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mooshs-crack-headcanons · 4 months

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Hi if requests are still open could I ask for nsfw headcanons for Erwin, Levi and Hange? Thanks so much in advance 😊🩵

Yaaaaay, veteran trio sure thing :)

Disclaimer: I use they/them pronouns for Hanji and since this request is NSFW in nature also AFAB language/terms will also be used for them. And Levi’s portion goes into the expected heavy shit about his childhood and Underground. ...Erwin’s I just... idk. Wrote with my dick I guess 🧍🏻‍♂️

Gender neutral reader (no pronouns used) with AFAB or AMAB anatomy depending on reader's choice since both options are lightly given. Hope that makes sense.

NSFW contents under the cut 😉

Erwin Smith

Dear Reader, I want you to look me directly in the eyes and try to tell me this man doesn't have a big dick - trick question you can't. The man is big all over. But he's very polite about it, not one to brag but it does bring a warm smile to his face to see your eyes practically pop out of your head the first time you're down on your knees, crouched down in front of the chair to his desk, mouth already watering as you quickly undo his belt and unzip him to be able to pull him out - only to go eyes owl wide when it nearly smacks you in the face. It takes a lot from him not to chuckle out when your hand goes to hesitantly wrap around it - only for you to flinch back when it twitches hello in your grasp, he finds it very cute actually.

Hairy chest. That's all. Actually no - hairy everything. It's great.

He is loud very loud - Erwin’s a loud man in general, kind of has to be when he's been in a military superior position for good portion of his life. But it didn't come up from that, no, Erwin’s always been loud when it comes to 'entertaining' lovers - even since he younger, if Erwin Smith is having sex everyone will know it, does not help he's a screamer (Nile and Mike have always teased him about it) but he sees no shame in it - just proof his lover(s) made him feel good and wears it like a badge of honor. And don't think he's alone in this, he will make damn well sure you're just as satisfied until your lungs go sore.

But if you are embarrassed of having people give you awkward looks afterwards, the solution is actually very simple: gag him. It could be with anything really; your underwear, your fingers, your hands around his thick neck, your hole/cock, get really creative with it :) And if you want yourself to not be heard, just tell him I'm sure he can think of some naughty ideas too.

Erwin has... complicated issues with relationships, both being Commander and focusing on attaining his dream he'd rather not be tied down to a serious relationship, but he has no issue with a friends with benefits type situation - stress relief. God does he need stress relief. However, if you are in a serious relationship with him then it's clear you're obviously very special to him - which also complicates things. For one I see him refusing to date a civilian so you have to be in the Survey Corps and fully understand what that means, to fully understand the 'delicate your hearts' oath and fully know damn well either of you could die at any time each time you step outside the Walls. Plus Erwin has a lot - and I mean a lot of enemies, you being someone someone so dear and close to him makes you a number one target and he knows that, he struggles with that, however it's a good motivator in a way; keeps him more focused and on guard, it makes him more careful, it makes him gather more and more blackmail on certain people if needed. That being said, the sex between you and him if you're dating - or hell married - is full blown romantic.

Don't get me wrong, he'll still blow your back out if you ask, but most of the times when you both find the time to sink to each other's touch it's with this air of gentleness Erwin has honestly never experienced with another partner, even Marie. You're... something special to him. Maybe it's because unlike past romantic interests - both men and women - you actually understand what's going on inside his head, you get how important his dreams are, you get his guilt, you actually know the... unspeakable wonder (beside all the titan killing fellow comrades thing) of what it's like outside the Walls. Freedom.

His kisses are so gentle yet grounded, he makes sure to kiss every inch of your body while muttering all sorts of praise and adoration with his lips pressed up against your skin so you can feel his words.

His big, thick fingers work open your hole/pump around your cock with steady rhythm as he takes you on his bed. He loves feeling your hands spring up and encourage his actions by messing up his normally perfect stylized hair and turning it into a complete blonde mess.

Loves hearing you, your voice sounds like absolute heaven to him if there is one and your voice crying out his name over and over and over and over and over again as he makes you come with nothing but his fingers/hand never fails to briefly send him there each time.

When he's inside you he can't help but feel overwhelmed, you're so warm and tight hugging your walls around him and if you're smaller than him he will never fail to tell you how seeing his cock not even able to completely enter all the way inside without the tip of his cock already pressed to deep that his head is rubbing at the deepest part it can go without you completely breaking entirely. If you're around the same size or maybe even a little bigger, then it's still the same, it brings a wide stupid grin on his face to look back as he has your legs tossed back and you're on your back you taking his prick all the way up to his base, balls resting comfortably against your ass. He feels ecstasy when he can start fucking deep into you.

When I said loud, I mean loud-loud. And if you're more than just an occasional fuck? Double that by like - twenty. He will vocalize each and every single thing he's feeling and is on his mind as he pounds into you. The headboard? Is banging against the wall so loud that Cadets two floors down in the Mess Hall can hear it and could mistake it for Wall Rose getting breached. It's an absolute miracle that shit hasn't split in two yet and especially with how one of Erwin’s hands clutches down onto it to keep himself grounded as he fucks you, moaning and groaning your name and all sorts of curses so loud that Levi’s viciously kicking the wall down the hall in his own office just as loud to tell you two to shut the fuck up but neither of you can hear it as you're so fucking lost in one another.

Call him Commander in bed. Do it. That twenty will turn into a hundred so fucking fast, not as fast as Erwin rearranges you to turn around - front facing the bedroom door - and straddling his hips with your back to him and your arms are held behind your back as he roughly bounces you on his lap. Everyone in this damn building and outside it will know what you're doing.

I mentioned his hairy chest? Yeah, well that adds a nice friction on your back and his chest is so plump you can lay back in them almost like pillows. Meaty, hairy, pillows. It's nice. They jiggle underneath you btw.

When he comes it's like a geyser going off inside you - literally. He'll fill you so full and your ears will practically ring from how loud he'll scream unless you quickly muffle his mouth up with your own or something, if not... well, everyone already knows what you've been doing at this point. If not? They certainly do now. But you try not to think about it, watching the flood of come pouring out of your when his cock slips out and staining both your and his thighs and the bedsheets.

Erwin acts practically drunk in the afterglow, his words are slurred and he has this wide toothy smile on his face you can't help but to kiss. This is the true stress relief. Here, his thoughts are the furthest from everything; the Walls, the titans, the Government, the Crown, the maybe-possible-if-his-father's-right people living outside the Walls... his dream... all of it. This is one few times he can completely distract himself away from all of it. He isn't Erwin Smith, Commander of the Survey Corps and accidental murder of his father - he's just... Erwin. And he's with you, just you - not Squad Leader (Name) (Surname). Just you, (Name). Nothing outside this very room matters, just laying in each other's arms and taking in the glow of being with one another. Knowing damn well you'll have to remember and face it all once you leave here.

But it's fine. He wouldn't be with you nor you would him if you didn't know that, if you didn't want to fight back against everything that be - if you didn't want Erwin’s dream to come true. And everyday, bit by bit you make further strides for that dream, together. You’ll reclaim Wall Maria, capture outside the Walls, beat the titans, learn the truth of what's to know about them. And see that thing mentioned in one of Erwin’s forbidden hidden books his father left... what was it again? Oh yeah, the sea. The ocean.

You two will see that together. You promised one another. No matter what.

Levi Ackerman

Right off the bat it should be stated: Levi has a complicated relationship with sex - it should be obvious, given how he grew up. Where he grew up. What his mother did for a living, and... he very much grew up aware of what she did. It's not just sex either, relationships, dating as a whole he's... complicated with.

Two things: Levi doesn't do causal flings, he doesn't do causal relationships. If he's with you in the first place it's because he loves you. If he didn't he wouldn't be with you and it's that simple, he's doesn't vocalize it much - he has... issues with words, serious, emotion-y words - but if you're with him at all romantically in the first place you already know him fluently enough to understand that. He doesn't have to say "I love you," very often - you already know he does, and when he actually does voice it, it's always at the absolute most vulnerable positions he can be to show you how much he genuinely means it.

Trust is important to him. Very important. He loves you, he wouldn't be with you if he didn't as we already established that. Sex? Completely different ball park. If he wants to he sexually active with you it is beyond trust with him. It's beyond just trusting his own life in your hands, it's beyond letting you handle his old knives, it's beyond trusting you enough to tell you horror stories of how he grew up, it's beyond telling you just how close Farlan and Isabel were to him that they were practically siblings to him, it's beyond telling you about Kenny and how for the longest time and still sometimes that it fucks him up to think... he knew his mother - doesn't know how, the bastard always refused to ever tell him, and then just one day for no fucking reason just... walked out. Walked out without a word or anything. Left him to barely survive down there on his own until Farlan and Isabel. How for years... he was convinced the bastard might be his father. Because what else could he be? Visiting and knowing his dead mother by name - her actual name - and picking Levi up and saving him when he was on the brink of starvation, if Kenny hadn't arrived when he did then... he might've very well been dead by the next day. It's just... or it was hard to think up any other possible explanation but this MP killing bastard being his dad. But now, he isn't sure - nowadays doesn't really care to find out, hell the bastard could be rotting in a ditch for all he cares. He's never told another soul that - just you. Between you and him there's something deeper than trust.

Now, I know a lot of other headcanons tend to make Levi out to be this super dom sexy sex sex man or whatever, but no. He has no fucking experience whatsoever, until he made this connection with you he absolutely refused to - always thinking about that sunk look in his mother's eyes after dealt with clients and how she'd fake the warmth in them to hide the hurt when Levi would be let back in the room by one of her lady 'work friends' and she'd talk to him so lovingly and sweetly... until she got another knock on the door and he'd have to leave again. That sunken look in her eyes immediately returning and even as a kid he'd want to attack the bastards he knew was the cause of her hurt. And that's how he seen sex for the longest time, didn't fucking help with all the degenerates pigs Underground. He can count on both hands and toes and it still not be enough how how many fucking pigs he's had to gut for staring at Isabel the wrong gross way - a child. Still makes him sick. All these years later. So he's stayed away from it. Fought against it, even up against the absolute worst the Underground had to offer.

However, the longest he'd had bad associations with it, but... with you it's different. You're different, different than a lot of people and that's because of the beyond trust thing. He can be different around you - not the smartass, foul mouthed, titan killing machine people know him as now, he can be... vulnerable, alone with you - and he wants to be. He really does, he loves you afterall and... he wants to give himself to you, completely, because that's how special you are but...

It's stupid, he tells himself - he's a grown man, he's in his late twenties right now, acting and beating himself up in such a childish way over a natural thing. What's wrong with him? But it's you to calm him down, telling him you don't have to do anything and that you're content just the way things are between the two of you now. That you didn't need to go further - ever if he wished, that you love him no matter what. But the thing is... he wants to. There's just this - this mental block he can't seem to get across, no matter how hard he tried. Humanity's strongest? Or whatever it is they're calling him now? Scared of what? He scolds himself. Losing his virginity? The two of you share a bed together to sleep in - this shouldn't - shouldn't - shit. But... you look at him. The two of you sit together on the bed and you look up/down/straight forward at him (depending on your height) and he just... feels at ease, he remembers why he loves and beyond trusts you in the first place, that everything's fine, everything will be fine as he puts a hand to your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip as he gives a steady nod and melts his lips with yours.

That being all said, yeah, Levi’s a virgin. He doesn't really have all that much idea of what he's doing, just goes by his gut and will rely on you to actively tell him what to do, what you want, and how you want it. But Levi - being the prodigy in every new skill he learns, doesn't take long for things to start clicking together in place. Half in hour and your virgin lover you'd think was actually a sex deity in human form - things just... click for him in that odd way it does for him learning new things (weird fucking Ackerman genes in work in real time, actually)

Insane head-game. Think he mouth I'd just good for crass insults and shit jokes? Nope, but honestly that should be expected. After the first few experimental pokes and licks around, enough to get a good idea of how to get you going, will his mouth latch onto and kiss, bite, and suck around the opening to your wet hole then stuck fucking his tongue deep inside and thrusting in all the sweet places/or mark fondle your balls with his mouth before working up your shaft kissing your head before absolutely deepthroating and going to town on you - no gag reflex, shocker. He loves the way you taste and can go on and on and make you come again, and again, and again, and again repeatedly until you loose your mind or voice. Or both.

Want to play with his insecurities? Not maliciously of course, but in universe I think Levi’s thought of as """"""""ugly"""""" and if that's the case you can imagine what types of disgusting shit people has called/said to him. He doesn't mind or care, especially these days as he's older but... call him handsome, or gorgeous and Levi’s a really pale guy, even if he's been above ground a couple years he's still wasn't born a 'sun-walker' so when he blushes it practically dyes his entire face and goes all the way up to his ears. It's cute. Even more cute when he growls, frowns, and scowls as he tries to hide it and distract you by suddenly entering you - which breaks the facade almost immediately as he goes wide eyed and nearly out of breath as he feels you around him. You overwhelm him, he burries himself in your neck not to let himself bottom out. His chest rocks with each breath and he's quick to litter your neck and collar in bites.

Hope you like it here, virgin or not with that Ackerman stamina you're going to be here awhile as he absolutely rocks your world. For hours and hours on end until the both of you are drenched in sweat and the wall has a crack in it from the bed moving.

Very quiet - nearly silent actually except for the occasional gritted curse and heavy breathing. But the longer you go on the more comfortable he actually gets making noise; moans, grunts, and punched out intakes of your name.

He'll fuck you until your legs go numb, wrapped around his hips and encouraging every thrust he gives you and you'll come over and over until you're light headed, bit with him there seems to be no end in sight as he onyx colored hair swoops down and dances with each and every single one of his movements as he looks down almost dazed at you.

Tell him out loud you love him and he'll come on spot.

Silvery grays practically roll back inside of his head when he hits his release and he'll be louder than anything he's been all night before finally his body gives out and collapses on top of you. Wide pleased smile on his face that's for no one inside these entire damn Walls or below ground to see - accept for you. It's only for you. This all is only for you.

After falling unconscious for about forty seconds Levi wakes back up with his normal expected demeanor, this time he just lies there in your arms and presses himself lazily in your neck. When he speaks it's slightly muffled, but it's fine. You ask him if he had a good time - which he tells you is a stupid question and should be obvious, getting a light laugh out of you as you go to comb through his sweaty hair.

He makes it very clear later that this isn't a regular thing, a once maybe a month type thing until... he gets a better understanding with it. "Shit takes time, you know." And you agree, telling him to take all the time he needs which he just lies there for another lingering moments before pushing himself up and pushing his lips to your own.

A bath sounds good now.

Hanji Zoë

Doesn't really have that much experience, WAY too invested in their work to really have had the time. But! That doesn't mean they're not ready and willing to learn - very opposite in fact, honestly. They are absolutely over the MOON when you come out and say you want to fuck them! They get so excited that they rush off into whatever direction of the nearest library to learn and come up with ideas of what to do with you that they sort of leave you there behind in dust 😅 but not to worry, Moblit's there (somewhat very embarrassed to walk in on this exchange) but he promises you that your Squad Leader means well they're just... you know, eccentric.

Books on sexuality and other ""taboo"" stuff of that nature are looked down upon in the higher society of the Walls, but they're not that hard to find if you know where to look, and luckily Hanji knows where a bunch of them are - in fact they know a lot of libraries have them in a 'secret' section - but pulling a few strings and hinting at knowing about a married librarian's affair with a nurse down the street Hanji is able to gather a bunch of books to bring back to Headquarters! They spend all next and the next few days looking over them, reading them cover to cover - only having to explain to Nanaba once who came to visit their office and curiously had picked up one, only to immediately set it back down when seeing the one of the crude sexual diagrams drawn inside before immediately excusing herself.

