#cat with knife and big fish… what will they do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-fluff-piece · 8 months

Text

Tropetember 11

Modern day restaurant - enemy colleagues to lovers

You work at baratie - for some reason, Sanji hates you.

But when you meet outside of the restaurant, things change

Sanji looked like a literal popstar: handsome face, great physique. But he was your worst nightmare. He was the collegue that hated your guts.

You salted too much or too little, you weren't fast enough, he even nagged you about how you cut tomatoes for a simple salad. A real ass. He had adored you for a full two minutes before learning that Zeff had hired you to bring innovation to Baratie, pushing Sanji from his throne as the restaurants golden boy.

Every day was a fight against him. Zeff hired you because you graduated top of your class in one of the best schools for gastronomy. Learning from the best had made you confident that you could survive in this kitchen. Both regarding the work and the tough tone, but Sanji got to you.

You were just preparing fish as the hair on you neck raised - Sanji alarm.

As you cut the Filet, you heard a "tssk", already setting you off.

"This is a gourmet restaurant, not a butcher shop" He hissed.

"Oh really? Than why do you act like this was a cheap speed dating event every night, you pervert?" Your little burn earned you a chuckle from the other cooks.

In a second, Sanji was behind you, his hand on yours, grabbing the knife with your hand. In seconds, he had perfectly prepared the filet, the movements of his hands were precise and practiced.

"That's how you do it" He said and swaggered away again.

"I could have done it by myself, you stuck up jerk" you shouted behind him, gesturing with the knife.

"It's a long time until you can dance with the big boys, little girl" He answered as he vanished into the dining area, doubtlessly planning to chat up some poor woman.

Your heart was pounding hard. You would show him. Somehow.

Sanji

When he first saw her, she looked like any other girl. Cute, pretty. But now, she made his skin crawl. New shooting star at the restaurant? From some fancy school? And Zeff loved her every idea. But Sanji knew her kind - only a great career in mind but no respect for food, no character. No heart. He couldn't respect her as a cook.

But she was good, if he didn't watch out, he'd stay behind. He couldn't deny that she brought exciting ideas and techniques to the table, but he didn't have to openly admit it, either. He had learned his trade the hard way, from Zeff. He would take over the restaurant one day, not her.

He had sworn to himself to never treat a lady badly, but she got to him. Little miss perfect. She was a great cook, she had a quick mouth and a drive that was hard to ignore. He loved their little shit talking duels more than he would want to admit. It was exciting him more than a new lady guest these days.

Zeff tried to keep them separate, to minimise fighting, and for a few busy hours he forgot she was there. Almost. He more than once turned around, having heard adorable little sighs - only to see that they belonged to her.

When it got late and the restaurant emptied, he went outside for a smoke. Enjoying the cool air, having a moment of silence.

"Psspss!" He heard.

Carefully, he peered into the dark alley behind the restaurant. Was that y/n? Did she feed...stray cats?

You

What a shift. It was a hard job, but it made you proud. Time for a break.

The night before you had seen a group of stray cats in the streets. You took the cuts from the fish and chicken, that would be thrown away, and waited in the alley.

Soon, a big, burly red tabby cat, one eyed and dirty, approached you.

"Psspss!" You held your hand out. The stray came cautiously nearer and sniffed your hand. You put a plate with the leftovers on the pavement in front of him, and after a short inspection he began to eat the scraps.

"Good little tigger!" You scratched his ear carefully. You have decided to call him tigger, like the one from winnie the pooh!

"What's that?" A harsh voice asked. It was Sanji, his chef's attire was unbuttoned and a cigarette smouldered in the corner of his mouth.

Fuck, not that guy!

He took the scene in with scrutiny, no doubt thinking how to report to Zeff that you were feeding vermin behind the restaurant.

"It's not what it looks like!" You tried to defend the situation. "It's...uhm" But you couldn't think of anything.

"You're wrong, lady!" He looked angry, intense.

"His name is Garfield!" Sanji passionately petted the cat.

"What?"

"Garfield. He likes lasagna." Sanji smiled now, a relaxed, happy smile. To Die for.

"Didn't know you were into stray cats" He said, still running his hand through the cats thick fur.

"They're poor things, I can't ignore them" you said, still unsure what to think.

For a while, you Two just watch the little feline devour his dinner. He snorted and spewed like a little pig,.it made you giggle.

You hadn't expected that a posh guy like Sanji would even touch a dirty stray.

"You know, I've been feeding him, too. He has a few friends as well, but they're shy." He said, looking at you with an new softness in his eyes.

"I gotta say, didn't think you liked animals." He muttered more to himself than you.

"Of course. They need help, so I help them" it was a simple fact. You watched as garfield/ tigger finished his meal and vanished into the night again.

"Well, break is over." You collected the plate and turned to go back into the kitchen.

"Stay a little" Sanji said, his voice sounded genuinely charming, promising that he would make it worth your while.

So you stayed while he smoked.

"You know, when I was small I would cook for the Rats in my parents house" He said, making you chuckle.

"Rats?" You asked, unbelieving.

"Yeah, it's true" He winked at you, suddenly a full gentleman, "vermin in our house."

"Did they like it?" You asked, imagining him cooking little meals.

"They didn't complain" he looked sheepishly at you.

"That sounds so sweet" you said. He laughed.

"Normally, people call it disgusting" he sounded a bit sad.

"Well, I think it's cute. Rats are cute" you stated.

"They are!" He agreed.

A conversation about rat paws ensued, about their little button eyes and how intelligent they where.

When Zeff called you inside from your break, you both returned to the kitchen for cleaning the place up.

When everything was done and it was time to go home, he waited for you.

"Need a lift home?" He asked, standing in front of his car. It was old, used and bruised.

"Why not" you rounded the vehicle and sat in the passenger seat. After cleaning out a bag, empty bottles and some perfume.

"Yeah, sorry about that, didn't think I'd drive a lady home" He said, looking embarrassed.

"I'm used to it. You should see my dad's car - it's full of straw and smells like dog." You said.

"Good man!" He laughed.

The drive home was a bit awkward, you were still getting used to him being nice.

"Sanji, why are you so nice all of a sudden?" You asked.

"There we are" you said as the car pulled into youe road.

"If garfield likes you, you must be OK." He said, as if a cat could explain his sudden change in demeanor. Leaving out the part that his anger had partly been because of the sheer need to kiss her that he couldn't explain. Or his need, right now, to reach over and grab her thigh.

"That's my house" you pointed to a grey apartment building.

"I'll bring you to your door."

_____

And that's it for today because life has a way of happening and I have no time to continue at this point, I am so sorry.

My own little cat needs to go to the vet and I hope it turns out OK 😔

Taglist

@yeeeeezly @waitingmydemons @stariski @livwritesfics @violetmatcha

#one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #x you #tropetember #modern day au #one piece

226 notes · View notes

visceravalentines · 2 years

Text

Michael Myers is the human equivalent of a cat and you can't change my mind. Here is a collection of tiny fluffy blurbs proving my point. I hope you enjoy!

Michael Myers x GN!Reader, no content warnings besides the man himself

He’s ignored you all day. You’ve tried to engage him in a movie, a walk around the block, even tried to entice him into the bedroom. He dismissed you every time with a blank stare. You finally gave up and started working on a project you’ve been putting off.

Not twenty minutes later, he appears in the doorway and stands there watching. You acknowledge him briefly, focused on your task. You don’t hear him move but you sense him behind you, smile up at him when he bumps against your back.

He brushes his fingers through the hair at the back of your neck.�� “Oof, you gave me goosebumps,” you tell him. You keep working.

He puts his hands on your shoulders. You kiss his wrist. “How are you?” you ask. You get no response. You never do.

After a minute he sighs, bends over you to rest his chin on your head, puts his big hand right in the middle of what you’re working on.

You stop, fight a smile. “Oh, now you want attention?” He grunts noncommittally. “Well I’m doing this now.”

His pushes his face into the side of your neck and you feel a warm, wet pinch. “Michael! Did you just bite me?”

He steps back, pulls your chair with him. “Ohh my god. That is so rude.” You look up at him. He is unmoved by your criticism. “Can I help you?”

He comes around in front of you, drops to his knees between your legs, leans his head against your chest. You put your arms around him and tease his curls.

“I have been trying to hang out with you all day, you know.” He grunts again. “Why am I tied into your schedule?” He squeezes you. “Fine, let’s hang out.”

🔪

You look up from your book at the sound of the back door. A moment later he steps into view, knife in hand, mask sprayed with blood.

“Welcome home, handsome,” you say.

He sets the knife on the table and moves closer. You lay the book aside and get up to inspect him for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

He shakes his head once and digs his hand into his pocket.

“Oh boy. Did you bring me something?”

He fishes out a tiny porcelain mouse abducted from someone’s mantle and places it in your open palm. It is adorable and not covered in blood.

“Wow, I love this,” you say honestly. “Thank you!”

He is reaching into his other pocket. “Oh, two things?” You hold out your other hand. There is a clicking sound like nails on a tabletop. Teeth. They are teeth. He has brought you six human teeth.

You gather yourself for a second and then look up at him with a careworn smile. “Thank you so much. You really, really shouldn’t have.”

His eyes glitter behind the mask. You know he knows that you hate it and love it in equal measure. That’s why he does it. You should consider yourself lucky tonight; one time he brought you a finger. A finger.

🔪

The afternoon sun is golden as you get home from work. You look up at the second-story window right in the front of the house and sure enough, you see his silhouette looming like a Halloween decoration. It’s his favorite spot. He spends hours looking out at the world, just observing, thinking.

He stares at you blankly and you smile and wave. Even from a distance, you can see his gaze shift from you to something across the street: two women shooting the breeze while their kids draw with chalk on the sidewalk. Maybe it’s because you know him so well, but the look on his face is utterly predatory.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath. You’d better get in there and distract him with something, or your neighbors are going to end up on the news.

🔪

“Okay, hear me out.”

You regard him uneasily, hands on your hips. He already looks unimpressed.

“We’re having grilled cheese and tomato soup. You love that.”

He does. He is waiting for the bad news.

“But we’re out of milk. So I have to make the soup with water.”

His ability to communicate such abject disgust with zero change to his expression is incredible.

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise it will still be good.”

He is the pickiest eater you have ever met. Not only is his list of acceptable foods limited, but he eats on a strict schedule with almost no wiggle room. There is only one right way to make the things he likes, and a thousand wrong ways. He would rather starve than eat something he thinks is gross.

When you present him with the offending soup he looks at you like you have spit in it in front of him.

“Look, Michael, I promise it’s fine.” You sip a spoonful. It is not fine. He knows it.

He eats the grilled cheese with enthusiasm. He finishes yours too. He pushes the soup away and does not touch it. No amount of cajoling will convince him otherwise.

🔪

You are on the couch, Michael’s head in your lap. You have been stroking his curls, scratching his neck and shoulders, caressing his handsome face for almost an hour. Every time you try to get up or change position he grips your knee tightly, will not let you move. Periodically he lets out a contented sigh, adjusts his position, guides your hand to a new spot.

Your legs are falling asleep. You continue running your thumb over his jaw as you shift your weight just a little, just enough to free up the circulation.

He sits up abruptly. “Sorry, Mikey, come back.”

He stands up and stalks away without looking at you. You watch with absolute bewilderment as he sits on the other couch, makes himself comfortable, and then looks at you like nothing happened.

“You are so fucking weird,” you whisper, almost to yourself.

🔪

You are out for a midnight stroll on the arm of a murderer who, for now, is content to leave everyone alive. The moon is full and the street is bright beneath it. Michael’s expression is serene. You know he enjoys the breeze on his face when he can get it. Walks like this are so normal, so refreshing, you can almost pretend it’s not three in the morning.

A branch hangs over the sidewalk. You move to duck around it, but Michael takes hold of it with his free hand and snaps it in half.

“Well that was…effective,” you remark. He looks at you impassively.

A block later, someone has left a tricycle in their front yard. He pulls away from you, picks it up with one hand. You furrow your brow in confusion. He throws it lazily into the neighbor’s yard.

“Michael,” you say, “you can’t do that.” But he can, and he does, and he pulls you along before you can drag it back where it belongs.

He behaves himself for the next few minutes, and you are nearly lulled back into contentment. You don’t question it when he stops and picks up a rock; he’s always bringing home odds and ends. He does not look at you as he lobs the projectile across the street directly into the front window of a house and you hear the glass splinter. The sound is deafening in the silence.

“Michael Myers!” you hiss, grabbing his arm. He is smirking. For him it is the equivalent of a shit-eating grin. “I cannot believe you just did that!” Lights turn on in the house and you haul him quickly down the street. “I swear to god I can’t take you anywhere.”

#michael myers #michael myers x reader #my writing

1K notes · View notes

vigilbutts · 2 months

Text

uhhh i saw people doing these so why not. anyways.

