#*old lady voice* back in my day you got dropped off to be raised by some bandits and grew up wild as hell in a forest
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The idea of Ace and Luffy being wild, feral things makes my own heart happy.
Honestly though, I picture them having a lot in common with animals.
Strong teeth, strong bones, tough skin, quick reflexes. The instincts that come from growing up wild.
An ability eat lot of things that other people maybe wouldn't or can't. Meat that's a little more rare than advisable and snapping bones to get to the marrow inside.
They walk quiet, soundless when they want to be, using shadows and blind spots to become basically invisible. They don't do it often because they both have terrible attention spans but they can sit still and silent for long periods of time if needed, waiting like predators for their prey.
Staring, the way animals stare and wait for the other one to back down, making themselves look bigger and baring teeth. They snarl and snap their teeth, flexing their hands like claws when they're not making fists, a low grumble in their chests that sounds like a odd growl.
How it's instinct to cover the throat and belly of themselves and their crews, vulnerable spots that must be protected.
Ace being one of the shorter of the Whitebeard crew, so he does that thing where he eases himself in front of the others to cover their throats and bellies. Curling his lip back to show teeth and keeping eye contact with anyone stupid enough to try.
Licking their wounds, literally.
I imagine them being incredible trackers, able to use their senses a little more than the average person. Ears a little sharper, scents being considered, eyes taking in all the little details. Maybe they're not aware of it, but I like to think they take it all in deeper than they possibly realize.
A sense for something wrong, like how some animals can pick up on the energy people give off, possible sicknesses, coming storms, being watched, etc.
Sleeping all tangled together, the way animals sleep together for safety and warmth in cooler times. Luffy and Ace are big cuddlers.
Not necessarily in the normal cuddle ways either, they like to either be sprawled out on top or covered by someone. They're either being protected or they're protecting.
Head butts and cheek rubs when happy. That extra emphasis on crew, like packs and herds. Crew.
A lot of touching. Playing with someone's hair or nuzzling into their neck or side, a lack of boundaries because animals don't have shame or concerns like that.
And everyone who regularly interacts with Ace or Luffy wants to know how two feral cats got trapped in human bodies.
Am I always down for poly crews? Yes
Platonic or otherwise? Yes
Do I think everyone is a little in love with Luffy? Yes
Do I think everyone is a little in love with Ace? Yes
The crews love their wild ones and spoil them rotten when they can and know how to.
And since this is already AU let's just roll with it.
♠️ Ace ♠️
Ace just despises Teach right off the bat. As soon as the ink has settled in his skin and he's got a claim on him that he's never had before, he's completely standoffish with Teach. No matter how much the others tell him that's his brother now and assure him, he's all teeth and fire when Teach is around.
The man makes the fine hairs on the back of his neck rise and the instincts pacing at the back of his mind spit out a hiss.
Threatthreatthreat
His teeth grind together in anger, muscles tense under his skin, and it's a vicious thing in his chest he hasn't felt so strongly since Sabo and Luffy were his.
It causes some tension. People torn between supporting Teach, who's been their own for awhile, or supporting Ace, who has a good sense for this type of thing and is so welcoming to everyone else. They don't know how Ace can be so sweet and well loved by everyone but does a complete 180 with Teach.
It's instincts that have gotten Ace this far in life though and one night, it's only those instinct that save Thatch.
Ace darting out of the shadows and landing like the wrath of a god in front of Thatch, the knife that would have gone into the man's back instead finds a home in Ace's shoulder.
A rumbling growl that gets louder and nastier as the seconds tick by, blood running down a bare chest before flames lick up a wound that only found flesh because letting it pass meant the possibility of it hitting someone else. Sharp teeth shining in the growing glow of the fire and the ends of his hair burning like the edge of paper.
The flames don't burn Thatch when the older turns around. His flames would never burn crew.
Thatch wraps an arm around his waist like he's going to pull him away, but it just stays there, heavy around him. Ace takes a moment to find comfort in the warm and very alive presence pressed up behind him, bigger than him and Thatch's own protective fury catching fire.
Marco is less restrained in his fury. As are most of the others when they rush to investigate. The only reasons it's not quick is because they want it to hurt.
Ace is a coiled threat the whole time, body tense but staying where he is because the original threat was to Thatch and he hasn't quite lowered his hackles from that yet. Still on his toes and ready to spring forward at a moments notice.
He gives a small warning growl to Marco when he gets close, who looks at him in both worry and fond exasperation.
The blood from the blade is black where it burned against his skin and the flesh is unmarked, but it doesn't stop everyone from fluttering nervously around him.
♠️
Ace is attractive, arguably pretty in a way most pirates aren't. Although this young generation is changing that quickly, have you seen some of these rookies?
He draws attention easily, everyone drawn in by his charming personality or freckled cheeks.
He's a flirt but he doesn't often let other people actually touch him. Leaning away from eager fingers or gracefully dodging arms, excusing himself when he feels to cornered. He doesn't want the feel of strangers on his skin, he just wants the crew. And Luffy of course, his heart giving a lonely pang for his brother.
Sometimes people don't get the hint though, and sometimes they do and they don't care.
Drugs don't effect Ace like they would someone who wasn't a devil fruit user but they still make him dizzy and weak before he burns through it.
It only takes once, outside a bar with someone's hands on his skin when they didn't belong there, on his lower stomach and the other up by his neck. He doesn't even get a chance to try to shake off the drug enough to do anything before the man is gone.
Familiar hands, Marco, running over his skin quick and firm like it could wipe away the foreign touch before he processed it was there. Like if he replaced the unknown touch with his own quick enough it will wipe away the lingering disgust and discomfort of the stranger.
The whole time he keeps Ace hidden between his larger body and the wall behind them. Ace's heart aches almost as much as his head with how thoughtful it was. How safe and grounding it was.
The only arms he lets grab him, the only hands that he presses in to, are crew.
♠️
Ace has a habit of sneaking into everyone's bed, they don't talk about how they all know it's on the nights where he can't sleep or has nightmares. He burrows between them and the mattress, until he's under them enough to feel covered, safe and protected.
Ace isn't a small guy but he's lean, always had a hard time bulking up with his metabolism being so high and his natural build. He feels small with them, especially the commanders like Jozu and Vista who completely cover him. Even Thatch and Marco are decently larger than him though, Izo and Haruta being the exceptions but they're large in everything that they are.
They all welcome him. He's warm and sweet, plus it's nice to know he's sleeping somewhere safe instead of falling asleep in strange places through the day.
Marco is usually his favorite though because he doesn't pretend to be asleep. He just props himself up enough so Ace can wiggle under him before settling back down, his chest to Ace's back.
Some nights when the pressure is too much and he's restless in a way that feels like it's deep in his bones, he paces the ship. He's coiled and tight, usually not sleeping for a few days before it catches up to him and he slinks away somewhere dark and hidden to finally rest.
Usually one of the other commanders can coax him into resting, all of them getting the hang of how to best help their wild, little one.
♠️
The crew getting used to Ace just crawling into their laps and making himself at home. He is also fond of appearing just long enough to rub his face into someone's neck or against their cheek before taking off again.
♠️
Ace sneaking off to literally lick his wounds in peace when he gets hurt, especially when he was still finding his place. Someone always having to go track him down because he stays curled away like an injured animal until he feels better if they don't.
Licking at his arm one time when he manages to get caught with seastone, blood staining his teeth and tongue rust colored. Marco trying to grab him and in full lecture mode as Ace tries to dig out the lingering seastone with his teeth.
♠️
An extra one to hurt just a little ♥️
Ace is wild. Already a problem before you factor in his devil fruit and raw power. He's got a reputation of biting, taking off fingers and catching throats between sharp teeth.
It seems like someone did their research though because the muzzle they wrangle him into has seastone. Everyone has finally caught on to the fact that he doesn't need his flames to bite.
It's a sharp, nasty thing. Probably thrown together quick in a desperate attempt to get him under control. The straps dig into his skin hard enough to draw blood and Ace can already picture Marco talking about infections.
It hurts and goes from a deep, dull discomfort to a sharp, active pain. The muzzle settles into his skin and rub the skin raw where it doesn't outright cut into it. He's been captured for a few days, the wounds clotting and trying to heal only to be ripped back open when moving a certain way.
It was only a matter of time until they came for him and when the guards start getting fidgety he wishes he could show his teeth in a grin. Everyone knows what happens to those stupid enough to mess with the Whitebeard pirates.
He always knew they'd find him, even when the guards whispered in his ear cruel taunts about being forgotten. Unloved.
His heart still goes heavy with affection when he hears the first sounds of death coming for his captors.
#one piece#portgas d. ace#luffy#marco the phoenix#whitebeard crew#marace#marcoace#izo one piece#haruta one piece#thatch one piece#diamond jozu#speed jiru#one piece vista#whitebeard pirates#ace x everyone tbh#*old lady voice* back in my day you got dropped off to be raised by some bandits and grew up wild as hell in a forest#op#setting sail with greyskyflowers
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Gojo's and (y/n)'s daughter buying a prom dress for her because she never had one
Pairing: husband!Gojo x reader; daughter x reader
Word Count: 1,5k
Synopsis: When you told your little one about the fact that you never got to wear a prom dress, it was clear for your husband and daughter they needed to change that for your birthday.
Warnings: fluff overload, Gojo and daughter are sweetheart, obviously reader wasn't able to afford a prom dress back then so if you get triggered by a rough past don't read, tell me what you thiiiink 🤍
„I can’t wait to wear one of them!“
You follow the tiny index finger of your 4 year old daughter, darting directly into the store window you already stopped by countless times. Gently you rub her head, get lost in the eyes that remind you so much of your loving husband.
“Which one do you like best, huh?”
“What a hard question…”, she mutters, eyes fixated on the countless dresses displayed.
It is indeed. Would you rather wear the tight black dress with a breathtakingly beautiful back? Or what about that princess dress in the front with the glittery sleeves? Oh, how much you’d love to just get in there and try all of them on, feel like a princess once again. While you did get the chance to wear something beautiful on your wedding day, you were never able to do so as a teen by actually wearing a prom dress.
“Did your prom dress look like one of these?”
You can’t supress the silent sting in your heart and bittersweet smile creeping up your face.
“I never had a prom dress, honey”, you explain gently.
The face of your daughter drops immediately, brain visibly running hot by the sheer thought of you not having a prom dress.
Despite your good financial situation now that you’ve worked hard for, you weren’t that lucky when you were young. A prom dress is expensive, a luxury not everyone is able to afford. And that everyone was your family.
“But why?”, your daughter cries out.
You kneel down to meet her eye to eye, fighting for your composure. It might be silly, but you always longed to wear a beautiful dress to a ball, to feel like a princess for a night. When apart from your prom and wedding do you even have an excuse for something like that? You missed that chance, it shouldn’t bother you-
But it kind of does.
“You know, when I grew up, my parents didn’t have as much many as your daddy and I have now. A prom dress is really expensive and not as important as paying rent and something to eat.”
“But weren’t you sad?”
“I was. And it still makes me sad”, you admit.
“But it’s okay not to get everything you want, it’s okay to cut back. And it heals me to know that I’ll buy my little princess the prettiest prom dress ever.”
With a swift motion, you pull her body closer to yours and rub your nose against hers the way it always makes her giggle.
Yes, after all, you have a family now. And that is worth way more than a prom dress.
-Later that evening-
“Okay young lady, time to go to bed”, Satoru announces playfully after giving you a kiss on the cheek, lifting his child up with ease to carry her into her room followed by heartfelt laughter.
“Daddy, I need to talk to you in secret.”
Satoru tilts his head to the side, the sudden seriousness in his daughters’ eyes being so unknown to him.
“Got ya.”
With dramatically silent steps he closes the door behind him and returns to his daughters’ bed, raising his eyebrows to show her he’s listening.
“Mommy and I walked past a shop today and she told me she never wore a prom dress!”
“Oh, really? She didn’t even tell me about that”, Satoru replies with the same outrage in his voice.
“And she looked…sad. So I thought I could buy Mommy a prom dress for her birthday to make her feel better.”
It takes all of his strength to not melt away in an instant. What a little angel is daughter is, how sweet of her to even consider something like this even though she’s only 4 years old. Oh, how much he’d love to see you in a gorgeous gown as well, maybe even take it off after your birthday...
“What a great idea kiddo! Okay, let’s make a plan. How should we call it?”
“Operation enchanting elegance!”
“Okay, well…I wanted to say operation prom dress but that sounds better I guess”, Satoru replies.
“Hear me out: Tomorrow when Mommy’s at work, we’ll sneak into that shop and you’ll pick the dress for her.”
“Deal!”
-your birthday-
“Mommy, Mommy! You need to wake up, it’s your birthday.”
“She’s right, you have to wake up babe”, the oh so familiar voice of Satoru purrs against your ear.
So you really have no chance, huh? Slowly your lids flutter open, a bright smile already plastered on your face.
And get greeted by your daughter and husband dressed in matching unicorn jumpsuits, holding the tackiest cake in their hands you’ve ever seen. Oh god.
“You guys…”, you giggle out, on the brink of losing your composure completely.
You definitely do when both of them begin to sing a very wrong sounding happy birthday. How is it even possible that your very own child heals your inner one? Those outrageous birthday parties, the endless affection you never knew. Warmth radiates from your heart all over your body, your glossy orbs catching the gaze of your already staring husband.
It’s because of him. The man who came into your life so unexpectedly, the man who swept you off your feet before you even knew how powerful he is. Satoru is your best friend, your partner in crime, your safe space. And most importantly he is the love of your life, the father of your daughter, your husband.
And nothing will ever be greater than this.
��Quiet now daddy, I’ll give Mommy her present!”
“Honey, I told you over and over you don’t have to get me something. You’re my greatest present.”
“After me”, Satoru mumbles with a sly grin, his hand gently caressing your cheek while your daughter drags the biggest box you’ve ever seen behind her.
“I love you babe.”
“I love you more”, you reply, pulling him down into a passionate kiss.
God, how much you love that man. Despite all the things he’s been through, despite all the responsivity his broad shoulders hold, Satoru never misses to show you his affection even though you’ve been together for so long now. He makes you feel loved, makes you feel special like on day one.
Not only on your birthday.
“Open it! Open it!”
“Wow, this is pretty heavy”, you comment in utter surprise.
What on earth is in there?
“Open it”, your husband begins to demand as well, his eyes glowing like the ones of his tiny daughter next to him.
These two…What are they up to again? Is it a prank gift, one of those strange souvenirs Satoru loves to bring you from his missions? Or is it something disgusting, like the ran-over rat she gifted you last time?
You open the box, ready to be greeted by literally anything.
But not by a gorgeous gown.
“You can’t be serious”, you breathe out.
What a nice glittery fabric, you never felt something this soft in your entire life. With a swift motion you get out of bed, pulling the dress out in order to see it in its full glory. This is everything you ever imagined, the one dress that caught your eye in that one show window every single time.
The show windows.
“You really bought me a prom dress?”, you cry out.
You don’t care about how pathetic you must look now. This gown is gorgeous, way better than anything you could have worn back then.
“You said you never wore a prom dress so I needed to buy you one”, your daughter explains proudly.
There is no time to waste. Faster than she’s able to react you kneel down in front of her, devouring her body with yours.
“You’re an angel my baby”, you mumble into her soft hair while she grabs your face gently and wipes your falling tears away.
“No, I’m your daughter Mommy!”
“Now try it on, Momma.”
“You are the best husband ever, Satoru…”
“Tell me something I don’t know. Now come on, show us that dress!”
“Yes Mommy, show us the dress!”
You suddenly feel so overwhelmingly special. Wearing a gorgeous gown in your bedroom, surrounded by your husband and daughter cheering for you. Is this really your life? If it’s a dream you never want to wake up again.
“You really look like a princess”, your daughter shouts in excitement, clapping into her little hands.
You can’t help but stretch out your arms, embrace her into a tight hug again. Oh, you truly don’t deserve your precious little family, you don’t deserve all the things they do for you.
“I love you…”
“…to the moon and back”, your daughter ends your sentence like she always does.
“You look pretty hot, babe…”, Satoru purrs in front of you, his eyes darken just the way you love it.
“Wait until evening.”
Bonus:
"How much money do you have?", Gojo questions while standing in front of the checkout.
"I've got...This two coins!"
"Those are 2 cents...You know we can't afford a dress from that, right?"
"That's why I take you with me Daddy!"
Tags: @waffledeath @zeyzeys-stuff @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345
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#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#jujutsu gojo#gojo saturo#gojou satoru x reader#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#satoru gojo#satoru#gojo jjk#gojou x reader#jujutsu kaisen gojo#gojo satorou#satoru x you#satoru x reader#satoru x y/n#jjk husband#gojo husband
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ʙᴀʙʏ ɪ’ᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ
Chapter 1 - “Buck’s Baby Sister”
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The sweet sound of jazz filled the speakeasy that occupied both Bucky and Buck. Like usual, the night before a mission was always spent this way. Other pilots were scattered through the place but the inseparable duo situated themselves in a booth not too far from the bar.
“Take a look around, Buck.” A drunken smile was present on Bucky’s face as he gestured to the bristling place around them. “We’ve got the drinks, we’ve got the music…”
“You know what’s missing?”
Gale let out a sigh with a shake of his head. “Don’t start.”
“We’re missing girls.”
There really was no surprise that women were at the top of John Egan’s priorities. You’d never catch him leaving the bar without one, sometimes even two.
The blonde across from him opened his mouth to retaliate but John quickly corrected himself. “I know Marge has you wrapped around her finger. I’m talking about me, Buck.”
“So, who’s the unlucky lady for tonight?” Raising his eyebrows in curiosity, Gale took a sip of his drink before returning it to its original spot on the table.
It was always the same with his friend, Bucky. No matter how much he tried to spread his influence of settling down with a nice woman on him, it never sounded appealing to John.
Bucky threw his head back with a genuine laugh. “Guess I’ll have to look around and see.”
His eyes scanned the room in interest. Wondering from face to face but nobody seemed to catch his eye. There was a brunette who had been trying to get his attention all night, she seemed to be looking for more of a long term thing so he shut that idea down quick.
His focus turned to the entrance as the door opened, ringing off the bell as it did so. In walked an unfamiliar but entrancing face.
The first thing that caught his eye was her confidence. Even though her presence attracted many onlookers and judgmental stares she never shied away.
In fact, she made eye contact with every one of them as if she was trying to find someone. Determination radiated off of her as she held tightly onto the duffel bag that she brought with her.
As her head turned it gave Bucky a view of her unique hairstyle. Unlike most ladies here, her honey blonde hair cascaded freely down her back. Only two upper pieces were pulled back into a messy braid. It seemed she had a long day by the way a few strands had escaped and were now framing her face but she made it look so damn beautiful.
The top of her navy blue cargo dress fit her perfectly giving Bucky a display of her slim waist. As she continued to look around the bottom of it softly swayed with her like she was a princess in one of those old time movies.
Bucky didn’t even feel ashamed or embarrassed when her gaze had stopped at his and Bucks table. It was hard to look away from her and he wanted her to know that.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” The gruff voice of Buck reached his ears causing him to glance over.
There was an apparent smile of what Bucky could decipher as pride on his friends face as he too stared at the new lady.
Returning his attention to the pretty stranger, he noticed a cheeky smile make its way onto her face. And she was looking at Buck.
She was looking at Buck. Not him.
A million questions clouded his mind wondering how the two could possible know each other. I mean, his buddy was head over heels in love with Marge.
Buck stood up as she started to head toward them. “They let you in?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” With a mischievous shrug of her shoulders she let out a playful giggle that was music to Bucky’s ears.
Once she was close enough she dropped her bag and brought the taller man in for a long hug which he returned a little too quickly for Bucky’s liking.
“I missed you, Gales.”
Gales?
“I missed you too, Lilah.”
That’ll do it. This has to stop.
With an obnoxious clear of his throat Bucky smiled sarcastically as the pair turned to him. “Hate to break this cosy reunion up but my pal Buck here isn't a free man.”
That statement caused the two to quickly jump away from each other like one had burned the other. A look of disgust made its way onto the woman’s face as she tried not to gag.
Noticing, Bucky tried not to laugh at the reaction but was even more fascinated by her sense of humor.
“No, John.” Nodding his head to the girl next to Bucky he denied the ridiculous statement. “This is my baby sister, Delilah.”
A sense of recognition made its way onto Bucky’s face. Gale had mentioned her many times before.
His baby sister who he had taken care of since he could remember. His baby sister who held the biggest place in his heart. His baby sister who was one of the main reasons he was here in the first place.
Now up close, Bucky took a good look at the unusually short blonde and only one thing could come to mind.
Buck’s baby sister had to be the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen.
“Ah, Delilah.” Slapping his hands on the table in excitement, Bucky stood up to softly grab her right hand. He brought it to his lips to place a soft kiss on the back of it. “Bucky’s baby sister.”
Although she was flattered, Delilah ignored the warmth rushing to cheeks and took her hand back from the charming pilot. “And the new mechanic, yeah.”
“Oh? Gotta admit I’m a little surprised. Usually the new mechanics aren’t pretty like you. Or a woman for that matter.”
“Guess those mechanics aren’t as good as me either considering I’m here to teach them.”
Now it was her turn to give him a sarcastic smile. It was very rare for a woman to be sighted on the station, let alone on the front lines of it all so Delilah didn’t hold it to him.
Bucky rolled his tongue along the side of his mouth as he stared at the girl impressed with her comeback. Another box to check on his list of things he likes in a woman.
“Guess so.”
The two seemed to forget there were people around them as they stared at each other in curiosity.
“John Egan. They call me Bucky.”
It was nice to put a name to the face. Whenever Buck had written back to her he would always mention him.
Bucky the man who had given Buck his own nickname. Bucky who had kept him on his toes. Bucky who he had spoken so highly of as a friend.
“I know.” She nodded. “The way Gale speaks about you in his letters I was expecting maybe a cape, a fan club-”
Before she could continue Buck urgently picked up her bag and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Glad you two could meet but it’s getting late, yeah? I’ll walk you to your quarters, help you settle in.”
“But I didn’t even get an autograph yet.”
Looking between the sibling duo, Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. Never in his time of knowing Buck had he seen him act so nervous. The two seemed to be close by the way she felt she could joke with him so freely. It made Bucky miss his family.
“Maybe I’ll tag along.” He spoke breaking the siblings teasing. He left a few bills on the table for the waiter and threw on his jacket. His eyes finding Delilah’s once more. “Get to know Bucks little sister more.”
“You really don’t have to.” Not only did Gale decline for the sake of avoiding another embarrassing encounter but he also caught the looks Bucky and his sister were stealing of each other.
And he didn’t like, not one bit.
“I insist, Buck.”
The three made their way to the exit. Turning around Delilah kept walking backwards as she faced the two. “Well, only if you insist. But this whole ‘Buck’s baby sister’ thing will just not do.”
“Okay,” Bucky nodded. That was fair. Opening the door for the two he smiled as Delilah passed him. “How bout ‘Baby’?”
“What? From like Dirty Dancing?”
Bucky nodded to her, a little embarrassed to admit that he watched Dirty Dancing. He almost regretted his words until she gave him a look that read ‘where have you been all my life?’
“Baby…” she tested the name before smiling.“I like it.”
Chapter 2 here!
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A/N: Hope you guys liked it! Comment and lmk your thoughts. I kept getting Bucky and Buck mixed up so if you see a little typo just ignore it😘.
How do you guys like Delilah so far?