So, with all this learning and newly attained precious knowledge and a bit of self discovery, turns out Hanji Zoë is a kinky mother fucker. They excitedly jot down all sorts of things that catch their interest, said list turns several pages long that when shown and told about your eyes nearly bug out of your head. Your face turns scorched hot as you tell your lover that maybe best for now just to... narrow it down to three things, then the both of you could talk and work up to it.

And that's where it stays for a couple of weeks, nothing really happens and things go on as normal, until one day when you're at the Superiors table in the Mess Hall as Erwin draws on and on about Banquet plans - AKA 'entertaining' and kissing ass to the nobles and the Brass to beg for funding for the next expedition outside Wall Maria - to you, Levi, Nanaba, and Mike, until suddenly Hanji comes springing down the hall and grabs your arm and pulls you completely off the bench seat to where you fall on your ass.

"Sorry-important-titan-research-matters-need-to-borrow-(Name)-bye!" And they drag you off, your ass still on the floor. Leaving everyone else at that table speechless.

You're about to scold your lover the moment you get inside the door, now at your feet, and your just about to until Hanji pushes you back against the wood in a feverish kiss that leaves you breathless. When they pull away they have a wide shit eating grin on their face. Okay. You're much calmer now. You let yourself be dragged across the small office and shoved onto the bed tucked in the corner - Hanji gives you a wink and excitedly goes for a couple boxes at their desk, handing them to you for you to open.

Rope. A... harness looking thing that looks like... underwear? With an odd hoop in the middle. And... a large phallic shaped object that makes your eyes go shot wide. Okay, you tell yourself. This must be their three.

"Two actually," They correct you without you even having to say it out loud. "-this is three." Without much effort they start pulling off their uniform to reveal the pretty white laced lingerie they have on that makes you go entirely speechless. They push their glasses up further on their nose with a head tilt. "You like?" You nod without even feeling yourself do so. "Good." You... didn't know to whether be scared or aroused at that glint in their eyes.

You're naked and tied up from post to post with the red velvety rope as your lover straddles you and map out every part of your body with their hands, committing each bump, scar, and curve to memory. Hanji looks at you with this inquisitive look in their eyes - the same look they get during one of their experiments but yet, it's almost different than that, or is it? They touch you and look back up to your face for a reaction, they like watching you squirm but not be able to do anything with your limbs tied and can only whimper and moan for them, they like that very much actually. You can't touch them either, as they straddle you your hips do buck into them - getting a gasp out of them but with their hands suddenly around your neck they scold you with a pointed wagging finger. "Bad, naughty."

Their hips starts grounding into you as they begin touching themselves with only you helpless to watch their hand disappear down lace panties and start working themselves over, making sure to make plenty of noises you can hear until suddenly their slick hand is shoved into your mouth and you're ordered to suck, which you do until they're roughly yanked out be replaced but their breathless kiss instead - tasting their own arousal off you. Then they get an idea.

With a wide smile off their face do they maneuver around the bed to where they're above you and moves the panties aside for you to eat at them as they sit on your face. They hum and moan out all sorts of praises as they let you know how good of a job your doing eating out their pussy like it was your last meal, and since Hanji wants to be the dominant party here, they're not afraid to order you around a bit - reminding you that they are your Squad Leader and you should address them as so. So get ready to add "Yes, Squad Leader," to each and every you say tonight :)

For being so good, they give you a reward: while you continue to eat them out, they'll bend slightly over, spread you legs slightly apart to comfortly position themselves to eat out your hole/or gag around your cock, all nice and good for their beloved favorite squad member until you both come at least a couple times each, and if you're to type to get overstimulated, they'll reassure how well you're doing and tell you in the softest voice they can: "One more, just one more." until you come again.

Once you're done with that and Hanji wobbles off the bed, legs shaking, as they go to gather the harness and dick shaped object off the floor. They slip off the lingerie panties and stuff them in your mouth with a; "Hold these, please." As your lover then boucy legs each of their legs through the leg-holes and carefully latches each strap - only pausing when they look over and realized they forgot the dick. Oopsie. Fix that.

With it finally on they kneel back on top the bed, untying yours legs and arms and rubbing each appendage carefully, muttering to ask if you're okay in your ear - you nod. Now, it doesn't matter to Hanji how big or small you are. You are going on their lap - no matter how maybe ridiculous you maybe might look, you are straddled their hips at your sex is rubbed against their fake dick. But of course, you're not getting it first without begging for it, or beg for it enough for your lover's liking.

When it's in and your hips are encouraged by Hanji's hands at your hips to start bouncing on it, at your own pace at the start, until a sudden slap to your ass encourages you go faster and you make a noise - muffled by the panties still in your mouth - to your lover's shit eating grinned delight as they start thrusting their hips to meet the back or your thighs in wet snaps.

Hanji absolutely loves having their chest marked up, after ripping the underwear from out of your mouth they'll hold your head to bite at their breasts that gets them to toss their head back in a satisfied hum.

Eventually, will push you to your back and start pounding away at you in their own pace, committing every sound you make to memory and drinking in every call of their name like they were on the brink of dehydration and bit by bit more they push you to the absolute edge - until you nearly scream out your climax, for it to be quickly smoothed by their lips and a tight fist wadded in your hair.

Both of you are jelly boned by the time your finished, completely naked now up in each other's arms and honestly half asleep. That is until you chuckle, nuzzling your face in the crook of your love's neck. "I think that might've been just a tad more than three things," you tell them, which they shrug. "What can I say? I got creative in the moment, you know - there's a ton of things in those books! Maybe some stuff you'll like-" You wave it off with a yawn.

"Maybe later. Nap time now," You can't help the amused smile. "-Squad Leader."

If you like what you read please consider reblogging! It means the world for writers and artists!

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hotformpreg · 5 days

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In the sterile dormitory of Echo Camp, a surrogacy retreat, Jamie strode through the aisle with a buoyant step, fresh from his successful checkup. The room buzzed with the low chatter of fellow surrogates, their bellies rounded and lives momentarily intertwined in this shared journey of creation.

“Hey, Jamie, how’d it go?” called out Marcus from his upper bunk, a book resting unattended on his chest.

“Smooth as silk,” Jamie replied, patting his stomach with a grin. “The dads were over the moon. Looks like I’m on track for a natural delivery.”

A chorus of supportive cheers rose from the bunks. From a few beds down, Alex chimed in, “That’s great, man! These little ones have a way of making the world feel right, don’t they?”

“Sure do,” Jamie agreed, settling onto his own bed. “What about you, Alex? Thinking of going again after this one?”

“Absolutely,” Alex laughed, hands resting on his own pronounced curve. “It’s like a badge of honor now, isn’t it? Can’t imagine going back to a regular job after this.”

The room filled with knowing nods; many were veterans, already considering their next surrogacy term.

Suddenly, a sharp gasp cut through the camaraderie. They turned to see Elliot, clutching the side of his bunk, his face etched with surprise. “Guys... I think my water just broke.”

Instantly, the room sprung into action. “Nurse! We’ve got a situation here!” Jamie shouted down the hall.

Two male nurses hurried in, their efficiency a comforting presence. “Alright, Elliot, let’s get you to L&D, stat,” one said calmly, slipping supportive arms under Elliot’s shoulders and easing him into a waiting wheelchair.

As they whisked Elliot away, his face a mask of concentration, the remaining surrogates exchanged glances of excitement and empathy.

“Guess it’s showtime for Elliot,” Marcus murmured.

“Just the beginning,” Jamie replied. “Before we know it, that'll be us heading off to the delivery ward.”

“Yeah,” Alex said, a contemplative look crossing his face. “It’s wild, isn’t it? We’re all here, in this place where life starts. Makes you think about the little ones we’re all going to meet soon.”

#male pregnancy #mpreg #mpreg belly #mpreg birth #mpreg kink #pregnantman #mpreg art #mpreg ai #mpregaiart

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simmerandwrite · 4 months

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Sink Into Me - 08 - mob!Steve Rogers x plus size!reader

Pairing: mob boss! Steve Rogers x plus size! reader

Summary: You were simply doing a good deed, pulling the handsome stranger out of the way when a car jumped the curb. Little did you know that the life you saved belonged to Steve Rogers, the Army veteran turned art dealer with connections to the Brooklyn crime syndicate.

Steve Rogers, who won’t stop calling you his guardian angel.

Steve Rogers, whose new goal in life just might be repaying his debt to you.

Steve Rogers, who isn’t shy until it comes to his feelings and will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Chapters: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09

Wordcount: 8.3k

Warnings: canon level violence (guns, physical fighting), allusions to dog fighting (but no mention of any kind of abuse), some angst

Notes: HI I AM SO SORRY ABOUT THE DELAY. life, ya know? but enjoy this little treat, please. and.. uhm.. sorry.

---

“We need to talk about Steve Rogers.”

You took in a hard breath and scanned the man - he had a permanent smug look to him, something that made you feel unsettled. The tag around his neck with his badge indicated his name was Grant Ward, NYPD detective.

“Give me back my phone,” you said, slowly emptying your lungs in an attempt to stay calm. “Now.”

Ward shook his head, grinning. “Not yet. C’mon, let’s chat.” He slipped your phone inside his jacket pocket and grabbed your elbow, urging you to step further across the sidewalk in front of a closed down shop. “I got your info from Hammond’s file. You were a witness on a little vehicular assault case a while back, right?”

Nothing about this felt proper or to procedure. But you wanted it to end as quickly as possible, so you nodded.

“What I need to know is why Steve Rogers asked you to lie on your witness report and identify the wrong person.”

“Excuse me?” Your voice cracked as you tried to piece together what he was saying. “I didn’t lie about anything. Shouldn’t - shouldn’t Officer Hammond be following up with me - if there was an issue?”

“I’ve reopened the investigation.” Ward leaned against the building, glancing up and down the street casually as he spoke. “Your intentional misidentification put someone innocent in jail. How do you sleep at night?”

“I didn’t lie,” you repeated, swallowing hard. Hercules paced at your feet.

“You’re lying right now. Rogers told you who to point out in that police lineup, didn’t he?”

You wanted to scream in this man’s face but given he was technically a person of the law, you resisted. Instead, you pursed your lips and opted to stay quiet. Shouldn’t you have a lawyer or something to represent you? God, why weren’t you into legal dramas instead of reality tv?

“Here’s what it looks like. Rogers asks you to help him out and in turn, you get a fancy new apartment. Isn’t that right?” Ward took a step forward and pointed past you, towards the rest of the block. “How else can you afford a luxury apartment working your little 9-5 gig? I verified your record of employment and something just doesn’t add up.”

Before you had a chance to reply to his asinine claim, he was reaching for his buzzing phone. “This is Ward.” You tried to listen to the other end of the call, but couldn’t make out the voice.

He looked back at you, eyes roving up and down as he carried on with his phone conversation. “You’re kidding. That was all true? Wow. Okay. Yeah, I’m with her. Sure.” He raised his free hand and suddenly a nearby SUV was pulling up. “Heading there now.”

Your stomach twisted when Ward turned back to you.

“Let’s go.” He tipped his head towards the vehicle, where the driver had gotten out to open the back door. “We’ve gotta move this chat elsewhere.”

Your eyes blew open, head shaking. “Absolutely not. Give me my phone and —“

Ward stepped towards you again, grabbing your hand that was holding onto Hercules' leash. “If you don’t get in that car willingly, you’ll have a dead dog on your hands. Is that what you want?” He flashed you a smile. “Let’s. Fucking. Go.”

“Storm coming tonight..”

Steve looked up from his plate of pasta, watching his mom across the table as she put down her cutlery. Sarah rubbed her hands together, tired with the weight of time and the pressure of weather changes that seemed to grow worse with each passing season.

“I can feel it in these old joints,” Sarah continued, leaning back in her chair before glancing to the window above her kitchen sink.

“Ma,” Steve finally replied, quietly returning his own fork to the side of his plate. “Why don’t you skip the rest of this monologue about the weather and tell me what’s really on your mind?”

Steve tried to have dinner with his mother at least once a week, if time permitted. The last few months had been a bit chaotic for him though, mostly his own doing of course. And Sarah hadn’t pressed when he canceled. But, something about her tone and strange casual conversation wasn’t sitting well with him. In fact, he could read his mother really well and she was upset, maybe even mad at him. If there was one thing Steve hated, it was when his mother was upset with him.

He liked to nip it in the bud as quickly as he could.

Sarah sighed, slowly crossing her arms over her chest as she eyed down her son. “I haven’t had the chance to tell you about who I ran into at the hospital a few weekends ago.”

“You gonna give me a clue?” Steve smirked, taking a long pause to enjoy a sip from his wine glass. “Who?”

When your name left his mother’s lips, Steve felt his chest tighten. He had very quickly and casually explained to her that you and he had called things off, respectfully asking Sarah not to press him for details. Surprisingly, she hadn’t asked any follow up questions, though Steve knew she hadn’t been feeling positive about the news. In fact, he had assumed his mom would have had a much more passionate reaction. And maybe it was still coming.

He took a deep breath. “Oh. And.. how is she?” Would it be possible for this conversation to only last one more sentence? Would he be able to get out of it without his mother making him feel any worse?

When Steve met his mom’s gaze again, he knew that question wasn’t what he should have asked. He was starting to think maybe saying nothing would have been best.

“How is she?” Sarah repeated, letting out a hard laugh. “Steven.”

“Ma, listen, what happened between us is..” He hesitated. Complicated was not the word he wanted to use, but what else could he say? “I had to cut things off. She’s safer this way.”

There. His heart was torn off his sleeve and slapped onto his plate.

“Steve,” Sarah was softer this time, releasing the anger from her shoulders as she reached across the table for his hand. “You’re not being fair. To yourself. How are you supposed to live this way? Don’t you want a family in the future? Or a break from.. everything?”

Steve squeezed her hand but didn’t respond. Sarah waited another moment for him to say something, then stood and carried her plate to the sink.

Without turning back around, she continued. “I told her about Hamilton House.”

Steve sighed, leaning back in his chair again and shaking his head. “Ma..”

“Why didn’t you just talk to her? She would have understood.”

“You barely made it out of that fire alive!” Steve pushed back from the table and met his mother at the sink, placing a hand on her shoulder. “And I can barely live with myself as is, but if something happened to her too, I’d..”

“Honey,” Sarah’s voice was even quieter now as she pivoted to look at him. She reached her hand up to cradle his face. “You need to stop blaming yourself, please.”

How could he ever do that? The scars were still quite obvious on many parts of his mother’s body -

“Steve.” Sarah took in another deep breath. “I’m a grown woman who can take care of herself. And so is she.” There was your name again, coming off of Sarah’s tongue like it just warmed her soul. “She’s good for you.”

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” A painful laugh gurgled up in Steve’s throat. “I made pretty sure she’ll never talk to me again, unfortunately.”

“Steven.” This time the soft edge had left Sarah’s tone. The disappointment was back. “Don’t tell me you pushed that girl away on purpose.”

“I’m a grown man who can take care of himself,” Steve repeated back to her, stepping away from the sink and turning to grab his coat. “I’ve gotta go, Ma. Thanks for dinner.”

Sarah grabbed his wrist, eyes bright with words she wouldn’t say. Instead, she shook her head and sighed quietly. “At least take a container of pasta for Bucky.”

---

The further the vehicle traveled beyond your neighbourhood, the further your stomach sank. You did your best to listen to the conversations happening between Ward and his driver, but nothing seemed clear.

Where were you going? Were you in trouble? You hadn’t lied to the police - you knew better than that. But how could you prove that when clearly they had another story created? Was this about Steve? You weren’t even talking to him. What the hell was going on?

The only thing saving you from a breakdown was Hercules resting his head on your lap. Gently you scratched behind his ears, doing your best to reassure your dog as he did the same for you.

You were going to be okay. There had to be a positive solution to this mess.

Eventually, the vehicle slowed down in an industrial area you weren’t familiar with. In the growing darkness of the night, everything kind of looked the same - rows of large warehouse style buildings, some in much worse shape than the others. As you approached one of the buildings, a garage door opened up to allow you access.

