks at you with a smirk on his face. 

“You wanna know what it’s like to be cuffed?” He asks as he holds them in front of your face. 

You eye the mischievous look in his eyes, knowing that he has something on his mind, something that has got to do with him cuffing you and you can’t help but feel excitement rushing through you. 

You nod eagerly and it only makes him chuckle even more. 

“You wanna feel like a little criminal and have a cop running after you?” He asks as he bends down, leaning closer to you until his face is directly in front of yours. 

You nod.

“Good cop or bad cop?” 

“Bad cop,” you say, biting your lip. 

He chuckles darkly, he eyes you up and down before he leans closer, he brushes your hair back, his breath hits the exposed skin on your shoulder, his fingertips linger on your skin, “well then, you better run, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

He pulls back and your eyes lock with his again, he is serious about this, you can tell by the look on his face. 

For a moment, you are both silent, both waiting for the other to move. The music is still playing but the room is more silent than ever. Suddenly, Eddie lunges at you and a squeal falls from your lips, you manage to dodge his hands and jump back before he gets ahold of you. You put distance between you and him, crawling back and getting up on the other side of the bed. 

“Ma’am you are under arrest!” Eddie says with a deep voice and a mean look on his face. 

You laugh, loudly but Eddie doesn’t look amused at all. 

“Put your hands behind your back!” 

“What am I under arrest for, officer?” You ask, blinking innocently. 

Eddie frowns, he steps around the bed, trying to get closer to you. 

“That’s chief Munson to you, little lady,” he glares at you, still talking in a deep voice, “and you’re under arrest for being a bad girl.”

You raise your hand towards your lips and laugh. He tries to look mean but his eyes are filled with amusement. He steps even closer but before he can get too close, you get back on the bed and crawl over to the other side. Eddie instantly follows you. Your heartbeat picks up and you slam open the door before you run out into the hallway. 

“Hey!” 

You squeal when you hear him running after you. 

“Get back here, you little shit!” Eddie yells, snorting when he trips over Wayne’s slippers. 

You run into the living room, stopping behind the table by the couch. You are a giggling mess and Eddie thinks it’s cute, he can’t help but smile as he tries to keep the frown on his face. 

“Please chief, don’t arrest me!” You say with a fake whiney voice, “I’ll be a good girl.”

Eddie smirks, “that’s how you talk to the chief?” 

“Yeah,” you say, wiggling your brows. 

The handcuffs in his hands jingle as he flicks them back and forth, walking closer and closer to you which makes you step closer to the couch. 

“You’re only making it worse for yourself, just stay where you are,” he orders, giving you a pointed look. 

“Or what?”

He quirks a brow, grinning at you, “or I’ll have to punish you.”

“Aw, I’m so scared.”

Eddie runs forward and reaches his hand out to grab you but you are quicker than him, laughing loudly when you run away again, bolting back to his room but you don’t expect him to catch you so quickly. Suddenly, his arms are wrapped around your waist, he hooks his leg around yours, bringing you down but making sure that you hit the carpet softly, a surprised gasp escapes your lips, in just under ten seconds he has you pinned beneath his body, holding you against the ground.

You struggle against him but he is stronger than you, he presses your front against the floor and holds your hands behind your back, he straddles you from behind as he puts the cold metal around your wrists, cuffing you. 

“Got ya,” he whispers in your ear, chuckling. 

“Eddie!” You whine, still struggling against him as you try to fight him off. 

You can’t see him but you know that he has a smug look on his face. 

“Y/n!” He mocks you. 

He keeps holding you down, laughing at the way you are struggling and wiggling around. He smirks in satisfaction, “I wish I could take a picture of this,” he jokes as he stares at you and at the way you look beneath him with the handcuffs around your wrists. 

“You perv!” You laugh. 

Your movements cause your skirt to ride up a little and you don’t notice that you accidentally put your panties on display. 

Eddie smirks, ignoring the way his cheeks heat up and the way his stomach flutters.

“Cute polka dot undies, babe. I bet Harrington busted in his pants when he saw these,” he chuckles, staring at your ass. 

You are too high out of your mind to be embarrassed about anything, right now. You finally stop wiggling around, you crane your neck to the side, trying to look at him, “I usually didn’t wear any when we were together.” 

He laughs in surprise, “okay slut,” he jokes causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles. He tugs at the hem of your skirt, putting it back into place, he then looks away, clearing his throat, he gets up and adjusts his pants before he leans down, uncomfortably. Grabbing your waist, he picks you up, laughing at the way you squeal before he puts you back on your feet. He grabs the cuffs, “let’s get back in the cell, little criminal,” he whispers, pushing you through the hallway and back into his room.

You are still a giggling mess when he takes the cuffs off of you and puts them back on the wall. You plop down on the bed and lie down.

“Tell me, are you gonna wear these cute panties for Parker?” He teases you, narrowing his eyes to watch your reaction. Your eyes widen, you sit back up and straighten your back, looking like a deer caught in headlights. 

“W-What? How do you know?” You ask in confusion. 

He chuckles, turning back to face you, he walks towards you, crouching down in front of you. 

“Robin told me that you might want to go on a date with him, I kinda figured you would,” he shrugs. 

Eddie hates the idea of you going out with him. Ray is a jock and from his experience, 99% of the jocks are complete assholes, disrespectful to girls and generally, awful human beings. You dated one before, you don’t need another one to hurt you but he isn’t about to tell you what to do or not do – he should have. 

You blink, looking nervous all of the sudden, you look hesitant and that puts a frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, taking your hands in his, trying to comfort you. 

“I think I made a mistake,” you admit as all the happiness and amusement on your face vanishes, “I-I shouldn’t have said yes to the date.”

You look anxious and that makes him anxious too.

“I don’t think that I’m ready.”

His brown eyes soften, he grips your hands tighter. Eddie thinks that you will never be ready to date anyone else – Steve Harrington is the one and only for you. You may think that you have moved on but he knows that you haven’t, he can still see the love in your eyes when you look at him. You aren’t aware of it and neither is he. 

Eddie clears his throat, trying to say something but you interrupt him. Pinching your nose, you shake your head. 

“I-I don’t even want a boyfriend, right now – let alone another jock! I don’t want to fuck him either, what was I thinking?”

A part of him wants to encourage you to cancel the date, a huge part of him wants to do that, the part that is very protective of you but he doesn’t do it. 

“Sweetheart,” Eddie sighs as he sits down beside you, still holding your hand, “you don’t have to date him or fuck him. And a part of you must’ve wanted to go on that date, otherwise you wouldn’t have said yes, right?” 

“I guess,” you shrug. 

The truth is, you want to know what it’s like to go out with someone who wants you. 

“I’m sure Robin told you that already but you can just go out and have fun, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If the date goes well then great but if he turns out to be an asshole then you can just give him the mean right hook you gave Billy and then you’ll call me, I’ll pick you up and kick his ass and then we’re gonna go to family video, rent some movies and binge on our favorite snacks.”

And just like that, the smile on your face returns and Eddie’s eyes light up. 

“The campaign is tomorrow,” you point out. 

He shrugs, “for you, I’ll cancel any campaign,” he winks and wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his chest. 

You smile and snuggle closer to him, “you’re the best, Eddie.”

“No, you are.” He kisses the top of your head and runs his fingers through your hair, “you know what?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m gonna miss this if you get a boyfriend,” he admits when you both lie down and he pulls you on top of him, “shit, I got used to cuddling you, I need my little spoon.”

You giggle into his chest, “I need my big spoon too.” You place your palm on his chest, propping your chin on the top of your hand, you look into his eyes. “I’m not gonna have a boyfriend anytime soon but you might get a girlfriend,” you whisper, tapping his nose, making him smile.

“Nah,” he mumbles, scrunching his nose up, his eyes shift away for a second, “I don’t think so, I just wanna focus on my music and my friends,” he says, squeezing your waist.

You nod. 

“I get that. I feel the same way, I just wanna focus on myself a-and be by myself.” 

He smiles, he continues to play with your hair, watching you as you reach for his necklace, eyeing the guitar pick. 

“We should just stay single together,” he jokes. 

“I actually love the idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. 

“I’ll still kick Parker’s ass if you need me to,” Eddie says after a moment of silence, making you laugh again. “I hope that you will have a good time though, sweetheart.”

You hope so too. 

You hoped so but at that time you did not know yet that the next night would end up a nightmare. That you would have tears streaming down your face, regretting that you had ever said yes to him. 

-

It’s been a long time since you had been out on a date, you forgot what it’s like to feel the excitement but also the anxiety of going on a first date again. The not knowing of how the night will turn out made you a little nervous. You didn’t know what he had planned and where he would take you but you spent all day picking out an outfit, trying on all your dresses, all your skirts, combining your jeans with your favorite tops. You hated every option, every single outfit felt wrong, even your favorite clothes didn’t feel right on you – you should have taken that as a sign to cancel the date, you should have. 

In the end, you settled for a blue sundress, pairing it with your favorite shoes and a denim jacket. You braided the front pieces of your hair and did your make up and finished it up with some pink gloss on your lips. 

A part of you kept telling you to cancel the date, to call him and say that you had changed your mind but the other part kept telling you that the doubt and the awful feeling that had settled in the pit of your stomach was because you were overthinking things, because you weren’t ready to go out with someone else. 

You sat on your bed and stared at the wall, bouncing your knee up and down as you fought a war in your mind, you had no time to change your mind though, the doorbell rang too soon for your liking. 

You felt some of the tension leaving your body when he greeted you with his cute smile and your favorite flowers, you were surprised, you only briefly mentioned what flowers you love the most in your way too short conversation at the bonfire, last week. 

He looked excited and that put your mind at ease, a little.

He was a gentleman, he opened the car door for you and asked you how your day had been, he easily made you laugh. There was no awkwardness in the air, none at all. For the first thirty minutes, you were still a little tense though, your heart was pounding, you were nervous but he was great. 

The ice broke when The Cure started playing and you found something you have in common, you started talking about your favorite bands. You forgot how nervous you felt, you even forgot how wrong it had felt to go out with him, you forgot the weird feeling in your stomach, for a moment, you forgot everything. You shouldn’t have. 

He was respectful and nice all night, he didn’t touch you the way you thought he would. The most he did was offer you his hand or put it on the small of your back. He didn’t put his hand on your thigh when you were at the movies, not the way Steve did on your first date. He didn’t try to kiss you during the movie, he didn’t try anything. He kept making you laugh and it was nice, he made you feel comfortable and that led to you letting your guard down. 

For the first time, you had felt like a guy was genuinely interested in you. 

After the movies, you went to get some drinks and things were going great, too great. The part that kept screaming at you all day was back and screaming even louder but you drowned that voice out and you focused on him and how interested he seemed in you. 

Was luck on your side this time? 

But every good moment has to end and now the moment has come and it brings you here. 

You are walking down the sidewalk with your hand in his as you discuss the movie you saw earlier tonight. 

“There is no way you still think that Halloween is better than Friday the 13th!” 

“I do!” You shrug, giggling. “I think it’s the best movie.”

He shakes his head, chuckling, “I think you gotta see more movies.”

“Oh, I watch plenty of movies and I love horror but Halloween is still my favorite.”

“It’s hardly even a horror movie, honey.”

The pet name makes your smile falter a little.

“It’s good though.”

You stop in front of his car and you both turn to face each other, he places his hand on the roof of his car and you watch the way he eyes you up and down, the way his eyes linger on your chest, the way he licks his lips and smirks when his eyes meet yours again. 

You have to crane your neck to look up at him, he is tall, even taller than Steve. His hair is dark blonde and his eyes are blue, he has a look in his eyes that Steve doesn’t have, you don’t know whether it’s a good sign or not. His hair falls in front of his eyes. 

He is handsome but he isn’t him. 

You feel shy beneath his gaze, something his demeanor has changed in the past few minutes.

“Tell me,” he says as he leans closer to you, “which girl are you in a horror movie, the one that gets killed having sex or the innocent little girl turning into a killer?”

Maybe that should have made you turn on your heel and run but instead, you giggle at his question with a confused look on your face. 

You shrug, “I don’t know. Who are you? The jock that gets killed when the popular girl fucks him or the unassuming guy who turns out to be the slasher?” 

He chuckles darkly, “why don’t you find out?” He jokes as he unlocks the car and opens the door for you. 

You laugh, “sure, why not.”

The night is over and you can’t help but feel relieved, the date went great and you are happy about that, at least, you can go to bed knowing that there are guys who still just want to get to know you, without wanting something from you. 

Eddie is one of those guys too, he just wants to be around you but he is just a friend, nothing more. 

The small smile that lingered on your lips slowly disappears when he drives past the street that leads to your house. You glance at him, swallowing nervously. 

“That’s not the way to my house.”

He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at you with a smile, “oh I know, the night isn’t over yet,” he winks and looks back, gripping the steering wheel with one hand and letting his other hand linger close to you. 

There is nothing bad about what he said but you feel your heart dropping and a shiver running down your spine, still, you try to stay calm. You take a deep breath and look out the window, watching the passing trees. 

This can still have a good ending, right?

He drums his fingers against the steering wheel.

“Everything okay?”

You force a smile on your face and nod, “mhm.”

He is making sure that you are okay, that must be a good sign, right? 

The wooded area he was driving through, already gave you all the signs where he is taking you, you are still surprised when he parks the car at Lovers Lake. 

“You’re not actually the unassuming slasher are you?” You joke when you stare at the dark lake in front of you. 

He chuckles at your question, he turns off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt. You do the same, thinking that he wants to leave the car. 

“Are we going skinny dipping?” You ask, laughing as you reach for the door handle but before you can open it, he reaches out, cupping your face with his large hands and pulling you into him, he smashes his lips against yours, catching you off guard a little. 

Your heart beats faster and you gasp against him, you did not expect this. He pulls you even closer against him, kissing you desperately.

It feels wrong, so so wrong.

But you decide to try it out, to see what it’s like to kiss someone else. You place your hand on his cheek, you close your eyes and you kiss him back. 

He hums in satisfaction, his thumb lingers on your cheekbone, his lips move softly against yours. It's nice, at first, but then it gets rougher and faster. 

You can taste the coke and the rum on his lips, you can smell his expensive cologne on him, you can feel how rough he is and you can still feel how he’s pulling back, he wants more and it makes the pit in your stomach grow bigger. 

Disappointment is all you feel now, of course it had to go this way. 

His hands move down to your shoulders and he deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips, you can feel him smirking against you when you whimper – not from pleasure but from the discomfort of the forceful kiss, you don't know why you keep going, you don’t know why you keep kissing him when you can already tell where is he is trying to take this. He pushes your jacket down along with the straps of your dress and then he breaks the kiss, smirking at you when you gasp at the roughness of his hands as he pulls you closer against him, you can’t keep up with his quick movements. Before you can react, he pushes your hair back and buries his face in your neck, not wasting a second to start kissing and sucking on your neck, it hurts.

You scrunch your face up, hissing when you feel his teeth gracing your skin.

“Ray.”

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard.” 

You shudder in disgust and tilt your head, trying to move back, scooting away, only for him to pull you back. When you feel his hands gripping your sides tightly, you feel your stomach dropping, you freeze when you realize what this night is turning into.

“Stop it,” you warn him with a shaky voice, your heart is pounding in your chest and everything inside of you screams at you to get out of here.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks as he suddenly grabs your thigh, trying to push his hand under your dress, “come on, don’t be such a prude, y/n. We both know you want this. I saw the way you looked at me.”

His words make you feel sick, the nausea rises up quickly and you feel like throwing up. 

“No! Stop it, Ray!” You say louder as a mix of anger and fear rushes through you, “I don’t want this!”

The fear inside of you doesn’t know how to handle the situation but the anger does. You grab his hair and pull him away from you, ripping his hand away with your other hand. 

“I said no, asshole!” You spit and slap him harshly across the face with the back of your hand, knowing that the rings that Eddie gave you will leave marks on his skin. 

His eyes darken at your action, he clenches his jaw and his cheeks grow red, you see the anger and rage behind his eyes and it scares you. With shaky hands, you rip the door open and get out of the car. You need to get out of here, you need to get away from him. 

Luck is never on your side. 

You feel like a fool for thinking that he was just interested in you. Of course, he wanted more, of course he wanted this from you. What else could he possibly want from you? 

You feel your heart in your throat and the regret and fear in you is so strong, you don’t know whether to scream or cry when you hear him getting out of his car. Your first instinct is to run but he grabs your waist and drags you back. You can’t even fight him off, he is much bigger and stronger than you are. He slams you against the car and pins your wrists against it, holding them tightly, too tightly. 

“Let me go!” You yell, struggling against the grip he has around your wrists.

He shakes his head, laughing. 

“I told you, I don’t want this! I don’t want to have sex with you so let me go or–”

“Or what?” He chuckles, “you’re not gonna do shit. You can’t tell me you didn’t wear this for me,” he says, tugging at your dress before he lets go of your wrist and grabs your face instead, “and the way you looked at me at the bonfire? You gave me those eyes, babe. I knew you wanted to be fucked.”

You shake your head, you press yourself against the car, desperately needing some distance between you and him. 

“I didn’t, I thought you were nice.”

“Aw,” he pouts but even in the darkness, you can see the amusement in his eyes, “you thought I was nice? You thought I wanted to take you out on a cute little date, kiss you on your porch and ask you to be my girlfriend?”

No but you certainly didn’t want this. The guy he was earlier, is gone, he dropped the act and is now showing you the side you are afraid of.

“If I wanted a girlfriend, I wouldn’t have asked you out,” he says, chuckling, “you think I was interested in you?” 

You don’t answer him, you just continue to stare at him. 

“Jesus,” he sighs, “you’re so fucking dumb.”

Your lips part and your brows furrow, you feel like punching him but you also feel like crying, this is a nightmare. 

“What would I want with a stupid little bitch like you?” He laughs and he finally lets go of you, taking a step back. 

You feel relieved to no longer feel his hands on you but your heart is still pounding and you feel cold.

“I took you out and listened to the shit you were telling me about, the least you could do was let me fuck you after teasing me all night.”

You blink, staring at him in disbelief. 

“Let me tell you something, y/n,” he says, tilting his head. 

You should have walked away, you shouldn’t have let him speak, you shouldn’t have listened to him, you should’ve left. 

But you stand frozen in place, you are blinking, your eyes are wet with tears.

“You are so fucking boring. You’re just a dumb little cheerleader with no fucking personality. The only good thing you have is your pretty face and your body – you should be thankful for that, by the way,” he says, pointing at you, “you’re a good fuck and that’s all you’ll ever be, that’s why Harrington dumped you, you’re not fucking interesting enough to keep around.”

Somehow, he knew which words he had to use to hurt you. 

You know that you were never good enough for him, you know that he didn’t love you, you know that he turned away from you because he found something better, something real. 

You feel like a fool for thinking that someone could want you for more than this. 

Ray had voiced everything that has been on your mind already. 

“Oh and that Munson guy you hang out with? He’ll drop you too the moment you spread your legs for him — that’s probably why he’s still around, he’s just waiting for you to whore yourself out to him.”

You want to scream at him, you want to hurt him back but you don’t feel the power to actually fight back. 

You stare at him through your blurry vision, breathing heavily as you clench your fists. You can feel yourself wanting to cry but you would never give him the satisfaction and show him how hurt you are. You turn on your heel and walk away, pulling the strap of your dress and your jacket back in place. 

“Where are you going?” He asks, making you scoff in disbelief.

You flip him off without looking back, “fuck you!”

You don’t know where to go, you don’t know how to get home from here, it’s too dark to even see anything but you would rather get lost in the woods than get back in his car. You choose to walk down the dark path, refusing to get back on the road where he will drive by.

You refuse to let the tears fall, you blink rapidly, tugging your jacket tighter around you as you strut through the woods. You feel disgusted and angry, you regret this, you regret everything. 

You hate yourself for going out with him, you hate yourself for kissing him back, you hate yourself for letting his words get to you. You wipe away the tear that threatened to roll down your cheek. 

You were doing so good. You were happy. You were content with the way things were going. Why did you have to say yes to the date? Why did you have to ruin everything? His words have triggered something inside of you, something you had tried to leave in the past. 

That’s why Harrington dumped you. That’s why Harrington dumped you. That’s why Harrington dumped you. 

I’m not in love with you anymore.

Did you really think that I meant that?

I didn’t, I-I’m not even sure if I ever loved you, y/n. I wouldn’t have fallen for her if I did love you, right?

I mean, it wasn’t love.

Well, he wasn’t in love with her– I mean, he dated her because that was expected of him, right? She’s the popular cheerleader, the pretty rich girl, those have nothing in their brains and they’re pretty boring too so.. It was all just for show, I-I mean, do you really think he wanted her for her?

The voices in your head get louder and louder, overpowering the other. You can’t do this anymore, you can’t. You halt in your tracks, you put your hands over your ears, shaking your head. 

A hand on your shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts, startling you. A gasp falls from your lips and you jump back with wide eyes, only now realizing that you are not on the dark path any longer. The street lights illuminate the street ahead of you, you recognize the boat houses. 

“Whoa, relax, girly. It’s just me.”

You press your palm against your chest and sigh, it takes you a moment to recognize the lanky guy in front of you. 

Reefer Rick. 

Eddie’s supplier. 

“You scared me,” you mumble, rolling your eyes. You relax as you continue to take deep breaths.

The smell of weed invades your space and you glance back at him, noticing the joint between his lips. 

“Sorry, kid. What’re you doing out here by yourself?” He asks, smoking his joint. 

“Walking.”

“Walking in a dress?”

You look down at yourself with a frown, “what’s wrong with walking in a dress?”

“Nothin’,” he laughs, clearly stoned out of his mind, “I wouldn’t want to walk in a dress.”

“Okay..”

He points to his house, “I’m throwing a party, wanna come inside? I got some new stuff to try out.”

New stuff – new drugs. You don’t take drugs, except for the occasional joints you smoke with Eddie but that’s all. 

You should go home right now but the thought of being alone with your thoughts seems too much after the night you had and you want to forget, forget everything that happened. 

You hesitate though, you promised Eddie that you would never go to one of Rick’s parties by yourself, he made you promise, claiming that he doesn’t trust the people that Rick surrounds himself with. 

Normally, you wouldn’t do this but tonight, you don’t care about the promises that you have made. You need a drink or maybe even something stronger. 

“Okay.”

-

After a long and exhausting campaign, Eddie wanted nothing more than to go home, call you to ask how the date had gone and then go straight into bed but he had promised Rick to drop by and pick up the new supplies. 

He parks the car on the side of the road, sighing when he sees all the cars in his driveway, the people on his porch. 

Eddie hates parties, especially Rick’s parties, too many crazy people in one house. He walks into the boathouse, wincing at the music – not at the volume but at the awful song choice. He looks around, looking for his supplier. 

“Aye Munson!” 

He perks up when he hears Rick’s voice, he cranes his neck, looking over a group of girls. He waves his hand in front of his face when someone blows smoke directly into his face as he makes his way over to him. 

He is too tired for this tonight and quite frankly, he isn’t in the mood to be here. He wants to check on you. A weird feeling in his stomach had kept him from enjoying the night with the boys from hellfire tonight, it triggered a headache too. 

“There you are!” Rick grins and throws his arm around Eddie, “how’s it going?” 

“Good,” Eddie mumbles. 

Over the loud music, he hears a girl’s giggle and he could swear it sounded like you. 

“Listen uh, you got the stuff?” Eddie asks. 

“You don’t wanna stick around?” Rick asks, frowning.

“Nah man, I’m tired. Maybe next time.”

Rick sighs, he runs his hand through his messy hair, sticking his joint back between his lips.

“Alright, I’ll get your stuff, wait here.” 

Eddie nods. He puts his hands into his pockets, he looks around. A cloud of smoke hangs over the living room, the smell of weed and alcohol is heavy in the air. Most people here are strangers to Eddie, he wonders where Rick finds these people. 

He looks over at the people dancing, snorting at the couple making out in the middle of the dance floor, the group of girls that are laughing and singing along to the music don’t seem to bother them as they continue to bump into them. He looks away but then his eyes catch sight of something that makes him freeze in his spot. He has to take a double look to make sure that his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him. 

Amongst the girls he had never seen, is you. 

“What the hell,” Eddie mumbles, confused. 

You have glitter on your face, your eyes are red, he can even tell from a distance. You are giggling loudly, letting one of the girls twirl you around as she holds your hand over your head. 

You are either drunk or on drugs. 

“You gotta be kidding me,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. 

What are you doing here and where is your date? 

He is not happy to see you here. This is not a good place. 

Angrily, he stomps over to you, pushing past the people who are on the dancefloor next to you. He calls your name loudly and watches the way your bloodshot eyes widen when you see him. You pull away from the girls, stumbling on your feet, a little. 

“Eddie!” You squeal and run towards him, throwing your arms around him. “What are you doing here!”

He smells the whiskey and the weed on you, right away and it pisses him off. 

“What am I doing here?” He asks as he pushes you away from him, carefully. “What are you doing here?” 

He watches the way your face drops, the way your lips set in a pout at the tone in his voice. 

“I told you not to come here by yourself! Where is your date?” He asks, too angry to notice anything, too angry to notice the look in your eyes, too angry and worried to see the marks on the side of your neck or the red and purplish bruises around your wrists. 

You fall into a ramble, giving him nothing but incoherent words. You blink rapidly, your voice is shaky, he doesn’t understand a single word and he can tell that you are starting to hyperventilate as the happiness and the bliss begins to fade away more and more.

He puts his arm around you and leads you out on the porch, where it’s more quiet, he sits you down on the steps and puts his hands on your shoulders.

“Sweetheart, you need to calm down,” he says when your rambling causes you to breathe faster.

“I-I, yeah.” Is all you say as you rub your eyes, not caring about your make up. 

“What did you take?” He asks, thinking that it’s the drugs that are messing with you. 

“Just weed and w-whiskey,” you slur.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you’re here alone?”

You nod. 

“Jesus Christ, y/n,” he murmurs, “I told you not to come here! Do you ever listen?” 

He doesn’t notice the way you flinch at his words, the way you look at him with glossy eyes as you search for the usual warmth in his eyes. 

“I’m gonna get you some water and then I’ll drive you home, okay?” 

“Okay,” you whisper.

He gets up, he looks down at you, your eyes lock and he notices the way you look at him, like a scolded child, big eyes that are filled with sadness and guilt, pouty, quivering lips. His eyes soften but he is still so angry, he sighs and turns away and walks back into the house.

He is angry that you didn’t listen, he is angry because he doesn’t know what would happen if he didn’t show up here tonight. 

But he doesn’t know what had already happened. 

When he walks back out with a water bottle in hand, he closes the door behind him and speaks up without looking at you. 

“Alright let’s go – oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me!” He yells, startling some of the people who are still out on the porch. But you are gone. 

“Jesus H. Christ!” 

-

Another sleepless night keeps Steve on his toes. He hates it. He finished his homework earlier tonight, he went out for a run, took a long shower, cleaned his room and reread Pride and Prejudices again. 

He wanted to go to the movies with Nancy but she had already made plans with Barb tonight – a ‘girls sleepover’. 

He envies her a little, he doesn’t have any friends anymore, no one to hang out with, no one to play basketball with, no one to go to the movies with. He misses it. 

He lies in his bed, throwing a baseball into the air and listening to Tears For Fears. He lets his mind wander, he wonders what you are doing right now, he wonders if you are with Eddie tonight, he wonders if – no. Stop it, just stop it. 

Sighing, he throws the ball across the room, letting it bounce of the wall and onto the floor, he turns on his side, facing his nightstand and the telephone he keeps staring at every night, hoping for a call from –

His heart leaps to his throat and he almost jumps up when it starts ringing. He stares at it for a moment, almost in disbelief. 

The shrill ringing continues to sound through the room and he leans over, grabbing the receiver and sitting up as he holds it to his ear. 

“Hello?” 

Steve doesn’t know what or who he expected it to be – maybe Nancy or his mom or even Dustin or one of the other kids who sometimes prank call him but when he hears the quiet sniffle, he instantly knows who it is without having to hear the voice first. 

His face falls and a frown takes over. 

“Steve?” 

next chapter

taglist: @corrodedcorpses @corrodedseraphine @wroteclassicaly @screammunson @hellfire--cult @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can @nemesis729 @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @xxhellfiregirlxx @trashmouth-richie

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things angst

[appleblueberry-pie]

PIE'S MASTERLIST & RULES

HI, welcome to my page! I love writing on here as my main platform and I enjoy all comments and support under my works, it gives me the boost I need to keep going!

MASTERLIST

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Wanna be cherished by Yan Satoru and Yan Suguru

Wanna be cherished by them rant part 2

Yandere Scarface Gojo

Nurse Geto x Doctor Reader

Dominant Yandere Nurse Geto Headcanons

Yandere Nurse Geto x Female Nurse Reader

Small rant about writing about Sukuna

I need a quick outlet.

