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thetomorrowshow · 15 days

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seven

empires superpowers au masterlist (not up to date)

this story takes place about a year after the end of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: light eye horror

He’s still new to the whole going-to-work thing. It’s kind of like school, and Jimmy had never liked school, but it’s different in the way that he’s getting paid for his work. And it’s a decent bit more enjoyable than school—he’s learning about cars, getting familiar with the inner workings of machines, and he hasn’t properly had the chance to pop open a hood since he was a teenager and would help his dad with checking the coolant and whatall.

It’s nothing glamorous, but Jimmy really likes his job—more than when he worked as a call service agent, at least. Today he’d learned how to even the weight of a motorcycle, and even though he’d pinched his fingers between the exhaust pipe and the engine, his boss had praised his efforts and let him off early.

Scott usually picks him up from work—they’ve got a second car, but Jimmy doesn’t take his driving test until this weekend so he’s not really meant to be driving himself anywhere—but Scott isn’t free for another hour, so Jimmy meanders around downtown.

He used to live on these streets, so it’s more instinct and less purpose that leads him down to the park across the block from his old apartment building—now closed, he observes, for renovations. The park is lonely at this time of day, two rusting swings hanging silently and a plastic slide gleaming in the sun.

Jimmy stops for a moment, stares at the yellowed grass and bleached plastic playground equipment. He’d never allowed himself to go anywhere near this park, a spot of joy for the kids living in the rundown neighborhood.

He can’t hang here long for risk of being chased off by some bathrobe-clad mother, accusing him of being a predator, so Jimmy turns back to the main part of downtown and heads back in the direction of the mechanic. Maybe Scott’s patrolling in the area, can show off some ice tricks.

There’s a handful of other walkers starting to appear when he makes it back into downtown proper, mostly those returning to work from lunch and high schoolers skipping out of school early. Once upon a time, Jimmy knew how to blend in perfectly with this crowd. Once upon a time, he could never stay in one place for too long.

He slides in among them just as easily as he once might have, moving at the same speed and keeping to the common footpath. He keeps his eyes down and dodges anyone coming from the other direction without issue.

Which is why it’s weird when someone runs right into him.

“Oh, geez—sorry, can I—”

“Well, isn’t it great to see you!”

Jimmy blinks, flinches as the man he’d run into slaps him on the back a couple of times. He . . . he has no clue who this is.

His mind instantly cycles through various brutes from Xornoth’s manor, but this face doesn’t match any of them. This man is a bit stocky, straw-colored hair hanging over his forehead, thin beard a bit darker in color. He’s smiling widely, even as he takes Jimmy by the hand and starts dragging him off.

Jimmy can’t help it—some strange man is pulling him away and he panics—with a snap of adrenaline—

The man jumps back, Jimmy coming with him, as a chair is thrown out of the window of the building beside them, narrowly missing them. He chuckles, taps his nose knowingly.

“You aren’t getting me with that one! Don’t worry, I just want to talk. How about in that deli?”

He doesn’t point anywhere, strangely enough, so Jimmy just glances around until he sees a deli.

All the well-trained alarm systems in Jimmy’s brain are firing, but. . . .

Now that he thinks about it, there is something familiar about this man. Maybe it’s his cadence, or his eyes—

And Jimmy realizes with a start that the man is blind, his eyes clouded over, faded scars stretching across them.

He’s shocked enough that he lets the man lead him into the deli, grab them a table, and order himself a sandwich.

That’s when he notices that the man is not only blind, but has earplugs in.

“I’m sorry,” he finds himself saying loudly as the man tucks into his sandwich, “I think you may have mistaken me with someone else.”

The man winces. “You don’t have to shout, I’m right here,” he says around a mouthful of sandwich. “And no, Tim, I know who you are.”

If that isn’t ominous. And also the wrong name, though it once again scritches at the part of his brain that finds something about this man so oddly familiar. “Jimmy,” he automatically corrects. “Not Tim. And I really ought to get going—”

“Back to Scott?”

Jimmy freezes, halfway out of his seat.

“Because I’m pretty sure he’s patrolling around the East side of the city, y’know. Unless you want to call Lizzie. Pretty sure she’s not busy at the minute.”

The man takes another bite out of his sandwich, scratches his beard.

Jimmy’s stomach goes cold. How did he—how can—it’s—

“See Tim, there’s not a lot that I don’t hear about,” the man continues. “However, there is something that I need to know, if you wouldn’t mind answering.”

He needs to get away. Fight or flight has fully kicked in, and Jimmy needs to run. Jimmy raises his hand, ready to do—something, shatter his chair or collapse the table or hurt him in some way—but the man only tsks.

“Come on then, none of that. The three of us have got to stick together, really. Wouldn’t be good to start fighting, especially with the way Nine acts.”

Slowly, Jimmy sits back down. It’s not because he’s intimidated, he tells himself. His fingers twitch. He could kill this man in an instant, and no one would ever know.

The man puts down his sandwich in its wrapper and leans in, head tilted a bit to the side. “So,” he says lowly, “did you kill them?”

Jimmy knows, instinctively, that he means Xornoth.

And it’s not intimidation that makes Jimmy answer. It’s some strange feeling that he knows this man, and cares about him. Something familiar in the line of his nose and the color of his hair.

“Yeah,” says Jimmy in the same low tone. “Yeah, I did.”

The man sits back, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Good. I figured you did, y’know, but I was sleeping when it happened. You could’ve pulled a runner, y’know? Could’ve been someone else to get them. That wouldn’t have been right, though. It had to be one of their . . . erm, what did they start calling them? Subjects?”

Jimmy swallows, then mutters an answer in the affirmative. He keeps having to remind himself that he doesn’t know this man, as familiar as he is. How does he know so much?

“Right. Back in my day, we were ‘participants’. What a joke.” The man shakes his head, then takes another bite of his sandwich. “Well, thanks for the info. I won’t tell anyone, promise—well, I’ll tell Nine, but Nine isn’t much of a talker, so it won’t get out or anything.”

“Right,” Jimmy manages. He checks his phone; Scott should be coming to pick him up soon. He casts his eyes about, trying to think of anything to say to the strange man with white scars and earplugs.

“What happened to your eyes?” he asks eventually. The man smiles ruefully, one hand going up to trace over the scars. They aren’t precise in any way, some smaller ones littered around the corners, long ones down the middle. If Jimmy looks closely, he can even see the places the irises are entirely missing along with the scar, leaving the man with cloudy white streaks through his eyes.

“Let’s just say—next time those scientists of theirs have you on the table, make sure and ask ‘em to strap down your hands,” the man says. “Not that that should ever happen to you again, but you never know, y’know?”

Well.

Jimmy feels slightly ill, staring at those scars. Most of his aren’t self-inflicted, nor nearly as visible as those. Sure, he has one across his cheek, and a small one above his eyebrow, but they don’t usually attract much attention. Scott even thinks they make him look rather dashing. He can only imagine the stares and questions this man gets on a daily basis.

The stranger finishes his sandwich, wiping his fingers off with the wrapper. He stands, tips an imaginary hat toward Jimmy.

“Well, I’ll be off. The city’s a bit loud, don’t you think? Oh, and thanks for footing the bill.”

And then he’s gone, and Jimmy sits there in stunned silence until he shakes himself, heads up to the counter, and pays.

He tries to forget about the man. As weeks pass, he moves on, his days taken up by work and Scott and his friends. And he mostly does forget about the familiar stranger, too busy to spare the mental energy needed to try and figure out who he was.

That is, until one night, nearly a month later.

Lizzie had managed to get a hold of their high school’s yearbook from when she was a senior and Jimmy a sophomore, and together with Scott and Joel they paged through it, laughing at Lizzie’s galaxy-themed outfit and Jimmy’s unbrushed hair.

They stop on the page of the soccer team, and Jimmy knows from the coos and laughs that they’re looking at him and his ridiculous hair, but his eyes are caught on a familiar face.

“Who’s that?” he finds himself saying, pointing to the boy beside him, the boy who has his arm slung around his shoulders, the boy who—in one small picture off to the side, is knuckling Jimmy’s head.

And then he remembers.

He pages through the yearbook until he finds him.

A senior that year. One of his friends, and one of the only people who tried to still hang out with him after his powers got out of hand.

He’d almost completely forgotten about Martyn.

Martyn, the dude with the new Playstation. He’d been powered—not strongly, but with some fairly average super hearing and far vision.

Jimmy thinks back to the man he’d met, blinded by his own hands, hearing so intense that he has to wear earplugs at all times.

And then he wonders, dreading the unknown answer, what kind of mistakes had been made with the experiments before his own—and who on earth Nine might be.

#empires smp #empires smp fanfic #empires superpowers au #esh au #jimmy solidarity #scott smajor #flower husbands #martyn inthelittlewood #mas writes #051424 #finally. he's here #after all the fighting he did to get here #when i explicitly told him no #martyn: that sign can't stop me bc i can't read! im blind!#the number seven really just suits this man huh #somebody guessed that martyn would have been one of the subjects lol #you were correct! congrats!#lmk what you guys think #love you guys

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ohtobeleah · 9 months

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Bruises // Jake Seresin

Chapter Five: [Emerald City:]

Summary: You’re forced against your will by three insurgents all the while Jake helplessly watches on. In return? He’s given a gift made only for the broken hearted.

Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Chapter Warning: ⚠️ This Chapter contains sexual explicit content that may be distressing to some. Reader discretion is advised for the topic of sexual abuse/ non-consensual sexual assault. ⚠️

Word Count: 4.8k

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

When you get sick it starts out with a single bacterium. One lone, nasty intruder. Pretty soon, the intruder duplicates…it becomes two. Then those two become four, and those four become eights. Then, before your body even knows it:

It’s under attack.

It’s an invasion, the question for an aviator who was now classified a prisoner of war is, once the invaders have landed, once they’ve taken over your body, how the hell do you get rid of them. And just how the hell do you get out?

“Do I not get my flight suit back?” You asked Nathan as he escorted you back down to the basement. “You can’t expect me to stay in this dress forever.”

“Trust me, you won’t.” Was all the blonde haired blue eyed man replied as he stood guarding you at the back of the elevator. “The Commander has given us very clear instructions.”

You did what you had done on your way up, counted the descending numbers as they dropped. Seven, six, five, four. The more they dropped towards the basement you felt your heart sink lower and lower. Hope was getting harder to hang onto the longer you were here, the longer time became just another one of society's artificial constructs.

“Do you know how long we’ve been here for?” You asked as Nathan, the insurgent with the scar, led you out of the elevator down the corridor towards where you and Jake were being kept. “Do you know how long The Commander plans on keeping us alive?” They were questions he had no intention of asking as he held your arm and guided you down the hall.

But when you saw what had happened to Jake while you were gone none of those questions seemed to matter anymore, you didn’t care about the answers or how long you had been held captive. All you cared about was Jake.

“JAKE!” You raced into the cell past insurgents that stood idly by. They all had bloody knuckles and smirks that could have given the Cheshire car a run for his money. They’d beaten him within an inch of his life as he hung there with his arms around his head. “Oh my god oh my god—“

“Holy shit.” Jake murmured as your hands cupped at his bloodied and bruised cheeks. All he could do was hang his head low, too weak to hold his head up on his own. “I must be dead.” He tried to smile, you could see the blood staining his teeth as he did so and it made your stomach churn. “You look like an angel.”

“What did they do to you huh?” You asked softly as you held Jake's head in your hands. “Jake? You with me? I’m here, I’m right here.” It was the simplest of reminders but it had worked for you so far. Perhaps knowing you were right in front of him would give Jake a little more strength.

“Hi.” Was all Jake managed to reply before his head was heavy in your hands, he couldn’t fight any longer so he used your hands as support. “Hey Hotshot.”

