#and yes i am faking you top gun bitches out because you need to convert

[veritable-trash]

You Know The Rules

look at that stupid slutty mustache... god please answer my prayers just this once

Pairing: Finnegan(Everybody Wants Some!!) x Fem!Reader

Summary: God you hate him.

Word Count: 2K

Rating: M - mainly for drugs babayyyyy, weed, that good, otherwise it's pretty clean in these sheets(this time around)

A/N: haha. no one asked for this. but listen! all my glen powell sloots we need to remember the original. sweet daddy finnegan. mustached, shaggy haired, 80s baseball player i mean i couldn't have written a sluttier man if i tried. this movie isn't the greatest, but the music is dope, the outfits are cute, and it serves as a public service announcement that men need to start wearing crop tops IMMEDIATELY. this is a petition for men to start dressing like sluts again so i can finally be at peace. anyways this is completely and utterly self serving but the glen powell top gun resurgence just kept reminding me that this is peak glen to me. give me mustaches or give me death!

sorry that i haven't written... or literally done anything of value in an eon. my brain has given up and also i moved and am currently unemployed and am about to go travel for three months and want to write but have zero inspiration and tumblr makes me sad because everyone is so good at writing and i am a troll under a bridge. this is me trying to release the need to produce things of "value" because does that even mean anymore? i hope someone finds this a little fun because honestly i kinda did :) hugs and kisses <;33333

tell me what you think! i'm literally begging! on my hands and knees! the desperation is palpable yeesh