Sweetheart Yandere Satoru Gojo

Yandere House"wife" Gojo

Lovesick Nanami Kento Drabble

Broke Yandere Toji

Explaining your First Love to the Yandere's

Diamond Buried in the Dirt Suguru Geto

Suguru Headcanons

Yandere GF Yuki + Yandere Various! JJK Characters

Okkotsu Yuuta

Nanami x Brat ramble

You Are Everything Yandere Gojo

Obviously American Reader x Yandere Gojo x Yandere Nanami

ACROSS THE SPIDER VERSE

Miles Morales.

Miguel O'Hara blurb

I want him SO bad, you guys.

More Yandere 42 Miles Headcanons

You Deserve More Than Me Yandere 42 Miles

Even More Yandere Earth 42 Miles Headcanons

Things Yandere 42 Miles has done without your knowledge

ATTACK ON TITAN

nothing yet lol

ANSWERED ASKS

JJK

Yandere Nanami with Darling who was harmed

Soft Yandere Nanami with Darling who found his wall of dedication

Let Me Take Care of You

And Let Yourself Heal

Yandere Gojo Satoru Soulmaaates!

Yandere Toji Fushiguro New Girl, Same Old Me.

Yandere Yuuta Hungry, Starving, Greedy...

Yandere Satoru Gojo Nobody Has to Understand

Don't separate those lips to tell me. I already know.

Short Submissive JJK Headcanons

Who pays the bills?

Yandere Geto Skin Deep

Darling Accepting Choso and his love

Broke Gojo x Rich Reader Headcanons

Safe Space Yandere Gojo + Yandere Yuuta(separately)

Rejecting Yandere Gojo Satoru

Dehumanizing Yandere Okkotsu Yuuta

Taking complete control over Yandere Satoru Gojo

Finding out Yandere Gojo killed your friend (smau)

Yandere Yuuta as the father of your kids

Yandere Nanami Kento accidentally neglecting his darling

ASTV

Possibilities for why Yandere 42 Miles is the way he is now

Yandere Miles nearly losing it when you get asked to prom

Yandere Miguel O'Hara Mine All Fucking Mine

Yandere Miguel O'Hara Dinner is the Dessert

Yandere Earth 42 Miles Morales Pain Isn't Strong Enough

Yandere Miguel O'Hara What Isn't There to Love About You?

Yandere Miguel O'Hara Blood Moon

Yandere Miles Morales Be Mine? Yes or No.

Reader who isn't into Yandere Miles

Yandere Miguel O'Hara Bittersweet

Drabble of your future with Yandere 42 Miles Morales

Trauma bonding with slightly yandere Miguel O'Hara

Earth 42 Miles Morales x Brazilian Reader

Yandere Miguel O'Hara I Thought You Knew Better Than This?

ATTACK ON TITAN

Yandere Levi finding out you didn't come back with your squad

MISCELLANEOUS

About Yandere Content Out There.

Lmao

Never thought this would happen

RULES

What I do write:

Yandere(obviously)

fem reader

gender neutral reader

sfw/nsfw

fluff

anything regular that's not Yandere

bdsm

What I don't write:

Gore

incest/pseudo incest

rape

trans reader or male reader(i don't think I know enough about how it would physically work, in terms of smut)

infantilism

starving/overfeeding

drug usage

Cheating

Part 2's

I hope you enjoy going through my stuff. There is one post I want to put on the masterlist that I literally can't find at all. But nonetheless, this is all of my work so far. I will continue adding works on here as I post more often. It's about time. I want to expand the things I write, but for now, it's just this.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #reader #yandere character #jjk #across the spiderverse #jujutsu kaisen x reader #atsv #miles morales #yandere miles morales #yandere atsv #yandere hobie brown #yandere jjk smut #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere lesbian #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere nanami kento #yandere miguel o'hara x reader #yandere satoru #yandere spiderman #yandere satoru gojo #yandere suguru #yandere spiderverse #yandere suguru geto #yandere toji #yandere x reader smut #yandere male #soft yandere

[sweetlittlegingy]

I Don't Start Shit, But I Can Tell You How It Ends

✦ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Single!Mother, Dagger Squad vs. Davis

✦Word Count: 2.8 K

✦Warnings: Protective!Hangman, Angry!Hangman, Protective!Dagger Squad, Asshole Guy, Failed Drugging, Jake hints at killing people...

✦A/n: The Dagger Squad finally gets ahold of Mathew's old Principle. They really hate the man, we all do tbh! Day 2 of 500 celebration!!!!

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

He’d told you he wouldn’t go to the school, and Jake Seresin was nothing if not a man of his word. Especially when the promise was made to you. No, Jake had informed Rooster of the situation. Of how the piece of shit, Davis, had touched you and made completely inappropriate comments about not only you, but also Mathew.

Jake had gone to Rooster knowing that the information would have him on a manhunt, and it did. Rooster was overwhelmingly protective of you, and though Jake had hated it at times, right now he was more than thankful for it. What Jake hadn’t meant to have happen, was to have Bob overhear him and Rooster talking.

No, that was defiantly not a part of the plan.

Though it quickly became a part of it.

“I figure, you go in and sweet talk the office Lady and —”

The slam of the locker room doors had Jake pausing, both him and Rooster looking over their shoulders to see a fuming Phoenix.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Her tone has both the pilots, exchanging a worried glance. Glancing behind Phoenix’s form at the other two male pilots, hoping that their faces would provide a revelation.

Jake's eyes first meet Coyote, a hard unamused gaze meeting his own. His eyes leave his best friend, to flitter between Bob’s own unusually hard gaze and Phoenix, her eyes never leaving his own. Her hands rested on her hips, giving both Jake and Rooster a ‘What The Fuck’ look.

“Nix baby, what’s wrong?” Rooster's tone causes a scoff to fall from Phoenix’s lips, taking a step toward the two of them. Both Rooster and Jake to step back, one hand leaving her hip to point at the two of them. A silent accusation.

“When were you going to tell me that my sister-in-law,” Her gaze cutting to Bradley harshly. “and god-son were getting FUCKING harassed by some idiot Principal.”

Both of them remained quiet; never noticing, until now, that lock room floors were remarkably shiny.

“Hmm?”

“Baby, I was going to tell you—”

“Don’t even Chicken,” the name instantly shutting the man up. She’d only ever used it on him when he was in trouble, using it more often than she did his actual name. “You are sleeping on the couch tonight.”

He shouldn’t have laughed, but Jake loved to see Rooster get in trouble. His laugh quickly dies though, when Phoenix’s pointed finger cuts to him.

“And you, what was the plan? Huh?”

“Trace, I had a plan.”

The sound of dripping water echoed through the silent locker room, each of the pilots waiting for Jake to continue. Jake’s eyes moved back to Rooster, who remained not only silent, but looked like he’d just gotten his favorite toy taken away from him.

Jake’s eyes rolled, realizing that Rooster would be no help to him. The 6-foot-something pilot was already in the doghouse with the wife, and wouldn’t be risking getting more sleepless nights on the couch.

“I mean it’s a work in progress, me and Rooster were hashing it out.”

A grunt leaves Rooster, “Look baby I was just listening, and then I was gonna come tell you.”

His head slowly nodding, “Yeah, I was actually about to tell Hangman that we need your input.”

It was clearly a lie, everyone knew it.

But Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, was in fact the biggest suck-up to his wife. If Jake wasn’t so in love with you, he would’ve laughed. Though from the moment he had met you, he was yours. You said jump, and he said how high.

“You’re an idiot. I love you, but you’re an idiot.” Walking over to Rooster, she gives him a soft kiss, her gaze then bouncing between Jake and Rooster. “But also, you do need me.”

….

Phoenix’s plan was no doubt better, than what the two pilots had initially thought of. Rooster didn’t love the fact that Phoenix was the “bait” in the situation, but she’d quickly told him to shut up before the protest could leave his mouth.

The first part of the plan had worked smoothly, Phoenix and Bob had quickly found Davis’s Facebook page and found the general area in which he lived. They had also learned what car he drove, and like the damn detective that she was, Phoenix found the man’s choice grocery store to shop at.

The momentum of the plan acceleration, like a snowball rolling down the hill. With a “accidental” meeting in the fresh fruit section, Phoenix quickly had a date set with the man.

That was last week which led to here and now, as Phoenix sat at the bar in the Hard Deck, wearing a dress and waiting for her date to show up. The guys crowded around the pool table, causally playing as if they weren’t about to beat the shit out of some middle-aged man soon enough.

You were home with Mathew and Jake knew that you wouldn’t be coming out. He would usually be with you and Maty, but he’d told you that he needed to handle an issue at the Hard Deck with Roos. You hadn’t even questioned it, only asked if he would be coming by after, to which he replied of course.

…

The bar was slightly crowded for a Thursday night, though it didn’t stop the pilots from clocking the door every time it opened. Before long, Davis had shown up, 20 minutes late to the “date,” but he had showed.

Jake notices the way Phoenix slightly stiffens as Davis’s hand rests a tad low on her lower back, and he has to grab Rooster before he goes and beats the shit of the man. Phoenix glances back at the group of guys, meeting Rooster's eyes and giving him a silent ‘I’m okay.’ He relaxes slightly in Jake’s hold, but is still slightly tense as he moves back to the pool table. The group continues the game of pool, eyes fleeting between the game and the bar.

They watch as Phoenix holds a conversation with the man, though maintains a safe distance from his wandering hands. They hadn’t told Penny about the plan, the group of pilots grin as they notice her continually checking in on Phoenix.

….

Penny had once again made her way over to Phoenix and the man, giving her a smile and the man a harsh glare. Penny knew that this couldn’t be one of Phoenix and Rooster's plans to spice up their marriage, no she could tell that this was different.

“Can I get you two a refill?”

“Yeah baby, get me a beer and – ”  Davis looks over to Phoenix, before turning back to Penny. “Get her cocktail.” 

Penny recoils at the name he calls her and glances back to Phoenix who has remained silent.

“She usually takes a beer or shoots liquor, buddy.”

“Yeah, well cocktails are ladylike.”

The comment has both the women rolling their eyes, Penny’s eyes moving back to the group of pilots, and raises an eyebrow at Rooster.

Rising up from her seat, the dress fluttering down around her hips, drawing Davis’s eyes directly to her tan legs, catching his gaze, Phoenix scoffs.

“Get me whatever Pen, I’m going to the bathroom.”

She leaves before Davis can say anything, more than fed up with the overly handsy and sexist man. Making her way past the group of pilots, she silently looks at them, before going into the bathroom.

…

Jake is making his way to the bar before the bathroom door is fully closed. He slides up to the bar, right next to Davis as he flags down Penny.

“Penny ma’ dear, can I get a whiskey?”

He can feel Davis’ eyes on him, silently watching and assessing. While waiting for Penny, Jake leans his back against the bar, his eyes finally landing on Davis.

“Do I know you?” Jake’s eyes stare at the man, like a lion taunting his prey.

“Nah, don’t think so.”

The reply is short and to the point, but it has Jake laughing slightly. Turning back to lean his forearms on the bar, his gaze harsh and waiting for Davis to bite.

“No, I know you from somewhere.”

Davis doesn’t get a chance to answer as Penny arrives again handing Jake the whiskey and setting down the two drinks for Phoenix and Davis.

“You drinking that girly shit man? Cuz I know Nix doesn’t.”

The comment makes Davis release an uneasy breath, before ignoring Jake altogether. The pilot looks back over his shoulder at the group of guys patiently waiting by the pool table.

If he hadn’t turned back when he did, Jake would have missed it. Lucky, Jake sees it as Davis mixes a bag of powder into Phoenix’s drink.

“Oh buddy, you did not just do that.”

Though the words sound light, the comment is anything but as Jake lays a hand harshly on Davis’s shoulder.

“Listen here, this has nothing to do with you. So just go back to your little friends and leave me be.”

Jake’s tongue slightly clicks at the man, head caulking to the side and laying a harsh gaze upon him. His eyes calculating as ever. Jake has been pissed off before, but now, after this, he was just about ready to kill Davis.

The tick of his jaw, gives Jake away “You know, I thought you looked familiar. You are the piece of shit, who fucked with my girl.”

Grasping the glass of whiskey, Jake shoots the rest of it back. Arm falling to rest upon bar, as he gives Davis his signature award-winning smirk.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen, Penny ma’ dear you’re going to ring that bell and asshole here is going to pay for a round of drinks.” His soft gaze moves from Penny and back to a clearly worried Davis, eyes instantly hardening when they make contact with Davis‘s own.

“Me and you, we’re gonna go outside and have a little talk, about how you treat women.”

Before he can reply, Bradley and Coyote each grab one of Davis’s arms, and drag him out of the bar as Penny rings the bell in the background. Davis lands harshly on the ground, as Rooster and Coyote release him with a harsh shove. The group of pilots crowded around him, each of them staring down at him with bitter gazes.

“I don’t know wha—”

The words instantly die on Davis’s lips, as Jake crouches down next to him. The surrounding group intent on quietly watching; waiting for Jake to make the first move. Rooster hadn’t seen, the way Davis slipped a powder into Phoenix’s drink, though when he found out Jake was sure he’d want to kill the man just as much.

“Now I’m sure you don’t remember, given that you seem like the type of scum that regularly hits on women without their consent.”

The harsh jab Jake lays on the man’s chest, send him back a bit. The boys had seen Jake mad before, but never like this. Never with such fire and anger burning in his green eyes.

“You see, you made my girl cry. Not just that, you put your hands on my girl, and then you have the nerve to talk about how she’s raising our son.”

Sure, Mathew wasn’t his son yet legally, but with or without the paperwork he was still Jake’s boy.

“She showed up at your office, wanting to have a talk about how your school had been treating Mathew.  But she comes home to me crying and hides in the bathroom until I knocked the fuckin’ door down.”

His voice slowly rose with every word, and watching as his words sink in. Jake laughs as he watches Davis pales upon his realization of the words. Jake’s hand raises up to smack Davis gently across the face laughing as he does so.

“Ahhhh, there it is.”

Jake quickly rises back up to stand over the man, turning back around to the group of pilots and motions them to go grab him. As Rooster and Coyote grab onto the man, lifting him back onto his feet, Jake slowly makes a show.

He always like to show off, it made people uneasy. Jake liked making sure everyone knew just how good he was. He glances over his shoulder, as he unbuttons the khaki uniform top, pulling it off so he’s only wearing the white undershirt with his khaki pants. Glancing back at the man with that well-known smirk,

“Can’t have you bleeding on my good clothes.”

He says it so easily, but he knows that it hits its mark, as Davis shutters slightly in Coyote and Roosters hold.

The sound of the bar doors opening, has the group looking back toward the entrance. Watching as Phoenix exits the bar and makes her way to the group.

“Did I miss anything?”

Davis silently stares at the woman, his eyes moving between Jake and her. The realization slowly crept in that this whole night was a set-up; the meet-up in the grocery store, Jake coming up to him in the bar, and now here with his back pressed against the side of the bar wall.  

“Not a thing, Trace.”

The shift of Davis’ shoulders sends everyone's eyes back to him, watching and calculating just how bad his night might become.

“Now as you can tell, well maybe you can’t cause you’re an idiot, but we’re all in the Navy. And with the Navy, comes call signs.”

Jake’s form comes to a halt, staring down Davis with a wicked smile that just about sends Rooster and Coyote running.

“My callsign, well there are few people that know the real reason behind it, but you’re about to find out buddy.”

Glances are exchanged between the other pilots, though it’s Coyote's gaze that never leaves Jake’s. He’d been there when Jake earned the name Hangman. It had been a long time ago, but he knew that Jake, still lay just beneath the surface.

“See everybody likes to assume, that it’s because I like flying alone. Well, that just ain’t it, nope.”

The calculated steps, unnerving gaze, and the way in which Jake talks were clearly meant to scare the man.

Let it be known, that when you pissed Jacob Grant Seresin off, all hell would break loose.

Jake’s right arm shootouts, to grasp Davis’s neck so fast that I has Phoenix gasping. The other pilots only shift slightly at the brutal action.

“No, I got named Hangman because I’ve been known to string up men and play the judge, jury, and executioner.”

With each title that falls from his lips, Jake lifts Davis slowly until his feet no longer touch the ground and the only thing keeping him up, is the hand clasped around his neck.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

The group of pilots remain unmoving, all watching in unnerving silence and slowly comprehending the way in which Jake actually got his callsign. Davis tries to nod his head, though the hand around his neck makes it near impossible. As if only to taunt him more, Jake taps his ear slightly with his left hand.

“What was that?”

Shades from red to a light purple, start to cover Davis’s face, a clear sign of his lack of oxygen. His mouth moves though no words can fall from it. A sharp chuckle leaves Jake’s lips, as he loses his grip slightly as the man gasps for air.

“I understand.” The panting of his breath only makes Jake smile widen.

“Good.”

As the single word is muttered from Jake’s lips, the right hand once clasped over Davis’ neck drops. His body falls to the floor on the concrete, causing him to lean back against the bar wall, gasping for air.

“And I thought you would be more fun to break.” His tone light and easy, completely unfazed by the events that just occurred.

Jake reaches over to take his shirt from Phoenix, giving each of his friends the smile that they all came to know once Jake met you. He was a completely different person, than the one he was just moments ago. As he pulls the shirt back on, without missing a beat Jake lowers himself down to Davis. Laughing slightly at how the man flinches away from him.

“Don’t ever come around my girl or son again.”

The tone of his voice sends another shockwave through Davis’s body. Rising without any care for the man, Jake kicks the man’s limp foot before turning ready to get home to you.

A final glance over his shoulder, to the group of his friends still standing around Davis unsure of what to do.

“Hey Roos, I forgot to tell you that he tried to drug Nix.”

The final words, might as well have been those that a coroner would’ve signed in the finalization of the death certificate.

#better man universe #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun #natasha phoenix trace #robert bob floyd #javy coyote machado #mickey fanboy garcia #rueben payback fitch

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Forgive These Bones I'm Hiding (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Serial Killer Marcus Pike x f!Reader (Reader is a police officer with the nickname “Cricket”)

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: This is a Spoooooooky fic for Halloween season. Please heed the warnings; this is not darkfic, per se, but it explores dark themes and contains elements of suspense and horror. The following subjects are mentioned in the context of cases that the reader deals with. I do not go into explicit detail about any of these themes and any violence is implied rather than seen, but please heed the warnings for: child abuse, domestic abuse, alcoholism, drunk driving, implied sexual assault, suicide, drug use, drug overdoses. Whew. Okay, for the story itself, please be warned that there is: derogatory language (someone calls reader a “bitch”), murders, body horror (corpses!), Marcus Pike being a bit unsettling, Very Enthusiastic Pussy Eating, unprotected PIV sex (this is fiction! use protection and also maybe don't fuck a serial killer!)

Summary: When five paintings are stolen from their frames, an unusual crime for your small-town precinct in Hannibal, Missouri, it's easy for you to project your insecurities about being a female police officer in a tiny, Midwest town onto the handsome FBI Agent from Washington who arrives to help with the case. But as your disposition--and the solid walls you've built around yourself--begin to soften, you quickly find you have bigger problems than the charming man you can't help but develop feelings for. One by one, bodies are starting to pile up. Bodies that all seem to share one connection… You.

A/N: This story is about Marcus Pike if he were a serial killer. If this concept gives you The Ick, please do not read this and then come to me telling me that you think it’s icky. You have been warned. Dead dove don’t eat, etc. I *have* taken pains to ensure that Marcus is not a bad man. He’s a murderer, yes, but he only kills the worst that humanity has to offer. He’s a serial killer AND he’s my perfect, unhinged baby. Cool? Cool. Thank you to @littlebirdsbookshelf for encouraging this nonsense, letting me scream about it on Discord from day one, and reading through it and helping me with the police procedural bits!

Masterlist

When the call comes to your desk at 8:30am on a Monday morning, you can’t deny that your initial response is excitement. 

Who could blame you? Not much happens here in Hannibal. 

The waver in the elderly museum docent’s voice reminds you to temper your eagerness. With a steady, even voice, you patiently repeat the information she gives you. You don’t bother pointing out that she really should have called 911, rather than the police station directly; she’s one of many older residents in this town who prefer to skip the middle-man, so to speak, and you don’t really mind being the first voice people hear after a crisis.

“Window broken… alarm power cut… five Norman Rockwells,” you murmur to yourself as you scribble down the details on a post-it. “CCTV nonfunctional… broken… cameras for show only… Yes ma’am. Yep, I know the place. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“What was that?” Your CO asks from his office, not bothering to get up from his chair and come out into the bullpen. If you could even call it that. You’re the only regular inhabitant. 

“Mrs. Ingram from the Mark Twain Museum. Someone broke in last night and cut five paintings from their frames.”

CO Hubbard squints, taking off his reading glasses and perching them on top of his head and staring at you like you’ve grown an extra head. 

“Someone stole from the Mark Twain Museum?”

“Crazy, right? I’m heading there now.”

The older man grunts and nods, placing his bifocals back on his nose and returning his gaze to the Hannibal Courier-Post’s crossword. 

You don’t bother turning on the lights on your squad car. The streets are damn-near empty on a Monday morning. Most of the residents’ shifts began hours ago at the factories downriver, leaving the small town to appear almost abandoned. For being the famed birthplace of one Samuel Clemens, it sure doesn’t bring much tourist traffic to Hannibal, Missouri. 

Julia Ingram has been the Museum’s curator, docent, and gift shop operator since before you can remember. Despite her age, it seems as though she’s hardly changed from the time you visited the museum with your school group as a child. She greets you over thick wire frames kept in place with a whimsical beaded chain. Like most residents of Hannibal, she calls you ‘Cricket’–the nickname that’s stuck with you since your youth on account of your habit of sneaking out at night to stargaze. It’s hard to have much authority with the older citizens when they all remember you as a knobby-kneed preteen with a wild streak and a wilder imagination. 

You let her lead you to the gallery of Norman Rockwell art on the second floor of the old building. You walk past old editions of Tom Sawyer, a collection of Mark Twain’s childhood possessions, and a life-sized raft similar to what Huck and Jim might have used on their Mississippi River journey. 

The Norman Rockwell collection consists of fifteen paintings done for special editions of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. Today, though, there are only ten. Five frames are empty; broken shards litter the floor where the thief bashed through the glass to retrieve the priceless papers within.

“Why did they have to go and break them?” Mrs. Ingram asks in a tearful voice as you snap pictures on your little point-and-shoot camera you take with you for cases.

“Takes up less space,” you shrug. “Framed art is conspicuous. The perp probably rolled the illustrations up for ease of keeping them hidden.”

Mrs. Ingram shudders at the mention of rolling up Norman Rockwell illustrations, and you give her a sympathetic look.

“I’m going to call in a forensics team from the St. Louis office,” you tell the elderly woman. “They’ll be able to dust for fingerprints. In the meantime, the museum stays closed. No visitors. And don’t go around touching anything, okay? I should be able to get a security guard to watch the crime scene until forensics is able to come in. If you need anything, you call me,” you tell her, handing her a business card with your cell number. 

You rush back to the precinct with the intent of calling an old schoolmate in St. Louis to try and expedite the forensics team, but Sergeant Hubbard is out in the bullpen for once, and seemingly waiting for you. 

“I promised Mrs. Ingram that I’d get a forensics team down there ASAP,” you say, trying to sidestep the man and get to your desk. 

“This won’t take long,” the Sergeant promises. “And actually, you won’t be needing to send a team. I’ve got that covered.”

“You do?” you ask, frowning skeptically.

“This case is of National interest,” Hubbard explains. “The FBI has a dedicated team of Agents that specialize in art crimes, and the State has all but ordered that we go through them.”

“You’re going to involve the FBI?” You try to keep your voice calm and even, but you can hear the volume begin to rise in indignation. For once you’ve got a case that’s different, interesting even, and it’s slipping through your fingers after barely an hour of being under your purview. 

“If we do this by-the-book–” 

“I can handle this myself,” you can’t help but interject. “And since when do you give a shit about ‘by-the-book?’”

“No one is questioning your capabilities–”

“Oh yeah? Is that why I’m always being stuck with every domestic violence case that comes through the precinct while you always handle the bigger shit?”

“You need to watch how you speak to a commanding officer,” Hubbard growls.

“Like it or not, I’m the one with a personal connection to both Mrs. Ingram and the head of Forensics in St. Louis. The FBI is going to come here with all the subtlety of a jackhammer, and–”

“It doesn’t really matter what you think, because I’ve already contacted the head of the Art Crimes Department in Washington, D.C., and someone should be here tomorrow morning to take the case.”

Your mouth is a thin line, your jaw tensed, and your eyes dark. “Anything else, Sir?”

“The precinct is behind state quotas for speeding tickets,” Sergeant Hubbard says. “I want you to try and catch people coming from Illinois on I-72.”

“Understood,” you bite out through clenched teeth. 

Armed with a coffee and bagel from Java Jive, you settle in one of your “favorite” hiding places along the interstate. After putting the driver’s seat as far back as it will go so you can stretch your legs, you take a long sip of your latte. You flip on your radar, but rather than watch for speeders, you instead scroll aimlessly through the news on your phone. 

Everyone’s gonna be going the speed limit today, you’ve already decided it. 

The Waterhole isn’t exactly a reputable establishment, but as the only bar in Hannibal, the options for getting a cold beer aren’t exactly pouring in. Every patron looks warily in your direction when you enter–it’s tough on your social life, being one of three cops in town–but you’re hardly in the mood for conversation. Everything about you says “Fuck off”: from your mud-covered work boots to the flannel you use mainly to take out the garbage in the winter. You can’t remember the last time you threw it in the washer, but there’s a chill to the air tonight, and everything else was either dirty or far too heavy for the weather. Your dour expression probably does most of the work, though. You scowl at the floor as you plod heavily toward the end of the bar and sit yourself on a rickety stool. The footrest is predictably sticky, and the bartop never looks clean no matter how many times the long-time bartender, Palmer, runs a wet cloth over top of it. 

You hold up two fingers in greeting to Palmer, who nods cordially and hands you your usual. 

The first sip is always the best–and dammit, you intend to enjoy it. You close your eyes, letting the liquid wash over your tongue before swallowing. It’s just cheap lite beer, sure, but this is the first moment you’ve allowed yourself to truly relax all day, and you can already feel your shoulders begin to relax and your jaw unclench. 

Casting your eyes around the establishment (a habit you can’t ever seem to get rid of), you take inventory of the patrons. Just about everyone you’ve known since childhood. There’s Ellis and Danielle Hewitt, high school sweethearts from the graduating class just above you, in the corner sharing a plate of sad-looking nachos and twin Miller Lites. Tommy Blevins, the high school quarterback who, if you were a betting woman, was probably in the middle of telling his Tinder date about that big game back in ‘02 that cemented his reputation as a Hannibal ‘celebrity.’ Most of the men playing pool were fresh off a day shift from the oil plant in the next town over. 

Yep, all of the usual suspects. 

Plus one anomaly. 

Once you see him, you aren’t sure how he evaded your notice from the moment you entered the bar. For one thing, he’s the only patron wearing a suit; everyone here only ever wears jeans. For another, he’s got that look of an outsider about him. You can always tell who’s from out of town: they have that subtle hint of insecurity with their surroundings that comes from being in a new place. His dark eyes look over the bar scene with a fresh, discerning gaze–seeing it for the first time, rather than for the three hundredth. 

Like you, the man seems to instinctively people-watch. He’s not obvious about it, or anything, but you can see his pupils flitting from the Rams game to scan the crowd as if he’s looking for something. 

Or maybe waiting for something.

Given this behavior, it shouldn’t surprise you when your eyes eventually meet. Embarrassed at being caught-out, you give him a crooked not-really-a-smile. He smiles back–a genuine one, that exposes a set of perfectly straight, white teeth and a small dimple on his right cheek. 

Your manners are hard to come by this evening, but you manage a friendly, albeit stiff nod, raising your beer bottle in a silent toast.

The man’s smile widens. 

A commotion from over at the pool tables draws both of your gazes to the group of men–now seemingly arguing about the score. The main agitator is, predictably, Bobby Pearson. You drain your bottle with a sigh, shoulders tensing automatically as you anticipate the inevitable way that this ends. 

You can see the glassy sheen to Bobby’s eyes from where you are, the way he’s swaying slightly as he gesticulates wildly with the hand holding the pool cue. You don’t need a breathalyzer to know that Bobby is way over the legal limit. Hell, all you have to do is spend more than a week in this town to know that this behavior is the norm, rather than the exception. 

You feel bad for the man, really. It’s no secret that he came from an abusive home. You remember the horrifying stories you'd heard about his father when you were his classmate in middle school. He was a nice enough kid-you remember him well–but when he grew up and got married, he wasn't ever able to escape the demons of his past. His erratic behavior was enough for his wife to leave with their two children. Last you heard, they lived in Maine. Probably about as far away as you can get from Hannibal without actually leaving the continental US. What he needs is therapy, but those types of resources are damn-near impossible to get out here. Everyone in Hannibal looks the other way as he drinks himself into a stupor every night. 