“Hey big guy.” You tried to fight off your own tears as you really took a moment to assess the damage that had been done. Cuts and bruises littered Jake's face. Blood dripped from his ears, nose and mouth. His hair was covered in sweat and blood. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

“I’m okay.” But the worst of it all was the way his flight suit was torn to shreds, leaving Jake in his boxer briefs and undershirt. “You’re so pretty.” It shouldn’t have but it made your heart flutter as you placed your forehead against Jakes gently. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Nathan, the main insurgent you had come to the conclusion of, interrupted as you spun around to put your body between him and Jake. With your hands not on his cheeks anymore Jake's head fell forward to rest against your shoulder. “We haven’t finished with you two yet.”

“He’s clearly had enough!” You hissed as you stepped forward to puff your chest. “What do you expect to get out of him now when he can’t even formulate a goddamn sentence!!” Without thinking, without hesitation, you shoved at the blonde haired blue eyed man’s chest. “He’s not going to give you what you want if he can’t talk!”

“Okay enough—hold her.” Nathan ordered two of the insurgents to keep you still. They did. They held your arms behind your back and kept you from squirming. “We know exactly what will make your friend here talk.”

“Don’t. Touch. Her.” Three words that made your heart ache. Jake was barely conscious but he still had to do whatever he could to protect you.

“Lieutenant Seresin, my men have been down here for the better half of two hours trying to retrieve vital information that could help us.” Nathan explained as he stalked around the cell. His hands worked at his belt, unbuckling it slowly before he looped it off his waist. “This will be your final opportunity to give us the information we’ve been asking you to provide before we take drastic measures.”

“Go. To. Hell.” Jake spat as he held his head up. He was using all the strength he had to look at you. He thought for sure he was in for it, that they were going to beat him up some more in front of you. But Jake could take that, he could take anything they threw his way. “I’m not telling you fuckers shit, you wanna smack me around some more so fucking be it.”

“Fair enough.” Nathan sighed dramatically as he hung his head low in fake disbelief. He’d been waiting for this. “Take her clothes off.”

“Wait—“ You gasped as you felt the hands of the men who had been holding you still begun to unzip your dress. “No no no no wait, stop!” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what was happening. “Stop! No please—!” Jake took a few seconds to catch up to what was happening, you couldn’t blame him though, he was barely conscious as it was.

“This is on you Lieutenant Seresin.” Nathan turned Jake’s head in the direction of where you were being assaulted. “You could have prevented this, if you’d have just told us who gave you these orders.”

“Wait wait wait! Don’t touch her!” Jake begged as the realisation set in. “No no no no, please, anything but this, please.”

“STOOPP—!” You screamed as your dress fell down around your ankles, leaving you far too exposed. “Please, I'm begging you!” It all felt like it was happening in slow motion. Calloused hands crept their way across the expanse of your body, lips were on your neck leaving marks that would linger for days. “Jake! Please! Help me!”

“I’ll tell you!” Jake backtracked as he watched one of the insurgents unbuckle his belt. “I’ll tell you anything, just don’t hurt her!” Next was the zipper as you tried to kick and scream your way out of the tortuous hold. “Don’t do this, leave her alone, I’m begging you, you don’t have to do this.”

“Too late now Lieutenant.” Nathan chuckled as he took a piece of cloth from out of his back pocket and gagged Jake with it so he couldn’t speak. He tied it at the back of his neck so there was no chance in hell it could come loose. “You’re gonna stand right here and enjoy the consequences of your actions.” Your screams of terror broke Jake's heart as he mumbled around the gag. There was nothing he could do as you were forced against your will. “I’m gonna go fuck your little girlfriend now, hopefully after she’ll be a fountain of knowledge and we won’t have to do this again.” It was a threat Jake now knew wasn’t empty. “But then again I hope I get to do this every fucking day.”

“NOO!! STOP!” Your cries were more painful than anything Jake had ever endured. He strained and struggled against the chains and rope that held him in place as he cried with you, for you. “JAKE!!” It felt like you were all alone when you couldn’t hear Jake's voice.

“Let’s give your boyfriend a show huh princess?” Nathan smirked as the two other guards held you in place up against the concrete wall while he stood between your legs, jerking himself off. “I’m gonna enjoy this, oh so much.”

“Close your eyes!” You begged Jake over the shoulder of the man who was about to force himself on you. “Don’t you dare watch.” You pleaded for Jake to listen. “Please.”

So he didn’t. He didn’t watch. He lowered his head and cried as hard as he could as your screams echoed off the walls and ricocheted against him. It was torture, pure torture. Jake had never heard anything like it before and he wouldn’t wish that kind of experience on his worst enemy.

“AAAHHHHH!!” It felt like it lasted a lifetime. “STOPPP!” The pain, the fear, the degradation. “IT HURTS!” Nothing you said and nothing you did could stop the three men who were on you like a bad rash from their assault on your body. “STTOOPP PLEASE!” Your cries for help were the most painful things to listen to as Jake tried whatever he could to free himself. The rusted cuffs dug further and further into his wrist the more he struggled though.

You didn’t think it could get any worse, you thought that it was over when the blonde haired blue eyed man came with an evil grin that made you believe the devil himself was scared of these men: But then he said one word that made you want to die.

“Switch.” Jake's eyes went wide at the thought of it. No. No this couldn’t be happening. They were all going to have their way with you. “Get her on the ground.”

“NOOOO!” You cried out as loud as you could, so loud you thought you were going to lose your voice. “DON'T! DONT FUCKING—“ Before you had a chance to finish your sentence, a single fist belted itself against your mouth. The force alone rendered you speechless before that same hand was squishing your cheeks together as blood pouring out your nose.

“Just fucking take it, because we’re not gonna stop not matter how much you fucking scream.”

When the next hit came you felt your body growing weaker as Hake muffled screams became the only thing that you could focus on. He was there, he was still alive, he was still breathing.

What do you do when the infection hits you, when it takes over? Do you do what you’re supposed to do and take your medicine? Or do you learn to live with the thing and hope someday it goes away?

Or do you just give up entirely and let it kill you?

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

It had been relentless and felt neverending, but eventually, after the three men were finished having their way with you, you were left naked and curled up into yourself on the dirt of the cell floor.

Jake stood still tied up with his arms above his head and a gag in his mouth, unsure if you were alive or not. It had been brutal. You'd asked him not to watch but every now and then he’d look up to see you taking another beating, another man, another position.

Time had become an artificial construct in the dimly lit cell the two of you were in. Jake wasn't sure how long it had been since the insurgents left and locked the door behind them to when a woman was stepping in with a pile of folded clothes and medical supplies. He’d never seen her before, but he could very much recognise the man standing behind her in the hallway. The Commander himself.

“I'm going to leave theses here and I'm going to untie you, if you try anything, The Commander will kill me.” She explained as she placed the clothes she had brought in for you on the ground beside Jake. he watched her every move as rage bubbled over in his system. The first thing the woman with red hair and brown eyes did was take the fabric from out of Jake's mouth, he spat blood to the side as she did so.

“It's a good thing for you that I don't stoop as low as to hurt innocent women!!” Was all he said all the while eyeing off The Commander who stood a great enough distance so that even if Jake were to lunge his way, he could walk away. “Who are you?”

“I'm just an innocent woman, Lieutenant.” She did what she had promised she would do as let Jake go from his restraints. His arms ached as they finally came down from being up over his head for so long. His legs crumbled as he tried to support his own body weight. He’d been beaten pretty bad, so bad he really did think for a minute there he was surely going to die. “I urge you to cooperate.” The lady with red hair and brown eyes spoke as she stood over Jake. “The Commander isn't a forging man.”

“Trust me, neither am I.” Again it was directed at The Commander who stood just outside the cell. “I'll gut you from the inside out if anyone comes near hurt again, do you hear me you son of a bitch?” Jake snarled as he rose to his knees, bloodied and bruised beyond belief. It took every ounce of strength he had left to front a brave face. “Anyone so much as looks at her the wrong way, i'm coming for you.”

“We’ll see.” Was all The Commander said before he walked away out of Jake's line of sight. The woman in front of him took his hand and left a small piece of crumpled up paper and left it in Jake's hand. She gave him an all knowing look before she turned on her heels and made her way out of the cell.

“For what it's worth, Hangman, I sincerely apologise for what happened to your friend.” was the last thing she said before she locked the cell behind her and vanished from sight. Jake immediately opened the piece of paper she had left in his hand. Much to his own disbelief he couldn't believe what he was reading.

“Hold tight, Stay alive – Rooster.”

Jake was in so much shock that he almost forgot where he was, what had just happened and who was with him. But the minute he heard you whimper in the corner of the cell, he was making his way over to you.

“Y/n?” It couldn't have been softer if Jake tried. “Y/n, I'm coming closer alright, it's just me.” All you did was whimper out a few struggled sobs. Jake's heart couldn't have broken any more than it already was for you. “I'm not gonna hurt you.” He made sure to remind you as he crawled closer and closer to where you were curled up. “It's just me, Jake, I'm not going to hurt you.” The more Jake said it the more he hoped you were listening, because soon enough he was right by your side. “I'm gonna touch you now, gently, and I'm gonna hold you alright?” As Jake let his hand softly graze against your shoulder, you screamed as loud as you could. It was enough to have Jake jumping back to give you a little more space.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!”

“Y/n it's just me.”

“GET AWAY FROM ME! LET GO OF ME!!”

“Y/n, hey hey hey hey it’s me—it's just me, I’m right here.” Jake reminded you as your eyes met his. He showed you both his hands before he reached for yours. “It's just me, I'm here, you're okay, I've got you.” The look on your face told Jake everything he needed to know, you were completely and utterly broken. For you? That had been your breaking point.

“Oh.” Was all you said before you were collapsing into Jake's embrace and crying into his chest. “Ow.” Everything hurt, everything ached, everything was numb.

“I'm so so so sorry Y/n.” Jake sobbed with you as the two of you sat curled up in the corner of the cell. “You didn't deserve that, I should've just told them what they wanted to hear.”

“If you make it out of here–” You mumbled into the fabric of Jake's black T-shirt as he held you tight to his chest. “Please don't tell my dad what they did to me.” You asked through wet lashes as you looked up to where Jake was looking down at you. “It would break his heart.” Jake didn't want to think about it but he knew your mind was already going there. There was a chance here that the two of you might not make it home. But the note Jake had just received gave him just a glimmer of hope to keep fighting, keep hope in his heart, and to protect you till his dying breath.

“How about we get you some clothes?” You didn't acknowledge Jake as he rubbed the pad of his thumb softly against your cheek, catching the tears that fell freely and mixed together with the blood you shed. “You with me Hollywood.” Your eyes were glazed over, sure you were looking at Jake but it felt like you were looking right through him as your mind went somewhere else. “Sweetheart, look at me?” Jake asked you softly, only then did you come back to him. “There she is, there's my girl.”

“I need you to kill me before they get a chance to do that to me again.” You whimpered as your bottom lip quivers and your hand went to cover Jakes as he touched your cheek. “Don't let them do that to me again, please Jake, please.” Jake thought his heart couldn't break any more, but then you asked him to kill you:

And he knew he’d die with you.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

In the days that followed you didn't speak all that much. You attended to Jake's wounds and cleaned him up the best you could with the small amount of saline you’d been given, but other than that? You barely spoke. Jake knew it was a trauma response, but he missed your voice.

Jake had cleaned out the cuts on your cheeks from the rings on your abusers fingers as best he could, but he knew just by the looks of how deep they were that by the time they healed? They’d leave nasty scars behind. Forever branding you a sexual assault survivor.