Additional stuff below readmore

Kalla is great for cuddling with and she can even become a furnace if you're feeling cold. A very fluffy snuggly furnace. She loves picking people up and fighting or wrestling with people... and holding people... Very hands-on gal. Get manhandled, nerd (but only if you're down for that). Just... don't let her cook anything. It will be both burnt and undercooked at the same time. There is also a chance she won't know it's a romantic date instead of a platonic date, because she is kinda dense. Lastly, don't mind the flames, they won't hurt you.

Luis gets a bit awkward on dates or when talking with new people because he is a bit of a workaholic and does not socialize all that much. He hates dressing up and doesn't care too much for overly fancy settings, so this WILL be a "casual" date...with lovely food they've cooked just for you (and if you like eating fish, he will catch them himself! for you!). It is an expensive restaurant high quality meal, without the expensive restaurant. They will also fall asleep during cuddles (he loves naps... and is afflicted with permanent sleepy bitch disease). May potentially show you his knife collection.

Aster is a big fan of making things go boom, so, naturally, that will be included in any date she goes on. But hey, you get a personalized fireworks show in the middle of nowhere (the only place she's allowed to make boom happen 😔). Also, she might even give you a piece of shrapnel she thought was cool. Or a rock. Or a piece of dragonbrand if yall really hit it off (yes, it would be a piece of her brand, chipped right off her hair branches). She doesn't really get what dates are beyond 'romantic stuff' and her love language is explosions and whatever cool thing she just found.

Senna will bring honey as a little date treat to share. She doesn't talk much and is very quiet when she does speak, as she prefers to Observe and listen. If you like to talk a lot, she will let you do it! Also, bonus points if you ask her about her interest in bees, she will hit you with the bee hyperfixation beam. Also, yes, the honey she brings is from her bee friends, and she will tell you all about the bees' favorite flowers.

The Ladies is your regular everyday overpowered sentient magical anomaly (mesmer flavored). She is very chaotic by nature of being a bundle of sentient magic, but she means well. Also they will be wearing a different outfit every time you look away. Because fuck you, magic wardrobe change. Also, she should not be the one organizing or planning the date, absolutely do NOT let her have that responsibility. She doesn't even know what a date is supposed to be like 😭. Also when you date The Ladies, you are also dating their clones. Because the clones are them, they are the clones. It's fine, dating her is like having 50 partners but they're all the same person.

Mesmer!Luis is less shy and awkward than his canon counterpart when it comes to dating, but is also slightly less of a romantic. He also doesn't have quite the same hangups around dressing up (but he will be very unhappy if he can't "dress" a little slutty with his illusions) and fancier settings! He will only cook you a little dessert treat and not a whole meal, but will let you touch his chest or biceps, if you like. Absolute cuddle fiend and he's warmer than a human should be, but it's fine, promise. This version is also less likely to fall asleep, but the chances are still decent enough that he might! Could be convinced to show off and flex his fun little mesmer tricks, if asked.

Beans is just a lil creature! This gremlin is not supposed to be charr in their usual form, so they are a little awkward and clumsy with this new form. May whack you with it's tail, that thing is sososo long compared to the tail it is used to. It will probably drag you into some wild adventure or scheme. It will also break the 4th wall and get very Meta. Beans is also very fond of memes and bright colors.

Alice has been a ghost since King Adelbern betrayed his people and bound their spirits to fight for an eternity against the charr. Alice is not fully bound any longer. In her free time, she enjoys a bit of sparring and... well... all this freedom is new so she doesn't know much about her own likes and interests beyond that! Also, she is like, really cute. If she likes you enough, she may even take off her helmet for you. She may also be subject to outbursts as she fights to keep control of herself. It would be Very Bad if the Foefire takes over (I advise running, if such a thing were to happen).

#text #some of these nerds have canon partners but! this is for funsies #had to include the silly meme options #also sorry i like taking character screens in mistlock for the lighting!!!! lmao #gw2 #valentines meme

19 notes · View notes

hirik0 · 4 months

Text

Back to you part 4

Makarov/Yuri

Yuri is scrolling, sets over sets of photos not sure which one to purchase. Would his lawyer tell him to not do this, absolutely, is he trying to use a loophole that he technically didn't comided a crime, debatable. There are so much easier ways to hack your ex, then to cat fish him, asking a crime lord to do the catfishing for you in exchange to work for said crime lord. He just needs to find a set of pictures of a person his ex totally would drop his pants for. He has already prepared a bunch of fake profiles for social media, hiden malware in a link he just needs a face. "Just choose one, this woman are all fucking atractive", Yuri tells himself he needs to gets everything ready before he leaves for the fight ring, using the whore card Makarov gave him. Three weeks ago he got a dubious packet with a venetian carnival mask to wear to the ring, to keep anonymity for the spectators. A bit risky in Yuris opinion but well it's not his fight ring and it looks like its running really good, that way. He spins the mask that will cover the uper half of his face in his hand, being nervous. Its a yester, with a black base colour with white details, on the top of the mask a yester hat in black and blue. He takes a deep breath before closing his eyes, moving his fingers over the screen. He stops his finger and open his eyes he choose a very generic looking blond woman, for the photos he will use. He looks through the set, it's a big one with a lot of pictures for many scenarios and even he is a bit scandalised by the lewed photos this profile is providing. Its perfect, matching the sexual preferences of his ex perfectly. He finishes his purchase and is setting up the phone with all the photos setting up the Instagram account with some of the tamer photos using some silly caption he is coping from accounts of real people using the all the hastags they are using. He then turns the phone of and puts it in a box. He needs to get ready to leave. He walks in his bedroom looking at the dark blue dress shirt that matches the mask with a dark pair of jeans. He is unsure if he looks like he just want to join the normal partielife of Saint Petersberg like this, but well he already knows that a sertain dress up is expected at the main ring. A modern version of bread and circus like in ancient Rome, he already is working with someone in Makarovs organisation he just dont know whom, but this person is one of his best buyers so that hopefully will improve his chances to join. He walks back into the living room, looking at the box the masked arrived for the first time since he took the mask out, looking for any hints, to identify his contact or atleast not getting caught of guard at the ring. He nearly misses that fake bottom the box has only catching it, because he shaked the box and hearing something move in the box. He needed the help of a knife to get the fake bottom out. Seeing a now familiar card. A entry card for the ring on folded a piece of paper. This is the confirmation that the mask was not send to him with Makarovs knowledge, this could be a good or a bad thing, but now he dont have to use the whore card at least. He looks at the card noticing it's a bit different then the one he already has, like its to be expected by cards that Makarov hands out personally, wich means who ever controls the card upon entry likely also knows that Makarovs card is given to prostitutes and any woman he will fuck, Yuri feels anger heating up his face. Fuck his it's only a whore card if you give it back bullshit, fucking liar, he will keep the card. Next he opens the paper, reading the instructions.

Wait outsite at 19:35, wear something nice, I think I can introduce you to some people for buisness at the ring.

Yuri checks the time its 18:50. More time for him to overthink everything and be nervous. He assumes Z is his contact in the organisation, but who is Z and what are his goals? Nothing is for free in the world of crime and having nothing to work with makes him feel uneasy. He paces from the couch to the kitchen an back for 15 minutes. Using his outdated knowledge about the Russian organised crime. Still around 30 minutes till he has to be outside.

How did the person even figured out where he lives? When he goes to the ring with somebody will he even be able to talk with Makarov. He sits down on the couch bouncing his legs, waiting sucks. He decides to play a stupid mobile game to pass the time, before he carelessly lets it drop on the couch to get ready. Like the last time he don't takes his phone with him, only money, his keys, cigarette, lighter, the card and the mask. He puts a jacket on, to hide the mask in a pocked on the inside where he also puts the card. He's getting picked up, nothing unusual people get picked up all the time, he calms himself down while walking down the stairs. He dont has to wait for long before a black limousine is holding infornt of him. He takes one deep breath before opening the back door and entering the car. "Ah the Magpie, nice to finally having a face to the name." Yuri is greated by a man, Victor Zakhaev. "Mister Zakheav" Yuri greats back, after closing the door. He thought about a lot of people that sent him the mask, but non of was a direct rival of Makarov. He is in deep shit, but its to late by now they are already driving towards the ring. "Didn't know the ring is that popular that even rivals attend." Yuri atmids having to suppress the urge to bounce his legs again. "Oh, some of the fighters are mine, you know it's like our own boxing league ", Zakheav explains bored, looking Yuri up and down, Yuri nods along to what's said. A illegal 'boxing' league organised by Saint Petersberg worst of the worst of society. "Do people die?", Yuri asks knowing 5 years ago that was forbidden. "Oh sometimes fighters die from internal injuries, but it's usally a accident. No direct deadly force allowed. You know its like the gladiators in ancient Rome in someway, popular fighters bring a lot of money if they die we lose it." Yuri nods again there is one question he has, how did Zakheav found him, he needs the answer but knows now is not the time, maybe on the way back. He should ask the answer can prevent from getting found by the police or worse. "You ever gone to on of the fights?" Zakheav asks intressted, very focused on Yuris body language. "I recently decided to stay in Saint Petersberg for a longer time, before that I lived here and there, so no", Yuri lies hoping the other don't catches it or if he does he is understanding enough to let him get away with it. "Really never the time to watch a fight?" Zakheav digs a bit deeper. "No, lived outside of Russia when the ring got really popular heard rumours for a long time but never intressted enough to go." This wasn't a lie because the ring only got popular 2 years ago. "I think you will enjoy it, ever meet Makarov before?" "I heared of him", Yuri lies pushing the thoughts of a half nacked Makarov down. "Of course hard to not hear about him." Yuri has the feeling Zakheav knows a bit more then he lets on, to Yuris displeasure. "For your own safety please stay close", Zakheav says before pulling out his mask. It is fully covering his face, with delicate blue drawings around the eyes, the same blue as Yuris mask so everyone will know he's here with Zahheav. Yuri also puts on his mask, not liking that he is that heavy associate with a direct rival of Makarov and that only half his face is covered but he assumes the full cover is reserved for VIPs.

They get in without anyone even asking for a card to enter and they are rather late, the ring that is in an abandoned public pool is already packed with masked people. Most of them like Yuri only wear one that is covering the uper half of the face, only a few he sees with a full face mask all of them with other colours. He will not find Makarov here, he has to hope Makarov finds him and even thats not ideal. They push themselves through the mass of people till they reach the VIP area, again nobody wants to see a card, the perks of being invited by one of the big names. They have a perfect view on the empty former pool from here, but Yuri is noticing the red and brown stains on the blue tiles. Somebody is walking towards them by the colour he's wearing he also belongs to Zakheavs men. "He's fighting to night, saw him earlier his absolute furious about something, it will be brutal to night. Excellent day to bring a guest." The men says before sitting next to Yuri. "Who?", Yuri asks having the feeling he asks the most dumbest question in this place. "The owner himself, Makarov."

Yuris mouth drops open at this at the same time he knows he will not be able to talk with his old friend. What a waste of his time, to come here. A woman in very short cloths is walking towards them and Yuri thinks its generous to even call it clothes. "What can I bring the gentlemen to drink?", the waitress asks them with a smile and Yuri is staring at her. "We take 3 whisky on the rock", Zakheav orders for them. The woman walks away and Yuri stars at her ass while she walks away. "The waitress are of limits, but there are plenty of whores here to fuck", Zakheav says to Yuri with a dirty smile. "Of course I was just looking", Yuri says and he was only looking, woman will never do it for him. "What happens if Makarov loses a fight?", Yuri asks intressted in the rules. "The person the fighters owns gets all the winning of Makarovs men", Zakheav explains exited, so today is a day one can make big money. "Can all bosses join the fighting?" "Few do and when only sending a substitute at most, Makarov is the only that is fighting himself." Yuri becomes the feeling he is uterly fucked, to come today to see a fight. "You ready to bet?" Zakheav men asks exited. "I wait till I get a feeling for the fighters", Yuri answers, he's so nervous he has to force himself to sit still and not throw up. Yuri looks around at masked faces see around 20 diffrent colors around ad still on spot in the VIP area is empty probably Makarovs place. His heart is beating heavily in his chest, he should be feel lucky that Makarov is not here but in the ring tonight, but somehow he has the feeling this is making everything worse. He should have come atleast with Milena even if she don't wears Makarovs colours she's a better option then fucking Victor Zakheav. A man with a blood red half mask is walking past them towards the empty spot, one of Makarovs men, Yuri assumes and his heart drops when he thinks he reconices the men. Andrei Nolan, if he reconises Yuri is fucked Makarov won't forgive him this. He should have ask Makarov if the mask is from him and not just assume it's from one of his men. Yuri turns away, his legs are itching now he absolutely has to supress all his tells to not get Andrei's attention.