Occasionally, though, there will be an incident, and Bobby has to spend the night in the holding cells. You have a feeling you’re about to witness one of those incidents right now. 

The waving of the pool cue becomes more violent; he switches his grip, wielding the stick like a weapon as he continues to yell, spittle landing on his cheeks and his shirt as he slurs another insult. 

Getting up from your stool, you carefully approach the scene. 

“That’s enough, Bobby,” you state calmly. “I think it’s time to head home, how about you?”

“I think it’s time for you to mind your own fucking business, Cricket,” Bobby slurs back.

“Good one, Bob. Got anything else you wanna say to the off-duty cop?” You shouldn’t be taking the bait–you know it even as you say it, but you’ve had a shit day, and sometimes we all say things we regret, right? 

“Yeah. I wanna say… maybe you wouldn’t be such a fuckin' bitch if you had a good dicking.”

Several of Bobby’s pool buddies back away, eyes wide as dinner plates. 

“That’s enough. Go home. I don’t want to have to place you under arrest,” you say, trying to regain control over the situation.

“I could give it to you," Bobby sneers. "Give the uptight police lady a nice, hard, fu–"

With a heavy sigh, you retrieve your cuffs from the back pocket of your Wranglers and maneuver Bobby onto the nearest pool table. He's so drunk that he falls on his stomach without much effort on your part. 

"Aw, fuck I was only jokin’," he mumbles into the green fabric. 

"And it was real funny, Bobby. Hilarious even," you deadpan as you click the handcuffs into place. "Come sleep it off at the precinct, and you can apologize in the morning."

"M'shorry," Bobby groans as you manage to wrench him upright and guide him to the exit. 

It's only then that you notice the newcomer at the periphery of the scene–standing back, not intervening, but making it clear that he's on guard should things go south.

"Are you okay?" the stranger. "Need help?"

His nosiness annoys you. "Got it handled, thanks," you snap with a little more hostility than you mean to.

It's been a shit day.

You wrestle Bobby into the car and slam the door. On the way back to the precinct, you glower at the road in front of you while the man in the backseat begins an ear-splitting rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody. On tonight of all nights, you grumble to yourself. 

He's asleep before he even hits the threadbare pillow in the holding cell. You nod to your nighttime counterpart, Evan, who gives you a sympathetic smile.

"What was it this time?" 

"Some argument over pool at the Waterhole. Get him something substantial to eat when he wakes up, okay?"

"Always do," Evan replies. "You all right? He give you trouble or somethin'?"

"Just a shit day."

"Go get a drink and relax."

"'S'what I was trying to do," you gripe. "In fact–shit–I skipped out on my tab. I'm gonna go back and settle, and try again in the comfort of my own home. Dunno why I even go out."

“Beer’s cheaper at home, anyways,” Evan comments with a wry grin. 

“Another excellent point,” you throw over your shoulder, giving him a crooked grin as you walk back out of the building.

Palmer is waiting for you with his hands on his hips when you return to the Waterhole.

“Not sure what you’re giving me that look for, Palm, you know I always settle my tab.”

“Better late than never,” he grouses.

You bark out a laugh. “You say that like it’s been a day, and not–” you check your watch, “–an hour.” You slide your debit card across the stained counter. 

“Not gonna have another?”

“Nah, I’ve got better shit at home than the swill you serve here.”

You and Palmer stare each other down for a few moments. You aren’t sure who breaks first, but it’s almost always Palmer. The bartender chuckles and sticks his hands in his pockets.

“Shit, Cricket, you know you can’t stay away from the finest establishment in Hannibal.”

“It’s a good thing you’re the only establishment in Hannibal.”

“And it’s a good thing you’re a good tipper, or I would have banned you years ago.”

“Doesn’t seem smart to ban any of your customer base, considering the local population. It’s shocking you haven’t gone under.”

“Beer is always in demand,” Palmer says with a wink. “No matter what the economy’s doin’.”

“You’ve got me there.”

You glance around the bar. The crowd has thinned out quite a bit; day shifts start early, so the nightlife is pretty limited past eight pm. A few stragglers remain, including… him. The stranger. 

The newcomer in the suit is watching your conversation with the bartender with an amused smile. When he notices you looking at him, he raises his glass in salutation and gets up from his stool to approach you. 

“Buy you another?” he asks with a smile.

“I just settled,” you say evasively. 

“On me,” the man insists. 

“Surprised you’re still here,” you comment lightly. “Shouldn’t you be back on your way to St. Louis, or something?”

The man lets out a surprised, pleased laugh. “You’re observant.”

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’re not from around here.”

He gives you another one of those wide, toothy smiles as he raises two fingers to Palmer, who nods. 

“Well, you’re partly right. I’m not from around here, but I’m not from St. Louis.”

“Where are you from?”

“Let’s save that little nugget for later,” he suggests, sticking out his hand. “Marcus.”

You shake his hand, still feeling a little wary of the newcomer. If Marcus is bothered that you don’t offer your name right away, he doesn’t show it. 

“...Cricket, right?”

You laugh in surprise. “That’s what everyone calls me ‘round here.”

“What can I call you?”

“Officer.”

Palmer sets two bottles of beer down on the counter in front of you, and you shrug and take one of them. Marcus gently taps his own against yours and takes a sip.

“To new horizons,” he says with a smile.

“To doing the same shit every damn day,” you respond with a wry grin. 

“Do you do that every single day?” Marcus asks, jerking his head in the direction of the pool tables, referencing Bobby’s arrest.

You let out a huff of laughter and take another swig. “More than I’d care to, I’ll say that much.”

“He have a history of drunk and disorderly conduct?” Marcus asks.

“He’s got a history of that, and a whole helluva lot else,” you say with a sigh. “He’s mostly harmless, though. Doesn’t do much else but drink and cause trouble nowadays.”

“He did worse in the past?”

You shrug and wave Marcus off. “It’s a tale as old as time,” you say. “Grew up in an abusive household and then turned around and perpetuated it himself when he grew up. Pushed away his family, his wife, his kids, everyone really. But now the only one he ever hurts is himself.”

“He said some pretty awful things to you earlier,” he points out.

“If words had any effect on me, I wouldn’t have made it a week in the force,” you say. “Takes a lot more than that to rile me up.”

“Can’t really imagine you all riled up,” Marcus says, his eyes twinkling with playfulness.

He’s flirting with you. 

“I save it for special occasions.”

“So what, you just arrest this guy over and over again, letting him sober up in the holding cells until he does it again?”

Your smile fades. Tipping your bottle back and draining it in three large gulps, you set it down heavily on the table and give the man across from you a stony look.

“I don’t know what big city you’re from, Marcus, but this town is different. We take care of our own, no matter how difficult they’re being. We’ve done everything we can–tried to get him into rehab, into therapy programs, support groups… it never sticks. At this point, he’s spinning out, and the most I can try to do is to treat him with kindness and make sure he gets a decent meal while he’s sleeping it off in the drunk tank. Enjoy your night.” 

You get up, spin on your heel, and you don’t look back at the man again. 

You don’t know how you didn’t put two and two together until this moment–the minute you walk into the precinct at eight am sharp to meet the FBI Agent assigned to this case–your case.

The suit. The discerning, assessing gaze. The bravado. The big-city attitude.

Marcus is the FBI Agent.

His eyebrows raise for a moment when you walk into the bullpen, but other than that, he doesn’t appear surprised. He introduces himself as Agent Pike, sticking his hand out for you to shake as if it’s the first time he’s done so. You give him your last name–and only your last name–and grip his hand a little more forcefully than usual. 

It only causes his smile to widen. 

You exchange a quick conversation with Evan, who fills you in on the rest of the night (uneventful) and lets you know that Bobby is already out of the drunk tank and back at home. 

“Did he say anything?” you ask.

“Like what?”

“Like an apology.”

“Should he have?” Evan asks. “Did he do something last night?”

You shake your head. “Nah. It’s fine. He probably doesn’t even remember, anyway,” Turning to look at Marcus, you add, “Ready to head to the museum?”

He takes up all the space in the passenger seat of your squad car and then some. You do your best to ignore him as you drive, but your eyes keep returning to his dark, slightly mussed hair and the way his broad shoulders fill out that suit of his. It’s hard not to notice how attractive he is.

"So. Washington."

"Huh?" Marcus looks at you, questioning.

"That little 'nugget' of information you said you'd save for later. You knew, didn't you. You knew I was the cop on this case."

"Well, it wasn't hard to guess when I had a copy of the Hannibal city directory and there was only one female officer on staff."

"Guess you've got us all figured out, huh," you mutter irritably, and the car returns to silence.

“Mark Twain Lighthouse,” Marcus reads from a road sign, breaking the quiet. “Mark Twain Memorial Library, Mark Twain Museum.”

“Bet you can guess what this town is famous for,” you quip.

“How many guesses do I get?” 

“I mean, I’d hope you already knew about our claim to fame, if you read even one sentence of the case file we sent you.”

“You mean the case about the five missing original illustrations by Norman Rockwell from Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn from the Mark Twain Museum?” Marcus says wryly. 

You scowl at his nonchalance. You knew it; you knew the FBI would send some big city asshole who didn't give two shits about the town's heritage.

"I'm sorry," Marcus says, suddenly looking concerned. "Did I say something wrong?"

"This was my case, you know," you mutter, keeping your eyes on the road. "Finally, something besides domestic disputes handed to 'Officer Cricket,' and I have it for less than twenty-four hours before some Washington bigwig comes and takes it off my hands."

"Wha–hey, hang on a second. That's not what this is," Marcus insists. 

"Isn't it?"

"No. No, it's not like that. I'm here in a consulting role. You still get credit for being the lead officer on the case, but it'll be our forensics team and our analysts providing support. That's it."

You look sidelong at Marcus. His expression is open and unguarded, and you can't detect any dishonesty in his body language.

"That's it?" you repeat cautiously.

"Is that what all the animosity was about?" Marcus asks, without any malice in his tone. 

You mumble something about having a chip on your shoulder, and Marcus chuckles beside you.

"I wasn't always from Washington, you know," he says. 

"No?"

"Little town called Bastrop."

"Bastrop?" you laugh. "Never heard of it."

"Little place just east of Austin," Marcus says, letting a little bit of southern drawl slip into his voice.

"You're from Texas," you say, surprised. 

"Yes ma'am," he answers playfully. “I worked out of the FBI field office in Austin for almost ten years before getting promoted to HQ.”

“Congrats.” You give him a small smile as you pull into the museum parking lot. “This is it.”

Marcus charms Mrs. Ingram immediately, which doesn’t really surprise you at this point. The man seems to be made up of mostly charm, with a side of goofy jokes. The FBI’s forensics team won’t be at the museum for another hour, so Marcus takes inventory of the crime scene, snapping a few photos while you chat with Phil, the security guard. 

When Marcus’s team arrives, the scene is a flurry of activity. Evidence is bagged, frames are dusted, and more pictures are taken. True to his word, Marcus defers to you, letting you run the scene despite clearly having a relationship with most of the team. 

The day is a busy one–after spending the entire morning at the museum, you head back to the precinct to complete all the paperwork. Marcus buys the precinct lunch, and as you eat, he ends up launching into an informal, unintended lecture about art preservation, restoration, and how important it is to properly care for stolen art that his team has recovered. It makes you see him in a new light–not simply a representative of a faceless, uncaring organization that’s coming in to take over your case, but the leader of a team who cares deeply about every item they’re tasked with recovering. The man himself is painfully competent, every sentence out of his mouth demonstrating his level of experience and his love for the field.

Despite not knowing much about art yourself, you find his enthusiasm addictive. You can’t help but engage with him–asking about past cases he’s been on and listening intently to his stories, which range from the mundane to the incredibly dangerous. 

“...so a couple of us ended up going undercover and smuggling our own recovered artifacts back across the border,” Marcus is explaining, waving the remains of his sandwich in the air as he smiles fondly over what sounds to you like a harrowing escape from a Mexican cartel. 

You know you’re hanging off of every word, although you try very hard not to look like you’re hanging off of his every word. Still, the lunch break runs long, and suddenly you remember you were supposed to be back on patrol an hour ago.

“Shit,” you hiss, checking the time, making Marcus wince sympathetically.

“Listen to me, rambling on and keeping you from doing your job,” he says self-deprecatingly. “Seriously, tell me to shut up next time.” 

He stands when you do, offering his hand for you to shake. 

“Here,” you say, handing him your card instead, which has your work cell on it. “Just in case there’s any issues.”

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, looking into your eyes. “Thanks for entrusting this case to us–I know there’s always a level of territoriality that comes with involving the FBI, but I’m here to promise that the whole point is to work with you–not to come in and take over.”

You nod, and finally accept his hand, shaking it firmly. “We got off on the wrong foot, but I’m glad you’re here. You’re obviously more than knowledgeable about the field–more so than any of us–and I know I can speak for all of us when I say we appreciate the extra support.”

Marcus’s hand is warm against yours. The handshake might be firm, but it still feels as though he’s cradling your hand gently–as if he’s holding something delicate and precious in his palm. His eyes are endless; you feel as though you could read every emotion within them if you looked long enough. As you look, the corner of his mouth pulls up in an adorable, crooked grin.

“It was good to work with you today,” he says with finality. “See you bright and early tomorrow.”

You aren’t expecting the call that comes in the next morning–before you can even show up at the precinct to work with Marcus on the art theft case.

Bobby Pearson’s landlady, barely understandable through her hiccuping tears, explaining that she usually lets herself in to give him his mail, found the man hanging from the ceiling fan in his living room.

Your heart hammers dully in your chest as you notify the coroner and drive–lights on, this time–to Bobby’s place, with Sergeant Hubbard in tow.

“Cricket,” his landlady sobs as you get out of the squad car.

“I know,” you say soothingly, putting a hand on her shoulder to provide what little comfort you could.

“It’s awful. Oh, God, he’s just hanging there, and–” 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it. Why don’t you stay out here and wait for the Coroner while we go in, ‘kay?”

You take a deep breath to center yourself, then open the door to Bobby’s little duplex apartment.

“Jesus,” Hubbard mutters behind you. 

You swallow hard at the sight of the man suspended from the ceiling fan. The inherent wrongness of witnessing a dead body never ceases to unsettle you. You think you could do this job for five hundred years and still never become desensitized to death. It’s the stillness that disturbs you the most; no one realizes how much bodies move until they aren’t doing it. 

You glance around the room, taking in the toppled chair a few feet away. Fuck. You knew Bobby was spiraling, but you had no idea it was this bad. You think back to the other night–were there signs that you missed? Something that could have alerted you to the fact that he was in crisis? 

The flash of a camera lights up the dim room, and you flinch.

“Sorry,” Hubbard mumbles. His face is grim as he snaps a few more pictures–the rope, the chair, Bobby’s puffy, swollen face–

Feeling nauseous, you look down at your shoes. 

Somewhere in the apartment, something beeps.

“Fuck was that?” Hubbard wonders.

“Sounded like it was coming from the kitchen.” You move further into the house to investigate. In the kitchen, nothing immediately stands out to you, until you realize the microwave timer is blinking the word “END” in perpetuity, alerting an occupant who can no longer hear that his food is ready.  

Frowning, you open it, taking in the reheated frozen dinner sitting–cold, but unfrozen–on the turntable.

“That’s weird,” you mumble.

“What’s weird?” Hubbard asks behind you.

“He made dinner, but didn’t eat it. If he was planning on killing himself, why make dinner? Why leave it in the microwave without eating it?”

Hubbard shrugs. “Forgot, I guess.”

Your frown deepens as you stare at the colorless potatoes and rubbery salisbury steak. Awareness tingles at the base of your spine–a little nagging voice whispering This isn’t right. 

The sound of the front door opening again makes you jump. 

“Hoooo, boy…” the Coroner breathes upon entering. “Dammit, Bobby.”

In your years as a cop, you’ve already learned that dealing with a body is an all-day affair. The day seems to pass you by as you deal with the fallout–phone calls, paperwork, and of course, the solemn affair of cutting Bobby down from the fan in the most respectful way possible. You don’t even remember to look at your phone until just before your shift ends–so the text message from Marcus that reads, “Time to jump on a quick call re: forensics?” is hours-old by the time you see it.

You tap out “Sorry, had a work thing come up that occupied the whole day. Connect tomorrow am?”

The reply is almost instantaneous. “Buy you a drink after a rough day?”

Your thumbs pause over the keypad. On the one hand, going out for drinks with Marcus makes you feel uneasy. There’s a mutual attraction there, you can tell that much, and you don’t trust yourself not to indulge in a little stress relief if Marcus tries to initiate it. 

And you have a feeling he might. Try, that is.

On the other hand, coming home to an empty house with nothing to keep you company but the image of Bobby Pearson’s oddly dangling feet that’s branded on your eyelids makes you physically recoil. 

“I’d ask where, but I think we both already know the answer.”

“I’ll be there around seven,” comes Marcus’s response.

At home, you turn the knobs in the shower until the temperature causes steam to fill the entire bathroom. The water burns your skin, but the pain is welcome, and you aren’t sure how long you remain unmoving under the stream until the hot water abruptly runs out. Yelping in shock, you hastily squirt some body wash onto a rag and frantically rub it up and down your body, then spin around under the stream three times as fast as you can to remove the suds before turning off the faucet. 

Shivering and dripping wet, you suddenly start to laugh. 

Marcus is already seated at the bar of the Waterhole when you arrive. The suit coat is gone, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows as he nurses a whiskey. You’re suddenly conscious of the fact that you’re dressed quite a bit nicer than you were on the night you met him–you even wore the non-muddy boots… and the jeans that you know make your ass look good.

“Hey,” you say by way of greeting, sliding onto the barstool next to him. 

Marcus slides an identical cocktail glass over to you. “Thought you might need something a little stronger than beer,” he comments.

You snort. “How did you know?”

He shrugs, a faint glimmer in his eye as he watches you take a sip and wince at the burn in your throat. 

“Had a hunch,” he offers.

“Well, it was right,” you sigh. “Might need a few more of these tonight.”

“Must have been one for the record books.”

It’s your turn to shrug. “Not really. Just another fucking day.” You take another sip, and the burn is more welcome this time. “I think the fact that it’s so common is what so fucking depressing.”

Marcus doesn’t ask you what you mean, and for that, you’re grateful. 

“I don’t know what’s worse,” you grumble to yourself. “Suicides, or Fentanyl overdoses.”

Your companion is quiet for a long time. You aren’t in any shape to try and steer the conversation, so you take a few more sips of whiskey and stare into the middle distance.

“What made you want to become a cop?”

You snort again, even more unattractively this time. “Ten years ago I would have told you it was to help people and keep the community I grew up in safe.”

“What about now?”

Only one more sip remains in your cocktail glass, so you throw your head back and drain it, setting it down heavily on the counter. Palmer glances in your direction, a question in his eyes, and you nod. 

“I don’t fucking know,” you sigh. “Ask me tomorrow, maybe I’ll have a better answer then.”

Palmer brings over the bottle of Crown and pours another finger into your glass. 

“What about you,” you ask, only because it seems like the correct way to continue the conversation. “What made you join the FBI?”

Marcus grins, showing those perfectly straight teeth of his. At this distance, it seems less friendly and almost… predatory. You blink rapidly, shaking your head to dispel the thought. 

He tips his glass against yours, then drains it himself. “To make the world a better place, of course.” His smile is wry as he signals Palmer for another.

“How’s that going for you?” you ask. The question is tinged with sarcasm.

“Depends on the day, I suppose.”

“Ha. Fair.” You take another sip. “Guess it’s the same for me. Some days it feels like I’m making a difference. Other days it feels like I’m filling speeding ticket quotas so that the town gets enough fucking tax revenue for the year.”

“Hey now, getting the funds to fix potholes is a noble and worthy cause.”

“I dunno where it fucking goes, but judging by the state of 36, it ain’t going there,” you chuckle. 

“I happen to think you’re making a huge difference,” Marcus says soberly. “You get to do real, concrete things to help real people. One of the things I had to get used to in DC was that I didn’t feel like I was helping individuals anymore. It’s so much more high-level, sometimes I feel like all I do is send emails and have meetings. That’s why I like consulting,” he says, grinning at you. “I get to go to towns like this and actually talk to people.”

You pause with your glass halfway to your lips. “I… I guess I’ve never thought of it that way before.”

“You do good work,” Marcus tells you softly. His voice is full of sincerity; his eyes are deep, endless pools, and it feels as though they’re drawing you in. Licking your lips, you can feel the effect of the whiskey already by the way the skin of your tongue tingles slightly. 

“Thanks,” you say quietly. You aren’t sure what else to say. 

Your second glass is emptier than you thought. Had you really drunk it that fast? You huff a small laugh out of your nose, and swallow the last mouthful of whiskey. It barely even burns anymore. 

“‘Nother?” you ask, blinking hopefully at your companion. 

“If you like,” Marcus replies, giving Palmer a polite wave. 

“Ain’t nothing at the bottom of the bottle,” the bartender teases, refilling both of your glasses. “You two seem to be convinced otherwise, though.”

You ignore him and quickly take another sip, making Marcus laugh. 

“They say there’s only two kinds of people,” he says. “Those who drink to remember, and those who drink to forget.”

“If you’re about to ask me which kind I am, then you haven’t been paying attention to the conversation we’ve been having,” you tell him. 

“You drink to forget,” Marcus supplies. “You’re right, I don’t need to ask to know that.”

“Then what was the point of… of the thing you said?” you ask, frowning in confusion. 

“I drink to remember,” Marcus says quietly, staring soberly at his glass. 

“Remember what?”

“People. Old loves, old friends.” He takes a small sip. “The living, and the dead.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth.

“What else do you want to forget?” Marcus asks gently. 

“So I dunno if you are aware,” you say, swaying slightly in your seat as you gesticulate, “but female ossifers–officers–uh, they’re often handed sexual assault cases, domestic abuse, fuckin’... fuckin’ child neglect, that kind of shit. And I’ve had… I’ve–” you break off with a shudder.

“Had your fair share of those, huh?” he says, covering your hand in his.

“Mmm, ’s'warm,” you remark, closing your eyes and basking in the feeling. “It’s… it’s the ones that weren’t brought to justice that keeps me up at night,” you whisper, eyes still closed. “Sympathetic judges who give rapists light sentences. Wives whose request for a restraining order went ignored. Kids who–” you let out a tiny sob, “–kids who are spending their childhood in foster care because both of their parents overdosed in front of them. I… I fucking tried. I fought hard for them, and in the end, does it matter? Does it matter, when they’ll be fucked up for life anyway?”

“It matters,” Marcus says, his voice suddenly firm. “It fucking matters, Cricket.”

“Every time they walk free, it eats at me,” you continue, emptying your third glass. 

“Tell me,” he demands softly as Palmer automatically pours you another. “You’ve been carrying their names with you for years, maybe this is how you let it go.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal

[hellsbarnes]

୨ 𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (2)₊˚ପ⊹ 𝙟. 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙣 ୧

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin x civilian!fem!reader

summary: after sleeping with jake one too many times and getting nowhere, you decide to give up, not knowing how he truly feels.  

warnings: nsfw themes, 18+, minors do not interact, lots of angst with happy ending, unrequited love, mentions of sex, p in v sex, creampie, friends with benefits to lovers, mentions of casual sex (please do not read if you’re uncomfortable)

word count: 2.3k

author’s note: thank you so, so much for reading easy lover part 1! this is part 2 and the final part, i really appreciate the love for this two-parter and i hope you enjoy it! please remember to reblog, thank you!

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (1) 

“You alright?” you turned at the sound of Maverick’s voice from the bar, the pilot had a pair of aviators hooked on his shirt collar, sporting the usual navy jacket, a kind smile on his face as he brings his bottle of beer to his lips, the metal of his dog tags glinting under the dim lights of the bar. 

“Yeah,” you find yourself replying even though the correct answer was far from the one you were dishing out, word had spread about you and Jake’s argument a few days ago, and you had received sympathetic looks from the rest of the dagger squad. You had over the days realised how the squad was missing a certain aviator, whenever they dropped by for drinks and perhaps a game of pool or darts, Coyote was here and he wasn’t, you tried to push it off as him being busy, sweeping any other thoughts away. 

You hated how you had a lump in your throat whenever they tried to ask the obvious question, “are you okay?” and you had as always said yes, or of course with a smile that you forced, you didn’t know where you got the strength from to continue with your shifts especially after the tears you had shed after you got home last Friday, choking on your sobs as you tried to tell yourself that it was over, that whatever you and Jake had was really over. 

You couldn’t, no you wouldn’t be the woman that he could push aside once he was done screwing you. You had cried, knees pressed to your chest as you struggled to breathe, your bottom lip trembling as you begged whatever god that existed to please, please stop the pain that you were going through. 

You knew it was the right thing to do, yes leaving was what you should have done months ago, in fact you should have never started this entire chapter with Jake, but then again, you’ve never felt so damn empty, your heart ached and your body cried for a chance to feel his arms wrapped around you just once more, to feel his lips press against your skin just for the final time. 

Then again, that was what you said every time he somehow landed in your home, “this is the last time Jake”, you two would screw as though it was him getting deployed the next day, hands roaming each other’s bodies, your legs tangled with his as he presses kiss after kiss on your neck, his hips thrusting at an even pace as he brings you to orgasm. 

You felt as though you were in heaven, euphoria filling your veins as you come undone beneath him, but being with Jake was like having a drug you couldn’t kick, you were pulled down back to earth, back to reality once you both come down from your highs, and he would as usual, say goodbye, a beer of a coffee, or even you could never get him to stay, and he’d leave, the feeling of emptiness filling your chest as you watched him walk out, the door clicking shut behind him as he did. 

“About Hangman-”

“Mav, please, with all due respect, I don’t wanna know what you gotta say about Seresin.” you replied, lifting his beer as you wiped the bar table with a damp rag, sighing when he stops you, holding your rag, stopping you from getting distracted with what he was going to say. “One minute, please” he asked and you sigh, you nod, “okay, what is it” you answered. 

“Whatever happened between the both of you, (Y/N), it’s affecting him-” “Mav, h-he doesn’t care about me” “What I’m saying is that something’s off with Hangman, he’s not flying properly, ignoring safety concerns, getting shot down during training, hell, he got the entire squad doing push-ups for two days” Maverick said.

You find yourself beginning to worry and you hated it, you hated the feeling that washed over you, the concern that you felt for him, the panic that filled you when Mav continues with how Jake almost went into G-loc after ignoring everything that the instructor had said, jeopardising his own life as he attempted to achieve 10Gs, not impossible but risky as hell. 

“Hangman’s egoistic and all but he’d never do this, he’s being handed his ass to (Y/N), and I’m covering for him the best I can.” “Pete, look I-” “What I’m saying is if this continues, he’s gonna be asked to leave,” “What?” you motioned, shocked as Maverick nodded, “the admiral’s not happy with his performance and especially him not being focused during training.” 

“I’m not asking you to continue whatever you got there with him, but, maybe end it right, so both of you can get back to your lives” “Both of us?” “Pen said you are out of sorts lately” Maverick adds and you reminded yourself that they stayed together and they would talk, obviously. 

“Right,” you reply and he shoots you a reassuring smile as he gets up. 

Maverick’s words hung in your head as you started closing up for the day, it was nearing twelve at night and you had just finished stacking all the chairs up, Penny had left with Maverick a while ago for a date that they had planned, and you had urged her to go, telling her that you would close up. 

You sigh as you put the last blueberry muffin into a paper bag, it was your favourite muffin out of all the flavours, and Penny had always asked you to take it home after knowing you often left your house without breakfast, she was probably the kindest boss you’d ever met. 

You were about to plug your earphones in, preparing to leave the bar when the bell dinged, the door squeaking open, signalling a customer. “I’m sorry we’re closed, you could come-” you turned as you spoke, stopping in your tracks when you saw him, your gaze met his green eyes, the same green eyes you had cried over. “We’re closed” you re emphasised, and you were about to pick up your bag when Jake steps forward, stopping you. 

“Jake, I need to leave,” you said as he grasps your hand,  “wait please,” he starts and you shake your head, “Seresin, stop, we’re done” “(Y/n) don’t walk away, please” Jake continues and you reply, ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat when he leans closer, “i can’t play your games anymore jake, i-it’s too much, we have to stop, you have to stop.”.

“Just listen to me, before you choose to leave, listen to me, and after all i’ve said you can make a decision,” 

“If I still choose to walk away?” you questioned and he nods, “then I won’t stop you, I’ll leave you be,” he responds, calm as he awaited your answer, your eyes met his emerald ones, and you could see a flicker of sincerity swimming in his irises and you caved, “okay, tell me”. 