“I miss my bed.” You mumbled quietly as Jake held you close. The two of you were just lying there near the back wall, as far away as you could be from the cell door. He sandwiched you between the wall and his chest while he drew unidentifiable objects into your hip just to let you know he was there.

“I miss Penny's pumpkin pie.” Jake replied, he wasn't about to urge you to keep talking, but whenever you felt like it, he’d reply. “And i'll deny it if you ever tell him but I even miss the sound of Rooster playing that damn piano.” Jake couldn't see it, but he knew a smile had crept its way across your face for the first time in a few days.

“How long do you reckon we’ve been here?” Jake had been wondering that very same question, it was hard to keep track. There was no way to track the sun or to know if it was night out. There was no fresh air to tell the temperature or a clock to watch time tick past.

“Few weeks maybe? Could be a few days still till we see anyone.” That's usually what happened. The insurgents would come, they’d rough one of you or the both of you up for information neither you or Jake were willing to give, and then they’d vanish, leaving you to put each other back together just to break you again and again and again. “Everytime I get close to breaking, I just think of Hewens.” Jake reminded you. “She gave them what they wanted and she still ended up dead.”

“Do you really think that note was from Rooster?” You asked all the while you turned around to face Jake. Both lying on your sides respectively. You watched as he nodded.

“Hold tight, Stay alive.” Jake repeated to you as he kissed your forehead. “That was something our Fitness Instructor at Acam used to say whenever someone was bitching about the session.” It gave the both of you just a little hope to cling to. “They know we’re here, that woman, she’s on our team, we just have to stay alive long enough for them to get us out.”

“Seresin–” It sounded like a guard, Jake closed his eyes at the thought of being taken away from you. He felt your hands grip his shirt at the idea. “The Commander wants to see you, upstairs.”

“No thanks, I'm good where I am.” Jake replied without so much as turning to face the man who stood at the cell door. Jake could see the tears beginning to well in your eyes at the idea of being separated again, the last time they did that he was beaten to a pulp and you were wined, dined and taken against your will. “Shhh don't you ever spend a second worrying about me, we’re okay.”

“I'm not gonna ask you again, get up.” You could hear the awful sound of that taser you hated so much. The buzzing sound caused you to flinch in Jake's arms as you buried your head. He just wanted to protect you at all costs. Now more than ever before.

“Y/n, i'll be right back.” It was the hardest of goodbyes so far, knowing that whatever was to come could only be as bad as what you'd just endured a few days prior. These guys were really upping the anti trying to get whatever information they could out of the pair of you. “Listen to me for a minute?” Jake was as gentle as he could be as his fingertips grazed your chin, tilting it up so that you were looking right into his soul through his emerald green eyes. “One of the reasons I didn't talk to you an awful lot before this mission was because you were the first woman I'd met in years that made me think about what my life outside my career looked like.” Your eyes don't sparkle the same way they did the first time Jake met you. They were clouded with misery, with fear, with uncertainty that you'd ever get out of this hell. “I thought if I got to know you, in any aspect, I'd fall in love with you.” It was an admission Jake wished he never had to have voiced in this environment. But you needed something, anything to keep you going, and he wasn't lying, not about any of it. “And here I am anyway–” Jake took a second to admire the way the corner of your lips curled up into the corners of your cheeks, you really needed to hear this. “Head over heels in love with you.”

“You better not just be saying that to get me to not give up Seresin.” You choked out a small chuckle as Jake brought your forehead to his lips. “Because I'll be pissed if you give me the cold shoulder when we get back.”

“When we get back it's just gonna be you and me Hollywood.” Jake had to go, he had to leave you in the cell that had become your home for whatever amount of time had passed you by. “Don't go having too much fun without me.”

“Promise you’ll come back to me?” You nearly begged as you watched Jake get up off the ground. He wouldn't admit it to you but he wasn't doing all that well physically. His body was littered in bruises that looked more painful with every passing day. The cuts that peppered his body looked angry and agitated even if you'd cleaned them out. He’d been beaten and beaten hard, there was only so much a person could take before that took a toll.

But still, he was your rock through all of it. He was your Jake, your guiding light. Your only hope.

“Without a shadow of a doubt, I promise, I'm coming back to you.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

The last thing Jake could remember before he was waking up strapped to a metal table with a patch over his chest was walking down the corridor away from the cell he’d been in with you. He couldn't remember being stuck with a needle in the back of his neck as he entered the elevator. He couldn't remember falling into a heap on the floor of that very elevator and he definitely didn't remember being carted in for surgery of any kind.

“Jake.” The Commander smiled when he saw Jake was awake. “Good to see you my man.” He beamed as he clapped his hands together. “How are you feeling?”

“What the hell did you do to me?” Nothing made sense, how long had Jake been gone for? How long had you been left alone in the silence of that dingy cell for? He told you he was going to come back, hopefully, you still believed that. Hopefully, Jake could keep his promise. “Answer me right now you son of a bitch!” Jake spat as he tried to move, his chest hurt though, something pulled under his skin and he winced.

The Commander didn't reply as he walked out of Jake's line of sight for a minute or two, only to come back with a cage with a white rabbit in it. He shook it violently, aggressively, enough for the rabbit to lose its footing and stubble all over the handheld cage. Jake watched in utter confusion until the Rabbit fell and the Commander stopped shaking the cage.

“Do you know what a pacemaker is?” The Commander asked as he placed the cage back down on the table off to the side. The Rabbit inside it now laid dead.

“What?” Jake growled as he strained against the restraint that kept him down against the medical table.

“They stick them in the tickers of people who've had bypass work, whose hearts need just a little jump, a kick start.” Jake knew what a pacemaker was, his pop had one put in when he was about twenty two. Still The Commander went on explaining like he was some kind of idiot. “That rabbit had a pacemaker set to deliver a kick start should it get too excited, or anxious, or frightened.” Why was he telling Jake all of this? “Or should it try to escape.” Ah, there it was. “Assuming that you were telling the truth about your age and weight in your last physical, your resting heart rate should be about seventy beats per minute.” Jake knew The Commander had been able to pull your files, and as it turned out Jake had told the truth in his last physical. Now he was kinda thanking his past self for not showboating to the nurse. “Your active heart rate however, that would be about one hundred and forty, which is the point at which your pacemaker will cause your heart to explode.”

“You put a pacemaker inside me!” Jake stirred as he tried to sit up, a small beeping that increased in sound and speed could be heard as The Commander stepped closer to wrap a watch around Jake's wrist.

“The watch monitors your pulse, if you get within fifteen beats of your danger zone it'll start to beep, if and when it beeps you're gonna wanna relax yourself.” This wasn't good, this really wasn't good. “Do some deep breathing, some yoga.” The Commander smirked as he tapped Jake cheek twice. “You've got the time.”

“If you want me dead why don't you just shoot me and get it over with?” Jake asked as he let his head rest against the metal table as he looked up at the fluorescent lights above. It was the same room one the insurgents had shot you in. The one with the white walls and the white floors that smelled like a sterile doctors office.

“Because we’re not cold blooded killers Jacob, we give fair chances.” This really was hell on earth. “And another thing, Miss Y/l/n–”

“You touch her again and I swear to god–” Jake paused when he heard the beeping from the watch, his heart rate was increasing. Fuck.

“You tell her what we did, what we put in you, and we’ll put one in her too–” The Commander threatened as he fixed up his jacket.

“And I can assure you her heart rate won't stay nearly low enough the next time my men wanna have a go.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

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angelyuji · 10 months

Text

skirts and promises

707 x reader (most (if not all) dialouge from day 9 phone call) reader wear a skirt but no gendered pronouns

hope you guys enjoy! i know not many of you follow me for mystic messenger stuff but it's summer so im back on the grind :)) no warnings! maybe a little suggestive so yk.... anyways, i'm a 707 girlie till i die thats literally my man i need him so bad it physically hurts me like omg thats my FREAKING MANNNN.... have fun reading!

you glance at seven sitting next to you on the couch, typing at lightening speed on his laptop. you quietly pull out your phone, pretending to look through the chatrooms before dialing his number on the RFA app.

“hello?” seven laughs next to you and you pout at the phone.

“why are you laughing?” you look over at him suspiciously.

“i noticed you glancing at me while pressing on the phone, so i wondered if you were trying to call me. and you really did! why are you so cute? i even love how predictable you are.” you blush at seven’s words. you jump up and run into the kitchen, giggling to yourself. “hmm? why are you running into the kitchen? i can’t see you now!” seven whines as you press yourself against the fridge and slide down to the floor.

“it feels like we’re actually talking on the phone if we can’t see each other!” you speak into the phone, smiling to yourself.

“what?” you peek your head around the corner and watch as seven tilts his head in confusion. “huh…you’re right…then i want to hide too! where should i go?” seven stands up, phone pressed to his ear. “i want to go into the kitchen too!”

“no, no! then there wouldn’t be any point in me hiding!” you whine, and you watch as seven throws his head back and laughs. he plops back onto the couch, arms spread out on the top of the couch. you bite your lip and watch as he relaxes into the couch.

seven sighs, “…i miss you when you disappear from my sight. i want to be right beside you… always.” a warm silence fills the apartment. you feel your heart beat faster. you turn your head back to face the cabinets across from you.

“i… i feel the same.” you whisper, afraid to disturb the feeling in the air.

seven’s voice quiets as he talks into the phone, “you know, it’s good to laugh. i mean, if we can manage to laugh in this situation, what other miracle can we hope for?” you hum, letting him continue. “i think this is what suits us. that no matter what happens, we can look at each other and laugh.” he stops talking and you wait. “promise me… promise me that from now on, we’ll look at each other, smile, and get through whatever comes.”

“i promise.” you smile.

seven stands up and walks towards the kitchen, stopping at the entry. “and if we get tired in the process… our robot can help us laugh.”

“i want to make you smile too.” you giggle, clutching the phone to your chest.

“then poke your head out!” you peek your head out, seven grabs your legs, and pulls. you scream and he cackles as you lay flat on the floor. he sits on his knees, clutching his sides. you raise yourself up onto your elbows and smile. “why are you smiling? you just looked into my eyes!”

“i don’t know, i guess i just like you a lot.” you lay back down, covering your face as you feel a blush creep back up your face.

seven laughs, pulling you closer. “do you like me that much?” he whispers and holds himself over you. one hand cups your face, “don’t pout, i like you too.” he moves back to his knees with a huff. “god, i like you so much… i want to tease you, i want to watch your cute little face.”

you sit up and hit his arm, feeling your face burn. “you’re so annoying.”

seven laughs harder, “i’m so happy we can manage to play in such a small apartment.”

“interesting you say that when you didn’t even want to be near me earlier.” you huff and cross your arms.

seven grabs your hand, “ahh, just forget about that now. what’s important is the present, and the future we’ll create… together.” you smile, crossing your fingers together. “oh, but there’s a problem right now.”

“huh? what problem?” your eyes widen in panic.

“you do realize that you’re pretty defenseless, right?” seven lets go of your hand to cup your face once more. “i’m not just a guy that types away at a laptop. i’m really, really trying hard to hold back right now.” his thumb brushes against your lips and you hold your breath. you watch as his eyes drift to your lips. his face gets close and you close your eyes. you feel as if time stops, but he pauses, you can feel his breath on your lips. all of a sudden, you hear a loud laugh, you open your eyes and seven’s on the floor once more.

you move closer to him and whack his arm, “you are such a jerk, seven.”

you flop back onto the floor, annoyance turning to laughter. seven sits back onto the floor, crisscross. “ahh, don’t worry, (y/n). i’m super good at holding it in. speaking of, can’t you- can’t you pull down your skirt a little. i think- i think it kind of crawled up when you were laughing.” his eyes drift to your thighs. you look down and notice that your skirt had ridden up, exposing more of your thighs.

you smile, innocently, “what if i don’t want to? what if i don’t want to listen to you?” you use a finger to slowly pull your skirt up higher. seven’s hands clasp yours, stopping you from going further.

his eyes were wide and you tilt your head, noticing how wide his pupils are. “you don’t want to? please… i feel like my nose is gonna start bleeding if you keep going like this… i’m sure of it.” you pull one side of your sweater down below your shoulder, smiling slightly. seven’s breathing gets heavy. “god… i don’t think- i can’t-” seven shoots up, surprising you. “i need to go work out a bit. i just want to work out of my body too, not just my brain all the time.” you get up with him. “maybe- maybe a cold shower too…” he mumbles, brushing his hand through his hair.