“Let’s go,” Ward barked out as the car stopped, quickly sliding through his door and throwing the one closest to you open. He reached for your nearest wrist. “But first..”

Handcuffs. What you could only assume were police-grade handcuffs joined your wrists together, despite your protests. Ward was choosing every opportunity to remind you he had a gun, so when he told you to head towards the staircase leading out of the parking area, all you could do was comply.

The driver, some other nameless brute listening to Ward’s every word, held on to Hercules’ leash and followed behind. The panic within you stirred.

The building had clearly once been a thriving warehouse or multi-level business hub. Now, it was reduced to whatever criminal activity these men were tied up in. Every second window was boarded up or leaking in cold air through broken shards, with the evidence of previous occupants littering the floors. Old desks, chairs, appliances laid strewn about.

Ward guided you across the second floor, leading towards the far side of the room. You could hear other voices as you approached. He yanked the door open and pressed against your back for you to enter ahead of him.

You stumbled past the threshold, lifting your head up to look around the room. It felt out of place, given the state of the building. This room remained intact from days before, the remnants of an executive office with a large boardroom table sitting opposite the broken windows. A man you didn’t recognize was seated behind an oversized mahogany table, a burning cigar hanging off his lips. Behind him, a disheveled blond wearing an ill-fitting suit jacket stood scrolling through his phone.

That man you did recognize – you were certain he had been one of the men who had broken into your apartment. You could feel the familiar wave of panic come over you again.

Sitting in a pair of chairs in front of the desk were another two men – one dressed in a long overcoat over his suit, with perfectly coiffed hair. The other donned more casual clothes, well worn with a scowl across his face, strong and silent. You thought perhaps you recognized them, too. You might have seen them at Shield or maybe they had worked with Steve?

“This is her?” The man with the cigar asked, rising from his seat. The other two seated men had turned their heads to look in your direction, then stood the same.

Ward laughed, returning his gun to his jacket, and reaching a hand to grip your neck. He urged you closer to the desk.

“Russo – you’re sure?” The same man asked again, shooting a glance at one of the other two men. Ah, nice suit, nice hair - Russo. He had interrupted you and Steve, that day at his office.

“Yep. I know, doesn’t make sense to me either,” Russo replied with a dry laugh, stepping away from the desk and waiting to the side with the other man, Mr. Strong and Silent.

“Walker, you’re on dog duty,” Ward added after. He snapped his fingers and the guy scrolling on his phone was at attention, rolling his eyes as he grabbed Hercules’ leash from the driver.

Hercules whimpered at the back of the room.

You tried to look towards your confused pup, but Ward’s hands landed on your shoulders. He pushed down to encourage you to sit in one of the vacant seats at the desk.

Finally, the man with the cigar looked at you. A tight smirk curled up on his face as he said your name out loud. “Well, nice to finally meet you. I’m Brock. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

You sat still, hands resting on your lap. You resisted replying with some snappy commentary and instead dug your fingernails into your palms. Maybe you needed to comply, but God, what was the point of all this?

“I’m not really sure what I’m doing here,” you said quietly, letting out a long breath. “I told him-” you jerked your head at Ward, “-everything I said to Officer Hammond was true. Steve didn’t ask me to lie about anything and I’m sorry if someone you know ended up in jail but I had to tell the truth.”

Brock raised an eyebrow, amused. “Well, I don’t give a shit about any of that. We’ve gotta fix this and you’re going to help.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line.

“You’re going to meet with Hammond and tell him you lied about-”

You shook your head. “I didn’t lie.”

Brock abandoned his cigar and slammed his hand on the table. “Don’t interrupt me, darling.” He took a breath and started again. “You’re going to meet with Hammond tomorrow morning and set things straight, alright?”

“And if I don’t?” You swallowed the lump in your throat as you asked your question.

Brock leaned back in his chair, grinning. “You’re really asking that? Damn. Well, if you don’t - you’re never going to see your dog again, for starters.”

Your face fell and you shuffled in the chair again, turning to look back towards Hercules. “Please don’t hurt him.”

“What do you think, Walker? The mutt would be good for the pit, huh? They could use some fresh meat for the next fight.”

You gasped as Hercules pulled at his leash, trying to walk to you. Walker held the leash tight.

“P-please. Don’t. He doesn’t deserve that, he’s just..” Your voice shook as you turned and looked back at Brock. “Okay, fine. I’ll talk to Hammond.” You just had to agree and get out of here. Once you were home, you could call the police station and tell them the truth and and and–

“Hammond is expecting you first thing tomorrow morning at the station.” Ward was looking down at your phone, tapping away at the screen. Great, he was just sending messages on your behalf. You hated that. Clearly you were not getting your phone back. Fuck, how were you going to get out of this?

“Now,” Brock leaned onto his elbows on the desk, returning his cigar to his mouth for a long drag. “Let’s talk about Rogers.”

You gulped.

“I need every little dirty secret you’ve got,” Brock said with a snap of his fingers. “Let’s go. Talk.”

“I don’t..” You faltered, glancing around the room quickly. Russo was watching you carefully while his partner seemed to be preoccupied with his feet, his eyes were drawn down. “I don’t know what you think I might know.. Steve and I.. We.. He broke up with me a while ago.”

A laugh escaped Brock. “I heard that wasn’t the case.”

Russo stepped forward. “Rogers took you home from Shield a few weekends ago, did he not? Drove you right back into your apartment then even walked you to the door?”

You stilled. Why did these men know about that? Were they following you? Or Steve? How did they know where you lived?

“I don’t know anything, I swear. Even when we were..” You closed your eyes. “We didn’t talk about business.”

“You know, I don’t believe you.” Brock let out a frustrated huff and tapped his cigar ash to the floor. “Let’s start easy, alright? Rogers has a ledger, the Bible for all his transactions. Where does he keep it?”

You shrugged. “I honestly have no idea. I don’t remember ever seeing a ledger or–”

“Bullshit.” It was Russo jumping in now. “You were fucking him for months. Christ, give us something.”

If you shifted your head back and forth in a shake anymore, you were going to give yourself whiplash. “I-I don’t, really.” You didn’t like how they were both crowding in on you, guns visible on their hips as their voices escalated. “Steve didn’t tell me things - he.. I didn’t..”

“Where does he keep his safe? What buildings did he take you to?” Brock continued on, reciting any thought or question that seemed to jump into his head. “I need to know which Senator is really in his pocket. And what he promised to Rhodes.”

You repeated yourself again and again and again as they bombarded you. “I don’t know, I don’t know! He would never tell me those things.”

“Think harder then.” Brock stood up in a fury, circling the desk to plant himself in front of you. “I need something fucking useful.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to think of something, anything to stop this. Everything you retained about Steve wouldn’t be what they wanted - that he was an old soul, a gentleman who kept your best interests at heart. Who loved old musicals and his mother. Who cared deeply about things but had hurt you deeply, too. None of that would have been helpful so what the fuck were you supposed to do?

“I..” You let out a breath. Would it be worth it to lie?

“If you say ‘you don’t know’ one more goddamn time..” Brock leaned forward, closing in the space between you and reaching for your jaw. He held it between his fingers, keeping you in his grasp waiting for an answer.

When you didn’t respond, Brock growled and reached for his cigar, flipping it in his fingers and bringing the burning end closer and closer to your exposed neck. You could feel the heat before it even touched your skin and all you could do was scream in anticipation.

“I don’t– please! Please don’t-” You pressed yourself into the chair, trying to get as far away from him as possible. But, the burning sensation never came.

“Hey–” This was a new voice. The Strong and Silent man lingering near Russo had rushed between you and Brock, shoving him away before the cigar made contact with your skin. “You said you weren’t going to hurt her.”

Brock pushed him back. “This has nothing to do with you, Castle. Back the fuck off.”

Castle didn’t move - acting as a barricade between you and Brock. They stood at a standstill, and eventually Brock let out a long dramatic sigh. “Ward.” He snapped his fingers again and Ward came forward. Once again, a hand landed on your shoulder.

“Take her up to the roof.”

---

“Do we not fucking knock anymore?” Steve called out as Bucky burst into his office, dragging Peter by the collar as he did.

Steve’s patience had run thin following dinner with his mother. She had managed to stir everything else up again, the feelings Steve was desperately trying to eliminate from his heart. Yet, they hadn’t dulled over time like he wanted. They remained steady, as steady as the beat of his heart.

“She’s good for you.”

On top of that, they had managed to clear out most of the out of territory drug dealers creeping into Brooklyn. But it hadn’t really stopped. The drugs still found their way in, and the problems were escalating moreso. Angry clients, aggravated partners, a particularly frustrated future Mayor who needed Steve’s compliance and trusted network underground for insight.

The last thing Steve wanted to deal with now was another issue. But when Steve saw the panicked look in Bucky’s eyes as he grabbed Peter’s shirt, Steve paused.

“Show him.” Bucky urged Peter forward, eyes wide in a panic. “Now.”

Steve stood from his chair slowly, meeting the young man in the middle of his office. “What’s going on? Is this about Beck again?”

“No, sir. No. It’s uh..” Peter’s hand was shaking as he gripped his cellphone, tapping on the screen before he glanced between Bucky and Steve again. “I keep an eye on social media - mostly just to see what’s happening, who’s hanging out where. My friend Ned he..” Peter shook his head. “Whatever. No one knows it’s me who watches their stuff. So. I was clicking through John Walker’s Instagram stories - that guy is an idiot, by the way. Always trying to bait women to find him at clubs or wherever. And..”

Peter tapped through something on his screen then turned it toward Steve. “Mr. Barnes said he recognized the dog in the background of this video..”

Steve snatched the phone and pressed play on the screen recording. John Walker was in the middle of the frame, filming himself with the front camera as he talked about which bar he’d be showing up at later. But none of that mattered to Steve. What did matter was the dog tied up in the background, pulling at his lead as he started to bark.

“Christ. Sorry about the mutt. Dealing with something for work..”

Steve raised his eyes from the screen, eyebrows furrowed. “When was this posted?”

Peter swallowed before he replied. “About 20 minutes ago.”

Bucky turned to Steve. “Is that..?”

All Steve could do was growl, shoving the phone back at Peter. “Send that to me. Right now.” Steve reached for his own phone, heading out the door of his office towards the primary club facilities. Bucky was at his feet, asking what he could do to help.

“Buck, call Kate. I need a timestamp for when Hercules was picked up.”

Bucky nodded and tore off, phone to his ear.

Steve called Clint directly. “Barton, I need your help.”

---

Kate confirmed you had picked up Hercules just before they closed. She didn’t notice anything concerning, aside from your general demeanor seeming quiet.

Clint reviewed security footage outside your apartment building entrance, back door and lobby. No sign of you. It’s possible you had picked up your dog then gone elsewhere, but Steve wasn’t convinced.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Steve paced his office again and again, waiting desperately for some information. Peter and Thor had stolen off to a few well known bars to see if they could track down Walker or any of his friends.

Clint had gone to your building to troll the neighborhood and seek out any additional video footage that might help.

Steve called Vision to see if he could connect with Wanda to get some information about where you might be, without leading to anything especially suspicious.

Steve needed to know where you were and if you were okay. Truthfully, he wouldn’t be able to settle until he knew you were safe - until he saw you himself.

This was the fucking risk, wasn’t it? Letting you in. People were going to use your relationship against him. It was staring him right in the face all along. Fuck, how could he live with himself if you got hurt?

Steve let out a fit of rage that had been brewing within him. He grabbed the rocks glass off his desk, still half full of melting ice, and sent it flying into the back of his door.

God fucking damnit. He didn’t like any of this. With no news from Vision and Wanda, his mind was going to bad places.

Steve stalked across the broken glass and threw his door open, grabbing his coat as he left. He found Bucky downstairs at the bar, phone in hand as Natasha leaned beside him.

“Please tell me someone has some fucking news to share,” Steve growled out as he approached. He didn’t even have to ask Natasha to pour him a drink, as it quickly appeared on the bar.

“No Walker sightings yet,” Bucky said as he glanced at his phone. As he turned the screen, a new message appeared.

The text didn’t contain any information or words, just a simple location pin. Bucky tapped on it, revealing an address on the outskirts of Brooklyn.

“Who sent that?” Steve asked, eyeing over Bucky’s shoulder as he drained his glass.

“No clue. I don’t know the number.” Bucky replied quietly. “No message either. Just a thumbs up emoji. But the timing is suspect.”

Steve shook his head. What did he have to lose? “Let’s go. Have Sam meet us there.”

---

You should have worn more layers, warmer clothes. Not that you anticipated being abducted on your way home. But you trusted the warm fall morning and now all you had was regret. A thin sweater barely kept you covered and the looming thunder overhead meant the threat of rain was very real.

Ward had dragged you up the barren staircases to the roof, where he had then removed one of your handcuffs only to attach it to some external pipe system that hugged the outside wall of the building. You could sit on the dirty cold roof or stand and try to peer down, but nothing else. You were stuck.

When you tried to plead with Ward for your escape, he only smirked then offered an alternative.

“Tell you what - if you get on your knees for me, I’ll remove the handcuffs altogether.”

As an answer to that proposal, you spit in his face. He really didn’t like that - which left you pushed to the ground and cuffed with no coverage from wind or impending rain. God fucking damnit.

Once Ward disappeared through the door again, you yelled for help. If it made any lick of difference, you had no idea. There was another building very close by, yelling distance at least. But it looked abandoned just the same. On the other side of the roof, it looked like an emergency staircase existed.

Not like you’d be able to escape. You seemed very stuck.

Were they going to leave you out there all night? Was this some scare tactic? What did they want from you - a detailed breakdown of everything you knew about Steve? You couldn’t do that - you wouldn’t. Despite the ricochet of emotions you had been through with Steve, you still felt.. something to him. Be it loyalty or kindness or whatever, you couldn’t throw him under the bus.

Steve was a good person. You saw that in him often. But these men? You weren’t so sure.

What if they left you until you had to meet with Hammond? Ten hours in the cold and rain. You could survive that, maybe. Maybe.

Thunder rumbled above you. Rain started to fall.

Fuck. Maybe not.

In an attempt to make yourself as small as possible, you sat against the side wall and wrapped your free arm around yourself. It didn’t do much to protect you from the rain, but it helped retain what little body heat you still had.

You weren’t sure how long you sat in the rain before you heard the access door burst open. You looked up and braced yourself, but felt almost relieved to see it wasn’t Ward again.

It was Castle.

He hesitated when he saw you, then quickly hurried in your direction.

You closed your eyes in a panic. “I’m sorry - I don’t have anything to share about Steve - I can’t remember if there was—”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m not here about that.” Castle crouched down in front of you. “I can’t let you go but let me help, alright?” He reached into his pocket and took out what looked like a Swiss Army knife. “I’ll get out of these cuffs at least.”

You braced yourself as he gently touched your wrist, using his tool to work through the lock mechanism. “Thank you.. uhm, Mr. Castle?”

He chuckled, barely. “Frank.”

You nodded, grateful as he freed your hand and left the cuffs dangling. “Thank you, Frank.”

“Over there,” Frank turned his head and pointed to the middle of the roof, where a small maintenance structure stood. It had a sloping roof that could provide more coverage. “Go. You’ll be covered at least.”

Frank got to his feet and offered you his hand. Once you were standing, he shrugged off his own heavy coat and handed it to you.

“Frank,” you clutched the coat and met his gaze, eyes blurring from the rain. “Can you just.. make sure my dog is okay? Hercules? He’s a lover, not a fighter. But he’s all I have and- and..”

Frank gave you a curt nod. “Go.” He motioned back to the small shed and you nodded too.

You had no idea why Frank was helping you. But you decided it had to be a good sign, right?

---

Steve had no idea what he was walking into. He had done this before – going in blind to certain situations was the nature of his entire job. It wasn’t always possible to anticipate who he would run into, if the person he trusted would deliver, if weapons were involved. But given his state of mind and the all-consuming worry he had about your wellbeing; he didn’t really care what he was faced with.