masterlist yay yay!!!

~~~~~

College.

What a fucking heinous place. Filled with suffocating expectations, the constant need to pretend you’re someone you’re not because of everyone else’s supposed opinions of you. 

It made you want to vomit. 

And yet here you were, cowering in the corner of the kitchen at this stupid, lame, awful college party. A baseball party no less. Those absolute heathens. Probably the worst category of men on this campus by about 20 miles and you were definitely counting. 

The joint you haphazardly rolled in the absolutely disgusting bathroom crackles between your lips as you try to tune out every single person here and catch the steady baseline of the song playing hoping that that will somehow lull you into a state of calm.

This new weed sucked shit. All stems, all seeds, and got you high for about 30 seconds. You were going to kill Willoughby when you saw him. Honestly the only baseball player in this house you liked and even he was about to get moved right onto the shit list with the rest of the men of this house. 

Your friends had badgered you endlessly all week to ask Willoughby for the invite, not that you really need to even ask him. Girls? More than one? The baseball boys were already salivating like it was their last meal on death row.

The standards in this place were in the fucking basement. 

Some would call you a pessimist. Angry, bitchy, snippy, negative, the whole gambit and they might be right. But college was a fucking weird ass place that made your skin crawl and your anxiety spike and all you wanted to do was smoke your green, pass your classes, and watch your cartoons in peace, please and thank you. 

And then his voice cut through your slow building haze like a serrated knife on a chalkboard. Made of sandpaper.

“Sweetheart! I thought Willoughby mentioned you’d be here, and why am I not surprised you’re toking it up alone in our kitchen, my favorite little stoner weirdo.”

Finnegan.

The absolute ultimate fuck. 

Mustached, wide shoulders, shaggy blonde, crisp baby blues, he was everything your vagina yearned for until he opened his stupid mouth. And of course that was just as pretty as the rest of him too. 

You’d met him for the first time freshman year. Fresh faced and thinking the world was truly your oyster, he’d popped into your life in intro to philosophy and swept you away with his silky, fancy words and the fact that he looked like that. 

He’d invited you to the first baseball party you’d ever gone to and made you a special promise that he would be your knight in shining armor for the night. That he’d be waiting for your arrival, was counting down the minutes till you showed up at his door and he could dance the night away with you.

That was until you saw him sucking face with Tracy. Who was also in your intro to philosophy class. 

Obviously, you’d hated him to his core ever since. 

But for some reason he’d stuck around. Always kept tabs on you, always had a class with you, always found you at any party, bar, disco, literally fucking anywhere and it made you want to tear your hair out. 

He was your pretty boy kryptonite and you needed him to leave you the fuck alone.

“Oh Finny. Finny, Finnegan, fuckhead. You know I thought I’d somehow be able to avoid you tonight but it seems like my stalker persists no matter the obstacles.”

Smoke trickles from between your clenched teeth and he has the audacity to stare at your lips and grin.

Fucking grin!!!

“You wound me princess. Ain’t even gonna share that little pinner of yours, I mean the absolute cruelty of it all.”

The grins still blazing on his lips but in Finn fashion he has to play up his part. 

Clutching at his pearls, leaning against the kitchen counter like you’d just stabbed him straight through. Your eyes roll so far back in your head they almost launch themselves out of your skull. 

“No Finn, I’m not gonna share with the likes of you. Go find Will and get him to roll you one, he’s the one I got the weed from anyways. Or maybe go find some other poor unsuspecting girl to do the deed for you, but you ain’t getting shit from me. You know the rules sweet Finny: ass, cash, or grass and god only knows I ain’t taking any of those three from you.” 

You regret those last few words the second they enter the air between you.

Because Finnegan’s eyes drop straight to your mouth again and now he’s crowding you into the corner of the counter. 

“Oh sweetheart if you just let me show you what this ass can do I think you would be singing quite a different tune. You think I’m all bravado and show but you and I both know the two of us could be quite a duo. I just know you’re absolutely unreal beneath that veneer of hatred you slap on.”

He’s still staring at your lips, the joint hanging limply between them as you try and control your breath and not cough up a lung. 

Two can play this fucking game.

You take a thick drag, the tip burning bright orange and crackling like cinders and his eyes only deepen in shade. The smoke curls out and up into your nose and he stares at you his jaw dropping a little slack as you play him like the fucking fiddle he is. 

“Finn.” Your index finger trails up his arm as you ash the joint in the sink, and you can feel the muscles of his bicep twitch with the contact. “If you think I’m gonna let you touch me you’ve lost your god damn mind. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go find some peace and quiet. Away from you.”

Your voice is sticky sweet and he barely registers that you’re telling him off for the millionth time tonight until you’re traipsing out of the kitchen at lightning speed before you do something else you’ll regret. 

He got too fucking close this time around. You let him get too fucking close. 

Your feet stomp quick up the stairs to the only safe place you’d ever been able to find in this house. 

The roof. That blissful open space, like the crispest breath of fresh air it tasted almost minty. Your hands dig into your pockets looking for your weed, your lighter, and your rolling papers-

Fuck.

Of course you’d forgotten papers, predicable as always and fucking annoying as hell and you’re about to turn back down the stairs when your eyes land on something sitting on the windowsill. 

Finn’s wood pipe. 

You loved to hate it but it was his calling card. Stupid and quirky and so perfectly him that the sight of it made you heart twist just a little. 

Not that you would ever fucking admit that. 

Well beggars can’t be chooser as they say. 

It’s deceptively crisp out on the roof as you shuffle around other groups till you get to your super secret corner on the far side of the house. No one ever seems to want to venture this far and you could smoke in peace and tranquility as the rest of the party raged somewhere far, far away. 

The bowls packed, green just catching a smolder and you have to admit the stupid Sherlock Holmes pipe is kinda fun. Maybe you’d leave a fresh bowl packed for sweet Finn as a secret thank you gift. 

Maybe this weed was stronger than you thought. 

“Alrighty first you don’t share your joint, then you verbally assault me in my own house, and now you’re smoking out of my pipe? You really are trying to start a fight with me this evening now aren’t ya?”

Your eyes are red rimmed and your brain has that pleasant haze coating every synapse and you can’t find it in you anymore to really fight Finn right now. The stars look too damn good and the tree has hit too damn deep to let your hackles rise.

“You know maybe I’ve been giving you a bit of a hard time, but you damn well deserve it.” You smile around the pipe as you take another drag, but this time you pass it to Finn as he sits down just a little closer than usual. 

His fingers snag against yours as you pass it and you both flinch a bit at the contact, sparkles zipping up your arms.

He stays quiet this time around, pulling puffs as you both watch people flit around the grass below you, the party continuing into this seemingly never ending night. 

Friday’s, they really were something.

Your knees knock, fingers catching again as he passes the pipe back to you. Another pull fills your lungs and you lean back, back, back until your back presses down on the cool paneling of the roof and you let the smoke drift up and away among those pretty little stars. 

“Finn you can just be so fucking annoying sometimes, I just wanna shut you up for like five seconds so we can all take a fucking breather.”

He laughs at that. Real and deep, curling around the base of your spine as he turns to stare down at you and the feeling spreads all the way to your fingertips. All the way to your toes.

“I’m well aware, but it’s sorta a part of my charm. I’m just waiting for it to final start charming you.”

Your eyes click to his, haze lifting for a split moment, and his eyes twinkle almost brighter than the stars. 

“That’s such a fucking line and you know that shit doesn’t work on me. Fool me once and all of that jazz.” But you can’t stop staring at him and now his eyes color puzzled, a little hazy as he tries to decipher your words. “Oh come on, freshman year? You invited me to the party with all your fancy little words that you love to spin for me to only find you eating Tracy’s lips straight off her face? Honestly she still talks about that night to this day so I guess in a weird way kudos to you but man that did sting a bit.”

You chuckle around another pull and you go to pass it back but he’s clearly no longer interested in that. He seems very intent on memorizing every detail of your face under the stars and you can’t help but wiggle a little under his hyper focused gaze. 

“I-I didn’t know that you were there that night. McReynolds told me you’d left with some dude and Tracy was more than willing to fill in that blank.”

Oh fuck.

You’re both just staring at each other as moment after moment click like puzzles pieces. Every snippy comment, every lingering glance, every class, every time you just happened to run into each other all no longer strange coincidences and some secret hatred. Every little moment stitching itself together till it left just you and Finn. 

And there’s that fucking grin again.

But it’s softer this time, a little less sleazy and a little more lovely and now you’re sure his eyes are brighter than any star. 

Your own lips tick up with a soft, nervous smile.

His fingers card between yours and he brings your knuckles up to his lips, stupid mustache tickling your skin in ways that make you shiver. 

“I feel like nows the time to return to my earlier question since you finally shared some of that green with me, so what do I owe ya? Ass, cash, or more grass?”

You snort into the air between you and his grin splits into a megawatt smile and you finally let yourself tumble head first into kissing stupid, idiot, fuckhead Finnegan.

“Ass, 100%.”