“wait- seven-” you grab his arm.

he looks back at you with a weird expression. “and uh… please be careful of your skirt. i’m sorry.” you bite your lip and pout.

“fine… i guess i should hang up then and help you.” you grab your phone and seven grabs your hand, pulling you closer to him.

“huh? help me? wait- why- why are you trying to hang up? not yet!”

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layce2015 · 1 year

Text

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Provenance

Masterlist

*3rd Person POV*

Dean was chatting up with a young woman the bar but he was only paying her half of the attention. Most of the time that he was talking to this lady, he would look up and see from across the place (y/n) talking to this tall, tan-skinned dark-haired man in a three piece suit.

The man smiled at (y/n) then the two laughed at whatever she said, this made Dean alittle angry as he felt boiling feeling in his chest. But he turned his attention back to the woman as they continued to talk until, eventually, she started to give him her number.

"Seven, Four, Two Zero." She said after Dean types it in his phone. "Seven, Four, Two, Zero. All right, you're in there. Perfect. So is that Brandy with a 'y' or an 'i'?" He asked her and he just happened to glance over to see (y/n) and the man walk closer to each other. The man's eyes roam over (y/n) before he nods over his shoulder and (y/n) nodded, a coy smile playing on her lips.

Sam, meanwhile, sits at a table strewn with papers as he looks through them. He gestures to Dean, who looks at him then gives him a 'wait' gesture as he laughs at something the woman whispers. Sam gestures again and Dean's smile drops. "All right, listen, I gotta go. Hold that thought, I'll be right back, okay?" He said and he looks around but lost sight of (y/n) and three piece suit guy.

Angry, he approaches Sam, as he carrys two beers. "All right, I think we got something." Sam said. "Oh yeah, me too. I think we need to take a little short leave, just a little bit. What do you think, huh? I'm so in the door with this one." Dean said, faking a smile, as he gestures towards the women.

"So what are we today Dean? I mean, are we rock stars, are we army rangers?" Sam asked him. "Reality TV scouts, looking for people with special skills. I mean hey, it's not that far off right? By the way, she's got a friend over there. Possibly hook you up. What do you think?" Dean asked, grinning. "Dean, no thanks, I can get my own dates." Sam said.

"Yeah, you can but you don't." Dean said and Sam looks up at him. "What is that supposed to mean?" Sam said and Dean clenches his jaw. "Nothing." Dean said and Sam looks around. "Where's (y/n)?" He asked. "Probably getting to know that three piece douche a little more." Dean grumbles and Sam looks up at his brother and raises an eyebrow

"Dean, you really need to figure this out." Sam said and Dean looks back at him. "Figure what out?" Dean asked and Sam scoffs in disbelief. "Nevermind." Sam mutters.

"Anyway....What you got?" Dean asked him, changing the subject. "Mark and Ann Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their own home, a few days ago. Throats were slit. There were no prints, no murder weapons, all..." he said then he looks up and sees Dean looking around the bar before he looks back at the women at the bar.

"Dean!" Sam shouts and Dean looks back at him. "No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and window locked from the inside." Sam said as Dean drinks his beer. "Could just be a garden variety murder you know, not our department." Dean said. "No. Dad says different." Sam said.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked and Sam points at the map. "Dad noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. First one here in 1912, second one right here in 1945, and the third in 1970, the same M.O. as the Telescas. Their throats were slit, doors were locked from the inside. Now so much time had passed between murders that nobody checked the pattern, except Dad. He kept his eyes peeled for another one." Sam said.

"And now we got one. All right, I'm with ya. It's worth checking out. We can't pick this up til first thing though right?" Dean asked. "Yeah." Sam said as Dean looks up and then his face becomes serious. Sam gives him a confused look before he turns around to see (y/n) and the man coming out of the bathroom.

The man was straightening his tie and jacket while (y/n) was straightening out her shirt and fixing her hair. The two talked and the man smiled as he hands her a folded piece of paper and winks at her. (Y/n) smiles as she takes the paper and the guy leans in and gives her a passionate kiss.

"Good." Dean grumbles as he turns around. "Dean..." Sam said as Dean goes up to the women and talks with them. Sam sniggers and shakes his head at this, he loves these two with all of his heart but he couldn't believe how stupid these two were acting about their feelings to one another. He didn't understand how he could see it but Dean and (y/n) couldn't. Or maybe they could but they are just too stubborn to say anything.

He scoffs and takes a swig of his beer as Dean walks away with the two girls.

*(y/n)'s POV*

The next morning, Sam and I come up to the Impala and see Dean sleeping, slouched in the passenger seat and with sunglasses on. Sam and I walk around the car then I lean in and honk the horn. Dean jumps a foot in the air as Sam sits in the drivers seat and I get in the back seat, both of us laughing.

"Man, that is so not cool." Dean grumbles as he adjusted his sunglasses. "We just swept the Telescas with EMF. It's clean. And last night, while you were....well...out..." Sam said as he looks over at Dean, who smirks. "Good times." He said and I shake my head.

"We checked the history of the house. Nothing strange about the Telescas." I said. "All right, so if it's not the people and it's not the house, then maybe it's the contents. Cursed object or something." Dean said. "The house is clean." Sam said. "Yeah I know, you said that." Dean said. "No, he means it's empty. No furniture, nothing." I said and Dean looks at us, confused.

"Where's all their stuff?" He asked us.

We parked at a art auction, which was held in this very large and nice house, and began to wander around. The three of us looking really out of place in our casual, rough clothing. "Consignment auctions, estate sales. Looks like a garage sale for Wasps if you ask me." Dean said after he takes some finger food from a tray on a table

"Can I help you gentlemen and lady?" A man asked us. Dean looks him up and down and then puts more food in his mouth. "I'd like some champagne please." He said, putting on a posh voice. "He's not a waiter." Sam said to him, sharply, as I pinch the bridge of my nose and shake my head.

"I'm Sam Connors." Sam said as he holds his hand out to the man, who just looks at him. Sam moves the hand he's holding out then points at me and Dean. "That's my brother Dean and our work partner, (y/n). We're art dealers, with Connors Limited." Sam said.

"You. Are...art dealers." The man said, disbelieving. "That's right." Sam said as I nod at him. "I'm Daniel Blake, this is my auction house. Now gentlemen and lady this is a private showing, and I don't remember seeing you on the guest list." Mr Blake sneers at us. "We're there chuckles, you just need to take another look." Dean said just as a waiter goes past with drinks on a tray.

"Oh. Finally." Dean said, swiping a drink from the tray. He turns back to Mr Blake, sniffs the glass, raises his eyebrows then turns and walks away. Sam and I hastily follow, shooting Dean dirty looks. "Cheers." I said to Mr Black before we walk off.

We check out the items for auction but then we become drawn to the painting of a family, which was kinda creepy looking. It was a family of five, two boys, one girl and the mother and father. The father seemed to be looking down at the girl and all of them had no smile on their faces, they all seemed pretty grim and dull....and creepy, did I mention that?

"I fine example of American Primitive wouldn't you say?" A woman's voice asked the boys and I turn to see a sleek, classy, extremely good looking young woman in a black dress coming down a spiral staircase. We stare at her as she turns her back while taking the final part of the stairs. Sam turns back to look at the painting again and Dean, oogling, slaps Sam on the back and continues staring while I just look down at myself feeling even more underdressed.

"Well I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses. But you knew that, you just wanted to see if I did." Sam said to the woman as she walks up to us. "Guilty. And clumsy. I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake." She introduced. "I'm Sam. This is my....brother, Dean. And my friend, (y/n)." Sam said while Dean continues to stuff his face from passing trays.

"Dean. Can we get you some more mini-quiche?" Sarah asked him. "I'm good, thanks." Dean said, in between mouthfuls, and I shake my head. "Just ignore him." I said to Sarah and she smiles at me before she turns to Sam.

"So, can I help you with something?" She asked him. "Yeah, actually. What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?" Sam asked her. "The whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me, selling your things this soon. But Dad's right about one thing, sensationalism brings out the crowds. Even the rich ones." She replied.

"Is it possible to see the provenances?" Sam asked her. But before she could tell us anything else, Mr Blake comes up to us. "I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that." He said as he glares at us. "Why not?" I asked him. "You're not on the guest list. And I think it's time to leave." He replied.

"Well we don't have to be told twice." Dean said, putting on his posh voice again. "Apparently you do." Mr Blake said, snidely. "Okay. It's all right. We don't want any trouble. We'll go." Sam said and we walk off.

"Grant Wood, Grandma Moses?" Dean said, questioning, to Sam as we come up to the motel room. "Art history course. It's good for meeting girls." Sam said. "It's like I don't even know you." Dean said as he unlocks the door and we enter the room to see that it has this retro 70s disco fantasy theme

"Huh." The boys and I said together before we move into the room and began dumping our bags. "You sure you don't want the bed?" I asked Sam. "I mean, I can go purchase my own room or I can take the couch..."

"No, no, it's fine. I'll sleep on the couch." Sam said and I shrug. "Okay, if you insist." I said.

"What was...providence?" Dean asked Sam, curiously. "Prov-e-nance. It's a certificate of origin, like a biography. You know we can use them to check the history of the pieces, see if any of them have a freaky past." Sam said. "Huh. Well, we're not getting anything out of chuckles, but Sarah..." Dean said as he snaps his fingers at Sam, smirking. "Yeah, maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin." Sam said, smirking back.

"Not me." Dean laughs and Sam looks up at him then realized what he was getting at. "No no no, pick ups are your thing, Dean." Sam said. "It wasn't my butt she was checking out." Dean said and they exchange a look.

"In other words, you want me to use her to get information." Sam said, slightly annoyed. "Unfortunately, Sam, sometimes you gotta take one for the team." I said as Dean pulls out his phone and hands it to Sam. "Call her." He said.

After returning from his date with Sarah, Sam and I were at the table and looking through the papers Sarah gave him, while Dean was sitting on the bed while sharpening his blade on a whetstone.

"So she just handed the providences over to you." Dean said, questionable. "Provenances." Sam corrected him. "Provenances?" Dean said, haltingly. "Yes. We went back to her place, I got a copy of the papers..." Sam replied.

"And?" Dean said, questioning. "And nothing. That's it. I left." Sam said. "You didn't have to con her or do any...special favors or anything like that?" Dean asked and I shake my head.

"Dean, would you get your mind out of the gutter, please?" Sam pleads, annoyed. "You know when this whole thing's done, we could stick around for a little bit." Dean said, after giving a little laugh.

"Why?" Sam asked him. "So you could take her out again. It's obvious you're into her, even I could see that." Dean said and I shrug a bit. "He's not wrong, Sam. I could see it as well." I said and Sam looks at me then at Dean before he scoffs then looks back at his paper.

Dean and I look at each other for a moment, confused, just as Sam said. "Hey, I think I've got something here." Dean comes over as Sam holds out the papers. "Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family, painted 1910." I read. "Now compare the names of the owners with Dad's journal." Sam said to us and Dean checks John's journal. "First purchased in 1912, Peter Simms. Peter Simms murdered 1912. Same thing in 1945. Oh, same thing in 1970." Dean reads.