He just needed to figure out where you were and ensure you were safe.

The location that had been sent to Bucky was outside of Brooklyn, just barely. Along an industrial neighbourhood, where plenty of abandoned factories and distribution centers lived, the coordinates lead them to a nondescript building.

Steve and Bucky climbed out of the car, strapped with more than enough guns and ammunition to fight their way through whatever and whoever they were about to face. As they approached, Sam jogged into view, too.

“Thor couldn’t find Walker anywhere,” Sam provided as an update once they were waiting outside. “But Peter’s little tech friend managed to track a location for some recent postings to this general area..”

“Sounds like a likely place to look,” Bucky concluded, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at Steve.

Steve took in a deep breath, eyebrows narrowed as he gazed at the doors ahead of him. Raising his hands, he tugged at the collar of his coat and smoothed it out before nodding. He was ready to deal with this.

“If she’s anywhere in here, her safety is priority, you understand?” Steve glanced from Bucky back to Sam, waiting for their own nod of understanding. “If anyone put her in danger, they’re going to pay. But not at her expense.”

Bucky pressed his knuckles into his metal palm, a coy smirk raising on his lips. “Here’s hoping I get to fuck up Walker’s face again.”

Sam took the lead and yanked the dilapidated entry door open, busting open the lock mechanism with little effort. The main level they entered on was mainly being used for vehicle parking and what looked like some storage. A staircase led up to the next level.

Steve carried on - striding to the top of the staircase and heading through the doors. The entire building was in bad shape but this wasn’t their first rodeo.

Someone was hiding out somewhere. And when he found them, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Sam - call everyone to be standby, including Thor and his brother. Get Barton to scope out next door, too. Lots of windows for coverage, the rooftop. Remind him about the Bullseye protocol.” Steve ran a hand through his hair then glanced to his right, motioning to the far door with Bucky. “You’re with me.”

In a few long strides, Steve reached the door and waited. Then, he raised a hand and knocked against it. Bucky stood behind his left shoulder.

Someone on the other side of the door was yelling, then eventually they heard heavy stomping as someone approached. When the door opened, Steve didn’t hesitate - he leaped forward and reached for the collar of whoever it was.

Steve growled. Grant Ward.

“Oh Jesus fucking–” Ward yelped out, trying to pull away from Steve’s grasp as Steve backed him into the room. “Take it fucking easy, Rogers. What the fuck are you–”

“Where is she?” Steve’s voice boomed, holding Ward in his grip as he glanced around the room. It was a fairly sparse leftover office, but sitting at the end of the large boardroom table was Billy Russo, Frank Castle and Brock Rumlow himself. A few other nameless thugs waited behind them, guns at the ready. “Where IS SHE?”

Steve threw Ward to the ground, reaching for his gun as the men at the table stood up and drew their own weapons, too. Bucky followed in behind Steve and kicked Ward down when he tried to get back on his feet.

“Stay down,” Bucky said to Ward.

Rumlow moved from his spot slowly, waving his gun around and placing it down on the table as he walked towards Steve. “Rogers.”

Steve didn’t respond, darting his eyes from Rumlow back to Russo and Castle at the table. Russo looked away, suddenly preoccupied with anything else but Steve. Castle, though, also put his gun away.

“Rumlow.” Steve growled out your name this time. “Where. Is. She?”

Brock smirked. “Who? Oh.. yes. Sure. We just met. As far as I know, you two aren’t together anymore. What’s the concern?”

“If you fucking touched her-” Steve raised his hand again, gun pointing directly at Rumlow as they stood apart. “Tell me where she is.”

“Me and Russo have been talking. I think the three of us could be working together better. If you haven’t been picking off my dealers one by one, the pot could be a lot sweeter.”

“You and your drugs aren’t worthy of Brooklyn.” Steve stepped forward. “Tell me.”

“You know, I didn’t want us to meet like this.” Rumlow brought his hands up, in a faux act of surrender then slowly moved one of them forward to encourage Steve to put his weapon down. “In fact, I went through a lot of trouble to keep your pretty face away from here.”

“Not much trouble, it seems. And it sounds like you have a mole,” Steve shot back, sparing a quick glance back around the room. Russo looked away again but Steve met Castle’s eyes for a beat, then turned back to Rumlow. “Loyalty is rare around these parts.”

“Speaking of loyalty - your girl.” Rumlow stepped back and let out a long breath.

Steve matched him and stepped forward, raising his gun up once more. “If you laid one fucking hand on her–”

“I’ll tell you where she is after we chat, alright? I need a promise from you - to share the territory.”

Steve huffed, lips pursed as he scanned Rumlow’s face. “Tell me where she is.” Steve could hear Bucky shuffling behind him, metal fist clenched, growing just as impatient as Steve was.

“Nah.” Rumlow shrugged, glancing around the room. “If you won’t negotiate, my lips are sealed. I still need her, gotta clear something up with the cops. Then, I don’t know. I guess she’s nice enough on the eyes, bit thicker than what I usually go for but maybe I’ll get her to warm my bed for a–”

Steve wasn’t an idiot. Rumlow was baiting him. And god fucking damnit it worked. Steve surged ahead, letting out another growl of rage as he attacked Rumlow with his fists.

On the other side of the room, Ward slid over to kick against Bucky’s knee - angering Bucky all the same. Sam rushed in to join them at the first sound of chaos. It wasn’t quite contained and really, it didn’t come as a surprise that everyone in the room was more than prepared for a fight. Rumlow’s extra lackeys seemed more than charged enough for the action. Bucky easily took care of Ward on his own, as Sam darted between helping Steve with Rumlow and the others as Russo tried to keep his distance.

“Where is she?” Steve had Rumlow on the ground, pummeling his fists into Rumlow’s jaw. He didn’t get a response, as the sound of gunshots sounded out, ending with shards of glass flying across the floor. In a brief moment of hesitation after, Steve took in the rest of the room.

Russo had slipped out. Castle too.

“Sam!” Steve stood quickly, keeping his foot against Rumlow’s neck.

Sam hurried over and tagged in as Steve rushed through the door to follow where the other two had gone. Running towards the staircase, he looked upwards and could hear the distinct sound of hurrying feet and the slamming of a metal door.

He bounded up the stairs towards the roof.

---

The rain continued to fall, although it had at least slowed down to a cool drizzle. It didn’t mean much since you were already soaking wet, though the coat from Castle had helped. It hadn’t really fit you but the extra layer kept you marginally more comfortable, despite the fatigue and hunger setting in. Was anyone else going to check on you? Would Castle come back to help?

Did.. did Steve know what was going on? Although - how would he even find out? Fuck, you kept going over everything again and again and again. The steps you took today, the conversation you had with Sarah a few weeks ago, Steve’s last words to you at your apartment…

You wish things had gone differently. Maybe in a different life or timeline, it might have all worked out.

Gunshots.

You could hear gunshots from somewhere nearby. Downstairs in the building, maybe. Truthfully, at least up on the roof, you were away from the reality of this situation - that these people had guns and clearly weren’t afraid to use them. Up there, in the rain, you could ignore all of that.

But no, here was the glaring reminder. A few more shots sounded out then it seemed to stop. You tried to keep ignoring it, laying your back flat against the wall of the structure until you heard the door open again. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look until you heard someone barking out your name. This time the voice belonged to Russo.

A set of footsteps tracked further onto the roof, but you held your safe position. Russo finally appeared ahead of you, a scowl etched on his face. “I thought Ward tied you up. Whatever, let’s go.” He grabbed your closest wrist, urging you away from your hiding space. You tried to yank yourself away.

“Please, I don’t want to-”

“Bill - come on, can’t we just drop all this?” Frank came into your eyeline next, looking you over quickly then back towards the door. “Rogers isn’t dumb, he’ll follow us up here anyway.”

Your heart jumped at Steve’s name. He was here, he was going to get you away from this.

Russo’s grip tightened on your wrist, though he turned to look at Frank. “The plan remains the same - we need her to talk to Hammond so Rogers can land some jail time. It’s the only way we can get ahead.”

Frank let out a noncommittal sigh. “Rumlow is a fuckin’ idiot. You don’t think his plan is to screw us over later too?”

“I don’t give a shit about that right now,” Russo growled, looking back towards you. “Let’s go.”

Frank hesitated again, but didn’t argue any further. You pleaded again as they took you to the far side of the roof, where the emergency fire escape stairs were. Russo let you go momentarily as he stalked over, peering down towards the stairs.

“They should hold up, I hope” he said with a shrug, motioning his head for you to go. “Ladies first.”

You shook your head, taking a step back and glancing towards the door instead. “No, I..” You turned on your heel.

A gunshot sounded out behind you, loud and piercing. You screamed, eyes wide as you turned back. Russo was scowling again, holding his gun high as he shot it upwards into the sky. He lowered it slowly, pointing it at you directly instead. If that wasn’t enough of a warning. “Down you go. Now.”

You glanced at Frank, who remained completely stoic as he looked between you and Russo.

Suddenly, the door flew open again. You all turned to look.

A wave of relief flooded through you - it was Steve. He called your name as he walked towards you, never breaking his eye contact with you. In an instant, all your worries and doubts and everything seemed to shatter as he looked at you with such gentleness and grace.

Russo let out a hard laugh, waving his gun for a brief moment before aiming it back at you. “No time for your cute reunion. Let us walk away, Rogers.”

“Sweetheart,” Steve didn’t even bother replying to Russo, though he did stop in his tracks when he realized Russo had a gun pointed at you. But, Steve carried on, repeating your name. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, jaw shaking as you nodded.

Steve softened, for a fraction of a second. You knew he could tell you weren’t being honest. But what were you supposed to do? You were a hostage, soaking wet on a roof, with a gun pointed in your direction - no, you were not okay.

You watched as Steve transformed again, soft eyes replaced by hard lines, a tight jaw. He finally broke your gaze and turned his attention to Russo and Castle. “Let her go and we’ll all walk away from this unscathed.”

A loud laugh escaped Russo. “Right. I don’t think so. We’re walking away from this with the leverage we need.”

You watched as Steve took in a deep breath, then reluctantly put his hands up. “What do you want, Russo? Money, territory, names? What? I’ll give you whatever you want - just put your gun down and let her go.”

“You think I’m an idiot?” Russo shook his head. “No, I’m not playing this game.”

“This isn’t a fucking game,” Steve continued, reaching his hand slowly for his gun. He raised it up then just as quickly tossed it behind himself. “Please, Bill. Just leave her out of this.”

“Billy..” Frank finally spoke up too. “Let’s call it, okay? Sounds like Rogers is willing to talk and–”

“No.” Russo took a step closer to you, gun firm in hand. “No, we’re going to–”

Before you realized what was happening, you weren’t even standing on your own two feet anymore. A flurry of noises rang out around you - screaming, gunshots, shouting. Someone had wrapped their arms around you – you fell towards the ground – you landed on.. Steve. It was Steve.

He had run towards you in the action, caging you in his arms as you both landed on the rooftop together. Safe. Alive. Steve shielded you with his own body from the noise and chaos happening around you. You didn’t know who had been shooting who, if anyone escaped or made it down the fire escape. All you knew is that you were safe, in Steve’s arms.

Steve was whispering out your name, again and again, like some sort of prayer on his lips. His words were wrapped in apologies, in cries for your safety, in hushed words that begged for reassurance. As everything else seemed to quiet down, he gently pushed himself up to peer down at you.

“Sweetheart, I’m so–”

“Steve, it’s okay. I’m okay.. I’m..c-cold.”

He shook his head and quickly shifted again, standing up and helping you back to your feet, too. He shrugged off his own jacket and draped it over you. Slowly, he raised his hand and slid it down the side of your face, wiping away stray droplets of water with his thumb. His palm was warm against your cheek, you could feel his whole heart pulsing as he held you.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m–”

“Steve!” Bucky’s voice broke you both from the spell. Steve reluctantly looked away from you, pivoting slightly as he looked towards Bucky running in their direction. Across the roof, both Frank and Russo were on their knees, hands wrapped behind their backs. A makeshift bandage was wrapped around one of Russo’s biceps.

Wait, had someone shot him? It couldn’t have been Steve, he had put his gun down. Would Frank have..

Bucky leaned in slightly and mumbled into Steve’s ear, then they both looked across the roof towards the adjacent building. Bucky waved in that direction and Steve nodded, then they both turned back to you.

Before Steve could say anything else, you reached for his shirt. “Steve - you..we need to find Hercules. They said.. They..” You closed your eyes tight, head shaking as you tried to form your words. “They were going to take him somewhere to fight. I don’t know if..”

Bucky stood up tall again. He said your name firm, like a promise. “I’ll find him.”

As Bucky left, Steve wrapped his arms around you again - tighter this time. With one hand, he secured your back and the other cradled your head against his chest. He didn’t say anything and you couldn’t find any words either.

---

You were back at Steve’s apartment. You thought you’d never see those big windows overlooking Brooklyn ever again and yet, there you were. Safe.

Safe and warm, following a long shower in Steve’s guest bathroom. Stripping away your damp clothes and stealing away into the stream for longer than probably necessary had been a nice escape. Especially given that Steve had driven you back to his place in silence - though it wasn’t as awkward as before. It just felt like maybe there were things you both needed to say but couldn’t bring yourself to mention yet.

Before you had left the building earlier, Steve hadn’t let you leave his sight. Well, except for about ten minutes where Bucky hovered over you instead.

Steve brought you inside, back downstairs to that same boardroom and office space. But this time, you weren’t faced with bad guys with guns. Well, the bad guys remained but the guns were gone.

All four of them were bound and seated at a chair. Ward’s head was lolled to the side, Brock had a bloody face, Russo and Castle were mostly left without much damage. But you had a feeling that wasn’t going to last.

Steve squeezed your hand, gently turning you away from looking at them.

“Hey,” he said quietly, tipping your chin up with his thumb. “Can you tell me what happened? What they did?”

You swallowed hard, eyes wide for a moment as you considered his question. What was he going to do?

“Don’t overthink it, okay? Just tell me what you think I should know.”

You let out a breath then recounted everything. Ward ambushing you on the sidewalk, Brock threatening you, Russo joining in…

“But Frank he..” You finally spared a glance over your shoulder. Frank sat up straight in his chair, resigned to whatever fate awaited him. “He helped me. Tried to protect me, gave me his coat..”

Steve nodded, looking in Frank’s direction the same way. Steve called for Sam, then gave him another nod and Sam went to untie Frank from his chair.

It was only a few moments later that Bucky showed up with Hercules, who - thank god - looked unharmed, if a little worked up. You couldn’t help but start to cry as you broke away from Steve and rushed to your son.

But, It wasn’t lost on you how quickly Bucky led you away from the room with your dog. Or how the door shut behind you, leaving Steve and Sam in there with the rest of the men, the overlapping sounds and sounds of distress…

When you finally decided you had wasted enough water and regained all the proper feeling in your body, you shut off the water and let out a long sigh. Outside on the counter, folded neatly beside your warm towel, was some clothes you had left at Steve’s ages ago. Soft and clean layers to keep your temperature steady as you got ready for bed.

You supposed it was a choice you made - agreeing to go home with Steve instead of back to your own apartment. But you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep there - not tonight. And you knew Steve would insist on staying and keeping guard outside your door anyway. So it made more sense this way.

After you changed, you found Hercules waiting for you in the hallway. You could hear Steve in the living room, speaking quite passionately on his end of a phone call.

“Jim, this is the only deal I’m making. Proof of your dirty cop aside, I’m handing you Rumlow alive on a silver platter, even though I should have let him bleed out. So you have to do this for me. I don’t give a fuck about protocol..” There was a heavy pause. “Every instance of her name on any police report - gone. I don’t want her attached to any of it, do you understand? No trace of her. I don’t care - redact it or burn it. Get that done and I’ll deliver Rumlow to you in the morning. Understood?”