The first rounds are starting and Yuri is getting more and more nervous about Makarov entering the ring, but also is picking up on the rules. Touching the wall means you lose, if you hit the ground you're out and the later you fight the harder it becomes because nobody care to remove the blood from the floor, causing a slipping hazard. He barely touches his drink in fear Makarov changes his mind about fighting today and shows up in the VIP area instead. "And now one the first of the most anticipated fights of the night Makarov vs Romanov", the announcers voice is coming out of the speaker. Yuri takes as sip of his drink keeping the liquid in his mouth the alcohol burning on his tounge before he swallows it when Makarov and his opponent enter the ring. This time way less tired Yuri even can see what the tattoos on Makarovs back are. The stars marking him as a thief's in law, the gigantic wolfs head that mark him as a leader, the church towers meaning he served prison time. Honestly seeing Makarov in the ring is even worse then waiting for his fight.

Makarov feels two eyes burning holes in his back and don't think much about it, a lot of people are trying to force him dead with starring. He needs to focus on the fight he can always send Andrei a message about this later. He and Romanov are circeling eachother waiting for the other to open their defence or slipping on a blood puddle, because the arena only gets cleaned after a rounds of fights are over. He is fuming today Captain Price shut down one of his operations before it even really began what must mean there is a mole in his organisation. Romanov is lowering his arms just a tiny bit and its Makarovs opening, he uses a hard right jab hitting Romanovs shoulder and instantly has to duck his head so he dont gets a left hook in the face. It's frustrating Makarov that Romanov, the champion of green, the Petrovs, is his first fight. The two are each others biggest rival, with Romanov having the best defence of all fighters and him as one of the most aggressive attackers it usally comedown who has more nerves and he knows that he dont has the nerves right now. They circel each other again and Makarov again feels the eyes on him, sending a nice feeling down his spine, but he knows better then to look for the person. Makarov trys a bluff pretending to lower his guard and Romanov is actually falling for it. Trying to use a left hook that Makarov can easy block and conter with cross, hearing the crunch when he hits the nose of his opponent, feeling the blood running over his fingers. Looks like Romanov is also not in the best head space to night and Makarov will use it to his advantage. They throw some punches that are either evated or blocked, nothing really happening but Makarov smelled blood now, literally and he gets a hook against his oponends left kidney, was it a dirty move sure but they were allowed. Romanov is stumbeling back nearly slipped on the wet tiles, using his arms to get balance back and Makarov hits him straight against the chin. Romanov falls back, hitting his head heavily against one of the walls, meaning he's out for tonight.

When Makarov is back in the fighters area Andrei is coming towards him, looking grim. He holds out a phone to Makarov with the table of Zakheav he is frowning. So Zakheav brought a guest he dont understand what the problem is with this, till Andrei shows him a video of said guest. The chewing of the bottom lip and the tapping of the foot, he would reconices this tales of a very nervous Yuri everywhere. His mood is getting worse, looks like he has to viste Yuri tonight, because what the actual fuck does he thinks he is doing. Yuri knows the moment Andrei is moving away he's fucked, he tried, he really tried to not be to invested in Makarovs fight, looked not even at the fight, but at a wall the whole time. His lower lip is bleeding from him chewing it to much and halfway through the fight he could not stop tapping his leg and he felt Andrei's eyes burning a hole in the side of his head, but he dont have to much time to worry for now because as Zakheav said in the note he has some people to introduce to Yuri. So Yuri try to ignore the stone in his stomach and be a professional and make some work deals, while he still can.

#call of duty #cod makarov #vladimir makarov #cod yuri #makayuri

20 notes · View notes

ghoulsister1 · 7 months

Note

Would you consider a ( platonic or otherwise) Kuro x siren disguised as a Mermaid one shot? I can imagine fairly youung one try to pull Kuro's trick on him, him seeing through it but also potential. Especially if they could trick marines away or cast illusions thinking it's just a cargo ship or something.

💗My first Anonymous request!💗

I'll be happy to write a Kuro x Siren Reader! I've dabbled a bit in this Mermaid AU and Siren AU in my drafts. I'm curious by the request of a Siren disguised as a Mermaid so I'll do my best. In Greek Mythology, Sirens were depicted as half bird and half woman that sat upon rocks to sing and lure sailors to their deaths, so I'm going with that assumption. But if you meant Siren as a Sea Siren, I apologise. Alright my dear, you've got your story! Enjoy!

Catfish Of The Sea🧜🏼‍♀️

Captain Kuro x Siren!Reader. AU: Mermaids & Sirens. Platonic Relationship. Female Reader. Reader is a Siren with the power of illusion and uses it to disguise herself. A partnership is formed.

🧜🏼‍♀️🐈‍⬛🧜🏼‍♀️🐈‍⬛🧜🏼‍♀️🐈‍⬛🧜🏼‍♀️🐈‍⬛🧜🏼‍♀️🐈‍⬛🧜🏼‍♀️🐈‍⬛🧜🏼‍♀️🐈‍⬛🧜🏼‍♀️🐈‍⬛🧜🏼‍♀️🐈‍⬛🧜🏼‍♀️

Captain Kuro and his Black Cat Pirates fish up a rare find, a mermaid! But Kuro isn't a fool, for you are no ordinary mermaid. You are a Siren, with a very special power.

The sea was calm and all was eerily quiet throughout, a thick fog hung around the area as the dreaded ship of the Black Cat Pirates, the Bezan Black sails through the cloud of fog making the sight of the ship even more ominous to all who looked upon it.

The ship came to a stop as the anchor was lowered, Butchi and Sham hastened to the side of the ship, getting a smaller boat ready to fish.

"Be quick about it!" Ordered First Mate Jango, shivering a bit as he looked about at the fog surrounding them.

"I don't like this fog" Muttered Jango quietly.

"At least this fog acts as the perfect cover, keeping us hidden from the eyes of the Marines" Remarked Captain Kuro, shooting Jango a cold glare.

"I understand Captain but...." Began Jango but Captain Kuro held up his hand, stopping him.

"Enough. Butchi! Sham! Get fishing, now!" Ordered Captain Kuro and the two Black Cat Pirates jumped into the small boat and the boat was lowered into the water below. Once in the water, the two Black Cat Pirates rowed their fishing boat out into the fog to find a good spot to fish as Jango looked on. Soon, they could no longer be seen as the fog engulfed them.

The rest of the Black Cat Pirates awaited their return but as the hours passed by, Jango started to worry. Captain Kuro grew frustrated.

"What is taking them so long? They should be back by now!" Growled Captain Kuro, gritting his teeth in anger.

"Oi Captain! There they are! They are coming this way!" Cried one of the crewmates and from the fog rowed the small fishing boat, Butchi and Sham in it unharmed with what looked a big haul in their fishing net.

The boat with crew and haul was brought back up to the ship. The fishing net was big and really heavy. Captain Kuro smirked, impressed.

"Well done you two. Caught quite a feast for the crew. This should keep us going until we land at the next port" Remarked Captain Kuro walking towards the fishing net.

"It wasn't just fish we caught!" Piped Sham excitedly. Jango raised an eyebrow at that statement.

"What do you mean? You found treasure?" Asked Jango curiously as Butchi and Sham proudly smirked as Butchi unsheated his knife.

"Even better!" Cried Butchi as he cut the net, spilling forth fish, seaweed and.....a person??

There amongst the fish and seaweed was a woman, well it was part woman except instead of legs she had a long, shimmering fish tail with pearlescent scales. The woman, you, turned to the crew as some drew back in shock while others were clamouring to get a closer look.

"A mermaid? How is this better than treasure?!" Shouted Jango angrily. You narrowed your eyes angrily at the First Mate.

"Obviously it's better than treasure! It's a real mermaid!" Reasoned Sham.

"Yeah, we caught a real mermaid! We have our very own mermaid!" Cheered Butchi. You huffed at the words of Butchi, you were nobody's mermaid.

Captain Kuro stepped closer and gazed at you. You looked at him, fluttering your eyelashes and smiling sweetly, flickering your tail a little.

Captain Kuro smirked at you and scoffed, making you frown at him. Why was he scoffing at you? Weren't a fair and beautiful looking mermaid? His crewmates seem to think so.

"That is no mermaid" Remarked Captain Kuro, smirking at you. Your heart dropped at that and looked at him in shock.

"How did he know?!" You Thought, surprised the Captain seemed to see right through your disguise.

"What? But it's a mermaid! Look at her tail!" Cried Sham, shocked at Captain Kuro's remark and little offended.

"She may look like a mermaid to you, but she is not one truly. She is a Siren, in disguise of a mermaid" Declared Captain Kuro confident in himself. The crew looked at their Captain and then to you.

You smirked and lifted the glamour effect off you, revealing your true form. Feathers replaced scales and talons replaced fins. In the end you were revealed to be a beautiful, feathered Siren. The Black Cat Pirates drew back, some had swords already out and ready.

"You saw through my disguise. No one has ever seen through my disguises before. You're something else my dear Captain" You Remarked, impressed by Captain Kuro.

Captain Kuro smirked at you, looking you up and down.

"That's an impressive power you got there" Remarked Captain Kuro.

"My power is illusion. I make people see things they want to see.....or not" You Added the last part with a hint of malice in your voice.

"Really? That's a handy power to have in your arsenal, apart from your singing of course" Smirked Captain Kuro. You chuckled lowly.

"Why of course Captain, my singing can lure even Marines who have strong willpower, crashing into the rocks. They cannot resist my voice. And should they need some encouragement, my mermaid disguise has won me many sailors, fishermen, Marines.........and pirates alike" You Replied.

The Black Cat Pirates shivered but Captain Kuro was more intrigued with the Siren and her power.

"Is it too much to ask you to join my crew?" Asked Captain Kuro.

You were initially planning to slash and carry off at least one pirate from the ship and flee, but Captain Kuro interested you. He was the first pirate, let alone person to see through your disguise and he seemed to not wish you any harm. Maybe being part of his crew wasn't too bad an idea, you'll never go hungry that's for sure should you help Captain Kuro.

"Only if I'm guaranteed to be treated with some respect and that I'm not going to go hungry" You Declared.

"Done" Captain Kuro agreed. And with that, you became part of the Black Cat Pirates.

Your illusion power came in handy, especially against the Marines. You could create the illusion of the Bezan Black in the distance, making the Marines sail towards the supposed ship as the real ship sailed away safely.

In battles, your singing could distract enemies. They'd be too entranced by your voice that the Black Cat Pirates could easily pick them off. Of course, the Black Cat Pirates had to wear special ear muffs to drown out your singing as you could easily mesmerise them all. Captain Kuro was unaffected by your singing and sometimes would ask you to sing for him in his quarters, which you happily did.

You and Kuro were quite a team together and both of you respected each other. Soon Marines and Pirates alike came to fear Captain Kuro and the Black Cat Pirates even more, now that they had a highly dangerous but alluring Siren with them.

💗Thank you for your request and I hope you like the story. I did the best I could and again I went by Greek Mythology for Sirens so I apologise if you meant a different Siren. Again, thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy the story💗

#captain kuro #one piece #one piece netflix #kuro one piece #captain Kuro one piece #request #captain kuro x reader #anonymous request #siren #mermaid #oneshot

29 notes · View notes

ziipzeepzop-eez · 5 months

Text

|| Triple M ||

Triple Threat, Triple Treat.

Emiliano | Miano 🫚🪴❤️‍🔥

:: "silent killer" type — is an absolute machine in his full iguana form; everything is augmented, and his vocal chords are reverted to his reptilian genes the most, so he literally... can't. verbally. when fully shifted. just churrs, coos, screeches, hisses, growls, etc.

:: can communicate with his reptilian brethren just fine tho!! however - he feels bad when he can't talk to zephie when like this, so he just showcases his affection tenfold and speaks a lot with his eyes~

:: fastest, strongest swimmer out of the three.

:: the most.... animalistic? in a sense? he's the most in touch with the iguana aspect of himself; mondo is the most humane, as in he doesn't really change outside of his fully shifted form than in; and mona is right there in the middle.

:: really likes nomming on raw fishes and brings the fam trinkets from deep below in the sea :'))

:: sings songs of the sea, outside the sea. has a beautiful singing voice when he's fully shifted as human and despite not having the same voice when he's full iguana, he still has that beautiful voice. think of a whale song. he sings to the deep-sea creatures and it creates a very calm, serene atmosphere.

:: has a soft heart - doesn't like hunting much, nor confrontation. but when triggered, he's absolutely ruthless. he may be gentle and loving by nature, but it's because he chooses to be.

:: whereas deedo is the most territorial, miano is the most protective. the main man because once you're in his circle, he protects and looks out for you as his own.

:: malewife material 100%

Mondo Gecko | Mondo // Mondie // "Deedo" 🃏💯

:: braids down and out when full geckuana! (palette change once more~)

:: eyes change color in full gecko shift; has the sharpest eyesight out of Triple M.

:: embodiment of the knife cat meme. big chaotic energy.

:: got his two side braids from Mikey — calls them his "mangorine strands" or "orange luck" // just pretend they were orange the whole time lmaoaoao

:: the most amicable, but also the most territorial. do with that what you will.

:: charming, suave, and savvy. the "Face Man" of Triple M; but unlike Leo, he's not as emotionally constipated and has healthy coping outlets. if anything, he's a lot like Mikey in the way that he's not afraid to showcase his true emotions and knows the importance of it!! (another reason they get along so well~) he has such a good grasp on his emotions that he can manipulate them in his favor and is so convincing that it manipulates others. was born for this role, tbh.