~~~~~

tell me what you think if anyone is actually reading this because i'm bored and this site is lonely and i just want some weirdo friends who also think mustaches are peak sexiness. alright i need to go to sleep the psychosis is taking over :P

#finnegan x reader #finnegan #glen powell #glen powell fanfiction #everybody wants some #walt finnegan #walt finn finnegan #everybody wants some!! #finnegan x you #walt finnegan x reader #walt finnegan x you #jake seresin x you #and yes i am faking you top gun bitches out because you need to convert #to the church of glen powell with a stache and scruffy hair #this is the way #everybody wants some fanfiction #i don't even know what else to tag nobody is looking for this shit this is literally just for me

[not-close-to-straight]

Bad Ideas (Fourteen)

Trigger warnings-- sexual assault (discussed/threatened) violence, people die. Violent!Peter is not to be fucked with, and he goes to a pretty dark place.

 MASTERLIST

***************************

God it hurts. Peter knew without opening his eyes that he was tied to a chair, his arms forced back in an uncomfortable stretch, his legs tied down as well. Definitely wasn't at home any more, not that there would be much left of their house after that explosion, but he could smell the dank and damp of a subterranean basement and that made him nervous.

Everything hurt so badly, from his head where it had smashed into the floor, clear down to his feet, probably burned from the blast since he had been barefoot.

He had been thrown into the second bedroom when the rocket blew, landing on the bed for a split second before he had managed to flip it over on top of himself and curl into a ball, trying to avoid the worst of the debris.

He didn't remember getting dragged it of the house, or the ride to wherever he was now, but everything fucking hurt and he couldn't help groaning when he tried to lift his head.

“Pete?”

