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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 months

Text

The Winners

The Motherfucking Gallaghers Masterlist

For @amonthofwhump Day 8: John Mclane | Held Hostage | Russian Roulette | Forced to Watch | Comfort: Rescue

CW: Murder most foul, very brief gore, captivity, whumper POV, sadistic whumper, referenced shock collar and noncon (brief)

As always, Jax Gallagher belongs to @comfy-whumpee and is used with their permission and input

When Isaac Marcoset holds out his hand, his steward is already stepping forward to give him the gun.

He smiles, closing his fingers around the familiar grip, custom-built for larger hands, his fingers weighed down with rings. It feels like simply an extension of his limb. The family heirloom has been with the Marcosets since the 19th century, handed down from father to son as each took over as the head of the family business.

It’s a beautiful gun.

“Everything is ready?” He asks, already knowing the answer. The question isn’t for the steward’s benefit, or for his own - it’s for the benefit of the three unlucky men sitting at the table.

Their eyes are on him, and Isaac is truly in his element in moments like this - he is the power and force in the room. It’s his whim they’ll all be subjected to, and not all of them will survive. None of them deserve to, granted, but Isaac enjoys the occasional extension of mercy. It makes his cruelties stand out all the more.

“Yes, Master Isaac,” His steward replies, quietly unobtrusive. He was brought in as a young man and has been with the family for nearly two decades, a creature of perfect loyalty for the family that owns him.

Unlike the man his niece insists on keeping, who Isaac has more or less been forced to keep track of while Savvie is out of town yet again on a tour.

That irritating creature doesn’t get a seat at the table, and Isaac doesn’t like the way he seems capable of befriending all the staff of the house so quickly. He’s keeping Jax close this time around, even if the man is nearly unbearably annoying.

Jax, the slave his niece lost and he recaptured for her and who she is definitely fucking now - disgusting, but Savvie has always been headstrong and stubborn. She denies it, of course, but the loathsome man himself has been perfectly happy to elaborate unnecessarily and in the crudest of terms as to what is going on at Savvie’s home at least three nights a week these days. If he says the words ‘sex slave’ one more time, Isaac’s going to duct tape his mouth shut and leave him in the stables until Savvie comes back.

In any case, his niece’s erstwhile kidnapped lover has been given a place against the wall and told not to move a muscle or say a fucking word unless he wants his arm broken again. He isn’t here because he deserves to be, but because he is a living example to the other men of what the Marcoset family can do to those who displease them.

He’s a walking example of a fate worse than death.

Based on the flat, empty look on his face, he’s well aware of it, too.

Isaac was in a foul mood earlier, and the asshole Englishman has plenty of bruises now to prove it, although he’s calmer now. Nothing soothes a bad day better than punching Jax in the stomach just to see him double over in pain. Savvie’s irritating attachment to the man is the only reason he’s even allowed to live after all the trouble he’s caused. Isaac kills runaways who aren’t useful, and he assumes Jax must have at least three brain cells working, since he seems to know that Savvie is the only reason Isaac didn’t simply leave his body in his father’s apartment to be found shortly before he murdered the father, too.

No, it was Savvie's insistence that Jax be brought back to her, and the father be left alive.

But... Savvie isn’t here for him to simper at and hide behind, not now. He's utterly at Isaac's mercy, and he's smart enough to know Isaac has very, very little mercy at all.

“Good man,” Isaac murmurs to the steward, tipping the gun this way and that, giving it some thought. This, too, is for the benefit of the three men at the table, who look increasingly uneasy with every passing moment.

At least they aren’t stupid enough to start yelling or begging again. He’d just kill all of them if they gave him another headache.

The steward steps back and folds his hands behind his back, standing next to the place Jax has been told to remain. Isaac doesn’t see the way that the steward briefly touches Jax’s shoulder, a sign of sympathy and solidarity - if he had seen it, he’d have beaten the steward within an inch of his life, too. He doesn’t see the way Jax manages a slight, faint half-smile in return before carefully shifting away.

Isaac, instead, is busy gesturing using the gun. “You see that man, gentleman? The one right there next to my steward?”

He watches each of them look at the underfed, overdressed man against the wall, who stares without expression back at them from beneath carefully styled auburn hair. Isaac smiles as their eyes catch on the shock collar tightly locked around his neck, scratchy nylon above the crew neck of his luxurious cashmere sweater.

They look back to Isaac. One of them nods.

Isaac addresses that one directly. “He’s Marcoset property, bought as a gift for my lovely niece. Then… he ran away from her. He dared. He had his daddy call the cops and he tried to put my niece in prison.”

The second man - the one in the middle - clears his throat and then hesitantly asks, “He… did put her in prison, though, right?”

Behind him, there’s a noise. Isaac glances back, but Jax’s face is exactly the same, no sign of a smile or the huff of laughter Isaac thinks he heard. He turns back to the men. “Yes,” He acknowledges. “She did go to prison. For quite some time. But then… she was released.” He checks the chamber of the gun, idly. One bullet, six spaces.

Isaac spins the chamber and smiles at the satisfying clicking sound it makes. Honestly, this is his favorite gun, even if it isn’t the one he uses most often. Although this pistol has killed a lot of people since his grandfather first bought it.

He clears his throat. “Once she was out, I recovered him for her. Brought him back to where he belongs. Brought him back to my niece’s loving embrace.” He pauses, but Jax has no quippy little reply for this. No, he seems to be smart enough to know this isn’t the time to push his luck. “No one runs away from the Marcosets. No one. He tried - he was gone for years - and we still tracked him down and brought him back. He won’t run again. Will you, Jax?”

Jax doesn’t answer. Refuses to play along with Isaac's game.

Isaac will make sure he regrets that later.