I tried to make her and Bucks sibling relationship as real as possible.
And you already know Bucky’s down bad for her but I want it to be a little slow burn
#bucky egan#mota spoilers#john egan#buck cleven#mota#john egan x oc#major john egan#john egan x reader#mota fanfic#gale cleven#Masters Of The Air#madelyn cline#callum turner#callum turner x reader#austin butler
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The Holy Relics
Note: requested by @synintheraven! I'm guessing this is not what you had in mind, but this is where my inspiration took me. I had a blast writing this and hope you'll enjoy reading it!
Warnings: fluff, bad comedy and some misogyny.
pairing: Detective!Sihtric x you (f)
summary: being a female detective in the '80s isn't easy, and your new partner didn't make it any easier either.
wordcount: 4,4k
Masterlist
If the man in front of you would open his mouth one more time you were probably going to explode. It was a Monday morning and you were at your favourite coffee spot, scoring a drink before heading into the station to work on a new case. It was busy, as per usual, as everyone needed their caffeine fix and there seemed to be a new barista at work, for the line was growing longer behind you and barely moving in front of you. You had been waiting at least ten minutes already and, yes, you were annoyed too. But you understood that everyone has to learn a new skill at some point, so you waited patiently for the stressed out looking barista to complete the orders of the people ahead of you. However, not everyone was as understanding as you were.
'Fucking hell,' a young student behind you sighed, and she left the line not much later.
You watched her run out of the coffee shop and to the bus stop across the street, where she managed to hop on the bus just before it departed. The man in front of you had been compulsively checking his watch and kept muttering under his breath, and it annoyed you greatly, just like the old hag who was behind you now also started to mumble her complaints.
'Can't you hurry up?' the man in front of you raised his voice, 'I have a job to go to!'
'I- I'm sorry,' the barista stammered, his cheeks turning crimson while he desperately tried to not drop two full cups.
'Be patient, sir. We all have a job to go to,' you sighed.
The man turned to face you, looked you up and down with disgust and then scoffed.
'We all have a job to go to,' he mocked you and made a face, then turned his back to you again.
'Wow,' you chuckled at him, then mumbled, 'someone's a man child.'
'Who gave you permission to leave your kitchen?' the man mumbled back over his shoulder and checked his watch again.
'Sexist asshole,' you scoffed, and you both huffed at each other.
'How much longer will this take?' the old lady behind you questioned.
'If you're all going to keep adding pressure on that poor guy, it will take even longer,' you snapped at her, and the old lady figured you were right and mumbled an apology.
'Some people just aren't fit for their jobs,' the man child retorted.
'Oh, and what is your job then that you are so perfect for?' you hissed.
'None of your fucking business.'
'Watch your language, young man,' the old lady sounded from behind you.
Before you could speak again the line suddenly moved as another barista was called in for help. And before you knew it you were paying for your coffee while the man child added some extra sugar in his. He glared at you before he rushed out of the shop, and the old lady who was behind you wished you a nice day, which took you by surprise but also reminded you that not everyone is as rude as they may seem. You jumped in your car and made your way to the station, making it in time just barely and clocking in only a minute before your shift started. You greeted your detective colleagues and made haste to the already empty briefing room where you only saw your Captain. Your day hadn't been off to the best start, and it got worse when you heard that your usual detective partner, Ragnar, had been abruptly transferred to a different city and you were immediately introduced to his replacement.
'This is detective Kjartansson,' Captain Beocca smiled proudly as he introduced the newest addition to his team who stepped through the door, 'Sihtric here will be your new partner.'
Your eyes widened and anger began to boil inside of you, your hands itching while your heart rate became dangerously high.
'You've got to be fucking kidding me,' you scoffed and stared at the new detective, who looked just as surprised as you. 'Oh no, absolutely not,' you shook your head and looked at Beocca, 'I'm not working with this guy.'
'But he's one of the best in the business,' Beocca said, dumbfounded at your reaction, 'the contracts have been signed, you two will have to work together,' he shrugged and pushed a pile of case files in your hands, then quickly left the briefing room.
'Unbelievable,' you muttered and looked at the man child you had argued with at the coffee shop, who had apparently been in a rush because it was his first day at your station.
'Yeah, well, tell me about it,' Sihtric rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee.
You stared at each other with a heated passion, and you wanted to claw his mismatched eyes out when he looked you up and down again and you remembered his sexist remark. You gave him a disgusted face and pinned the case files against his chest, forcing him to clumsily get a hold of the paperwork before it would fall and scatter over the floor.
'I hope you are fit for your job, you pig,' you hissed and turned on your heels.
You studied Sihtric as you sat across the table from him. You couldn't deny he was handsome, with his slightly scarred face and his long dark hair, which was braided on top and you were jealous of the curls he had in the back. His goatee and moustache were well kept and the tattoo in his neck on those on his fingers were attractive. He was wearing black jeans and a black blouse with a red tie, which was an odd combination with the rugged looking black leather jacket he wore on top. Sihtric earned a lot of smiles from the ladies who stopped by the donut shop you were in, if only they knew how rude he could be. You were glad that you weren't dressed as obvious detectives, because reading through case files in a donut shop was an awful cliché, and you had argued against going there. But Sihtric was stubborn and hungry, so there was no point in trying to change his mind. You watched him judgingly as he stuffed his mouth with one donut after the other, leaving sticky fingerprints all over the paperwork and your hands began to itch again at how reckless and careless he seemed to be.
'So,' he said, barely audible because his mouth was full, 'this stolen relic is one of many?'
'Yes,' you tried to keep your cool, 'churches are being targeted for their holy relics. Once stolen they seem to just vanish. We haven't found any of them back so far, this is just another one to add to the list. Usually this is a case for the local cops, but more and more relics have gone missing, whoever is behind it is not sticking to one town anymore.'
'What do you think happens with the relics?'
'Only God knows,' you shrugged.
'Have you asked him?'
'Asked who?'
'God,' Sihtric snorted, proud of his joke.
You glared at the detective with his stupid grin, your face completely emotionless, and soon Sihtric's amusement faded away too. You refused to respond to his stupidity and told him that you think the relics might either be destroyed by non-believers or simply sold, as they are worth good money. Sihtric agreed those reasons seemed logical, and he licked his donut-glazed fingers clean before leaving to pay a visit to the most recently targeted church.
'They just… they… they took the arm,' Osferth stammered, still completely in shock from his find a few days ago.
The poor monk had entered his church and found the coffin of Saint Cuthbert vandalised. To his horror he discovered that the recently preserved body of the Saint had been damaged, and his arm had been taken.
'Just the arm?' you frowned, 'why just the arm?'
'I truly don't know, detective,' Osferth fought his tears, 'only God knows.'
Sihtric exhaled sharply next to you and you saw a grin tugging at his lips. You elbowed him as a warning to not ask poor Osferth if he had "asked God".
'Perhaps the whole body was just too impractical,' you guessed, 'or they got disturbed. You really didn't see or hear anything when you arrived here?'
'No, nothing,' Osferth said sadly, 'it looked planned to me. Like they only wanted the arm, maybe because it still had rings on the fingers perhaps,' he looked suddenly panicked.
'We'll try everything to return the bones to this church,' you tried to calm Osferth.
'Thank you, detective. God bless you.'
The young monk let out a soft sob and made the sign of the cross as Sihtric took out his little notepad.
'So,' Sihtric cleared his throat and clicked his pen, 'the arm, what did it look like?'
You and Osferth looked up at Sihtric, with a puzzled look on both your faces.
'Well… it's… it's an arm, detective,' Osferth said slowly, 'it's… it's bones.'
'Right,' Sihtric said, then tucked away his notepad and sniffed, realising how dumb his question had been but too proud to openly acknowledge his stupidity.
You and Osferth watched your partner awkwardly look around the church, then you quickly thanked Osferth for his time and left the holy building. You got back into the car, seated next to Sihtric in the passenger seat as he insisted that he was a better driver because he was a man, and you began to laugh.
'What's so funny?' Sihtric frowned.
'What did the arm look like?' you mocked him, 'you idiot.'
'Shut up,' Sihtric huffed and started the car.
A few days later an anonymous tip had gotten in about a church which might be the next target. You and Sihtric were to stake out at the building at night, keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity. Since you were undercover, and because the stake out may last all night, you were both dressed rather comfortably in jeans and a hoodie, no weapons. You and Sihtric didn't speak much while you sat in the car as he was making a crossword to keep himself entertained, but whenever you did communicate you only bickered. You still wanted Sihtric to apologise for his sexist comment in the coffee shop, while he kept pushing that he wanted to get out of the car and go inside the church to look around.
'Don't do it,' you argued against his plan, 'we're not carrying any weapons, we shouldn't venture inside right now, not knowing who or how many people we might find.'
'I get it,' Sihtric sighed and looked at you, his mismatched eyes lit up by a ray of silver moon light, 'you're scared.'
'Scared? What should I be scared of?'
'It's okay,' he smiled sweetly, 'but there's nothing to be afraid of. Even if there is anyone inside right now, I'll protect you,' he winked and flexed his biceps.
'What the fuck,' you whispered, bewildered, 'I'm not fucking scared, Sihtric! I'm being smart! You can't just go and look for people when we don't even know who we're looking for!'
'Look,' Sihtric sighed, 'I'm not going to ask you to do something you're clearly afraid to do. You can stay in the car and I'll go and have a look on my own.'
'Absolutely not!' you barked and grabbed his arm when he attempted to open the car door, 'we are not going in there!'
'Fine!' Sihtric growled and shook your hand off his arm, 'we won't go inside, but at least let me take a look if there is any activity in the graveyard behind the church.'
'The graveyard is closed.'
'And?'
'And? It means we'd have to climb the walls to get in! That's… that's a felony.'
'Yeah,' Sihtric scoffed, 'that's exactly what criminals do, so we should check it out.'
You groaned and figured it was impossible to argue with this guy, so you followed him reluctantly towards the secluded graveyard. Once you reached the walls that shielded the resting place from the outside world, Sihtric couldn't deny that they had seemed lower from a distance and he agreed there was no way he could climb over them. But he then remembered he had seen a large ladder next to the church entrance, and he ran towards the spot. Not much later he came back, carrying an old wooden ladder which looked as if it was rotting, and he placed it against the wall.
'Eh,' you said nervously, 'this ladder looks like it hasn't been used in ages. I don't think this is a good idea, you might fall and get hurt-'
'Darling,' Sihtric said sternly and placed one finger against your lips to silence you, 'I really appreciate your concern about my wellbeing, but I will be fine.'
'I just really think you shouldn't-,' you stopped talking when Sihtric ignored you and began to climb the ladder.
You stood back, watching with your hands on your hips. The ladder made several creaking noises as Sihtric continued to climb higher, and you gasped while he held his breath when he suddenly broke one wooden step. He clung onto the ladder, his heart beating out of his chest, and you both watched the rotten piece of wood fall down.
'See!' you hissed, 'stop climbing! Just get back here!'
'It's only like two more steps and then I can look over the wall,' Sihtric argued, 'I'm not giving up now, so just shut up and let me do this!'
'Sihtric!' you yelled with a whisper, 'you are such a little sh-' you were hushed by the loud sound of snapping wood, and before you could blink you heard a heavy thump and saw Sihtric with his back on the grass in front of you, and he groaned.
'Holy shit!' you gasped and crouched down next to him, 'see! I fucking told you!'
'Yeah, I'm fine, thanks for asking!' he snarled and tried to push himself up, but hissed in pain and reached for his right arm as he did.
'Sure, fine my ass,' you grumbled, 'pretty sure you broke something, we better get you to a hospital. Nice one!'
Sihtric kept telling you he was fine and managed to stumble to the car, but when he moaned in agony as he tried to open the car door you pushed him towards the passenger side and drove him to the nearest hospital. In the hospital you got proven right, because Sihtric had broken his arm and it was to be placed in a cast.
'Well,' you said as you both looked at the x-ray photo of his broken bone, 'at least now you'll have a clear idea of what that stolen arm should look like.'
A few weeks had passed and you finally got a lead on the stolen relics. All traces seemed to lead back to a guy named Aethelhelm, and you were staking out again at a different church this time, hoping to catch him.
'I just don't get it,' Sihtric mumbled as he watched the church, 'why would someone who works for the church steal those things?'
'Because they are worth a lot of money,' you sighed.
'But doesn't it go against their beliefs?'
'I guess. But this guy is a wolf in sheep's clothing. The more relics he has, the more he can sell, the more money he will get and that will give him more power.'
'I guess that makes sense,' Sihtric agreed.
'Maybe you should've fallen on your head,' you snickered and poked the cast around his broken arm, 'it might've knocked some sense into you.'
'What exactly is your problem with me?' Sihtric suddenly snapped.
You scoffed, refusing to answer. You were convinced Sihtric knew you didn't like him very much because of that first impression at the coffee shop. Sure, he wasn't all that bad once you got to know him better, but first impressions always last. And he simply wasn't the brightest sometimes, which annoyed you as well. Sihtric wasn't as serious as you while on the job, and you often struggled with his jokes and playful nature.
'I don't have a problem with you,' you muttered.
'You clearly do, lady.'
'You clearly have a problem with me,' you hissed, 'so what is it? Do you have a crush on me or something?'
'Excuse me?' Sihtric spat, 'oh, I see… so that's your problem.'
'What?'
'You,' he grinned, 'you have a crush on me.'
'No I don't!'
'You totally do, I can see you're blushing.'
'Shut up!' you huffed.
'Oh, you so wanna kiss me,' Sihtric laughed, 'don't lie.'
'I don't!
'You do.'
'I really don't,' you gritted your teeth.
'Why not?'
'Because why would I?!' you yelled and threw your hands up.
'You're just afraid,' Sihtric taunted.
'What? Afraid to catch a disease?' you gave him a disgusted look, 'yeah, I am afraid.'
'No,' he squinted his eyes and leaned in, 'you're afraid you'll like it.'
'Oh, please,' you scowled, 'as if you'd be that good.'
'I might be.'
'I doubt it.'
'You know you wanna find out,' Sihtric smiled slyly and winked.
'Will you shut the fuck up if we'd kiss?'
'Maybe.'
You stared at Sihtric, your eyes were burning and your jaw clenched tightly. He knew how to grind your gears and it irritated you beyond words. You just wanted to do your job, but this man kept being a nuisance and distracting you from what's actually important right now.
'Fine,' you sighed, as if nothing suddenly mattered anymore, 'let's get this over then.'
You grabbed onto Sihtric's leather jacket and pulled him towards you, your lips crashed into each other and awkwardly locked for a few long seconds. Then Sihtric moved his cast-free arm and brought his hand up to your face, cupping your cheek. He pulled away just enough to capture your lips more gently, and it allowed him to deepen the kiss with ease, his tongue stroking slowly and sensually against yours, making your knees weak and your head empty for a moment. Your hands seemed to have a life of their own, as they roamed up towards his neck, and then your fingers were suddenly tangled in his curls. His facial hair pricked pleasantly against your face with each movement Sihtric made, and you slowly became oblivious to your surroundings. You only heard the blood rush in your ears and the sound of his slow and heavy breaths along with the sounds of your lips and tongues. You felt your heartbeat in your throat and a warmth slowly spread through your entire body when you felt his hand move up to the back of your neck. You grabbed his face with one hand while you tugged his hair with the other, earning a soft, deep moan from Sihtric which was followed by a chuckle as he slowly broke the kiss, giving you a few more open mouthed pecks and strokes of his tongue against yours before he pulled away slightly and looked at you.
'Not so snappy anymore now, are you?' he murmured against your lips.
'You're the worst detective I ever worked with,' you breathed.
'Oh, yeah?' Sihtric smiled against your lips, then sucked your lower lip and gave you another soft peck, 'as are you.'
'Do you ever shut the hell up?' you mumbled, lightheaded.
'You know… you can't talk to a detective like that,' he said softly, lips still touching, 'someone needs to take care of that attitude of yours.'
'Yes, detective,' you whispered and smiled, to which Sihtric hummed and pulled you in for another long kiss.
You had only wanted him to shut up. Yes, maybe you thought he was pretty hot too and the kiss was great, but you would never give him the satisfaction of telling him that he was indeed a good kisser. When you started to come back to your senses again you abruptly pulled away, remembering you were on a stake out, and you wiped your lips with the sleeve of your hoodie while Sihtric sat back and wiped his mouth with his hand before he looked at the church again.
'Well,' you said nonchalantly, 'I guess it was okay,' you lied, the colour of your cheeks and your dazed eyes betraying your true feelings.
If only Sihtric wasn't as pleasantly overwhelmed as you were, he would've noticed you struggled to compose yourself again, indicating that you absolutely downplayed the effect the kiss actually had on you, but his cheeks had slightly reddened too and he wouldn't let you see it.
'Anyway,' you cleared your throat, 'we… we should call it a night. We've been here for hours and there hasn't been any activity-'
'Wait a minute,' Sihtric interrupted, 'there was a black van parked near the church for as long as we've been here. And it's… it's gone.'
'So how exactly did you two manage to miss out on the only moving vehicle in hours?!' Beocca asked, his face reddened with anger while he paced back and forth in his office.
'Well… we… I don't know,' you mumbled.
You and Sihtric had agreed that there was no way you were going to tell Beocca that you could've caught Aethelhelm in the act if you hadn't been sticking your tongues down each other's throat during the stake out the night before.
'We're sorry,' Sihtric added a mumble of his own.
'This is just… it's unbelievable!' Beocca yelled, 'I have no other choice than taking you two off the case. This is just ridiculous! Staking out for hours and somehow missing-' he paused in an attempt to calm his anger, 'Detectives Finan and Uhtred will take over the case, they've been looking into the other stolen relics already and have made better progress!'
'No, please!' you tried, but to no avail as Beocca continued his outburst.
'And you two will be sorting old files in the basement for the next few weeks! You imbeciles!' he snarled and left his office.
'This is all your fucking fault,' you punched Sihtric's casted arm, and he groaned.
Not much later you and Sihtric were going through piles of old dusty files, deciding if they could be destroyed or put in the records room. You had been furious with Sihtric, but your anger slowly made way for sadness. Even if he annoyed you, you had grown fond of him and you couldn't deny that the past few weeks with him had been exciting. You blamed him for being taken off the case, but you were just as guilty as he was and you felt the need to apologise.
'Don't worry about it,' Sihtric replied, 'it happened. At least we weren't fired.'
'Being taken off a case is worse,' you said softly.
Sihtric didn't know what to say, and you looked away when suddenly your disappointment took over and you began to weep silently. Sihtric didn't notice it as he was going through the files, and when you sniffled several times he thought you just needed to sneeze.
'Do you need a tissue?' he asked, 'it's really dusty in here. Maybe you should blow your nose before you sneeze all over these fil-'
'I don't need to fucking sneeze!' you yelled desperately through your tears.
'Oh,' Sihtric gasped as he realised you were crying, 'what's wrong?'
'Everything!' you cried, 'I worked so hard to get where I am, to work on big cases as a woman in a station that's filled with men. Men who fuck up all the time and no one even cares. But I made one mistake, which wasn't even a life threatening one, and see where it landed me! It's so unfair!' you sobbed.
Sihtric clicked his tongue and sighed, feeling bad for you. He dropped the files on the floor next to him and crawled past the file boxes towards you.
'Come here,' Sihtric said softly and carefully pulled you in his arms, his cast resting on your shoulders, 'it's okay. I mean… I can't say that I understand it, because I don't, but I do know you're a good detective. Beocca was pretty harsh with his decision, but then we all know how much of a religious man he is, so I guess this case is just personal to him,' he reasoned, 'this is only temporary, you will get another case again, I'm sure of it.'
'How do you know?' you sniffled in his arms, your head resting against his chest while he leaned his chin on top of your head.
'Because you're smarter than most people in this station, and Beocca knows that too. I'm sorry I riled you up, and I'm sorry I was so rude in that coffee shop. I had no reason to say those things, I was just stressed about this new job and I took it out on the wrong people. I know you miss your previous partner, and I'm sorry he was transferred. I'll see what I can do,' Sihtric sighed, 'you know, maybe I can swap with him or something, and get him back here.'
You looked up at Sihtric and he wiped your tears.
'Would you really do that?'
'You know… I've really grown to like you,' he smiled sweetly, 'so if you want me to try and transfer, I would for you, even if it would sadden me.'
You exhaled sharply and then shrugged at him as you sat back. You mindlessly began to doodle on his arm cast while you went over your thoughts. Sihtric just looked at you, trying to figure out what you were thinking and not being aware you were drawing on his cast.
'I don't know,' you sniffled after a moment, 'maybe I don't want you to transfer anymore.'
You smiled faintly at Sihtric before you got up, telling him you needed some air and a coffee. Sihtric said you should take a short break and that he'd stay in the basement, sorting files, which you agreed to and promised you'd be back in ten minutes. Sihtric watched you walk out the door, and when he reached out to pick up some files he noticed his cast, and he smiled at the little heart you had drawn on it just yet.
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Consequences
Pairing: dom!Benedict Bridgerton x sub!female reader
Summary: Benedict teaches his new wife the consequences of misbehaving
Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, dom/sub relationship, bondage, oral sex (f to m, m to f), deepthroat, choking, face-fucking, punishment with crop, spanking, fingering, vaginal sex, dirty talk. Also contains elements of brat taming, public teasing, light degradation, praise kink, aftercare.
Word Count: 4.3k (woah, sorry!)
Authors Note: This is a request fill for @foreverlonginguniverse (Request: Could you possibly do a fic with Benedict where he decides to teach you a lesson for being such a tease? I feel like he could have a BDSM side to him, where, if you hit the right switch, Dom Benedict comes out. And he’s nowhere near as nice as he comes off in everyday life.) I hope you enjoy this lovely lady. <3 Thank you as always to my wonderful beta makaylan :)
You know you shouldn't, but you can't help yourself.
It's another boring ball of the season, and you resent the fact that you have to attend; and that you must also play the part of a demure wife. Especially when your thoughts are plagued with the opposite, you are lust filled, desperate for him to take you home, away from all this pomp and ceremony. It’s been three weeks of marital bliss, and you never want to leave your bedroom. So to liven up the evening, you decide to be just a little wicked, take every opportunity to touch and tease your husband—the more inappropriate, the better.
You grab a handful of his bum as he talks to some old drooling baron or other, giggling heartily when he almost drops his champagne. He removes your hand with a disapproving frown; you wink and whirl away before he can say anything.
A little while later, he is chatting to Lady Danbury when you lean in and whisper in his ear, “I’m so wet for you, husband.” He makes a choked, almost pained noise. There’s no way Lady Danbury heard what you said, but his reaction tells her all she needs to know.
“Child, I remember the first flush of wedded bliss. But there is also the matter of propriety,” she raises an eyebrow, “You would do well to remember that,” she taps her cane on the floor for emphasis, then moves on.
Benedict looks at you harshly. “There’s a time and a place, wife.”
You stick out your tongue just a little and go to get another champagne.
The next time you catch him, his lower half is concealed from view as he stands in front of a high-top table draped in golden fabric. You forcefully grab his crotch, making him cough and jump.
“What are you playing at?” he hisses harshly.
“I want you to take me home and fuck me,” you whine, not moving your hand, cupping and squeezing him instead.
He exhales gustily, but his face looks pinched.
“Stop that,” he gruffs.
“Why?” you drawl playfully.
He grabs your wrist and surprises you by bending your arm behind your back and whispering in your ear.