Thank god Wade is here too. “Wade?” He licked his lips and gingerly straightened up. The Alpha was tied to a chair several yards away, ankles and hands shackled, rope wrapped around him several time to keep him immobile.

“Oh fuck baby boy I wasn't sure if you were okay.” Wade tried to lean forward to get a better look at him. “Been calling your name for hours, I was so worried you weren't going to wake up. You okay? Just banged up? You alright? I am going to kill these guys, Peter I swear to god.”

“I think I'm fine.” Peter shifted as well as he could with his arms tied to his sides and wrists handcuffed behind him. “Just sore, I think. Who came after us? Have you seen anyone yet?”

“I don't know who's behind this.” Wade shook his head.” Last thing I remember is watching them drag you away, I must have blacked out before they got to me. And we've been sitting here for a while. Camera in the corner, they must be waiting for you to wake up or something, I don't know.”

“Are you okay?” Wade was covered in blood, but Peter couldn't see any open wounds. “Is all that blood yours?” He was worried, even knowing the Alpha could heal from probably anything.

“Everything that broke is already fixed.” Wade replied and flexed his big arms, testing his ropes. “Pretty sure I punctured a lung, but breathing got a lot easier about half an hour ago so I think I'm fine again. We need to get the hell out of here, though. Right away.”

“Oh, that's not happening.” A door behind Peter swung open and someone new joined them. Wade's head jerked up, his eyes coloring red as they narrowed in anger.

“And who the fuck are you?”

“Oh that doesn't matter.” The man came to a stop right behind Peter, and Wade watched his omega tense uncomfortably. “You don't really care what my name is and this little snack--” he placed a long thin hand on Peter's shoulder. “--won't be alive long enough to remember, so why bother with introductions? In fact, you can just call me sir.” He bent down to Peter's ear, lips brushing against skin as he spoke. “Let's hear you say ‘yes sir’ omega.”

“Don't touch him.” Wade growled and Peter closed his eyes, trying to will his Alpha to stay calm until they knew what was going on.

“You know, Wilson.” The man stood back up, leaving his hand on Peter's shoulder. “I have to say I was more than a little surprised to hear that you had shown back up on the radar. In fact, I thought after that last botched job that the professor and his silly group of mutants had tracked you down and converted you. But I never expected to find out you were just playing house with a little thing like this. That was ingenious… I mean, really, kudos on keeping such a low profile. How did you hide your fucked up face from the rest of the world though? And for that matter,” the man leaned close again and flicked his tongue against Peter's ear. “What's a pretty little omega like you doing with him?”

Peter refused to even flinch, even as he got a noseful of fake Alpha and wanted to be sick. The man smelled almost rancid, a sure indicator of extensive drug use, but also a sign of an artificial alpha-- one that was the result of experiments and injections to rewrite his biology. Who is this guy?

Half a dozen armed guards came through the same door, walking around to stand behind Wade, guns ready.

“Now then.” The man left Peter's side and headed towards Wade, and Peter finally got a good look at him.

He didn't look like… anything. Not anything special anyway. Just an average guy in an average suit backed up by a whole lot of muscle with guns. A natural beta, judging by his build, but just reeking of artificial alpha hormones, and his eyes seemed like they were maybe permanently tinted red as a result of the hormones coursing through him.

“Now, I don't have anything personal against you Wade. Not really. I mean you're an asshole, but most of us are.” He said conversationally. “But someone out there wants you gone and is offering a bunch of money and isn't that just the nature of our work?”

“You're a merc?” Wade looked him over with a sneer. “Don't look like anything special to me. I can smell the fake Alpha in you, didn't know they let lab rats carry guns these days.”

The man seemed to flinch a little, then drew himself up even taller.   “Yes, well, not all of us are born the correct sub gender are we? And I might not look like anything in particular, but at least I blend in with the crowd. I have to admire your bravery though, it can't be easy to have such a distinctive look, can it? I think you've cornered the market on looking special. But whether my Alpha is chemically engineered or not--” he leaned closer to Wade-- “it's not gonna stop me from tearing your little bitch apart as soon as I'm done with you.”