:: him and miano race in the water a lot; he runs on top, miano slices through underneath.

:: the smugness in which this man had when zephie's mutated form ended up being a FELLOW GECKO was atrocious. bro was on demon timing 100%

miano snarled and snapped at him a few times, but he milked the opportunity for all it was worth. used it to "steal zeph away" multiple times. miano was not amused. but he was actually a bro and took care of zeph very well to adjust to her new mutated state!! :'')) bc he's a bro.

at the end of it all, mondo is definitely a true bro.

((he spoils the FRICK out of the zephlame kids and loves them all equally, which is soso much, but pocky deffo has a soft place in his heart.

:: was absolute BROS with Beeps like they ALWAYS THREW DOWN that was his MAN that was his HOMEBOY — was absolutely crushed when momo and he broke up & even more so when he had to keep up a brash front bc hello . cousin solidarity?? that's his big sisi (but mona knows how compatible they are and got tired of deedo's mopin. he got the green light and they're still the besties ever dw)

:: teases zephyr a lot but really admires her as a new sister, was territorial already when they were introduced; if miano has to leave zeph on her own in a vulnerable state for any reason, which are very few and very far in-between, whatsoever it may be, deedo is the first person (aside from mona ofc) he looks to.

:: very mature and polite with tiara tho. he knows not to pull no bluster w her lollll - he's like a cheeky son tbh

:: when he first met Mikey, he fell head-over-heels....... literally. he was so awestruck that he tripped on his face and got a bloody nose. miano and momo laughed at his for WEEKS afterwards but HE'S THE ONE who got ✨PAMPERED✨ and WORRIED OVER by the CUTE ORANGE DRAGURTLE so WHO'S THE REAL WINNER HERE YOU MUSSEL SUCKERS??

:: is strangely enough, very good at connecting with the 'big, burly' mutants. he's very protective of raph even tho they probs took the longest to get close. once they did, it's a very lovely bond to see. the bromance is real. thinks him and mona are cute (tho he'd never outwardly admit it)

:: the most gen z out of triple m. he ain't called "the ace" or "the wildcard" for no reason 💥💥💥

:: cried when he found out zephie was preggers. is definitely the wine aunt. (he adores kids can u tell)

:: has fist-fought with Leo at least thrice by now, completely unexplained and unprovoked. they're the bestest, cattiest frenemies ever. they are both "don't even breathe in my general direction" and "I'll help u hide the body bro say no more".

:: very tech-savvy!! his ideas singlehandedly supplemented the underwater network back in their royal home in the Galapagos.

:: crafted a mating/proposal necklace for mikey. it's resting in a beautiful crested seashell in the confines of his closet back home. he's deciding when would be the best time to give it to him.

Mona Lisa | Mona 🔮🌷🌸

:: very lively and expressive when full iguana shift!! her ears have the tendency to wiggle a lot and she coos most often! <33

:: while the sweetest in mannerisms, the most vicious when it comes to calls for violence/hunting. she has claws and teeth - she can and will use them.

:: has the most connections to marine life! mondo may have the business connections to the big guys (which are more reminiscent of shady mafia relationships now that we think about it), mona has friendships all over. it's almost scary.

:: her hair stays the most similar in and out of full iguana !! dunno why. it's just fitting.

:: has the loudest 'siren screech'; they can all do it, with miano's being the most forceful (think sonic waves) and mondo's being the most bass-heavy (bro can deffo scare the whales /lhj), but mona's is most likely the most powerful in terms of..... everything, really.

:: loves to steal zephie from miano while they're on their underwater adventures and swim fast and far until main man can catch them (they employ mondie to hold him back by the BODY so when he comes rocketing along, there's always a disheveled deedo barely hanging off his back/waist) (zephie's in on it too and giggles along, always, curled up around her beloved sister-in-law as she watches her nigh feral fiance in awe)

:: scavenges for all the mystic underwater mushrooms tiara wants/needs!! ; she's besties with all the deep-sea mutant underground circles and they usually give them happily~ if not, well.... mona has some very persuasive tactics, should she have to resort to such. <3

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Miano : The Main Man 🎶💫

Mondo : The Ace, The Wildcard 🃏❤️‍🔥

Mona : The Queen 👑💜

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

@agentturtlecupcake *whistles* come get yo juice ‼️🗣️

:: picrew I used!! bc it's actually my favorite~

#dthau ☘️🐉#miano the main man! 🫚🪴💫#mondo the wildcard 🃏💣💯#mona the queen 👑❤️‍🔥🌹#love my babies love my heartlings #they are that beloved #dthau : headcanons! 💥#dthau : discussions! 💫

17 notes · View notes

antisociallilbrat · 1 year

Text

Losers Hc's

I have so many personal Loser Hc's that just live in my head and I just want to share them. I wanna put them somewhere so I'm putting them here. Some hints of Poly Losers

Ben

He has a peanut allergy, idk why, it's the vibes

Until he met Bev his wardrobe consisted of nerdy t-shirts with awful puns. You know what I'm talking about.

Secretly loves Twilight (him and Richie watch it together)

His favorite drink is lemonade, iykyk

Keeps fish! Like really big aquarium set ups and he actually designs some of the decor. Can't keep any aquarium plants alive tho

Mike

loves the smell of cashmere and just collects candles in general

I've mentioned picnics with him before (the ones he takes with Bev and Eddie) but he also likes to make little finger sandwiches and wears fancy sun hats on said picnics

hates the taste of olives, my man is anti olives

bringing this up again, but he had a stuff tigger as a kid and when he's an adult he keeps it in a shadow box

also he's a bit of a technophobe, he had a flip phone until the Losers literally made him upgrade, it was difficult for group texts

Eddie

red shorts this, red shorts that, consider him wearing overalls! He has a whole collection for every kind of weather and they're adorble

not much of a gamer but went through a really intense minecraft stage, the other losers refused to play with him

he loves traveling. Sonia never allowed him to go anywhere so as an adult he goes everywhere. Constantly taking trips and planning the next place to explore. Also he tries to travel with the Losers if they're going somewhere for work. Richie to L.A., Bill to London, Bev to Italy for fashion shows

secret huge ya novels nerd (don't tell Bill)

he's really into fancy coffee. Has an espresso machine in the kitchen and tries to make little designs in the foam and is constantly watching aesthetic coffee videos

Richie

pretends to like horror movies but is actually baby, he covers his eyes the whole time

He owned a ferret, his name was Todd. Eddie and Stan pretended to hate it but the creature grew on them

allergic to cats, cue the ferret, his skin will break out in hives if he's near one, but he doesn't care. He will pet that cat and the others Losers have to stop him

LOVES Futurama, he has a tattoo of Bender on his ass

Actually enjoys doing yard work. His mind is constantly going but when he's doing yard work, running the weed wacker or the lawn mowers, he can't hear himself think. Or if he's raking leaves or cutting bushes, his mind is too zeroed in on his task. It's strangely therapeutic for him

Bill

constantly has ink on his hands, from drawing or his typewriter, it's always there

had adult braces, IK I've said this before but I'm very passionate about 20 year old something Bill with a full set of braces. Yes I had adult braces too, why do you ask?

Sticks his tongue out when he's really focused on something and gets a wrinkle between his brows

he is dumbest smart person you will ever meet. He is an idiot. Everyone thinks he's supposed to be smart bc he's a best selling author but no, this man will try to pry something open with a knife with his face too close to said knife. He has no self preservation instincts, it's only bc of the Losers he's made it this far

has a weird obsession with Cherry Coke

Bev

again, i've said this before, but Bev always wanted a pet and she can't give the emotional care a cat, dog, rat, ect needs so she keeps reptiles. They're really cool and besides their basic care, they don't need anything else from Bev, they're perfectly content to be watched by her on the other side of the tank

speaking of that, her favorite reptile are geckos and she's actually based a couple her designs on their patterns

went through a phase where all she did was play the Sims. She was obsessed. The losers would go to bed while she was playing and wake up and she was still playing it. Yes this overlapped with Eddie's minecraft phase.

believes in Bigfoot. Like for real.

complete roller coaster fanatic, loves going to amusement parks to ride the most extreme roller coasters

Stan

has a deep passion for the Law & Order shows, they're his guilty pleasures

had a mental breakdown in his twenties and dyed his hair blue. The others losers where surprised and yes Stan regretted it. It was Impossible to get out and he basically just had to grow it out

believe it or not he is a horrible driver. He insists he's a great driver but the other losers refuse to ride with him. He doesn't get it. It's not like he's hit multiple curbs and gets massive road rage

he is constantly cold, over half the sweaters in the house belong to him and he's always under the blanket when watching tv. His cuddles are rare but during winter with no hesitation he will snuggle up under the human space heaters (Richie, Ben, and Mike)

he gardens! Has a rose garden out front with a bird bath and feeder. hates dirt though so when he's out there he has gloves and a little garden apron on

I have more too

#I JUST HAD TO PUT THEM SOMEWHERE #they're things that live in my head about the Losers #it 2017 #it 2019 #bill denbrough #stanley uris #richie tozier #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #eddie kaspbrack #poly losers club #poly losers headcanons #polylosers

69 notes · View notes

qvrcll · 2 years

Text

hard hitter / slow kisser - Ellie Williams

-> synopsis: In which Ellie wishes things were different.

-> warnings: female ! reader, not fully nsfw but fondling is taken part in, b00bs are mentioned, FLUFF despite the synopsis, angst / comfort (minimal angst), mentions of explicit themes (ripping heart out, picking at skin), compulsions, slight obsession, religious imagery.

-> a/n: okay so i admit, this was kinda rushed but when i write for ellie, the words just flow with no stop. corny as hell but writing for her is just so delightful. i wanted to freeform a little and start writing differently but i love my adjectives and comparisons :P also wanted to go full nsfw but my heart is where fluff is <3

-> wc ~ 2.8K (kinda shorter, sorry)

Ellie doesn’t dream often.

She is a little bastardised in the way she takes in day dreams now, because they all remain fragments of blather she would very much like to abandon — she was certainly not the fifteen year old girl who stumbled amongst incoherent levels of moss and silver fish, mites all the same, to remain on the same altitude of the girl she once was, though she’d love to, to be frank. In her books, and her enemies and peers all the like, she was a monster. A liquidator. A crosshair between a butcher and diabolic salvation itself.

But that all comes down to how cheap she feels with her mercy on certain days; Jesse hands her a drink, free of charge, with just the remuneration of banter to commiserate the inky silences, and she has no qualms about it, really. She would drink, laugh, dance, kick, and asseverate that she was just a girl. But on days where her patience ran as thin as a line and framed herself along a thin wall with nothing but tailored tomahawks, pistols and penstocks to make up for all the time she has wasted not being a pharaonic machine, she would thrash, scream, hack and saw, swearing that it was just in her kindness to kill.

Blood.

Grime.

Sweat.

Puke.

It’s in her nature to be grim, to be the picker of cold meat, to be the irascible contour of death itself — even when she doesn’t like it. She wants to move about, she wants to plant the seeds of her amicable fortune to let grow for whatever time stood between her and delectation itself — and she knows she’s using big words, but it’s what she deserves, no? Something big, grand, something to blow her off her heels and toes, when the red on her hands feel too real.

Because that’s what it doubles back into.

She can feel the heat on her palm, can barely register that her eyes augment into psychedelic halos of never-ending zip wire: she is the cat but she is also the mouse. She is the forest and she is the tinder licking it to embers. She is the knife but, in direct proportion to just how debauched she just thinks she is, she is the carcass — she is what she kills.

She wishes it was different.

She wishes everything was less… cruel.

She wishes she can give you more than what she can offer, or more than what she can even begin to think to offer.

And you feel it hanging in the air in tightfisted stares she throws your way — it’s not irritation because she rubs her hands against the wiriness of her jeans, and she’s wide eyed. She’s shaking. And she is all but the pharaonic machine you’ve seen on harder days.

“Hey…”, she begins and you can’t tell if it’s you who is discredited by the rasp in her voice, or Ellie herself, but you’re soon reminded she’s the one shaking. She quickly corrects the shortcoming in her tone, and you start to, selfishly, miss it, “You busy?”.

You shake your head, because it’s all you can do. You, in all your respects and genuine annoying-ness, are an enforcer for greetings. In any form. An enabler. No one was a talker unless you were, back at camp, and when you did double the work with stable duty familiars, an affinity grew and soon, conviction did too. But now, with a cloth slotted awkwardly in your mouth and sweat sequinned along your chin in a way that made you seem effectual, for all your honour, it was hard to regard her in a way she learnt. From you. Around you.

Still, you’re stubborn. Crotchety. Petulant in a way that stung in the aftermath of it all, and if you couldn’t have a way you were familiar with, you would imbibe a way to etch your habits into your skin like blackwork.