"Then stored, until it was donated to a charity auction last month. Where the Telescas bought it." Sam said and we all share a look. "So what do you think, it's haunted? or cursed?" I asked them. "Either way, it's toast." Dean said as he starts to get ready.

That night, Dean leaps and easily scales the meters high metal gates and sprints into the mist. "Come on!" Dean whisper-yells at us and we follow him.

Sam, wearing gloves, starts to disarm the security alarm and succeeds. "Go ahead." Sam said to me and I, also with gloves, pick the lock.

We shine our flashlights around inside, quickly searching for the painting. Dean spies it upstairs and we sprint up the spiral staircase. Holding his flashlight in his mouth, Dean flicks his switchblade and cuts the painting from its frame. We grab it and run out of that building as quickly as possible.

We get out onto a dirt road and throw the painting in the dirt. Sam and I were holding our flashlights as Dean readies the matches. "Ugly ass thing. If you ask me, we're doing the art world a favor." Dean said and he drops the match and the painting ignites, burning slowly.

The next day, Sam and I were in the motel room when Dean runs out of the bathroom. "We got a problem -- I can't find my wallet." Dean said, in a panic. "How is that our problem?" I asked him. "'Cause I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night." Dean said and Sam and I look at him, horrified.

"You're kidding, right?" Sam asked, terrified. "No. It's got my prints, my ID, well my fake ID anyway. We gotta get it before someone else finds it. Come on." Dean said and we head out.

We hurry back at the auction house and look around, looking everywhere. "How do you lose your wallet, Dean?" Sam asked him, frustrated. Dean throws his hands in the air and we keep looking.

"Hey guys!" A voice said and we spin around to see Sarah. "Sarah! Hey." Sam said as he tries to act cool. "What are you doing here?" Sarah asked him. "Ahh, we....we are leaving town and, you know, we came to say goodbye." Sam said while Dean walks over to Sam.

"What are you talking about Sam, we're sticking around for at least another day or two." He said to him while Sam looks at Dean, confused. Dean then gets his wallet out of his pocket and I sigh and roll my eyes as I realized what he was doing. "Oh, Sam. By the way. I'm gonna go ahead and give you that $20 I owe you." Dean said as he pulls out some money and hands it to Sam.

"I always forget, you know." Dean said as he looks at Sarah while Sam looks at him, disbelieving. Sam takes the cash from him and glares at him. "Well (y/n) and I'll leave you two crazy kids alone, we gotta go do something...somewhere." Dean said as he grabs my arm and we leave, quickly.

Dean and I were sitting outside by the Impala, waiting for Sam, when he finally comes out but Sam seemed a bit upset or perturbed about something. "Sam? What's wrong?" I asked him as he comes up to us. "Guys...we have a problem." He said to us and we give him a confused look.

"I don't understand, guys, we burned the damn thing." Sam said as we pace around our hotel room. Apparently, after we left, Sam saw that the painting was back and looked brand new once again. "Yeah, thank you Captain Obvious." Dean growls.

"All right, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?" I asked them. "Okay, all right. Well, um, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings it's always the painting's subject that haunts 'em." Sam said. "Yeah. So we just need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy-ass family and that creepy-ass painting." Dean said before he sighs. Then I look over at Sam. "What were their names again?" I asked him.

"You said the Isaiah Merchant family right?" The proprietor of this second-hand book shop asked us. "Yeah that's right." Sam said while Dean was smiling and flicking through an old book with pictures of guns.

The man then lays a huge book of newspaper clippings the table. "I dug up every scrap of local history I could find. So are you three crime buffs?" The man asked us. "Kinda. Yeah." I said while Dean looks at the man. "Why do you ask?" Dean asked him.

"Well..." the man said and he holds up a newspaper article. The lead story on the front page says New Titanic Sinks, 1304 People Go To Watery Graves: Only 866 saved from 2,170 Aboard Liner Which Collides With Iceberg. Disaster Proves To Be the Greatest in Marine History of the World. Then he points at a side article. It reads Father Slaughters Family, Kills Himself.

"Yes. Yeah, that sounds about right." I said, not shocked by that at all. "The whole family was killed?" Sam asked, shocked. "It seems this Isaiah, he slits his kids' throats, then his wife, then himself. Now he was a barber by trade. Used a straight razor." The man replied.

"Why'd he do it?" I asked him. "Let's look. Ahh..." the man said as he begins to read. "People who knew him describe Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament. Controlled his family with an iron fist. Wife, uh, two sons, adopted daughter...." He skims on. "Yeah yeah yeah...There were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave. Which of course you know in that day and age, um....so instead, old man Isaiah...well he gave them all a shave." The man said as he draws his hand across his throat with appropriate noises, laughing.

Dean joins in but stops when Sam and I give him a look of disapproval. "Does it say what happened to the bodies?" Dean asked him. "Just that they were all cremated." The man replied. "Anything else?" Sam asked. "Yeah. Actually I found a picture of the family. It's right here... somewhere. Right -- here it is." The man said and he shows us, from the book, the same picture of the painting.

"Hey, could we get a copy of this please?" I asked him. "Sure." The man said, nodding.

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harryhoney-bee · 3 years

Note

I'm feeling really soft and fuzzy today, So if I can request something I want to do that abeja 🐝💓

#Concept: Nightly routine with y/n and Harry- parents of two little babies.

Tag me if you write this baby ✨✨

Adore you alot 💕

Night Routine

Warning: your ovaries might explode... mine did 🤚🏻 I would give this man 9 children if he asked.

Word count: 1.7k

I have a kofi, so please consider buying me coffee if you can <3

I hope you enjoy it!! Let me know what you think 😚

“But I want to take a beth with him, daddy,” Cecília whined to Harry, while he undressed her, putting her new pajamas and towel on the bathroom counter.

“My little darling, he is still little, he can’t take bath with you,” Harry explained, taking Cecí on his lap and putting her inside the warm tub, handing her some of her favorite toys. “Lorenzo is just 6 months, he’s not as big as you.”

Harry made a bowl with his hands, wetting her curly hair and applying shampoo, a pout still on her face. “Please, daddy?” she said, her chubby hand grabbing his arm. Cecí had already mastered her puppy eyes technique, and she knew how much her dad had a weak spot for her.

“Alright, alright,” He finally gave in, “but he will stay outside of the tub, he doesn’t know how to sit by himself.”

“Thank you, daddy!” The girl splashed water around in excitement, which made Harry smile. That’s how he always wanted to see her: happy and healthy.

Harry went to the door, keeping an eye on the girl in the tub. “Baby? Are you done nursing? Cecí wants to see Lorenzo,” he tried to call his wife as loud as he could while being mindful of Lorenzo, who could be asleep by now. He never wanted to alarm any of him or Cecília with his loud voice.

In a matter of seconds, Y/n appeared in the hallway, a confused expression on her face while Lorenzo was calmly laying down on her arms, his little hands resting on Y/n’s shoulders. “What’s wrong? Why does she want to see him? We just had diner together,” she asked, heading in Harry’s direction.

“I’m not sure, guess she just missed him,” Harry answered, giving his wife a kiss on the forehead and bending down to talk to a very awake Lorenzo. “But who wouldn’t miss you, huh? Such a cutie, right buddy?” he was aware that using a baby voice wasn’t the best, but he couldn’t help, Lorenzo was just extremely adorable.

“Mommy! Enzo!” Cecília called, from the opposite side of the bathroom, “come here mommy, miss you too.”

Y/n sat on the bathroom floor, Lorenzo still with her. “Hey, my heart, having a good bath with daddy?” she asked at the same time Harry sat down by her side and hugged her from the side, laying his chin on her head.

“Yeah! Daddy always let me play,” Cecília took one of the yellow ducks and showed her mom, “This is Mc Duck.”

“Wow, he’s a very beautiful duck isn’t he?” She asked, giving Lorenzo to Harry while kneeling near the bathtub since Cecí still had to wash her hair, Y/n gently took the excess of shampoo from the girl’s hair, while Harry tried to keep Lorenzo entertained by singing him a silly song.

“He is, I love yellow,” the little girl admitted, “I think Lorenzo loves yellows too.”

“And why do you think that, Cecí?” Harry asked amused while pretending to eat the boy’s fingers.

“Because we’re are best friends,” She said as if the answer was obvious, “and friends like the same things.” Y/n and Harry looked at each other and laughed, for a five-year-old girl she knew a lot about relationships.

“Oh, how do you know that?” Y/n asked, finishing washing her hair, letting Cecília enjoy her time in the bath.

“Because you and daddy are best friends, you wear the same clothes sometimes, listen to the same music, and watch the same movies,” with every new topic she would count down on her fingers, it was quite a comical sight.

Harry’s chuckle filled the room, the baby on his lap giggled too. “Well, my little lady, you are right. But friends can also like different things, too,” he told her. “Me and mommy like a lot of similar things, but we also have our preferences.”

“Exactly, daddy loves bananas, but I don’t” y/n complemented, getting Cecília out of the tub, helping her into some warm clothes, “I don’t like to work out, but your dad always wakes up early to go for a run, see? We like different things but we still love each other.”

Harry got up from the floor, rocking Lorenzo softly, his heavy eyes indicating how sleepy the baby was. He took the combing cream in his hand and began combing Cecília’s curls with one hand, while his other arm held Lorenzo. Being a father of two made him very talented at doing two things at the same time. While he did that, Y/n was getting Cecí’s toothpaste ready.

“Daddy, do you love mommy even if she doesn’t go running with you?” Cecí asked, before opening her mouth so Y/n could brush her teeth. Normally they would let Cecília do it by herself, with their supervision, but it was already late and the couple desperately needed to get the children to bed, or else their routine would be messed up. Good thing Lorenzo seemed to be falling asleep already.

“Of course I do! We don’t love people just because they do the same things we do, we love people because they are kind and respectful to us, yeah?” Harry said, looking at Y/n and blowing her a kiss. This is what he loved the most about parenthood: watching the kids growing into their best version.

Parenting was made in many different ways, but the couple especially loved having these kinds of conversations. Even though Cecília was still young, she was already beginning to comprehend what love and friendships were, and Harry and Y/n had the privilege to teach her that.

Harry finished her hair, putting the brush and the products in their place under the sink while Y/n put on some socks on Cecí’s feet, the little girl was yawning, seeming tired. Lorenzo started to fussy on Harry’s arms.

“Guess it’s time to sleep, huh?” Harry said, caressing Cecílias head, “Tired, my baby? Want daddy to read a bedtime story to you? Or do you want mommy?” At the same time he mentioned Y/n, Lorenzo started to soft cry. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Harry asked, looking down at the upset’s baby face.”

Y/n took his from Harry’s arms, cuddling him closer to her chest, “What do you want, Enzo? Mommy just fed you” she looked at her husband, “I’ll nurse him again on the bed, he’s probably just a bit agitated, will you put her to sleep?”

“Yeah, of course.”

The woman kissed Cecília on the forehead, “have a good night, ok, baby? Mommy will take you to the playground tomorrow, alright?”

“Ok mommy, I love you and little bro too,” she said, giving a hug to her mom before she disappeared through the door with the crying baby.

Harry took Cecília by her small hand, leading them to her room, just by the side of the main suite, where the couple slept. He guided the little girl to her bed, giving her all of her favorite stuffed animals, and covered Cecília in her Lilac duvet.

“What story do you want today?

“The pirate one, please,” she asked, laying her head on the pillow as Harry went to her bookshelf, picking the one with the title Pirate’s cove. He sat by the end of the bed and began telling the story.