“You said i spin your world off its axis, well you, you drive me crazy, i can never get you out of my head-“ 

“Jake-“ 

“No, i’m not done” Jake cuts you off before you could stop him, “I’ve tried so fucking hard to not think about you, but i can’t, and now i don’t think i want to stop, because, not being with you drives me nuts and being with you also drives me nuts. Your smile, your scent, (y/n) you have no idea how much i want to be a part of your world” he says, and you swallowed at his words, still not sure if you should believe him despite the waves of genuinity he professed, you licked your lips, and questioned, “Then why didn’t you do something about it previously, Jake it’s too late,” 

“Don’t say that, don’t, please, i always thought emotions made me weak, but since being with you ; knowing you has changed me, if anything i feel at ease knowing you’re with me, so please (y/n)” Jake pleads and you felt tears well up in your eyes, your bottom lip quivered as you try to stop the dam from breaking.

“I loved you Jake, i loved you so much, every time you’d leave, god, you had no idea what that did to me.” you reply, your thoughts screaming at you to walk away, to leave him, buy your feet refusing to move, your heart remains rooted with the man that stood before you. 

“Loved?” Jake asks softly, hurt flashing across his face.

“What?” 

“You said you loved me, as in past tense?” 

“I-i, don’t know,” you stumbled on your words as you try to steady your thoughts. 

“(Y/N)” Jake breathes and you reply, “I can’t stop loving you Jake, I’m trying and-”

“Then don’t.” he answers and you shook your head, “don’t do this to me, please Jake I-”

“Please, just one chance” he says, lips barely inches away from yours and the walls you built up to fence him out crumble, “one chance” you whisper, heart thundering in your chest as he crashes his lips on yours, the kiss was feverish, his lips moulding onto yours perfectly almost as though it was always meant to be, his large hands cup your face gently, holding you close to him as you kiss him just as passionately, your fingers gripped his uniformed collar tightly as you feel him deepen the kiss, slowly backing you against the bar table.

It felt different compared to the tens of times you had kisses Jake, this was full of emotion, gentle yet so intense that you were sure the moment would forever be burned into your memories of him. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked softly, attempting to pull away when you stop him, ‘don’t” you whisper, with that he presses his lips back on yours, his fingers working on the button of your jeans, popping it open easily as he pushes it down your thighs, the denim pooling at your feet, his hand brushing against your soft skin, moans spilled from your lips as he presses open mouthed kisses down your neck, you felt heat pooling at your core, your body shivering under his touch that you had so shamelessly been craving. 

“Jump” he mumbles against your skin and when you do, he ever so easily hooks his arms under your thighs, your feet automatically wrapping around his waist as he places you on the bar table before his lips find yours once more, your tongues intertwine with each others’, you threw all caution into the wind, giving all of you to Jake. 

His fingers finds your covered clit, groaning when he finds the slick of your arousal brushing against the pad of his digits, “so wet” he mumbled as your chest heaved, he pulls his pants down, the outline of his cock obvious against his black boxers, “I-I don’t have a condom” he starts and you shake your head, eyes hazy with lust as you look up at him, “don’t need one”. 

“(Y/N) you-” 

“I wanna feel you, please” you replied,  your thoughts were clear, and you knew what you wanted, Jake’s restrain breaks, your eyes, blown wide with lust, and the way you bite your lip, not knowing just how much control you had over him broke the reins he had, you had him right where you wanted and Jake loved it. He pushes your panties aside, pressing his cockhead against your swollen folds, your little mewls of pleasure as he pushes into was angelic. 

You whimper, your fingers digging into his shoulders as Jake fills you up the hilt, stretching you so deliciously, “so fucking tight” Jake groans as he bottoms out, giving you a few seconds to adjust to his thick length before he started moving, your hands gripping onto the edge of the table as his hips snap, his fingers digging into your waist, you were sure it would leave marks that would last for days, but you didn’t care, too buried in the pleasures that he gave you.

Your heels digging into his back, you were a moaning mess, trying your best to hang on for the ride as Jake thrusts grew erratic, your name falling from his lips, “gonna cum, Jake” you cry out, “Just let go, I got you baby”. He urges, and you knew he wasn’t far, “cum inside me” you mumbled, looking at him through your thick lashes and he groans at your request, his cock twitching, “sweets-”

“Please, I need it” you whimper, your fingers carding through his hair as you bring his head down, crashing your lips onto his, your walls clenching around him as waves of pleasure washes over you, stars clouding your vision as you come undone, your pussy pulsating around Jake.

‘ffuck, I-I’m gonna cum” he groans, pushing into you, burying his face in your neck, holding you close as he spills his seed in you, filling you to the brim as he presses gentle butterfly kisses on your neck, he pulls away, eyes meeting yours, “I love you so damn much” he says, voice gentle, soft, a comfort that you never felt before, his words full of sincerity and the look in eyes genuine, “i love you too” you reply, leaning your head against his chest, the both you spending a few moments, his arms holding you close as he presses a kiss your head, in his arms, you felt safer than you’ve ever been. 

Jake cleans you up, his fingers interlocking with yours as he picks up your bag, shaking his head playfully when you say that you could carry your own things.

 “That’s my job now sweets, don’t argue” he says, with a loving smile on his face as he leads you to his car. “Penny’s gonna kill me if she ever finds out.” you said and Jake shrugs, “no one said she had to angel, it’s our little secret” he replies, shooting you a mischievous wink. 

“You're insufferable,” you say jokingly as Jake starts the car.  

“That’s why you love me baby” 

note: that’s the end of easy lover, i truly hope you enjoyed this two-parter, please remember to reblog, thank you so much! 

jake seresin taglist: @klmpun @malindacath​ @alexxavicry​ @meghannnnnn​ @sunnysofia​ @fangirling-galore​ (tags are open! fill in my taglist form if you’d like to be tagged)

easy lover taglist: @klmpun @malindacath @sunnysofia​ (tags are closed, due to this being the last part, thank you for reading!)

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman #jake seresin smut #hangman smut #jake seresin angst #hangman angst #jake seresin fluff #hangman fluff #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman x you #jake seresin x y/n #hangman x y/n #jake seresin series #hangman series #jake seresin x fem!reader #jake seresin x female!reader #hangman x female!reader #hangman x fem!reader #jake seresin x f!reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin one shot #jake seresin blurb #jake seresin headcannon #top gun maverick #top gun fluff #top gun fanfiction

[eiightysixbaby]

make a good girl bad

‘my love, did i mistake you for a sign from god?’

word count: 4.3k

pairing: eddie munson x chrissy cunningham

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. smut smut smut smut!!! chrissy’s family is described as being religious - chrissy rejects/slanders this. if this makes you uncomfy please do not read! mention of chrissy having strict parents, unprotected piv, creampie, oral (m receiving), praise and slight degradation, borderline corruption kink? if you squint? chrissy’s not a virgin but eddie definitely rocks her world. brief mentions of drugs (weed).

summary: chrissy’s sick and tired of being hawkins’ resident good girl now that she’s over a year out of high school. when she sneaks her way out of sunday mass with her family, she finds herself claiming a whole new religion: eddie munson.

a/n: aah okay i switched it up from the eddie x reader content for a minute and am feeding my hellcheer heart! needed some nastiness between these two. i absolutely adored writing for them and i’m so happy with this! this fic was loosely inspired by the song ‘the summoning’ by sleep token (listen here) as well as ‘snake charmer’ by blink-182 (listen here)

“You’re running a horrible temperature, dear. I guess you’ll have to stay home from church this morning” Chrissy’s mother tsked, setting the thermometer on the bedside table.

Chrissy’s little ruse had worked, and she gets to skip Sunday mass. Which never, and I mean never, happens. Her mother looks disapprovingly at her before speaking “Well, you’ll have to make up for this next week - perhaps we’ll attend Saturday and Sunday mass. We’ll be back later this afternoon,” and with that she leaves the room, shutting Chrissy’s door behind her.

Chrissy smiles to herself after the door is shut, silently celebrating her small victory.

She doesn’t like lying to her parents, she really doesn’t. But she’s just had enough. The thing is, Chrissy is sick of the life she’s living. She doesn’t want to go to church with her parents every weekend- she doesn’t give a shit about any of it. She’s sick of being a good Christian girl, a golden child, ‘perfect little Christine’. Chrissy turned 20 at the end of June, she finally feels like an adult, and the wild temptation buzzing in the warm summer air has her going stir-crazy. She wants nothing more than to escape her white-picket-fence suburban oasis, sick of being trapped in the prim and proper bubble her mother holds her captive in. In all honesty, Chrissy really can’t be mad at anyone but herself. She could’ve gone away to college, could’ve left Loch Nora in the dust, but instead she chose to stay at home (she leads a cheer camp for the high school in the summer and is a co-coach for the squad during the school year). And she loves what she does, really. But she’s so damn sick of her parents strict rules and playing the role of the good girl all the time.

Chrissy wants to be bad. She wants to get drunk and smoke weed (well, she already does that but.. she wants to do it freely, without a care in the world). She wants to wear tight skimpy clothing, and dance to raunchy music. And most of all, Chrissy wants to have sex. Lots and lots of good sex. See, her ex-boyfriend Jason never cared much about her pleasure while they were together, always making sure he got off and then… they’d be done. Nothing good for her. She genuinely deserves to win an award for Best Supporting Actress for her performed enthusiasm in bed with him. Anyway, Chrissy wants to get fucked, hard. And she thinks she knows just the guy to go to.

She’s been scheming and plotting and planning the downfall of her parents’ golden girl and her entrance into general badassery for a couple months now. And it starts with Eddie Munson (hopefully) ((most likely)). Eddie has a reputation for being the town freak, but he also has a reputation for being insanely fucking good in bed. Chrissy always eats up the gossip on Friday night hangouts with the girls, ‘I heard his dick is like, huge’ ‘He had some girl screaming in the bathroom at Lisa’s party last week..’. She first got to know Eddie for herself when she started buying weed off of him in secret, back in her senior year. She developed a crush on him quite quickly, but she suppressed it, never spoke to him outside of those private moments - what with Jason keeping her attached at his god damn hip to parade around like a show dog. It was nearly impossible to escape his grasp. But now that she’s single, she’s been dipping her toes further in the water with Eddie. Getting a better taste of what he’s like. Talking with him longer when she goes to buy from him, lightly touching him on the arm, dropping more and more subtle flirtations, which he always reciprocates. And god, he’s extremely alluring. He’s sweet as pie, adorably goofy, and always treats her like a queen when they meet. He always has, even when she was too wrapped up in Jason to be a better person to him. But honestly, the moment she first spoke to him she knew she needed to have more.

As soon as her family leaves the house, Chrissy leaps out of bed. She slips out of her pajamas and puts on a short little sundress, one that she never wears around her mother, and turns in the mirror to get a glimpse of herself. The dress stops just below her ass, and it hugs her gently in all the right places. She puts her hair in its typical ponytail, and spreads a dusting of coral colored eyeshadow on her eyelids, finishing the look with mascara. When she deems herself ready, she grabs her car keys and heads out the door. Her palms are sweating as she grips the steering wheel, but nevertheless she backs out of her driveway and exits her neighborhood. Her family usually goes into town after church - and today there’s a bake sale at the library - so she knows she has a good few hours to make her own. She hums along to Heart on the radio as she drives, the breeze blowing her bangs off of her forehead. She pulls into the trailer park, spotting Eddie’s van gleaming at her from the back of the park. She pulls up to his address and quickly applies a thin layer of shiny gloss to her lips, puckering them at herself in the mirror, before exiting the vehicle. She almost feels guilty for coming over unexpected but.. he did tell her to stop by any time she needed anything. And right now, well.. she needs something. She needs him.

She steps away from her car, knocks on the door… tugs nervously at her strawberry blonde ponytail. She hears footsteps inside, shuffling around heavily. The door swings open and there stands Eddie, clad in a tattered Judas Priest t-shirt and a pair of plaid flannel pajama pants, curly hair mussed slightly. She feels her mouth water at the sight of him, like Pavlov’s goddamn dog drooling at the sound of a bell. The thoughts racing through her mind right now would have her mother calling for an exorcism if she could hear them.

“Cunningham, hey…” he starts, fidgeting with the silver rings on his fingers. “Did you, uh.. did you need something? Run through that weed already?” He asks, smiling lightly at her.

“No, no I’ve still got plenty left,” Chrissy responds, and her voice feels small. “I’m here for a different reason, actually? I’m here for you.”

Eddie, very clearly confused, opens and closes his mouth, but no words come out.

“I, um, need a favor from you, Eddie.” She’s shifting on her feet, nervous to say what’s on her mind.

“Well, shit, Cunningham, anything for you,” Eddie gives her a toothy smile.

“I- I need you to fuck me, Eddie. I want to have sex with you,” Chrissy blurts, and she swears she’s never been this bold in her life. Her cheeks heat up as she looks up at him. “I was supposed to go to church with my family this morning but I faked sick… got out of it… and, um, I figured it was the perfect time to ask you.” she’s more nervous now, suddenly feeling like a bug under a microscope, like maybe this is stupid. Maybe she should just go back home.

Eddie genuinely, honestly, is convinced he died in his sleep or something and this is some sick joke his mind is playing on him. Chrissy’s huge blue eyes are staring right through him and he feels like a pile of goo. He’s liked Chrissy since before she ever started buying from him. Admired her from afar, wondered why she stayed with Asshole Jock of the Century Jason Carver, when she clearly deserved so much better. He never thought he stood a chance though, and it really wasn’t his place to ask questions. Chrissy shifts on her feet, and the sound of sneakers on gravel brings Eddie back down to earth.

“E-Eddie?” She squeaks out, and he realizes he must be standing there like an absolute doofus, drooling over her like she’s a piece of cake.

“I- you- I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to be rude, but you snuck your way out of church, came here on a Sunday morning to… have sex… with me?” Eddie manages to get out, his cheeks turning pink.

“I’m not missing much, I don’t believe in any of that crap anyway,” Chrissy starts. “And I’m just- I’m so… tired of being ‘Chris the Priss’. I- I need you, Eddie.”

And who is Eddie to deny a woman what she needs? He opens the door wider and motions for her to come inside. She obliges, and stands facing Eddie in the living room of his trailer.

“Can I ask why you chose me, Cunningham? Why you want to sleep with me of all people? I mean, what about Carver? I know you guys broke up but, it’d probably be easy to get him back in bed” Eddie laughs a little, raising an eyebrow at the girl.

“Jason is the last person I want to sleep with, honestly,” Chrissy counters. “He- he’s never once made me cum, everything’s all about him,” she rolls her eyes. “I know you have a reputation, Eddie. The girls are always talking about you,” she’s looking up at him shyly through her lashes as she speaks.

Eddie ponders this, tilting his head at her. The hookups Eddie’s had are really just something to keep him occupied. He’s not a shitty guy, really, only ever getting in bed with girls who are fully on board with a ‘one night only’ kind of thing. But if Eddie’s truthful, a lot of the stories about him are rumors. Some are true, of course, he’s not gonna sugarcoat it. But some things get exaggerated as words go down the telephone line, like, he doesn’t have a ten-inch cock, and his body count is definitely under twenty. All he knows right now is that he’s gonna give Chrissy everything she wants and then some, because it’s her. No one else matters as much as her.

“A reputation, huh?” he questions, braving a step closer to Chrissy. Chrissy feels like she’s floating. He’s close enough to feel his breath on her skin.

“You’re sure you want this?” He asks.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Please, Eddie. Tired of always being the good girl. Need to be bad for you,” Chrissy pleads, reaching out to twirl a lock of his hair around her fingers.

“Shit, sweetheart, you don’t have to say it twice,” and with that, Eddie is dragging the girl to his bedroom.

Chrissy barely lets him shut the door behind them before she’s on him, kissing him hard, desperate. Eddie’s hands make their way up to her hair, tugging it out of the yellow velvet scrunchie and running his hands through it. His tongue prods into her mouth, twirling around hers, kissing her like he’s starving. Chrissy groans softly into his mouth, she needs more. She’s tugging at the collar of his shirt, moving them both backwards before she falls back onto his bed. Her doe eyes are staring up at him, begging him to join her there.

“Christ, Chrissy, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Eddie breathes, pulling his shirt over his head before joining her on the mattress.

He helps her out of her dress, discarding it onto the floor hastily. Beneath it, she’s wearing a lacy light pink bra that cups her breasts in just the right way, and matching light pink underwear with a little white bow at the top. Eddie’s practically creaming his jeans at the sight, taking in all of her slender frame and trying to pin it to memory. It doesn’t take long before her mouth is on his again, kissing each other like it’s their last moment on earth. She’s palming Eddie through his pajama pants, reveling in the growing bulge she feels beneath her fingertips.

“Need- need these… to come off…” Chrissy pants through heated kisses, grabbing at the waistband of the soft flannel pants.

Eddie wastes no time in taking them off, and his boxers follow suit. Chrissy audibly gulps, he’s so much bigger than she expected. She’s heard the rumors about his size, yeah, but you never know how much of that is true. And while it might not be quite as massive as people say, it’s still a sight to behold. Her mind is racing, fleeting thoughts of every way she wants to have him spin in her head, making her dizzy.

“Eddie… please- wanna suck your cock,” she moans as he trails kisses down her neck.

Eddie’s heart is racing, he still doesn’t fully believe that he actually, really, has Chrissy Cunningham in his bed right now. Like, seriously. When do the camera crews come out and tell him this is all a big prank? A couple years of pining uselessly after this girl, writing songs about her (and feverishly denying that they’re about her to anyone that asks — fuck you, Gareth), reading into their flirty interactions a little too much. And now she’s here, practically naked, begging for his cock. Whatever good deed he did to deserve this, he’s thanking his past self for it.

He sprawls himself out on the bed for her, legs spread, cock resting lazily against his tummy. All Chrissy does is look at him and let out a pleased hum, and Eddie’s cock is twitching desperately as if on command. Like she’s some seductive snake charmer, controlling his body with her mind or some shit. Chrissy eases herself onto her knees on the carpeted floor, eyeing Eddie’s cock in front of her like it’s a meal and she hasn’t eaten in months. Eddie positions himself on the edge of the mattress, now mere inches away from her face. Chrissy’s grabbing for him, needy and eager, looking up at him with those big, ocean blue eyes of hers.

Her dainty hands grasp his cock, and a moan escapes him without warning. Before he can catch up with what’s happening, she’s wrapping her pretty pink lips around his swollen, leaking head. She teases him at first, only sucking on the tip, really making a show of it all. The shiny gloss on her lips starts to smudge off, coating his dick in a glittery shimmer, and it only makes him harder. She releases his head with a ‘pop’, gazing innocently up at him, and Eddie thinks she might be a real life angel.

“Mmmh, Eddie, you taste so good…” she’s giggling, one hand still wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing lightly, batting her eyelashes as if she doesn’t realize the effect she has on him.

“Fuck, baby. Please keep going, need to feel more of that pretty mouth around me,” Eddie’s gently fisting her hair, urging her back onto his cock.

She obliges immediately, this time taking more of him into her mouth. Eddie gasps, the warm wetness of her tongue sending zaps of electricity to every nerve ending on his body. And, fuck, she sucks his cock so well. Bobbing her head back and forth expertly, fitting as much of him into her mouth as possible (which isn’t all that much, but what she can’t fit in her mouth she makes up for with her hand). Honestly, Eddie finds it ten times hotter that he’s so big she can’t fit all of him. The slick feeling of her mouth around his cock is driving Eddie crazy, and he watches her as saliva starts to drip past her lips, leaking down the rest of his shaft and onto her hands.

“So pretty when you get all messy for me, sweet girl. D’you like having your mouth full?” Eddie coos, cupping her cheek with one hand and rubbing his thumb across the soft skin.

Chrissy melts into his touch and nods eagerly, humming an agreement around him. She loves the feeling of him in her mouth, and every moan and noise of appraisal he gives her gets her wetter and wetter for him. Her tongue licks a stripe up the underside of his length and it sends him reeling, one hand gripping the sheets beneath him. She focuses her mouth’s attention on his balls, sucking them into her mouth while she pumps his cock with her hand. And, fuck, Eddie’s so glad he’s sitting down right now because his knees would’ve given out if he were standing.

“Ffffuck, Chrissy, feels so good,” Eddie moans, and he can feel himself reaching his release.

But he can’t cum yet, not before he gives her what she really wants. He taps her on the shoulder and coaxes her up onto the bed with him.

“C’mere, baby,” Eddie’s voice is smooth as honey, “-as much as I’d love to cum all over that pretty face, I need to fuck you dumb right now.”

Chrissy feels her heart rate increase as she wipes the spit from her mouth, nodding incessantly. She straddles his lap, grinding herself down onto him, riling him up further. Eddie groans softly, grabbing her hips and slipping his fingers underneath the waistband of her panties.

“Take these off for me, sweetheart, need to fill you up,” he murmurs, and his eyes are trained intently on her as she slips the pink cotton fabric off.

She positions herself perfectly above his cock once more, and Eddie guides her slowly down onto him. She gasps at the intrusion, the stretch to fit him. She’s never had anything close to this size inside of her, her fingers pale in comparison, and her insides burn in all the right ways.

“Mmmph- fuck, Eddie. S-so big, fuck,” she whines, screwing her eyes shut as he slowly pushes further and further in to her velvety walls.

“I know, baby, I know. But you can take all of me, can’t you? Gonna let me stuff you full of my cock?” he’s watching her every movement in awe as he speaks to her, going slowslowslow so as not to hurt her too much.

“Yes, need to take all of you. G’na take all of you,” Chrissy replies breathlessly, “Fill me up, Eddie, all the way. Need it so bad, please,” she begs, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

Eddie complies to her request, bottoming out in her tight, dripping cunt. He throws his head back against the pillow with a low groan, and he feels her clenching around him as she adjusts.

“You feel so good around my dick baby, so fucking tight,” Eddie’s praise has her whimpering on top of him, and she starts to rock her hips slowly.

“N-need more, Eddie, more,” she whines, trying desperately to get him to move.

“Yeah? Y’want me to fuck you silly, Chris?” Eddie taunts her, and her cheeks flush red.

“Yes, ohmygod, need you to fuck me so hard.”

And Eddie doesn’t need more convincing. He thrusts up into her, his pace relentless from the get-go. Chrissy’s whimpering and moaning and squealing on top of him, bouncing slightly to meet his thrusts, and Eddie loves the way his balls slap against her skin as their bodies meet. Filthy sounds leave Chrissy’s pouting lips as she rides him, the tip of his cock hitting just the right spot inside of her, heat pooling in her belly.

“What would your parents think if they could see you right now, hm? Split open on my cock, being such a slut f’me, when you should be in church,” Eddie tsks, his thrusts picking up speed “You’ll be repenting for your sins after this, sweetheart,” he’s all but growling at her, his voice low and thick, and it sends electricity right to her dripping core.

None of this should be as hot as it is, but Chrissy grows more and more turned on with every reminder of what she should be doing right now… and what she’s actually doing instead. And fuck, she’ll repent for her sins forever if it means she can keep having Eddie like this. If the Chrissy from a couple years ago could see her now, she’d be covering her ears, shielding her innocent eyes. But current Chrissy wants nothing more than to let go around Eddie’s fat cock, wants him to fill her up with all of his cum as she milks him dry.

“You gonna cum around my dick, baby? Gonna let me feel you cum?” Eddie’s encouraging her, and she feels the coil in her belly grow tighter and tighter as she chases her release.

“Yeah, Eddie, wanna cum for you. F-feel so good,” she keeps bouncing on him, moving herself as quickly as she can to get where she so desperately needs to be.

Eddie rubs his thumb over her clit, moving in quick circles, making her yelp at the sudden friction.

“Oh! Fuck, Eddie! Eddieeddieeddie,” his name spills from her mouth over and over like a prayer, like he’s her salvation, like she’s never needed anything quite as much as she needs him.

“I’m right here, sweet girl, c’mon. Let go for me,” Eddie’s words are enough to push her over the edge entirely, finally letting herself free fall into bliss.

Her walls flutter around him, clenching and releasing over and over and over as her body slumps down into him, her face buried in his neck. Chrissy’s never felt anything like this before, never got anywhere close with Jason, never hit quite the right spot when she’s played with herself. She feels sexy, she feels free, she feels raunchy and nasty and dirty as she soaks Eddie’s throbbing cock. She feels like a new version of herself.

Eddie continues to buck up into her, chasing his own high, grunting in concentration beneath her heaving body. She kisses his neck, licks and nips at his ear, whispering praises to him.

“Come on, handsome, need you to fill me up. Need to feel you cum in my pussy, Eddie, want it so bad,” she urges, snaking slender fingers up and down the sides of his body.

“Fuuuuuuck, y’sure you want it inside?” Eddie pants, so so close to release.

“Yes, god, yes. Make me yours Eddie, please,” and she doesn’t quite know why she said it like that, where it came from, make her his. But it’s all Eddie needed to finally snap.

Thick, gooey ropes of cum coat Chrissy’s insides, and she groans as she feels his cock twitching slightly against her sensitive walls. She rocks her hips gently back and forth a few times, getting every last drop out of him before giving up. When he’s finally spent, he pulls her body down onto his, pressing their chests together. He kisses the top of her head, big hands splayed across her back as her breathing finally starts to slow.

“How was that, sweetheart? Everything you needed?” Eddie smirks at her, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. “Better than singing hymns at church with a bunch of old farts?”

Chrissy snorts at this. “Yeah, Eddie. Everything and more. Definitely better than church,” she hums, satisfied, big blue eyes searching his brown ones. “Thank you. For that, you didn’t hav-”

“Cunningham, don’t you dare say I didn’t have to do that,” Eddie presses a finger to her lips, shushing her. “How on earth could I say no to a perfect girl like you?”

Chrissy’s cheeks flush at this, and she buries her face in his neck, suddenly embarrassed despite the fact that he just fucked her into oblivion.

“Chris?” Eddie asks, petting her hair gently.

“Hm?”

There’s a pause. Eddie swallows. Chrissy’s heart beats faster. Why is her heart beating faster?

“When you told me to make you mine… uh, what exactly did you mean by that?” he chews on his lip nervously, voice suddenly pitched higher.

Chrissy feels her mouth go dry. Shit, he caught that. “It- it just kind of slipped out, I’m sorry, I hope it didn’t make you uncomfortable,” she admits.

“No, no. God, Chrissy, no way. I just, uh, if you were serious…” the rest of the sentence catches in his throat, he’s unable to say what he wants when she’s looking at him the way she is. “I’d…. I would make you mine, if you wanted that,” he finally forces it out, eyes averting her gaze.

Chrissy beams, crooked teeth making her all the more endearing as she reaches up to squish his cheeks, turning his head so he’s looking at her.

“You mean you’d give up your Sex God lifestyle all for me?” she teases, making him blush.

“I’m willing to reel in my charm and be a ‘Sex God’ for you and you only,” he jokes back, and she rolls her eyes. “But you’re gonna have to start coming to Sunday school, right here in my bed, so I can teach you some lessons,” he says, tone extremely serious but his smirk gives him away.

Chrissy laughs, throwing her head back a little.

“I’d like that Eddie. I’d really like to be yours,” her voice is soft as powdered sugar, honey blonde hair falling in his face as she presses her lips to his.

“Consider it a sealed deal then, sweetheart. Chrissy Cunningham, cheer queen, good girl gone bad, Sex Goddess, is my girl,” Eddie boasts.

Chrissy swears there’s hearts in her eyes as she looks at him. She’s positive she can’t live without him, wondering how she ever did before today, clinging to him like a savior. Like he was the missing piece to her puzzle, and now she can finally be who she wants to be.

Chrissy doesn’t go to church anymore after that. Instead, she spends her Sundays wrapped in sensual bliss with none other than Eddie Munson.

#eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #eddie x chrissy #hellcheer #hellcheer smut #eddie x chrissy smut #hellcheer oneshot #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x chrissy cunningham

[altrodent]

Sundress

Pairing: Abner Krill x reader

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, slight NSFW, little make-outish, friends with benefits, lots of flirting from other characters (besides Abner), PDA (Public Display of Affection)

Summary: Abner was living a totally “normal” life… until he saw his best friend in a sundress. ❤️‍🔥

(PS: does this photo look small out of editing (like when it’s posted) or is it just me??)

It was a rare occasion that The Suicide Squad would get to go on a badass mission to save the world. This wasn’t the first time, but the last mission of just tracking a small drug cartel wasn’t as fun as your current mission.

“Operation: Sun n’ Gun” Waller announced, the current mission list consisted of Harley Quinn, Bloodsport, Peacemaker, Ratcatcher 2, King Shark, Rick Flag, Polkadot man, and you! This was your first mission with everyone, except for Polka-dot man. As amazing as it was, you two had actually grown more together in prison, seeing as he was the only one able to get you to come out of hiding.