“Heh Eys, nawt rhelly—“, you gabble against the soapy skin of the fabric, highly uncomfortable and effortless in a lowborn way, a plebeian. But Ellie wouldn’t begin to understand the adversity of your kindness against you if it just meant a polite wave towards her — she is made of crystal and mounted on kindling so chippy, a glance would score you a splinter. She’s Neptune, you’re blades of grass. She’s thunder, you’re shelter. She’s Ellie, and you’re everything she’s not. She wants that. To protect that. But she feels confused, dazed, and most of all, nice. To you. Now. She smiles, misguided in her attempt to slouch against the wall, which just ends in seeming like she’s trying too hard, but you don’t mind. You like her.

“What are you up to?”, her fingers splay against the soft of her jumper and you crawl against the arm of the couch to get a better look, of the tools, of the creation bending in your arms, of her.

You cling to the mellow part of the furniture, partly because Jacksonville froze you half to death here and there and partly because, from this angle, she looked heavenly. Though, you suppose, whatever angle she took, she still shines like foamy brine spat from the mouth of Aphrodite herself, “Shurprize”, you slur.

Ironically, she’s not surprised. Or doesn’t make herself to be. Ellie is a hard person to read, with intentions so murky and a hereafter even sootier, it’s harder. She’s hard to look through. If you’re a piece of see-through plastic, she’s a brick wall. But around you, she spares holes in the same wall for you to peer, because when you focus on the girl, she’s turning this way and that way the next, crossing across this hard, tuning in to you that way, so softly. And to make her break, you tear your plastic cover, nominally, to show skin.

“For yew”, and she’s surprised, because she bends forward to eat at your given curiosity — or to get a glance of the gift but you shoo her away, but not really, because you want her close. A tricky thing, you were. But she’s the fish and she is, funnily, the bait. And when you push, she pulls, drags, until there is only enough space to whisper — the couch gives way and she has netted a place on the bump of the it, and her upper half completely lays parallel to where you’re seated, criss-cross. Her lower half lays on the other side of the bump, almost lifelessly limp.

Fucking close, she thinks.

Holy shit, you harmonize.

“ELLIE!”, you throw the gift under overlays of rusty garments, old newspapers, day old cut-outs of magazines and Ellie cannot begin to make it out — but she never intended to. Instead, she’s too busy, too entailed in utopia to be taking your face in one at a time, because she’s right in front of it. And if she can’t be selfish, what can she be?

“Ellie”, a bit of you runs cold, when the space is so abysmally small that pulling away seems criminal. Looking away seems depraved. Leaving seems erring in an itchy distraction sort of way. And you are a good citizen, and you tend to abide by her laws, “What are we doing, Ellie?”.

“Something”, she’s closer, in some way.

“Something what?”

“Something we won’t… regret… hopefully…”, closer.

“Am I supposed to know what this ‘something’ is?”

“Oh, I think you know all about it”, upheaval. Silence. Hesitation. Inadequate idiots being ingested by douceur. Pieces in a puzzle laying torpid. Candy. Amber. Stock-still embarrassment means nothing if you don’t want it to, you think, but it turns to deaf ears when she’s impossibly closer and you are too and—

One second blurs into the next, flickers of time, and you can’t figure who swore against hesitation first, who decided she’s taking too long. Because you’re in a state of panic, as you are in a state of tranquility, intermingled as one, divided as two and still, you feel at your heart when her mouth tastes like bullion, zesty salt water on her lips, and you pray, Oh Aphrodite, don’t let me die now. Your heartless litanies are a pedestal for her to creep just more, closer to you, harden her mouth and bite more of what’s given; she licks your teeth, she teases your tongue, she ripples you with embarrassment. With inquisition. With thoughts of how on God’s good earth is she able to do this?

But there’s no room for these inquiries. There is no room for rogations. There is no room for embarrassment; she’s chewn me whole, you think. Pollute your mind with her. Try to think of her with your eyes closed when she mutilates your lips with demoralised desire, that she’s kept herself from, for so long — not that it’s any different for you, but there is nothing other than a screeching howl of her name in your brain.

“Ellie— Ellie, wait”, you choose to breathe, or croak? Or force shit out of your throat, because either way, you have her attention. Ellie looks at her creation, or rather, the editings of you in a play of more push, less pull. Bruised lips, cuttings of her greed on you. You know she’s drunk on you, your lips, barely processing the words out for hearing. You’re her crutch, when you balance her, lay her flat across the length of the couch and she’s painfully biddable, hushed into a silence — a minute ago, she was the artist and you, her clay, but right now, you’ve got the pestle.

“Don’t move”, you warn her, leching over her to further input the extent of your words — to make her feel more than what she lets on because, in short, you know she has a borne shapeliness on her side and it makes you stagger but not any less mechanical, though slightly apprehensive, but delirious. Push but still, pull, because this is your Ellie.

You don’t want mistakes.

You don’t want do-overs.

You don’t want crosses across your sky.

You want her.

You want the ground beneath her.

You want her skin, her sweat, her spit.

You want Ellie.

Ellie is full of hate. Ellie is full of love. And somewhere in the middle, convoluted and awkward and loud and incessant, with bits poking out, with ridges unkempt, with door handles shaking, there’s… you. You’re almost a deep-seated instinct in her, a set of cartilage she cannot break, and even if she does, she knows you will feel it. Feel the pain, the suffering, the deluge, the blight. And Ellie, in her vigour, her hate, her love, her ‘you’, her everything, won’t allow that. And if she does, it’s insanity, because she lays a padded thumb on your cheek, shaping stag circles one by one, until you’re seated directly on top of her. From here, she can see your lips lightly varicose and she melts in her pants.

“What’s wrong angel?”, she pouts, because she cannot smile, and she certainly cannot commiserate it with a friendly shove — this is real, you’re real. This is not an allegory for schizophrenic delusions to want to know how you taste, how you feel, how you look pliant under her, or over. This is the fruit of her heart, the skin of lust. This is real.

“Something stupid”, you say, laying two flat palms on either sides of her chest, directly below her chest, so she’s distracted by the perpetual itch of your fingers just millimetres from her breats — and, of course, it’s not where she needs you most. Her cunt doesn’t even flurry as much as her heart dares to rip right out to lather you in a crude chroma of her, but she will take you anyway. Anyhow. In any shape or form. But Ellie, strong and well, Ellie, has half her mind to know that something is wrong. Something is out of place, like a wire out of a circuit, and she feels helpless in the way you cup her ruthlessly through the fabric of her clothing, which bunches up in a not-so-delicious curve and hitch, wrinkles kissing every bit of it — she’s deluded and she doesn’t care. She wants you, she wants to feel you, your worries. She wants to eat them, swallow them whole and spit them back out or digest and cage them, where they won’t torment you again. So you won’t look so dettered, unmannered. Like you’re second guessing. Like you are stepping in territory you can’t claim and she flings her head to the side, half in pain at the possibility and half in twisted pleasure as you manipulate her hurt nipples through the dedevilling.

You’re her Eve.

She ought to be Adam.

But she’s scared she’s the snake.

“Ellie, please move your hands”, you half moan, half reprimand, as Ellie curves her torso into the cruel plush of the couch, incoherent and dumb. A docile lamb: a lamb that moves — or rather, throws, her hands above her head, where you cannot see them. For the better, you huff, threading her impatiently. Like a masterpiece, out for only you to see. You’re redefining her, giving her new meaning, rechristening her as a part of you so she will remember as she goes, even if you lose, because really, you don’t want to lose. Slowly, you inch a hand up her top, surprised to feel cool stone for skin, apart from the callousness of her fingers that prod and poke at your flesh on normal days. You can barely see them now. You slither on.

“Oh—Oh, fuck”, she cries, unbecoming of the proclaimed machinery she swears her innards have been replaced for, hardwear blathering into rounds of mush, not only was she melting from the outside, but from the inside, as your hands paint her chest, almost pleasing the skin but taking your hands further or lower from where she needs you — she’d almost swear you know better but you tear completely, when parts of your eyes reluctantly speak to her own, and she’s distraught. She wants to consume you whole and spit you back out with nothing, no sadness, in your head.

She pauses her clamours, chest still racketing with harsh breath. “What’s wrong? You can tell me…”, her voice urges and she slips your warm hands into hers and letting go after unruly seconds because she knows this is harder than it reads, though she assumes it’s hard either way. Her shirt just barely skidding back to her hips and suddenly, when you expect the air to clear of its past ponderosity, but it grows.

You pause briefly, checking for skin near your nails which you don’t find. You curse yourself. “I just… I don’t want this to be, you know, a one time thing…”, a melodic interlude— “I want to make you feel good. But I want you to remember me”.

There’s another suspension of thick silence, and you focus your attention to your toes— no skin here, none there, nothing anywhere. You want to settle for anything, to make her understand. Want yourself to understand, in order to understand her — but it’s static and you can’t bear it, thinking of just burying your fingers in your mouth and skin yourself completely.

“You—“, Ellie desists, and scrambles closer to you, and then away in fear when the look on your face misreads for disgust, words painted in your eyes that scream, in her mechanised brain, go away. But you pull her closer and she understands. Her mind—that has known so much fury, so much blood, so many shades of faces she cannot remember melding into one singular countenance: regret. But when she holds your hand, distracts you from your skin, your nails, she feels a lock of balminess, a sign of life. It’s so different to the hands she’s known since forever — her own — but she welcomes the warmth, “I also don’t want you to just be a memory”.

It doesn’t come to stun you but you can’t help but still lift your head, awaiting a response and getting it in the fullest forms of breath you have left for her — reciprocation.

She holds your stare.

She recounts your breath.

She wishes to three for you to react and then—

She feels the stick of something in her palm — and by the time she opens her eyes, the glint of metal is mechanical in the way she wrenched the little gift, the locket, open: a picture of you and her, guarded by trees and smiles just as bright, though the colours have faded. Then,

“We’re fucking stupid, you know that?”, you gleam so bright, so hard.

I want to kiss her again, she dreams.

#ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #tlou 2 #tlou x reader #tlou fic #the last of us two #ellie williams fic #ellie fic #bam writes #need a woman like her now #lesbian

190 notes · View notes

hannibalzero · 2 months

Text

Loving Arthur

Charthur dabble

🦌🦬🦌🦬

Arthur was capable, Charles didn't have to worry much about his safety.

……most of the time.

Especially now that the gang has settled a bit, Hosea’s snake oil turned out to be very good whiskey.

True Dutch and Micha where still plotting something. But not having Arthur work the jobs for them and do all the leg work?

Those plans seemed to fizzle out like old cigarettes embers.

Arthur was strong, smart (despite what he would say) and was so damn quick with a gun.

Charles knew the love of his life would survive.

But the sight of Charles's beloved mate tanning the hide of a jaguar, hit a nerve.

Normally Charles wouldn't mind Arthur hunting big game, it was impressive. From a poor hunter to a master class one Arthurs skills had grown.

But Arthur was pregnant. Hardly a month or so, Kieran oddly had a skill when it came to babies? Like he knew Arthur was pregnant before Arthur did.

He had told Charles he was going fishing just down the way. Told Charles he would be safe and not to worry. Judging by the hanging corpse of a jaguar that's not what happened.

“Arthur.” Charles walked over to him, crossing his arms over his chest.

The outlaw jumped a bit holding the fleshing knife still. “Howdy Charles, how was ya-” Arthur's voice slowly died in his throat receiving a pointed look from his Alpha. “I…um…can explain?”

“I would love to hear it, how did you catch a jaguar while fishing?” Charles asked keeping his voice quiet and even.

Innocent until proven guilty and all that.

“I promise ya I was fishing, pretty bluegill just down the way. I was sitting down, drinking all that water ya asked me too and even ate.” he offered up. “I was packing my basket of fish to go, looked up and there it was. A whole jaguar!” Arthur shifted as told his story. “Started running for me, I was able to shoot it before it got too close.”

Charles looked at Arthur and slowly looked at the big cat. He covered his eyes and gave a low grown. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

“Naw, didn't even touch me.” Arthur rested his thumbs in his (much loser) gunbelt. “I'mma sorry, I didn't think-”

“It's fine Arthur. I'm glad you're okay, baby okay too?” Charles asked.

Arthur nodded slowly. “Yeah, had Mrs.Grimshaw check…baby is fine.”

“What am I going to do with you, crazy white boy? Strange things happen to you.” Charles pulled Arthur close and kissed him. “…..now…the pelt is beautiful…what are you planning on doing with it?” he asked resting his arm over Arthurs shoulder.

“Aw hell, i dont know. I'm still shocked you wanna be around me. Maybe keep me on a leash?” Arthur joked into the kiss. “Oh the pelt? I was thinking…i don't think I could use a stroller for the baby. I need to work and I ain't gonna dump our baby on people…was thinking of a backboard? Big enough for you and me to be able ta wear.”

Charles nodded thinking it over. “I get what you mean about strollers, I've only seen them in places with streets. Bulky and metal.” he looked at the pelt. “A backboard is a good idea, I'm not sure how to make one…”

“Figured next time we visit Eagle flys and Rainfalls we would ask?” Arthur suggested. “Being the best leather and hide we got?”