Savvie never minds a few new bruises, as long as her little slave can still do whatever she wants, whenever she wants him to do it. As long as he’s still able to obey, and fuck her, and tell her she’s pretty. As long as she can still tell herself he loves her. His niece is not stupid - well, in some ways she is... but she is primarily delusional.

Isaac knows better than to poke holes in that delusion.

Besides, the idiot creature makes her happy.

He moves on. “Now, each of the three of you is a known associate of someone who ran away from a Marcoset,” Isaac continues, as if Jax had played his part. “Each of you provided that runaway with invaluable assistance. Each of you was exposed by said runaway once we recovered them. Three men sit at this table. Two will leave here alive, with my simple suggestion that you not aid a runaway from Marcoset family properties again.”

Isaac would tower over everyone else even if all of them were standing - he’s tall, and more than that, he has the Marcoset build of muscle trending towards bulk. He owns every room he walks into, impossible to ignore.

“Let’s play, shall we?"

With the gun loosely held in one hand, he walks slowly behind the first man. The lights catch the clammy sweat on the man’s face, making his dark blond hair brown around all the edges where it’s damp. His breathing is an audible rasp as he gasps in and out.

“Oh god,” The man whispers. “Oh god, oh god, oh god… Please, pl-please, please no… oh god-”

Isaac smiles. “You gave a safe place to sleep for someone who ran from my oldest son Brayden,” Isaac rumbles, enjoying the man’s clear terror. “We brought her back to him, and he has ensured she will not run again. Frankly, she’s lucky we only cut the tendon on one leg.”

Against the wall, his steward remains expressionless. Jax glares up at the ceiling, hands behind his back. Isaac is sure he has them closed into fists, and wonders how often the man dreams about hitting him. Isaac glances over, smiling slightly at the sight.

He raises the gun and presses the barrel against the back of the first man’s head, listening to his soft whimper. “Please,” The man whispers one more time. Tears stand in his red-rimmed eyes. The chair creaks. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t kn-know, she l-l-lied to me-” The man’s voice trembles with his fear, and Isaac sighs, as if disappointed in it. “I-I didn’t know!”

“Yes, you did,” He says simply, and pulls the trigger.

Click.

The man flinches with a cry, then exhales in a rush when he realizes he’s still alive, and starts weeping openly right there at the table. Isaac catches himself licking his lips, and moves on to the next man before anyone else might notice.

“You will live. Don’t fuck with the Marcosets again.”

The next one starts begging before he even touches him with the cool metal, jerking forward as if he could escape even though he can’t stand. “Wait, wait, please, please, I didn’t-... I didn’t mean to help anyone! I just, I thought, I thought h-h-he was homeless, is all, I thought-... wait, wait, you don’t have to-... I can pay you, I can… I can pay you-! I have money!”

“I have more money than I could ever use, and spend more on clothes in a month than you could ever have to give me,” Isaac says amiably.

He pulls the trigger.

He’s actually vaguely surprised at the deafening noise and flash when the gun goes off. The man jerks forward, dead before he even knows he’s been shot, blood and bone and brain matter spraying. A few drops hit Jax on the face and he flinches violently.

Isaac sighs, shaking his head, disappointed.

The dead man’s leg jerks once, twice, three times, and goes still.

“Well, that’s no fun,” Isaac murmurs. “Ruins all the tension of the game if the second guy gets the bullet, doesn’t it?” He looks over at the third man’s wild eyes ringed in white. He looks like he can’t decide whether to be frightened or relieved, knowing that the bullet won’t be meant for him. “I was really hoping to get a second round in before it got to one of you. Oh, well. I suppose he’s the loser, and you two men are the winners. Congratulations.”

The first man blinks, as if coming out of a daze, and slowly looks up, shoulders still shaking. “What…?”

“I said, congratulations. You two have an exciting opportunity not to fuck with my family ever again. Thank me for it, or we'll play again."

The third man’s lips are trembling as he manages a weak, “Th-thank y-y-y-you… it, it won’t h-happen again.”

The first man nods frantically. “Yes, it, it won’t happen-... thank you-!”

“Good.” Isaac walks away, crossing the room and stopping by his steward. The first man starts weeping again behind him.

His steward is unmoved by the carnage - it’s not new to him, after all. But Isaac notes with pleasure that Jax’s face is white and he’s staring at the blood slowly spreading on the table around the dead man’s head, the bits of gray matter mixed in. The man's breathing sounds shallow and fast.

Isaac leans in. “You two can handle cleaning up this mess?”

“Yes, Master Isaac,” His steward says quietly. “We will have this dealt with within the hour and the two living men will be removed from your property.”

“Good man.” He pauses, then snaps his fingers right in front of Jax’s face. He catches the man’s suppressed flinch as his eyes snap up to Isaac’s. He does so love the way Jax looks when fear overrides his usual anger. “You. Savvie’s little toy. Dinner is in two hours, and your presence is expected. You will be showered and dressed for it by then. Is that understood?”

Jax inhales through his nose. His mouth moves into a smirk, even though his eyes don’t reflect it. He says, in a low voice, “Wouldn’t miss family dinnertime for the world, Uncle Isaac.”

Isaac’s lip curls, hand twitching with the urge to choke the man to death right here and now, but… that would be losing his temper. He won’t do that now, not in front of the two men he very much wants to think of him as a terrifying man in total control. Instead, he just leaves them there, and he hopes Jax understands the message for what it is.

One man died today, just for helping someone get away.

If it weren’t for Savvie being stupidly head-over-heels for the idiot and insisting on not doing anything that might make him hate her - as if he didn’t already… well.

If it weren’t for Savvie's inexplicable obsession with Jax, Jax’s father would have been one of the men at the table, instead.

He still could be.

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