“Be careful what you wish for, wife.” his voice is low and carries a tinge of danger, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, exhilarated. It’s like a switch has flipped, and your amiable husband has become something different altogether.
“Tell me more,” you murmur back, enthralled.
He raises an eyebrow, and his face takes on a flintiness you’ve never seen before. “If you don't behave, you’ll know just how harsh I can be.”
“Is that a challenge, my love?” you tease, surprising yourself with just how breathy you sound.
“In your wedding vows, you promised to honour and obey me,” his voice testy. “So tell me, wife, do you want to find out just how much I can make you obey?”
You know your pupils dilate at that. Oh god, yes, you do. “Make me,” you challenge—the thrill racing down your limbs.
“We are leaving now,” his tone brokers no argument as he drops your arm. You smile, knowing you’ve got your way.
The whole ride home, you burn with suspense about what he will do to you. Since your wedding day, he has opened a new world of sexual pleasure for you. But this feels like something entirely different. A whole side to him you never knew existed. And by god, you’re finding it attractive.
As you walk into your home, his hand is firm on your lower back, and he guides you immediately up the stairs.
“Under no circumstances should we be disturbed until morning Smith,” he calls out with a dismissive gesture towards his valet. “Doesn’t matter what you hear coming from our bed-chamber, no one should approach. Is that clear?” Smith nods solemnly and scurries away.
Butterflies roar into life in your stomach as he herds you into the bedroom and flicks the door lock.
“You’ve been teasing me publically all night, dear wife. You need to learn such actions have consequences,” he cautions, staring you down.
He somehow looks taller, more imposing than usual. His face has harsher contours. A static hot shiver slides down your spine.
“And I’ve heard quite enough from your insolent tongue today. You may only speak if I ask you to. Or if you don’t like something I’m doing, say Red. Otherwise, you stay quiet,” he snarls and walks behind you.
“Bene…,” you begin, but he clasps his hand roughly over your mouth from behind.
“What did I just say?” He warns hot against your ear. “And you call me Sir tonight, or you don’t call me anything. Do you understand me?” He removes the hand away from your mouth.
You nod.
“Answer me,” he orders.
“Yes, Sir,” you respond breathily. The last word feels weighty in your mouth.
“That’s more like it,” he clicks his tongue, “now take off all your clothes,” a commandment as he starts to circle you.
Oh yes. You start to pull at your dress, but you need help; the buttons are behind you. It's usually your lady's maid’s job to help you undress from this type of gown.
“Having trouble?” his voice is tinged with bemusement as he watches you struggle, smirking when he passes in front of you.
“Yes. Please help me, Sir,” you request.
He reaches behind you and rips it open violently, the fabric tear going down your back to your waist.
“Why did you do that?” you pout; the dress is beyond repair now.
Suddenly his large hand grabs your jaw, pushing your chin up to look at him.
“Did I ask you a question?” his tone is steely.
You shake your head the best you can under his grip. “No.”
“No, who?”
“No, Sir,” you correct.
“Then why are you talking?” he growls, pursing his lips disapprovingly. “If I want to rip your dress, I will. If I want you to strip, you will. If I want you to be silent, you will be. Without question. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Sir,” the thrill of him being so utterly authoritative is doing things you never imagined to your body.
You peel off your clothes under his heavy gaze - your ripped dress, chemise, and underwear. You are left in only your stockings when he stops you with a hand on your shoulder.
“Hand me your stockings once you take them off,” he requests.
The heat from the roaring fire warms your naked skin as you do as asked, placing one then the other in his outstretched palm. He pulls them roughly between his hands, testing their strength.
“Excellent, this will do,” he utters and disappears behind you. “Clasp your hands behind your back.”
You do as told; then, you feel the silk of one of your stockings loop around your forearm and wrists. A thrill runs through you right to your core. He pulls it tight and makes a knot to bind it. There’s a slight discomfort in your arms, but somehow that heightens the throb you now feel between your legs.
The hand returns to your shoulder, pushing down slightly. “Kneel,” he commands.
Oh. As you obey, you feel a trickle down your thighs, anticipation burning bright in your belly. You are right on the edge of the rug, your knees on its plush texture, but your feet are on the polished wood.
“Widen your knees,” he instructs; you feel the woollen fibres of the rug catch against your skin as you push them further apart. “Arch your back,” you do as bidden, your breasts pushed out. This position feels so lewd, so open.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, one hand stroking your hair. You feel him place something cold in your palm, a little pebble.
“If you need me to stop, you drop that behind you onto the wooden floor,” he instructs, “because you’re not going to be able to say a word for a while.” The warning catches your breath. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” you exhale, your heartbeat speeding up as you realise what he’s about to do.
He rounds in front of you, releasing the buttons on his trousers, his wedding ring flashing in the candlelight. He takes hold of his cock, already rigid and leaking; he smears the wetness at his tip over your lips.
“Take me in your mouth,” he states.
You part your lips, taking a breath as he plunges in without ceremony, nudging towards the back of your mouth. You are eager to please him, to take him all the way down, you don't want him to be gentle, and he is not. The hand in your hair grips tighter as he pushes in a slow rhythm, deeper on every stroke, until he is into your throat, your nose pressed against his pubic hair, where his scent is so heady and all male.
As he holds you there with a firm hand, you feel silk wrap around your neck and realise he is looping your other stocking around you like a makeshift noose. He moves to hold the ends in either hand. Then he pulls on the fabric, and it keeps you locked in place on his cock, constricting your windpipe even tighter against him deep inside you. Your clit throbs as your body fights for air. This feels dangerous, so heady, intoxicating. With your hands tied, you cannot control how he uses you. You grip tighter onto the little pebble in your hand, determined not to drop it.
He pulls his cock halfway out, slackening the material around your neck, then pushes back in with a low groan, pulling the stocking tight again so you are flush against his body, bound and choked onto his cock.
“Fuck,” he mutters darkly, a slight tremble in his legs.
He doesn’t pull out, but he loosens the noose. Wanting so much to please him, you swirl your tongue against the underside of his shaft, drool escaping your mouth and running down your chin.
“Look up at me,” he groans, “Say my name,”
You attempt to voice it, holding his gaze as your eyes water, but it's just a muffled noise that vibrates against him, making him moan harder.
“God, yes, your throat was made for me to punish,” he stutters, yanking more on the stocking, winding the ends around his fists. You feel the restriction pulling you even tighter onto him. The silk is digging into your skin, your throat closing. You struggle for air, your whole world narrowing to the chokehold he has and the feel of yourself leaking out onto the rug beneath you.
Just as you start to feel lightheaded, he pulls out, strings of saliva roping from your mouth to his glistening cock. Your stocking flutters down against your breasts as he releases it from his hands. You gasp for air, your lungs burning, your throat raspy.
“I’m not done with you yet,” his voice is dangerous.
After allowing you a few breaths, his hands clasp around your head, cupped over your ears, and he pushes back into your mouth. He rocks into you with deep, swift thrusts, allowing you no reprieve. You can only listen to the gurgling, drooling sounds you make as he fucks into your throat as if it were your pussy. You wish you had your hands to control the depth and the speed, but you are powerless as he uses you. It’s shocking how much it turns you on; it makes you utterly mindless for him. That little pebble in your hand is a reminder to keep clasping. You don't want him to stop. If this is punishment, he can punish you all day.
He pulls out suddenly and drops to one knee, his hand cups between your legs. You cry out at the sudden contact with your pulsing swollen flesh.
“I want so much to come and make you swallow it all,” he growls, “but you are enjoying this far too much; you are actually soiling our beautiful rug, my filthy wife,” he tuts, dragging a finger through your soaked folds. “This is no punishment for you, is it? You will need to feel the consequences another way. Stay there.”
He takes the pebble from your hand, unwinds the stocking from your neck, and then stalks away to his dressing room. You stay as told - kneeling on your haunches, hands bound, a shiver travelling down your spine at the prospect of what he might do next.
It doesn't take him long to return. He’s now naked; you drink in the view as he approaches you. From his defined calves, up his muscular legs to his cock standing proud against his body still wet with your saliva, up his defined torso, you see your white silk stocking slung onto one of his broad shoulders. Admiring the view so much, you initially don’t notice there’s a long, slender item in his right hand. You realise it’s his riding crop as he stops directly before you.
This is to be your real punishment. This may hurt. But yet you don’t have fear, just a tangy, almost metallic taste of desire. In this heightened state, you know you will let him do anything to you, whatever he asks. You also realise he is right - he can make you obey him. Submit yourself wholly to his demands. And love it. Crave it.
He moves the crop so that the leather tongue rests on your jaw.
“Your body is mine to punish,” his tone gruff as he runs the crop slowly down over your chin and neck. “Say it.”
“My body is yours to punish,” you echo, chest fluttering as he slides the crop lower, over your collarbone and the top of your left breast, trailing goosebumps in its wake.
“Repeat,” he commands, dragging the tongue of the crop so that it rests against the lower curve of your breast.
“My bod…” you stop mid-sentence as he lashes a blow onto your breast, the stinging pain stealing your breath and bowing your head.
“Look up at me and start again,” he orders.
“My body is yours to punish,” you hiss, holding his piercing gaze as he skillfully lands a second blow on the same spot. Your breast blooms darker, and it aches deliciously, a searing pain that connects right to the throbbing in your clit.
“You will not tease without permission,” he prompts, moving the crop to your other breast.
“I will not tease without permission,” you repeat.
A blow rains down, a mirror position of those to your other breast.
“Again,” Benedict demands.
“I will not tease…,” you wheeze as he strikes again, forcing down a cry to complete the sentence “...without permission.,”
A lash lands right next to your nipple. You squeal at the pain, and he instantly flicks the crop close to the other nipple, sending a lightning strike into both breasts and another squeal. Your skin flushes from his punishment.
He is breathing loudly as he grabs you and hauls you to your feet. You stumble slightly at the suddenness of movement, your hands still bound tight behind you.
“You will not tease me again in public without my consent, do you understand me?” he growls, his hand tight around your throat, a glint in his eye you have never seen before. It's exhilarating.
“Yes, Sir,” you whisper, feeling the ache in your breasts increase as he quickly tweaks your nipples.
“Good girl,” he breathes. “Open your mouth,” you heed his request without hesitation, and he shoves the crop between your teeth. “Hold onto this for me. If it falls, I will whip your backside so red you won't be able to sit for a week,” he warns testily. Your eyes are like saucers at the prospect, so you bite down hard to keep the crop balanced over your tongue, breathing heavily through your nose.
He back you up until your shoulder blades bump into one of the thick wooden columns surrounding your bed. He takes the stocking from his shoulder, twines it around the column, and then loops it into the one already restraining your arms. On instinct, you test your bindings; they are soft but unyielding.
“You look so beautiful, totally at my mercy,” he smirks, watching you struggle. “Let’s see just how talented you are at holding that crop in your mouth. You may not even come without my permission, do you hear me?” His laugh is almost menacing as he smears a hand heavily down your body.
The first touch of his thumb against your clit sends a shiver through you. He begins with slow circles causing you to whimper and your nipples to tighten, pulling against the tender skin he cropped. Then he slowly slides two long fingers inside you.
“Christ, you are drenched,” he stutters, “you love this, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” you mumble, clenching your teeth around the crop, his words only heightening your pleasure.
He rocks his fingers in and out of your body as his thumb flicks against your clit. The flutters in your belly grow more insistent, making your legs tremble.
“Remember that you need my permission to come,” his tone dripping with arrogance as he quickens his strokes, pressing insistently on that spot deep inside, hurtling you so fast towards your peak.
You circle your hips chasing the high, mindlessly grinding against his fingers, soaking his hand with your juices. You desperately want to let your mouth go slack and just moan.
“May I come?” you ask, words difficult to form around the crop he has you holding in your mouth. The last word is a sharp gasp as your insides begin to quiver and pull on his fingers.
“May I come, Sir,” Benedict corrects, his voice sounding clenched as he keeps up the pace of his ministrations.
You shudder, unable to stop the spasms as they begin deep inside. You try fighting your body for more time, but he keeps up the onslaught.
“May I … come … Sir? Please?” Your request is desperate and muffled around his crop, knowing the inevitable is going to happen.
“You may,” he permits.
You allow yourself to crash with a loud moan, not bothering to fight it anymore. Your entire body jerks spasmodically, your cunt gripping his fingers, drenching his hand, even more, the sensation rippling through you with so much force you tug on your bonds.
“Well done,” Benedict murmurs as you go limp, sagging against the column at your back. He removes the crop from your mouth and tosses it aside. “Such a good girl, coming so pretty over my hand and holding my crop so well.”
You bask in the praise a little until, with a wicked smirk, he starts teasing you again. His thumb brushing over your clit, his fingers dragging against that spot. You pant hard, overstimulated, him drawing the filthiest squelching noises from your cunt with his movements.
“Do you want my cock inside you?” he asks, increasing the speed and friction of his strokes again.
“Yes, sir,” you rasp with ragged breath. That feeling coiling deep inside again, tighter and tighter, so soon after you just came.
“Beg me,” he commands. “Say, ‘I want you to fuck me like the wanton slut I am, Sir.’”
“I want you to fuck me like the wanton slut I am, Sir.” Your face burns hot as you parrot the words, tumbling from your lips in a breathy moan, writhing against your bindings.
“Oh yes, that’s it,” his voice low, “that’s exactly what you are - my wanton little slut, writhing and dripping on my fingers, begging for my cock. I suppose you took your punishment well enough; you’ve earned it.”
Without warning, he withdraws his hand and grasps your hips, pushing you off your feet and impaling you onto his cock in one fluid motion. You scream at the invasion; he feels like hot steel stretching your body open.
“How is that, my girl?” He preens, pressed into your hilt, nudging your cervix.
“So fucking good, Sir,” you reply through gritted teeth as he pulls out slightly.
“Thank me for it then, this cock,” he growls and surges back into you, lifting you off your feet again.
“Thank you, Sir, thank you for your cock,” you babble, your bound hands attempting to grasp the bedpost to give you some leverage to fuck yourself back onto him.
“What are you?” He interrogates, giving you such a strong thrust that the bedpost creeks.
“Your wanton little slut, Sir,” you answer, no longer ashamed, as he pulls out again so achingly slow, feeling your cunt flood more at what he’s making you say.
“That’s right. Well done,” Benedict praises, then he begins to move, wrapping his arms tight around you and grasping the wooden column with both hands, burying his face against your neck, kissing the skin there.
You tilt your head back against the column, staring blankly at the ceiling, melting into his thrusts. With your arms tied, you remain entirely at his mercy, precisely where you want to be. Each time he fucks into you, he obliterates thoughts of anything else - your world narrows to the stretch of his cock against your walls, his chest rubbing against your abused breasts and the wooden post digging into your shoulder blades and bound wrists.
His hands slip down to your behind as he keeps up a punishing rhythm.
“Do you think you have learned your lesson, my girl?” his voice broken by pants of exertion.
“Yes, Sir,” you confirm.
“Are you sure? I think you may need just a little more discipline to remember it,” he cautions, and the hand on your bum spanks against your right cheek as he surges into you.
You cry out at the sensation, the sting melding into liquid hot desire.
“More Sir, please,” you pant.
He spanks your cheek again, much harder.
“Did I say you could speak?” But his tone is not as harsh as before, “I’ll allow it, as you are asking for more punishment, my perfect little wanton wife.”
He spanks a few more times with every thrust, and you thank him after each one, spiralling higher.
”Fuck, you are perfect,” he growls, “wrap your legs around me,” he orders, moaning when you comply, the new angle affording him total power over your body.
His pelvis strikes against your clit with every stroke at this new angle. You feel the spasms beginning deep within, mounting and building by the second. A whimper escapes you, and you move your face to catch Benedict’s gaze, knowing you cannot speak, silently pleading with widened eyes to allow the climax bearing down upon you, seeking his permission to come again.
He nuzzles against your cheek and whispers silkily into your skin, “Yes, you may come again.” pressing his thumb against where he just spanked you, the skin raw and tender.
The mingled pleasure and pain send you over the edge, your cunt pulsating around him so hard that your entire body jolts from the force of it. Your vision goes hazy, waves of bliss fanning out from your core to your limbs, feeling your pulse thrumming in your bound wrists, in your feet hooked around his body.
“Oh god, yes,” he stutters as he keeps pounding into your fluttering cunt, his teeth finding your earlobe and biting down. Low groans escape him as his strokes become less precise, but his grip on you tighter, all his fingers digging into your flesh, leaving fingerprints. With one forceful thrust, he fills you to the hilt, clenching his teeth and climaxing ferociously, his seed filling you in hot, strong gushes.
After a few moments of his harsh panting, you hum in gentle satisfaction as he kisses you and slowly withdraws from your body, lowering your feet to the floor and reaching to untie you from the post.
His touch becomes caring as he picks you up and lays you on the bed, giving your lips a soft kiss before disappearing to your vanity sink. He returns with a warm damp cloth and a small bottle of ointment.
“Well done, my darling,” he praises, back to the loving devoted husband you have spent the last few weeks of your life with, using the cloth to clean away his seed from between your legs. “Did you enjoy that? You may speak freely again now; our play is over.”
“Yes, very much,” you assure, and you relax back as he tends to your body, turning you onto your side to gently apply salve to the blooming marks on your buttocks, then onto your back to tend to the marks on your breasts. He cannot resist kissing your nipples as he massages in the salve, and you gasp and push up against his tongue, chasing the feeling.
“Hmm, you could come again, couldn’t you?” his chuckle velvety, nuzzling his nose against your nipple as his hands trace swirling patterns down your sides.
You bite your lip and nod, holding his face tenderly, then running your hands into his hair, enjoying the fact you are free to use them again as you please.
He smiles the crooked smile that always makes your stomach flip and sinks down your body, running his tongue over your ribcage and down over your belly. “Well, I can't resist that,” he huffs against your skin, heaving your legs over his shoulders and pushing his face between your legs. “Hold my head, darling, show me what you want,” he encourages lowly as his tongue curls around your clit.
He has you screaming yet again within minutes.
Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @kkpolakow @colettebronte @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore
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ACOSF- Feysand’s pov
Part 1: The intervention
A/n: this is my first time writing anything like this, so feedback in the form of asks/comments/dms is much appreciated. I wrote this because I was annoyed with acosf and how sjm wrote the pregnancy plot. So it’s a bit of a fix-it fic. With my interpretation of the events and the characters.
There will be three parts and they’ll be up soon and you can find them on my profile or contact me and I’ll tag you.
And I hope you like it!
Feyre
“You should stop fidgeting.”
I turned to Rhys, sitting at the coffee table across from me where he was signing off papers. I dropped my hands to my sides. He looked up at me and sighed.
“Do I look that bad?” I’d seen my reflection in the window, I looked drawn, pale, tired.
The corner of his mouth curled up, “Never Feyre, darling. You shine with the beauty of a thousand stars.” He chucked at the look I gave him.
“Come here.”
I walked over to him, trying to ignore the shaking in my legs. Rhys pulled me onto his lap, pressing a kiss to my temple and wrapping his arms around my waist, fingers lightly grazing my abdomen, at what grew there.
Our child.
Our son.
You couldn’t see anything yet, but I had taken to wearing Rhys’ old sweaters around the house, something I knew filled him with that male pride. The longer we could keep it a secret the better.
As if sensing were my thoughts had travelled he whispered in my ear. “You will be a great mother.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and he pulled me closer. “And you will be a great father.” He tensed under me. “You will Rhys.”
He pulled back and his violet eyes stared at me. “It’s just- hard. I had a… difficult relationship with my father,” I nod. “And it screwed me up, what if… I can’t prevent screwing up our son?”
He was struggling with this, I knew he would, those insecurities that ate away at who he was, at the father he would be. They plagued me as well, I barely knew my mother, being raised on an army of nurses, believing maybe I wouldn’t be enough to raise my child.
“You are nothing like your father, you are brave, selfless, kind, I know you Rhys.” he broke eye contact and stared at the floor.
“Rhys-.”
A knock sounded on the office door, both of us freezing.
“Open this door you two, I know you’re in there.” Amren’s snappy voice filled the room.
I stood up, and Rhys put the shield back around me, to muffle my scent. If word got out the high lady was pregnant, it would cause chaos. People would celebrate at the news of a new heir, and hope and life being brought to a world still healing. But it would also attract unwanted attention, people who would wish to harm me or the baby.
He had been so careful, so careful, in broaching the topic of the shield. As if he would startle me and I would snap at him, hormones making my temper short these days. But even I had seen the advantage that keeping it a secret would bring, being able to first make sure I would be able to carry the baby full-term- I had learnt miscarriages were frequent among the fae, as well as giving Rhys time to adjust to having a pregnant mate.
He’d almost jumped Cassian when I’d been talking to him the other day, growling at him and standing unnecessarily close to me. Cassian just laughed and flew away, and Rhys fucked me on the kitchen table. I wasn’t complaining about our high sex drives, my mate could go for hours. It was also nice to have something that was ours, even if it wouldn’t last long.
I opened the door and Amren brushed past me.
“I still don’t know why I have to be here for this.”
“Because it’s a very important issue, Amren, and your high lord requested your presence.” Rhys raised an eyebrow at his second. Amren huffed and sat down on one of the couches as Rhys magicked the papers away.
She grabbed on of the cups on the coffee table and poured tea into it.
“So. You’re kicking her out of her house, making her do something she very likely doesn’t want to, with a male she wants nothing to do with, you should have a plan B. For the worse case scenario.” She started eating a biscuit.
I looked over at Rhys.
Should we have a plan B?
Do you think we need one?
I. Do I think we need one. My sister. My sister who had spent all that money last night.
I’d been eating breakfast with Rhys, Cassian and Azriel when the bill was brought in by one of the young assistants. Who had scurried off quickly.
Rhys had taken one look at it, at the header, and read.
“Nesta Archeron…paid… billed to the High Lord and Lady…” followed by a long list of alcohol, food, gambling debts.
I sat there, crying silent tears, at what Nesta had done, at what I had let her get away with doing.
Rhys and I had argued in the past, what to do, whether to let her try and heal, or to intervene. But I knew then that there would be no hope of Nesta getting over this herself.
“I’m so sorry Rhys.”
“It’s not your fault sweetheart.”
“What do we do?”
He’d squeezed my hand, and spoke to the four of us, giving us his plan, his way to prevent her from doing any more damage to herself. I knew he’d had this formulating since solstice, since she’d shown up and insulted me, Elain and Cassian.
Elain had walked in halfway, face solemn as my mate filled her in. As much as she loved Nesta, she knew it had to stop.
He’d then summoned Amren from her apartment.
“What if she doesn’t want to cooperate?” Azriel had asked once Amren was caught up.
“A few days in a dungeon in the Hewn City would make her more inclin-” Amren began.
“No.” They all turned to me. “The human lands, it’ll be more of a prison for her, without us actually having to lock her up.” I knew from their grim faces they knew what I was alluding to. To that house in the south, crumbling away, and the high lord within it.
I’d insisted that the order come through Amren. Trying to preserve any semblance of peace between my sister and mate. I knew quarrelling families didn’t end well.
Rhys had agreed, knelt before me, wiped away my tears, and silently ordered the others out.
“I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t have to keep saying that.”
“I know, but I feel responsible, I insisted we give her time, that she wouldn’t want to be treated like something fragile.” I sighed. “And it’s all for nothing.”
He’d wrapped me in his arms then, kissing my temple.
“It’ll be ok. Worse case scenario, Cassian’s balls end up nailed to a wall.”