“Question-“ “No questions until I say so, Christopher. Your mission is to uncover a cult that plans on summoning some sort of Kathulu like demon from the ocean. As ridiculous as that sounds, I’m sure you’ve seen the human-sized weasel, so don’t think about the demon too much. Any questions?” Chris raises his hand, Waller ignores him and calls on Bloodsport, “How the hell are we gonna blend in, in a place like that?” He makes hand gestures towards himself, with the way everyone is dressed, he has a point. “We have that covered, and if we don’t have any more questions, we can get you all suited up and dropped down there.” She turns off the projector as we all make our way to a room, with in which eight people stand, each with a costume bag. They’re a thick white material so you don’t see what’s underneath “Jesus, do we really need to dress up?” Bloodsport groans, Waller taps your shoulder to give you the signal to let her through “It’s necessary if you don’t want me to eradicate you. Now, they will hand you the outfit, then your will get changed and head straight to the drop ship. Are we clear?” She eyes everyone, her eyes landing on your “You will need extra time, seeing as you will be distractor number one, understand?” Your brows furrow “Distra- what do you mean?” She sighs, “talk and walk, I’ll discuss it with you while you change. The rest of you, hurry up, and get dressed out.”

“So what’s this about me being distractor number one?” You step into a small dressing room, closing the curtain behind you. “As shocking as it may seem, the cult leader is obsessed with women, and with various amounts of research into his ‘type’ I felt as if you were the best candidate.” You open the bag “Is this a dress?” She leans against the changing room “I asked most of my men what they think women on the beach look most attractive in, and while I expected them to say ‘Skimpy Bikini’s’ or even nothing at all, the majority said Sundresses. Strange, but they know what would happen if they were to lie to me, so I trust their responses.” You exhale, loud enough for Waller to hear “I’ve done some fucked shit, but this is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever done... or wore.” You turn it around looking at it from every angle, it isn’t even on you and you’re already concerned. “Look if anything happens, everyone else will be there to help… especially Abner Krill, he seems to have taken a liking to you.” You laugh a little bit “Feelings mutual.” You mumble to yourself, biting the inside of your lip just thinking about him, he’s cute, quiet, and as thrilling as you could ever imagine. He would sneak off and find you during free time, and if he feels like it, maybe gets a little touchy. But after two arms through the sleeves, the sundress is on “holy shit…” you step out, the only person left, looking more than perfect. You could almost see a slight smile forming at the corners of Wallers mouth “You’re ready. Hurry up and get on the drop ship. You have work to do.” You nod and quickly hurry to the ship. It’s fitting in all the right places, short in the most flattering way, and god damn you had to admit you looked hot.

“Woah.” “Holy shit!” “What happened to you?” You hop onto the drop-ship, everyone inside staring, even Colonel Flag of all people. Your face turns red from embarrassment, but there’s just something you can’t seem to not notice. Krill is sitting there, just looking at you. While he normally smiles once you spot him and then look away awkwardly, he is just staring. From shoulders, to thighs, he just can’t seem to get enough. You sit next to Abner, his eyes still scanning over your body. Cleo, Harley, and even King Shark still spewing compliments, “You look very nice in the dress!” “You’re so hot, OMG! We could be like- twins!” “PRETTY FLOWERS”, and you delivering them back. Peacemaker making inappropriate remarks, while Bloodsport just makes quick peaks with undeterminable facial expressions. You still turn back and see Abner, not looking at you. You gently graze your fingers over his hand, “Hey, you doing okay?” His head shoots up, as he was recovering from his daze. “Uh- yeah-“ he gazes finally meets yours and he offers you a soft smile. Peacemaker laughs way too loudly “He totally wants to bang!” Abner looks away, ashamed “Don’t worry Polka-man, I would too, trust me-“ you shoot Chris the most painful daggers, “What? It’s a compliment, ever heard em?” You grimace “Chris, I will shove this umbrella so far up your ass, I swear” Flag stammers into the conversation, “I will say you look very nice.” You smile, “Thank You, Colonel Flag.” He smiles back, Chris pouting in his seat.

The drop-ship lands and quickly lets you all off. “So we just have to stay on the beach all night and wait for the cult to arrive?” Flag asks Waller, “Yes, and remember if you deviate-“ “We lose our heads…” you all say in unison. “Well, we get to have a fun day in the sun before we uncover a cult.” Flag says, grabbing some of the luggage. “Did Waller provide these?” Cleo asks, “Nope, I just don’t want to be bored for however the hell long the cult takes.” Bloodsport and King Shark grab the rest of the stuff before everyone else goes ahead. “After you” Flag winks at you, you blush. You go ahead and catch up with Abner “Hey” he smiles at you, biting the inside of his lip. You lean your head against his shoulder “Hey, you feeling better?” He nods “Yeah, sorry… it’s just rare to see you out of orange. You look…” you can hear his breath hitch as he tries to avoid looking at you. “Stunning.” He says trying to hide an oncoming smile. Getting a random burst of confidence, you shoot back “Well you can look at me as much as you want before the mission really starts” you can hear Cleo “oooh” to her rat, Sebastian. He mumbles, “I’d like to do more than look.” You genuinely didn’t hear what he said, but it couldn’t have been that important… right?

After about 30 minutes of walking through the jungle, you reach the beach and set up. Immediately, you realize the only fault of the disguise… you can’t swim. There wasn’t a bathing suit or anything in there, so unless you want to strip, you can’t get in the beautiful, clear water. You pout, laying on your beach towel. Although you wouldn’t really care just swimming in your undergarments, Chris had to be creepy and say ‘he wouldn’t mind seeing that’, which earned him a slap across the face. After a minute of pouting someone sits next to you, casting a light shadow on you. You look up to see him, “Abner, you don’t have to stay up here. Go, swim and have fun.” He leans back on his hands “They’re doing their own thing. Besides, I don’t want you to be lonely.” You smile, as you sit up be at his eye-level. And with a burst of, what can only be assumed as lust, Abner’s hand quickly reaches to yours, and his hands wander mindlessly. “Abner-“ his face leans in close to yours “yes?” His breath clashing with your own, his hand finding its way to your thigh. “What about the others?” His lips inching towards yours “I don’t give a shit what they do anymore.” His open hand reaches for your face as his lips clash with yours, and you’re down for the count. Your lips melt into his, and his hand that was placed on your thigh makes its way up to your waist. He earns a pleased moan from you that echos between your mouths. You can’t hear the others whispers over the sounds of the waves, but like Abner said, you don’t give a shit what they do anymore. Your back reaches the towel and Abner quickly starts to slightly hover over you. Once he pulls away, he starts leaving kisses around your jaw and neck. He loves the way your legs squirm when he touches the right spots. Your arms slowly work their way up his caging arms. “Abner…” he hums as his lips make their way down your arm and to your thigh. Your arms retract to hide your blush ridden face, his lips slowly growing closer and closer to the inside of your sundress. Hands wandering, heat rising, situation escalating. He pulls away before he goes too far, and holds your head in his hands “If I see any of them looking at you the way only I’m supposed to, I’ll do something rash.” He says calmly. “I won’t let them.” You both slowly sit up, as he gently moves you to his lap. “You’ve been praising me this whole time Krill, and I haven’t gotten a chance to do the same for you.” You pout, he leans his forehead against his “Don’t worry about it, love. I like seeing you in this… and in this way.” His almost liquor laced words keep making you want to come back for more, but you have to resist as much as you don’t want to. “Yes, but I like seeing you like this too. I’ve never seen you in just shorts before… I must admit, it’s much better seeing you this close.” You tease, he smiles shyly. “Maybe after this mission, if Waller lets us go… we could have our own beach date?” You cup his face in your hands, “Abner Krill, are you asking me out on a date?” He averts his gaze, as if he didn’t just ravish you on the beach in front of others. “W-well, I mean if-“ you bring a finger to his lips “I’m just teasing, Abs, I would love to go on a date with you.” His gaze returned to you, seemingly melting with love. “Words can’t describe how much I cherish you, love.”

You lean in before someone touches your shoulder “Sorry, Krill, but the Cult leader arrived, and we need your lover girl to go for him.” He pouts, as Flag helps you up. “I’ll be safe, Abner. I have You after all” You send him a smile before straightening the dress out.

“So, I just go over there, hope he’s seduced by me and get intel?” Flag nods “yep.” You give him a confused look “But why me, and not Harley or Cleo?” He straightens his posture “Well, out of all of us, you’re exactly his type. And if I may say, you do look very nice, so it should work.” You grimace “I don’t even wanna know how you figured out his ‘type’ of woman.” He seethes “You really don’t but, you’re ready just walk past him.” You fix your hair, puff out your sundress, and you saunter your way past him. He isn’t attractive, to say the least. Hell, you probably would’ve gotten with TDK before him. He’s scrawny, but has some muscles. Hair is probably the best feature, but has a hideous open scar on his face. You don’t stare too long, but as soon as you look away, he whistles “Hey there, Pretty Kitty, c’mere!” You walk over to him, and he’s basically foaming at the mouth when you walk up to him. “Well, what brings a pretty thing like you to this here beach?” You fake giggle “I just like the way the sun feels on my skin… why, should I be here for something else?” He leans in closer to you, as if he wasn’t a tiny bit terrifying to begin with he was humongous, at least 6’11. “Why don’t you come sit with me, I want to get to know you better” he holds out a hand for you to take, the pungent smell of old beer on his tongue. You take his hand, scared to see what he might do next “I’d like that.” He smiles “Good girl.” You want to barf, if anyone was going to call you that it’d be Abner… but we’re not gonna talk about that. He guides you to sit on his lap “Don’t be shy, now, baby. I won’t bite… unless you want me to.” His tongue, abnormally reptile shaped, you begin to wonder if he’s even human himself. Still, you keep up the act, giggling and blushing at his creepily “flirty” passes. “Take me out to dinner first” you drape your arms around his shoulders, “I can do a lot of things on a first date, baby.” He winks at you. Barf, gross, Ew, no, thank you. “Oh really… could you show me?” He smiles with an evil grin “I’d show you but we’d have to go somewhere more discreet.” You sigh, luckily your radio is on, so flag understands his signal. “What would you show me?” He leans in close to your ear, his hot breath tingling the peach fuzz on your face, all you can think about right now is Abner, how you want him to save you from this god awful mission “Whatever you want me to show you.” You lean into him, trying not to break character “Oh, my…” he chuckles before standing up with you still in his arms. He makes his way to the forest before he gets shot down by Bloodsport… and Chris too. The screams of other beach visitors echoing in the air, the beach eventually being fully cleared. He looks up at me with some of his final breath, “You fucking- you set me up whore!” You take one of his nearby beer bottles and break it on his head “I did, and you enjoyed it too!” You take the rest of the bottle and stab it through his chest. “Fuck! That guy sucks!” Quickly you’re scooped into a pair of arms, arms extremely familiar. “I’m so glad you’re safe. He didn’t hurt you right?” Abner checks your face for wounds “I’m okay, Abbie, I’m okay.” He holds you for a second before looking behind you in horror “What’s wrong-?” You’re cut off by the distant sound of chanting and eventually a giants roar. “No fucking way-“

“Are you kidding me?!” Everyone groans “I thought they needed their leader??” You drag your face with your hands before Waller comes back on the comms “Apparently, what you just did, is make their leader the sacrifice. I was hoping the sacrifice was just going to be our lovely Agent here, but whatever. Kill the demon and the cult members.” You’re furious “I’m sorry, re-fucking-peat what you just said?” Cleo gasps “She was trying to sacrifice you!” You turn to Flag “Did you know about this?!” He puts his hands up “I swear to god, I didn’t, you know that!” You huff “I don’t give a shit, I’m killing all of them, and when I am done, you better pray to whatever gods you all believe in that I don’t come back and kill the rest of you.” You argue, walking away… before quickly coming back “Okay, maybe not by myself, but- just come on!”

Operation: Sun n’ Gun: Successful!

Flying back to the prison, ready to be released was the best feeling. Well besides laying on Abner, and him being the most comfortable thing in your life. After your releasing, you did go on the beach date. It was quiet, empty, and most importantly; romantic. Now it was just you two against the world, and you both loved every minute of it.

~

(A/N): I’ve been meaning to write him for a hot minute, and with the sundress season coming up I couldn’t get him and his slutty man face out of my head 🤭 Anywaysssss… I hope you enjoyed! 🩷

#x reader #x you #fanfic #fluff #x you fluff #Abner #abner krill #krill #polkadot #polka dot man #polka dot man x reader #polka dot man x you #polka dot man x y/n #abner krill x reader #abner krill x You #abner krill x y/n

[deandoesthingstome]

Night Moves

Chapter 3

Pairing: Walter Marshall x OFC (Alexandra Pierce)

Series Summary: When Walter Marshall is called to investigate a homicide by the railroad tracks, he quickly uncovers an unsettling pattern. Alexandra Pierce just wants someone to find out what happened to her friend. She has some secrets, too. And Walter’s going to uncover them.

Word Count: 2661

Series Warnings: In general, this series will depict assault, murder, stripping, hooking, rough sex, make up sex, fingering, oral (m and F receiving), p in v sex in various positions, self-loathing, failed relationships, smoking, drug use, drug addiction, general violence, and maybe some comfort. +18, Minors DNI

Chapter Warnings: Grumpy Walter, general police investigation discussion, social work, mention of failed relationships.

Disclaimers: I do not own Walter Marshall, Night Hunter (Nomis), or any other characters from that movie, but I do own this OFC (Alexandra Pierce) and these words. Do not repost as your own. Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are more than welcome. It’s how I get my nourishment.

Header made by me, with pics found from Pexel.com and the internet. Dividers are not mine, but check out the masterlist for credit.

Playlist:  Night Moves Songs 8 - 11 Direct Spotify link here.

Masterlist

Walter shakes his head at Rachel with a frown and a deep crease in his brow as he steps through the door.

“Who was I trying to grab?” he asks, striding over to where Rachel has situated herself outside the bullpen. “Do we need to send a squad car out?”

Rachel heaves a sigh and rubs the bridge of her nose. 

“Alexandra Pierce. Says a friend of hers is missing, says she already tried to report it yesterday but that no one “gave a shit”, and wants to know what we're doing about it.” 

“What are we doing about it?” Walter widens his stance and crosses his arms in front of chest, tilting his head as he waits for Rachel’s reply.

“Well, I took down the particulars, but Ms. Pierce wasn’t interested in the standard answer of 'have you checked with her family?' Because apparently that was the same response she got yesterday and also her missing friend doesn’t have any family.”

“She seemed pretty upset on the way out. What’s the relationship if not family?”

“Says they know each other from the women’s clinic downtown, the one attached to the shelter. Ms. Pierce is a regular volunteer and her friend, one, uh…: Rachel flips her notebook open. “Trixie, Trixie McCabe. Hasn’t shown up in three days.”

“Okay, way to bury the lede, Rachel. ‘Trixie from the shelter’ sound like someone we might want to know about?” Walter glares at her with raised eyebrows and waits for the realization to sink in.

“Oh, fuck!” Rachel exclaims, a beat longer than Walter would have liked.

“Oh fuck is right. You got a number, an address for me?”

Rachel tears the slip of paper out of her notebook and holds it out for Walter. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe this didn’t click when she mentioned it.”

Walter takes a deep breath, desperate not to overreact and blow his top at Rachel. She’s not who his anger should be directed toward and he knows it. He reaches for the paper as he digs his cell out of the front pocket of his jeans.

The call rings to voicemail and he leaves his name and number with a message to call him back that he hopes sounds urgent enough.

“Alright, does she have your card too?” he asks, but Rachel shakes her head.

“She freaked out and walked before I could hand it over.”

Walter gives an exaggerated shoulder heave and eyeroll before dropping his arms to his side. It’s taking everything he has to control his temper at this moment, knowing he’s only just beginning to win Rachel’s trust again.

“What’d you say to her, Rachel? It’s not like you to upset a civilian reporting a crime.”

“I just asked how they knew each other and if her friend was a volunteer as well. She accused me of assuming Ms. McCabe was homeless and wondered if that was why no one cared to look for her. She started to raise her voice and I told her no one was accusing anyone of anything. I asked her to take a seat and try to calm down, at which point I’m sure you heard her exclaim and rush out.”

“Alright, well. I’m headed back out tonight after dinner. Gonna review those new files first. I’ll stop by her place on my way home and see if she’s around. Try to get some more information. You need anything else from me?”

Rachel shakes her head and apologizes again, to which Walter places a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“It could happen to anyone. Let’s just keep working the case, okay?”

He can see that Rachel knows he’s sugar-coating for her and he can see she appreciates it. She gives a tentative smile and nod before he heads to his desk to grab the files.

He grabs some takeout on the way home and sits at the kitchen counter, inhaling the burger before turning his attention to the files. There’s nothing new. Same M.O. Same shady locations. Same outcome. Women harassed while trying to survive. His blood is boiling.

He’s got some time before the clubs really get going, so he stretches out on the couch and shuts his eyes for a bit, but the words and pictures in the reports are swirling in his head and he can’t sit still any longer. He realizes he forgot the drive-by, so he grabs his keys and heads back out, punching the address into his phone’s GPS.

He presses the buzzer for the apartment number and waits a solid minute before buzzing again. No answer. As he’s about to leave, the door opens and a young couple bursts through, giggling and paying no attention to the scruffy man lurking outside their building. He shakes his head, even as he grabs the door before it closes, sliding inside and taking the stairs two by two to the 3rd floor.

He knocks on 305 with heavy knuckles, then listens for any movement inside. He tries once more, then turns as 306 opens across the hall.

“What’s all the racket?” a little, old lady calls, head peeking around the door.

Walter flips open his badge as he steps across the hall and tries to make himself as small as he can.

“Ma’am, I’m Detective Walter Marshall with the Minneapolis PD. Do you know the woman who lives across from you? Any idea where she might be?”

“What do you want with Alex? She hasn’t done anything wrong. You just leave her alone. She’s a good girl.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sure. I just have a few questions for her. Would you happen to know where she is tonight?”

“Tonight? Oh, dear. What time is it? Alex is usually home from school by now. Well, unless she has her other job to get to.”

“Do you know where she works?”

“Well, the University, of course.”

Walter takes a deep breath while he tries to make sense of what this woman is saying. She goes to school? She works at a university? She has another job? Or the university IS her other job?

“She works at the university this late at night?”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous. Of course not.”

Walter takes another beat.

“Okay, well, do you know where her other job is?”

“Well why would I know that? What kind of trouble is she in?”

“She’s not in any trouble ma’am. She came by the station earlier and I have a few follow up questions for her. Look,” Walter grabs a card from his wallet. “Could I ask you to give her my card next time you see her? And please tell her it’s about her missing friend.”

The old woman reaches a papery skinned hand around the door and grabs the card tentatively, looking back up at Walter.

“What did you say this was about? What’s she done wrong?”

“She’s done nothing wrong, ma’am,” Walter holds in an exasperated sigh. “I just need to ask her some questions about a friend she reported missing. Could you give her my card when you see her?”

“Well she’s a good girl and I know she’s not mixed up in any trouble, so you just leave her alone.”

“Alright, ma’am,” Walter backs away from the door, realizing he isn’t going to get much farther here. “You have a good night.”

He dials Mick on the way to his truck, but gets no answer and then remembers Mick had a family emergency. He also remembers how grateful he was that the commander saw fit to let him run the investigation with just Rachel and some other canvassing officers for now. He knows it’s probably because “it’s just hookers” but he doesn’t care. He likes to work alone anyway.

I have to get out of here. I can’t take this pressure anymore. All the nagging and questions. Where’ve I been? Why am I getting home later and later? Why don’t I answer the phone? God, she never stops. Acting like she was worried about me when she just called to see if she could pick me up something to eat. 

I didn’t mean to hit her, but if she won’t stop running her mouth, I’ll stop it for her.

I need to think now though. I did a shit job and fucked up royally. Couldn’t clean up my mess, which I shouldn’t have to make anyway, but now I’m worried. Worried they’ll start looking for more. 

I need to figure out a more secure spot for the others. Or at least see if I can camouflage the area a little better so no attention is drawn.

I put the bitch’s phone and purse where they belong in the river, but I kept a souvenir. Ten of ‘em actually. Just a little reminder of how no one gives a shit about these anonymous cunts but me. Once I take care of the others, I’ll go back for it. She won’t find it. She’s so oblivious.

“You lost, honey? You look a little lost." Sasha sidles up to the bear of a man sitting in her section, who couldn't look more unhappy to be here. 

She’s sure he’s a cop. He has that look that says he wasn’t exactly pleased with the shift he’d pulled and she also thinks he looks vaguely familiar but can’t place where. He has definitely not been to the club before. She’d remember this guy for sure cause he reeks of exactly the kind of virile, commanding masculinity she craves. The kind that’s just barely tempered with a tinge of self-doubt. The kind she doesn’t find very often and certainly not here. These guys all think they’ve got something solid to offer but it’s usually blatant insecurity and misogyny masked by bravado. Which can signify a little danger but never the kind she looks for.

"You know me?"

Well that was odd, maybe he isn’t a cop.

"Don't think so. I thought you might … I mean, you’re not from here right? You don’t sound like you’re from here. Now, you don't look like you don't know your way around, but like, are you here for ...?"

"It's not personal. It's business."

"Right, yeah. Well, listen," her lips breeze past his ear while she bends seductively to give a better view of her cleavage. "Buy me a drink, lemme treat you nice for a minute or two, maybe act like you're actually enjoying yourself. Perhaps whoever you're here looking for won't notice you sticking out like a sore thumb."

"I don't..."

"C'mon, one drink. What's it gonna hurt?"

Sasha takes advantage of his hesitation and nods to Vic at the bar.

"We'll start a tab for you," she smiles, easing herself onto his lap sideways, one arm wrapping around his shoulder and the other reaching across for his hand on the table. Sasha moves it to her hip and presses a little. "Hold me tight now, wouldn't want to fall off this steep cliff here."

Sasha jostles a little with his chuckle, but he stills just as fast.

“You don’t like my joke?” she purrs into his ear. “Doesn’t feel like a joke. Feels like I sized you up just right. Now sit and talk with me while I finish this drink before I have to get back to work, okay?”

Sasha picks up the watery vodka soda Janelle has placed in front of her along with a soda for her mark. If this bar knew anything, it was how to cheat a customer but Sasha isn’t complaining. If she had to actually drink the full amount of liquor she convinced patrons to purchase for her in the course of an evening, she’d be flat on the floor in an hour and would never be able to step foot on the stage, let alone twirl around the pole with any kind of grace.

“I’m Sasha, by the way. Who am I toasting here?”

“Detective Walter Marshall.”

Fuck. Sasha chokes a little on her drink as she inhales too fast in surprise. She thinks about mentioning Trixie, but she's nervous now because if this guy is anything like the rest of the pricks down at the station, nothing she says is going to make any difference when she’s dressed like this. Plus the DJ is playing her cue song and she needs to get backstage in about five minutes. 

“Oh,” she swallows another sip and clears her throat, trying to stay calm to figure out why he’s here. “You need to talk to the owner or something?”

“I need to talk to whoever can help. Wondering if anyone has gone missing lately or if anyone suspicious has been hanging around the club lately, making anyone nervous.”

“Well, not that I recall specifically. Between you and I,” she leans in a little more to whisper in his ear, “most of these guys make me a little nervous.” She closes her eyes slowly at the way he seems to reflexively grip her thigh a little tighter, but he relaxes when she pulls back to look him in the eye.

Sasha wants to continue her conversation with the only person who has ever made her feel remotely safe in this club, and is a little amazed it took him all of fifteen minutes to do so with about three dozen words, but her time is ticking. Plus he’d never take her concern seriously. He’s not here for Trixie. He’s here for someone else.

She takes a final drink and slips off his lap, dragging a hand across his chest and arm. It’s a standard move. The dancers do it all the time when they’re trying to convince a guy to buy some private time, but she just wanted to be connected to him a little longer. The muscles she feels send a jolt of heat to her already pulsing core. This guy could do some damage for sure. 

“I gotta get to work, but it was nice to meet you,” she bends low again and smirks as he finally breaks, glancing down to view what she has on display. “Detective.” She licks her lips a little at that one, then turns to head backstage, hoping he’ll stay for the show.

Walter Marshall isn’t one for strip joints. It skeeves him out watching all these lonely bastards leer and ogle at scantily clad women, knowing full well they won’t be getting anything real out of the exchange. Knowing full well these women deserve better than to be hustling for dollar bills from guys who probably couldn’t get it up if they had someone who actually wanted to be near them.

But he stays a little longer than he should. He wants to see more of her. And he knows it is completely unprofessional, using the department's dime to build a picture of a woman he doesn’t know at all. Against every instinct he usually has about women who put themselves on display like this, he wants more of her.

Her candy pink hair is obviously a wig, but her tits are all real and gorgeous at that. She also had an amazing smile and he sorta wishes he’d smiled back at her. It’s a fantasy, he knows it. But he stays a little longer and shifts in his seat when she comes on stage. 

He can’t be sure, but it looked for a moment like she was looking right at him, smirking to see him watching. When she spins, her gaze is directed elsewhere for what feels like forever until she drops her back against the bar, legs hooked high, arms stretched wide before gliding down along her sides, cupping her own breasts, and eyes staring straight at him from her upside down position.

He really can’t take it anymore. He stands and hands a couple twenties to the server just passing by and nods down at his table where his untouched coke and Sasha’s half-emptied drink sit side by side. This is gonna be a long fucking night.

Chapter 4 

Taglist:

Anything: @kittenofdoomage​ @mayloma​ @sillyrabbit81​ @fvckinghenrycavill​ @kebabgirl67​ @beck07990​  @mysweetlittledesire​ @summersong69 @mollymal (I can’t tag you two, sorry) (Also throwing in a few from the old days for old times sake - tell me if you want off please: @littlegreenplasticsoldier​ @anotherwinchesterfangirl​ @sebbytrash​ @feelmyroarrrr​)

Night Moves: @luclittlepond @geraltsyenn4eva (I can’t tag you, sorry) @enchantedbytomandhenry @kingliam2019  @henryownsme  @littlefreya @identity2212 @marantha @angelcavill66 @sweetdreamsofgelato​ @jeremyrennermakesmesmile​

#walter marshall #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall smut #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #night hunter fanfic #night hunter fanfiction #night moves #mine

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

EIGHTEEN - E.M

PART 1; PISS OFF YOUR PARENTS

Warnings: mentions of selling drugs, allusions to sex, ptsd, slight bullying

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Wheeler!Fem!reader

Summary: it's the last day of school before spring break and all you want to do is spend this break with your boyfriend. That is until the day leads to a gruesome end for one of your friends.

Wordcount: 2.3k

You waited in the back, watching the audience through the curtains, hoping that Eddie had turned up for today's pep rally. You knew he didn't like them but had asked if he could come, this was the furthest the basketball team had made it in years. 

You smiled when you saw him lingering in the back, dark denim jacket and large hair standing out in the crowd. You walked back with Chrissy who was talking to some other cheerleaders, ready to go on stage. 

You performed the routine, a wide fake grin in your face the entire time. You just smiled at Eddie in the crowd, glad that he had turned up for you. 

Once you finished the crowd applauded and you went and sat down in the front, keeping that peppy spirit alive. You cheered as the basketball team came out, smiling at your friend Lucas as he ran out behind the others. 

"First off I'd like to thank each and everyone one of you for being here. I'd also like to give a special shout out to the prettiest fans of all time, the Tiger cheer squad. Chrissy, I love you babe," Jason said before going on to his speech about how upsetting all the deaths had been. 

Your smile fell and the memories all began flashing. Like at Steve's house party when Barb had gone missing, or watching Bob get ripped apart, or Billy as the mind flayer killed him. 

They'd never know what you went through with all of it, that you knew what had happened to all of these people and the feeling made you sick to your stomach. 

"Tomight, we're gonna bring back the championship trophy!" He yelled out, the crowd cheering. 

You jumped back into the peppy spirit you needed, putting a smile on your face. You didn't care about the championship today, you just cared that tomorrow would be spring break and you could spend the whole time with your boyfriend. 

After the tediously long pep rally, you rushed outside, looking around for Eddie. He was standing on the other side of the courtyard and you rushed over. 

You ran out, straight into your boyfriend's arms and he picked you up, spinning you around slightly with a smile. 

Before you he never liked the idea of showing off girls in public, simply because he had never found the right girl. But now, as he looked at you, he knew that he wanted the whole world to know that he was so madly in love with you and you cared about him just as much. 

"I didn't know if you were gonna come," you said once he let you down, kissing you. 

He chuckled, "You know I couldn't miss an opportunity to see my pretty girlfriend in that stunning little outfit," he said, hands roaming to your ass and you let out a yelp at his cheeky move. 

"Munson, my brothers just over there," you stated, looking over his shoulder to see the three boys pulling disgusted faces at the display of affection. 

Eddke just hummed, "He doesn't care, I'm sure he's heard us before," he said, a dark gleam in his eyes as he looked down at you. 