“I have a story for you, a story of untold riches and a young lad who found them. And who am I, you ask? Well, I am the spirit of the sand-dollar, a pirate and a buccaneer, Captain of the seahorse, the finest ship to ever sail the seven seas…”

Harry would occasionally stop to answer any questions Cecília had, but after 15 minutes he was done with the book and the girl was fast asleep, hugging tight to her little lamb. He made sure she was tucked in and turned off the lights (besides the one on the side of Cecília’s bed, she was scared to sleep in a pitch-black room), he closed the door and headed to his bedroom.

To Harry’s surprise, Lorenzo was sleeping in his bassinet by the side of the mattress. He usually would sleep in his nursery, but today just seemed like an off day to the little boy. Harry got closer to him, stroking the chubby cheeks, “Oh my little bug, did mommy let you sleep here with us? You’re not feeling fine?”

“I think he’s teething,” Y/n said in a raspy voice, taking her head from the pillow, “he’s even a bit warmer than usual, I think his gums are itching.”

“My poor baby,” Harry mumbled, turning his head to Y/n, “I hate seeing him upset, maybe we could make some homemade Popsicle, it helped when Cecília was teething.”

“Yeah, we can try that, we can make them tomorrow.” she patted the mattress, “now please come to bed, he did a number on me, I’m so tired.”

“Alright baby,” Harry took off his shirt, standing only in sweatpants, he went to the bed, laying by Y/n side, one arm hooked on her waist as she cuddled to him, placing her head on his shoulder.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” Y/n said against his neck.

“Oh baby, I am the lu--”

“--I mean, how many husbands would still love their wives even if they wouldn’t go jogging at 6 in the morning?” she said teasingly, her giggles reaching his ear.

He rolled his eyes playfully, “you are making a lot of jokes for someone who is tired,” he kissed her temple. “I’m gonna wake you up at 5 am tomorrow, so we can be fitness together.”

“Don’t you dare! You do that and your plan of being a father to three it’s over.”

“Damn sweetheart, that’s not very nice, huh?”

“You’re the one who started,” she said, before closing her eyes, snuggling to Harry’s body. The man placed a hand on her belly, falling asleep minutes later.

Tag list: @sunandherflores @elenagilbert01 @bellelittleoff, @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson

If you don't want to be in the tag list just let me know, please!! <3

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #dad!h #dad!harry #harry styles writings #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fanfiction

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moxfirefly · 3 years

Text

Welcome to October! Today being the first of the month I’ll be starting celebrations by posting the first of hopefully many spooky/kinktober fics for everyone’s enjoyment. We are starting of things in RE8 with Lycan!Heisenberg!

https://open.spotify.com/track/3S2yvrjwH1hruVD4UWDapM?si=ExSIk1ZST9eFs7FJBz9dFw&dl_branch=1

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

TW: Body horror, blood, menstrual cycle, possessive behavior, vouyerism, ns*w themes basically

The crunch of leafs beneath your boots seemed to be the loudest sound out here in the open. The cold autumn weather announcing itself with yet another harsh wind that blew your crimson cloak around you.

It’s in the games we play.

You felt that overwhelming presence that belonged only to him, it radiated off of him much like the cigar smoke you picked up as it faintly travelled across to you.

There was that conceited laugh of his as he approached you from behind.

“You really know how to haul ass when it concerns you, huh?” His breath tickled the back of. Your head and it took so much of your pride to not smile at the sound of his voice. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of turning, to let him see your eyes and the fire the burned in your gaze. “Letting you win isn’t my favorite past time to be frank” That laugh of his vibrated against your skin, so infectious, so very him.

“Oh kitten, I always win” He leaned in, nose to your hair and inhaled softly the scent he had memorized so well.

He could track you through storm and distances.

He would always find you.

And how he loved the chase, this little game you both played.

You felt as much as your heard his growl, the human sound that slowly dropped to a guttural baritone. His eyes, once the stormy hazel they were must be golden now and so very inhuman. As your heart picked up that drumming beat anticipation, you turned slightly to see that handsome smile of his sporting sharp teeth, canines so sharp and perfectly white.

How often you’d seen them sporting red and flesh.

“Come now little one, the games only starting!” He backed up with a bounce to his step, arms wiggling out of that coat he never left home without. You watched him kick off his boots and toss his hat to the quickly growing pile of clothes. There was a cracking sound as he unbuckled his belt, yanking the leather in one fell swoop, all you could do was swallow and bunch up the front of your dress to ready yourself. Heisenberg’s shoulders made a sickening crack, as if the bones had snapped under some unseen force, his finders followed suit and soon human flesh began to give way to something monstrous.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!-“ His voice dropped even lower, the growl nearly demonic in the air of the forest. Something cracked again, the sounds of bones snapping into their rightful position for this. You dug your heels, chest rising as you continued to watch Heisenberg change before your very eyes. “Seven! Six! Five!-“ Those silver locks grew, more patches of hair appearing as he grew in size himself with another crack of his knees, his face contorted, mouth ripping at the corners as a snout began to take form. His clothes tore, pieces of fabric falling or merely hanging by threads on his changing body. It was the half way point, where there was still some human features left but it was more lycan than man regardless.

His tail wiggled off some scraps of clothing, shoulders rolling back to crack them further into their new alignment. That grin, god even in his lycan form it still remained.

The human tone slipped further into just a husky growl as he finished his countdown.

“Four! Three! Two!-“

He howled out that last number, the sound of it drifting into the menacing boom that alerted you that now was the time to start fucking running.

And that you did.

Took off like bullet from a starting pistol, with the echo of your heart being drowned out by the monstrous growl Heisenberg unleashed as he chased after you.

The cold wind assaulted your face as you sprinted as quickly as you could, each step felt like it held the possibility of your doom, with some branches and rocks in place you could easily stumble.

Stumble and lose this little game prematurely.

A sadistic growl rang through the woods as you tried to take a hard left, the sounds of of something sliding and digging into the earth felt too close for comfort. There was a purpose to this game after all, aside from the hunt that Heisenberg derived pleasure from. The goal was to back track to the factory, if you could make it passed the damn bridge, enter his territory then maybe, maybe this time you could be crowned the victor.

But Heisenberg was so quick, even as you ran now with every ounce of adrenaline pumping into you, his presence was close.

Too fucking close.

Distant howling made you falter, feet nearly locking in place and making you trip onto the dirt. Those weren’t supposed to be nearby, the game had its rules after all. It would be rather unfair of him to call upon the rest of those bastards to side track you and truly make you dizzy with whom exactly was closest. Bunching up the front of your dress you were ready to sprint once more as an eerie quiet fell around you. Heisenberg’s heavy steps had seized and so had the howling, something was truly amiss.

The huff of your breath in the cold felt like a signal at this point, a beacon for anybody to find you. The sweat of your brow was chilled against your skin, for as much as your turned to any possible space in the forest it all showed that he could spring out at you any given second, the silence only served for the anxiety to kick in. He had a sadistic streak, naturally he would let the rest of the dogs mess with you if it meant he’d win in the end.

He always won though, why was tonight so different?

Just as you thought, you felt it. It could be mistaken for sweat, could’ve been so easily mistaken for it but you knew your body.

“Oh…fuck” You whispered as you hiked up your dress and saw the blood staining your underwear. The horrible realization that there would be no way to win settled and in what you could only describe as the world coming to a slow stop, you saw him.

Saw how he roused into that frightening height of his, claws caked in dirt and fabric from your dress (shit he had been really close back there), you watched him as he approached you with slow calculated steps. His eyes never stopped being the attention driven spot, they felt like the only source of light in the darkness ironically enough. “I said no dogs, you’ve always known that you cheat” If that mandible could grin it would, the sneer was there but the muscles weren’t quite right given his form. There was a series of sounds that could easily be taken for laughter at your expense.

He hadn’t quite cheated though? The lycans had merely voiced their needs, they knew you were out here but to this point they had not shown up. His arms had extended in that of a motion, a ‘you see?’ To still your accusations of him. You would’ve stomped your foot like a child but that would only give further cause for him to mock you. Your eyes scanned the surrounding spaces but it would be futile.

For each step he took you took one backwards.

His tongue came out to lick his snout, the appendage long and slimy with spit. He was salivating, he had his prey before him with not manner of escape and actively bleeding. Your eyes went wide as you dropped the skirt of your dress and hoped that the only reason he was sniffing the air was because of passing scents. With his head upturned high, sniffing once more he dropped it rapidly to zero in on you and something quite like a demonic laughter left his chest.

“Kitty… bleed” The words were strained, caught between growls and actual sounds normal him would make. Heisenberg was the only lycan capable of speech, to a degree it’s very limited, but he enjoyed using it to torture when the two of you were to play like this. The flight response in your body was pressed and the very second you tried to make a run for it, you felt a large hairy arm wrap around your waist and lift you up. That damned howling laughter rang out as he readjusted you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “You cheat! You knew it would be today! That’s why you insisted so much on playing” You smacked him and yanked at his fur but a large clawed hand falling on your rear reminded you, to the winner goes the spoils.

A hard yank tore your cloak as he casted it towards the ground with every intention of making it into a small nest for you. You were dropped quite unceremoniously onto it, soon enough the dark sky was obscured by him and what a sight this monster of a man could be. You still played up your disappointed frown, even as he won it never truly meant you lost, fun was to be had after all. Those large claws dug into the ground on each side of your head as he hovered above. “Karl don’t salivate on me!” You grabbed his snout, giving it a playful shake much like you would any common dog, it wasn’t long before your were scratching him.

“You still cheated” You announced as you continued to scratch him, he shook himself much to your protesting shrieks. “Asshole-“ You words were cut short when the fabric of your skirt tore as one single claw cut it down the middle, great nothing like walking back home naked in the cold. For good measure you yanked his ear with a grin of your own, Heisenberg growled baring his teeth towards you. His tongue stuck out to lap at the sweat on your stomach, slowly the behemoth of a creature descended lower. Your eyes nearly bugged out and you wanted to yank him back up by the scraggly mop of hair on his head, but naturally he was too quick for you.

Both your wrist were enclosed in one massive clawed hand just as he swiped at the front of your underwear. He shuddered, a pleasant shiver running down his spine when he tasted your essence in every sense of the word. “Absolutely disgusting, you’re the wors-ah!” You shrieked when another simple flick of his claws tore open your underwear. “Silly… brat” Came that guttural tone accompanied by a swipe of his tongue over your folds. Your chest heaved, it never stopped feeling so odd, from the feel of it to how wide and long his tongue was, but it never proved to be unwelcome.

Your widened eyes watch the mass below you greedily lap up, even as he let go of your wrist and picked up your legs to properly spread them for his feast.

Those usually perfectly white teeth were now stained with blood. When he looked up at you.

“Disgusting dog” Was all you could retort with a smile, his tail wagged.

“Smells… good” He spoke at the inside of your thigh, the scrape of his teeth making the limb shake. One incorrect movement and there could be crimson lines adorning it. That animal instinct of his could override common sense and while there were perks for it, the negatives could be fatal. His nostrils flared for a second, the hard gust of air moving your hair. Heisenberg directed his gaze behind himself, several noises and howls leaving him. Curiosity had gotten the better of you, as you sat up to look behind him.

The lycans had gathered, a large number were cautiously approaching. Your hand dug into the fur his body in fear. “Karl?!” You questioned in a hushed whisper, they were communicating from the looks of it and at some point he had made it abundantly clear that would the closest they could get. He turned on his knees to fix you with a gaze that could only be described as pure mischief.

Son of a bitch had really planned this to a tee.