I smiled. It was small, barely there, but I know he saw it.
“It’ll be ok. I promise.”
So we sat here now. Waiting.
I put my head in my hands. How did it come to this? I thought we could move on after the war. I knew we would never be close, but we could’ve fallen into an easy companionship.
We all turned to the door. Footsteps.
There was a knock on the door.
“She’s here.” Cassian. And Nesta.
I braced myself, Rhys stood up and walked in front of the mantle hands in his pockets. He gave me an encouraging nod.
I walked over to the door and opened it.
“You’re five minutes early, I’m impressed.”
Rhysand
Nesta looked furious. Cassian looked irritated.
“A good omen for gambling. We should head to Rita’s.” Cassian drawled as Nesta stepped inside.
“I heard you had quite the night.” Feyre smiled at her, I knew she was trying to keep as civil as possible, not wishing to startle her sister.
“You look atrocious.” Amren was harsh, but not wrong. I could see it, she was pale, gaunt, a husk of who she used to be, and what that natural fae beauty could make her. “Though I bet it’s hard to look good, when you’re out until the darkest hours of the night, drinking yourself stupid and fucking anything that comes your way.”
Feyre’s head turned and she glared at Amren.
“I want aware that my activities were under your jurisdiction.” Nesta said smoothly
Cassian murmured what could’ve been a warning.
“They are when you spend that much of our gold.”
Nesta turned to my mate, who winced. “Did you really make me come all the way for a scolding?”
Feyre’s eyes, a mirror of Nesta’s, softened, even after all of it, she still was nice to Nesta. I couldn’t say she really deserved it.
“No, it’s not a scolding.” Feyre glanced at me sharply, I hadn’t said a word yet, before looking at Amren. “Think of this as a discussion.”
Nesta stood up. “My life is not your concern, or up for any sort of discussion.”
“Sit down.” I snarled. I was not going to let her disrespect Feyre, there goes civility. The raw command in my voice, the power. It was the voice of the high lord. A voice that made faeries bow, and rethink their actions.
I saw Cassian lean forward in my peripheral vision, as if he would leap between us. The fool.
Nesta held my gaze. “You are going to stay. You are going to listen.” Or I will make you.
She let out a low laugh. “You’re not my high lord. You don’t give me orders.”
Yet I could scent her fear. I smiled cruelly. “You want to go head-to-head, Nesta Archeron?” My voice was a lethal purr. I gestured to the lawn outside the windows. “We’ve got plenty of space out there for a brawl.” She would loose. She had no strength beyond her powers, which she couldn’t even use. And she knew that. My smile grew.
“That’s enough. I told you to keep out of it.” Feyre snapped at me. I broke eye contact with Nesta and looked at her. I didn’t regret my words, but I regretted having to resort to them. Feyre angled her head. “You can either leave, or you can keep your mouth shut.” I crossed my arms. No way in hell was I leaving Feyre with her, not now. I would pay for that comment later.
“You too.” Feyre spat at Amren. Amren nestled into her chair, clearly not happy.
Nesta was angered now, less likely to listen. Feyre sat down on the couch, she swallowed.
“We need to make some changes, Nesta,” her voice was hoarse. “You do- and we do. I’ll take the blame for allowing things to get this far, and this bad. After the war with Hybern, with everything else that was going on, it… you… I should have been there to help you, but I wasn’t, and I am ready to admit that this is partially my fault.” Nesta never deserved Feyre as a sister.
“That what is your fault?” Nesta hissed.
“You, this bullshit behaviour.” Nesta glared at Cassian. He held up his hands and went on “Look, it’s not some moral failing, but-”
“I understand how you’re feeling.” Feyre cut in.
“You know nothing about how I’m feeling.”
Feyre ignored her. “It’s time for some changes. Starting now.”
“Keep your self righteous do gooder nonsense out of my life.”
“You don’t have a life,” Fere was loosing her patience. “And I’m not going to sit by for another moment and watch you destroy yourself. I decided after the war to give you time, but it was wrong. I was wrong.”
“Oh?” The word was loaded, dangerous, and I tensed. Those fae urges screaming at me to protect, to stop Nesta before she hurt Feyre.
“You’re done, this behaviour, that apartment, all of it- you are done Nesta.”
“And where, am I supposed to go?”
Feyre looked at Cassian. For once he was not smiling.
“You’re coming with me.”
Feyre
I knew it wouldn’t be easy. I knew she would fight me. I knew she didn’t want my help. But she’d waisted away. And I would not let her do that anymore.
Nor would I let to continue to spend our money and disrespect us.
“What?” Nesta was furious. Dangerous.
“As of this meeting, you’re moving into the house of wind.” I nodded to in the direction of the large palace at the east end of the city. “Rhys and I have decided that each morning, you will train with Cassian in Windhaven, in the Illyrian Mountains. After lunch, for the rest of the afternoon, you will be assigned work in the library beneath the house of wind. But the apartment, the seedy taverns- all of that is over, Nesta.” I braced myself for the refusal, the outburst.
I saw Cassian poised to jump between us, his siphons flared and I felt Rhys’ power, as if they knew I wouldn’t hit back at my sister, should she attack me. Rhys might very well kill her if she does. And I doubt Cassian would try to stop him.
“I’m not moving to the house of wind. And I’m not training at that miserable village. Certainly not with him.” Nesta threw Cassian a venomous look.
“It’s not up for negotiation.” I refrained from snapping at Amren to keep quiet.
“Like hell it isn’t.” At least she didn’t get up, even though it was probably because of the cold warning in my mate’s eyes.
“Your apartment is being packed as we speak, by the time you return, it will be empty. Your clothes are already being sent to the House, though I doubt they will be suitable for training at Windhaven.” Amren flickered her eyes over Nesta’s baggy grey dress. But that was worry in Amren’s eyes.
“You can’t do this, I’m not a member of this court.”
“You seem to have no qualms about spending this courts money. During the war with Hybern, you accepted the position as our human emissary. You never resigned from that role, so formal law still considers you an offical member of this court.” Amren waved her fingers and a book floated towards Nesta before it thumped next to her. That was about as much magic Amren could manage now. “Page two hundred and thirty six, if you want to check.” I knew she was making it up.
Nesta eyed the book.
“So here are your options, girl.” Amren went on. I glanced at Rhys, and I knew my expression was one of agony, his of half restrained rage at seeing me like this.
“One, you can move up to the house of wind, train with Cassian in the mornings, and work in the library in the afternoons. You will not be a prisoner. But there will be no one to fly or winnow you down to the city. If you want to venture into the city proper, by all means, go ahead. That is, if you can brave the ten thousand steps down from the House.” Amren’s eyes glittered, as if daring Nesta to try. “And if you can somehow find two coppers to rub together to buy yourself a drink. But if you follow this plan, we will reevaluate where and how you live in a few months.”
“And my other option?” Nesta spat. She had guts, I’d give her that, to defy both Amren and Rhys.
“You go back to the human lands.”
Nesta turned to me, snearing. “And these are my only options?”
“I-” I caught myself before I could say those words I’m sorry. It was as Amren had told me this morning. She didn’t deserve my pity. I squared my shoulders, becoming the High Lady, even in Rhys’ old sweater. “Yes.”
“You have no right.”
“I-”
Nesta exploded. “You dragged me into this mess, this horrible place. You are why I am like this, why I am stuck here-”
I flinched. Rhys’ rage grew.
“That’s enough.” I breathed. Nesta blinked. I swallowed. Only you decide what breaks you. And I’d be damned if it was my sister. “That is enough. You’re moving up to the house, you’re going to train and work, and I don’t care what vitriol you spew my way. You’re doing it.”
“Elain needs to be able to see me.” There she is again, using Elain as a shield. As if Elain would object to this.
“Elain agreed to this hours ago. She’s currently packing your things. They’ll be waiting for you when you arrive.”
Nesta recoiled.
Still I didn’t let up. “Elain knows how to contact you. If she wishes to visit you at the house of wind, she is free to do so. One of us will gladly take her up there.” I didn’t tell her Elain had specifically not come today so she wouldn’t have to deal with our sister.
The words were so awkward Cassian said, “I promise not to bite.” I recalled his first words to me, we won’t bite unless you ask us too.
Nesta sneared at him. “I suppose this was your idea-”
“It was.” I was grateful for the lie he told as he grinned. “We’re going to have a wonderful time together.”
If they didn’t kill each other first.
“I want to speak to my sister. Alone.” Nesta ordered.
I saw Cassian glance at Rhys, who levelled an assessing look at Nesta. He nodded. “We’ll be in the hall.” I knew he didn’t trust Nesta enough to go much further.
I wasn’t pleased at the subtle jab. It wouldn’t help to convince Nesta to understand we were doing this to help her. And I would be sure to let him know that.
The three filed out of the door and closed it behind them.
“You didn’t care before, why do you care now?”
I fidgeted with my wedding ring. “I told you: it wasn’t that I didn’t care. We- everyone I mean- had multiple conversations about this. About you. We- I decided that giving you time and space would be best.” I was wrong.
“And what does Elain have to say about it?”
Again, bringing up Elain in a conversation that had nothing to do with her. “This isn’t about Elain. And last I checked, you barely saw her either.”
She looked like she was thinking.
“For what it’s worth, I was hoping you’d turn yourself around. I wanted to give you space to do it, since you seem to lash out at everyone who comes close enough, but you didn’t even try.” I continued. “All you have done is help yourself to our money.”
“Your mate’s money.”
I knew there was hurt on my face, and she looked almost proud. As if I hadn’t done anything for this court, sacrificed so much, given so much.
“Thank you so much for taking time out of your homemaking and shopping to remember me.”
How dare she. “I built a room in this house for you. I asked you to help me decorate it. You told me to piss off.” Which was clearly far more than she deserved.
“Why would I ever want to stay in this house?” Nesta spat.
“Because you’re my sister.” As much as she may wish she wasn’t.
“Yes, and you’re always sacrificing for us, your sad little human family-”
“You spent five hundred gold marks last night!” I exploded, jumping to my feet. “Do you know how much money that is?” So much more than all the money we’d had all those years in the cabin. She would spend it all then. So why wouldn’t she spend it all now? “Do you know how embarrassed I was when we got the bill this morning and my friends- my family- had to hear all about it? And to hear not just the amount of the bill, but what you spent it on-” ridiculous bullshit.
“Oh, so it’s about you saving face-”
“It is about how it reflects upon me, upon Rhys and upon my court when my damned sister spends our money on wine and gambling and does nothing to contribute to this city! If my own sister cannot be controlled, then why should we have the right to rule over anyone else?” I had to work so hard. So hard to receive the same respect as Rhys. He tried. I know he really did. But even he couldn’t undo thousands of years of history and the lack of a High Lady before me.
“I am not a thing to be controlled by you,” Nesta said icily.
“That’s why you’re going to train at Windhaven. You will learn to control yourself.”
“I won’t go.”
Mother help me. “You’re going, even if you have to be tied up and hauled there. You will follow Cassian’s lessons, and you will do whatever work Clotho requires in the library. You will respect her, and the other priestesses in the library, you will never give them a moment’s trouble.” Cauldron knew they didn’t need it. “Any free time is yours to spend as you wish. In the house.”
“You had no right to close up my apartment, to take my things-”
“What things? A few clothes and some rotten food?” I stopped my pacing. “I’m having the entire building condemned.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“It’s done. Rhys already visited the landlord. It will be torn down and rebuilt as a shelter for families still displaced in the war.” We had a few temporary buildings still erected, but a more permanent one would make a massive difference as reconstruction works still went ahead.
“I never want to speak to you again.”
“That’s fine. You can talk to Cassian and the priestesses instead.” I did not envy them one bit.
“I won’t be your prisoner-”
“No. You can go wherever you wish. As Amren said, you are free to leave the house. I’d you can manage those ten thousand steps.” A small punishment. Life up there wouldn’t be so bad. Cassian was good company, and the library a fascinating place. “But I’m done paying for you to destroy yourself.”
Nesta remained silent.
“The others are waiting. Elain should be done by now.” I’d go see her after this. After I spoke with Rhys. I’d asked her to be here, but she’d decided it would be best if she wasn’t.
“I want to talk with her.”
“She’ll come visit when she’s ready.” Nesta held my stare. “You think I don’t know why you’ve pushed even Elain away?”
Nesta remained silent as I left.
Rhysand
I sat in my office. Behind my desk with Cassian in the chair in front of me.
I carefully stirred my cup of tea, the rage from earlier still lying just under my skin. I should see if Az would be up to sparring once everything was sorted out.
I set down my spoon with terrible gentleness, trying not to break it. I sipped my tea and observed my brother. “You’re ready?”
Cassian leaned back in his seat. “I’ve gotten young warriors in line before.”
“Nesta’s not some young buck pushing the boundaries.” To forget that would be a critical mistake. She had rage. Rage and a power that could destroy her if she didn’t handle it. I knew what she was doing, sleeping her way through those bars. It was a pretty shitty coping mechanism, fucking, but it was effective at pushing away the power that threatened to consume you. I would offer her help, but the female couldn’t stand me. And after the way she treated Feyre this morning, I was inclined to feel the same.
“I can handle her.” I hoped he could.
I stared at my tea, this next conversation wouldn’t be easy. And from the apprehension on Cassian’s face, I could tell he was expecting something.
“You did good work getting the Illyrians back in order this spring, you know.” They’d been pissed off after the war. Considering they were a warrior society, who bred their children for nothing but battle, and had done so for thousands of years.
“I think it’s time for you to take on bigger responsibilities.” Even after 500 years I still continued to push my friends. Get them to move on to bigger things, live up to their potential. And I likely would until the day I died, and they all knew it.
Cassian grimaced.
I chuckled. “You can’t honestly mean to tell me you didn’t know the Illyrian situation was a test?”
Cassian tucked in his wings. “I’d hoped not.”
I smirked and quickly sobered. “Nesta is not a test, though. She’s… different.”
“I know.” Cassian’s eyes gained that far away look that told me he was deep in thought. “We haven’t seen a hint of her power since the war. For all we know, it vanished with the cauldron’s breaking.”
I doubted that. Magic didn’t go away. “Or maybe it’s dormant, as the Cauldron is now asleep and safely hidden in Cretea with Drakon and Miryam. Her power could rise at any moment.”
Cassian looked unsettled at that.
“Be on your guard.”
“You sound like you’re afraid of her.”
“I am.” Mother only knew what could happen if her power was unleashed on the world. Part of why I needed Cassian to train her. To make sure she wasn’t still in that dark place should it resurface. Or we’d all be in serious danger.
Cassian blinked at me.
I raised a brow. “Why do you think I sent you to get her this morning?”
Cassian shook his head, laughing. I smiled, lacing my fingers behind my head and leaning back.
“You need to get out in the practice ring more, brother.” He wasn’t wrong. I’d gained a fair amount of my muscle back after losing some of it when I was under the mountain, but still could improve. Plus it would probably please Feyre, which didn’t hurt. “Don’t want that mate of yours to find any soft bits.”
“She never finds any soft bits when I’m around her.” She was beautiful, gorgeous, every part of her fitted perfectly to every part of me. And she was insatiable. Even more so now. Her pregnancy made her sex drive higher. Which in turn made mine higher.
Cassian laughed. “Is Feyre going to kick your ass for what you said earlier?”
Yes, and I probably deserved it. “I already told the servants to clear out for the rest of the day as soon as you take Nesta up to the house.”
“I think the servants hear you fighting plenty.” He had a point. She never hesitated to let me know when I’d stepped out of line, and I adored her for it.
I threw my brother a wicked smile. “It’s not the fighting I don’t want them hearing.”
Cassian grinned right back.
The clock chimed ten thirty and Cassian rose. “Enjoy your not-fighting.”
“Cassian.” He turned to face me. “You didn’t ask what bigger responsibilities I have in mind for you.”
“I assumed Nesta was big enough.”
“You could be more.”
“I’m your general. Isn’t that enough?”
“Is it enough for you?”
He hesitated.
“Oh you’re certainly hesitating.” Cassian looked up at me, and I knew he was checking his shields were intact. I grinned at him. “You reveal everything in that face of yours brother.” My amusement faded. “Az and I have good reason to believe the human queens are scheming again. I need you to look into it. Deal with it.”
“What, we’re doing some role reversal? Az gets to lead the Illyrians now?”
We both knew Az would rather kill the Illyrians than help them. We still had to talk him into believing they were worthy of living. Until they did something that went directly against me, we technically couldn’t punish them.
“Don’t play stupid.” He was deflecting.
Cassian rolled his eyes.
“Azriel is juggling more than he’ll admit right now. I’m not dumping another responsibility on him. This task of yours will help him. And let us all see what your really made of.” Az would never admit it, but he was struggling, between the Autumn court, the human lands, and the uncooperative faerie rulers on the continent, he had a lot on his plate. But he would never accept help from us, he’d been like this since we were kids.
“You want me to play spy?”
“There are other ways to glean information, Cass, besides peeking through keyholes. Az isn’t a courtier. He works from the shadows.” And was perfectly content doing so. “But I need someone- I need you- standing in the open. Mor can fill you in on the details. She’ll be back from Vallahan at some point today.” I was looking forward to catching up with my cousin. She’d been in the continent dealing with the remaining diplomatic issues of the new treaty.
“I’m no courtier, either. You know that.”
“Scared?” I smirked
“So I’m to deal with these queens as well as train Nesta?”
My silence was answer enough. He knew I wouldn’t ask him to do it if he wasn’t capable.
“We’re in for a long few months, then.”
Cassian was almost to the door when I replied, “You certainly are.”
I did not envy him one bit for what he was about to have to do. I’d had to convince Feyre to let me train her, but she’d been no where near this far gone. I was sorry we’d had to resort to kicking her out of her house. I was madder at her for how her actions the night before had affected Feyre, rather than the amount of money she’d spent. It’d been an enormous sum, but nothing in the grand scheme of money my ancestors had accumulated over the years.
I hoped Cassian could pull her out of that dark place she was in.
Mates usually were able to.
He’d never said it. But I knew he suspected they were. He wouldn’t’ve been so willing to do this otherwise. And he looked at her the same way I knew I looked at Feyre.
Feyre.
She was going to lay it on me when we were alone.
I smiled to myself and set off to find my mate.
Feyre
As I watched Mor winnow Cassian and Nesta away I was hit with a wave of sorrow.
She was my sister. We shared blood, and our lives. How did the three of us all end up so different?
“She’ll come around.” Rhys was standing at the top of the staircase, a faint smile on his face.
“What makes you so sure?”
“You.”
I walked up to him. Stood on the step below him and crossed my arms.
“I told you to keep out of it.”
“Sorry.” The flint in his eyes told me he wasn’t in the least bit sorry.
“You made her angry, made her build up those walls. I needed you to stay quiet and support me from the side. No offence, but she’s always distrusted you, and you telling her you wanted to fight her, did not help at all.”
He placed his hands on my biceps as I frowned at him.
“She was insulting you. Hurting you, I could see it in your eyes.” He tilted my chin up. Gods he was tall. “I’m not sorry for defending you.”
“I don’t need you to defend me, Rhysand.”
He tsked. “I know that, darling, but you would’ve done the same for me.”
He had a point. I would’ve, I had.
He pulled me into his chest and I . “It’s out of our hands now. It’s up to Nesta whether she wants to fight it. And whether Cassian can train her without Nesta cutting his head off.”
I smiled and walked up the step so I was level with him. Somewhat.
“I love you.” I wrapped my arms around his neck.
He grinned, hands on my waist. “I love you, too.” He kissed me, and we spent the next few hours reminding each other of that.
OH MY GOD I DID IT.
IF YOURE STILL READING, THANK YOU!!!!
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If you’re taking request : El mayo fluff, meeting at Dina’s wedding? Or being pregnant during the whole war? Loooved Safehouse!!
Como La Flor
Ismael 'El Mayo' Zambada x female!reader (mention of wearing heels, being called a lady), 2909 words
mention of alcohol, you like red wine in this one, the usual for the show
a/n : why is Alberto Guerra such a babe. Is this named after the episode? yes. Am I the biggest Selena fan ever? yes.
As always it's the fictional, not the real deal, enjoy xx
You are not sure how you ended up at Dina Arellano’s wedding out of all people. You did keep up with her over the years, a coffee here and there, dinner nights at your place when she was in town, being invited for a drink or two at Roxanne’s every time you were back in Tijuana. Before you moved away, you had appreciated the friendship she gave you, and you enjoyed giving yours just as much, but as the months went on and as you started to notice the guns tucked in everyone’s waistbands and the unusually large funds on her credit card, you just decided to take a step back, but so did your trips up north.
That is why receiving the wedding invitation at your door had been a surprise in the beginning, you haven’t been to Tijuana in months. It was a pleasant one, but one you felt might have been out of nostalgia and for old friendship’s sake.
Coming back to Tijuana had been a hard choice at first, feeling like a defeat, having to tell everyone it just didn’t work out down south. And after many sorry looks and probing questions you didn’t feel like answering, Dina’s way of seeing it had been a breath of fresh air. Maybe you are just coming back to rest a bit, hmm? When you feel like moving again you can still do it. Nothing is stopping you. That day, with your hands around a warm coffee cup, sobbing in her kitchen, you remembered why you two fit so well together. Now you have no reason not to show up to my wedding, she laughs, it makes you too.
You were grateful every time she forced you to come along with her on all the wedding shopping, even if you felt your presence was unnecessary, outdated. It didn’t matter to her, she told you many times, that you needed to be out and about, live a little, enjoy the company. She was right, and as the day grew close and you got to know Carlos better, you realized you didn’t feel as out of place as you thought you were at first. The thirteenth sibling everyone had missed so much.
The food was generous and the many glasses of wine you already had even more, which is probably why you couldn’t say no to her every time she grabbed your hand and pulled you to the dance floor. The chandeliers shining sparkles of lights all around you.
Everything was starting to feel a bit overwhelming. The noise, the music, being pushed around, front and back, having to say hi to everyone after so many years. Why didn’t it work out? Was Tijuana not enough for you? How are your parents? It ended up being too much for you when Dina’s mom cornered you, holding your hands softly between hers, voice trembling, telling you how much she had missed you, how everyone did.
You don’t remember when you had taken your shoes off on the way out, almost running to the door, your body begging for a cigarette and some fresh air. Still, you try not to drop the red soles, making the edges balance between your fingers and your glass of wine as you rummage through the inside pocket of your jacket for a smoke. They were a gift from Dina, one way too expensive for your own wallet, one she didn’t want you to refuse. A thank you gift, she had said, for being here for me tonight. The evening is colder than usual this time of year, but the breeze on your cheeks is a nice change compared to the hot air inside. Your fingers reach the bottom of your pockets. Where the fuck did I -
‘’ Are you going to beg me for one too? ‘’
It is a man leaning on the side of the building that spoke, a small smile tugging on his lips, cowboy hat raising with the movement of his eyebrows. You barely noticed he was there in the first place.
‘’ Pardon me? ‘’
‘’ A cigarette, I mean. ‘’
‘’ Ah. ‘’, a small laugh escapes you. You vaguely wave your free hand around your pockets, red wine dancing dangerously close to the rim as you do. ‘’ Those I have, they’re just in there somewhere. ‘’
His hand goes up, pointing to your glass with his cigar, smoke rushing down his face as he exhales,
‘’ You want me to hold that for you? ‘’
‘’ That would be lovely. ‘’
His eyes follow your movement as your fingers loosen and you let your shoes drop at your feet, presenting him your glass of wine. His gaze connects to your naked feet against the concrete, you can tell he doesn’t approve.