You knew you probably shouldn’t be listening, but it was your name he was mentioning.

“As for Russo, I’m dealing with that myself. But keep him on your radar. If you need another arrest to clench your win, you can have him once I’m done.”

You quietly slipped into the guest bedroom once you realized his call had ended. Once Hercules followed you in, you shut the door. Fuck. What happened now? Maybe you and Steve needed to talk about all of this - you definitely needed to talk about it.

You heard footsteps coming down the hallway towards the bedrooms and Steve stopped outside your door. You held your breath, wondering if he would say your name or knock. But - nothing. His phone buzzed again and he disappeared into his bedroom.

With a heavy sigh, you leaned against the door.

---

Mentally, Steve was exhausted.

Physically, his energy peaked in the midst of the action and hadn’t seemed to peter off yet.

You were safe, you were safe, you were safe.

Why couldn’t he calm down? You were one wall away, falling asleep. Safe. He got to you before anything critical happened. Christ, nothing should have happened in the first place.

Following his long frustrating phone call with Rhodes, he wanted to talk to you. He wanted to say everything that was weighing down his heart - but your door was closed and he couldn’t even find it in himself to knock.

You were probably even angrier with him than before - given that this was all his fault. But that was fine with him. He could deal with your anger if that meant you had any feelings towards him left. Anger counted.

He rinsed off in the shower then pulled on a pair of pajama pants before falling into bed, not that he was tired. His brain was wired and maybe an allnighter was in his future.

Steve sent off a few last messages to Bucky and Sam, then discarded his phone on the nightstand. He leaned back against the headboard and–

There was a knock at his bedroom door. You were knocking. He swung his legs off the bed and hurried to open the door, just as you were about to push it open yourself.

“Hi,” you said quietly, meeting his eyes in the low light streaming in from his lamp.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, scanning you for any signs of distress.

You shrugged, drawing in a deep breath. Then Steve took a step back, waving his arm to invite you in. You released your lungs slowly, nodding and following him inside. Wordlessly, he climbed into the bed and offered the open blanket to you, arms wide. You just nodded again, crawling in and finding a spot - your spot - underneath his arms.

---

CHAPTER 07 - CHAPTER 09

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x plus sized reader #steve rogers x you #mob boss steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers au #story: sink into me #simmerandcry #simmerandwrite

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hobies-princealbert · 8 months

Note

Hi!! Omg i wanna say ur hc’s and fics are sooo good whaaat pls pat urself on the back bc u ate that!!!? I really enjoyed your fontaine bf hcs but i was wondering if u could do some nsfw bf hcs for him. Hes just so 😫😫😫😫

awwww yall go make me blush. thank you very much though it's means alot that to you enjoy my works.

ﾟ+.ヽ(≧▽≦)ﾉ.+ﾟ

"taine, you a down bad munch" | fontaine x reader (nsfw)

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♡▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♡▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♡▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♡▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♡▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♡▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♡▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

♡ fontaine is versatile when it comes to sex. whatever you want, as long as he's down he'll do it. can be rough as hell if you want. he's talking hand prints on your ass, running mascara, bruised hips, raspy screams. all you gotta do is give him the go ahead.

♡ can also be very sappy when you need him to be. not candle light and rose petals sappy. but he'll hold your hand, kiss your wrists, rub your back, just anything you need to get you closer to release. he'll do it. after all, he's here's to make his girl feel good, and he wouldn't be able to get a good night's sleep knowing you weren't at least shedding a couple tears by the time he's done.

♡ he loves to talk his shit. if your shy and don't say much, don't worry he'll get a couple words outta you. he's a big tease too, and will edge you for hours just for you to say one word. he wants you confident enough to ask for what you want, and what you don't want from him. he really does prioritize communication alot.

♡ if you already love to talk your shit, he'll be putty in your hands. loves someone who can boss him around every now and then. tell him where to touch and how to touch, he'll adore you.

♡ loves when you get really soft on him. stroke his cheek, kiss all over his face, even tell him you love him. hell, it's enough to make a nigga blush.

♡ loves car sex. will pull into an alleyway, day or night, and have your heels digging into his dash board. it's a tight space, little to no distractions, and semi public, all the things that gets his motor going (pun intended).

♡ a veteran munch. and he's gangsta enough to admit it. and if someone call him corny, he'll just laugh. cuz he knows a nigga that can't get pussy ain't running his mouth about it. you loveee his munch tendencies, even when he gets the itch at the most inopportune times.

you opened the door to your apartment, just to see taine standing in the hallway. you stare at him confused for a bit, cause wtf. "taine? what the hell you doin' here, it's almos' one in the damn morning?"

"i texted you earlier sayin' 'm comin' over, didn't i?" he did. but that was earlier in the day. once it passed 10pm you thought he got caught up with something, so you took your ass to bed. but you should've known better, taine always keeps his word.

not even giving you time to cuss his ass out, a pair of familiar hands grabbed at your waist, and lifted you off the ground. he kicked the door close, placed you on the nearest soft surface he could find. as you felt your legs being lifted onto his shoulders, you knew exactly why he was here now.

"taine, you a down bad munch" you smirked as he grumbles how tight these damn shorts are, as he desperately tries to get them off.

"yea yea talk all the shi' you wan'. hope you can stil' talk all that' shi' by the time I'm done"

♡ fucking panty thief. what can he say he has a thing for keeping souvenirs, especially if it was a good fuck. he has no shame with it. will slide them down your legs while he's getting dressed, and just stuffs them into his back pocket. and he don't wanna hear it. not like you can protest anyways, you're too fucked out to agrue with him.

♡ loves loves loves when you leave marks on him. the man has a possession kink, that's for sure. bite marks on his shoulders, hickeys on his neck and scratches all over his forearms and back. the man wears them like a badge on honor. And if anyone asks, he grows the most shit eating grin and tell em his girl left him some keepsakes.

♡ and speaking of possessive. if you're in a situationship with this man, or yall haven't cuffed each other yet, either way don't you even think about dealing with another nigga. taine would never be able to tolerate the idea of another dick drilling into your cunt. as far as he's concerned, he's the only one who knows how to make you feel good. good enough to make a blabbering, shaking mess of yourself.

♡ is his girl that greedy that he alone can't satisfy her? well shit, guess he gonna have to convince you other wise. cause to him, with way your cunt clenches around him, she knows he's the only one for you. but it's like your brain hasn't got the memo yet. don't worry he'll fix it.

(and if he ever found that man you fucking with, guess he's breaking another pair of legs. he doesn't like sharing. at all. just the idea pisses him off already.)

♡ his aftercare is decent. he's not to be overly affectionate post nut. he doesn't mind a nice cuddle session though. and he's sweet enough to remember to carry you to the bathroom, so you can pee.

"want some water? sure thing ma"

"hungry? what ya feeling for baby, want me to order take out or sumthin'?"

♡ he'll even have a warm, damp towel on hand to wipe you down, if you want him to.

#fontaine x reader #they cloned tyrone #fontaine x black reader #fontaine they cloned tyrone #this is the most ive ever gone into detail on this man #damn #i hope i didnt make him do too mucn since taine is a simple ass man at best #☆° via writes °☆

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marksbear · 1 year

Note

Just had a thought and immediately ran to your blog, ok so- sugar daddy Aaron Hotchner x sugar baby reader where Aaron’s been paying the reader for companionship and shit and maybe Derek and Penelope get suspicious that he’s seeing someone and they go snooping and find out about the reader and so they try and contact him and they find out through the reader that Hotch is actually his sugar daddy and their just like “HOLY FU—“

Idk if this is a good request but it just came to mind so feel free to entertain my weird thoughts or don’t🤷 ❤️‍🔥

OHH YEAHH I LOVE THIS THOUGHT THANK YOU FOR SHARING WITH ME @prismuffin! Gonna do headcanons and a oneshot at the same time because I'm like that.

Warnings: U/n= University name H/c= Hair color, implied sex, Sugar daddy and baby, gentle hotch, Nosy Penelope and Derek, Y/n is a uni student. Y/n and his friends flirt and kiss on each other but FULLY PLATONIC, flirty reader to his friends.

SUGAR DADDY AARON HOTCH X SUGAR BABY MALE READER.

Your three roomates dragged you to some rich fancy party. Most people who were there are police, firefighters, veterans and current soldiers. You didn't know how you were dragged in like you were a broke college that majoring film with lots of your friends.

At first you didn't wanna go because like I said you were broke barely surviving university financially. A lot of times you and your roommates combine money just to go to places and eat. And goes to parties stuffing whatever into your shirts and bags like drinks and sometimes food in containers.

So when your friend invited here you said a blunt no. "It's not because I don't want to...It's because there are a lot of fancy people there with their dresses and suits. I don't wanna go there and be the odd one out." You say to your friend Jules. She smiled at your answer and went to her closest opening and pulled out a fancy suit.

"I knew you were gonna say that so I asked a certain someone to buy me this." She laughs and sits on the bed next to you placing the newly bought suit in your lap. You glance at the price tag and let out a gasp "350!? Jules what the hell who do you know!?!" Jules smirks at you and stands up giving her hand to you waiting for you to take it. "Baby, come with me then i'll show you the guy who bought me this. And if we get lucky you'll find your own guy like mine." She looks at you with pleading eyes and you sigh taking the hand and her squealing pulling you off the couch rushing into the bathroom with you.

Once yall get dressed together in the bathroom and check yall selves out you both step out showing off yall looks to the other roommates who just joined. All of you are dressed and ready to go all of you hyping each other up before walking out the door yall join hands walking outside. "Is that a fucking limo!" You shout looking at Jules who's giggling pulling the group inside of the car. Once all of you are set you begin to drive to the life changing party. Jules words. One of the roommates John takes your guys pictures and posts them online just having a great time.

Yall arrived and walked up the steps staring at awe at the large house. Jules looks at all of you telling each one of you to take a deep breath and all of you do what she says and give each other one last big squeeze with your hands before walking in the party.

The party is busy and some parts of the part segregated from different jobs like firefighters with their own people and soldiers with each other. You begin to feel nervous like you and your roommates are the only people who are young really and don't have a single lived saved badge. Since the whole party probably saved a life before it begins to make you feel like you don't belong. You glance at your third roommate Quin and take her hand as support. Quin was always your emotional support buddy ( Fun fact she makes lots of short films about the group and their problems.) Quin quickly interlocks her hand with yours leading through the party looking for a decent spot to drink at. You two find a quiet bar and sit at ordering drinks and having a calm conversation. You and Quin stay there for a good nineteen minutes before getting found by Jules and her kidnapping dragging you two away from there and into a private booth.

Jules quickly sits yall down and you turn to see John sipping on his drink looking at the two of you smiling. All four of y'all sit together chatting up a storm with loud laughs and screams. You all crack jokes and tease each other until some women and men come into the booth looking very serious. "So juley these are the people you always talk about?" One of the men asks staring at you,Quin and john all three of you side eyeing each other trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

"Yes! Wasn't I right they're the cutest!" Jules squeals out walking towards the man who's talking and sitting on his lap. "Especially Y/n! Hes the cutest out of all of us!" Jules says smiling at her friend who has not a clue of what's going on in his face. All of the women and men turn their gaze to Y/n. Y/n leans back into the seat leaning on Quin a little who is smirking at him.

All of the women and men seem to study Y/n once they're all done they all look and nod at each other approving. Jules giggles and gets off the man's lap and skips towards her friends sitting back down with them. Jules introduces everyone to each other. You didn't bother at trying to remember all of their names but one had stuck out to you. "Here is Agent Hotchner..." You didn't listen to the rest of your mind only focusing on the man. You stare at him in awe you never had seen someone so handsome like him before. Your heart begins to pound and your chest flutters and your body begins to feel hot staring at him. You feel like a teenager again palms sweating and mind rushing. You never believed in love in first sight but this time you wonder if it is true.

Then suddenly his sharp and dominant eyes shoot back at you making heavy eye contact. You flinch back and stand up rather quickly excusing yourself and rush out the booth. Leaving your three roommates confused until John lets a "Ohhh..." When John says oh the other two light bulbs switch on and they all giggle about Y/n and tease him about his childish acts. "Is he okay?" One of the women says being confused at the trio seems calm after their fourth member rushing out of the booth. "It's a normal thing for him. Him crushing on someone until they make eye contact and running like hes a deer when spooked." John answers with a laugh teasing the deer like man.

Hotch excuses himself out of the booth and walks around looking for Y/n. He sees the h/c enter a bathroom. Hotch quickly follows inside and locks the door behind him. "Someones in here!- oh its you..." Y/n says shyly. He was just washing his face trying to calm down but efforts were wasted when hes alone with the man again feeling all hot and shy again. "Do you want me to go?" Hotch offers but quickly gets told no.

The pair get into a silence with lots of romantic and sexual tension in the room. "So why is a uni film maker doing in a party like this?" Hotch asks getting closer to Y/n and leaning on the wall. Y/n swallows deeply and shyly tilts his head away from Hotch. "Well Jules dragged me here. One for free food and drinks. Second she wanted me and my other roommates to meet someone special to her and if we were lucky i'll find my own that what she said at least in her words." Hotch hums and thinks for a second before taking his large hand cupping your jaw and forcing you softly to look at him. You slowly look up into his eyes in awe staring at his features up close.

"I guess you were lucky today. How about we make a deal? You be my companion like my boyfriend. Your job is simple take care of my needs and sometimes treat each other like we are a couple. In return you can get a five-hundred pay each week and everything you want in your dreams okay?" Y.n thinks about it and says "I aspect the deal. Like your my sugar daddy." You giggle and kiss the tip of his nose. Aaron kisses the top of your head and wraps his arms around you cradling you.

HEADCANONS NOW!!

You sitting on Hotch lap every time you have to take a seat. And always choosing Hotch straddling his leg or sitting on his lap fully. He always pull you to his lap even though it can be like seven open seats.

Him and you taking faceless pictures all of the time. Hotch feels kinda insecure of his face always getting told he looked scary or mean. So you thought of a way so it doesn't make him uncomfortable when you take pictures of him. And plus you both look hot together in the pictures like you sitting in his lap while his veiny hand on your thigh. Makes the two of you look hot when you post it and everything.

He buys you clothes that go with your style or aesthetic. Like if you wear street wear or something like in the 90s or 80s he'll buy it out of kindness.

Trying to keep your relationship hidden from the team. You both don't mind showing pda at all and actually you both are quite seen as a handsy couple. But he just doesn't want his nosy co-workers to be in his business all of the time.

Him teaching you how to defend yourself and his worst fear is seeing you in a case as an unsub or a victim. It's one of the other few things that keeps him awake at night so that's one of the main reasons why he tries to keep you away from his work.

You babysit jack when hes away at work so it kinda pushes the boundary of just Sugar daddy and sugar baby. To which that you both don't mind pushing the boundary it makes the both of you feel closer together and let other hidden feelings out.

He sends you food and clothes and other things you enjoy when hes gone for a while.

You and him go to fancy dates and places as dates but when you both feel lazy yall have a picnic or an in-home date. And sometimes go out for lunch between work or going to the movies.

He probably likes taking those aesthetic couple pictures like the ones you see on tiktok a lot. It makes him feel that he caught up to the trends with you. It makes you happy so hes happy.

OKAY BACK TO THE ONE-SHOT

Y/n and Hotch have been doing the deal for a couple months now everything is running smoothly with no arguments or anything toxic. Hotch had to leave work with an excuse that "Jack needs me" Which wasn't a total lie. The messy duo Derek and Penelope felt like something fishy was going on and left in secret to follow their boss. Once Aaron arrived at a McDonald's he walked inside fast. Derek and Penelope give each other a look before putting on a childish disguise before heading in. They walked in just in time to see Aaron wrap his arms around a smaller man kissing him deeply. And pull away once they hear Jack shout "Ewww! dad and papa!" Penelope mouth drops the floor and takes pictures of the unknown man and Derek pulls his shades down a little making sure hes seeing what Penelope is seeing.