You pulled away, hitting his chest lightly, "I've gotta go to my first lesson Eddie, okay, you gotta let me go," you tried to reason with him but he just wrapped his arm around your shoulders, beginning to walk to class. 

"Can't believe I have fallen for a girl who goes to class on time, leaves at the end of a cul-de-sac and has aspirations," he said with a chuckle, the two walking through the halls. 

People stared at them the whole time but they were used to it by now, one of the most popular girls in school dating the self proclaimed school freak wasn't what anyone had ever expected. 

You could spot some of the girls from the cheerleading team laughing at the two of you but you tried to shake it off, knowing they weren't your real friends and that once you graduated, you didn't have to see any of them again. 

He stopped in front of Miss Clicks class, Robin waiting at the door for you, "Why don't you just skip babe," he asked, forehead pressed against hers. 

"Get off me Munson," you said jokingly, pushing him away, "I've got lessons to go to and if you want to graduate this year, you should go to your lessons too," 

He groaned, walking away, hand on his heart, "You wound me princess, you are my achilles heel and I am perished," he said before vanishing round the corner, leaving you with a wide grin on your face. 

"Come on," Robin said and you chuckled, the two of you walking into the class.

At lunch, you sat in the cafeteria with Chrissy, noticing she was a little bit weird, "Hey, you okay?" You asked, frowning at her weird disposition. 

She nodded, "Yeah, yeah," she said, continuing to poke her food around the plate with her fork. 

They were all talking about the big game tonight but you couldn't stop looking over at your boyfriend as he joked around with your friends. You wished you had the nerves to go and sit with him for once, to not have to worry about the pressures of high school. 

You watched as Eddie hopped up, getting onto the table, "But as long as you're into band, or science or parties, or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets," he yelled out. 

The table with all the basketball players looked up at him, booing his speech. You just smiled, amazed at how he had the courage to stand up to everyone else. 

"You want something freak," Jason asked

"Sit down Jason," you said, rolling your eyes as you looked down at your food. 

"It's forced conformity, this what's killing the kids," he exclaimed, sitting back down at his table as his friends chuckled. 

"God, I don't know how you date such a freak," Myra, one of the girls from the cheerleading squad, said, giving you a dirty look as she continued to eat her lunch. 

"He's probably a freak in the sheets too if you know what I mean," one of the other cheerleaders, Elyssa, said. The whole group chuckled, looking over at you for answers.

Sure, they knew some details about your relationship with Eddie but you weren't one to gossip about things so private like that. 

"Come on guys, leave it alone," you said, eyes trailing over to Eddies. His eyes met yours and almost telepathically, you could tell that he was asking if you were okay. You nodded, a soft smile on his face. 

He got back up again in the dramatic fashion you were used to and he began parading around, standing in the middle of the rows. 

"If I don't blow this final, I'm gonna walk that stage next month, I'm gonna look principal Higgins dead in the eyes. I'm gonna flip him the bird, kiss my girlfriend in front of the whole school, I'm gonna snatch that diploma and I'm gonna run like hell outta here," he announced, his voice giddy. 

He was sure this year that he was going to graduate, he couldn't stay at high school for another year whilst his girlfriend goes to college and has a life without him. 

"Didn't you say that last year, and the year before?" Jeff questioned, a smirk on his face. 

"Yeah, well now I've got my motivation. My pretty girlfriend and I are gonna graduate and I'm taking her on a road trip wherever the hell she wants,"

You smiled up at him as he stood at the table, he held his hand out and you chuckled, grabbing it and allowing him to pull you up. He spun you around once, a blush spreading over your face at the action, "This wonderful girl is the only reason why I'm gonna graduate this year,"

"Thanks princess," he whispered before letting you sit back down, a giddy smile on your face and a firm red blush on your cheeks. 

"Well it's not like you actually study with my sister is it?" Mike questioned, scrunching his face up in disgust 

Eddie raised his eyebrows, a smirk on his face. Dustin faked a gag as he realised what they were actually doing instead of studying. Gareth and Jeff applauded their friends, laughing at his antics. 

"This year is my year, I can feel it. '86 baby," he announced, his voice echoing through the cafeteria. 

Just after school had ended and before the championship game, you were walking through the halls, ready to warm up for the cheerleading routine that you'd be performing. 

"Hey," you heard a voice call your name and turned to see Eddie standing nearby. You walked over, leaning against the wall. 

"What's up?" 

He took a deep breath, almost wondering what to say, "I was in the woods just now, with Chrissy Cunningham and-" he started. 

"Wait? You were in the woods? With Chrissy Cunningham? My best friend Chrissy Cunningham?" You questioned, unsure of where this was going. 

"You gonna let me speak princess?" He questioned before continuing with his story, "And she wanted to buy weed off of me. I sold it to her and then she asked if I had any of the good stuff so of course I said yes. Is she okay?"

You smiled at his consideration for your friend and honestly, you weren't sure what was going on with her. Now it explained why she was acting weird at lunch. 

"Thanks for telling me Ed, I'll check up on her later," you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek before he walked you to the hall. 

They stopped outside of the room where he played D&D with the boys. 

"Have fun at your game, I'll see you tomorrow for a week of unadulterated fun," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at the suggestion. 

You chuckled, "Thanks, hope your campaign goes well," you said before skipping off to the hall, cheerleading skirt riding up as you walked away. 

You waited behind the wings, listening to the show. You hadn't had a time to talk to Chrissy yet but you knew you had to, there was something clearly wrong and as her friend, you had to see if she was okay. 

"Singing for us tonight we have a very special guest, from Nashville, our very own Tammy Thompson," Higgins announced. 

You chuckled in the back, watching through the curtains. You agree with what Steve had said last year in the bathrooms after the whole Russian incident, she sounded like a muppet. 

"Why are you laughing Wheeler, that's my sister," Myra stated, eyes narrowing narrowing you. 

You just chuckled, turning to look at her, "Your sister sings like a muppet on crack," you stated before turning around, ready to go out after the awful singing finished. 

The whole time throughout the halftime cheerleading performance, all you could think about was how Eddie's campaign was going, you knew how excited he had been to get this final one ready. You were hoping you would've been able to go but you had to sit here and cheer every time a point was scored. 

After a long and very tedious game, 

You congratulated Lucas for scoring the last point before beginning to walk to your car, just wanting to go to sleep after the exhausting day you'd had. That was until you were cornered by the basketball team led by Jason Carver. 

"Where's the freak frankenstein Eddie huh, he didn't come to your game?" Jason asked as he walked past you as you headed towards your car. 

"Piss off Jason," you said, trying to ignore him. 

"You're not coming to the party, bride of frankenstein?" One of his other friends asked and you just rolled your eyes at the nickname. 

"I've got other plans," you stated before turning around, narrowing your eyes at Jason, "Have you seen Chrissy?"

"She went to get changed first," He said and even though you thought it was a bit odd you let it go, walking back to your car and driving home.

You called Eddie's House but nobody answered so you left a voicemail, "Hey, it's Y/N, just wanted to let you know the game is done, wanted to check up on your campaign. Call me back when you get this, bye," 

What you didn't know was that your entire life was going to change the next morning when you get a call from someone you were hoping never to get a call from.  

Series Masterlist Part 2

A/N, I didn't love the way I ended it, it felt a bit rushed but I'm super excited to write the next chapter. I will probably finish my Rooster x OC series first and then focus on this.

Taglist:

If you want to be added just message me, send me an ask or comment, I don't mind

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x wheeler!reader #wheeler!reader #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #eddie the freak munson #mj writes nonsense #eighteen series

[masterwords]

i'd rot in hell with you

Summary: Adrian Bale fucked everything up with his bomb. Pre-show musing on the Boston bombing that put Gideon on leave.

Pairing: none...but you know how my platonic Hotch & Morgan look so if you want to read it as a pairing, no one could blame you.

Warnings: bombs, severed limbs (not belonging to anyone we know), hospital

Words: 2.1k

Notes: Written quick and dirty for a Halloween request asking for Hotch passing out. I had about a million different ways I wanted to write him passing out, it's a favorite of mine, but this is the first version that I finished. We're in the thick of wrestling season with the kids now so my time is limited but I'm working my way through every request in my box.

Read on AO3: i'd rot in hell with you

**

“Go fish.”

Hotch coughed. It was a hacking, awful sound. Like there was gravel or glass in his throat. His eyes closed when he coughed, closed like it helped hide how much pain he was in. Derek looked away while he coughed, felt around on the little tray with his hand blindly until he found a card from the pond and pulled it toward him. They'd started with poker, but Hotch wasn't with it enough for that. The drugs they had him on for the pain, the intense coughing fits, the headache. Those all made it hard for him to concentrate and Derek was losing every thread of patience that was still intact basically playing both hands.

So they switched to Hearts. And then Crazy Eights. And then Old Maid. And now, they were at Go Fish. It seemed to be about the only thing at Hotch's speed. Derek didn't think he could find a card game to play if this hadn't worked out, but Hotch liked to play cards to keep his mind off of hospital things. It was a time worn tradition already. In this case, he could hold his hand of cards up, and he could squint to try and find matches or what was asked for, but that was about where his abilities ended.

That was fine, as long as Derek didn't have to grab his hand, sort through it, and try to remain impartial anyway. If that happened, he might be inclined to switch to a rousing game of 52 card pick-up.

“...Jack of Spades?” Hotch asked. He whispered it, groggy and slurred, a partial question. His lungs just wouldn't push out enough air for more, and his blinking was slowing, eyes staying closed longer each time. Derek knew his hand inside and out at this point, things were moving so slowly.

“Nope. Go fish, sucker.”

Well, that was outside of Hotch's capabilities. He waited until Hotch pointed at the card he wanted, sort of just indicated it with one finger and Derek slipped it face down into his hand. They had a system now. Three games in, things were going well.

Gideon called twice while they played but Derek was ignoring those calls. Hotch told him to answer them, even swiped at the phone on the table like he could outmaneuver Derek in his condition. “Back off,” Derek had warned, and Hotch attempted to glare at him, but it only looked like he was going to pass out.

Again.

“You need to talk to him.”

“Like hell I do.”

(x)

As bombs go, this one was pretty damn bad. They thought they had it. Adrian Bale was going to surrender, he was going to give himself up and come out with his hands in the air. With a false sense of security, Gideon deployed S.W.A.T and the few members of the bomb squad they had on hand. Hotch, in his tactical vest over one of his new suits, followed behind. There were other agents that swept in behind him. All in all, there were too many eggs in this basket and Hotch was trying to push it along as quickly as possible. He had misgivings about the ease with which Bale surrendered.

Bale would be his. The rest of them would secure the building, check for hostages, Hotch would secure the suspect. With cuffs in his hands, he jerked Bale out of his position in the middle of the lobby and toward the door. Far from gentle, he shoved him forward, forcing him to skip steps and nearly fall down the stairs. From behind Bale he couldn't see the man's smile, and when he transferred Bale to Gideon and started back for the door, to help SWAT with their final sweep, he heard Gideon's frantic shouting.

“GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!”

Well. He hadn't really even gotten in yet, but the force of the blast and the glass flying through the air took the ground out from under his feet. Like it just fell away from him and he was soaring through the air. As a child, like most children, he'd wished he could fly. Had even tried it once or twice with disastrous results...he'd long since given up that dream, and here he was flying backward in what felt like slow motion. He landed first against his tailbone and then his head slammed against the ground with nothing to soften the blow. The world went soundless, sightless. Everything went black.

That happened fast, and then the world came rushing back in a swirl of sulfur and smoke. And screams. So many screams he was certain he was in the flaming pits of hell. His skin was slicked with sweat and soot, there were shards of glass in his hair and those screams became his entire world. They flooded, in an out, piercing the strange silence that told him his ears would not be right for hours, maybe days after this.

But he stood. Had to, really. The building was smoldering, office furniture being reduced to coal. He stood up, steadied himself and stormed back into the building shouting for people he knew had been inside. Glass crunched beneath his feet, he slipped a few times in debris, in blood. There were people who cried out to him, but they were beyond his help. Just bodies, most of them, making the last noises they would ever make. Nothing really alive. There was an arm at his feet, and he felt the bile rise in his throat. Just an arm, a hand with a wedding band fused into the melted skin. He stumbled toward the corner, pressed his hand to the heat-soaked wall and threw up.

(x)

Hotch slept with that sort of hospital unease that made Derek nervous. He could see the pain lines deepening when he shifted. His back was messed up, but he wasn't dying and there were so many other people that were...they were just sitting around waiting. He was hooked up to machines and IVs with bandages around his head and his chest and his arms...more gauze than Derek had ever seen on a person. He looked like a mummy from all the old movies his sisters liked to torment him with. He'd never been a fan of scary movies. The gauze was yellow stained with iodine and brown with blood, he was a mess of bruised and bandaged flesh.

But he could smile, dammit. And he did. About what, Derek couldn't really figure out. What did he have to smile about?

When he finally answered the phone, he'd waited until he was certain Hotch was asleep. Not just fighting sleep, lost somewhere in that hazy middle ground where time doubled up on itself and he was both sleeping and awake...he was out.

Gideon was angry at him, but he sounded off. Strange. Bad.

Derek almost felt guilty for pushing him away, but he was absolutely certain that Gideon should feel guilty right now. While he'd been sitting watching a ventilator breathe for Hotch, while he watched him gag and cough when it was pulled out, Gideon was just...out there. He wouldn't come to the hospital. At first it made sense, he'd stayed at the scene, he was taking care of the mayhem but that wasn't it. He was avoiding it now. It had been over a day, things had settled, the rubble was nearly cleared and still he was avoiding the hospital. Even went so far as to ask Derek to meet him outside to talk. “He's sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“Out front, five minutes.”

He was hesitant, but the nurses coming in to change his bandages and administer another breathing treatment made the decision for him. Hotch didn't want him watching any of that. He didn't either.

But he also didn't want to talk to Gideon. Seeing him standing there, his complexion was almost gray. He looked like a ghost. “What can I do for you?” Derek asked it, like Gideon wasn't his boss. And maybe right now he wasn't. They were all sort of hanging by a thread, there was an IA investigation and they were all effectively suspended until it concluded. People died on their watch, and IA didn't care that Hotch was very nearly one of the casualties. He wasn't even out of the woods yet. That smoke inhalation was no joke, his lungs were trashed.

“I'll be taking some time off,” Gideon said, so matter of fact that it seemed almost shocking. The man had never been one to beat around the bush but Derek wanted to punch him in the nose. Make him bleed. “After last night, I...I might have...”

“Yeah. Okay. So what, it's just me and Hotch now? Except he's in a hospital bed barely able to breathe on his own so...what...the BAU is mine?”

“For the time being. You'll have Doctor Reid and Agent Jareau.”

Derek laughed. He couldn't help it. The sound was desperate and a little unhinged. Gideon didn't seem to mind. “Yeah. Thanks man.”

(x)

Hotch was standing right in front of him, but Derek could tell he really shouldn't have been. He looked dazed and a little wild. Around them glass fell like pounding rain, and he was talking to Hotch, but Hotch really wasn't hearing him. He was just staring at him.

“Come on, you need to go get checked out,” Derek said, reaching out to touch Hotch. He shifted away and shook his head, returning to Earth for just a moment.

“No, I'm not hurt, we need to see if there were any survivors...”

“Hotch, you've been in here for ten minutes looking. There's no one left that needs a medic...just body bags. You need to be seen before you...” He started to say pass out, but almost like it was a stage cue, Hotch took a step forward and the lobby...what was left of it anyway...seemed to stretch like taffy before his eyes. Everything went gray and his knees buckled. He fell to the floor so fast Derek didn't have time to react. He just crumpled, collapsed like a house of cards. His head hit with a sickening thud for the second time that evening and Derek screamed for help. Hotch had a pulse; he was breathing but God it sounded bad. There was this high-pitched whistling sound coming from his lungs, a horrific gasping sound and his ribs expanded so big on some of his breaths in that Derek thought they might crack. How long had he been in this building? Derek hadn't been there long, but it sounded like Hotch had been huffing the smoke for hours.

“HELP! I NEED A MEDIC!” What a ridiculous thing to say, at the site of a bombing. Of course. Everyone needed a damn medic. “Hotch?” he asked, tilting Hotch's chin upward, like he could open his airway. He had no idea if he should do that, if he was helping or hurting, he was just scared. “Hotch?!”

Hotch's eyes opened, his soot laden lashes fluttering like dusty moth wings against his cheeks. “Derek...” he whispered through barely moving lips. “I'm...”

“Shhhhhhhhh...” Derek said, pulling Hotch into his lap. If those medics were going to take their time, he'd just damn well sit here with Hotch and wait. There was nothing else he could do that he thought was even half as important. “I'm here. Not goin' anywhere. Just relax. Help is on the way.”

(x)

“Gideon's gone,” Derek said when Hotch seemed lucid enough to listen. Not talk, he could barely string two words together that made any sense at all. They either disappeared into a coughing fit, or they were complete concussed nonsense. “He's on leave. I dunno man. I don't know what the hell is going on. Everything has gone to shit.”

Hotch shivered beneath the thin blanket and let out a small cough. When he spoke, his voice was wet and teary. “Do you need to leave?”

Derek swallowed hard and shook his head. He should, he was probably supposed to. Expected to. If he looked at his phone he would find messages from JJ, from Reid, from Strauss. They had no one at Quantico to answer for this right now and the Director would be on the war path. He couldn't find it in him to care though, not yet. Maybe not ever. “No. I'm here. You just sit tight. We'll go back together or not at all, huh?” He wouldn't go down with the BAU's ship, not right now. He was tied to Hotch. His loyalty was here. This was the ship he went down with.

Hotch smiled. It didn't quite look happy or reach his eyes, but it was something. It was all Derek needed to make him sit back down on Hotch's bed and start shuffling those damn worn out cards for another intense round of Go Fish.

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #boston aftermath #criminal minds #hotch whump #aaron hotchner whump

[storiesofsvu]

Under Over Ch 26

Joe Velasco x reader Warnings: language, regular police talk. One more chapter to go friends!

Despite the early hour, returning to the precinct was already a bit hectic. Enough arrests had been made the previous night that there were almost too many perps to go around, especially considering they were down two detectives for the first half of the interrogations. Naturally, all the big fish had lawyered up, a couple flipped on each other, one tried to flip on McGrath, and most of them pinning the blame onto Kayra and you.

The squads had spent most of the night talking with all of the other what could be called witnesses as the party, ones who weren’t caught doing anything, didn’t have any warrants, and couldn’t be linked to much. They basically all had the same stories, they would get e-vites to the parties, usually from you and spend the night drinking and flirting with pretty girls. Once the statements were in and signed, they were free to go and you all continued to weave through the mess to make sure you had the right charges on the right people.

You made a beeline for coffee when you first got there, handing one off to Jose before you headed toward the interrogation room Baker had set up Kayra in.

“Long night?” You greeted with a smirk and he sat upright, shooting you a scowl.

“You purposely leave me for last?”

“I was otherwise occupied.” You replied, settling into the chair across from him, Joe opting to stay back, leaning against the wall, “besides, you could’ve talked to anyone else here.”

“You betrayed me.” He growled and you let out a laugh.

“I can’t betray you if I wasn’t actually working for you in the first place.”

“I made you the fucking diamond!”

“Oh my god!” You rolled your eyes, “enough with that! You saw someone who wasn’t constantly drugged up and wasn’t scared to be around seedy or powerful men and decided to make me do ninety percent of your job for you. Which… really didn’t work out for you in the end, did it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well for starters you never did your own books, so I’ve got documented proof of every purchase you ever made, and that includes girls.”

“That’s what this is about? The girls?” He scoffed, “how ‘bout we make a deal? I’ve got intel on a murder; I give it to you and whatever charges you’ve got on me get dropped.”

“Interesting.” Your elbows came up to the table, your chin propped up in your hands, “just one? Cause I count four in relation to that house.”

“I know who killed sapphire. I can tell you where the weapon is and I can get you video surveillance that shows ‘em leaving the crime scene.”

“Aww. Cute.” You pouted, glancing over your shoulder to Joe, “he thinks he’s got big boy tips for us.” You turned back to Kayra with a brow raised, “see, this is the other thing. When you’re constantly high on a nice drug cocktail, you tend to forget things that people tell you. I told you McGrath was arrested; you can’t throw him under the bus when we’ve already got him in a cell. And he’s already taken a plea and tried to flip on you so you should really reconsider who your friends are.”

“I covered his ass and he tries to spin it all on me?!” He growled and you chuckled.

“Well, now we’re headed in the right direction. You admit covering up for him?” You raised a brow, “that’s a little thing called unlawful disposal of a body.” You flipped open the folder you’d brought in with you, sliding a picture from the construction site they’d found sapphire, “which you just admitted to. Although, I’m much more interested on what you have to say about the other three murders you committed.” You slid three more pictures across the table, one from the morgue, “we pulled up Quinn,” one from a crime scene, “my Sergeant found that john you pummeled,” and lastly a still from the penthouse surveillance, “and uh… did you forget that you, yourself, put cameras up in the penthouse when this one happened? Not that it matters considering you had something like six eye witnesses.”

Kayra’s eyes darted through the pictures, lingering on the last one before they flicked up to Jose briefly before returning to you.

“If we’re talking charges you should be the one arrested for prostitution.”

“Nice try, but Manhattan doesn’t prosecute for that anymore, and that would mean I would have actually had to exchange sex for money.”

“You tellin’ me in the two years you worked for me you never once let David have a taste?”

“No.” Your lips pursed, arms crossing on the table, “and we’re not here to talk about me. We’re here to talk about you facing three murder charges.”

“Then I’m invoking my right to an attorney.”

“Fine.” You pushed back from the table, gathering up the photos and folder as you did so, “see you at arraignment.”

On the other side of the glass, Baker and Benson let out a collective sigh as you and Jose re-entered the hallway.

“Well, you tried.” Liv offered and you let out a small laugh, turning back to the glass.

“He was never gonna talk.” You replied, “he just wanted a chance to try and screw with me, try to see if he could get me to slip up about something that never happened.”

“Does he have a lawyer?” Joe asked and you nodded.

“Yeah. But I wouldn’t be too worried about that,” you tossed him a grin, “he was one of the big fish we pulled in last night who’s already at Rikers.”

“Kennedy you little shit disturber!” Phoebe huffed, shaking her head and you laughed.

“What?! The guy’s only his attorney cause Kayra would let him into parties for free and charge him half rates for the girls! This way, that pig goes down and this one ends up with a public defender.” You gestured toward the window.

“You’ve gotta hand it to her, that’s smart.” Liv commented with a grin.

“Thank you!”

“Pain in my ass.” Phoebe muttered before pinching at your elbow, “c’mon, girls are here and want to see you.”

You and Joe spent the next hour or so talking with the girls, understanding when they were annoyed or upset, or not wanting to trust you, it was part of the process every time one of these busts happened. You talked them through what being a witness on a case could be like, assured them that they were not in any kind of trouble, and that not every one would go to trial. You took statements from a few more of them that hadn’t wanted to open up to the other cops but were trusting of you at the least. You also assured them that they would be allowed back into the penthouse to collect all of their belongings the following week, and that NYPD could help out with finding them housing if they didn’t have it otherwise. As usual you handed out cards for therapists, offering up your personal help to find other lines of work, and gave your own business card if they needed references for jobs, housing, anything. You were happy to see that by the end of it you were pretty sure you’d gotten through to all of them. You were sure you had the two years you’d spent with them basically being their mentor to thank for that. While most of them already had other jobs, all of them had been there by choice, and you knew there was a chance they might end up in other rings again, but at the very least, nothing would be able to compare to The Elite. You could only hope that would compel them into very different lives.

You said your good byes to the girls, dropping your now empty coffee cup in the trash as you pulled out your phone, catching up on a couple of emails and texts. You started to cross through the bull pen to see what Baker and Benson wanted from you next when a voice suddenly spoke in front of you.

“Y/n?” You barely had time to glance up before you were pulled into a tight hug, a woman’s voice speaking, “oh I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Uh.. thank you?” You pulled back out of the hug to study the woman, she was older than you, probably in her fifties. She was dressed in what you would call a nice outfit, but one that had been worn for years, every other week at church, probably anything over a casual encounter. While there was a tired small smile on her cheeks at the sight of you, the bags under her eyes were substantial and they were rimmed with red.

“Oh I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed suddenly, “you don’t know who I am. Carly used to send cute little polaroid’s of the two of you.”

“Oh! Mrs. Ingram! Under any different circumstances I would say it’s so lovely to meet you.”

“I think it’s still lovely.” She smiled, squeezing at your hand, “Carly always talked so highly of you, she thought of you as a sister. Probably so thankful considering she was the only girl among four boys.”

“She was a sister to me too.”

“You took good care of her. I’m glad to see you’re alright she was pretty worried about you, said you’d disappeared?”

“It’s…complicated.”

“You didn’t get caught up in all of this did you?” Her voice quietened as her hand gestured around the precinct, “I know what kind of work Carly was doing and I know she couldn’t have been arrested but I’d hate for the to think you were actually in charge or enforcing illegal things.”

“Oh, uh no. I’m… actually with NYPD Ma’m. I was working undercover with the ring to take it down from the inside.”

“Well I guess congratulations are in order then.” She cast you a warm smile and you let out a little sigh.

“I only wish we could have done more for Carly; I really did care about her, she didn’t deserve what happened.”

“As long as you got her killer in all of this too.”

“We did.” You assured her, “I interrogated him myself, and there’s no way he’s getting off.”

“Thank you.” Before you could speak again, Velasco wandered up beside you, hand softly on your back while he spoke.

“Hey, Baker wants you home and resting once you’re done.”

“Yeah.” You muttered, “oh! Do you have that box I asked you to keep?”

“Yeah, it’s in my locker.”

“Can you grab it?” He nodded, turning away and your hand trailed down his arm, “thanks Joe.” When you turned back to Mrs. Ingram she had a small grin on her face,

“I take it that’s the Jose my Carly said you were so enamoured with.”

“I—” You felt your cheeks heat and let out a little laugh, “yeah… that would be the one.”

He returned moments later, and brief introductions were made between the two while Mrs. Ingram praised Joe for keeping her daughter safe and doing everything he could otherwise. Her eyes then fell on the box he’d brought you with a curious expression and you held it out to her so she could take it.

“I went through her room at the penthouse, this is everything I thought might be sentimental, or valuable, along with all her cash. I know she was sending most of her money back home. And if you run into any legal issues with any accounts or anything of hers you give me a call, I know a great lawyer who will help out pro-bono.” You handed her a business card that she took, tucking into the box.

“Thank you dear.”

“Of course. It’s the least I could do.”

“May I?” She gestured with her arms and you nodded, stepping toward her and returning the hug tightly this time. “I should get going.” She sighed, wiping at her eyes, “you two keep each other safe now.”

“Bye.” You both cast her warm smiles and she made her way out of the precinct.

“You ready to go?” Jose asked softly, kissing the side of your head.

“Yeah. Honestly I’m exhausted already.”

“At least you had a bed to sleep in.” He teased back and you rolled your eyes.

“It was still uncomfortable as all hell. And I’m starving,” you pouted up at him as he wrapped an arm around your waist, “can we order pizza?”

“Does it have to have pineapple on it?”

“Hey.” You frowned, feigning annoyance, “I got shot last night. I deserve pineapple.”

“Oh? Really?” He laughed, “last I heard it barely nicked you.”

“Yeah well, either way I didn’t get any fucking pain killers.”

“Okay, okay.” His arm secured around you he scooped up his keys from his desk, “I’ll settle for pineapple on half.”

“Fine.” You let out an exaggerated sigh, smiling up at him, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He paused to press a gentle kiss to your lips, hand stroking at your cheek before he guided you out of the room. A nap and some food would do wonders for the both of you and he knew it.

________________________

@witches-unruly-heart @fandom-princess-forevermore @cycat4077 @xoxabs88xox @alwaysachorusgirl @teamsladsandgents @thatesqcrush @im-just-a-mississippi-girll @wandas-wife @katieslotherford @almatra @momlifebehard @dondivajade @misscharlielulu

#joe velasco #joe velasco x reader #under over #law and order svu #law and order #law and order special victims unit #svu

[fluentmoviequoter]

My Fighter

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: When a serial killer you arrested breaks out of prison, you and your team are tasked with finding him. You lie to the team and meet with the killer, but Street rushes to help you and reminds you why he can't lose you.

Warnings: canon-typical violence and action (OC serial killer, depiction of murder scenes, mentions of blood and murder, threats), angst, fluff and comfort at the end. there are a few references from various episodes but no spoilers!

Word Count: 3.9k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

“Street, hands to yourself, please. This is a workplace and I’m trying to make sure this raid goes well,” Hicks says.

Street ignores Hicks’ request, as well as Hicks’ obvious exasperation as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Street,” you whisper, shrugging one shoulder up.

“Fine,” he grumbles, removing his hands from your sides.