“I would like that.” Charles gave a nod. “But if you get attacked by another Jaguar, I think I'll die.”

“Oh no you ain't! Ya gotta stick around with me. Can't die until I do.”

Charles laughed loudly. “Love you too.”

#rdr2 #charthur #ficlet #dabble #tw mpreg #just cute #charles smith #arthur morgan #omegaverse

17 notes · View notes

persephonescottage · 1 year

Text

PONY | 24.

Pairing: Billy RussoxFem!Reader

Summary: It’s all coming back to you now.

Warning: References to sexual situations, swearing, obsessive thoughts. Although this chapter might not include it, this fic will include stalking, somnophilia, CNC (between two consenting adults), knife play, age gap, dub con, Stockholm syndrome, gaslighting and other triggers I will include as we go along, please only read if you’re 18+. If any of this warnings trigger you please don’t read.

A/N: We did it! Pony’s last chapter is finally here! I’ve planned this story line for so long and now that I finally got to the big reveal it was so hard to write. I hope you still like it.

Thank you to everybody that read this story, even with the whole BB situation, I realized Billy and Pony are my babies and I’m so grateful you all accepted them the way you did (even Henry!). Anyways, enjoy and don’t hate me too much lol.

You wake up to a dozen messages from Gianna that morning, your phone vibrating next to you on your messy bed. You recognize the way the sun hits the walls on your home but how did you end up here?

Your head is pounding when you let your forearms lift your heavy body up from the bed and then you look around.

It’s complete trashed.

All your clothes are on the floor, the drawers on your vanity out and with things dragging from them, broken perfume bottles on the floor, the lamp on your bedside table tipped over the side of your mattress.

“Billy?” You call out innocently, as if you don’t know he must be behind this.

There is nothing but the silence that comes in between your phone vibration between Gianna’s upset phone calls.

“You’re alive!” She says dramatically when you finally answer “You scared me to death you bitch! Where the fuck are you?”

You force yourself to blink away the slumber on your eyes when she keeps her rambling going.

You yawn.

“Home.”

“We looked for you all night and there you were sleeping peacefully?”

“Who’s we?” You’re surprised you can speak with the dizziness in your head as you look down to examine the white dress you’re wearing. It’s got ribbon bows on the puff sleeves and lace on the short hem of the skirt and you don’t want to admit it but it looks a lot like Christine Daee’s sleeping gown.

“What do you mean who’s we? Henry of course!”

Of course, you curse.

“He told me you had left with Mr. Russo for some sort of interview, I thought maybe Mrs. Baker made you do it since you didn’t have a task for the night but Henry waited until midnight to mention the Blackbird thing.”

Oh.

Right.

You’ve told him.

“It’s him isn’t he? Mr. Russo is Blackbird.”

“What time is it Gianna?”

“Answer me, I spent the entire evening distracting Henry so he wouldn’t ruin your night. Do you know how hard it was to not freak out in front of him because Billy Russo is your stalker? I deserve details.”

She was right, she totally did.

“Where’s Henry now?”

“He left a few hours ago, he went to Brooklyn looking for you.”

“And you let him go?”

“You caught a bigger fish we don’t need him anymore.” She laughed. “So he never made it there?”

“I hope he didn’t” you sigh thinking of what might’ve happened if Henry arrived when Blackbird was still in your apartment “Look, I don’t know what happened last night but my apartment is all messed up.”

“That must have been one good fuck.”

“No Gigi, Billy Russo isn’t here.” You say quickly “I think he’s the one that destroyed everything.”

“I think it’s time you two stop playing cat and mouse babe.” He tone is finally serious and you know what she means.

“Meet me outside of Anvil?” Your voice pleads and she accepts immediately.

Gianna is a good friend.

You passed ANVIL a few times before, the intimidating black building making your stomach swirl the last time when you tried to set up an appointment with billy Russo to discuss your stalker.

Naive girl.

Of course he had refused.

But walking inside the building was different, busy people running around, phones ringing and the smell of wood coming from the office’s floors where overwhelming while you sat in the waiting room of his office.

“Hey kids!” Frank’s intimidating voice is oxymoronic with how cheerful his tone is when he walks out of the CEO’s office and you try your best smile.

“Mr. Castle, we’re here to see Mr. Russo.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible kiddo. Bill is out of the country.”

“What? How? He was at the gala last night.” Your voice is accusatory and Gianna gives you a look to settle down.

You were usually the one giving her that look.

“Yeah he got here early for a quick work out before catching his jet. But I can help you out if you need anything, is everything okay with the library’s donation?”

A work out?

A workout!

He had time to work out between drugging you and destroying your home?

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” You try your best to hide your anger from Frank but the way his sight bounces between you and Gianna tells you you’re not doing a great job.

“He won’t be back for a couple months.”

You know Frank and Gianna are there because you’re awake and the oakwood smell is still filling your nostrils but their voices sound underwater while you stare at the office door that reads Russo’s name on a plaque.

Gianna explains to Frank your home’s situation and you feel your body weaken.

He left.

Without you.

All you had to do is love me, he said.

Bullshit!

You can vaguely hear Frank offer to go back home with you, investigate and set up a security device. He should’ve done that a long time ago, you think, but you kindly refuse his offer, grabbing Gianna’s hand to leave as you tell him it’ll be fine.

You’ll call him if anything comes up.

But Frank can see right though you and he looks at your friend for approval. You must sound crazy, but you can’t wait to leave the building and break down crying.

After walking back to Brooklyn in a zombie like state, you assure your friend you’ll be fine. All you need is a shower you say, but she promises she’ll run home and come back to sleepover.

You wish she wouldn’t so you could freely get drunk and pathetically sob over Billy Russo, but you weakly nod watching her leave the apartment before you finally jump in the shower.

Tipping your head back you let the warm water wet your hair as you close your eyes, hoping the heat will relax the tension on your shoulders. Your skin was still cold from the subway and the sudden temperature change hurt slightly.

He left.

He just left you here.

You didn’t know when he’d come back or if he’d come back for you at all.

Turning around you plant your palms on the old yellow tiles of the shower wall, watching the water drop from your hair to your body and go away in the drain.

Your stomach hurts.

He had you fooled all this time, you believed him, you believed all of it and now you were alone.

You were always alone in the end.

And not only that, but he had ruined you for everyone else, if Billy wasn’t in the picture and Henry had asked you out maybe you would have said yes.

You could have been Mrs. Big Check.

But then again if this had never happened, the stalking, the cupcakes, the walkie talkie; if Billy had come to Loretta’s one night and ordered a coffee and sat on a booth and talked to you, you would’ve liked him.

You would’ve really liked him.

Was sex all that he wanted from you?

He went through all that trouble just to fuck you and then leave?

You would’ve fucked him the first night you saw him if he had asked nicely.

You squeeze your eyes shut tighter and try to remember the night before, the clean smell of his skin, his heated touch, the feeling of his tongue on the side of your neck.

Your throat sweeps like you’re talking a gulp of water and you swallow, disappointed that nothing is there, you lick your lips and your breathing becomes hard as your clit starts to throb.

He said all you had to do was love him.

And you did.

Your soapy hand falls down your neck, gliding over your collar bone and washes down to your breasts, gracing over your stomach as you lean on the wall and slide it between your legs, biting your lips at the touch of your own fingertips working slowly.

“No” you whisper to yourself, opening your eyes. “Stop, stop, stop…”

You want to force him out of your head, he doesn’t deserve you touching yourself over him but it’s inevitable how you crave his hands on your body, his lips over your ear, the way he buries his hand on your neck, hiding the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You imagine him whispering the words he whispered to you before, his husky voice engraved on your memories.

Oh baby.

Fuck, fuck fuck.

You feel so good.

The praises he would chant to you comes back once again and you rub yourself harder. Faster. Chasing the way he made you feel as you press your cheek to the cold shower wall.

It’s just a quick release that you need, you tell yourself, he’ll never know.

You come, the euphoria of it making you cry out in silence so that the paper thin walls of your apartment won’t announce your orgasm to your neighbors and then you collapse sliding your body against the wall, your knees weak.

Squeezing your eyes shut you sit under the water until the feeling goes away completely, leaving you light headed and a flood of emotions surrounds you.

You want to cry.

What the hell is wrong with you?

Why would you do that?

You’re confused and stressed because a man gave you creepy attention for months and then disappeared after you let him fuck you. He promised he’d make all your dreams come true and abandoned you.

Billy made you believe in something you knew wasn’t real, he made fun of Henry’s privilege when he had it himself but the worse part was that he made you loose focus of your future, he almost got you but he’s not special.

You are.

Remember that.

You’ll never see him again.

Ever.

Climbing out of the shower, you wrap yourself on a fluffy lilac towel and make your way to the bedroom, the scent of your detergent making you feel so small, you drag your feet there defeated as you avoid the broken items on the floor.

You’d clean tomorrow, you need a nap, you tell yourself with the heavy feeling of your eyelids leaving your body completely as you see it.

A cupcake on your bed, the familiar pink pastry box on top of the messed up blankets and you stop breathing, the white glittery frosting shines under the soft light of your lamp now sitting right on the table and you know it’s modeled after your ball gown.

There’s a black envelope next to it and your hand trembles as you take it in your hands.

‘I know you killed your fiancé.’ -B.

The dark ink inside reads and you panic.

That’s impossible.

How can he know that?

Gone is the flowery smell of your towel suddenly replaced by the scent of Barret’s fresh blood covering your hands as you clean your old apartment, when you talked to the police faking your widow tears and telling them about his drinking problem.

Screaming when you said he had killed himself to the emergency operator.

How you had found him with a gun on his hands in your dinning room, the poppy wall paper behind him sprayed in crimson red.

Lies.

You were a liar.

No one was supposed to know, you worked hard for this, you were supposed to go to Greece, change your name, start over and Billy Russo wasn’t about to take that away from you.

You drop the towel as you frantically gather your things around the trashed up place. The desperation not letting you hear the cracking on the old floors as someone creeps behind you.

Your passport is gone, and so is your backup money, you realize kneeling naked on the floor after opening the loose light socket you use as a safe.

No, no, no.

This can’t be happening.

But you’ve got worse problems now when a hand forces a piece of wool over your mouth and nose as you struggle hopelessly to break free from his forceful touch.

Someone knew now that you’re a killer and his loving hand rests on your sleepy body now as he lifts you over his shoulder with the room spinning before it goes completely dark.

“Let’s go home Pony.” You hear him say at last.

#Pony fic #billy russo x reader #billy russo #stalker!billy #billy russo fanfic #justice for henry #my writting

58 notes · View notes

googoobabajogwick · 1 year

Text

Hot knife chpt:2

description: the day had finally came.

triggers: talks of violence against women, mentions of smut but not graphic, unhealthy coping mechanisms and unhealthy relationships, a break up.. reader is still unhinged...

word count: 6.8k

mini authors note: lol surprise ! things wont always be this fast...

<---->

Hot Knife Chapter Two: Watch Him Rain on My Parade

Well his promise lasted for longer than you thought.

Sixteen years to be exact.

You couldn't lie, it was the best time of your life. Living with your soulmate felt like living in paradise. It was a very messy break up. Of course you had tried several times to hurt him, destroy his cars, houses, steal his money, everything. Although you weren’t married you made his life a living hell for the first year after breaking up.

It hurt, really bad. You did not like being hurt. Thoughts of marriage, real marriage, were running through your head. The two of you had best decided that since your lifestyles were so much different than the average civilians you both just ended up giving each other your own marker. That was the closest thing to marriage you were going to get. Plus it was so much more intimate, a blood oath.

Yet when you were with him, you still thought about rings, would you take his last name or would he take yours? You’d ask him, never one to shy away from what you were thinking and he’d entertain them like he’d always had but that’s all it was, entertaining. Then it happened. What was just a small scratch on your brain became a full on obsession.

It was on your mind all the time. Spending holidays together, neither of you ever waking up to an empty bed to complete a private contract, a dog and a cat. You imagined a small little cabin in the woods, you with your best friend, your boyfriend maybe even someday husband in solitaire. Hunting, fishing, gardening, sitting by the fire at night…

That was your life before and you wanted to bring him to that life. You knew he’d do well because if he loved you then he’d have to love the outdoors but you also knew that he was a man who loved the quiet life and to be alone. The obsession grew and grew to the point you were so sure even he’d want to follow you.

The two of you were filthy rich at this point.. What if you just did it? Then you could actually have a life together. It was funny at first because you were the crazy one. You loved taking hits and leaving there bloodier than you entered, why would you ever want to leave this job? But your Jardani or should you now say John, was in his prime and living out the fame of being the most feared man on earth.

You scoffed at the name John Wick. You knew he said he made that his name due to a rough translation/ homage to his real name, but it was quite funny the name he used to instill fear in peoples minds, was the same name you used to degrade him during sex. You still could remember the first time you brought up leaving and when you left like it was yesterday.