They spend thirty minutes there until the family gets up leaving the fast food place. Derek and Penelope hurries off to the window spying on them. Hotch bends down and gives Jack a big huge kissing his head before standing up taking the unknown man's waist before pulling him into a makeout. The couple pulls away when they hear Jack whining about going home. The couple pulled away getting into a quick hug before going into their separate ways. Penelope and Derek bolt out of the place and get into the car driving to work passing the speed limit. The duo makes it there before Hotch and they go to Penelope bat cave. Penelope loads up pictures of Y/n and does research on him

"His name is Y/n m/n L/n hes a junior in U/n and majoring in Film. Hes been arrested once for fighting and jumping the people he jumped with are John lakey, Quin beck and Jules McLean and them three are his current roommates." Penelope proceeds to dig deeper on him going into his social media stalking him and gasping a little when she sees the huge amount of followers. "These pictures are...erotic.

Always faceless with a lewd or romantic poses." Penelope says pointing at the veins. "Thats boss man's hands." Derek says leaning in closer to the screen."Never knew he was into those types of young men." Penelope checks Y/n following and hes only following one person. She clicks on it and the user name is called "The only4" It has even a bigger amount of following. The pictures and videos are just Y/n and his roommates. "They seem to be close." Derek says point at a video where Jules and Y/n are making out. "Do you think they're a y'know?" Penelope says scrolling down on their pictures and videos and stops at one letting out an exaggerated gasp. The picture is the four of them sitting on a people who looks rich and tough but faces are blurred out leaving only the roommates faces are seen. Penelope zooms in on Y/n and shows Derek Hotch watch hes wearing. Derek hears footsteps and quickly shuts off everything. "Hotch has a sugar baby! WHAT THE FUCK!" Penelope whisper shouts at Derek. "Holy hell, the big man got some game." Derek whispers back looking at Penelope back. The door opens by Spencer saying that we got a case.

At the round table Penelope has to show some information to the team with her laptop. No problem for her only that she forgot to close out of Y/n Instagram. She connects the laptop to the TV to present and she opens her laptop. And the whole team gasped. The TV screen is showing Y/n shirtless wear saggy pants and a cowboy hat while Jules is kissing his neck. The team room gets quiet when Hotch opens the door staring at the screen confused and puzzled. He looks at the team then looks at Penelope and Derek looking guilty together.

"Garcia and Morgan my office now!"

#x male reader #criminal minds x male reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x male reader #the bear club

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beauregardlionett · 27 days

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absolutely devastated to wake up this morning and find my booping abilities are gone. my paw badges make me feel like some decorated veteran.

#i missing booping all you fools <3 #but it's probably for the best my productivity yesterday was abysmal #boop #love you all mwah

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artcalledtattoo · 1 year

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I’ve never been ... when it comes to Passion Ask a Lady friend I would say A partner sort of speak in present A love needed in a place Regardless in present mis guidance Stomping out a try for two thousand and almost 23 years a blame applaud to a name Cover thy heads 100 years plus suffrage Minus missed years And now Don’t own bodies He washed the feet of defiled you Why the cause for making ends meet We need to be like them And get the money’s A sticker said He paid for Sins And Kings living I see That’s been a way for 2022 years And no still comeback He never stood still, he walked in missed years most likely further than Roman Empire and like home the other Asian learned how to corral and control in early kingdom states walked first He went back home with messages Crucifix end to tales Thinks every where just like at home Stop being instilled To all and everyone Corporate appall like in Paul Cover your heads now Like you made them It sits in the Bible Us to be better Will bring a second comeback If He is in foot prints, then you must be walking Just like Shadowing mankind for better Seems real to me It’s for the all universe of US Everyone planet Earth Or home Quit standing still waiting Make a walk for a return The whole world of God Not your residential city Small spheres Dots I’m a different • I see life All around me It’s everyday in my awakened occurrence In this experience and passions for as I learn more all things in my present Thank you, my God for my feelings with things perhaps I’m brain inefficient and I just don’t know yet I awake from each day after dreaming thanking for the continued experienced as I keep walking even when I hate it at times Doing my best for an awakening return It would be the Badge Certificate Grade of all people prize, for all mankind The trophy to live hop and bounce around the whole Universe We have all seen if we’ve had travels around the Globe from our home state of affairs, drop of water to an ocean of worldly concerns or at least for a hope return Wait, it all has to come to a nothing, leaders in charge and at their worst To save us What show banks statements Have you bought into but into the investment of present affairs This human chaos Is not Science It’s as walk each day US and the whole watching everything now of World Like a Constitution Religion needs revamped Everything done from here down in my posts are my passions those other blogs too I have to scroll down to 2 tiger to bottom Arts of war in minded present walking Am I sound of mind w/ American Pharmaceutical American TV American Churches American Conglomerate American Politics American Virus’s American Parental’s American Residential American Homeless I’m an American Veteran, bullyied in southern belts and belts of southwest that’s still in wear western style it’s all so saucy like condiments & kinds, I joined military and found all the same likes, ventured in ono and one and found the same there, my life is just made more of the same continues I’ve never been standing still when it comes to passions Science - walking is body beneficial How else to make impressions by your own feet? LIFE A must in experience if not then stay still. No one can make you A whole wide God made Planet we named Earth ourselves and it’s unsafe to move amongst all humans Most likely not as any Universal Power God Would have wanted We humans humanize ourselves in all things and we did then too For further higher human control power It’s all in history books Take a walk and start thinking Like hearing a tornado siren for practice After the other community tornado They just learned Sounding off The horns Listen too: Carmina Burana, by Carl Orff, the ending bit for background music while reading!

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 6 months

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By: Ryan Burge

Published: Jun 22, 2023

Which group is the most ostracized in America? If you grew evangelical like I did, you were told that conservative Christians were the most marginalized group in American society. It was almost a badge of honor. I can’t tell you how many times I heard preachers quote James 1:12, “Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test.” If you are being persecuted, it means you are living boldly for Jesus.

However, I think at least some of that persecution was (and is) imagined. At least that’s the conclusion I’ve arrived at after seeing a bunch of disparate pieces of data from a variety of sources over the last decade or so.

When it comes down to it, I think the most empirically defensible conclusion is that atheists face more persecution and animus in American society than another other “religious” group.

Let’s start with some data from the American National Election Study. They asked a series of questions back in 2012 that provides some illumination. A feeling thermometer asks respondents to place a bunch of groups on a scale ranging from 0 (meaning very cold) to 100 (meaning very warm). A score of fifty represents ambivalence. I subdivided this by political partisanship, too.

Working class people are beloved, along with the military. So, if you are a working-class veteran - the world is your oyster. Also, the middle-class scores well, too. There are a bunch of religious groups in these thermometer questions - that is great for our purposes.

Which religious group scores the highest? Christians, easily. Among Democrats, the average is 68. It’s 65 for Independents. For Republicans it’s 78. That’s higher than Democrats rank the military. Catholics score a bit lower, but still are far above average ranging from 54 to 65.

There are several groups who score below the midpoint, though. Muslims score 49.6 for Democrats and just 38 for Republicans. Mormons are pretty much in the same range, as well.

How about atheists?

Democrats put them around 43. That’s just 1 point higher than their score for Christian fundamentalists. Atheists score 39 for Independents and 33 for Republicans. That puts them in the same category as the federal government and Congress. Great company!

It’s completely fair to say that no religious group faces more universal disdain than atheists.

Here’s another look at this using data from the Pew Research Center. I really like the setup for this question. It’s, “how would you feel if a member of your immediate family was going to marry…”

The two options they present are:

1. A born-again Christian 2. Someone who doesn’t believe in God.

I am just showing the share who said “unhappy” here and keep in mind that this data is from 2014.

About half of Americans would be unhappy if a close family member married an atheist. That’s crazy high! In comparison about one in ten folks would be upset if their family member married a born-again Christian. Pretty hard to square those numbers with the narrative about evangelical persecution. To be fair, 57% of people said that it wouldn’t matter if the person that was joining their family was born-again, but that’s a lot more ambivalence than outright anger.

Who would be the most upset? Christians, primarily. 77% of white evangelicals don’t want an atheist in their family, it’s 67% of Black Protestants and 55% of Catholics. Mainline Protestants are the hold outs - only 46% don’t want their family member to marry an atheist.

Here’s what I think is really interesting, though. Among non-religious people, there’s not a clear answer about who is worse: an atheist or an evangelical. For instance, 28% of atheist/agnostics don’t want their family member to marry an evangelical. But 13% don’t want them to marry an atheist, either. Among nothing in particulars, they would actually be more likely to be upset if an atheist joined the family compared to an evangelical.

What about some more recent data, though? In November of 2022, YouGov polled 1000 respondents about their feelings on 35 religious groups. They include the whole gamut here from Protestants to Satanists. A lot of folks rightfully didn’t know much about some of these groups, so I excluded them from the analysis. These are just people who had an opinion one way or the other.

No one likes Scientology. Well, actually just 12% of America. Given the recent spate of exposes and documentaries about the group, it kind of makes sense. Fundamentalist Latter-Day Saints aren’t really popular either. Having your prophet arrested and convicted for sexual abuse of children which was detailed in a popular Netflix series may have some bearing on those views.

Islam and the Latter-day Saints are seen fairly equally by the public - about 42% unfavorable and 20% favorable.

Atheists score just slightly better than that. 38% of Americans have an unfavorable view of them, while 24% are favorable. But nearly forty percent are ambivalent. Agnostics are a bit more liked. Their unfavorables are just 29%. But their favorables are 24%, which is no different than atheists.

The only mainstream Christian group that comes close to that level is the Southern Baptist Convention. Their unfavorables are 33% compared to just 27% who are favorable toward the SBC.

The General Social Survey also asked about atheists in the 2018 wave, and the results aren’t really as stark as I would have guessed based on the other data.

34% of Democrats have a positive opinion of atheists, compared to just 23% who have a negative view. Republicans are the exact opposite of that - 34% negative/23% positive. But there’s another way to look at this: two-thirds of Republicans don’t express a negative view of atheists. That’s not what I would describe as overwhelming disdain. There may be some social desirability bias or even acquiescence bias happening here, but I still think this finding tempers the conversation just a bit.

But I wanted to leave you with one more data point from the PRRI 2019 American Values Survey. This question is not posed about atheists specifically but gives another perspective on this issue. The statement is, “It is necessary to believe in God in order to be moral and have good values.”

The only group where a majority agree with that statement is white evangelicals. In the entire sample, it’s just 41% are in favor. I just don’t think that huge majorities of Americans think that atheists are immoral folks. They just don’t like atheists that much as a social group. Which seems hard to square, but that’s public opinion.

For what it’s worth, I think that all these persecution narratives are a really important part of social group cohesion and that’s why they will continue.

It all started to make sense a bit more when I read this great book by Christian Smith called American Evangelicalism: Embattled and Thriving. In it, he uses survey data and interviews to argue that evangelicalism has grown so much and become so influential in the larger culture primarily because it continues to engage mainstream society on a regular basis. As Smith explains it, fundamentalists are fine being pious in their own enclaves, while evangelicals want to transform the world for Christ.

Obviously, American society rejects those advances more often than not and that provides evangelicals substantial fodder for the persecution narrative. That story they tell themselves makes them feel embolden to continue their kingdom building quest - the struggle means it’s worth it. But the constant tension with the world at large also deepens the social ties they feel with each other and increases social cohesion. That’s a pretty good motivation for this rhetoric to continue. For both evangelicals and atheists.

[ Via: https://archive.li/A7c3m ]

#Ryan Burge #atheism #religion #no religion #irreligion #discrimination against atheists #religion is a mental illness

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louisupdates · 6 months

Text

Louis Tomlinson Talks ‘Rough’ Treatment From Fans

Lars Brandle | 10/26/2023

As a member of One Direction and solo artist, Louis Tomlinson has seen more tears and wailing than a veteran midwife. Sometimes, that hysteria shifts into overdrive, with gripping, shirt-ripping and knocks to the body.

The British pop singer is used to wearing bruises as badges, the result of close encounters with overeager fans, he tells Australia’s commercial radio network Nova.

Leaning into the pit, “it’s by far my favorite part of the show,” he shares with Nova host Smallzy. “The minute you walk out to stage you feel that adrenaline. But literally the closer you get to the crowd, the more of that adrenaline you feel and by the end of the show, yeah I get down in the pit and just kind of immerse myself. And that feeling is absolutely amazing.”

There’s a line, he admits. And it’s sometimes crossed. “I kind of like getting in there and it feeling a little bit rough. I like that. That’s part of it. When they start ripping the clothes off me, it gets a little bit on top, you know? But yeah, is what it is.”

Zooming in from a rainy Berlin, one stop on his current European tour, Tomlinson reveals he’s “got a fat bruise on the back of the arm from the from the other night,” all because “some girl got me in the grip.”

Tomlinson also discusses his star turn in the feature-length documentary, All of Those Voices, which dropped on Paramount + earlier this month. There’s times in the life of a pop star “when it’s been incredibly liberating and times when it’s been tough as well. I’m hoping it gives an honest portrayal of that,” he explains. Was anything cut from the final edit? “Maybe some bad banter or shit jokes,” he quips.

The former 1D star also answers a smattering of fan questions — does he read DMs from randoms (occasionally), will there be a live album or new rock version of “Back to You” (no comment, but he does hint at something in the works), and the song he’s most proud of (“Saturdays.” There’s “something about it live, it feels special”).

Tomlinson’s tour reaches home soil next month for a run of U.K. and Ireland arena shows, in support of Faith In The Future, his second solo album.

Faith In The Future debuted at No. 1 on the Official U.K. Albums Chart last November, for his first solo leader and fifth including his work as a member of One Direction. In the United States, Faith In The Future debuted at No. 2 on Billboard’s Top Album Sales, and at No. 5 on the all-genre Billboard 200, his highest-charting set yet on both tallies.

#louis tomlinson #louis press #billboard article #26.10.2023 #fitfwt23: australia

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einsteinsugly · 5 days

Text

Friday, July 4, 1986. A Way Better Fourth of July.

*****

4:30 pm

Hot dogs, cheeseburgers, macaroni salad. American flags, Bruce Springsteen...

Hyde inevitably lowers his voice, to a jaded whisper. "The song doesn't mean what you think it means."

Down in the shadow of the penitentiary

Out by the gas fires of the refinery

I'm ten years old, burning down the road

Nowhere to run, ain't got nowhere to go

Kitty, as sharp as a knife, anxiously nudges him. And Jackie swiftly follows suit, as they both hush the seeds of a quiet rebellion. "Shh."

Ignorance is bliss, as Red serves the main course. And Eric serves the macaroni salad.

"I made this, with my very own hands."

Kitty lovingly chuckles. "You used my recipe."

"Well..." Eric nervously laughs. "You got me there, Mom."

The two youngest, away from the gingham-clad picnic table, are happily gurgling in a large playpen. A quiet, raven-haired girl with big blue eyes, and a tiny, curious redhead. The eldest couple's grandbabies, by adoption and by blood.

The older two grandbabies, an olive-skinned boy and a sweet, adorable brunette with blue ribbons in her hair, are munching on small pieces of hot dog and are poking at macaroni salad with plastic forks.

The oldest grandbaby, a seven year old, is reluctantly in the midst of the adults. She feels like she's standing alone, though. The rest of the kids are literal babies, and she's just sort of...there.

But Betsy Kelso takes her duty as watcher very seriously. She even crafted a makeshift badge out of duct tape, just like her dad's.

Like her father, she is prone to hyperbole. "Kate's trying to eat a dandelion."

Eric and Donna nervously glance a few feet over, but are immediately relieved. Instead, Kate has simply picked a dandelion, and is turning it round, and round, and round...

Becca, a few months older and wiser, looks at her like she has two heads. "Gah."