“You bastard, really?! You want them to watch?!” You yanked at his fur once again, his response was to bump his snout against your cheek and chin. It was his physical way of telling you to ‘relax’ and to seal it, he licked your mouth with as much tenderness as he could muster in this form. “You owe me for this, owe me big time” You scratched his head and gave his cheek a kiss before settling back on the ground. There was an excitement palpable in his body, from the way he gripped your hips and lifted your lower half so he could get one more taste from you. The long languid stripe he licked made you bite your lip, your eyes fell on the lycans watching with their steely gazes. You locked your ankles behind Heisenberg’s head to keep him there a little longer

There was something akin to jealousy in their gazes.

Your skin flushed, the furnace like heat Heisenberg exuded naturally making your skin balmy. His hands slid up your thighs, swiftly unhooking your ankles, you braced yourself as best as you could when he manhandled you onto your stomach…

And in perfect view of the rest of the lycans. You blew a strand of hair from your face, frowning as the howling of multiple dogs rang out. They all itched to be where Heisenberg was but only he could, and if any of them dared to disobey, oh it would get far more messier quickly. His snout bumped against your ear, a quick sharp inhale making the skin of your neck breakout in goosebumps. “Mine mine mine” He pushed out through a hiss. Your eyes flutter closed as he bit down gently onto your shoulder, he never closed down fully, but the threat of it being a possibility was enough to remind you. Heisenberg was hot and hard at your backside, the length of him making you bite the inside of your cheek.

Your gaze fell on one particular lycan, his eyes had glued themselves onto your face, the need behind his stare made you grin. A twist of your hair alerted you that Heisenberg knew and when he roared at the other, he in turn simply recoiled at his superiors rage. For your indiscretion he dug his hands into the meat of your rear, the sharpness of the claws reminding you.

Only his, no one else’s.

When he pushed in, the sharp intake of breath you took made you arch back and dig your hands into the soil. You could feel the drip of his saliva onto your lower back, each inch inside making him growl. You felt him maneuver you onto all fours, hands gripping your waist, dwarfing you seamlessly. You trembled as he sheathed more of his cock inside of you until you reached back to tap him on the hand that you had your limit of him. That first thrust always left you speechless, lacking oxygen and even a little dizzy. He was so large, so thick and lost in the sensation of owning you.

Owning you right in front of these mutts.

Those large hands found your arms and pulled back, if it weren’t for his strength you could’ve easily fallen face first but he held onto you and started to move. Eyes shutting tight, you felt your thighs began to shake at his strong movements. He was strong in his human form, but like this? It never stopped surprising you, never stopped exciting you that his strength was unmatched to the crowd of lycans before you. Not one single one of them made any moves to find for dominance and it was no secret that had Heisenberg deeply excited and filled to the brim with pride. There was a roar that startled you from your pleasure, he yanked you back towards him to further possessively hold you again himself.

He wanted you to watch.

Look at those envious dogs, his movements spoke. His snout came to rest on your shoulder, each huff of air from his nostrils felt cold on your heated skin. He thrusted faster, a need to claim urging him to smack his hips against you. His tongue snuck out and licked at your neck just as his movements were bordering on painful. This never stopped being messy, it never stopped being hot either. There was good reason to do this outside, although Heisenberg had others naturally. “So… good…. Mine” A large hand twisted both your breast into a painful grip, mindful of the sharpness his hold had but too far gone to not show his desires. That pulsing need could be felt in his movements, the insistent growling as his release approached.

It was in the way he held you against him.

Where his fur stuck against your sweaty skin and that insistent line of spit kept falling on your shoulder. Trapped in his embrace you could do little to show your lust but it surely was evident in the sounds you hadn’t stopped making since he had slid into you. The lycan’s stamina was nowhere near that of a human’s, and while Heisenberg knew your limitations he very well knew he could pump a few loads into your body regardless of you being a babbling mess beneath him. You felt your entire body seize up, the only thing holding you up being Heisenberg as he continued to thrust into you, with a scream of pleasure you alerted him that your end had approached and with that he pushed you down onto the fabric of your cloak to fuck the first of many loads into you. He roared, hand on the middle of your back trying to not dig those claws in. He filled you almost unbearably so, it leaked out so easily and made a mess down the inside of your thighs. You trembled with each spurt that shot into you, oversensitive thanks to your sudden predicament this evening. This only seemed to further drive him, it wasn’t the usual possessive need, if anything it felt cranked up to eleven.

When his hips had settled into a gentle sway, huffing breaths hitting your back, you knew it was his way of letting you settle. A slow drag of a claw down your back made you shiver, the rest of the lycans had begun to howl and become rowdy but another roar from Heisenberg put a stop to it.

You smiled tiredly, a soft chuckle mixing into your heavy breathing.

Heisenberg moved his hips once more, picked up the speed one thrust at a time. With a smirk you placed your hands behind your back, his almost delighted growl could be taken for laughter.

He gladly accepted your wrist, the show of submission for the rest of the dogs to see.

That you only belonged to him.

#spooktober #kinktober #paimon writes #paimon does Halloween specials #re8 village #lycan heisenberg #lycan!heisenberg #lycan Heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #lycan karl heisenberg #ns*w #lord heisenberg x reader #🎃#Spotify

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officialscaramouche · 3 years

Text

Three is company— a gift for @ambers-glider ‘s fic here! I told y’all I’d get to writing today!!!!

EDIT: Tomo is the friend (Tomo is short for tomodachi which is friend in japanese)

pairing: Kazuha x Gorou x reader

tw: a couple curse words

wc: 2,178

You squatted around the fire with your colleagues, eating your food straight from the can. “[Y/N]!” You hear your squad leader call out from his tent. You turn to look at what he wanted and note him standing with a messenger from the base of operations you just left. He waved what looked like a white flag. It piqued your interest, you had to admit, stretching out your legs with your can in hand.

“Yes, sir!” You salute, slapping your ankles together in form.

Your squad leader extended his hand, exchanging an open letter with you. “A letter. From the resistance,” he says simply. “From the second in command himself.”

It didn’t take the second sentence for you to know who it was. Of course, Kokomi was the leader of your resistance— all of you worked for her. But her second in command was none other than the tricky Gorou, known for his sly and mischievous ploys. “Thank you, sir,” you salute once more before dipping to tear into the letter.

It sucked that none of your mail could go through unopened, but it made sense considering that any one of you could be shogunate spies. It was a small price to pay for your cause, even if the letter was a bit personal.

[Y/N], it read. I hope this letter finds you well. After yours and Kazuha’s leave, I dove into my work to try and distract myself from the aching in my heart. Seeing many of my comrades fall in the recent ambush made me long for you more. I cannot ignore it much longer, so I have written to both you and dearest Kazuha in hopes that we may once again be reunited. We should all be returning to base in two weeks for the monthly review. Please find me there. I look forward to seeing you. Gorou.

“Oh?” A voice came behind you. “Everyone wondered what was going on between you and the shiba boy. I guess this proves true?”

You pulled the letter to your chest, scowling at the man who sat beside you. “Do you need something, sir? Why is my business important to you?”

He smiled, throwing an arm around you. “Damn, I was just curious!” You shook his arm off of you and turned your back to him. “I’m sorry that we have to go through your letters. But I’m sure you understand.”

You frowned as your eyes scanned the letter again. “I do,” you sigh. Bringing the letter to your nose and breathing in the scent. It smelled like otogi wood. It smelled like him. “But it does suck that everyone in command knows about my affairs.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind my asking.”

You peer over your shoulder and glare. “I do mind you asking.” You hissed.

The two weeks went by painfully slow. Your team was sent to do reconnaissance once more after the ambush that Gorou mentioned in his letter. While it wasn’t your team that was tasked with scouting that area prior to his arrival, it was your command team that got in trouble for it. Everyone was expected to do seamless work and the weight was on your team’s shoulders.

You double checked your field of observation; replacing your traps, checking the knots, and notating all of your activities. Signing off and turning in your report, you packed all of your equipment and belongings and darted out of the camp.

It was good to finally be back on base. All you wanted to do was get into your room and hop into the shower. You weren’t about to meet your exes sweaty and covered in dirt. You step inside and stop at the front desk. “Welcome back [Y/N],” the receptionist greets. “What number did you reserve?”

“Twenty three,” you slide over the key, lugging your duffel bag onto the table. You unzip the bag and fish for your personal belongings as the receptionist grabs your locker key. “I’m returning the reconnaissance pack and some gear.”

The receptionist scratches out your name on the clipboard and pulls the bag across the desk. “I heard you’re meeting with Master Gorou and Lord Kazuha.”

You slap your forehead with a groan. “Ugh, does everyone know?”

“Not everyone. I heard from Master Gorou himself. He told me to tell you he’d be in his office.”

“He’s here already?”

“Since seven this morning. He seemed rather eager to meet you.” The receptionist hands you the forms you signed to borrow the equipment. “Sign and date, please.”

You take the pen off the desk and begin to scribble on the document when the door slides open with a ding. “Oh, [Y/N],” a calm and melodious voice says. “What great timing!”

You shudder at the voice, turning slowly to confirm your suspicions. “O-Oh, hi Lord Kazuha…I just got back.”

The samurai walks up and places a hand on the small of your back. “Is Gorou here yet?”

“Yes,” the receptionist answers, taking the clipboard back from you. “He should be waiting in his office.”

“Great,” Kazuha smiles, grabbing your belongings off the desk and ushering you away with him. “Let’s go, shall we?”

You twiddle your fingers nervously as you walk. “I haven’t showered yet, my lord.”

“Oh that’s alright. I haven’t either.”

That wasn’t the point, you thought, reaching the elevator. “Well, I was hoping I could stop at my room and shower.”

Kazuha pushed one of the buttons on the elevator panel. “We’re already here, though.” You scratch your head and frown. “It’s okay,” he continues. “Master Gorou won’t mind.”

“Why do you smell like incontinence?”

You bury your face in your palms as you listen to Gorou and Kazuha speak. “Because I’ve been hiding in the trenches,” Kazuha laughs, opening his arms for a hug.

“You know I have a strong sense of smell,” Gorou whined as he embraced the samurai. “And [Y/N],” you look from between your fingers and notice the warm smile and faint blush on Gorou’s face. “It’s so good to see you too.”

The shiba boy walks up to you and pulls you into a tight embrace, his face nuzzled into your neck. “You’re stinky too.”

“Hey!” You shout, your hands reaching to wrap around him. “Kazuha didn’t want to stop at my room.”

Gorou pulls back and gazes into your eyes, his hand coming to cup your cheek. “That’s okay. I’ve been waiting around anxiously for both of you. Come,” he gestured, extending his arm out. “Please sit with me. I’ve got cookies and tea.”

Kazuha tucked his hands into his sleeves and grinned. He knelt down on the tatami pillow, sitting down on his knees and reaching for a cookie. You followed suit next to him, sitting back on your heels and taking the teacup from Gorou after he poured some tea. It was nice and light until Kazuha took a sip from his cup. “Why did you ask us to come here?” He said with a smile.

You stiffened at the question, your hair standing on end at the suddenly uncomfortable mood. You thought it was obvious why he arranged this meeting, but you guess that Kazuha wanted to hear it from his own mouth.

Gorou rubbed the back of his neck. “I mostly wanted to apologize,” he explained. “Whether or not you accept my apology is not my concern. But I do hope that we can agree to reconcile.”

“It’s very uncomfortable walking around after my superiors have gone through my mail,” Kazuha continued, closing his eyes as he sipped on his tea. “You could’ve at least been a bit more subtle with the delivery.”

“That was part of the problem, though.” The two of you watched and listened closely as Gorou spoke. When the three of you parted ways, it wasn’t on the best of terms. Being in each other’s presence was awkward enough as a result, but hearing him explain his side wasn't something that either you or Kazuha cared to understand. “Keeping both you and [Y/N] a secret was a problem to me. I understood that it would become a hindrance if people knew, but I couldn’t even hold your hand in public.”