Peter growled a little and the man turned back to him with an amused expression. “Did the omega have something to say? What a darling little growl that was.”

The mercenary smirked in amusement. “Honestly, omega, what are you doing with Wilson? Little minx, aren't you? Too bad I only get paid if I bring your body in for proof that I killed you.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully for a minute before smiling terribly. “It's a good thing it might take me a week to kill you, then isn't it? I'd hate for all that moxy of yours to go to waste.”

He held out his hand, and one of the guards handed him a long knife.

“Now Wade, word has it that you can't die. I mean, I have heard just astonishing stories of you coming back from fires and bullet wounds and all sorts of things. Is that true?”

“So far.” Wade replied, watching him uneasily. “Haven't found anything yet that could put me down.”

“And you've tried, haven't you?” The mercenary sent a triumphant glance over his shoulder at Peter. “Did you know he makes a habit of taking his life? I heard once he jumped off a building in front of a crowd of people just to see if it would kill him. Do you still hear voices, Wilson? Or did you put enough bullets through your skull you managed to get rid of them?”

Wade didn't answer, just clenched his jaw and looked away. Peter was staring at him with something like shock on his face, but then he straightened up a little and sent only empathy compassion love towards his Alpha, knowing their captor wouldn't pick up on. Betas couldn't read the pheromones and vibes that Alphas and Omegas could, and he knew when Wade's shoulders relaxed that the Alpha had felt him. Because it didn't matter anymore--what Wade used to do. Not anymore.

“But you still bleed don't you?” The mercenary pressed, when Wade stayed silent. “Still feel quite a bit of pain? For example if I were to stab you here--”

Wade's eyes widened and he shouted for Peter to look away just as the man drove the blade deep into his thigh.

Peter wasn't sure who screamed louder, him or Wade, but he couldn't look away, not when his Alpha was being hurt.

“Did that hurt?” The mercenary actually smiled down at him. “I wasn't told I had to bring back your body at all. So this could get fun. I bet I'd have to cut you into pieces before you stopped healing, huh?”

“Remember, Pete.” Wade called. “He can't kill me baby boy. He can hurt me but I'll heal. I'm fine. Just don't watch. Look away baby. Close your eyes, it's going to be fine.”

“Wade.” Peter choked out, and wanted to scream again when the mercenary pulled another blade and stabbed his Alpha in the chest, twisting the knife into his heart until blood was pouring from the wound.

“You know, I can smell how close to heat your omega is.” He said mildly, as if he wasn't standing in a puddle of Wade's blood. “I figure he's a week out at the most and I know stress makes that sort of thing happen faster. I wonder if I could get him worked up enough to drop into a heat right here in front of you? Wouldn't that be fun? And of course, as an Alpha I'd have to help the poor defenseless omega out, wouldn't I? Really it's the right thing to do. Omegas are so vulnerable when they are ass up begging for a knot.”

Wade roared and strained at his ropes and the mercenary threw back his head and laughed. “Would you like to watch? You're a kinky little prick, aren't you? That seems like it would be right up your alley.”

“Enough!” Peter yelled, and the guy laughed again.

“Don't you know omegas are to be seen and not heard? Has Wade just let you run around disrespecting Alphas all day? That's a real shame. Quiet omegas are so much better.” He said, and smiled at Peter through clenched teeth. “So why don't you sit there quietly and maybe I'll teach you something new?”

He reached out and ripped the knife from Wade's leg, putting it up to the Alpha’s neck instead. “Have you ever watched someone bleed out, omega? It can take a really long time if you learn exactly where to cut. Of course, this ugly bastard has that ridiculous healing factor, so it might take him days, if it ever works at all. Should we try?”

He forced Wade's head back, pressing the sharp edge to his throat.

“I'll be fine, baby.” Wade repeated firmly, but when he swallowed, the blade caught on his Adam's apple, and a thin ribbon of red appeared. “Look away, Pete.”

“I said enough.”

The mercenary turned in annoyance, ready to order the omega taken from the room but stopped short.