‘’ So, ‘’ you fish around in your jacket again, ‘’ Bride or groom? ‘’
Something like a grunt comes out of him, deep in the throat, a laugh maybe. He brings his cigar to his lips.
‘’ More on the bride’s brother’s side, you? ‘’
‘’ Just the bride, Dina’s an old friend. ‘’
He takes a deep drag, his chest puffing with the inhale. ‘’ I’ve been told you are more like a family member at this point. ‘’
You know word comes around fast in Tijuana, even more so at a Tijuanense wedding. Still, his words scratch a part of your brain that screams at you, showing you once again everything you know, everything you have been noticing for years now, but prefer to ignore.
‘’ I haven’t lived in Tijuana in years. I’m not invited for Christmas anymore if you’re wondering. ‘’
He doesn't answer back. Thank god. The silence stretches out for a while and your hands are reaching once again into your pockets. You can still hear the music inside, a loud, quick norteña you would barely be able to keep up with. You still can’t find your pack of cigarettes.
‘’ Does the offer still stand?"
His eyes slowly go back to yours, brown, gentle, tired. His head tilts to the side in a silent question. He is a man of few words. You can already tell.
‘’ A cigarette, I mean," you say. "I do have a lighter. I can’t find the pack, though."
A smile pulls at his lips this time, and you can feel the tension that was gnawing at you fade away a little. The skin of his hand meets the inside of his denim jacket. It’s something close to genuine, his smile, like he does find your answer humorous. His palm is warm when he presses the cold metal case in your hand. He points a finger your way again.
‘’ Let's make it two, and you don't use my lighter," he says.
You bring the case close to your chest, a small smile on your face. A peace offering maybe. You feel like a child negotiating for dessert, "Make it three, I use my light, and you can keep my glass of wine. We have a deal?"
His eyes squint, eyebrows almost meeting in the middle, you know your lie won’t work. You are surprised when he chuckles, half a smile, brushing his teeth with his tongue as he tuts.
‘’ Thought it was an open bar tonight."
‘’ No, it’s not. Not after eleven."
‘’ And what time is it now?"
You clear your throat as you pull the three cigarettes out of the case, quickly squeezing one between your lips.
‘’ Way past eleven. It’s too late now, you have to take the deal. ‘’
‘’ What if I don’t like red wine? ‘’
You bring your hand up, shielding the flame from the wind. As you exhale the first drag, you take a step back, leaning on one of the pillars orning the balcony. The smoke is warm on your face, prickling your eyes on the way up.
‘’ You don’t seem to me like the type of person that likes wine, no matter the color. Am I wrong? ‘’
He doesn’t retort back this time, but the smile is still there as he turns his attention back to the garden. You take this time to really look at him, how dark his eyes are, how there is not a single wrinkle on his blouse. You breathe in the smoke while he swings the liquid around in the glass. He is handsome, there is no doubt about that, with his mustache and his tailored pants. Maybe tonight doesn’t have to be as boring as you first made it out to be. Your eyes are lingering on his face, you don’t bother hiding it. They trace their way up and around the wrinkles beside his eyes until it reaches the curve of his cheek, tumbling down to graze his lips.
‘’ I don’t think I asked you for your name. ‘’
It is a question without being one, a statement that he will have to answer anyway. You feel bold tonight, something that barely happens anymore, but even with all this build-up of confidence, spilling over the edges, going down your throat with the nicotine, you still feel small when he is now the one analyzing you. His brown eyes are back on you, and you love how the wind catches in his curls, pushing them under his hat. He crushes his cigar with the heel of his foot, sparkles of hot ashes following the movement.
‘’ You can call me Ismael. ‘’
Ismael. You like it. It suits him, a soft name for a soft exterior. You can tell this calmness is only a facade. An ocean a wind away from becoming a storm.
‘’ And what do others get to call you then? ‘’
The ones I can see looking through the window. Keeping watch. He snorts, taking a sip of your wine, his face souring at the taste the second it meets his lips.
‘’ You are right, I don’t like wine at all. ‘’
You know pushing your question once more will get you nowhere, so you don’t ask again. Maybe Ismael will be the only thing you’ll get tonight. You do offer him your name instead, and he says it back to you, the letters rolling softly off his tongue. You stay silent for a moment after that, a moment spent looking back into his eyes, ears still ringing from the music inside.
‘’ Let me guess, ‘’ you propose, motioning to the untouched wine in the cup, ‘’ and if I win, I get-, what did you say you do for a living? ‘’
You’re fishing again. You can tell that he knows, you can tell he doesn’t care.
‘’ I got my own business. ‘’
‘’ Right, ‘’ you stretch the word out, softly fishing your glass of wine out of his hand. He lets you, ‘’ If I can guess your drink of choice, you owe me one peso, we got a deal? ‘’
You can tell you have his attention now, it’s the way his eyebrows raise and how his lips form a small smile across his cheek. He leans gently towards you, as if his next words were only meant between you and him.
‘’ If you can guess in one try, I’ll make it two pesos, but you’ll owe me a dance, deal? ‘’
You scoff, taking a sip from your glass. You swoosh it in your mouth a little. Left, right, swallow. It’s bold, you have to admit, but you can tell he is as serious as you are. It does surprise you when he holds his hand out to you, expecting a handshake, a deal. Whatever business Ismael has back home, you know selling is probably his strong suit. You shake it, his fingers are warm in your hand, palms dry and calloused. You are a horrible dancer anyway, it’s his feet that are going to take the worst of it.
You use his hand as leverage to pull yourself off the pillar, choosing to sit on the bench next to it instead. You look up at him, eyes squinting.
‘’ You’re clearly from Sinaloa… And your hands are strong, so you probably work a field job. How am I doing so far? ‘’
‘’ Surprisingly good. ‘’ His hand brushes through his mustache, you know he’s smiling, ‘’ So far. ‘’
You hmm, elbows touching your knees as your chin follow the movement, pressing against your open hand. Your fingers drum on the side of your cheek. You could stare at him for hours.
‘’ I think I know, ‘’ you grin, ‘’ You are a classic beer kind of guy. ‘’
He doesn’t react, and for a second you do believe that you are wrong, but just as you are about to stand back and pull out your wallet, something in his eyes changes. It’s soft, barely there, but you didn’t miss it. Hook, line, and sinker. It’s your cue to keep going, you know you’re in.
‘’ None of those artisanal ones, nah. I think you’re a classic Pacífico guy. ‘’
‘’ What do you do for a living? ‘’
You let out a laugh,
‘’ I watch a bit too much of those police novelas on TV is what I do.’’
Ismael chuckles, his eyes moving down again to your feet. You gaze down too, noticing now how the pavement has gotten colder under your toes.
‘’ I owe you a dance, don’t I? ‘’
‘’ You don’t have to put your shoes back on if they hurt. ‘’
You stand up from the bench, holding out your hand towards him. Ismael slides his fingers between yours as he pulls you closer to him. You can feel your blood rushing down your body from the movement, your heart pushing against your ribcage. His arm raises above your head, slowly pushing you to swirl around. Your toes rub on the ground as you turn, you are not sure if it is his proximity or the alcohol that makes your head spin.
Before you can reach for your heels, he is already leaning down by your feet, bending his back until his other hand grabs the back of your shoes.. When he straightens back up, it feels like he’s a step closer, in his hands, the tip of your shoes is nudging your thigh. You can smell the tobacco on him, feel how heavy his gaze is on you, see the dots of green in his brown eyes.
‘’ Let me take you out to dinner tomorrow. ‘’
You can’t help your eyes from following the movement of his lips, the movement of his skin creasing where it meets his cheek. You look up, back into his eyes.
‘’ Really? ‘’
He mirrors the word back to you, raspy, confident. Really. You know your cheeks are red without a doubt, the heat you feel is enough. You nod, leaning back on your heel, in the hope that putting some distance between you and him would help you regain whatever confidence you left on the bench. His thumb is brushing against the back of your hand now, what a smooth mother-
‘’ Even if I step on your feet the whole dance? ‘’
Your words are quick, begging for a chance to stop melting over this, over him. He thinks for a second, looking up in a mocking way before his eyes are back on you again,
‘’ I’ll allow it. Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it after a few songs. I’m a great teacher. ‘’
You don’t doubt him for a second.
And you don’t miss how Dina eyes you when he brings you to the dancefloor, making you twirl once more, but tonight, as much as it pains you to think it, you can’t seem to care. You can deal with the speeches, rumors, and the big sister talk tomorrow, because tonight you feel better than you have felt in weeks. Maybe it’s the way Ismael does not even flinch when you do inevitably step on his toes or how his fingers bunch up the fabric at your waist to bring you even closer to him. Maybe it’s because you don’t want to think about the gun your fingertips brush every time your hand caresses lower down his back. Maybe because he feels so different from the one you had been meeting before.
Still, you are surprised when he calls you the next morning, asking you what time would be best for you tonight. After breakfast, when you lie to Dina and tell her you’re having dinner with an old school friend, you can’t help how wild the butterflies in your stomach are.
You don’t think much about it when you slip into his car at the next street corner, as he drives you around with the windows down, as he asks you about your day, pushing your chair out from under the table for you. You don’t even remember why you were feeling nervous when he orders his food after you, calling back the waiter before he could leave.
‘’ Can you bring a Pacífico with that? And a glass of wine, red, for the lady. ‘’
Ismael turns to you, lips pulling into a smile, his knees knocking against yours under the table. ‘’ Rojo, that’s right? ‘’
He’s still wearing that damn hat inside, the buckle on top catching the light. You smile back at him, nodding.
That’s right.
#ismael el mayo zambada x reader#ismael zambada x reader#narcos mexico imagine#narcos mexico fanfic#ismael el mayo zambada#narcos x reader
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Yep, Fallen Stars is getting a Spooktacle special set one year later - cut into multiple parts, as tumblr began to lag as I wrote more. Also, this will have spoilers from the main story, so please keep that in mind!
If you find a typo, no you didn't. These were made solely for fun and aren't to be taken all too seriously
Leaves and wrappers crunched under the feet of two wandering monsters. The air surrounding them smelled of warm baked treats, their path lightened by the orange glow of candles and streetlights. They were surrounded by other monsterlings, each wearing a costume from their favorite shows, stories, and games. Joyful laughter flew through everyone's ears as buckets were filled with candies of every kind.
"I think we've been through every street," a young clamble spoke. A pumpkin-shaped bucket was clasped in their claw, filled with many candies they had gotten over the hours. "Should we call it a night?"
"We could," the other, a T-rox, answered. "But.. There's one last house we haven't gotten to yet!"
"Oh? Where is it?"
"Follow me, Sprout!"
Sprout fell behind, surprised at the sudden energy their friend had gained to run off so quickly. He ran without direction out into the night - and it seemed like the forest was his choice. Are there houses within the trees?
"Rocky, wait!" The clamble said with a pant, slowing with every step. "My mom told me not to go off the road! Where - where's the house?"
"Right up here!"
Soft grass turned to stone as the two finally came to a stop. Up a short hill, surrounded by darkened trees and fog, stood the old Plant Island castle. They were standing on the bubblerite path, clusters of mushrooms and grass sprouting from between its cracks, that led right up to the entrance. It wouldn't be too far of a walk now.
"What? We can't go there! It's off limits because some monsters kept trying to explore it and got hurt!"
"I heard someone died," Rocky whispered, a bit of morbid laughter coming after.
"Why.. would you want to go there?"
The t-rox began his walk, forcing Sprout to follow behind.
"I was told the reason everyone wanted to go in was because, one day a year, you can speak to Plant Islands old kings! Don't tell me you aren't at least a little curious."
"Not one bit."
"Well, you can stay behind and be a little crybaby!"
Sprout stopped in their tracks, watching their friend walk on. It was too dark to be alone, and Rocky was the only one who brought a flashlight.
"I'm not a crybaby," the clamble scoffed. Their costume was a burger - not a baby.
The door of the castle had been worn down over the decades, hardly anything more than a stone and wood slab with two round handles. Sprout raised a claw, giving it a quick knock.
"No ones home. Guess we have to leave!"
The moment the clamble's words escaped into the air, the door opened with a whistling breeze.
The inside seemed to be in a different time. A long hallway with a red, velvety rug lining its path, lit candles hanging from lanterns on either side, shadows overcoming the entire scene. The wallpaper seemed torn, withering away from years of neglect. Old, yet new.
"Ladies first," Rocky teased.
"No. You first," Sprout replied.
The bickering was minimal, and they agreed to go in together. The temperature felt as if it dropped the second they stepped in - not a good sign. The floors creaked with every step, their breathing becoming visible fog the deeper they went into the castle. Sprout froze.
"Sprout? Sprout! Move it, come on!"
Rocky nudged their friends arm, following their eyes to what stood before them in the shadows. A foggy white cluster of icy winds and clouds loomed above them, forming an uncanny face that vaguely resembled any monster that came to mind with jolts of lightning flashing within its shape that rattled with thunder. Its face slowly tilted down, looking through the two with empty, soulless eyes.
"Leave," its voice echoed.
Sprout and Rocky slammed into one another, falling onto their backs and dropping their collected candy before scrambling to their feet. They darted back out the front door of the castle, screaming for their parents, anyone.
The floating figure disintegrated, bits of ice laying flat on the ground and melting into shallow puddles. Attmoz fell from it as well, laughing up a storm. Glaishur poked his head out from his room, Galvana sitting on his shoulders.
"I'm guessin' they're gone?" Glaishur asked.
"Oh yeah," Attmoz wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. "They're gone!"
A new laugh filled the room, belonging to none other than the spooky monster himself: Punkleton! He clapped his hands, cheering on the scare they gave. He was quite proud of their creativity!
"As funny as that was," Furnoss came into view, "This is the one time I'm letting it happen. You know we can't be seen by any common monster."
"What about rares?" The air monster commented.
"Don't even start."
Galvana hopped from their spot, scooping up the bucket of treats. They dug around in it, trying to find something up to their expectations. The rest of the kids came along shortly after, starting to fight over who gets what. Attmoz broke them up, holding the bucket high above their grasps and keeping Plixie from swooping in.
"Alright, cool it! Look, Glaishur and I can divide these evenly for everyone, but'cha gotta be nice."
"It's not fair!" Torrt complained. "Why can't we have a Spooktacle? It looks fun!"
"Because it isn't safe, bud. You know that."
"I promise that we will.. celebrate in our own way," Furnoss assured. "Maybe."
"Maybe?" Punkleton said with shock. "Maybe! Hah! There's no 'maybe' here! Spooktacle is all about costumes and masks - it's perfect for you guys! You know what? Stay right here! I know just the guy to call!"
"Call? Call who?"
Punkleton didn't respond, leaving out the front door to get better cell service. Furnoss followed in an attempt to get an answer, but he was met with nothing. Attmoz trailed behind, which in turn brought along Glaishur and Galvana. Soon enough, the celestials poured out into the night. They could see the distant lights and hear the muffled laughter, all tucked away in the town hidden from their view.
It wasn't long after Punkleton's call that a new face arrived, stumbling with every step and seemingly disoriented. They appeared to be about the same height as an entbrat, covered in gray fur, and two curled, black and gold horns being their most prominent features. They carried multiple bags and buckets in a rush to provide whatever is needed to whoever was called.
"Tawkerr! Going as a mummy again this year?"
"I got toilet papered."
"Oh. Hah! Anyway, did ya get the goods?"
Tawkerr dropped the armful of supplies, finally able to get a better view of who exactly he was helping. The young celestials stepped back, intimidated by the new arrival.
"Wh- Punkleton, is that?-"
"Costumes galore!" They interrupted, digging through the many accessories. "We ought to have something for everyone! C'mere ya rascals, pick something out!"
Attmoz and Glaishur encouraged the others to look through the options, Syncopite and Furnoss keeping an eye on the werdo. Punkleton went on to explain who Tawkerr was - a friend. The name 'Parlsona' came up frequently, though it seems she's off busy tending to a Spooktacle party. There were only four known werdos, though they strongly believed that there had to be more somewhere. Their lifespans weren't longer than an average monster - they were well aware of such. They wanted to find more of their kind someday.
"Are you.. Furnoss?" Tawkerr would ask.
"As strange as it is, yes. I was hoping we could keep a low profile," He glanced over to Punkleton, "But maybe it's for the better we ease our way into the world. We can't stay hidden forever."
"It - it's a honor to.. - uh, your majesty?"
Furnoss was humored but assured the gray monster that he was alright with being referred to by name. The other still felt uneasy in the presence of someone with such high powers, and it was hard to believe that all of the lost celestials were simply on Plant Island. Especially right in front of him. Syncopite gave a brief explanation, as it seems they're always required to do such.
The kids tossed aside jackets, headbands, shirts, and shoes of many kinds. The materials felt rather cheap, a few even ripping at light touch. Attmoz took out a ragged black and red collared cape, draping it over himself and clipping it shut near his neck. He did a few twists and turns, showing off the fluid movements. He added on a simple white shirt and black waistcoat, something he probably should have put on first.
"Vampire, eh?" The skeletal monster laughed. "Here, you're gonna want some of these!"
Punkleton took out another bag, this one containing sharp, plastic teeth. They came in many different sizes to appeal to the abundance of monster species, though some pairs could work for either. Attmoz took one for his own, clamping onto it and showing off his new fangs. He was given a plastic mask, having pale white skin, pointed ears, and a stupidly goofy smile. As much as Attmoz didn't like it, he knew it would be for the better. For now.
Glaishur dug around, helping the others pick before he did. Hornacle wanted to go as an astronaut, the suit and helmet perfectly hiding their identity, yet still being recognizable and creative. Galvana zipped themselves up in a Woolabee onsie, which initially seemed cute before they revealed to have also taken a pair of the jagged plastic fangs. Weird, but alright.
Plixie chose to go as a robot, though it restricted their ability to fly. At least it lit up! Vhamp chose the cowboy option, the hat casting a shadow over their face to keep them hidden. Torrt put on a simple smunkin costume with the stem as a hat, able to retract inside to appear solely as the festive food. He found it rather silly - exactly as they wanted! Blasoom suited themselves up with a shimmery green hood, a jeweled mask with a long pointed beak, and a dress that dragged behind with layers of blue, green, and black patterns. A peacock! Scaratar took a while to finalize her decision, but she settled on a dark queen. A black and purple gown, bejeweled silver crown, feathered mask to hide her face - she loved it! Almost matched Blasoom, too!
Glaishur was last. He was still unsure as to what he wanted to go as, pushing aside pieces of different costumes and taking suggestions. He came across a blue flannel, the sleeves covered in false rips to expose dusty gray furred arms. He found the matching headband and ripped jeans - oh hell yeah.
"Hey Synco, how about you?" Attmoz asked.
"I'm not going out."
"Oh, come on, it's our first Spooktacle. You have to at least dress up!"
Syncopite tapped their foot, leaving for the castle. He came out seconds later, a pillowcase covering their head.
"Huh?"
"I'm going as a pillow."
"That doesn't count."
"A marshmallow, then. Try not to catch me on fire."
"Can't argue with that."
Glaishur made himself present, dressed fully in a costume similar to an epic drumpler - a werewolf. It came with matching slippers, which admittedly were very uncomfortable, but he'd make it work. Syncopite snorted, holding back a bit of laughter before it was knocked out of him by Scaratar. Rude.
"Looking good, Glaish!" Attmoz praised. "Did it come with something to cover your head? Other than the ears."
"Oh - uh, maybe?"
The cold monster turned back around, digging around once more before coming across a latex mask. It was torn, bits of paint either smudged or missing around the teeth, giving it an unsettling look that likely wasn't the intended design. He put it on, mumbling at the uncomfortable feeling.
"It smells like fish."
"Ah, it's just like hanging out with Hornacle."
Hornacle snapped their claw at Attmoz's tail, narrowly missing him.
"Hey Smokey, are you dressing up?"
"It.. depends. I mean, if the rest are, I don't see why not."
There wasn't much left to choose from, even less so in sizes larger than a small. Perhaps a Sox? No - too similar to Glaishur. A firefighter? Too ironic. Furnoss picked out a long, deep blue cape with yellow stars and a matching hat with a fake gray beard. It was dusty and a little worn. It fits, at least.
"I'm sorry for the.. lack of sizes," Tawkerr apologized. "Punkleton said it was someone's first Spooktacle."
"I wasn't wrong, now, was I?"
"No, but.. I thought you meant, like, little kids."
"It's fine," the fire monster assured. "I think it looks nice, actually."
"Alright," Punkleton took back the spotlight, "Let's see.. everyone's got a costume, right? Now, all ya need are buckets or bags - to hold the treats in! Have any on ya, Tawks?"
"Uh.. Good question."
"I brought some!"
Tawkerr recognized the voice immediately. The celestials made sure their faces were covered, another new monster coming into their front yard. She was slightly taller than Tawkerr, sporting a pale blonde pelt and shorter pointed horns. Feathers grew a little ways past her elbows and coated her arms, pink and blue sprinkled among them and matching her dyed hair and polished hooves. If the horns weren't enough of a hint, her similar build defined herself as a werdo, and the other seemed glad for her arrival.
"Parlsona! You made it!"
"Sorry I'm late!" She yelled, coming to a stop. "The monsterlings just kept coming! I left Maggpi and Stoowarb in charge! Not my smartest moment, but you forgot a couple of things back at the house. Oh! Hello there!"
Parlsona kneeled to the others' level, complimenting their costumes and wishing them an amazing Spooktacle. They're adorable! She wondered their names or what species they were, but they seemed bashful. Probably best to let them open up on their own. She offered the many monsterlings a fabric bag, each having a unique and spooky design printed on in neon colors. The gift was well received!
"Why did we meet up at the old castle?" She asked. "You know it isn't safe to be in! especially during Spooktacle - the kids go crazy over it!"
"Doesn't matter. Let's get on with this!" Punkleton cheered.
Tawkerr and Parlsona gave their goodbyes and wished the group a happy Spooktacle. Their job was far from done, and the continuous calls from Maggpi and Stoowarb reminded them!
With anxious excitement, the celestials began their walk down to the nearby town for their first ever Spooktacle. What would come of the night? Only one way to find out!
#fallen stars msm#my singing monsters#msm#fallen stars au#msm au#fanfiction#msm oc#Spooktacle >:]#writing this while NBC plays in the background
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Restless Man Part III
Summary: Beau Arlen finds himself in the middle of a case with more twists than a country road.
Pairing: Beau Arlen x Reina Cetanwakuwa-Stanley
Word Count: 1015
Warnings: cursing, show level violence, derogatory remarks (some in native languages) poisoning, murder
A/N: The inkling for this work started when I heard Jensen singing Restless Man. This AU has elements based on historical information and canon from the Big Sky series.
*Set after the series finally 3:13 That Old Feeling.
A/N II: All Native American words/sentences are resourced from freelang.net and glosbe.com *some algorithmically generated on these sites.
*divider by @firefly-graphics
*no beta -all mistakes are mine
PT II Masterlist
Walking into the offices of Dewell & Hoyt, Jenny nodded to her partner as Denise commented, “Ohh girl, long day?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“We took the liberty of grabbing some food, figured you’d be hungry.” That made Hoyt smile, “Thank you. I missed lunch since Beau went MIA on me today.” Cassie laughed, knowing her friend too well. “Like you didn’t enjoy every minute of being in charge.” Hoyt plopped down in the chair beside her, opening a to-go container. “Wouldn’t deny that. It was a nice break from his constant chattiness. So, do either of you know anything about this meeting?”