Laughing, you straddled John— who was back in his boxers after a good couple rounds of sex— as he now prefered to be called. The two of you were horndogs and that never went away the entire sixteen years you were together. You were wearing his U.S. Marines shirt from his service time many years ago. It was your favorite, big and comfortable.

You had just gotten back from cleaning yourself up in the bathroom. He had scolded you for calling him Jardani. It was John now, John Wick officially. Though he’d never care if you continued to call him by his real name. Especially when it sounded so sweet coming from your lips.

Things had been tense but like always, he made everything better. He knew what to say every time or should you say, he always knew what to do. How to make you feel loved. You gave him a slight smack for his comment while you were in the bathroom.

“I just still can’t get over it, Jonathan Wick? Like John Wick?” You laughed, “I’m going to feel like I’m domming you every time I address you.” He laughed.

“I wouldn’t call it “domming” me, more like, me worshiping the woman I love by letting her have her way?” John was not a man who was dominated.

“Fine but I know your dirty little secret.” You smiled.

Before you could say anything else he pulled you down so your head was on his shoulder. His cue for ‘no more talking.’ The two of you laid there cuddling, with you on top of him for what felt like hours before you just couldn’t get the idea out of your head. You tried to push it away but it wasn’t working. Deciding to trust communication once again you asked,

“Dani, what if we left? You change your name to John Wick— or something else, I change mine and we just go live together somewhere in the woods? I think you’d do well out there.”

You’d opened up to John about how you grew up in the woods, before you were orphaned, your parents killed by cops. Hunting was in your blood and you also craved isolation. Being off the grid sounded nice. You really were all over the place. A girl who everyone thought was attractive, confident, smart, every aspect that would lead to someone being extroverted but instead you were blunt, quiet and you often disliked conversation.

The cover didn’t not match the book.

Even when John met you all those years ago at twelve when he met you with The Director. There was something dark and cold about you that made her sure you’d be a good team. You’d marched right up to him and ordered him to go get you a glass of water from wherever was closest and when he refused you called him swine and spit on his face. He couldn’t lie, although he really wanted to punch you across the face, you were cute.

How far you two came was crazy. You were hopeful but a lot of that hope went down the drain when you saw his face. It was something between a, ‘you can't be serious.’ And a, ‘You’ve got to be joking.’ You felt like you were going to puke, which you had done the day before. The idea of leaving plagued your mind and the nerves got to you.

Nervous thoughts that you’d make yourself out to be the idiot you were scared of becoming all those years ago. Perhaps you were as stupid as you were afraid you were going to get. Your heart started to race and you wanted to be anywhere but in front of him.

You stood up and pulled up your pants without even looking at him. It was starting, all the hurt you knew was eventually going to happen had caught up. John was confused, grabbing for his shirt while calling your name. You glared at him and were so furious you almost hit him. It didn’t take a lot to get you angry, but angry enough to want to hit him was a lot.

“Woah! What are you doing?” He asked.

“You take me for a fool you asshole. Well, you genius, I do want to get out. I’m done with this shit. You have days to decide, I’m doing a couple hits and I’m gone. Ghost.” You sneered at him.

The two of you had already been arguing a lot lately and it didn’t help that you could go from zero to one hundred real quick. He was always taking contracts but the long ones and the big ones. The ones that took weeks to months, ones where he’d come home bleeding a life threatening amount. Jardani no doubt was a natural, you were too but you preferred to be fastidious with the hits you’d take.

It was like when you both started dating the two of you switched personalities. You became more open with him and he got harder to talk to. Either choosing to not talk at all or acting like everything was fine. Then he joined the Marines and you would miss him for months, he'd come back and accept some contracts. That’s not to say you didn’t spend any time together but he was always gone.

Always promising that he’d take you on vacation only to call the day before your flight and tell you that he had to stay a couple more days. It was a cycle. John would come home, you’d be sobbing, he’d stand there in silence, making you feel like you were going insane, as you yelled at him, the two of you would sleep in separate rooms until he’d apologize. Then the two of you would have sex and everything would be right in the world again.

Till the next time and there was always a next time. All you wanted was to spend time with him and to be with him. His solution? Take more hits together. You almost smacked him. Why in the world would you want to go out and risk your life assassinating someone— or more like some people because a hit designed for two people wasn’t small— when cuddling, eating and sex were on your mind?

“I think we should talk about this.” Jardani grabbed your wrist and you ripped it away.

He looked shocked but was glad you didn’t smack him across the face like you would every time he’d touch you when you didn’t want to be touched. This was normal as of late but you never acted so upset over words that weren’t even said!

You glared at him while running around the apartment to find a to go bag so you could stay at The Continental for two days while you prepared your leave. John was playing stupid, at least that’s what you told yourself. Your eyes burned but you held the tears back.

“No. I want a yes or no. Two days.” You grabbed your bag and left.

Physically leaving was going to be easy as you had made a friend named Algo. Algo was short for Algorithm. She was a woman you met through a friend’s friend. She needed help with an abusive boyfriend, so you helped her. Algo happened to be an amazing hacker, so much so she had helped you make real deal fake IDs and hack into government records.

You could never get away with living a normal life so that’s what you planned to be, a vigilante, but one that helped women who needed help. Algo would be your right hand woman. She would and could find anything you needed, she could also erase anything you needed or even hide. She’d become a good friend in the past few months you’ve known her.

You took the hits being more brutal than ever. Much more blunt force, knives stranglings and dismembering than usual. You were perfect with a gun but sometimes preferred to get dirtier, scarier.

Like John had his pencil story, due to your medical knowledge your story was that you sedated a man till he was half asleep and amputated his leg off, you told him his sons would be eating it if he didn’t fess up what you wanted to know.

Making a man watch his own amputation was a story that got around. Mad doctor they called you, Dr. Death, Angel of death (a popular one it seemed) and Hel, the Goddess of Death. Sometimes even you couldn’t understand your constant comparison to Goddesses but it certainly fed your ego. How could it not? It’s not how you wanted to live your life though.

So many missed calls from Jardani, voicemails asking you to please talk to him, texts telling you he loved you but you should think about everything. That this was so sudden and you weren’t thinking right. After that text you blocked him. How dare he. You knew he’d show up to The Continental, he already had, but Charon wouldn’t let him know what room you were in. Even for multiple gold coins.

“I’m sorry sir, she does not wish to be disturbed.” Charon’s proper and deep voice would respond every time.

John had gotten so desperate he’d hang around the hotel or even outside. Still he never saw you. The anguish got terrible to the point he was convinced you were sneaking out somehow and scared a poor maid, stopping her in her tracks to look through her cart. You weren’t there and Winston scolded him for scaring the life out of his staff. He went home, if you didn’t want him finding you, you wouldn’t be found.

You were always too good at that.

The day finally came as you sat packing your bags. John walked into your shared apartment and stared at your actions. This was the first time he’d seen you since you left. He looked at you with sadness in his eyes that you didn’t want to look at. You heard a sigh and still didn’t look up as you packed the last of your things. If you looked at him, you may change your mind.

“You were being serious?”

You were going to hit him.

“Was I being serious? Why the fuck would I lie about that? And how I just left you? Also if you haven’t noticed I’ve been pretty dry. Are you fucking stupid?” Yes, you were being rude but you also felt like he was flushing sixteen years down the drain.

“Mia dea, Why would we leave? We are invincible in this world.”

“Maybe I just want to feel normal.” You cried.

“Maybe we aren’t normal.”

You paced while biting your nails on one hand while the other rubbed your stomach. The two of you had been together so long, you loved him so much. The more you thought about it though, what if you did want kids in the future? Jardani would be the only man you’d ever let father your kids, if you were to have them. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him your whole vision. This was humiliating enough.

“We could try…” You sniffled.

Jardani sighed. Was this really the end? Being the most feared came with a lot of bombs in cars, home break ins, jumpings just when you wanted to run to the grocery store. They never learned their lesson, and you didn’t want to live that life anymore. Plus you hated working for the high table, you wanted to do your own shit.

“Are you saying no? Are we ending things right now? You felt defeated and like you were about to throw up.

“I would never want things to end, I just don’t think we should leave. Why don’t you try thinking about it more? Please.” He pleaded with you.

John walked up to you and pulled you into a hug. He kissed where your scar was, then your neck and your ear. His grip was tight and you almost wondered if he was even going to let go. Your boyfriend’s hands rubbed up and down along your hips. He pressed his forehead in the crook of your neck.

“Come on, we can talk about this.” He went on to say more but you gaged and ripped yourself away from him.

You ran into the bathroom and threw up. Without a second thought he came into the bathroom.

“Get the fuck out of here!” John took a step back at how loud you screamed.

“You just threw up. You also did a couple days before you left me, I’m worried you’re sick.” He considered kneeling by you as you threw up some more but you seemed pretty pissed.

“It happens when I’m upset, big whoop. You should know that.” Your cheek was laying on the back of your hand that gripped the seat. “That was because I was starting to think about this.” You sobbed.

After waiting for the nausea to pass you flushed, stood up and pushed past him to wash your hands and brush your teeth. You ignored him as you brushed but you looked exhausted. You dissociated in that bathroom going back and forth and back and forth with that stupid toothbrush but no matter how imaginative you were you couldn’t escape the horrible reality that you were breaking up. Tears streamed down your face like the faucet you were standing right in front of.

When you finished you turned to look at him. You cried even harder at how sad he looked. You’d never seen such desperation in his watery eyes. No matter what you thought, this crushed him. John loved you so much he was almost tempted but he couldn’t, not now and not yet. Plus it seemed impossible. Everyone usually died trying, and the few that made it, never really retire. They would kill you. Too many loose ends in a life like this.

“They will kill you… Sweetheart, please.” He wanted to hold you one more time, his skin itched to reach out and grab you.

“You seem so sure.” You snapped at him and he looked at you like you stabbed him.

“Don’t you ever accuse me of that. I never would, I love you, you’re my heart. No amount of money ever.” Jardani couldn’t even say it.

You felt a bit bad because you knew he’d never hurt you, ever. To insinuate that he would kill you, well it was the thing that made John Wick cry. If he did that he couldn’t live with himself, ever. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t never feel angry with you; just deep, painful sorrow. A couple tears dripped down his face but not many.

John was raised to conceal his emotions even more than you, to the point that even in private it was difficult for him to be open with you. You began to cry harder wanting to hold and comfort him because it was more than rare for him to cry. It could be counted on one hand the amount of times he cried in front of you and each time you were there to embrace him.

He had no idea where this was coming from. The last time you were together you went out to eat and had sex and laughed and…. Everything seemed so amazing. Still though, your mind was set. He was done with you. Your eyes flickered to your markers that were on display in your bedroom and you saw him tense.

“Please don’t.” It was a whispered plea and warning.

Don’t leave and don’t force me.

You pushed past him, out of the bathroom, walked up to it and grabbed it. Your lip trembled as you looked at it and with one sharp intake you shoved it into your pocket and turned to grab your bags. It wouldn’t work anyways, they could always be canceled out if either one of you tried to do something evil to one another.

“Well fuck you Jardani. So much for worshiping, serving and loving me.”

With that you grabbed your final suitcase, you could buy whatever you didn’t have and walked to leave. He moved to grab your arm but you screamed at him making him jump back in shock before running. It was better than punching that pretty face of his. You couldn’t stop the sob that left your throat as you made your way down the street.

“Wait! Y/N! Please let’s just talk about this!” He called out to you.

You knew he was running after you, but all you knew was that you had to get to a certain law firm that was close by that Algo had told you about. Of course this happened. Even though you were in your thirties at this point you couldn’t help but feel like that scared nineteen year old girl was laughing in your face. Tears streamed down your face as you wiped the snot from your nose as you ran.

He followed you until he lost you in the crowd of people. At the law firm was a woman who went by the name Anna. You would be safe there. The word safe made you cringe, you knew he’d never hurt you but safe as in, he would not be welcomed and you knew if you really didn’t want to see him, he would respect your wishes.

That was almost twenty years ago but you still felt hatred for the man, even though you loved him so. Your hair had started to gray and small age wrinkles had started to appear but you were still beautiful. Aging in women is a beautiful thing and you don’t doubt that but fighting definitely isn’t as easy as it used to be.

You had almost become “The Director” yourself, but a better one in your opinion. Using your skills you opened a secret sanctuary for women called The Izanami no Mikoto, suggested by one of the first members, a Japanese woman named Shizuoka. Women had a choice to join and all had been saved from sort of violence. All the pledge was that everyone was to get a tattoo that said F.W.I, standing for female-who-invites.

The goal was just to protect women, that was it. You were actually surprised the organization had gone under the radar for as long as it had been but it was hard to find you with your new nickname Kalika. It was given to you by a Hindi woman who believed you emerged from the Goddess of all Goddesses. Her story, more complicated than a simple, “good or evil?”

You always tried to push that ‘Kalika’ was everyone in the INM. Every member agreed to protect the innocent and destroy all evil. It broke your heart to know that these women put you on such a high pedestal because you chose to protect and save them. Every woman was the goddess of her own life. Plus you didn’t want to be worshiped by the same people you considered friends. You were still just an ordinary woman.