Peter rolled his neck, shifted his weight, and tore the ropes and chair apart when he stood to his feet in one smooth motion. A quick jerk of his wrists and the handcuffs went flying.

“What the shit?” Wade's eyes bugged out and he forgot all about the blade at his throat when his jaw dropped. “Peter what the fuck--”

Peter was already moving, webs shooting from his wrists as he ripped guns away from the guards, running and leaping into the air, wrapping his legs around the biggest guys neck and taking him to the ground. The man struggled for all of fifteen seconds until Peter tightened his legs and jerked hard and the man neck broke with a sickening pop.  

A hard kick had another guard denting the wall behind him, his head splitting open, and when a third pulled a knife, Peter actually laughed at him, swiping it out of his hand before plastering the guard to a wall with a pile of webbing over his face and let him hang there, kicking and thrashing and clawing at his face as he slowly suffocated.

Two rushed him at the same time, and with an impossibly fast tuck and roll, Peter ducked under one's legs and used him as a battering ram to slam into the fifth guy. They ended up motionless in a heap on the floor.

“Pete!” Wade yelled when the last guard pulled a pistol and Peter froze, halfway into a crouch, then he just smiled, slowly, eerily, and beckoned towards the guard.

“Come on. Shoot me. Do it. .”

The guard fired, and Peter jerked to the left and raised his eyebrow.

“What the hell? You missed. Try again. I dare you.”

Another shot, and this time Peter bent over backwards, his head nearly grazing the ground as the bullet passed over him. He straightened with a smirk.

“You are the worst at this. Considering your life is on the line maybe you aim a little better huh?”

The henchmen's hand was shaking now and Peter tsked. “You'll never hit me with a shaky hand. My hands though--” he was careening towards the guard, taking him out at the knees and knocking him out cold when his head bounced off the concrete floor. “Always steady. See that?” He waved his hands in front of the unconscious man's face. “Steady as a rock.”

“I'm gonna take his head off, omega.”

Peter's head jerked around when the mercenary spoke, taking in Wade still tied up, the blade drawing blood as it was scraped over his skin.

“You know, Weasel said you were dangerous, but I thought he was exaggerating. Apparently he wasn't.” The man's eyes narrowed hatefully. “What the hell are you? Are you one of Xavier's freaks?”

“I don't know an Xavier.” Peter said, with a smile, and kicked at the guard at his feet, sending him sliding towards the wall. “But I know I'm stronger than you. Faster than you. Better than you.” He stopped smiling and his voice dropped. “So back. The fuck. Away.”

“Or what?” The merc sneered. “If you were serious about killing me you would have broken those ropes right when I walked in. But you didn't. Not even when I hurt this piece of shit. You just sat there. And you know what tells me? Even with all that freaky shit you have going on, you aren't going to kill me. Willing to kill some nameless guards but not the head honcho. All you want is your ugly ass Alpha and to leave peacefully, right? You're one of those mutants that only uses your powers for good? A freak omega for a fucked up Alpha?

“What did you say?” Peter twitched a little and the man just scoffed. “What was that about my Alpha?”

“I said you just want to take this gross looking mother fucker and just--mmmph!!”

Peter shot a web at his mouth to shut him up, then wrapped another around his waist and pulled hard, slamming the man into the ground and dragging him to lay at Peter's feet.

“I don't like when people talk badly about my Alpha.” He said softly so softly that Wade had to strain to hear him. “And I really don't like when people assume that just because I'm an omega I'm helpless or frightened or weak or anyone's bitch.”

The man struggled desperately, and Peter placed his hand on his collarbone and squeezed a little. “Do you know how much pressure it take to snap someone collarbone? Just seven little pounds of pressure. Practically nothing.”

His hand closed into a fist and the mercenary started screaming through the webbing-gag as his collarbone splintered between Peter's fingers. “See how easy that was? Hey hey hey your screaming is really distracting, just be quiet, I'm trying to teach you something.”

He wrapped his slim fingers around the man's throat and rubbed his Adam's apple with his thumb. “They say only about eight pounds to snap a neck. But then I heard that you can crush someone's throat with the same amount of pressure you can use to crush a soda can. Have you heard that?” He was talking softly, almost absentmindedly, staring into the mercenary's eyes. “I crushed a car one time. Punched through the roof to get to someone and the whole thing just folded like an accordion. I could do that to you. But I think I'd rather feel your bones break one by one.”