“Not much,” Denise responds. “When Beau called, all he said was to make sure you and Cassie were here.” They tuck into their meals, catching up on the rest of their day, when the offices' rear entrance door opens and clangs shut. Cassie and Hoyt pull their firearms as heavy footsteps come closer, and a man appears in the back room's doorway.
“Whoa!!” Arlen raises his hands.
“Jesus Christ Beau! We could’ve shot you!” Hoyt snapped, lowering her gun. “I texted Cassie an hour ago saying I’d be coming through the back door.” Holstering her weapon, Cassie says, “The only text I got was from Kai.” Arlen pulls out his phone and frowns at the not delivered. “Must have been in a no-service area. My apologies for starting you ladies.”
Hoyt starts, “What’s up? It’s not like you to disappear at the drop of a hat.” Cassie adds, “Don’t forget leaving vague messages and sneaking through people's back doors.” Arlen laid the manilla folders he’d brought on the desk. “Gerald Stanley left a safety deposit box in my name containing these. They have some interesting information.”
“That’s where you’ve been all day?” Cassie asks, picking up the files and handing one to Hoyt. Arlen grabs the extra chair by Denise, who passes him a takeout box with her usual flirting. “Yes..sorta. The bank was the first stop. After we examined the boxes…”
“Who’s we?” Hoyt interrupts, making the other two women look at each other when Arlen says, “Gerald requested that his granddaughter be present when I opened the box.”
“You took Reina Stanley!” Hoyt’s voice rose. “What the hell, Beau? I’m your undersheriff! Why didn’t you call me?” Arlen gave her a look. “The inquiry needed to be handled with discretion, and based on your reaction, you wouldn’t been able to do that with her there.”
“Okay, moving on.” Cassie says, “You found these medical records. What did you do next?”
“We went to Montana State University and talked to a Biotechnologist before heading to Billings to see Gerald’s doctor. They said he came in with unusual symptoms, and after a battery of tests, couldn’t be certain what was happening but, off the record, thought it was poisoning.” Hoyt, annoyed but somewhat calmer, sat her file down. “Without a definitive diagnosis or other evidence, it’s all circumstantial, not enough to open an official inquiry.”
Arlen swallowed his mouthful of food. “Reina has information that I can’t disclose but points to a hypothetical scenario that could explain why someone, or ones, wanted Gerald out of the way. That’s why I wanted to meet up. Cassie,” he pulled a paper from his pocket. “Could you look into this for me? Going through official police channels might tip off whoever is involved.”
“Oh, wow. I see why you’d want to keep this quiet.” She reassured him they’d be discreet and handed it to Denise. “You do realize this also makes Reina a suspect?”
Arlen acknowledged that before turning to his undersheriff, “So Hoyt, you miss me today?”
“Ha! You wish.”
Arlen is on the phone four days later when he hears a knock on his door. He sees Cassie Dewell standing there and waves her in wrapping up his conversation. “Sounds good. Thanks for letting me know.” Hanging up, he turns his full attention to her. “Hey, Cassie, got something for me?”
“Denise spoke to a cousin-in-law who works in the state capital offices about that info you gave us. They said, off the record, several months ago, Gerald dropped by to see the governor without an appointment. By the time he left, they had put the Silver City expansion scheme on hold until the department had sufficient information about the environmental impact on some type of lizard living there.”
“Wow, I had no idea Gerald had that kind of pull but smart, using good old bureaucratic red tape.” Cassie raised an eyebrow. “One more thing: the cousin said besides the out-of-state developers, a subsidiary contractor under the Stanley umbrella is involved.”
Arlen got his confused expression. “Wait a minute, he had one of his contractors stopped? That doesn’t make sense. So we’ve got,” Arlen held up a finger, “One out-of-state developer, who I’m sure is very angry about the delay after investing time and money into this project.”
Cassie adds, “Two, the subsidiary contractor also heavily invested. Three, other businesses in the area who would’ve benefited from providing goods and services during the development. Four, landowners that were going to make a hefty profit from selling their property.”
“And five,” Arlen says, “The Stanleys themselves.” He grabs his football, squeezing it frustrated. “We’ve got way too many suspects.”
“I agree. I want to speak to Reina,” Cassie said knowingly, "Since she’s the one who gave you the information.” Getting up, Arlen followed her out of his office. “Maybe Gerald said something she considered irrelevant that could help narrow the list.”
“You do realize she’s still a suspect. Reina might’ve fed us that information to throw us off the trail because she’s the one who orchestrated Gerald’s death.”
“I don’t think so,” Poppernak said as they walked by and stopped at his desk. “You know something, Pops?” The deputy responded. “Maybe. I remember some gossip about Gerald forcing Holland to give him custody of Reina. Cody would’ve known...”
“Mo!” Cassie’s interruption of the overly talkative deputy was too late and saw bewilderment cross Arlen’s face as he spit out, flabbergasted.
“Cody Hoyt?”
SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70
Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl
RM: @deans-spinster-witch
#restless man#beau arlen#sheriff beau arlen#beau arlen x native ofc#beau arlen x reina cetanwakuwa-stanley#jenny hoyt#cassie dewell#denise brisbane#mo poppernak#cody hoyt#big sky season 3#big sky#big sky s3 au#big sky au#jensen ackles#katheryn winnick#kylie bunbury
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Absolutely no one asked for this but I had another silly McGoohan dream last night and because that's the second dream already maybe you all can tell me if that's normal or not. 😅
It was in a very big schoolyard, completely empty except for the trees around it. McGoohan was in his later Columbo days, cleanly shaven, without any glasses. He was being knighted by the queen. Two other people were standing next to her. No one else was to be seen. McGoohan seemed like he didn't know what the hell was going on, being Irish and all, but he let it happen. Then they gave him a flag in triangle form with his name on it.
After that he went to feed the pigeons in the yard and gave one of them the flag. The pigeon flew away with it. It flew to the rooftop and dropped the flag there. I climbed up there and picked it up. Then I saw McGoohan and another young man coming up, they were trying to catch a calico cat. The young man was ahead of him. I saw the cat in the room under me, climbing up a shelf, and alerted the young man to it.
Then McGoohan arrived and looked up at the cat. I was hiding at the door to the rooftop, didn't dare to make a noise. I could see his eyes but I couldn't tell whether or not he noticed me.
Then a lady appeared and told him if he caught the cat the game would be over and asked him whether he still wanted to chase after it. He said "I don't want to chase after it. I want to grow up."
Then I was overcome by the fear that he was going to run away and I woke up.
The first dream I had was back then when I just started making stupid McGoohan videos. It was even stranger.
It was a film where in the finale two men captured McGoohan and tried to put him into a car. He was carrying some sort of water bottle in a case (obviously a gadget) and was making excuses to not get into the car. Then he stabbed one of the men with a fork from the case. But the other man stabbed him from behind with a fork too.
Then it was in a small living room. He was waking up on an armchair facing the fireplace. Next to him was a cradle with dangling toys from above. He vaguely remembered there wasn't any toy there before. Then I'm not sure whether he was falling asleep again or fainting, or dying.
Then the film ended and I had to go somewhere but I came back for the end credits because there were some scenes there too. I was on the bus with my grandma. I had some money and grandma gave me some coins and I paid the bus tickets before we got off. The bus driver found a strange coin among the ones I gave him and he said I must be going to church. But I never went to church.
Then I got to the end credits. The color was a bit strange like there was a filter over it. It was in a palace. There was a French soldier and McGoohan was some sort of an outlaw. McGoohan told him they were not so different considering the way they were both holding on to their weapon. The French soldier then tried to recall a Chinese saying and went over to an old Asian lady to ask for help with the saying. It turned out the lady did not speak Chinese. Then she left.
Then McGoohan followed her to her house. She was staying with her grandson. So McGoohan came in to see two gay men together and he was like "Oh, am I intruding?". Then the grandma came and showed him her pension papers, she started out raising pigs together with her friends and then went through all sort of jobs to find herself with a meager pension in the end.
Then he was in a park, it was full of plants and trees, almost like a jungle. He was walking among the plants towards the camera. Then words came out on screen, not in one line across the screen but appearing and disappearing all over the place, his voice-over can be heard. It was about wars or nations or something like that.
TL;DR Your poor Farmer Bebop missed the chance to talk to McGoohan in a dream last night because she was too scared. If you can do better in your dreams, please tell him I say hi and thank him for not screaming at me in my dreams, LOL.
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Daegu Quarentine
Jungkook x reader
Gang/ zombie apocalypse au
Warnings:
Gore, violence, zombies, mention of drugs and drug dealing, weapons discharge in self defense, main character death, zombies, course language, zombies, drinking, did I mention zombies?
Summary:
They were the top of their game, known throughout the city as the smartest and most dangerous crew to ever hit the Daegu streets. But what’s going to happen when this group of young men encounter something right out of a horror film?
Word count:2120
Part 19===Part 20===Part 21
The soldier walked off after his little declaration, leaving our group to dissolve into pure chaos. The boys talked over each other, argumentative as could be as their voices raised more and more in an effort to be heard over each other.
I could understand their frustration, a lot had happened to us over the last few days so tempers were bound to flair. Right now though…right now was not the time to be arguing.
“Boys, please. We’ve got to stop all this.” I muttered, fingers rubbing at my temples as I closed my eyes to the throbbing pain in my leg.
They couldn’t hear me of course, too busy posturing over the bull shit that is Eun Kwang.
“Boys!” I barked, pain and frustration laced in my voice as I banged my fists on the countertop. “That is quite enough out of all of you!”
The arguing stopped instantly as all eye fell on me. I frowned, looking at each of them in turn before glancing out at the rest of the room. Everything had gone quiet. Or I should say every one.
“We can’t keep this up. Lives depend on the outcome of this. More than our own.” I gestured to the civilians huddled around the room, each of them looking at us with fear and hope. They seemed to understand well enough that if they had even the slightest of chances of getting out of this situation they had better at least pay attention to what was going on with us. There was no doubt at this point that they’d heard everything.
Namjoon sighed, shoulders dropping as he nodded in agreement with me. “Boss lady is right boys. This can’t keep up. Eun Kwang’s already got the jump on us with Jin and Hobi under his thumb. If we want any hope of getting them back and getting out of here we’re gonna have to work with him…for now…”
“That’s such utter bullshit! Don’t you remember what he did to us? What he did to Her?” Yoongi stepped up, fury written in every movement he made as he stalked over to poke Namjoon in the chest with his lighter while pointing directly at me.
“I am well aware Yoongi.” Namjoon grumbled. “I know because I’m partially responsible for what happened. We all are. That’s not the point though is it?”
I caught movement out of the corner of my eye as they argued, demanding my attention as I watched one of the old men shuffle towards us. He seemed hell bent on making his presence known, feet dragging slightly as he shoved his way between Yoongi and Namjoon.
“I don’t know what connection it is you have with this phone fella. But we’re safe here. Some of us don’t take too kindly with the mess you lot have made of things. Whatever it is that you’re planning, you need to leave us out of it.”
Several others grumbled along with him, some even standing as if to back the old man up.
“Don’t you lot get it?” Namjoon demanded, heckles raised as he frowned down at the old man. “You’re being used. Those military idiots don’t give a damn who lives or dies right now. At best you’re all being kept alive out of guilt, at worst you’re bait in case they need to make a quick get away.”
The man scoffed. “You have zero proof of that. They’ve been nothing but kind to us since we got here.”
“Kind?” Rose demanded, speaking up from her quiet corner of the room. “Would kind people beat up and abuse two innocent women? Lock you all into a kitchen and ‘allow’ you to leave twice a day for bathroom privileges? Would kind people hold you at gun point while you march around this building to their tune of get in line and comply? They’ve used you all to cook their food and clean their toilets and at best allowed you the illusion of safety and freedom, but the second a single one of you steps out of line I bet they’re gonna send you right outside the safety of this building as cannon fodder for those monsters out there.”
A look of horror washed over the group as realization dawned on them.
“Oh? Looks like some of you are familiar with that idea?” Jeanette grumbled, arms folded over her belly as she tapped her foot impatiently at the look of shame on their faces.
“What if…” I hummed, finger tapping the phone screen. Glancing up I frowned at them all. “What if we could prove they’re not as kind and courageous as you all think they are?”
The old man paused in his attempts to work the crowd up again.
“Oh? And how are you gonna do that?”
I pulled the ear piece out I’d been using before. “With this…”
***
“This is super important little buddy do you think you can do this?”
The young boy nodded as he imitated an adorably awkward military salute.
“This here is a blue tooth. It’s gonna let us hear anything the bad men say so that everybody here will know what’s going on alright? Let your dad know he has to take it from me so we can hear. It’s super important to our secret escape plan okay?”
The boy’s eyes widened, a look of wonder flashing across his face. “It’s just like a spy movie!” He whisper yelled.
“That’s right little buddy.” I smiled softly, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “And you’re job is the biggest most important part. You get to be the spy carrying super secret top information. Make sure nobody hears you at all okay?”
He nodded, form trembling in excitement that he seemed so desperately trying to contain.
“Yes Ma’am! I’ll be a real good spy just you watch!”
I grinned, winking at him as he dashed off to his corner of the kitchen to wait for his dad’s return.
“I really don’t like this…” Namjoon grumbled, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he eyed the door before turning to glare at the phone on the table.
“What choice do we have Joonie? These people aren’t gonna get behind our plan unless they have proof the military isn’t here to help us. We have to do this.”
“Yeah, but we’re putting our lives in the hands of a little kid barely old enough to know to wipe his own ass. I mean look at him. He’s already told the little girl what’s going on, who’s to say the others won’t know what’s going on by the time the troops come back in here?” Tae shuffled in his spot, eyes down cast as he made his opinion known.
“It’ll be fine Tae. I’m sure this will work, we just have to be patient.” I made my way over to Kook, curling up in the safety of his arms as I turned to watch the little kids play.
“This just has to work…”
***
“The fuck is this?”
My eyes widened in pain and panic as the bluetooth was ripped from my ear. Sure enough as soon as the men in uniform had come back the marine was at my side, eyes glaring harshly at me as he held up the small ear piece.
“It’s just a blue tooth. What, you never seen one?” I glared, snatching the item back and squinting my distaste in his direction.
“Hand it over.” The man growled, eyes narrowed as he held out his hand.
Namjoon stepped forward, hands in the air to show he wasn’t a threat. “Please sir, you can’t take it. She’s partially deaf.”
“The fuck’s that got to do with anything?”
“My buddy had it specially set up so she could hear what’s going on around her. Without the bluetooth she wouldn’t be able to head if those things came after her.” Namjoon took a step back, eyes wide and pleading. “Please don’t take it…sir?”
The soldier scoffed, shoving the device in his breast pocket. “You ask me she’s better off without it. One less mouth to feed if those things do get her.”
The other soldiers with him laughed, each finding joy in the idea of a deaf girl getting eaten. I could feel Kookie bristle beside me, but I reached out for him in reassurance and he immediately calmed down.
The soldiers filed out of the room, having had their fill of antagonizing and intimidating the group and slammed the kitchen door shut behind him.
“Now what?” The old man demanded, shuffling over to our group and making his previous demands known once again.
“Just a sec.” Tae muttered, tapping on the phone’s screen and turning the volume up for everyone to hear.
Voices came through the small phone speaker, hushed at first but increasing as the volume was adjusted properly.
"We've been using the choppers to lure the monsters into a funnel. But they're starting to get desensitized to the noise, only half the time will we get a full horde going that we can mow down. Eventually, we'll run out of fuel and bullets though and then what?"
"Evacuate boss? I don't know…"
"Evacuate how? We have too many civilians to protect. We can't very well take them with us, and leaving them behind is just as bad."
"Fuck em tho. For real, what's the point in saving a bunch of ungrateful assholes. Not to mention the drug slingers n shit. Fuck em. Folks in HQ don't have to know. Every man for himself, but protect your battle buddy. Not a one of them has ever seen a battle. They're just dead weight and if we don't cut it out now like the cancer it is, we're all gonna end up dead, or worse undead."
There began a murmur in the listening group. It started out as hushed whispers but ever so slowly became a dull roar of protests and outrage. Everyone knew that voice, it was Jenkins.
It didn’t exactly thrill me to have heard the words, even if I’d fully expected them. Honestly, there was a huge part of me that had fully hoped it wasn’t the case. That we wouldn’t have to rely on the faint hope that Eun Kwang and the others would pull through and save us.
But the looks on the people’s faces, young and old. The betrayal? That I just couldn’t stand by. It filled me with rage pure and simple, something I hadn’t felt in such a very long time. That those in power could dare to push us little people down at their own expense.
No. That could not stand.
The marine returned, grim faced and frowning as the other civilians mobbed him, demanding answers, demanding they be allowed to fight against the idiots that had put themselves in charge.
Jungkook was quick though, stepping between the American and his country men and calming them quickly with a look and a cleared throat.
“We won’t sit down and die. Not like they want us to. Trust me, we have a plan. And if we all work together I can promise that as many of us as possible will come out alive on the other side of this. I just ask that you have a little patience. And when the time comes I can promise those idiots out there will get theirs.”
The crowd dispersed amidst grumbling and complaints but dispersed nonetheless.
Namjoon quickly waved the two men over, having called Eun Kwang back and holding out the phone so that the marine could be involved in the conversation.
“Tell me what you know. Everything you can see from the outside and what you’ll have access to once it gets dark.” Namjoon spoke quickly, eyes sparkling with determination in the low light as he and the marine spoke to Eun Kwang and his men.
The strategy they came up with felt simple enough. Destroy what vehicles they could get to, sabotage the front door during the marine’s look out shift, cause an explosion or two to distract the other military men and women and make our escape.
Well...okay, so it really wasn’t all that simple…
“We’re relying an awful lot on Eun Kwang for this to actually work.” Yoongi muttered, fiddling with the lighter he always kept on him as he watched Namjoon work.
“None of us likes this Yoongs. Least of all Eun Kwang. But you heard him. He owes Kook, big time. He may be a two-timing backstabbing piece of shit garbage, but if there’s anything we’ve ever been able to rely on when it comes to him, it’s that he sticks to his word once he gets an idea in his head.”
#bts#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x reader#bts gang au#jungkook zombie au#bts jungkook x reader#bts zombie au#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#bts x reader#bts x reader insert#bts scenarios#bts jeon jungkook#jeon jungkook#bts fluff#bts angst#bangtan boys imagine
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Candle in the Night - Pirate!Jake Kiszka
a/n: so…this happened 😅 again, based on the ask i sent in to @tripthelightfandomtastic for wild wednesday and thanks to the wax play anon that sparked this idea 🤍 super happy with how it came out 😏
summary: captain jake kiszka finally breaks his hard exterior and shows you a good time
warnings: smut (18+ - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!!) wax play/temperature play, bondage, captain kink
word count: ~ 4.5k
It was a still night on the Abandoned Rose, the anchor dropped, keeping the ship tethered down for the time. It was a rather chilly summer night, your shawl around your shoulders as you walk along the deck.
Standing along the rail, you look out at the vast ocean, partly beautiful and partly terrifying. Though you found more beauty in it, not knowing what lies ahead, making every day more exciting.
And there was one thing that always made your days better.
Captain Jake “No Smile” Kiszka.
He is known to be the nicest and calmest captain that’s sailing the seas right now, yet he was a true captain. You haven’t interacted much with him, only once, ever since he agreed to allow you on board to travel with them to your next destination. But his presence was always comforting.
There was something about you that intrigued Jake. He was very much an observer, and he enjoyed watching you work around the deck, interact with the few other women on the ship, and just doing your own things.
But he made it his rule to never get involved with anyone that traveled or worked on his ship. As much as he was kind, he was still very serious about his position, hence his nickname.
But you. The way your body filled out the dresses you wore, how beautiful they looked on you and how he always thought about ripping them off. He tried hard to push those thoughts out of his mind, but it was difficult.
“What’s a pretty lady like you doing out here at night, huh?” His familiar voice rings out into the chilly night air.
Whipping around, you find Jake slowly stalking towards you, his hands in the pockets of his thin linen pants. That same stone cold expression graces his face, almost no emotion whatsoever.
Your eyes travel up and down his body, from his tan chest on show beneath his unbuttoned linen top, where the silver medallion necklace rests perfectly against his skin. Immediately, you notice the outline of his cock through his thin pants, and you have to look away before you get caught staring.
“Just needed to clear my head,” you tell him. He hums and comes to stand next to you, joining you in staring out at the expanse of the water.
“It’s a beautiful sight,” he comments, leaning on his elbows on the railing. His hat perfectly rests on his head, hiding the long hair that you’ve taken a strong liking to. But from what you could see, he had it pulled back in a bun at the back of his head.
“I never got to ask what your destination is?” He wonders, his eyes glancing over to land on you. You meet his gaze, and you feel a sudden chill run up your spine.
“I just wanted to get away from my old town. I didn’t really have a destination in mind. Whatever city is going to feel right when we dock, I’ll stay.”
Jake gulps and raises back up, facing you. You also stand forward and watch him take a couple steps closer to you.
“Can I ask you another thing?” His voice is low and soft. You nod, keeping your eyes on his. Your heart jumps to your throat when he raises his hand to gently tuck a piece of hair that had gotten free in the wind behind your ear. “Will you spend one night with me?”
You freeze in your spot, his hand not leaving your face. It had fallen to curl around the side of your neck, his thumb on your cheek.
“Like…sleeping? Or…” The look in his eyes tells you exactly what he’s talking about. It’s not innocent whatsoever.
“I think you know what I mean, darling,” his voice drops even lower, and you can’t help but shiver at the tone. It was so lust-filled, you wanted to jump him right in this spot.
“Why me?” You ask, gulping nervously. Jake chortles in response.
“Why not? I think you are very beautiful and what man wouldn’t want to bed a goddess such as yourself?”
“I wouldn’t expect a captain as poised and composed as yourself would talk in such a filthy way?”
“Oh sweetheart, then you are in for a real treat.”
He leans forward and crashes his lips into yours, the kiss immediately heated and needy. A few moments pass before Jake trails his kisses away from your lips, along your jawline, and down your neck.
He pauses to bite at a specific area, a soft, choked moan escaping your lips.
“Mm, but you have to keep quiet tonight, darling. We can’t have anyone else hearing your whimpers and moans.”
“Who says you’re good enough to make me moan louder than that?” Jake suddenly pulls away, his tongue not even having a chance to soothe the area he bit. His already dark eyes grow even darker, if possible, and he moves his hand to grab your neck, lightly squeezing it.
“You’re going to regret that when you see what I’m going to do to you.” Fear runs through your body, the words acting as a threat. “But I’m going to give you a safe word, okay? If anything gets too much, say ‘flag’. Got it?”
You nod in response, but that’s not enough for Jake.
“Say it.”
“Yes Captain.”
“Good girl. Now, let’s go back to my quarters. And be quiet. Can’t have anyone getting curious.” Nodding once more, you take his hand and follow him down to the halls of the ship, through the corridors and down to the end of the hall, where the largest room is.
You’ve never seen his quarters, and it’s nothing like you expected. It’s much bigger than your room, obviously, he has a desk on one side, filled with paperwork and things like ropes, compasses, and quills. The bed appeared to be quite cozy, and there were candles lit around the room. There was also a fire going on the opposite side of the room.
As soon as you step in the room, however, Jake attacks you in a kiss once again, his hands grabbing ahold of the sides of your neck to keep you in place. His hands grasp at your body, trying to tug your clothing off as quickly as he can.