“Thank you,” Hicks sighs. “Now, you’ve got blueprints and Hondo’s breach plan is good. Deac, let’s not have another Schupatz situation, okay? Everyone stay where you’re supposed to be.”

“I’m still shocked you remembered him,” Luca comments.

“Everyone remembers big arrests,” Hondo argues. “And Deac’s just a good friend.”

“It’s true,” Deacon agrees. “First arrests are typically memorable.”

“Someone say something about memorable first arrests?” Rocker interjects from the doorway. “Mine was a drug maker. Not a seller or user, manufacturer.”

“Don’t get too cocky,” Hondo calls. “Our girl over here took down a serial killer for hers.”

“I got lucky,” you say softly.

“How so?” Rocker inquires.

“He killed one of my friends. Tried to cover his tracks, but I knew her well enough to spot every little inconsistency.”

Rocker nods before his team calls for him. As he walks away, Hicks goes over the details of your current case once more. Street’s hand returns to your back as a silent comfort after talking about one of the toughest cases you’ve ever worked on. Hicks doesn’t mention it this time but gives you an encouraging nod as you walk out of the situation room.

Hondo’s phone rings as you climb back into Black Betty after a successful raid. He furrows his brows and mumbles, “Someone’s more overbearing than usual,” before he answers the call on speaker.

“Commander,” Hondo greets.

“Back to the station. Now,” Hicks demands.

“Yes, sir. But the raid was good, so we’ve got another-“

“There was a breakout at the state prison,” Hicks interrupts. “We need 20-David on this.”

“We’re on it,” Tan agrees.

“Are you all here?” Hicks asks.

“Yes, sir,” your squad says together.

Hicks sighs, and you can picture him rubbing his jaw before he says, “Noah Oliguria broke out.”

Your eyes widen at the mention of his name, and you turn toward Hondo to make sure you heard Hicks correctly. Street moves to your side, and you know that you did. Your first arrest, the man who killed your friend, a serial killer who was supposed to be off the streets until he took his last unworthy breath, is now running free in Los Angeles.

“Where’d he go?” you ask quietly.

“He stole a van,” Hicks says, “we’ve been tracking it on traffic cams, but we need S.W.A.T. ready to roll the moment we have an opening.”

“He’s going to kill again.”

“We don’t know that.”

“I do. When I put the cuffs on him, he promised that someday he would kill again. He’s not out for tacos, Commander, he broke free to get back to what he knows.”

“It’s okay,” Street says softly.

He lays an arm over your shoulders, and you lean against him as Hicks tells Hondo more about what they know. You don’t care about how Noah broke out; you want to ensure he gets put back in. With Street beside you, your anger begins melting into fear. The last time Noah was on the streets of Los Angeles, a lot of people died, including someone you cared about deeply. That won’t happen again – it can’t, not while you can stop him.

“We’ll get him,” Hondo promises as he ends the call. “And you’re not alone this time.”

Your leg bounces with bottled anxiety as you sit outside the situation room. Dressed in your gear, you are ready to go. The rest of your team is inside with Hicks, but they decided it would be best if you didn’t have to relive the initial case against Noah. You remember it too well, anyway.

“Hey,” Street says as he lowers to sit beside you.

His hand lands on your knee, and you slow your breathing and movement at his touch.

“Hondo thinks we may have a lead. If you want to sit this one out, though, no one will blame you,” Street explains.

“I can’t sit here and do nothing, Jim.”

“I get it,” Street promises, nodding.

“You’re not helping,” you mumble as you look at him.

Street’s hand moves from your knee to the side of your thigh as you move. He furrows his brows at your comment, and you offer a small smile.

“You’re being really serious.”

“Oh, right,” Street agrees playfully. “Would you prefer a joke or just a generic sarcastic comment?”

You tap your chin as you think, but as your worry disappears (one of Street’s superpowers, you think), Hicks yells for 20 Squad to get ready to roll. Street’s hand slips into yours as you rush to Black Betty, and you can only hope to beat Noah Oliguria this time.

“Don’t,” Hondo demands as you step to his side. He extends an arm across your chest and shakes his head. “You don’t want to go in there.”

You turn away from him and press your fists harshly into your sides. Too late again. Last time you found one of Noah’s victims, it was your friend, and she had endured a bitter end until she couldn’t anymore. Despite your determination to stop him again, Hondo is right; you’ve seen enough of Noah’s work to know you don’t want to see anymore.

“He’s not going to stop, Deacon,” you say as he exits the building. “We don’t have time to go back to H.Q. and wait for a lead.”

“We don’t have to,” Street calls. “He left us one.”

You and Deacon rush toward Street, who lifts a blood-covered motel keycard. Noah’s, you assume. It’s not much, but it’s something. As you sit beside Street while Luca drives to the motel, you can feel your heart and stomach flipping with anxiety and memories you’d rather forget.

Street takes your hand and squeezes three times. Part of you wants to climb into his arms and never come out, but the other argues that you have a duty to the men and women that Noah has already killed and those he plans to. No one on your team would force you to sit this case out, but if Noah gets close to anyone you love, you won’t have a choice.

“Hondo,” you say. “Can I make entry?”

He nods slowly before agreeing. Noah has tried to taunt you from behind bars before, but if you see him face-to-face, you’ll let him know he will never get under your skin. You’re not scared of Noah Oliguria, but the idea of losing someone else to him terrifies you.

After you exit Black Betty, you run silently toward the room listed on the key. There’s an overturned housekeeping cart beside the door, and you nudge it out of the way. A blood-soaked towel falls from the laundry bin, and you don’t hesitate to kick the door open.

Street enters behind you, but your sudden stop causes him to grab your hips as he tries to stay upright. The scene on the bed holds your attention, though. Noah never seemed to have a type about who he killed. He simply liked the act, the blood between his fingers, a pulse fading under his touch as the life faded from his victim’s eyes. That’s why this scene is so wrong.

“It was too fast,” you murmur.

“Motives change,” Hondo points out. “He’s been locked up, maybe he- maybe he’s making up for lost time.”

“No, the first one was right.” You look around quickly before you decide, “He heard us coming. We just missed him.”

“That tracks,” Luca agrees. “M.E. said the first body had only been there about ten minutes. We’re not far behind him.”

“Far enough,” you snap. “We cannot let him kill again.”

Hondo looks at Street, who nods before grabbing your shoulders. He steers you out of the room with a loving but firm grip, and you let him lift you into Black Betty as you remember what Noah did on the other side of the motel wall.

“He’s going to keep killing,” you whisper.

You hold Street’s wrists as he kneels before you. He nods but doesn’t look away from you as the coroner and a detective arrive.

“You know it takes time. What he did to your friend, to you, was awful. Getting over that is impossible, but we can’t rush this,” he says.

“I know that. But… it feels like it’s my fault. I caught him once; why can’t I do it again?”

“It took you months.”

You shake your head and prepare to argue, but Street leans closer as his hands move to either side of your neck, his thumbs brushing over your jaw.

“Honey,” he murmurs. “It took you time, then, too. Be patient with yourself, okay? Those women, their blood isn’t on your hands, and you’re going to go crazy pushing yourself like this.”

“We’ll catch him eventually, right?”

“We always do.”

Street moves up to kiss your forehead before he sits beside you. The team joins you in Black Betty a moment later with another clue to chase. It feels like a breadcrumb trail, but you will always be too far behind, too slow to catch the man leaving the trail. Street keeps his hand in yours as Luca exits the motel parking lot and you gladly accept the comfort.

Your phone rings as Hondo explains the clue they found: a receipt for dry-cleaning to be picked up down the road in just under an hour. It’s an unknown number, but Hondo permits you to answer it anyway. With your helmet still on, you answer it and immediately switch it to speaker. You don’t speak before someone says your name.

“Heard you’re with S.W.A.T. now. Guess that puts a new meaning on the term ‘chasing’ me, huh?”

You recognize his voice immediately and try to end the call. Street grabs your hand gently and shakes his head, and Hondo motions for you to keep him talking.

“Noah,” you force out. “What do you want?”

“Ten years ago, you arrested me because I made some mistakes. That’s what you said at the trial. I didn’t make mistakes. Your friend was a fighter, and she wrecked her apartment. Someone leaving clues isn’t a mistake. Speaking of your friend… how’s her family?”

“What do you want?” you repeat slowly.

“To catch up. 12th and Maple, tonight at 8. Just you and me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill someone else. Actually, I have a better idea… for every half hour that you don’t show, I will kill another woman in L.A. How’s that for reason to come?”

“Pretty good,” you agree. “12th and Maple?”

“Right. See you tonight. Maybe wear one of those outfits that your friend liked so much.”

The line beeps as he ends the call, and you drop your phone into your lap. 

“You’re not going,” Jim says.

“Yes, I am,” you argue.

“No, you’re not. We’re not letting you go off alone to meet an escaped serial killer!” Hondo adds.

“And I’m not letting him kill more women!”

“He’s going to kill anyway,” Jim says. “And he may try to kill you. Please, just trust us and don’t go meet him alone.”

“We’ll ask Hicks about setting something up,” Deacon offers. “Maybe no one else has to die.”

“Okay,” you agree. “But… I think I need some time. Can I take a little while this afternoon?”

“Of course,” Hondo answers. “As much time as you need.”

“I’ll take you home,” Street offers.

“Thank you, but I- I need to be alone right now.”

Street nods, and you lean back for the remainder of the ride to H.Q. You’re lying, but think Jim believes you. Deacon’s right, no one else is going to die at the hands of Noah Oliguria, and you’re going to make sure of that.

“East Ducasse Alley off 12th and Crocker,” you say to yourself as you drive through the garment district for your 8 o’clock meeting. 

You changed the meeting place to ensure your team couldn’t arrest Noah before you got answers. They think you’re at home right now, and the meet has been called off, but as you exit your car and walk into the alley, you wish you’d told them the truth.

“Jim Street,” Street says as he answers the phone. His attention is on the screen before him until the person on the other end of the line speaks.

“So, I’ve heard. You’ve got good taste in women, picked a fighter… I guess we’ll see if she’s strong enough to fight someone like me, huh?” Noah Oliguria taunts.

The call ends immediately after Noah finishes. Street pulls his phone away from his ear and stares at the screen. He hasn’t heard from you since you let him know you got home, and either Noah thinks the meet is still happening, or you lied.

He opens his tracker app that lets him see where your phone is. Because of your job and its risks, you agreed to let your entire team see your location, though you can turn it off whenever you want. Lucky for Jim, you never remember the ghost mode capability. He sees the small dot with your initials on it at the end of an alley in the fashion district and abandons what he was working on.

“Hondo!” he yells as he exits the situation room. “She went to meet Noah! They changed the location.”

“How do you know?” Hondo inquires.

“He called me. Said we’d found out how much of a fighter she really is.”

“20 Squad!” Hondo calls. “We’re rolling!”

Tan raises his arms in question, but when Luca sees the concern on Street’s face, he yells for everyone to get to Black Betty. Time is limited, but you are family, so they’ll risk everything to get to you.

Noah slides his phone into his pocket as you near him. You stop with several yards between you and cross your arms over your chest in the dirty alley.

“I’m here,” you say. “What now?”

“You remind me a lot of her,” Noah replies. “When she opened the door of her apartment, I knew she’d be special. Even after she got me caught, she stayed special. You know why?”

“I’m not here for a trip down memory lane,” you snap.

“She was special because she led me to you. I watched you move around her place so easily, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if you’d walked in instead of her.”

“If you just brought me here to tell me that you want to kill me, I’m calling my backup to take you back to the cell you came from.”

“What backup? Your boyfriend Street was still at the station when I called. We’re alone, and we’ve got plenty of time for that trip down memory lane. I had to finish early because of your team once today, and I won’t let it happen again.”

Noah rushes toward you, and you bend your knees slightly to catch his shoulders before impact. He flips onto the ground and pulls you with him. As you fight for the upper hand, you see a knife, a gun, and something else under his shirt. He came prepared to kill you and to make it hurt. 

“You made another mistake,” you taunt as you kick him off of you. “I was never going to come alone.”

“Luca, a little faster!” Street yells.

“I’m going, Streeter,” Luca replies calmly. “We’ll get there.”

“We haven’t been ahead of him since the moment he walked out of that prison.”

“Street, you have to keep it together for her,” Deacon says. “If you go in there like this, you won’t be able to help anyone.”

“She thinks their blood is on their hands,” Street responds. “But if anything happens to her, it’s all on me. I let her go.”

“We all did,” Hondo adds. “But we’re in a position to help her before anything can happen. So, let’s keep it tight, stay liquid, and fight for our own.”

“30 seconds!” Luca alerts the team as he nears your location.

“Okay,” Street agrees. “Let’s do this.”

Noah’s knife falls from his waistband as he pulls you across the asphalt. You try to hide your yell of pain and use his own momentum to knock him over your head. Turning quickly onto your stomach, you begin to push yourself up before Noah moves the barrel of his gun into your face. You stop immediately, frozen on your hands and knees.

“I was right,” he says past a bloodied lip. “You’re putting up a better fight than her.”

“Then let’s keep going,” you reply.

“I don’t think so. Not here.”

Noah takes one hand from the gun and pulls a pair of handcuffs and a rope from his pocket. That’s what you couldn’t place earlier: the handcuffs. They look like they already have blood on them, and you wonder if it’s his or someone else’s. While he’s distracted and moving, you raise your hands and push his arms away from you. The gun falls to the ground, and you shove Noah backward and against the wall behind him.

He grunts before laughing, and you clench your jaw when you realize he closed one end of the handcuffs around your left wrist.

“I’m a fighter too,” he says lowly.

“You’re a coward with a gun,” you accuse.

“Don’t.”

“Or what?”

He kicks your shin, and your legs slide out from under you as you fall to the ground. With his knife retrieved from the ground, Noah steps back to look at you. Your gun is digging into your back, and you take the opportunity to tug against the handcuff. He’s standing on the other end, and as one hand moves beside Noah, you pull your gun from its holster. 

Noah steps back to your side and poises the knife above your chest. He raises it, prepared to plunge the blade between your ribs and debilitate you before he treats your death like a toy for his enjoyment until you break, and he has to replace you with another victim.

“Remember when I said you’d never kill me?” you ask. “I meant it.”

Noah’s face hardens as he tightens his grip on the knife. He raises it a touch higher, and just as he prepares to swing down, his eyes widen as a shot echoes in the empty alley. Noah drops the knife, and you ignore it as it lands on your stomach. His hand falls to the wound in his abdomen before he falls back. You tip your head back against the road and take a deep breath. Someone yells your name, and you sit up quickly with your gun still grasped tightly between your hands. The knife clatters as it falls from your movement, and you lower your weapon when you see Street running toward you. Hondo has his hand to his ear, likely calling for backup and an ambulance for Noah, who is still conscious and groaning in pain.

Street takes your gun and knocks the knife away from your side. He raises his gloved hands to your face and tilts your head gently as he searches your skin for any sign of injury. You hook your fingers over his wrists as you lean toward him.

“Jim,” you breathe out. “You came.”

He nods and you appreciate the silent promise that he will always come. Before you can think to ask, he retrieves a key from his pocket and removes the bloody handcuff from your wrist. He flips your hand to ensure the blood isn’t yours before giving you room to stand.

You lower your hands to the concrete and push yourself up while Street hovers beside you as you stagger with each movement. An ambulance approaches the end of the alley, but you don’t look toward Noah. He screams as Deacon applies pressure to his wound, and you turn toward Street.

“Get her out of here,” Hondo calls. “Hicks said she’s good to give her statement in the morning.” He looks at you to ask, “You good?”

“Can’t complain,” you answer. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Just give us a heads-up next time, would you?”

“No, we won’t have a next time,” Street adds.

You nod as Street leads you to your car. He takes the keys from your pocket and helps you into the passenger seat before climbing behind the wheel. You each have a lot to say, but he stays quiet as he navigates through LA and drives toward your home. 

Once you’re inside, changed, and comfortable in Jim’s arms, you have the space to talk and fall apart. He has a firm arm around your waist as the other holds your head against his shoulder. Your arms are wrapped over his shoulders as you breathe against him. You’re in pain, but nothing could make you separate yourself from Jim in this moment.

“I’m sorry I went without telling you. I’m sorry for going at all after you asked me not to,” you apologize against Jim's shirt.

Jim’s hand moves from your head to your back as he rubs comforting strokes against your spine. His hand slips under your shirt at the bottom, and you lean further against him with the unhindered contact.

“I’m not mad at you,” he promises. “Noah called me.”

“He told me he called you and you were at the station, so you weren’t coming. What’d he say to you?” you ask as you pull back to see Jim’s face.

“Basically, that he was going to hurt you. He said he was going to make you fight and see how good you really are. I… I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, listen. I don’t want to lose you, and that’s why I asked you not to go. Not because I don’t trust you or I’m scared of Noah, anything like that. But he was after you and I can’t bear the thought of losing you. I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too,” you reply softly.

“Then could you maybe try to act like it every once in a while?”

Street smiles, and your lips quirk up to match. You lean forward and kiss him, smiling against his lips as his hand travels across your back to bring you closer.

“I’ll remember that from now on,” you promise as you pull back. “And try not to do anything that could take me from you. I love you. I love you so much, Jim.”

“You know that none of this was your fault, right?” Street asks as he moves his hand from your hip to your cheek.

“Thanks to you, I do. You got me through today.”

“Kind of what I’m here for.”

“I see you chose sarcastic comments without me.”

“Well, you never answered the question.”

You shake your head lovingly and return to your previous position against Street’s shoulder. You love him, and you know he loves you; the comfort, reminders of what you mean to him, and how he treats you leave no room for doubt. Lying to him and risking your life, putting him in a place where he could lose you, wasn’t worth it.

“Can you say it again?” you ask, trailing a hand up Street’s chest and to his jaw.

“Say what?”

“You called me honey earlier.”

Street turns his face against your hand and leans into your touch as he says, “I love you, honey, and I’m going to tell you with every breath I have left.”

You smile shyly at the new pet name but take the opportunity to tease, “Hicks will love that.”

“Doesn’t matter, because I love you.”

Street pulls you into another kiss, and though you know life will never be easy, loving Jim Street is.

#hanna writes✯ #jim street x fem!reader #jim street x reader #jim street fic #jim street imagine #swat x reader #swat cbs #fem!reader #requests

[winttrader]

D.e.a spike tv

#D.E.A SPIKE TV FULL#

#D.E.A SPIKE TV TV#

in association with Size 12 Productions, season two of “DEA” premieres on Spike starting Tuesday, February 10 at 10 PM.

#D.E.A SPIKE TV TV#

Nine, One-Hour Episodes Will Start Airing in February on Spike TVįEB 09 - (NEW YORK) - Spike TV returns to the streets of the billion dollar illegal narcotics trade, this time in New Jersey, to offer viewers a glimpse into the inner workings of the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA). "DEA" Hits the Streets of New Jersey for Second Season It's a definite rental for fans of the genre and not that bad of a purchase at a price point of around $18.News from DEA, Domestic Field Divisions, Newark News Releases, 02/09/09ĭEA Special Agent Douglas S. However, if you are into this type of reality show, you'll enjoy DEA: Detroit. The DVD is not rated and there is plenty of drug discussion, as well as some violence and language, so its not for the kiddies. At any rate, it was fun to watch as well and was just a different slant.Īlthough you only get about 6 hours of show, what's there is a fun watch and really interesting. Things just happen a little differently with this group. These guys pray before they go out on a run and most of them look like bikers that you wouldn't want to mess with. Although only a 30 minute show, it covers a Memphis, Tennessee vice squad, which is a completely different experience.

#D.E.A SPIKE TV FULL#

Also, the show is narrated by Lance Henriksen ( Millenium, X Files) and he always makes things sound so intense.Īlso included on the DVD is a full episode of Real Vice Cops: Uncut, which I presume is another Spike TV show. I'd imagine they got into some fairly hinky situations as the team stormed houses and such, but the camera man was able to record some good footage, even with all of the commotion going on. There's always some pounding music going on in the background to keep the tension up and the camera work was good. While I'm sure things don't move as quickly as they seem to on the DVD, which is due to some fancy editing no doubt, the rapid pace of things keeps the show exciting and interesting. It injected a nice bit of realism into things. Although they almost always "got their man," I liked that it didn't always work out perfectly for them. The series, which is only 6 hour-long episodes, chronicles the team taking down drug stash and money houses, chasing down heroine kingpins, and "flipping" dealers and working their way up the chain of command to take down the highest level members of the drug organizations. They struck hard and fast and took care of business, but still offered a measure of respect to the folks they collared. One dude looked just like LL Cool J, I swear! What impressed me the most was the fact that these guys were seriously hardcore about what they do. Overall, they are a fairly good looking collection of men, which made it more pleasant for me to watch, but that won't matter much to the target demographic for this DVD. The team consists of a pretty interesting group of guys with nicknames like Shaggy, Country and Woody. However, I never expected to enjoy it as much as I did, nor for it to have as high a production value as it did.ĭEA: Detroit follows Group 14 as they clean up the drug problem on the mean streets of Detroit, Michigan. So when Spike TV's DEA: Detroit came in, I figured I would end up with it and that was fine. I guess it gives me some sort of vicarious thrill to watch members of law enforcement put the smack down on evildoers. I have always been a fan of shows like Cops and stuff like that.

#D.e.a spike tv

[marvelmusing]

Regrets

Part of the Guilty of Love AU

Pairing: Vigilante!Billy Russo x Fem!Reader

Summary: Billy meets with Frank, and learns several things, which prompts a confession from you both.

Word Count: 1.1K

A/N: here’s a little angsty fluffy scene to make up for the lack of Billy in the last part

My Masterlist

All through your day at work, your mind drifts to Billy. This is a regular occurrence, though it’s usually wondering what the two of you will be having for dinner, what he’s up to whilst you’re working, or what he would think of certain things that happen during your day.

Today, however, your thoughts have a different theme. Billy plans to meet up with Frank around noon, and you’re worried. Not about Frank hurting him. But you wonder how Billy will take seeing his best friend after thinking he was dead. Ever since Frank responded to Billy’s radio call, Billy’s been fidgety.

You’re not sure if Billy will be home when you unlock the front door after your day at work. You tug off your coat and shoes, before putting them away. The light is on on the living room so you can only assume that Billy’s home.

You walk down the hallway, stopping at the doorway when you see Billy sitting at the dining table, staring down at his hands. He looks up at you, giving you a faint smile that soon drops.

“Billy? What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t respond, simply staring at you as if he can’t fathom the words to explain what’s going on in his head. He looks down at his hands, and your eyes follow his gaze. You notice his knuckles are spilt, and you fetch the first aid kit without a word.

You sit down beside him, cleaning the split skin for a moment before you ask softly,

“What happened?”

“I punched Frank.”

“You punched him?” The remnants of a smile flicker at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah. After I hugged him.”

“Why?” He looks at your face, rolling his shoulder slightly.

“I guess I was angry at him. We always told each other everythin. And findin out he was alive… I felt like he didn’t trust me anymore.”

“Did you tell him this?” He nods, looking sheepish all of a sudden. You tilt your head aside. “Did he give you an explanation?” He nods again, the hint of a smile returning to his face.

“You.” He says softly, making you frown. Your heart warms at his next words. “Apparently I talked about you all the time.” You trace your thumb gently over his hand, avoiding the bruise that’s blossoming under his skin. “With Schoonover dead, the last of the people involved with what happened to Maria and the kids were gone. Frank wanted me to have a normal life, with you. That’s why he didn’t come lookin for me.”

You’re quiet for a moment, as you appreciate what Frank was trying to do for you - someone he had never really met.

“That’s good isn’t it? He just wanted to protect you.”

“Yeah sweetheart. Me and Frank are still good.”

“Then why do you look so sad?” He reaches out, trailing his fingers over your cheek.

“Nothin gets past you, does it?”

“Not with you.” He nods with a brief smile, before looking away. The muscle in his jaw twitches as he thinks over his words. Then he says,

“You remember the people I’ve been workin for? The ones who would clear my name?” You nod. “They led a top secret squad over in Afghanistan. Me and Frank were a part of it.”

You know that he served in Afghanistan along with Frank, but you thought it was in an ordinary regiment. Whatever they’d been doing wasn’t on the records.

“Turns out they were smuggling drugs out in KIAs. Using us as their personal kill squad.”

“Jesus, Billy.” You whisper, curling your fingers around his wrist, your face crumbling as you watch his expression become haunted.

“Thought I was going straight this time. Thought I was doin right by you, wanted to build a life for us. Now I’ve fucked that all up.”

“No, no Billy. You have not fucked this up.” You stand up, stepping between his thighs to pull his head against your chest. He leans heavily against you, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly. “This is not your fault, so don’t blame yourself. Because I don’t.” You rest your arms on his shoulders, smoothing one hand over his hair.

“I’ve done bad things, sweetheart. I’m not- I don’t deserve you.” Your heart shatters at the thought of Billy actually believing his words. You step back slightly, allowing you to see his face but still hold him in your arms.

“You deserve the world Billy.” You say softly. His eyes are wide, almost pained, as he stares at you. He opens his mouth, most likely to argue with you, but you continue. “You have a heart of gold, you’d do anything for the people you care about. You’re loyal, and so smart. You make me smile on the worst days. And you’ve always cared about me, even when you shouldn’t have. Even when it put you at risk.” His eyes are still wide, and now there’s tears glossing over their depths. You swallow hard before adding earnestly, “It’s why I love you so much.”

He stills as he registers your words, and you can hardly breathe. He looks down, staring at the floor for long moment. When he looks back up at you he smiles tenderly, breathing out a soft laugh.

“I wanted to say that first.” You laugh softly as well, before a small smirk traces your lips.

“Well I guess I beat you to it.” You tease fondly. Billy tightens his hold on you, pulling you back to him so that he can press his face against your chest. His voice is soft as he says,

“Thank you sweetheart.” Your hands return to his hair, smoothing the locks through your fingers.

“You don’t have to thank me. Not for this.” Billy’s fingers dig into your hips as he squeezes you tighter, as if he’s checking you’re real. He tilts his head back, so that he can see your face. You look down at him with a soft smile as you continue to play with his hair. Then he says,

“I love you too.”

»»---------------------►

Billy Russo Tag List: @blackbirddaredevil23 @restingbitchsblog @tiredbeebo @rafaelakelley @theysayitscrazy @hummelmi @nyx2021 @skybridgerton @dragon-of-winterfell @earthfairytale @profoundme444

#billy russo #vigilante billy russo #billy russo x y/n #billy russo x you #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo fic #billy russo fanfic #billy russo fluff #billy russo imagine #billy russo drabble #billy russo the punisher #the punisher netflix #netflix the punisher #the punisher #marvel au #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader

[jeontaeil-archived]

Catch Me If You Can //

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a part of @neosmutcollective's RISQUÉ event

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Pairing: Criminal!Ten x Cop!Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut. Male receiving, Tit-job, Marking, Choking, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Unprotected Sex. Non-Idol AU

Words: 5.6k+

Warnings: 18+ content. Read at your own discretion. Mentions of drugging.

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Sirens tore through the city, disrupting the serenity of the late hour. You loved how they sounded. So promising and exhilarating. Something big was about to go down.

The task force raced down the empty streets with you at their lead. You were in pursuit of a band of huge black SUVs, one of them holding the most dangerous criminal in your city.

You'd been in this situation many times before. You'd been chasing after Ten since the very first day. No matter how close you thought you were to catching him, he always managed to slip out of your grasp. He'd bring your hopes up, only to snatch them from you.

Ten loved playing with you. Whenever you were in a slump, he'd always leave a few obvious clues behind. It was like he was almost asking you to come and get him. But it was only ever because he was bored and wanted to have some fun.

You had done everything in your power to get to this very moment. All the pieces had been laid. All you had to do was throw Ten in jail and you'd get the biggest promotion of your life. If anything went wrong in tonight's plan you'd be stuck, a mere cop in a shitty precinct for the rest of your life.

You wouldn't deny it. The rush you felt while hunting Ten down excited you greatly. That feeling of having him in your grasp, not quite but so close, it made the adrenaline course through your veins. In a twisted sort of way, you wouldn't mind if Ten made this race a bit more thrilling. After all, it would be his last.

The cars split up at an intersection. You'd already predicted this beforehand. Your squad wordlessly broke into the formation you'd planned out while you zoomed straight ahead.

A hand emerged from the car before you, a cigar held in its grasp. The rings that adorned its fingers were enough to tell you that you had eyes on Ten.

Gritting your teeth, you stomped on the accelerator, catching up with him slowly. He was all yours. You had him now. Ten seemed to make no effort to evade you. He continued driving as leisurely as possible. You couldn't tell why but you didn't want to take any chances. There wasn't any backup near. All you had was a pistol to defend yourself.

You figured the safest thing to do was maintain some distance between your car and his. You saw him adjust his mirror. What you didn't expect was for him to give you a clear view of his face.