"Aren't they adorable?" Kitty proudly gushes, hand firmly on her heart. "My grandbabies."

Red gruffly groans, but his old heart quietly melts. "You've said that a million times."

"It doesn't make it any less true, Red." Becca is now anxiously crawling around, leaving Kate at a wobbly standstill. "Look, she's exploring."

"She's the one that you need to watch," Red cautions, turning to Jackie and Hyde, "She'll eat the damn...darn dandelions."

Betsy, the fervent watcher, proudly sounds the alarm. "Pop said a bad word!"

Kelso chuckles, as the word "dumbass" is at the tip of Red's tongue. "Get used to it, Bets."

*****

5:00 pm

Dinner is officially over, but the American flags are still fluttering in the breeze. And Bruce Springsteen is still blasting.

Glory days

Well, they'll pass you by, glory days

In the wink of a young girl's eye, glory days

Glory days

Meanwhile, Red and Kitty are proudly perched in lawn chairs, happily clinking their glasses together.

The aging blonde smiles. "You know, I bought that Lee Greenwood cassette."

"God Bless the USA" is a bit corny, even for a proud veteran like him. "I can write a better song than that."

"I'd like to see you try," Kitty lovingly challenges, "I think it's profound. 'And I won't forget the men who died, who gave that right to me.'"

"I'd list all the wars." Far from a creative soul, Red concocts a simple list. "Revolutionary, 1812, Mexican-American, Civil..."

She shakes her head. "That doesn't sound like a good song."

"Lee Greenwood isn't even a damn veteran," He gruffly declares, "He's like Eric."

Kitty spies, with her little eye, an adorable little diversion. Hyde and Eric are lying in the playpen, with Hyde propelling a happily squealing Becca in the air, and with Kate lying on Eric's chest.

Then, in a split second, she's back to ground zero. The uncomfortable trenches. "There haven't been any wars for him to fight."

"You know he wouldn't join."

"Well, he'd join the most important ones," Kitty amply defends, before reluctantly acquiscing, "You know he's lippy about 'Nam."

"Don't remind me." He briefly diverts, as Eric compares Becca to the Millennium Falcon. Then, he shakes his head in disdain. "He thinks the Star Wars program is a disgrace to Star Wars."

Kitty sighs, but while happily kicking the can down the road. A tiny pebble, beneath her shoe. "He still hasn't gotten over that Luke and Leia thing."

Red's foot anxiously taps to the rhythm. "Don't remind me."

*****

5:30 pm

He doesn't know why the hell he put in that damn Lee Greenwood cassette.

If tomorrow all the things were gone

I worked for all my life

And I had to start again

With just my children and my wife

Hyde is muttering something rebellious. Eric is nervously shaking his foot to the rhythm. Laurie is...who the hell knows where.

But at least his two sons are there. He doesn't agree with a lot of their politics, or like a lot of their music, but they're good men.

They surmounted the odds. Hyde isn't dead, roaming in a motorcycle gang, or in prison. Eric is still lippy, and still loves Star Wars, but he doesn't let it define his life. He tries to be the hero of the South Side of Chicago, in his own, weird way.

And because of them, their granddaughters are proudly perched on their laps. He has Becca, and Kitty has Kate. Kitty Jr, of course.

All the while, Becca is sleeping in his arms, as the former basement dwellers lovingly coo.

And predictably, so is Kitty. "You think you're Oscar the grouch, but you're not."

He can't help but smile. "I guess my life isn't garbage, huh?"

In turn, she lovingly kisses him on the cheek. "I'd say it's pretty damn good."

*****

If you want to join the random date generator game, click here!

#that 70s show #that 90s show #red and kitty #red forman #kitty forman #eric forman #steven hyde #betsy kelso #jackie and hyde #eric and donna #my fics #game time #my ficlets #kelso and brooke

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literaticat · 1 year

Note

Is it better to include an elevator pitch or not in a query? As an example, if the query is three paragraphs plus a bio, should it also have a one sentence elevator pitch at the top - do you recommend that or is it optional/doesn't matter either way? Which is better - elevator pitch, 3 paragraphs describing book, then bio, sign off or 3 paragraphs describing book (or 2 in some cases), bio, sign off, no one sentence pitch at top? I feel an agent might just read the first line then decide?

I have no questions in the inbox, but this was sitting in drafts for like -- a year? Haha. Sorry, original asker! I'm going to put this in the FAQ under Querying, as it's sort of the definitive "this is what you put in a query" answer, I think.

To answer your question: There are a lot of people who have a lot of rules and tips for queries, and here's what they DON'T usually tell you:

It doesn't really matter what order you put the elements of your query in, or three paragraphs vs two, or whatever whatever. Just include all the information we ask for and make it short enough to fit on a page. These are the ONLY two "technical" rules. Other than that - we just want it to be compelling. We want it to make us want to read the book. So make it how you like it! What sounds good to YOU?

Now. What you are calling the "elevator pitch", I'd call a log-line actually. I consider an elevator pitch to be something you are delivering in person - like if somebody asks, "hey what is your book about", your answer is nutshell elevator pitch. A log-line is a little shorter -- just the very top-of-the-treeline description about what we are about to look at.

Personally, if I were writing a query letter, I'd probably go like this:

Salutation: Dear so-and-so,

Short intro paragraph: I'm querying you for A REASON / I met you at A PLACE, etc. I'm delighted to share TITLE, a CATEGORY complete at WORDCOUNT about LOGLINE.

About the Book: 1 to 3 paragraphs. Mine would probably be two paragraphs: ONE paragraph about the book, expanding the log-line, ANOTHER short paragraph to wrap up the first paragraph as necessary.

Bio: Previous publications if applicable, if not just a little something about yourself.

Sign off: With social media handles, etc.

For example:

#1 - Salutation

#2 - Intro

I have such fun listening to your podcast, and when I saw on social media that you are a sloth fan, I figured it was kismet and I should send this your way! SLOTH COPS is a twisty MG whodunit complete at 60,000 words, about two polar opposite sloth police detectives who must team up if they are to have a hope of catching the mysterious tortoise murderer plaguing their city.

#3, flesh that logline out:

Captain of the Sloth Squad Callisto Jenkins is an experienced veteran on the force; she's seen it all in her day, and has the gallows humor to prove it. Officer Stormy McNair is a rookie on the beat, desperate to make his bones as detective and prove to every doubter that so-called "bad sloths" like him CAN solve crimes. A foolish mistake during an investigation causes Callisto to take Stormy's badge and gun away and consign him to desk duty, but the hothead rookie can't stand being benched and figures out a way to get involved with Callisto's last case before retirement -- the case of the Tortoiseville Strangler.

#3.5, close out the pitch part:

The strangler doesn't take kindly to sloth cops on his turf, and Stormy and Callisto soon find themselves embroiled in a case that is much bigger and more sinister than they could have imagined. It will take Callisto's patience and dedication to the hunt combined with Stormy's brazen attitude and quick wit to get them out of the Strangler's lair with their necks intact, and put the shadowy tortoise killer behind bars where he belongs.

#4 Bio :

I'm Fiona Q Whittlestone, and I'm a professional private detective, which sadly, is a lot less exciting day-to-day than movies would have you believe! I live in Palm Springs, CA, with a 100 year old Desert Tortoise named Ambrose who, as far as I know, has never committed a crime. SLOTH COPS is my first novel.

#5: Sign-Off

Now - 1 and 5 obviously have to stay where they are. In my opinion, 2/3/4 make the most sense in that order, and that's about the right amount of room for them. But if you wanna do a hooky log-line, then the about, then the nuts-and-bolts -- that's fine! If you'd rather introduce yourself THEN put the description of the book and then the nuts and bolts -- or you need only one paragraph for the book -- or you need three paragraphs for the book but it still fits on one page -- that's fine! We just need all the info, and we need it on one page. That's it.

#querying an agent #query tip

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gethellbcnt · 3 months

Text

BELPHEGOR - HEADCANON : GUINEA PIG PROJECT ( GPP )

how does Belphegor have time to test all their drugs, from the good 'ol reliables to the newly-created ? well, they DON'T ! and this is how the Guinea Pig Program came to be !

here in the Guinea Pig Program, or GPP for short, hellborns and imps can lend their bodies and minds in the name of furthering the progression of Hell's medical sciences. in return for them sacrificing their personal time and their well-being, they will be given a list of helpful perks such as :

♦ free housing in Sloth [ optional ] ♦ stable payroll ♦ free health insurance [ plus dental ! ] ♦ Sloth-based bank account + credit card [ approved in all rings ]

this program is aimed mostly towards those who are feeling down on their luck, the most desperate of the desperate, at their wit's end, or at the very least feel that they should be getting paid for how much life is dicking around with their lives.

let it be known, however : due to the perks of such a program, there is quite the waitlist. but fear not ! for there is a high amount of people "moving out" on a regular basis, so you might get bumped up the list faster than you might expect ! additionally, for the safety of you and your fellow Subjects, should anyone have adverse mental or physical effects during testing, you will be given an implant that will be inserted into your brain.

[ mun's note : the implant has basic tracking and each one has a sigil that activates a pleasant reward system via small, concentrated injections of Belphegor's drug-like saliva that replenishes through magical means ; the implant also has an option to sedate the subject, but more precautions need to be made to knock out the subject before proceeding. ]

as they enter the program, they will be assigned a Handler that manages their schedules and general housing needs. they are also able to potentially climb the four ranks of the program, each one coming with additionally dangerous or risky trials, but a hefty raise in financial support follows to compensate for this.

once Subjects begin reaching past moderate-tier status, applicants have the choice to either stay moderate-tier or choose to enter advanced-tier, where the opportunity to become promoted from Subject to Agent opens up. doing so means that they will be able to change over to nicer housing communities and carrying out personal jobs for Belphegor.

these vary from playing messenger to other Sins to retrieving rogue Agents, to going undercover or simply acting as a precautionary set of eyes during out-of-ring meetings ; very few roles are off the table, really.

♦ intermediate. ♦ moderate. ♦ advanced. ♦ veteran.*

upon reaching Veteran status, they have been in the program for roughly around a year. with this, a secondary sigil on the Agent's implant will activate and provide them with enhanced physical strength, height, senses, and an ability that varies from Agent to Agent -- they may be able to phase through walls for short periods of time or can camouflage themselves to blend in with their environment, for example. as a side effect of these added traits and ability, Subject's eyes and veins will begin to shift colors to an ultraviolet purple, which are also a sign of prestige, strength, and seniority among lower tier Subjects.

[ ANOTHER note : there can only be ten Veteran Agents active during this program, and competition is encouraged as a method to weed out the lackluster from the violently-resilient, as these Agents are capable of reaching Sinner-levels of power. ]

along with this substantial raise in pay and badge of superiority, Agents have the choice to move into a more prestigious community and receive Resurrection Insurance -- should the Agent die within Sloth, the implant secures a spiritual tether to the Agent and will ensure that the body goes into a temporary state of false life, keeping the organs working while the soul is floating around its physical body like a balloon, long enough until the Agent can be transferred into a hospital to be resurrected properly.

#✦ ◜ooc.◞#◜belphegor: headcanon.◞#// this is me spewing nonsense ive been stewing on and not like #// an ACTUAL ic business pitch #// its an idea ive had cooking for a while that sets up a bit of belph's less Nice side since theyre a Sin and all :p

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dreamings-free · 6 months

Text

By Lars Brandle | 26/10/23

The British pop singer is used to wearing bruises as badges, the result of close encounters with overeager fans, he tells Australia’s commercial radio network Nova.

[ embedded instagram post ]

Tomlinson’s tour reaches home soil next month for a run of U.K. and Ireland arena shows, in support of Faith In The Future, his second solo album.

#nice press for louis..#not the best press for louies.. 😬#let’s hope the message get across..#louis #at the barricade #billboard #26.10.23 #press #link #m

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itookyoudown · 7 months

Note

I know it’s been a while since you wrote it, but I’d love to get the directors’ commentary on this excerpt from “and i would be the one (to hold you down):”

Tim’s ordained badge hangs from a chain around his neck. It rests like a shield over his heart though Tim’s not so sure if it’s protecting him from Boyd or Boyd from him. Usually, the weight of the star was light. Like a pat of reassurance. Now, it wears heavy. Like a collar.

He supposes dog-like feelings are appropriate for him. In the army, they’d made a big whoop about the differences between sheep, sheepdogs, and wolves. An easy way to divvy up the world’s people into tidy designations. War may be chaos, but the military is orderly. Civilians, the good guys, and the bad guys. Tim’s a sheepdog. By default that makes him one of the good guys, though sometimes he has doubts on whether the world is that simple and clean.

It doesn’t feel particularly good to point his weapon at Boyd.

There’s a big difference between doing something because you like doing it and doing something because you’re good at doing it. Tim doesn’t like shooting people...but he does like being good at it. Taking aim at Boyd doesn’t feel good per se, but it feels familiar and that makes it easy.

In his heart, Tim’s still a soldier. Boyd’s not. He may have served, but he’s no longer one of the sheepdogs. Maybe he never really was. That’s the difference between them right there. Tim has the skills to shoot and the willingness to pull, but not without an order to do it. Boyd doesn’t take orders from anyone. He makes his own decisions now. Without input from anyone or consideration for others.

Tim can see the irrefutable evidence of Boyd’s most recent decisions. After all, Boyd’s wearing them. They’ve stained his hands and the front of his clothes. He’s already pulled first on someone and literally taken the clothes off their back. The local sheriff, Tim assumes, from the brown and beige star-smacked look that Boyd is wearing.

Boyd’s a wolf dressed up as a sheepdog.

There are no sheep left in the building.

Oh thank you! I'm actually really happy you asked about this even if I have to really dig into my memory bank.

and i would be the one (to hold you down). It was my first fanfic ever so I'm very fond of it, even if looking back I realize it's still raw in a few places and could have used some more baking. But I love the world I created for this and I pulled off the vibe & grappled with the themes I set out to explore in this piece.

So, this whole passage really was to acknowledge that while Boyd and Tim have commonalities (they're veterans they're southern boys they're soldiers they come from abusive homes etc etc) they are fundamentally very different people and they do NOT share moral values. There is zero overlap there, they're vehemently opposed in this regard. No same coin, opposite sides imagery happening here. They aren't even in the same piggybank together lol.

(I stressed the importance of this because it was intended to amplify the real horror at the end of Tim losing his morality when Boyd forcibly turns him into a vampire -- Boyd doesn't just take Tim's life, he does something even more sinister and destroys Tim's moral center).

I have so many feelings about the symbolism behind the badge of the US marshals. It's so distinctive and evocative that this bit was really just stopping to ponder what that badge means and how it is used and to show that Tim's relationship with his own job as a LEO isn't without nuance.

This whole bit about wolves VS sheepdogs is an old analogy (hi jesus as a shepherd imagery). But you'll also see it tossed around in veteran circles a lot -- shows up in military memes constantly lol. There's controversy about the dude and the essay/lecture/book it stems from, but I won't get into all that. Simply put, this analogy is one that Tim would be familiar with and I think as a young man who was sent off to war it really cemented into his mind. That pretty sounding and crystal clear separation between innocents, protectors, and predators is one that has helped Tim grapple with his moral injuries.

Though he doesn't fully buy into it. Tim is a product and weapon of the USA military propaganda machine, but Tim's service has left him questioning everything he was taught and told. Tim has remarkable self-awareness and I wanted to show that while Tim uses this mindset to help guide himself through the complications of life, he doesn't entirely fall prey to the us VS them mentality.

Tim's capable of self-reflection and in order to do that you need to have the ability to doubt yourself.

It doesn’t feel particularly good to point his weapon at Boyd.

I really wanted to make it clear to readers that Tim has little ill will toward Boyd. That his confrontation with Boyd is Tim acting professionally and that he's adhering to the vow he took when he took up office as a US deputy marshal. It doesn't matter that Boyd has been a pain in the ass to our lawmen for six seasons or that Tim is tired of Boyd and Raylan's personal bullshit or even that Tim and Raylan are implied to have a romantic relationship + the later insinuated that Raylan has been feeding on Tim.