“Get undressed for me, darling,” he breathes out against your lips. “And lay on the bed.”
You follow his instructions and quickly rid of your white everyday dress and flop onto the mess of blankets on his bed. He stands over his desk, messing with a couple things out of your line of sight. Until he turns around.
Holding two pieces of rope.
“What do you say we make this a little more fun?” He teases, stalking over to you. Raising yourself up on your elbows, your eyebrows furrowed together at him in confusion. “What? Never been tied up before?”
Anxiety runs through you as you shake your head.
“It’ll be alright, I promise. I won’t tie it too tight, okay?” Taking a deep breath, you sit up and wait for further instruction. But upon fully seeing your naked figure, he pauses.
“Before we get to that, I want to take a minute to admire you.” He drops the rope on the bed and crawls to hover over you.
His lips attach to the swell of your breast, nipping at it gently. You remember his rule on keeping quiet, so you swallow the moan that you were close to letting out; also, you didn’t want to stroke his ego too early in the night.
He leaves a few more bites in the area, soothing them right after with his warm tongue, before his lips close around your nipple, rolling it between his teeth. A whimper gets stuck in your throat once again, wanting to so badly release it.
“Come on, sweet girl. I know you can make at least some pretty sounds for me,” he practically begs.
“You-you told me to be quiet,” you groan.
“Yeah, quiet, not silent. I still wanna hear you.”
Nodding to yourself, he tries and teases you once more, switching over to the other nipple and biting it right off the bat. You finally let out a shaky gasp and you can feel Jake chuckling against your skin.
“So beautiful,” he whispers, trailing his kisses even further down your torso. He stops at your stomach and litters kisses all over, humming contently while doing so, like he was enjoying this just as much as you are.
Your hands maneuver to carefully remove his hat, and he doesn’t budge one bit, letting you know it was okay for you to do. Knowing how much he loves his hat, you set it on the bed rather than throwing it to the floor or somewhere in the room.
“These gorgeous, gorgeous thighs,” he whispers, finally reaching them. His hands softly caress the outside of them before trailing inside to spread them apart a little. “Pretty girl.”
His lips find their way to the insides of your thigh, leaving marks in their wake. The only sounds in the room were the creaking of the ship slowly swaying on the wavy sea, his kisses, and soft sounds from the both of you.
“Oh, you’re already so wet for me, huh?” He teases, running his knuckle through your slit, collecting some of the wetness that had pooled between your thighs.
“Just for you, Captain.” He hums in contentment and licks his finger, moaning at the taste, his eyes locking with yours.
“Just as I imagined, sweet as a peach,” he purrs. Your entire face flushes with heat and Jake finally sits back on his heels to get one final glance at you. “I wanna try something.”
“You already said you were going to tie me up,” you murmur. Jake nods, grabbing the pieces of ropes.
“I know. But there’s another thing, that’s the reason I’m going to be tying you up.”
He gets off the bed and grabs the rope again, moving to stand near your head. He ties each hand individually to each bedpost, confirming with you that they weren’t too tight or hurting. When you gave him the go-ahead, he walks away yet again.
You aren’t sure what he has in store, until he returns with two candles, one lit, one unlit. Curiosity fills your mind, but Jake says nothing as he quickly slips out of his clothing, his hard cock directly in your line of sight, making your mouth water.
“What’s the safe word?”
“Flag.” Jake nods and he kneels on the bed next to you.
In one hand, he holds the unlit candle. He lights it with the lit one, setting that one on the bedside table. He holds the candle above you, a straight face as he watches with concentration, the wax collect in a puddle around the flame.
“Jake, I-”
“You don’t address me as that tonight,” he almost barks at you. Feeling small, you nod and gulp.
“Captain, what are you doing?” You were scared to ask, and when he doesn’t respond, it worries you even more. But he knew you knew the safe word, and because he doesn’t hear it from you, he continues.
What you don’t expect is a single drop of wax to hit your stomach. You jolt in response to the warmth of it compared to your cool skin, but it’s a nice feeling overall. Jake takes a look at your face to gauge your reaction, and when he sees your mouth dropped open in surprise and arousal, he feels satisfied.
“Is this alright?” He asks.
“Yes, Captain.”
“Good. Try to stay still, okay?”
You do as he says, trying your hardest to keep in the same position. But it’s very hard when you have Jake’s cock within reach, but your hands are bound, plus the burning liquid dropping onto your skin.
He doesn’t really create a pattern, instead trying to find as much blank space as he could. However, around your nipple, he let it cover it as much as he could.
“Oh my god,” you quietly moan, throwing your head back against the pillows. Jake watches with lust in his eyes. He pauses, holding the candle upright, and moves to sit on the other side of you.
Just as he did the other, he carefully drips wax onto your bare nipple, watching it perk up at the temperature. But this time he does something different. He leans down and blows cool air onto the spot, adding to the sensation of it.
A whimper sounds through the room, and your eyes catch Jake’s as he watches you, continuing to cool the wax off.
“That feel good, sweetheart?” He asks.
“Yes, Captain,” you moan. But the absolute unthinkable happens.
Jake smiles.
You gasp in surprise, partly due to the continuing of wax covering your nipple and his reaction; his eyes focus on the way the red wax covers the area.
“Captain Jake “No Smile” Kiszka finally broke?” You tease, though you are cut off by a small, but still forceful slap from Jake. You let out another gasp, this time in pleasure.
“Kinda hard not to when I have such a whore laid out for me, letting me use her and inflict pain on her,” he says, groaning as his hand grazes his cock, needing a release, but wanting to continue this.
“You have a beautiful smile,” you tell him. But this time, he returns the gesture of a grin, meeting your eyes for a quick second. That’s quickly ruined when he moves to a different area on your body, not yet used to the temperature of the wax, making you jump a bit, tugging at your restraints.
The rough material of the rope wasn’t doing your skin any good, but right now, you didn’t really care.
Jake moves again and this time, he focuses on your thighs.
“God, the image of your thighs covered in this pretty red wax, it’s a fucking sight,” he moans to himself. “You are so, so beautiful.”
Jake keeps his system up, tipping the candle upright so enough wax would collect before tipping it to the side so it would fall onto your body. Though he was much more caring with your thighs, leaning down and blowing on each drop, just as he did with your nipple.
The contrast of the hot wax mixed with his cool breath was enough to send you over the edge. By now, you were most likely soaking the sheets, and you haven’t even been touched by him yet.
You take a moment to admire him, watching the way his eyebrows furrow together in concentration, how the candlelight on the bedside table and the flames from the fireplace illuminate his face, making him appear so angelic and soft.
This was a side of Jake you never thought you’d see. Sure, he was still very much dominant, but there was a soft side to him. He was treating you like the most beautiful woman in the world, and part of you wondered how many women he has said this to in order for them to sleep with him.
But that was a thought for another time, you were fully focused on your pleasure right now.
A small grin has remained on Jake’s face ever since he first smiled, and it was a sight you were going to keep forever. Not once had you seen him smile, even when the other women on the ship were flirting with him. But you…you broke him.
By just laying here, succumbing to the pleasure he was providing you, and the noises you were making to confirm what he was doing was making you feel good, he couldn’t help but smile. This beautiful woman was laid beside him, allowing him to do as he pleased. Of course he was going to be happy.
When the candle was as used as it could be, Jake blew the flame out and moved carefully around you to set the burnt end on the table next to the still lit flame.
Jake returns to his spot beside you, examining the artwork he’s created. Leaning down to your ear, he nibbles on your lobe lightly.
“Did you like that, darling?” He whispers.
“Yes, Captain. So much.”
“You can call me Jake now,” he tells you, pulling away. You gaze up at him in disbelief, but he just nods in confirmation.
“Jake, I need you,” you whisper, the restraints scraping your wrists again as you attempt to reach out for him.
“Of course, my beautiful. C’mere.” He hovers over you and kisses you so sweetly, nothing like the way he’s been treating you.
“What about the wax?” You wonder, breaking the kiss for a moment. Jake laughs, once again breaking the tough exterior.
“We’re gonna leave it. I love how you look all covered, decorated, almost. Like a masterpiece. Beautiful. Unique. Exquisite.” Your face feels like it’s on fire from his compliments.
He crawls down your body, being mindful not to rip any of the dried wax off, and comes between your legs, spreading them so he can fit.
“Wanna taste you even more,” he whispers, “god, you really are so fucking turned on by this, huh?”
“Please, Jake,” you whimper, desperate for his lips on yours already.
“Tell me what you want, dove?” Your heart bursts in your chest from adoration, the new nickname sending a shiver through your body.
“I want your lips on my pussy.” He chuckles and places a single kiss right below your belly button.
“So fucking naughty,” he tsks at you. “You tell me I’m being filthy for what I said earlier, but you can say that?”
“Please,” you beg once again. He lays down comfortably and gives into your plea. He wraps his lips around your clit, swollen with arousal, and hums softly, enough to send pleasure all throughout your body.
You let out a rather loud moan, arching your back to grind against his face. But he wasn’t entirely happy with how loud that was.
“Mhm, we can’t have that, darling,” he breaks away from you, staring up at you. His eyes were blown with lust at this point, desperate for both your release and his release. “Although I guess I am good enough to make you moan louder.”
“I’m sorry, Captain,” you immediately apologize. He smirks and returns to your center, licking at your folds, groaning against you as he laps up at your arousal.
“Taste so sweet,” he moans, closing his eyes.
“Can I touch you, Jake?” You plead.
“What do you wanna do, hm?”
“I wanna run my hands through your hair.”
“Mm, but I have my hair pulled back so you can see the way I eat you out, dove. I’ll untie you after I make you cum, okay?”
“Okay,” you whimper, your skin feeling very raw at this point, but not to the point where you needed to use the safe word.
Jake slows his actions before continuing, seeing that you’re still comfortable enough for him to do so. He goes on to add a single finger into your hole, curling it up inside of you. This elicits a whine from you.
“You sound so pretty for me, darling. Does that feel good?”
“Yes, so fucking good,” you moan as he swirls his tongue around your clit. Your thighs clench lightly around his head, yet he doesn’t seem to mind. He adds a second finger, scissoring them inside of you, moaning and groaning, his hips grinding into his mattress to relieve some tension.
“Cum for me, dove. I wanna feel you come around my fingers and on my tongue. I can feel you fluttering around me, I know you’re close.”
“Fuck yes, I’m so close, Jake,” you moan. His hand works inside of you as his tongue attacks your clit. Seconds later, your orgasm washes over you, your back arching off the bed, whines and whimpers leaving your lips as you try to stay as quiet as you can.
Jake pulls his fingers out of you and laps up at your wetness around your hole, moaning against you, his eyes closed as he enjoys the moment. When he finally releases you, he sits up and gazes at you, the entirety of his lips and chin are covered in your arousal.
The sight is definitely going to be burned in your mind, along with his sly smile, one that reads he loved that as much as you did. He adds to it by licking his fingers clean, keeping his eyes on yours.
“I’ll give you a moment before we keep going,” he lets you know. You nod and take a few deep breaths to calm yourself, your heart racing in your chest at this point.
Jake falls beside you on the bed, lazily stroking himself as he gazes over at you.
“Can I, Jake?” You wonder, nodding to his aching cock. He nods and sits back up to untie your wrists, throwing the rope to the floor.
“Oh, dove,” he coos, noticing your wrists were bright red and raw due to the rope scraping them.
“Not now, wanna make you feel good.” He lays back and watches you spit in your hand before grabbing onto him, stroking him just the way he was doing so a minute ago.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, is head lulling back against the headboard of his bed.
Through the dim lighting, you could see the way his eyebrows furrow together and his mouth drop open, groans escaping.
“Wanna ride you,” you whisper, carefully crawling on top of him. Some of the wax on your legs did happen to flake off due to your skin flexing, but Jake didn’t seem to care much. The wax covering your nipples was still in tact, and that’s all he entirely cared about.
“Holy fuck. You are…incredible,” he says as you grab his cock, lining it up with your center.
Slowly, you lower yourself onto him, sighs of pleasure releasing both of you. You stay put, clenching around him just to tease him a bit. Giggling at his reaction, you trail your fingertips along your body, feeling the waxy substance all over, Jake watching very intensely.
“(Y/N), shit, please move.” His hands grasp at your hips, begging you to give him some ounce of friction.
“Look at Captain Jake Kiszka, begging for a woman to please him,” you tease. However, you don’t last long, and begin bouncing up and down, his cock sliding easily in and out of you at a rapid pace.
Leaning forward, you kiss him and feel his hips snap up into yours, taking back control within a second.
“I’m not gonna last long, darling,” he groans after a few moments, his teeth tugging on his bottom lip. Nodding, he flips both of you over and he begins to pound into you, his necklace dragging across your body in the most delicious way.
“Cum on me, Jake. Want your cum on my tits.” He stays inside of you for as long as he can before he pulls out and awkwardly crawls beside you, pumping himself relentlessly.
Seconds later, ropes of his hot, white cum cover your tits and torso, contrasting with the red wax. When Jake finishes, he groans at the site, and you take his facial expression in.
He examines the way his cum drips from your nipple and down your breast, the wax making it harder for it to stick. But he didn’t care, and neither did you, because the sight was hot enough for Jake to cum again.
Leading him to remember that he wanted to give you one more orgasm. His hand cups your pussy, rubbing your clit at a head-spinning speed.
“Cum again for me, dove. I know you can, sweet angel.” With your eyes locked on Jake’s, a smile clearly plastered on his face, you could feel you were close again.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper, your legs squeezing his hand, your second orgasm crashing over you, much more intense than the previous, leaving you completely spent and lightheaded.
Jake finally removes his hand from your pussy after overstimulating you just a bit, and he falls beside you as you attempt to catch your breath.
Your eyes were closed so you couldn’t see Jake’s expression, but he was overjoyed with how tonight has gone. When he gets some energy, he stands from the bed and grabs a rag in his dresser across the room. He returns and goes to clean his cum up from you, but you stop him.
Your finger passes through the stream and you collect it on your finger, proceeding to stick that finger in your mouth, humming quietly around it, eyes focused on Jake’s. You continue this until all of it is gone, and the only thing that remains is the wax.
“So, how do you remove wax?” You wonder. Jake chuckles and wets the rag with the glass of water sitting on the table, being ever so gentle to scrape the dried wax away.
Doing just as he did when it was being dripped on, he blows onto your skin, making sure that no serious burn marks or scars were left behind. You were left with light red marks in some areas, but nothing too harsh.
Jake finishes removing all the wax, making sure to soothe some areas with his tongue, especially doing so with your nipples. Finally, he falls beside you, bringing you under the covers and into his arms. But the aftercare isn’t done for him just yet.
Taking ahold of your hands, he brings your wrists up to his lips, placing tender kisses along the red marks that were left from the ropes. He notices every time you flinch from his touch, a dissatisfied ‘hmph’ sounding from him every time.
“How come you didn’t tell me it was this bad?” Jake asks you, running his finger as lightly as ever along a particularly roughed up area on your right wrist. You shrug, not having a real answer.
“It felt good,” you respond. “I knew the safe word, there’s a reason I didn’t use it.” Jake smiles softly and gazes into your eyes.
“You’re really something, (Y/N),” he whispers, moving his hand to cradle your face. Bringing your face to his, he captures your lips for a sweet, tender kiss. One that wasn’t the start of anything new, one that wasn’t too shy, but poured just enough of his emotions into it.
“Can I ask you something, Jake?” You break from the kiss, your hand falling to his bare chest to mess with the medallion necklace.
“Does this have to be just a one night thing?” You were terrified to ask, not knowing exactly how he has seen this compared to you.
“No. I want it to be more,” he reassures you. “Ever since you arrived on the Rose, you’ve captured my attention. And tonight has proved that I do not want any other woman. You are a true goddess, and the sights displayed tonight are some I will never forget when you decide to leave the ship.”
Your hand trails down to his stomach, trailing along his hips, just feeling his soft skin.
“After tonight, I kind of don’t want to leave,” you admit. Jake presses a kiss to your temple, and you can feel the grin against it.
“I don’t want you to either, dove.”
—
gvf taglist: @maud-gone @streamingcolors-gvf @sunfl0wer-power @rhythm-of-space @fan-girl-97 @writingcold
#jake kiszka#pirate!jake#jake kiszka imagines#jake kiszka x reader#jake kiszka imagine#greta van fleet#gvf#greta van fleet imagines#gvf imagines#greta van fleet fanfic#gvf fanfic#jake kiszka smut#josh kiszka#sam kiszka#danny wagner#imagines#fanfiction#fanfic
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When there is no place safe and no safe place to put my head
Fandom: NCIS Los Angeles.
Characters: Marty Deeks, Kensi Blye.
Summary: After hearing disturbing noises, Deeks and Kensi confront their neighbors suspecting the husband is abusing his wife. But when things escalate, they find themselves in a dangerous situation.
For the @badthingshappenbingo prompt: domestic abuse.
AO3 - ff.net
Hey all, long time no see. It's been a while. I wrote this fic the week they announced the show's cancellation, and, after that, it just didn't seem right to post it right away. I never like to close doors, but I'm not sure if I'll ever write another fic for NCISLA. So, if this is my last, thank you. Thank you to the show, to Deeks and ECO, and the rest of characters and cast, for changing my life. And thank you to everyone that read and commented on my stories in the past. If it weren't for all your support, I wouldn't still be writing fanfiction 5 years after that one time I took a chance and decided to post 'Gray'.
Kensi walks into their house and immediately knows something is off. Deeks is kneeling on the floor, ear pressed against the wall, eyes closed in concentration.
"Deeks? What are you doing?" she asks, setting her bag down on the kitchen table. "What's going on?"
He jumps at the sound of her voice, turning to face her with a look of concern on his face. His worry briefly flashes away, his eyes darkening when he traces her long legs, but it comes back tenfold when a crash sounds next door. "Shhh, it's happening again."
Kensi lets out a sigh of long-suffering, knowing exactly what he's talking about, but asking anyway. "What's happening again, baby?"
"He's hitting her again," Deeks says simply, blue eyes still darkened but for a completely different reason.
"We don't know that's what's happening here, we have talked about this," Kensi states, not wanting to dismiss Deeks' concerns but also not wanting to jump the gun. "For all we know they could be doing renovations."
Deeks shakes his head and gestures for her to come over and listen.
Kensi reluctantly nods and kneels down beside him, pressing her ear to the wall. She can hear the muffled sounds of a woman crying, and a man shouting in the background. "Maybe they're watching a very emotional movie?" She suggests.
"I know what house renovations sound like, and this isn't it," Deeks argues, abandoning his post by the wall and moving to the window. "I've also seen you watch Titanic a million times, and this is a different type of crying."
Kensi chuckles but shakes her head. "Maybe, but it's not something for us to deal with. We're supposed to be keeping our heads down," she pleads, joining Deeks by the window. She wraps her arms around him and rests her head on his shoulder, raising on her toes to kiss his cheek. Eventually she turns him away from the window and presses a kiss to his lips, trying to distract him.
Deeks deepens the kiss but just as quickly pushes away and looks at her, a pleading look in his eyes. "Kens, please. You know I've been hearing it for a few days now, and it's getting worse. I can't just sit here and do nothing."
Kensi presses their foreheads together and whispers, "Since we got married, we've already moved four times. I know a couple were due to the job, but there's also that one time you thought our neighbors were smugglers, and then you were convinced the old lady next door was working for Kessler. And I really don't want to have to move again. I so happen to love this house, and Rosa is settling down. She's in a good school and is making friends."
Deeks sighs and smiles sheepishly at her. "Okay, I was way off about the smugglers, but I still think there was something off about Edith, we just moved before I could prove it." He drops his head on Kensi's shoulder and holds her close, some of the tension ebbing from his back.
She hugs him back and they stay like that for a few minutes, but then another crash sounds from the house, followed by a shriek and what appears to be glass breaking. Deeks tenses again and dislodges himself from her arms, turning back to look out the window.
Kensi sighs and runs a hand over her face, dropping on the couch with a grunt. "Deeks, it could be a dog playing and hitting some furniture, or kids running around the house. Or they could be having issues with their plumbing or replacing the carpet. I'm not saying it's not what you think, but we can't be sure."
Deeks shakes his head, and turns around, running a hand through his hair, pushing back the wayward curls that fall on his eyes. "Kens, I know what domestic abuse sounds like," he murmurs, holding her gaze. "I wish a neighbor had cared enough when I was a kid to try to interfere. Now I can do that for someone else and I need to do it. I need to stop another 11-year-old from having to shoot their father."
"We don't even know if they have kids," Kensi tries, but stops as she takes in his broken expression. His eyes are on her, but he looks haunted, and his mind's eye is clearly lost in memories of a long-lost past. "Okay, let's call the cops then. Let them handle it."
"Cops won't do anything. She will say it was an accident and they will go and turn a blind eye to what's in front of their eyes." Deeks keeps talking as he walks to the bedroom, coming back wearing boots, and a jacket, the outline of his off-duty weapon hidden enough for a civilian but not well enough for his partner to miss. "Besides, there's nothing an abuser hates more than cops showing up unexpectedly at their door."
"Yes, and I'm sure they will love a couple of federal agents instead," Kensi deadpans.
"I'm not an agent. I'm an investigator," Deeks says matter-of-factly.
"You say that like any of us even knows what the difference is," Kensi says, standing up from the couch and catching Deeks' wrist.
A fleeting grin crosses Deeks' lips but he quickly pushes it away. "I don't have to go like an agent or investigator, I can be a concerned neighbor wanting to know if everything is okay, or just a clueless neighbor asking for some salt." Deeks softly pulls his arm away and continues to the front door. He sets his hand on the handle and turns around, his expression still serious but a twinkle in his eye. "Or I can just say my wifey is baking a cake and ran out of sugar." He grins and her eye roll is so automatic, so quick and familiar, that he almost misses it.
Kensi tries to pin him with a serious look, but a soft smile breaks over her face anyway. "Yeah, right. Like I ever bake anything."
"Yeah, you just buy a cake and try to make everyone believe you bake it." Deeks's lips curve upward into a smile at the memory from so long ago. "But they don't know that."
Kensi's eyes crinkle in silent response. She worries at her bottom lip, like Deeks has seen her do a thousand times when he's trying to make her laugh and she's trying to resist. It's as distractingly sexy as it's telling, and his resolve almost crumbles, forgetting about the neighbors and taking her to the bedroom instead.
Kensi sees her husband run his tongue over his lips and feels her body respond. Her feet automatically carry her a few steps forward and her hands are suddenly on him. One hand tangles on his hair and the other braces against his chest as though to get her point across. "Are you sure you don't want to call the cops to deal with that and go have some fun in the bedroom? Rosa won't be home for a few hours," she whispers next to his ear, tickling the soft skin there, before she inches down and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.
"I, uh, I-" Deeks is uncharacteristically at a loss for words, his mouth chasing after hers when she pulls back. He scrapes his teeth against her bottom lip and his eyes linger on them.
She laughs and tiptoes back towards their bedroom, her hands beckoning Deeks forward.
Deeks' first instinct is to follow, to not let her go so easily, but he has a duty that goes far beyond the LAPD oath he once swore and the NCIS manual he now follows. "Let's put a pause to this and we will continue later," he says, opening the door. "I'll be right back. You don't have to come."
Kensi groans and stops in her tracks, knowing she'd follow him anywhere he goes. "You're not going alone, Deeks. Give me a minute." She leans down and puts her shoes back on, then goes to grab her gun and badge and follows him out the door.