He was looking straight at you, a devilish grin plastered on his face. What on earth was he up to? You saw him reach over to the side and collect a gun. Pulling your own out of its holster, you held it up by the wheel.

Keeping his eyes on you, Ten placed his cigar between his lips and threw the gun out the open window. Your eyes widened in bewilderment. Why did he unarm himself? You watched his gun scatter to the side of the road. When your eyes locked with his again, he sent you a wink and sped away.

Acting fast, you raced behind him, staying right behind his car. He kept making sharp turns, dancing through lanes, but nothing that would throw you off. He wasn't trying to run away. He was taking you out for a spin. If you wanted to put a stop to this game, you needed to corner him.

So you decided to turn the tables. He clearly needed you to focus on him. Without batting a lash, you took a u-turn and started driving off in the opposite direction. You saw his car skid to a stop. He stuck his head out of the window, furrowing his brows at you.

Rolling down your own window, you put your hand out and motioned for him to follow you. An erratic laugh was heard, followed by Ten trailing after you.

He didn't seem skeptical at all. It was like he'd forgotten that you were a cop. He looked curious. He wanted to see what you were going to do. Maybe he knew that it was all over for him. Perhaps he wanted to have one last exciting night.

Seeing a familiar street, you made a turn, grinning as you spotted him enter the small road with you. Looking back at the road, you slammed the breaks immediately. It was a dead end.

Another menacing laugh was heard from behind you. You had no clue what was going on. Gun in your hand, you got out of your car and hid behind the open door.

"There's no point in hiding princess. I've got you trapped."

You'd never heard Ten's voice before. It dripped of class and authority. No wonder so many people were afraid of him.

This was no time to be afraid however. You were so close to getting him. You just had to play your cards right. That was the only way you could get out of this situation safely.

"I bet you weren't expecting this little surprise." His voice was getting closer. You cocked your gun. "You'll be amazed how easy it is to change signs. My men did a great job."

He was so arrogant about his 'achievement'. You wanted to spit in his face.

"Now put your gun down and come on out. I promise I won't hurt you. I don't even have a weapon. You can't fire on me if I'm unarmed. Isn't that police protocol?"

It was indeed. But you couldn't just risk it like that. He'd already deceived you once. Only a fool would let it happen twice.

"This is my warehouse y/n. All my business takes place here. When you and your pesky task force took down all my other outlets, I made sure this one remained secure," he shared.

You glanced at the tiny shed behind you. How could this hold it all? He was bluffing. You were sure of it.

Peeking over the hood of your car, you gasped on seeing how close he was to you. There was no point in hiding now. Pointing your gun at him, you carefully stepped into sight. Ten pushed his hands into his pocket, fiddling with the cigar in his mouth. He scoffed and looked to the side.

"Come on y/n. Let's not waste our time. If you cooperate, you'll see how it all began. How it all grew and poisoned this city you cherish so preciously."

He stepped towards you. You shot at his feet impulsively. "Keep your distance. Put your hands above your head and get on the ground."

He winced and stayed put. With your other hand, you reached for your pair of handcuffs. "I said get on the ground," you repeated, this time more sternly. His eyes locked with yours, corners of his lips curling up into a smile.

"Someone's feisty," he commented, stepping towards you once again after paying no heed to your warning. You fired at his feet once more. He didn't even flinch. He was so used to the sound of gunshots. They failed to phase him anymore.

"You know, I spent many nights imagining this day. The day we finally met," he revealed. "The exchange is alarmingly similar to what I'd thought it would be like."

You kept firing at his feet. You'd run out of bullets soon. "Stay away from me," you shouted, not letting your voice falter even a bit. He ignored your words. "I never expected you to be so beautiful. Seriously y/n, why'd you become a cop? You could've easily made it big in the modelling industry."

You felt disgusted all of a sudden. He was so shameless. How could he be hitting on you when you were holding him at gunpoint?

"Shut up. Just put your hands on your head and get on the ground," you said again, getting impatient.

"I don't wanna get on the ground though. These trousers are new, I can't afford to get any dust on them," Ten complained. Was he being serious?

"I don't care about your fucking pants! Just get on the ground-"

Ten lunged towards you and swatted your gun out of your hand in the blink of an eye. It clattered to the side, closer to him than to you. You watched in horror as he skilfully emptied the bullets and slipped them into his pocket. He tossed the gun to you with a sly grin.

"There's your gun. You can put it down now, there's no use keeping it aimed at me anyways."

You checked your pockets for any extra bullets, cursing when there were none. Ten folded his arms across his chest.

"What do you want from me," you asked, moving away from him.

Ten raised a brow. "Your attention, that's all." He stepped towards you carefully.

"Why do you need my attention? I'm trying to arrest you for god's sake."

He caged you between himself and the building's wall behind you, hand slipping behind your back to snatch your handcuffs. What you didn't expect was for him to put them on his own hands and bound himself.

"What are you doing," you questioned, pushing him away from you.

"I'll let you take the credit for this." He chuckled. "This y/n, is a gesture to make you feel safe. I mean you no harm. All I ask is that you give me a few hours of your time."

You looked between his hands, his face and the warehouse in front of you. He noticed the doubt on your face. "If you're gonna bring me down at least do it entirely. There's no point in throwing me in prison while this place remains in existence. Certainly not my men or I, but someone else might stumble across it. Doesn't take a genius to get a business up and running if they're desperate you know."

He had a point. You hated that he was right. Not only would this prevent someone from starting his business up again, but it would ensure a stricter sentence. Surely he'd never get life imprisonment, but the longer Ten stayed in jail, the better it would be for your city.

"Fine," you agreed with a sigh. "But no funny business."

Ten raised his hands in defence. "I promise. It's just you, me and my entire life's work."

You went back to your car to retrieve your keys and phone, plus some extra bullets which you loaded your gun with. "You can't deny me this. I'm walking into an abandoned warehouse with a guy who's on the state's most wanted list, no backup whatsoever."

Ten pursed his lips. "I never objected."

And with that, you followed behind him.

He held the rusty door open for you. The inside of the warehouse was completely dark. It clearly had no ventilation of any sort. The air was damp and eerily cold, with a faint musty smell.

"Are there any lights in here?"

Ten chuckled yet again. "Patience y/n. We're not there yet."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

You turned on your phone's flashlight and held it in front of you. The entire warehouse was empty. It wasn't that big of a space. The only thing on the ground was loose paper and cockroaches. Had he just set you up?

Cocking your gun, you pressed it to his back. "Do you think I'm playing games here?"

His body tensed up. "The operation is downstairs," he revealed.

"Then take me there," you urged in annoyance.

Ten led you to the centre of the floor and kicked at the dust until a small latch came into sight. He bent down and pulled it up. It was a trapdoor. A line of stairs continued downwards. You looked at Ten. "After you sir."

As you ascended down the stairs, you felt the air get lighter. It smelled more fresh than it did in the warehouse above. The only thing that remained constant was the darkness.

"Installing a bulb or two in here wouldn't do you any harm you know."

Ten laughed wholeheartedly. "You've got a nice sense of humour. I like that."

Rolling your eyes you continued descending. "How down below is this lair of yours?"

Ten didn't answer you. He walked to the edge of the stairs and jumped. It seemed you'd reached your destination. You shined the light on him, seeing him feel against the wall for something. He then pressed his palm flat against the fall. A few seconds later a bright light flooded your vision. Grimacing, you hid your face.

"Here are the bulbs or two you were asking about earlier."

Sure enough, the entire area had a neat lighting system. You turned your flashlight off and instead opened your camera, taking pictures for evidence. Ten waited patiently at the side.

The space was bigger than the warehouse above. You realised it was just a gimmick to throw anyone who came across it off. Just by the ambiance of the place, you could tell Ten had spent many years building it up to what it was. You wouldn't lie, it was magnificent. Like something straight out of a James Bond movie.

"I'm gonna explain it all to you. Basically let you into my life for a moment here. But you have to promise, that in turn, you won't call any back up. I want all of this to be absorbed by your mind," Ten spoke.

"Why?"

"You'll share it with your team after we're done anyways. But they'll never get to see it upfront. They'll never get to understand and admire it like you did. I only want you to do so," he explained.

His request was odd. But you couldn't argue. None of your files or reports had any record of this place. It had never come up during your investigation and none of your suspects had mentioned it to you. This place was a goldmine and you couldn't risk letting its information get in the wrong hands.

_

Five hours, you'd spend five hours at Ten's headquarters. Everything he'd told you so far was beyond resourceful. Not only had he helped you bust gangs that your precinct had failed to collect enough evidence against, but he also gave you an inside report of operations you had no clue about.

You couldn't believe he was just spilling all this information to you. You didn't understand why he was being so cooperative. Maybe he'd come to terms with that fact that it was all over him a very long time ago. You decided to ask.

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

Ten paused at your interruption. "As I said earlier. I want you to admire my work."

You scoffed. "So you want to be remembered as more than a criminal then?"

Ten rested his chin on his palm. "Not quite. See, the obvious reason for my downfall is the disloyalty of my peers. They started with me and leached out for a supposed better life. Everything any criminal has in this city is because of what they've either stolen or accepted from me. No one can stay hidden from the law without my help. No king gets to take over my empire after I'm gone. I forbid it," he explained.

He was so in over his head it was amusing. The way he thought it was the others that had ratted him out, you didn't want to burst his bubble but it was him who had brought his own downfall upon himself.

"How long do you think you'll be in jail for this Ten?"

He shrugged. "Until one of the hairs on my head turns grey I assume."

You pointed to the space around you. "Showing me this is only gonna make it worse."

Ten nodded. He already knew that. "But it will ensure that I can't start it up after I emerge from my sentence."

Rocking around in your chair, you studied his headquarters. "Please tell me you've got a coffee machine in this place."

Ten laughed. "Of course we do. Shall I make you a cup?"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "No thank you. Unfortunately I don't trust you enough."

Ten pouted dramatically. "That's a shame. Did you know I worked at a cafe to make enough money to buy drugs?"

You shook your head. "You could've made big money in the barista field. Found a pretty girl to move in with. Lead a life on the right side of the law."

He laughed again. For the situation he was in, he was pretty calm. You didn't know why that was. You were just glad he wasn't trying to make any moves on you.

"It's over there," he gestured towards a room in the far corner of the area. "Would you like me to accompany you? Or should I sit still?"

"Stay where you are. I'll be right back," you instructed.

Ten leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. You got up and went to the backroom, keeping your eye on him the entire time. You figured now would be a good time to contact your squad. Let them know of your location and make sure that they'd taken care of their own jobs of handling Ten's henchmen.

Ten remained as still as a statue. The room you entered was more of a lounge. Along with a coffee machine, it also had a couch that looked invitingly comfortable. A quick nap sounded extremely appealing at the moment. But you couldn't risk letting your guard down like that.

You quickly got to preparing your coffee. Just some hot water and coffee powder to do the job. You hoped the extra caffeine would allow you to remain attentive.

Swirling your cup to mix the concoction, you made your way back to Ten. He sat up on your arrival. "We have creamers," he shared.

You took a sip of the warm drink. "No need. The stronger, the better." He couldn't argue with that. Ten resumed his explanation. You continued jotting down all the essentials of his narration. His voice was so monotonous that you never realised when you blacked out.

_

You woke up on the couch, a blazer draped over your body. Shooting up immediately, you reached behind your back for your gun. Much to your horror, it wasn't there. You stood up and stumbled out of the room. Everything was pitch black outside. You couldn't wrap your mind around anything.

The lights turned on when you made your presence known. You fell down with a groan. They were brighter than you recalled. Your ears started ringing, a sharp sting in your head. A familiar chuckle sounded from behind you.

"Looks like someone's up early. Tell me y/n, how was your sleep?"

You turned around and got up. "What the fuck did you do?"

Ten held his hands up. The cuffs were gone.

"I didn't do anything sweetheart. You did this to yourself."

What was he saying? Why did you black out? That's when it occurred to you. The coffee.

"What the fuck did you drug me with you asshole?" Your head was pounding. Your body felt so weak.

"I didn't drug you with anything y/n. There was nothing in the coffee."

You didn't believe him. "Stop lying. How did I pass out then?"

"No drugs were involved in that y/n. You were just tired. I guess my droning lulled you to bed," he explained.

"Why'd you take my gun then? How did you get out of your handcuffs? The keys were in my pocket."

"I had to steal those from you. I had no other choice. How else was I supposed to carry you to the couch?"

You were so stupid. How could you let this happen. He had your gun, your handcuffs, their keys and your phone. He had you trapped and you didn't know what to do.

"My squad knows where I am. They're gonna come looking for me and you can't run away this time."

Ten rolled his eyes at your warning. "Yeah I saw that text you'd left them. I figured I should've let you know that there was no reception in the warehouse."

You cursed. "Was this your plan all along?"

Ten shook his head. "It was more of an impulsive decision."

"What are you going to do to me?"

Ten furrowed his brows. "Nothing bad. I'm just a drug dealer. I would never hurt you."

As if that was going to comfort you in this situation.

"I just wanna play a game. Would you do that with me?"

You scowled at him. "What's the catch?"

Ten smirked. "Oh there's no catch sweetheart. I just wanna have one last night of fun with the girl of my dream. You wouldn't deny me that would you?"

The girl of his dreams. He was sick.

Ten noticed how reluctant you were. At this rate you weren't gonna agree to anything he said.

"If you say yes, I'll return all your belongings to you and let you escort me out of here, handcuffed of course, all the way back to your precinct where you can put me behind bars for good," he offered.

"Why can't I just skip to that part right now," you asked bitterly.

Ten stepped towards you, bringing his face right in front of yours. You could feel his breath fanning on your lips. "You've spent all these years dedicating your time to me. It would be a shame if you didn't make the most of all that work. You think you know me but you don't. You've never had a proper conversation with me before. You never been so close to me. I'll be honest y/n, I've been waiting to see you. I always knew you'd be the death of me. I'd much rather make more memories with you. After all, you're the woman that brought me down. That makes you special, doesn't it?"

He was so manipulative. You actually found yourself considering his proposition. Something about his words was right.

"Just say the word, you know you want to," he pressed.

"Do you swear that you'll walk out of here without a struggle?"

Ten nodded.

You sighed. "Fine. What are we playing?"

Ten beamed and gave you your distance. "Rummy. I'm sure you're familiar with the proceedings?"

You knew how to play rummy. You also knew that Ten wasn't going to be traditional with it.

"My men and I used to add some booze to the mix. But I know you can't drink while on duty. So instead, we'll do something a bit nostalgic."

By the tone of his words you already knew where this was going. He wanted to include sexual favours. How gross.

"I've got a list. It goes up till 100. Loser accumulates their points and based on their score, they've gotta do something off of the list. Are you up for that?"

You stared at him, long and hard. You wanted to put an end to this as soon as possible. "Let's do it."

This was wrong. You knew it. But you were desperate. He seemed like a man of his word. Not completely, but for certain clauses at least.

Ten took your hand and let you to the table you were sitting at previously. Your belongings were still there. It was already lined with a deck of cards. He sat down across from you and gestured to the cards. "They've already been shuffled and dealt. I believe in fair games so I can assure you nothing's rigged here."

You lifted your cards and began sorting them wordlessly. They weren't the best but at least you had a joker.

"I'd also like to let you know that I gave you some Provestra. But don't worry, I took some for myself. The ones meant for men of course."

He was so fucking shameless. At least you had something add to the list of charges against him.

_

Ten lost the first round. Only by twelve points however. Number twelve on his list was strip.

He now sat before you, completely naked. Something about it wasn't as disturbing as you thought it would be. You told yourself it was just the horny pill talking, but you wouldn't deny that he had a nice body.

A tattoo on his forearms and one circling his chest. His upper body was nicely toned and he packed a nice size. Overall, he was hot. If he wasn't a criminal you certainly would've taken him home.

Your next game began, this time with you dealing. Your cards turned out to be extremely favourable and you won with ease. Ten's points upped by five, leaving him at seventeen. Number seventeen on his list was marking.

Though hasty, you moved your hair to the side and let him hover over your body. He smelled oddly nice. Ten held your gaze while licking his lips. "May I," he whispered. You tilted your neck. "Go for it."

His tongue ran over your skin making you close your eyes. His lips followed, sucking gently to make a mark. You gripped the side of the table and willed yourself not to succumb to the burning sensation between your legs. Ten repeated the action, this time closer to your jaw. His tongue felt enticing. You wanted more. But you couldn't let yourself have it. This was just a game.

He moved off of you once he was satisfied with his work. Two hickeys stained your neck, strikingly visible and difficult to cover.

He dealt the next round and you played the first move. This time he emerged victorious. With two points, number two on his list was a kiss. The way he licked his own lips in anticipation made you dizzy. You'd never used Provestra but you were certain it wasn't supposed to make you feel this way.

You scooted closer to him and grabbed the sides of his head, crashing his lips onto yours. Ten groaned in your mouth, loving the force you used. He let you guide him, moving his lips over yours reverently. You didn't know when to stop. You didn't want to stop. He was an amazing kisser and it had been quite a while since you'd felt someone's lips on yours, especially like this.

Ten was the one to pull away first. He smirked at you, loving the effect he was having on you. He passed you the cards to deal the next round.

You won yet again and rather quickly at that. Ten was left with a lump sum of twenty three points which amounted to a total of forty. Number forty on his list was a handjob.

You spit on your palm without a second thought and grabbed his dick. Ten leaned back in his seat and watched you stroke his cock. No sounds left him. Only quick breaths from his parted lips. Your handjob skills were a tad rusty, but you had the basics down.

You tightened your grip around his shaft making him hiss. He bucked his hips up into your hand and wetness pooled in your panties. You got off your chair and fell down on your knees. Ten watched you spit on his cock in complete awe. "Fuck the game," you muttered, wrapping your lips around his tip. Ten held your head, pushing your mouth down on his cock. You tried your best not to teeth him.

Squeezing his thigh, you began bobbing your head over his member, fondling his balls in your other hand. Ten groaned and cursed above you, loving every second of it.

Out of breath, you pulled away from him and started unbuttoning your blouse. Ten watched in delight as you took off your bra and let your breasts spring free. He hadn't expected you to get on board so easily.

You released a ball of spit onto your chest, letting it slip down the valley of your breasts. Knowing what you were going to do, Ten shifted closer to you and pushed his cock between your tits. You pushed them against his member and began moving them up and down. "Holy shit," Ten explained, moving with you. His fingers played with your nipples.

You stuck your tongue out for his tip to brush against. The sounds leaving Ten's mouth were heavenly. This was so wrong. But you were too worked up to stop.

"Who knew you'd turn out to be so damn kinky," Ten exclaimed. You didn't say anything. Ten's cock twitched only seconds after. You kept moving over him. Soon enough, long ropes of his cum spurted up onto your tits, some falling on your chin. You slowed your pace, milking him of every last drop until he was whining for you to stop.

Ten stood up and dragged you with him. He made you sit on the table and pulled your pants down your legs. Your panties were soaked. Ten chuckled as he peeled them off. He marvelled at your glistening pussy.

"What's 100 on your list?", you asked breathlessly. Ten grinned widely. "Fuck till you drop"

That was good to know.

Ten didn't waste any time pushing into you. You were so wet that he had no problem doing so. He adopted a quick pace fucking you like his life depended on it. Your loud moans tore through his headquarters. Ten huffed and grunted, pulling your body closer to his.

His fingers dug into your skin, surely leaving marks. You held yourself up on your elbows and spread your legs wider. Ten threw your leg over his shoulder and made you lay on your side so that he could fuck you deeper.

Your hand came down to rub your clit. Moved your hand away and replaced your fingers with his thumb. He started pushing you to your own orgasm. You grabbed your tit, squeezing it gently as you let your head fall back.

"Such a tight pussy," Ten grunted while rutting his cock into you. "Feels so fucking good."

You fully agreed with him. It felt amazing. Perhaps it was because of the sad amount of sex you had in your regular life that you were submitting to him so desperately. No one had ever made you feel the way he was right now.

The knot in your stomach burst, walls clenching around his cock tightly. Ten groaned as you fell apart on him. "Shit, turn around," he instructed, impatient to get back inside you.

You got on your hands and knees, raising your hips for him. He slapped your ass as he pushed back into you. Ten leaned forward and grabbed your hair, pulling you up against his chest. He wrapped his fingers around your throat, choking you lightly. You loved how it felt.

Holding onto his wrist, you pushed your ass back against his hips. Ten bit into your shoulder ever so often, fingers coming back to your clit. You mewled as he overstimulated you. Your knees were about to give way any second now.

Ten made you put your leg back on the ground, pushing your knee further over the table. The tip of his cock brushed against your sweet spot. Your eyes rolled back, a sensual scream leaving your parted lips. Ten hummed in delight, biting down on your earlobe. You reached behind yourself, hand resting on his hip. "Let me get on top," you managed to say. Ten held your waist and sat down on his chair, bringing your with him.

Placing your hands on his lap, you started bouncing on his cock. Ten kissed the nape of your neck, hot breath fanning on your shoulder. You could already feel a second orgasm approaching. Ten held your hips down on him, stopping you.

"Let me take control," he said, bringing your feet to his knees. He hooked his arms underneath your knees and raised you up slightly, bucking his hips up into you from below.

You put your hands over his, head falling back against his shoulder. Ten sped up quickly, fucking up into you while bringing your body down on his cock. His tip pushed at your sweet spot with each thrust making your toes curl in ecstasy. "Fuck keep going, I'm gonna cum," you warned, biting your lip.

"Me too," he breathed, concentrating on your approaching orgasms. Ten pressed his face into your neck, lips nipping and sucking at your skin softly.

Before you knew it, you were cumming. Ten snapped his cock into you one last time before emptying himself into you a second time. He groaned out loud, holding onto you as he rode out his high. Your thighs shook gentle, chest rising and falling dramatically. Once you were sure he was through, you let go of his hands.

You pushed yourself off his cock and quickly got to dressing yourself. You checked the time on your phone. It was almost morning now. Seeing Ten decently clothed, you turned him around and cuffed him, leading him back up the stairs and out the warehouse to your car.

"No one's ever finding out about this okay? Cause I swear if they do I'm gonna add kidnapping to your long list of charges."

Ten replied with his ridiculously attractive laugh. "Did I kidnap you though?"

You pushed him into your car and shut the door. "It won't be that hard to convince the judge that you did," you shared as you got into the car.

Ten sighed and leaned back into the seat. "I think I should let you know now. I never gave you any Provestra to begin with."

●○●○●○●○●○●○●

tagging: @hoehousenet @neosmutcollective @neowritingsnet @kdiarynet @ficscafe @chwe-yeeun @choijwiss @giveortake @lqsience

#neosmutsongs #ten smut #ten imagines #ten scenarios #ten oneshot #nct smut #wayv smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct oneshots #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv oneshots #kpop smut #ten x reader #nct x reader #wayv x reader #neosmutcollective #ficscafe #hoehousenet #kdiarynet #neowritingsnet

[thefanficmonster]

Hey, I'm the 3word anon! I guess to make this easier, you call call me 📚🌻

I just wanted to say that you did an amazing job! I loved reading what you've done! You said that you wanted more words so here it is your next words: tradition, needle and tribute

Love, 📚🌻

I'm so glad you liked it dear 📚🌻 ! I absolutely love this challenge and I don't think I'll ever get tired of it hehe. Hope you enjoy this one too!

Freedom

Pairing: Rick Flag x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of drug use, Mentions of injury Spoiler Free 😊

Genre: Romance, Humor

“Flag, I have someone coming on-board with you.“ Waller’s voice comes in through the radio of the jet colonel Rick Flag was about to take off with, taking the Suicide Squad on their newly assigned mission.

He rolls his eyes, engine of the jet roaring to signal it’s ready to lose contact with the ground and rise up into the skies - much like Rick, who’s already fed up with the Squad’s members who are explicitly annoying and pesky today, promising him a ton of headaches in the near future. With that in mind, these news Waller has given him so suddenly, he’s not particularly excited to welcome another lunatic on the jet. Another lunatic to deal with.

“Who the hell are you sending? Don’t you think my hands are already full enough?!“ He yells at the top of his lungs in order for his voice to overpower the engine’s loudness.

“I’m here to help you, you ungrateful piece of shit!“ This voice, familiar voice, doesn’t emerge from the radio, instead it’s coming from right behind him and is equally as strained as his due to the loud, ear-bleeding surroundings.

Before Rick can even comprehend the presence of another person, said person gets seated on the copilot’s seat, equipping a pair of headphones so the two can communicate without pushing their lungs to the brink of giving out.

“What the hell are you doing here, L/N?“ He asks, his eyes unable to hide even a little bit of the confusion that the girl’s presence has brought upon him.

Contrary to his seriousness and shock, the girl gives him a bright, almost teasing smile, “Oh come on, Flag. I have a soft spot for you, you know, I like helping you.“ She tilts her head ever so slightly, “And I don’t feel like giving Waller the pleasure of detonating this bomb at the back of my neck.“

“Thought so.“ He scoffs, watching Y/N’s movements out of the corner of his eye as she straps herself in. 

She rolls her eyes, cracking her knuckles before turning to him, deciding to pick up on this petty war, just to make matters worse for Rick and more amusing for herself, “Aren’t you gonna shoot me? I mean, it’s our tradition.”

Rick cringes, recalling the exact event - or rather events, plural - she’s referring to: the night he arrested her and a few others, all henchmen of the Joker. Unlike her co-workers however, Y/N put up one hell of a fight while those fuckers chose flight. Their decision didn’t get them far while hers led her to the hospital wing of the Belle Reve prison, a bullet in her side fired at her by colonel Flag. Seeing the report files on the altercation, Waller immediately knew the girl was something else and recruited her for the Suicide Squad.

Unfortunately, her first instinct when her eyes first landed upon the colonel was to pounce at him, despite her low chances of succeeding in her intentions considering there were guards and soldiers literally everywhere, all with guns ready to fire. Yet still, Flag was the one who shot her yet again, this time less dangerously close to fatal.

Yeah, she has a right to be pissed and a right to call it their tradition, but it’s also safe to say that their dynamic has improved. They went on to go on a few more missions together without any complications or unwanted altercations. Sure, there were snide remarks and petty comments here and there, but those could be considered compliments when compared to the shootings.

“When are you gonna let that go?“ Rick snaps, his eyes remaining fixated ahead while the jet slowly ascends, “I got you off the streets. I freed you from that psychopath. The last thing you should be is mad!”

There is a long pause between the two, leading Rick to sneak a glance at his co-pilot. She appears to be deep in thought, staring ahead much like he’s supposed to be doing right now. She doesn’t seem like she’s conjuring up a sarcastic response which would be totally up her alley, but oddly enough she seems to be genuinely thinking about what he said. He starts feeling a bit shitty for having snapped at her like that - she wasn’t completely wrong to keep rubbing it in his face, she did suffer two gunshot wounds from him, after all.

“I’m not mad.“ Y/N finally speaks up, not sparing him as much as a look, “I’m grateful. The Joker isn’t the only thing I was trying to escape. One half the day I was doing his dirty work, the other half I had a needle stuck in my arm or was out cold in a drug induced half-coma.“ This time she does turn to take in the expression change that’s happened on his face and she seems pleased with the shock and confusion she sees. “Bet you didn’t know that, did ya?“ Contemplating her next move for a second, she plays with the belts of her bulletproof vest and gear before seemingly deciding on what to do. Her fingers quickly undo the belts and buttons of the gear that’s covering her torso, removing the strong and dense protective material to expose the skin of her side where there’s a scar where she had to have surgery to get the bullet removed. Around the scar there’s a tattoo of a peculiar looking flower, masking the line as a part of itself, “I got that tattoo as a reminder of that night. A tribute to more than one freedom coming to me at once.” She quickly readjusts her gear, and slumps into the seat with a sigh of a deflating balloon. “No longer a slave, no longer an addict. Though, addicts are slaves too - slaves to our own brain’s dependency on a substance that’s destroying us.”

Rick is at a loss for words. He wasn’t expecting that, never did he think Y/N was an addict as well prior to being a henchwoman and then a prisoner. That’s probably due to the fact that she’s always been in a great physical shape, ready to take on the enemy whenever and wherever. “Damn, fucking hell, I’m sorry you had to go through that, Y/N...“ He really doesn’t know what’s there to say when he now feels even shittier than he did before.

He almost jumps out of his skin when he feels her hand on his bicep, “I would still be going through it if it wasn’t for you. In fact, come to think of it, I should apologize for pouncing at you like that when all you did was do me a favor.” She giggles quietly before adding, “But I won’t.”

He too allows himself a small laugh, “I wasn’t expecting you to.“

Of course he wasn’t, he’s come to know her well. And he also knows it’s nothing personal - Y/N is simply not the type of girl who apologizes. That he can stomach, but imagining his co-pilot seat unoccupied on the way back from this mission he cannot.

Damn it, Flag. God fucking damn you, you’ve done it again haven’t you, he asks himself, knowing the answer perfectly well already.

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