Tim doesn't hate Boyd in this story. There's no rage or jealousy or hatred when he draws his weapon because this is Tim, as a LEO, reacting to an active shooting in a hospital.

In his heart, Tim’s still a soldier. Boyd’s not. He may have served, but he’s no longer one of the sheepdogs. Maybe he never really was.

Deep breath. I just love season 6 Boyd so much. He's awful and it's horrible to watch him unravel and go full-throttle with his cruelty and anger, but I think it's such a fitting end for him when you look back at all of his choices throughout the story. Tragic, in a certain light, but Boyd went from antagonist to full-fledged villain of his own accord and I love that for him. Go outlaw man go!

I loved including this bit because I think it harkens back nicely to all the lies Boyd tells and the masks he wears and Boyd never quite being who he says he is.

They’ve stained his hands and the front of his clothes. He’s already pulled first on someone and literally taken the clothes off their back. The local sheriff, Tim assumes, from the brown and beige star-smacked look that Boyd is wearing.

Nah we, as readers, know that'd be Carl, but this is told from Tim's POV and he wouldn't know about that. I did really like this bit though because we see Tim in LEO mode even in the heat of the moment -- he's making assumptions and trying to piece together clues but he's not stating facts. Because we're shown once again that Tim isn't acting from an emotional place.

Boyd’s a wolf dressed up as a sheepdog. There are no sheep left in the building.

Ominous sentences OMNIOUS. Here is kinda where I started to slip in the horror. And also on a practical level to explain Tim's alone with Boyd. The gunshots have cleared out the hospital. There is no one to come to Tim's rescue or help him.

And to go on a ramble for a moment here: when the horror does rise in the following paragraphs...the wolf, sheepdog, and sheep analogy actually entirely falls apart and is no longer applicable in any way. Because Boyd isn't human at all. He's not even a wolf. He's so far beyond Tim's understanding or ability to comprehend what Boyd is! Because vampires :)

That's also why this is the last time I use the wolf/dog/sheep imagery in this fic.

Thanks again for sending this ask! This was a fun trip down memory lane.

(author commentary ask game)

#tooks.txt #itookyoudown #justie author commentary #justie games

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callsign-marlie · 2 years

Text

Prologue. Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV. Part V. Part VI. Part VII. Part VIII. Part IX. Part X. Story Content Warning: Rate M for mature content (minors DNI!!!) including but not limited to: mentions of drug use/smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit sexual scenarios, angst that will make your head spin and more to add a/n: time to introduce the dagger squad :) part 3 is almost complete, i'll probably finish it up tomorrow and will edit it later on monday to post monday night. every 4 days seems to be a good pace moving forward for me, so hopefully we can stick with that! thank you for loving this so much <3 x marlie Table of Contents

Part II: "Another Fine Navy Day!"

The Hard Deck was her job and Misha was thankful everyday for a boss like Penny Benjamin. With her house arrest and community service done, the admiral’s daughter had gone stir crazy sitting in her childhood bedroom surrounded by puffs of pink and old teddies on her bed with absolutely zero stimulation. She needed a big girl job to fund a renovation and The Hard Deck was just the job she was looking for.

Penny was always kind to the aviators that frequented her establishment and was honored to have a veteran of such prestige on her staff. No matter how troubled Misha was, Penny took it upon herself to bring the misunderstood woman under her guidance, making every attempt to mend the tear in her wings. She even went so far as to give Moose a little badge to put on his service animal vest and got a custom made Hard Deck handkerchief for him to wear while Misha was on shift. After all, he was just as much as part of the staff as Misha.

“Now bourbon is surprisingly tricky,” Penny muttered, watching Misha’s unsteady pour. “Too much and the patron will hate you. Too little and the patron will hate you.”

“Is there a way to know what’s enough?” Misha questioned, her gaze flickering to the dribble of Maker’s Mark left on the bar. Crap. “There’s gotta be a universal measurement or something right?”

“Nah, you just have to eyeball it. ‘Comes with time, sweet pea, you’ll figure it out.” Penny flicked her bar towel under the glass to clean the single golden drop and took a sip of the poured liquid. Her lips peeled to an approving smirk, nodding her head. “Better. Now garnish that baby with some bitters, an orange peel and a cherry and you’re all done.”

Misha did as she was told and slid the sweating glass across the table to the other end of the bar, a gentle tink resounding as it tapped into the set of glasses down at the other end. Bullseye. At least her aim wasn’t shit.

“Penny, you think I’m ready for this? I know I’ve only been barbacking and observing, but do you really think I can tend tonight with you?”

“You don’t think you’re ready?” Penny wondered incredulously, an elbow resting on the resined cherry wood. “Honey, you’ve been here for six months now. I think that’s plenty of observation time. You’ve learned everything I have to teach you. Now’s the time to perfect it in practice! Have a little confidence in yourself! Besides, it’s mostly gonna be the aviators and regulars tonight: you know their blood is made of Bud. You’ll probably be pulling drafts most of the night anyway.”

A frown grew across Misha's lips. The aviators. Most likely the newest Top Gun class included. Every eight weeks, a new set of students strode through those doors to let off steam after their grueling flights and endless lectures. God, what Misha would give to be back in that part of her life. To feel the weight of the world flip her stomach upside down, the freedom of nothing but blue, blue skies. The camaraderie, the scent of jet fuel, the sense of family.

She was envious.

Now, she needed to be content with her new home on the ground behind this big, old bar in the middle of Fightertown. So close, yet so far, stuck in her childhood home. Stifled. Trapped in that upstairs bedroom with no way out like Rapunzel in her gilded tower.

But times were finally changing. This mission was an opportunity: she had a chance at freedom. A chance to make a change and turn her whole life around. She just had to let down her hair and wait for prince charming to make the steep climb up her lofty tower. All she had to do was not fuck it up.

Easier said than done.

Penny flipped the bar’s ‘closed’ sign to ‘open’ and it was time to sit and wait. The Padres game was playing muted on the big screen with the Jukebox warming up in a tired whir to life. Misha grabbed a few tokens from behind the bar and slotted them, throwing on anything that sounded nostalgic. The old box hadn’t been updated since ‘92, so modern music was never an option. It simply wouldn’t have fit in the Hard Deck, anyway. This place was generational; an icon. Adding rap and sugarplum pop to the mix would just curdle against the wallpaper and the wooden interior.

Moose was already at post in his bed near the entrance of the swinging bar door keeping his ever steady eye on Misha. No one even knew he was there. Misha crouched down to give him a kiss on the head before it was time to serve the first group of customers.

The crowd kicked up by the time the sun set and the ship was sailing smoothly. Penny and Misha got into the swing of things, passing tabs back and forth and sliding beers across to their assigned patrons. Misha was definitely more comfortable on beer duty with Penny taking over the hard liquor, but found herself pouring a few Old Fashions for some of the regular crowd. Their praise of her pour made her preen.

The door swung open heavily, bouncing off the side of the dented wooden frame at a mess of uniformed pilots making their way down the stairs. They immediately went towards an unoccupied pool table and were joining in for games of darts while a few stragglers moved towards the bar.

Misha’s throat dried as she approached the first khaki-clad group, swinging her towel over her shoulder. “What’cha havin’ fellas?”

A wistful-looking gentleman and a taller, mustachioed guy moved forward with billion watt smiles on both of them. “Hey, can we grab two buds please?” The shorter of the two was rubbing his hands together in excitement.

Misha couldn’t help but return their smiles. “Comin’ right up!”

She popped the tabs on two brews and slid them down the way to the waiting pilots who caught them just as they slowed. The taller one let out an impressed whistle, tapping his glass against his partner’s. “Daaaaamn, that was smooth! You’ve gotta be a pro, but I can’t say I’ve seen you here before. What’s your name, madam bartender? Oh, this is gonna be open by the way.” The pilot dropped his card on the counter and sent her a wink. She sent a coy smile back while she racked it into the file tray. “Thanks, it took a bit of practice, ya know? And it’s Misha. What do they call you?”

“Name’s Payback, and this here is my WSO, Fanboy.” The other man raised his glass to her and sent a over wink himself. They’re gonna need to be reigned in if they keep it up. Misha could just hear the bar bell ringing in the future. “Well, nice to meet you guys. If you need anything, you know where to find me. Tab’s open, have fun out there, just not too much fun.”

Penny was at the end of the bar eying her underling’s interaction with a grin on her face. Misha looked at her boss, gave a ‘what?’ hand gesture, and Penny strode her way over. She slung an arm around her shoulders, nodding her head to the direction of the now overflowing pool table. “Those two graduated two years ago. I’m just wondering what the hell they’re doing back in Fightertown.”

Two years ago?

Misha’s memory brought her back to that manila envelope her father had given her and the 9 faces that were involved. She remembered those two now. Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia and Reuban ‘Payback’ Fitch. So if they were here…

“Ahhhh Penny, my favorite MILF, long time no see babe. Grab me a Shocktop will you?”

The two women turned around to find sparkling white teeth, perfectly groomed blonde hair over gemstone green eyes. His elbows were propped on the top of the bar, fiddling with the Annapolis ring on his finger. His vision bounced between the two as his smile slowly flattened. “Wh- No fucking way.”

Penny observed her bartender to gauge her reaction. Misha wiped her hands on her bar cloth nervously, but slowly looked up to meet his eyes. There he was, her stupid, cocky, egotistical wingman from so long ago.

Misha’s grin broke free. “Hey, partner.”

His disbelief was comforting. A hand ran down the front of his face as he propelled himself to the side entrance of the bar. Misha couldn’t help her feet as she ran past a snoozing Moose and hopped the sliding bar door to leap into his arms. His biceps enveloped her and everything was warm. It smelled of pressed starch and that same, expensive Givenchy cologne he always wore. There was no doubt in her mind. It was him. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. In the flesh.

He pulled away from her for just a moment, taking in every mark and pucker on her face before tucking her back under his chin. His fingers parted through her dark hair and he cupped her face in his hands. “The hair is definitely new, I almost didn’t recognize you! What happened to my Barbie girl?!”

She scrunched her nose at him and put a stiff shove to his chest, laughing the whole way. “Yeah well, some of us have to change a bit, Ken, even you! Goddamn you’re even more ripped than the last time I saw you!”

Hangman struck a pose, pressing his hands together to puff out his pectorals. “Listen, when you’re as good as me, you gotta stay on your A game, Hotshot. You of all people should know that. You had to keep up with me after all, don't you remember?”

Hotshot. No one had called her her callsign for over three years. Not a soul. A spark attempted to light in the pits of her chest, but it was just too weak and snuffed out quickly. A shiver down her spine, replacing the moment of warmth. Misha attempted to bring her head back to the conversation. “Yes, I remember, but I never had to keep up with you. You had to keep up with me. But make that chest any bigger, Jake, they’re gonna start calling you Milkman!”

Jake’s vivacious laugh, nearly doubled him backwards, his arms around his waist. “Now that’s a good one, sweetheart! Definitely suits me more original than Bagman.” He did his best to wipe the faux tears from his eyes, his glare going icy. “After all, milk always turns to cream, and your boy knows how to churn, baby.”

A scowl and a smack on his bicep was all Misha could do to stop him from spying the flush on her face at his words. She was no prude, but Hangman always seemed to trigger her immediate embarrassment. “Can it, Seresin. Some hot babe out there’s gonna curdle your ass one day and you’ll be toast.”

The conversation they shared was light. He was still the coy, nauseating sonofabitch from all those years ago, but something was definitely aged about him. He was like a fine wine: still sweet under the tongue, but a bit more bold as well. Naturally as the crowd picked up, Misha needed to part ways to return to Penny to help her fend off the rascals.

“It’s been nice, Kaz. I’ll see you again soon. That’s a promise.” Jake stuck out his pinky finger. Misha returned her own painted digit, crossed them, and kissed her thumb. Jake returned the sentiment. Nothing was stronger than a pinky promise.

“No doubt. Take it easy, Hangman.”

Misha didn’t see the held breath that left his chest when she turned away.

—

More familiar faces from Misha’s classified folder made their way into the bar throughout the night. Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado was scamming plebeians at darts, Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd was busy observing the billiards table while munching on peanuts (he caught her gaze a few times and looked away shyly every time), and even her TOPGUN crewmate Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace. She lost all of her signature composure at the sight of her old friend. “MISHA? Who the hell is this alternative babe?!” “Phee-hee-heeeeniiieeee~” Misha had sung, throwing the shorter woman into her arms. The hug they shared was the most joyful thing she had experienced in her last four years.

Nearly all of the high scorers from Misha’s files were there and ready to rumble. She could smell the testosterone from across the bar as Hangman threw jab after jab, icy glare after icy glare, at each of his new crewmates. ‘So, which one of y’all have the guts to follow me?’

Establishing dominance. Fearmongering. Complete and utter domination. The Vigilantes had taught him well. But this side of Hangman was not something that Misha was familiar with. Her former wingman was never this brash from what she remembered. She didn’t recall the cold steel in his voice, the challenging demeanor, the loose posture of his shoulders when people upturned their noses to him. Maybe the wine she presumed he was aging like was more on the stale side than she had thought.

Hangman, Phoenix and Coyote were the most notable from her data she’s researched so far, but there was one more of the Big 7 that was still missing.

“Well, I’ll be damned. A chicken.” Coyote elbowed Hangman’s side. Blue eyes turned to the entrance, his his hands perched on his pool cue. “Bradshaw, as I live and breathe.”

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, in all of his glory; neatly trimmed mustache and that same proud, ridiculous strut he always had, strut into the room, pulling his aviators down the bridge of his nose.

Misha was going to throw up.

She ducked herself behind the bar out of sight to catch her breath. There was a vacuum in the room sucking out all of the oxygen. Moose had padded over to boop her arm with his nose, attempting to crawl under her chest. She gladly opened her lap for him to sit and put her hands through his fur to soothe her trembling fingers. Seeing all of her colleagues together was a trip down memory lane she wasn't quite ready to handle just yet, apparently. She better get over it fast. She had two days to prepare for their first mission briefing.

Penny bent down to her level, putting a hand on her back and rubbing lightly. “You good, sweetie?”

“I need a smoke, I’m taking fifteen” Misha groaned out, staying ducked under the crowd until she was clear out of the stingy bar and in the crisp air. Moose pawed at the sand behind her, keeping his eyes trained on his charge like a shadow.

The fall was bitter on the beach side and the sting of the ocean air stabbed pins into her arms. A familiar buzz stung between her ears. She smacked the side of her head as if she was tuning an old radio. Not now.

Fuck off, she muttered to herself, clicking off her hearing aids for a few moments of silence. The waves moved soundlessly. Everything was still other than the wind in her hair. She could almost imagine the ‘whoosh’ past her ears. Moose was positioned directly next to her, his tongue lolling to the side like usual. Her fingers tickled beneath his vest. Just a girl and her pup. No sounds. No worries.

"We're ok, Moosey," she smiled out, giving her shepherd a kiss. He returned it on the side of her cheek. "Yes, I know. We can do this."

It was peaceful once again, but not for long.

Ten minutes of blissful silence passed when she felt the thud through the cold sand. With a start, she spun to her feet before she had even seen the figure next to her. Misha quickly flicked her aids back on, Moose standing at attention beside her while her eyes and ears readjusted to the light and sounds output by the Hard Deck. A quick ‘blip’ let her know they were activated and the crashing of the waves and a piano with rowdy voices brought her back to reality. The leather jacket-clad figure with the back of his head in the sand couldn’t have gotten here at a more inopportune time.

“... Uncle Pete?”

---

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#arsonist's lullaby fic #top gun maverick #top gun maverick ff #bradley bradshaw ff #jake seresin ff #hangman ff #rooster ff #rooster x oc #hangman x oc #rooster x reader #hangman x reader

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