“Peter no!” Wade shouted. “Don't! Don't kill him. Back off Pete! You cant do this!”

“Try and stop me.” Peter hadn't taken his eyes off the shaking man on the ground. “He tried to kill us, Wade. He blew up our home. Kidnapped us. Hurt you. I'm going to tear him to pieces, then I'm going to find that fucker Weasel and snap his neck. I am tired of people taking what's mine and ruining my life.”

“Peter. We can talk later about all of...this. But you won't be able to keep going if you kill him, baby boy, you won't. You've seen what killing does to me, imagine what it will do to you. Peter, please. Please.” Wade was begging with him, tearing at his ropes trying to get free to drag Peter away. “Come on baby you don't want this.”

“Oh no, I definitely want it. He was going to keep me as a plaything for a week. Did you hear him say that, Wade? Because I definitely did.” Peter bared his teeth in a snarl. “I'm going to kill him with my bare hands for that little comment. I could tear him apart without even breaking a sweat.” He crouched low next to the mercenary who was shaking his head frantically

“You know what the worst thing is about guys like you? You're all jacked on fake hormones and steroids and think it makes you big and bad but the moment the tables turn you're pissing your pants in fear.” Peter stared down at him. “I've spent years putting guys like you behind bars and I think maybe, just maybe, it's time to try something a little different. I think maybe I'll start with you. I think it might take me a week. How's that sound?”

“Look at me, Pete. Omega! Look at me now.” Wade growled the command, pushing as much Alpha as he could into it. He couldn't hear everything Peter was saying but he knew if he couldn't stop things that Peter would kill the guy, and even though it could be justified, it would destroy Peter when he came down and realized what he'd done.

So Wade dropped his voice and projected as much submit, omega, obey into the air as he could and repeated. “Look at me now, Omega.” and it worked. The omega shuddered a little and looked up at him, fingers twitching, eyes a little wild, chest heaving as he tried to regulate his breathing.

“You'll never come back from this moment, Peter.” Wade said firmly. “Not ever. Do not be this person. You're better than this.”

“Wade you killed all those men who came after us. How is this any different?”

“It fucked me up for weeks!” Wade argued. “It nearly cost me you. I'm not gonna let you do it. Get your ass over here, omega. Back the fuck off of him. Those guards… okay you know they had guns and were a danger to you, to us. This guy isn't. All he had was a knife and he doesn't have it any more. Peter this isn't self defense, this is murder and you have to back off now. Come to me right now.”

Peter visibly struggled for a moment, conflicting emotions flashing across his face, but finally he took a step away, and then another, until he was standing in front of his Alpha, nearly vibrating with anger.

“I know.” Wade soothed him. “I know okay? But it's better like this. Better for us. Just um, use some of those shocking muscles and get me out of these, okay? And then we're gonna leave.”

Peter just nodded, and placed a hand on each arm of the chair and gave a quick jerk. The chair, the rope, and both sets of handcuffs split right down the middle and Wade stood to his feet with an impressed grunt, brushing the bits of rope off himself.

“Let's just go, baby. Not worth it alright? Not worth what it will do to you. Let's just go.”

Peter still wasn't talking, waves of angry, frustrated, furious pouring from him so Wade put his hand on the small of his back and steered him towards the door.

“Wilson!” The mercenary on the floor shouted, finally having ripped the webs off his mouth. “This isn't over! You and your freaky omega are dead! You should have let him kill me because I am never gonna--”

Wade reached into his boot and whipped around, a small knife slicing through the air and embedding itself in the man's throat.

A shudder went through Peter's body when the man hit the floor with a thud, and Wade reached out for him, trying to hold him. But Peter slapped his hand away and walked out the door.

Wade couldn't do anything else but follow.

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#spideypool #wade wilson #peter parker #marvel #abo dynamics #alpha wade #omega peter #spiderman #deadpool #violent peter #dark peter