Okay, maybe not that ordinary.

Everyone close to you still called you by your real name but the little title helped keep you hidden. You did very good for yourself, you had the money and honestly helping women gave you a purpose you felt. Torturing evil men made you very happy. Yet there was one secret, a secret so big that nobody knew except the women of your sanctuary, that by the odds of everything you birthed, two, beautiful twin girls.

Only months after your disappearance and break up and you found out you were pregnant. You couldn’t believe it, children were just a mere thought, nothing you ever had planned. Multiple times you had thought to tell John, perhaps that would change his mind, but you were selfish and angry. If he only wanted to leave because you had kids you would feel like he didn’t want you, and that he’d hate you.

Instead all the women of the Izanami no Mikoto helped raise and take care of your daughters. In a way they had multiple mothers and made up so much more for the loss of a father figure, but that didn’t stop you from informing them who their father was. They just had no desire to meet him themselves. It still hurt you to know he would’ve been an amazing father.

In fact in the twenty years since your break up you had only visited him in the ten year mark. You showed up to his house, your girls were about nine when you realized there was one more thing tying you to John.

Thunder was booming in the sky as you knocked on the wooden door, your body shivered as the cold wind blew. A beautiful woman with long brown hair answered the door. Your heart was crushed at the sight but it didn’t stop the reason you were there.

“Hello, who are you?” She sounded so sweet but she looked confused and you could hear a hint of worry for you in her tone.

“Hello ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you but I’m looking for uh… Jonathan Tick?” You improvised looking down at the book and acted like you were flipping through the files in your brain for this name you knew so well.

“Well, no Tick’s live here but the Wick’s do.” She laughed

Wick’s as in more than one. They were married. It took all your willpower to not leave right then and there.

“Sorry, I knew it was something with Ick…” You faked a nervous laugh. “There’s a very important book I need restored and someone told me he could help.”

You’d heard he was into that business from Emily. A young girl who worked at an antique book shop but she never met him, just answered calls and paged him through to her boss. That’s all you wanted and needed to know. So you grabbed an old book you had lying around and used it as an excuse to talk to him.

She gave you a smile but a questioning look before calling for John. When he showed up to the door his eyes widened and he felt his heart drop to his stomach. Like it was second nature he pushed Helen behind him. You being here could either be very bad or very goo- Well, there would be no good reason for you to be here. If anything could make you feel even more sick it was that action. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

Like you were strangers. Guess ten years would do that to you.

You explained how you found him and why you were at his house— The book. Your ex-lover made an excuse and brought you down to the basement where before he could say anything, you pulled out the marker he gave you. The smile on your face was gone, you looked pissed and all you wanted to do was get out of there. For once you saw him look sick.

“I don’t want this in my box of things, so I need you to do me my favor.”

He took a deep breath, getting ready for whatever outburst could come from you after he uttered the sentence,

“I’m not in the business anymore.”

Those simple words broke your heart more than it already was.

“What?”

John for once looked uncomfortable and out of control. He stepped from one foot to the other and bit his lip. You had never seen him look so nervous and so guilty.

“I retired, for Helen.”

Ah. So Helen was her name.

The tears threaten to fall from your eyes but after all the shit you’ve been through you wouldn’t let them, well you’d try to keep it in. You bit your lip and nodded while praying them away. Once you felt you had it under control, you walked up to him and slammed the marker into his chest.

“You dishonest piece of fucking shit, you have to honor this. Don’t make me drag you back in, except the request and live your life peacefully you dumbass.” You for once were trying to be calm and not explode.

John looked like he was thinking for a bit. Did you not know The High Table put a hit out on you? Worldwide? After such a long time, you stopped being a priority for them. You couldn’t bring him back without bringing yourself back. What was scarier to him was the look in your eyes. It screamed that you didn’t care. Your ex lover almost wanted to ask you what you’d been up to but it wasn’t the time.

He sighed and grabbed the marker from your hand and stared at it. The round object reminded him of so many memories you had together. He’d hear you out. If it was doable he’d honor it but if it was too dangerous he’d decline. Knowing you though, he was scared of what your request was.

“What do you want?”

You wouldn’t even look him in the eye. As you looked around all the work in progress books and finished books that were ready to be returned to their buyers. All the framed photos of him and Helen… The tears almost started streaming. You wanted this life and you so badly wanted to tell him that you had two beautiful daughters who were about ten.

Then you turned to look at him. Your hands were in your pockets and your hood was still up. John was still as handsome as you remembered. Almost even looked as young as you could remember but you saw the age lines that were starting to appear. You whimpered at what you could’ve had but covered it up quickly by telling him the favor you needed.

“I need you to talk to Jimmy, a friend I have, Zuri, she killed her pimp and the police are after her. I need you to make sure they stop.”

“You know Jimmy you could ask him your-“ You cut him off.

“I want this fucking marker gone! I’d appreciate you letting me finish mine but I know you Jardani. You’ll wait till it’s needed. Well not me, we aren’t bound together anymore and I want this completed so you can fully be out of my life.”

Your pants were loud, you were trying to be quiet but there was no doubt Helen heard you yelling. A tear fell, after so long of keeping them in you cried. You wiped at them in a violent manner. John wanted to hug you but he knew he couldn’t. For multiple reasons.

“Please. Please just do this for me.” It came out as a whisper.

After a few moments of silence besides the sound of you sniffling he nodded. He could never say no to you. John couldn’t believe you were even standing in front of him. Ten years it had been. He honestly believed he’d never see you again. The whole moment felt so surreal.

The High Table had put a bounty on your head.

Not too big but big enough to raise the heads of a few.

Nothing ever came of it though, your name was on the list for years before it was just… Gone.

This is why he’d do it for you, he told himself. If you dragged him back in, you’d be killed. Although it had been easier pretending you were dead instead of living your life without him at first, he even believed it once your name was off the board. Deep down he always knew you weren’t. Seeing you was weird. There was no other way to put it.

As soon as he agreed you ran out of the house, you ignored even the questions coming from Helen as you ran. All you wanted was to get back to your girls. They were the only people you could say you ever loved more than John.

You could try and say you never hated Helen, to say you didn’t would be a lie. Against everything you tried to tell yourself it wasn’t her. It was an obvious fact that John had mentioned you in the past, you saw it in her eyes, but did not tell her about the deepness of your love.

Still, you couldn’t help but think, what did she have to make him leave that you didn’t? All the promises he made to you in sixteen years seemed nothing compared to the ones he made to her in five years. You didn’t want to sound like a child but it wasn’t fair.

That’s not to say life was fair to John either, a small, muffled voice yelled to you as you listened to the information your fellow women brought to you. Helen Wick was dead, from an unknown illness. Your heart broke for the woman who died. A loss of a woman was a loss to the INM, no matter the affiliation. The thing you thought about but also told yourself you couldn’t care about was how he was feeling.

That is until Algo informed you John Wick was going on a rampage and that it seemed he had one hour until he was excommunicato. Fourteen million was a lot, and that was a lot you could put towards helping your women. Your daughters, now at twenty were prepared and ready to go after him. After all, you trained them, with the help of your fellow survivors.

Still you told them no. If John had known they were his kids he’d let them chop him up in a heartbeat but since he didn’t even know of their existence they’d be just another enemy, another pair of bodies. You stayed out of it. Your organization didn’t work for the high table, you were just a vigilante organization with the cover of a women's treatment facility, which it was, the fighting and training was just behind the scenes.

To them, Kalika was another woman who just was doing what she thought was right, not the Goddess of destruction, the young girl who once trained beside Jardani Jonovoich. You thought you were safe, you thought your daughters were safe but you knew he had your marker. You’d like to believe he wouldn’t drag you into his mess but the thought scratched at the back of your head and bubbled deep within your stomach.

That feeling in your stomach was right. You don’t know how, but he found you. Well maybe you had a mini idea but you didn't even want to think about that right now. Avoidance; That was common with you. Your daughters were busy helping the workers in the treatment facility as you sat with him in your office. He looked tired but prepared for whatever war he started.

You listened to his whole story. By the end of it you were on your second shot of vodka. That was the bad habit you had, you were a big drinker and this, this was a reason to drink. Immediately you took two more and looked up at him. The buzz was strong but you weren’t drunk. He looked so tired as he let his eyes wander around the room, analyzing all your photographs.

You had two photos on your desk. John recognized the person in one of them, it was of you with Algo, he had met her a couple times. The other one piqued his interest a little more. You were with two girls who were young. He didn't think much of it as you had an abundance of photos all over your office, but this one was on your desk. John felt like he may have been hallucinating, those two girls look a lot like you…

“You fell off a fucking roof and survived?” You gave him an incredulous look.

John looked uncomfortable as he shifted his attention back to you. He shuffled in his seat. He knew you hated him and you were going to hate him even more after this, but he had an idea you already guessed why he was here. He nodded his head yes.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You just stared at him.

“Well good, you deserved it. What brainless fucker would give D’Antonio their marker? Oh wait.” A condescending chuckle left your mouth. “He’s sitting right in front of me.”

He let out an obnoxious and loud sigh. John expected you to be hostile towards him but already?

“Yeah, I get it. I've heard it before.” He snapped at you.

“Let me guess? Winston?” He could tell by the way you bit your bottom lip while grinning you already knew the answer.

Even though you were arguing and not at all happy to see him, it felt unreal that he was talking and sitting across from you, updating you on his life. It had crossed his mind more than enough times, wondering what you would think. While he was hunting down Losef, when he was forced back to kill Gianna, as he was falling off the roof… John should've known it would bring you some kind of satisfaction to see him struggling.

After all, you made it clear you hated him. How could it not be when you hacked into multiple of his bank accounts, sent multiple people after him the first month and a half, sabotaged his contracts and blew up multiple of his luxury cars. Still, it didn't go unnoticed that you left his prized mustang alone. You loved that car almost as much as he did. He shook his head yes.

“Thought so. Now get it over with where’s the marker?” You put your hand out and waited for him to place it in your palm.

Your throat felt tight when you felt the metallic disk hit your skin, the humorous mood you found yourself in seconds before, gone. You knew this day would come. You knew it, you knew it, you knew it. In the past you loved looking at your markers. You had them displayed in your old apartment. A scream almost escaped your throat but still it. What you couldn’t help were the tears that started to stream down your cheeks. This wasn’t a sad cry though, it was an angry one. The alcohol wasn’t helping either.

You stood up and without even thinking just began to destroy everything in your office. Your computer went flying, the curtains were ripped down, pictures, all the glass Knick Knacks were thrown and shattered. John tried to dodge the flying objects you whipped at him all while calling your name.

Your shoulders and chest heaved as you gained your breath back. The tears still poured as you picked up the somehow unharmed vodka bottle and just started to chug. John tried to stop you but you finished it before he could. There wasn’t much in it anyways, most of it had spilt all over the floor during your rampage.

Next you tried to shatter the bottle over his head, which you achieved but it wasn’t that easy as you swung it in a blind rage at him. Glass went flying everywhere as he cradled his head and yelled your name.

“Can we please just talk!”

“I don’t want to talk to you!” You screamed.

Sensing his moment of weakness you lunged at him and wrestled him to the ground. In a way you felt a little guilty, this was much easier since you knew he could never have fully recovered from falling off that roof. Against all odds though he was able to flip you over and hold you down with his legs and his arms.

You still flailed everywhere screaming your head off. The feeling of being held down sent you to places you didn’t want to go, especially if it was by a man. You head butted him, getting him to let you escape his grip. Like a scared animal you crawled to the other side of the room, not caring about the glass shards that were embedded in your hands. Then John heard the most heart wrenching sob of his life. You were hyperventilating.

“Don’t touch me! I hate you! All I asked was for you to talk to a friend. Now you come here, to my own sanctuary asking me to help you because you fucked up.” Coughs wrecked your body.

“All because you were sad your wife and her puppy died. Yeah well John, I’ve been pretty fucking sad too and I didn’t go and kill almost the entire Russian mafia and get excommunicato!”

John watched you from where he still sat on the floor, his nose bleeding. He loved Helen, he did but he could never have that connection like he had with you. The two of you were partners, you both grew up in the Roma Ruska together. You were together for sixteen years. Now he watched you have a panic attack on the floor, and it was all because of him.

You staggered up and held your bloodied hands in front of you. John heard you groan as the blood started to drip down your arms. The cuts were deep. Damn you were going to be in a world of hurt later, your body just wasn’t what it used to be. Only sniffles left you as you started towards the door, forgetting about him on the floor. You needed to see your daughters.

“I have to go see Kat and Darya..” Your mind was moving a mile a minute.

“Are they the doctors here?” John questioned while looking at the photo of you with the two young girls that now laid on the ground next to him.

That must be them.

A deranged laugh left your mouth as you turned and looked at him.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that you have two twenty year old daughters. Twins.” You talked about your daughters in a soft tone while his eyes shot to the photo once more, this time wider.

Before he could even respond you walked right out the door.0

#john wick fanfic #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you

36 notes · View notes