"Thank you," he says softly, his all-too-familiar grin finding its natural place on his face.
Kensi grins and squeezes his hand. "Anytime, partner. Now let's go bust down some doors."
"Wait, no, no. No busting down doors. We're just trying to help not cause more trouble," Deeks calls when he's left alone to chase after her, silently wondering why he thought it was a good idea to get his kickass wife to go confront their neighbors.
-x-x-x-
Together they make their way to their neighbor's house and softly knock on the door. As they wait, they take stock of the decaying plants on the sad looking pots on the porch and how all the curtains in the house are drawn. Eventually, a woman answers and they introduce themselves as neighbors, recalling how they met once why taking out the trash.
She reminds them her name is Cindy and tries to make some small talk but hesitates when her husband calls from inside the house demanding she turn the solicitors away. "I'm sorry, I was right in the middle of making dinner," she explains, blushing, but it's barely visible over the bruise already forming on her cheek.
"Is everything okay?" Deeks asks quickly as she begins to push the door shut. "We've noticed some noise coming from your house and wanted to make sure everything is alright," he says, trying to keep his tone light and not acussing.
Cindy's eyes flash and she inadvertently turns around back to the house. She opens her mouth but before she can say anything her husband, Johnny, steps up beside her. He instantly sets a hand on her hip and keeps the other behind the door, as if to limit their view of the inside.
"We don't want whatever you're offering, you can go now," Johnny says, trying to sound polite but coming across as demanding.
"We're not trying to sell you anything, we're your neighbors," Kensi interjects, signaling to their house. "We came to see if everything was alright after hearing some concerning noises."
Johnny seems taken aback by her directness but quickly composes himself. "Oh, sorry. Everything's fine. Just a minor disagreement while organizing the kitchen." He waves his hand dismissively and begins to pull his wife back inside.
Kensi can tell that he's not being entirely truthful and doubts the wife would risk saying anything incriminating in front of him. She glances over at Deeks, silently asking how far away he wants to take this.
Deeks subtly shakes his head, and says, "All good then. We also wanted to know if you've been having problems with your plumping or if it's just us."
Both Johnny and Kensi turn to him dumbfounded but he just smiles in return. "We got a leak, and the guy said it was due to old pipes. We're still new in the neighborhood so we were wondering if you have had any issues like that."
Johnny narrows his eyes, his defenses up after the abrupt subject change, but he answers anyway, "I can't say we have. But anything like that should have come up in your inspection so why don't you contact your realtor and let us move on with our night."
"We did," Deeks explains, "he said we should ask some of the neighbors to see if it's a community-wide issue. If you come with Kensi, she can show you."
Johnny reluctantly nods and follows Kensi across their yards, calling behind his back. "Go back inside, honey. I'll be right behind you. And remember I don't like my steak burned."
As they near the house, Kensi turns to look at Deeks and lifts her brow in a way that would be entirely threatening if she didn't look so hot, silently asking what the hell she's supposed to show him.
Deeks shrugs and throws her a wink as if to say you're a federal agent specializing in undercover work, figure it out.
Once Johnny is out of sight, Cindy tries to retreat back into the house, but Deeks asks her to listen to him for a second. He makes sure to take a step back as he speaks, his tone as soft and non-threatening as he can muster. "I think I know what's going on here and I know it's hard. I've been there before." At Cindy's disbelieving look, he raises his shirt slightly and points to a faint scar over his ribs. "It was a beer bottle when I was seven."
"I'm sorry," Cindy murmurs, and blinks her eyes rapidly but they fill even quicker.
"Thank you," Deeks says honestly. He knows the husband won't stay away for long, so he steers the conversation back towards her. "We can help you, if you want. You just say the word."
"He's not- He's not really." Cindy stops and wipes her tears away, winces when she bumps her blackening eye. It seems to spur her on and she nods. "How?"
"First we start by getting you away from here. I have some friends who can take you in for the night, or we can pick a shelter. I've volunteered at a few around LA, I can get you a bed. Then I'll call some friends at the LAPD." Cindy nods again and Deeks smiles, daring to hope this story will have a happy ending. "He won't hurt you again, I promise."
But Johnny is not as easily distracted as Deeks hoped and he quickly realizes what they are trying to do. Before Deeks knows what's happening, Johnny is on his face, clearly having heard at least the end of what he said. He's past being defensive and full on aggressive as he shouts, "What're you getting at?" He pulls Deeks back so roughly that he trips and would have fallen down if not for Kensi steading him. "Are you trying to accuse me of something?"
Deeks stands up straighter and doesn't back down. "We've heard some noises that sound like domestic disputes and we're concerned for your wife's safety," he says, no longer concerned with keeping the conversation civil.
Johnny's expression turns murderous and for a moment it's not his neighbor looking back at Deeks but one Gordon Brandel. "You have no right to come into my home and accuse me of something like that."
As Johnny becomes more agitated, voice raising and arms flailing about, Deeks turns back to Cindy. She's no longer inside the threshold of the house, but fully standing in the yard and cowering behind Kensi. Tears stream freely down her face and she's hugging herself as her small frame shakes. Deeks takes that as his sign and pulls out his phone.
He tries calling 9-1-1 but the husband suddenly punches him in the face, making him stumble and fall to the floor. Kensi quickly steps away from Cindy and pulls out her gun, pointing it at Johnny and telling him to back off.
Kensi helps Deeks get up and he wipes the blood from his lip. He cleans his hand on his pants and reaches back, grabbing his handcuffs off the waistband of his jeans and taking a step towards the husband. "You're under arrest, dumbass."
"It was self-defense," Johnny tries to claim as Deeks pulls his arms behind his back.
"I never laid a hand on you. And we have two witnesses to prove it." Deeks pushes him down to sit on the steps leading up to the porch and proceeds to dial 9-1-1, addressing Johnny again once he's done with the call. "And you're not only going down for domestic abuse, but also for assaulting a federal agent." He pulls out his badge and smiles as he shows it to Johnny.
"Good luck getting out of that one," Kensi says gladly. With the husband taken care of, she goes back to Cindy and hugs her softly. The distraught woman sinks into her arms and finally lets all her anguish out. Kensi runs her hand over her back and lets her sob.
The next hour is a flurry of activity as LAPD shows up to arrest the husband and take Deeks, Kensi and Cindy's statements. A few cops who know Deeks joke about him missing them so much he had to get involved in their call, others snicker about NCIS clearly having no grooming policy if he still looks like that, and the lucky few who actually know him and his past walk quietly to him and squeeze his shoulder in understanding before texting him later that night offering their support.
Then Johnny is taken into custody, and they try to help Cindy clean out the mess in her house. She refuses for the night but accepts their help the following day and takes the business cards they offer.
It's past dinnertime when Kensi drapes one arm across Deeks' shoulder and they make their way back. They stay silent as they walk across their front yard, eyes locked down as they try to ignore the abundance of neighbors that came out of their homes to check out what was happening outside.
Once inside, Deeks sits down on the couch and leans forward, resting his head in his hands. While Kensi goes to the freezer, coming back a moment later with a frozen bag of carrots. "Thank you," Deeks whispers when she carefully pushes him back against the cushions and sets the bag over the bruised side of his mouth.
They sit like that for a bit, the icy cold soothing but not as much as the featherlike touch of her fingers running through his hair. "I'm sorry we have to move again. I really didn't mean for this to happen." Deeks lets out a sigh and tips his head back to look at her face.
"I know," Kensi says in an exhale, tugging his hair away from his forehead so she can press a kiss there. "This wasn't your fault, Deeks."
"It kinda was." He smiles sheepishly and tucks himself closer against her side.
"Maybe. But we did the right thing. You know I don't like to see you hurting, physically or otherwise, but I'll never fault you for putting yourself in harm's way to help others. It's one of the things I love the most about you." Kensi says genuinely, before adding with a smirk, "Besides, you will make it up to me."
"Is that so?" Deeks raises an eyebrow in question and teasingly pokes her side.
Kensi nods and grabs her laptop from the coffee table, pulling up Zillow before she sets it over Deeks' outstretched legs.
Deeks groans but starts searching anyway. "I promise, from now on, I'll be more careful so we can stay put for a while. And who knows, maybe our new neighbors will be a little more peaceful."
"Ha! The only chance of that happening is us moving into the countryside where we wouldn't have neighbors for a few miles," Kensi mutters, rolling her eyes, knowing that trouble seems to find them no matter where they go.
"Who's moving into the countryside?" Rosa asks, alarmed, as she pushes open the door, followed by a nonchalant Roberta, who's sipping what looks suspiciously like a Margarita.
Deeks can only groan again at the sight, realizing Kensi is not the only woman in his life he will have to make it up to. But as she grabs his hand and squeezes once, he remembers they're a team and he doesn't have to face any challenge alone, be it arresting one's neighbor for domestic violence or having to move to a new place because of it.
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Into Eternity
Chapter 1
Summary: That encounter with Red Hood truely was unforgettable, but now it's like your seeing him everywhere. What a mystery.
tag list: @irishbelle34 @ceshacat
Content: Slight PTSD, choking (not sexual), pills (not content for full book!!!)
Words: 1.6k
Notes: I got a lot of love for the prologue, so I'm posting chapter 1, it's much shorter. Shout-out to my editor/beta reader!!!(@batshat ) follow them!!
Greeted with a slap on the back, you look up to see a familiar ginger head, your coworker and friend of two years; Wess.
"Hey, how's the day been?" He asks cheerfully, practically hanging off of you as you wash the dishes. Clingy, as he usually was, it was always good to see him being himself.
You give a dry laugh, "Same old, same old." You say.
He scoffs at you, his arm falling back to his side as he turns to grab his apron. "You've been acting weird lately," he says "I'm worried."
Giving the most real laugh you can muster, you turn to him. Your hands are still scrubbing away at the plate you're holding.
"You must be demented." You call out. He glances up at you and finishes tieing the apron around his waist. Challenge flashes through his eyes as he steps toward you.
"Who you calling demented, huh?" He jabs playfully.
Wess wraps his arm lightly around your neck, pulling you in a headlock.
You know it's only playful, but panic sets in. Your chest squeezes, simulating the feeling of choking. Dropping the plate you grasp at Wess's arm, clawing to get it away. A loud shatter erupts and the air falls silent.
The arm around you slips away, he calls out. "What the fuck dude?" Anger swimming in his voice. "I was just playing."
Your hands grasp at your neck, each breath coming in short quick succession. A panicked call of your name rang out, before you knew what was happening the world went sideways. This wasn't right, perhaps gravity flipped the other way?
The moment you came back too, fingers podded at your eyes forcing them open. A flashlight blinds you, and with a grimace, you reach up swatting the light.
"Honey, I need you to cooperate with me okay?" Fingers prod at your other eye and the light appears again. When the light has been removed the vision of a woman in uniform, with long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail consoles you.
Her voice is soft and sweet, but her eyes are an icy blue. Quite a contrast.
"What's your name?" She asks.
Groaning at the pain in your head setting in, you raise a hand to feel it. The vague memory of what happened comes back to you. Unhappily, you grumbled your name.
Her hand rests on your shoulder, "Good, how old are you?"
Every answer that comes after is met with groggy responses. Eventually, you sit up. Realizing that you're no longer in your workplace’s kitchen, but instead inside of an ambulance.
The burning, the panic, and the breathing all come back to you. Confused, you turn to the lady who sits beside you.
"What happened?"
For a moment she glances up at you, then looks back down at the item in her hands.
"Coworkers say you passed out, but we think that was just the result of a panic attack. Have you been choked before?"
Annoyed, and ready to go home you huff. Your eyes are coming to rest on your ginger-headed friend. He stands with his arms crossed and lips jutted out in a pout, he's defensive. Secretly you pray he doesn't look over to see you awake, having him bug you with a bombardment of questions was the last thing you wanted.
The past month had been hell enough, with laying down and going back to dreamland being your ultimate fantasy.
With tired eyes, you look back at the lady beside you, who takes out a stethoscope from around her neck and presses the earpieces to her ears.
"Just take me home." Your tired grumble brings a frown to her face.
"We'll do that soon enough."
She was right, they did just that. It was surprising that they even took you home. You'd expect a call from your boss sooner or later. Something you didn't look forward to.
You were jostled the moment you stepped through the door, the rasp of your mother's voice scratching at your ears, she shakes you with a hand on each arm.
"What the fuck happened?! I was so worried. I got a call from the police and I thought you got hurt!" She exclaimed.
Her worried searching eyes realize seeing the tire in your own. A deep frown etched on her face she slides a hand onto your back, guiding you to bed.
Her silence speaks a thousand words but your bed speaks more. The sight of your dirty beige bed sheet and brown cover normally disgust you, but today they bring you great comfort and relief. Never again would you forsake the best thing in the world, sleep.
When you wake again it's dark, the night sky outside your window welcoming you. You stare blankly, the realization slowly coming to you. Hurriedly turning onto your stomach, hands spilling over the side of the bed and grasping your phone, you scan the phone screen.
No new messages, surprising considering how bitchy your boss was. Checking the time with a sigh and placing it face down on the bed you swing your feet over the side, sitting straight up.
You rub the palm of your hand against your eyes till colors swim in the darkness.
It takes a moment to collect these different thoughts before you get moving: Picking up the various clothes strewn across your floor and placing them in a basket. Creeping out of your room and through the small hallway, you make your way towards the door at the end of the hall.
Slowly, you peek in on your mother's sleeping form. Her rising and falling chest bring comfort to your swimming head.
Her face is sunken in, making it easy to see her skeletal outline. Has she always been that boney?
Closing the door and making your way to the small kitchen, you sneak through the dark living room.
You can just barely make out the outlines of trash everywhere. It was disgusting the fifth that littered this place, but no matter what you did you can never seem to find the motivation.
Flipping on the kitchen light, you make your way to the counter beside the fridge where a multitude of pill bottles sit scattered about.
Picking up the one closest to you and shaking it, you're disappointed to find only one pill left. It'd only been a week since you got it, you blame yourself for not checking how many were actually in the bottle when you received it.
Placing it aside with a grumble, you shuffle around. Picking up the nearest jacket in sight, you slip it on and make your way towards the fire escape.
As you reach towards the cold dark metal of the window, the loud sound of someone clearing their throat startles you.
Spinning around, you press yourself flat against the glass with a gasp.
In the living room on the other side of the couch stands Red Hood with his helmet tucked under his arm, he again wears the mask that shields his eyes.
"What are you doing in my apartment?" You hiss at your intruder. Your voice stays low so as to not disturb your mother.
A smug smirk curled at the Red Hood's lips, your surprise amusing for him to observe.
As he walks around the side of the couch towards you he speaks, his voice is low as if to copy you and dripping with amusement.
"I'm simply stopping by to say hi." He claims.
He's looking everywhere but you, as he walks closer, observing the area around him.
"Stop making excuses and leave." You slide the window open and step to the side, gesturing for him to get out.
His smile falls, and he raises his brows.
"Me?" He asks, feigning innocence, and pointing at himself, looking around.
You growl, gritting your teeth. Watching you walk behind him, he mocks confusion but the smile is still evident on his lips as he looks at you from over his shoulder.
Placing both hands on his back, you begin to shove as hard as you can against him. He moves forward, maybe too easily, he could have fought against you but you didn't argue.
"Get. Out."
"So hostile." He mused.
Stepping back, you slam your shoulder into him as a last resort. Surprised, he stumbles forward, his helmet falling to the floor as he climbs out onto the fire escape.
"Rude."
Walking over to the helmet, you pick it up. As you turn it right side up to throw out the window you're caught off guard by a small bottle falling from inside.
Pausing, you reach down to pick up the bottle. You're quick to realize what it is.
"You're welcome."
You look over to see Red Hood smiling at you, he stands before leaning down again. "Oh, and keep the helmet, I'll be coming back for it later." With that he disappeared from sight.
Your gaze lingered on the window, his words echoing in your head. You swallow hard, reaching over to pick the helmet back up. Tucking it under your arm and making your way to the window you attempt to shut it with these items in your hold but it just doesn't budge, aggravated, you drop the helmet and beat on the jutted out lip of the panel until it falls into place. Satisfied, you pick the helmet back up before making your way to the mess of pill bottles.
He seemed so insistent on helping you, very unlikely. He was a killer, a murderer, murderers don't care. What time would he have to waste on a person from the slums when he had bad guys to kill? So why you?
#jason todd x reader#jason todd#red hood x reader#jason todd x you#batman fanfiction#fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#slow burn#ptsd
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HII! I’d love to request something from TURN where the reader is peggy’s sister and in a relationship with Simcoe and one day an ex lover of the reader comes back for her? :) tysm for reading, i have such a hard time finding jealous/possessive simcoe fics 😂
envy
TURN!Simcoe x F!reader
[a/n: hello love! I gave this my best shot! I don’t get the opportunity to write for Simcoe often, and I hope I got this right! thanks for requesting! ♥️]
Maybe you weren’t cut out for just some ‘alone time’. It seemed wherever you went, something, someone, tended to follow, when all you wanted was to just have a drink, and breathe a little less stuffy air.
So when you sat at the bar, swirling your drink around, it honestly did not surprise you too much to hear that nasty, crude voice behind you. It was drunken, surely, crass and full of vulgar language.
“Welllll, if it ain’t my old ray o’ sunshine.”
They warble, mug of ale still in hand as they drop themselves down next to you. Annoyed, you hold in your huff of disgust as you turn to greet the new guest to your left.
“Hello, Jessie.”
You seethed out from behind grinding teeth.
“Got nothing to say ‘sides hello? We got a lotta history together, you didn’t jus’ forget all that, did ya?”
They’re completely trashed, you can smell it on their lips. Mustering an unrefined smile, you set your drink down and let them have their fun.
“Yes, I do recall all the times you came home drunk, just like this.”
You don’t hear the sound of the tavern door swinging open, nor the heavy footfalls that follow. Here you are, catering to the bastard, ready to mouth off when they place a hand on your face, when a set of gloved hands reach over you and shove their hands off of your skin.
“Rather inappropriate to touch a lady like that, especially one who wants nothing to do with your sorry ass,”
You gasp in surprise as Jessie stands to meet Simcoe, beer left on the bar as they raise a hand to swing.
“Jus’ who the hell—“
“y/n, I suggest you turn away.”
Pushing your drink back across the bar, you stand shakily, spinning to face the opposite wall as you hear the unclasping of gloves.
Then, the resounding crack of bones breaking in one’s face. A thud follows, and then Simcoe’s voice.
“Alright, y/n. Let us be on our way.”
His arm finds yours easily, tossing coins on the bar as he walks you to the tavern exit. It’s hard to meet his eyes regularly, even more so now as all you can do is stare at the ground.
“I hope I intervened at the right time. They better of not touched you elsewhere.”
His voice is soothing, but full of anger, the way his tone tapers and his hold on your arm tightens.
“No, we were just talking, before.”
“Why would you entertain such a thing?”
You turn away, brushing hair behind your ear.
“Optimistic that they had changed? y/n, love, people like that never do. They never deserved you in the first place.”
You swallow thickly, nodding in agreement.
“Thank you, John. For that. In there.”
“Of course.”
There’s a lull of silence as the two of you continue on.
“And besides.”
John suddenly decides to add, your head hikes upwards to meet his gaze.
“You’re mine, y/n. No one else’s.”
Your heartbeat was so loud, you were afraid he was going to hear it.
“I do not share.”
[a/n: pffff im so sorry if ur name is Jessie.. I wanted something gender-neutral, and more time-period like. I hope this was ok!!]
#sul writes#turn amc#turn washington's spies#john graves simcoe#turn Simcoe#turn John graves simcoe#Simcoe x reader#turn simcoe x reader#captain simcoe
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✎ Lucas Sinclair/Max Mayfield — "higher ground (rocket love)"
tags | ONE-SHOT, Aged-up, lumax-centric, fluff and humor, alcohol, self-indulgent, future fic, mentioned mileven
rating | T
Lucas has barely touched his gin before he turned to the woman who plopped down on the barstool next to him. She was his age, and loose red hair strands fell on her forehead as she called the bartender.
Lucas meandered his drink as the woman ordered. He fiddled with his phone as she sipped her drink, eyes crossed beneath dim lights. She still hasn't looked at him.
"Hey," he lowered his voice, "do you come here often?"
"No." She grinned into her drink.
"What brings you here, then?"
“If I tell you,” she narrowed her eyes at him, “I’d have to kill you.”
"Ah." His gaze dropped back to his glass, "I'm a good listener?"
She hummed, "How good are you at keeping secrets?"
"I'll swear on my baby niece's life."
"Good." Her eyes swept through the other patrons before she leaned towards him. As if under a trance, he leaned closer towards her, magnetized by freckles and a promise of a secret.
"So, will you tell me your name?” He asked, “Or maybe we could get to unwinding-"
"I cannot tell you my name." He was trapped in her gaze. "But if you don't get out of here right now, you're going to die."
Lucas furrowed his brows, "now what's that supposed to mean?"
"My mission is strictly confidential, but it's to my sector's knowledge that there is a malicious party plaguing the city. It's my job to exterminate them, and our intel says that their ranger frequents this bar on Saturday nights— Early twenties, in varying blue suits, and flirts with women."
Her eyes are accusatory and Lucas had to hold back a sigh.
"Goddamn, Max."
"Now how was that for mystifying stranger." She woman burst out in laughter.
"That was not what I meant." Lucas groaned as he shot back the rest of his drink,
"Well of course it wasn't," she shook her head, "you broke character, and now we have to start all over again."
Lucas spun his chair so hard he nearly fell off, "I broke character? What the hell was your character even about? You couldn't pick lifeguard or a princess or a-"
"Relax, stalker." Max rolled her eyes and lazily raised her glass to her lips. "I was keeping it interesting," she stated before taking a sip.
Lucas had borrowed the concept from Mike, who told him years ago about how he and El once pretended to be strangers meeting for the first time. It gave him the idea for their first anniversary date since getting back together.
"Do you hate me?" Lucas slumped forward onto the bar, his cheek squished next to Max's glass, the cool condensation grazing his nose.
"Of course not." Max patted his cheek, "My character however-"
Lucas groaned before she could finish, which prompted more laughter from his girlfriend.
"Come on, stalker." Her eyes twinkled, "give me another chance. I'll be serious this time."
"You'll be serious?" he furrowed his brows, "really?"
"Yes, really." She nodded, and raised Lucas's head from the bar by his chin. He followed until he stood by her seat.
“I'll be very serious. No fantasy elements." Her hand moved from his chin and rested on his chest, before she pushed him away.
"You spend too much time with Will," Lucas grumbled as he walked away from the bar, only to come back a few minutes later.
"Hey, pretty." He plopped back on his old seat, "I haven't seen you around before."
"I just arrived a few days ago," she smiled as bashfully as she could.
"Oh?" Lucas grinned, "to stay?"
"Yes. You see, I got this job over at the Church of our Lady Mary. The priest told me they've been having problems with a goat-"
Lucas closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
#aquadisiacs's fics: little hope#lumax#stranger things#lucas sinclair#max mayfield#max x lucas#lucas x max#lumax au#stranger things au#stranger things fanfiction#lumax fic#lumax fanfiction#lucas and max#maxine mayfield#mad max#erica sinclair#mike wheeler#el hopper#eleven hopper#jane hopper#alcohol#humor#LuMax Fluff#established relationship#Will Byers#aquadisiacs#gal’s writing
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