Kazuha was silent as he spoke. Gorou and Kazuha had been a thing before you were introduced. But from the beginning you felt that things were tense between them. Being an outsider, the problem was more obvious than it was to them but it was something you felt they needed to work out. That’s why you left.

“And while it was okay for a bit,” Gorou continued, looking away as his words began to choke in his throat. “It was painful to love someone who didn’t even want to be called my ‘boyfriend.’ I don’t think you realize how embarrassing it is to say ‘oh, Kazuha’s my not-boyfriend because he doesn’t want to be tied down by titles.’ I understand that you don’t want a serious relationship but it felt like you didn’t care.”

“I was grieving,” Kazuha kind of snapped, his fingers curled into a fist. “Do you not understand that? My real boyfriend killed himself!”

“Am I not real to you?! Am I just your rebound to fuck and forget?! We are all grieving, Kazuha! We all loved Tomo! What about [Y/N], huh?! Is [Y/N] not real to you either?!”

Kazuha slammed his fist on the table. “Neither of you give a shit! Neither of you care about how I feel!”

Gorou stood on his feet, looking down at the man across from him. “Who was the person that begged you to stay, huh?! Throwing yourself into battle at every chance you got and then turning your back on me!! How dare you say I don’t give a shit!”

The three of you sat in uncomfortable silence after both men refused to say anything else. All you did was sit there and listen, not really feeling as if your opinion mattered. You weren’t in the relationship for very long anyway, why would you have anything to say?

Kazuha looked away from the both of you, while Gorou’s eyes focused on him. You sat with your hands in your lap, waiting for someone to say something. “What do you think, [Y/N]?” Kazuha said finally, not looking at you.

“Me?” You pointed to yourself. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” Gorou said, sitting back down and reaching for your hands. “You were a part of the relationship too.”

“I’m not sure though…it didn’t feel like I was.” Kazuha looked over his shoulder, his cheeks wet from tears he had been hiding. “I wasn’t even a part of the conversation. You left—” you said, pointing to Kazuha. “—and you ignored me.” Then pointing to Gorou.

You crossed your arms with a huff. “Kazuha didn’t even try to talk it out, and Gorou wasn’t patient enough. Neither of you had any care about how I felt. I don’t even think you guys care now! All you want is for me to agree with you and argue with the other! But you’re both wrong! We all loved Tomo, Kazuha. It’s not fair that you shut all of us out. And it’s also not fair to Kazuha to try and force him to get over it so quickly! Everyone grieves at different paces. Just because you’re more used to your friends dying doesn’t mean he has to!”

They were both silent again as your words soaked in. You were right, of course. Gorou thought about the things he said and how he could’ve done it differently. How he had pushed Kazuha away instead of helping. And Kazuha thought about how selfish he was being. He wasn’t Tomo’s only friend and he wasn’t the only one who cared about him.

Then the silence was broken. “I’m sorry.”

Both of the men turned to look at you with confused expressions. “Why are you sorry?” Kazuha asked, grabbing your hands and pulling you close to him. “It’s not your fault.”

Gorou came around and joined in the hug, wrapping his arms around both of you. “Yeah, [Y/N] it’s not your fault. We’re the ones who fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Kazuha pulled back, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I’m the one who should apologize.”

“No,” Gorou shook his finger. “I said I was going to apologize first.”

“Well too bad!” Kazuha shoved a finger into Gorou’s chest. “I said it first!”

Gorou laughed, pinching Kazuha’s cheek. “No, [Y/N] said it first!”

You pushed them away from you and chuckled. “Now that you’re both feeling better, I was going to say ‘I’m sorry is what you should say to each other.’”

Kazuha tucked your hair behind your ear with a soft expression, before Gorou swooped in and peppered your cheeks with kisses. “Promise you’ll work on it?” You asked.

Gorou and Kazuha looked at each other lovingly, leaning in to kiss for the first time in a long time. “We promise.” They said at the same time.

#writing #Kazuha #Kazuha x reader #Gorou #Gorou x reader #three is company #Kazuha x Gorou #kazugorou #Kazuha x Gorou x reader

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keisins · 3 years

Text

—✥ SEVEN HEADED SNAKE, WHAT YOU CALL THAT? BLEEDING LIKE AN OPEN SCAR.

pairing. assassin!nanami kento x assassin!f!reader warnings. smut(18+), slight angst overview. *this plot was actually inspired from the amazing @sukirichi , ty for letting me use the idea from your drabble!* your divorce with nanami gets finalized, but why does it feel like your relationship is just beginning?

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ]

It’s an end.

“Alright, all done. You’re free to go. Thank you.”

You try not to look at the man that’s sitting across from you in this sweltering, closed up space of an attorney office. The papers you both inked your signatures on are slid into a safe kept portfolio that you will get a copy of soon enough, for confirmation.

Confirmation of a love that never really existed in the first place.

The white haired lawyer of your now ex-husband huffs a grin as he extends a hand to you. “I think a congratulations is in order.”

His wolf-like smile is a harsh reminder of how this was all your idea. A humiliating blush threatens to creep up your face before Nanami makes his first comment in the past five loudly silent minutes.

“You’re so unnecessary.” He murmurs as Gojou Satoru shakes your hand enthusiastically. It seems that a lot of things amuse the man. Especially, the person next to you.

Getou stares at the hand placed in front him and the same obnoxious grin you had just endured.

“Till next time, Suguru?”

The informality catches you a little off guard, but your “attorney” only gives a serene smile back and takes the hand. “Yes. See you, Satoru.”

Nanami gives you one last look and you a thin smile before nodding and making his way out. Gojou follows suit.

Getou sighs and drops the portfolio onto the hardwood table. “Well, now that’s done. We can finally start our mission, huh?”

You hum, slumping back into the wooden chair.

It’s a beginning.

“Got eyes on the target yet?”

Ah, those words never get old, do they? Nanami stares into the optic as he shifts his hold on the air soft rifle to search. He wants to get this over with— it’s been a long fucking week— and it never helps to have Gojo in his ear every minute gone by. Before Gojo can speak again, Nanami finally settles in a perfect spot.

The man fits every detail description. But, like clockwork, he needs to verify. “Seated at the bar, right?”

He hears the confirmation and his finger goes to the trigger until a figure comes up. It blocks the shot, but it’s quite the view anyway. It’s you. Wait— why were you here? His ex-wife; an acquaintance that agreed to marry him to both of your guy’s parents off your back, the one who always waited for him coming home from work (which ever one that may be; the office job or a sniper) and never complained until, well, this week.

He couldn’t deny you the request. He kind of owed it to you, to be honest. You were a kind woman with a job in retail, right? You were a good wife— loyal and patient, right? You were perfect on paper. Almost too perfect.

“Woah,” he hears Gojo chuckle in amusement and astonishment. “What is your ex-wife doing here, Nanami!”

“I-“ Nanami continues to observe the situation unfolding. You look good. Beautiful. Stunning. Like you belong in the elite society. He hasn’t seen you like this ever. Even when you two got married in that dull city courthouse. He clears his throat. “I don’t know.”

Then, he sees you turn, and you look straight at him through the glass circle. The corners of your lips turn up into the tiniest, sly smile before the back of your head is seen again.

What the fuck just happened? What is going on? It’s all that can go through Nanami’s head at the moment.

This kind of sucks, is all you’re thinking as the target of yours blabbers on about whatever. You could have seen yourself falling in love with Nanami Kento. If only he hadn’t been so stubborn about going to work and saying how dangerous it is there. What was so dangerous about transferring numbers in for some company, you used to think. But, now that he’s after your same target, you understood.

“Gotta give it to you, he’s even scarier now that I know he’s a sniper.” Mahito chuckles through your ear piece. “You know we have to kill him now right?”

You surprise yourself when you shudder at the thought. You hear Geto chastise him in response for you. “She’s kind of busy to be worrying about that right now.” Geto reminds you for what seems like the millionth time that night. “Focus on the target,” he tells you.

Right. Lure him in. Get the portfolio. Kill him. It’s been done before. An easy procedure. If only your ex-husband wasn’t a building away with a sniper in hand. You’re about to secure part of the mission— seduce the man back to his hotel room where the portfolio lies in a safe—when your phone rings.

You don’t know why you agree, but you end up in a luxurious hotel room drinking red wine with your ex-husband as you tell him the whole truth. And he tells you his. It’s too much to take in. It feels unreal.

“So, what now?”

He shrugs and takes another sip of his drink. And he looks so hot, with his chiseled jawline and high cheekbones. And those hands—

Without any thought, you pull on his tie and your lips land on his. Nanami realized he hasn’t touched you intimately in almost a year. He forgot how good it felt. Right now, you taste like wine. He gets a drip of it off your tongue when it brushes against his. And he decides he’ll let you do whatever you want to him. He’s tired. Tired of having to chase you when you were already his all this time.

He doesn’t know you feel the same way. That you’d kill yourself before killing him. So, you counter your rough kisses with your gentle touches along his rugged arms. You make your way to his buttons. You manage to pop two undone when you pull apart from him. Both your lips wet and swollen.

“You aren’t stopping me?”

With the way you’re looking at him and the way he’s looking at you, there’s no way either of you could really pull out of the lustful ambience. And Nanami’s thinking to himself— this was your wife and you haven’t thought of fucking her until now? Where the hell was your head this past year? Why hadn’t you ever come home on time?

The answer all laid upon this stupid job, but this stupid job got him in the position he was in now. And he’s always been logical— backing out on missions that involved higher tiered competition, making sure a bullet would bounce off a target a certain way to trick investigators— but if he needs to let loose and give up all inhibitions to spend this whole night with you, he will.

Who cares if your teams were probably biting each other’s head off at the moment?

You’re searching for an answer in his natural stony gaze before he abruptly moves to stand, causing you to fall backwards towards the hotel bed with an oomf. He’s towering over you with the slightest smug smile when he sees your flustered appearance taking in the muscular body that unfolds as he unbuttons the shirt.

“No. Should I?”

You shake your head no, enveloping your arms around his now bare neck. Please don’t ever, you want to say. Your lips crash again and there’s more of a soft passion to these kisses. He tries not to awe at the falling thin straps on your shoulders giving up so much skin, a lot more skin than he has ever got to see. And he merely thanks God that you’ve begun to unbuckle his pants because he could probably spend a little bit too long admiring your body.

You use this as a chance to turn him over so that you’re on top. Your lips meet his again as you grab his unsurprising large length and rush to put it inside you. You whine at the stretch and Nanami can’t help but feel a little bit pleased at the fact that you, whom is usually so calm and cold, unraveling before him.

“Kento.” You unintentionally whimper. You’re too occupied to be embarrassed as you grind and ride him. He’s taken aback by how hot and silky and wet you are. All for him?

“Fuck.” He’s not exactly holding back either. He’s groaning and grunting against the skin of your neck. Feeling you convulsing around him, he takes back his control as he fucks you through your first high that night.

You wake up to overlapping, obnoxious ringing sounds. You don’t have to look to know who’s calling you at this hour. It’s not like you want to answer anyway. There’s a ridiculously hot man in bed naked next to you.

“Are you going to answer?” His voice is gruff, raspy and you think you want to wake up to it every single fucking day. You throw your phone carelessly to the other end of the room, ignoring the sound it makes when it cracks and you lean over on top of him. The sunlight that’s breaking through the window hits your face so delicately, so gently. You’re beautiful, he wants to say. But he doesn’t, so you settle with the small smirk he has on.

“No. It’s nothing important,” you tell him before you indulge in more and more of whatever he can give you. And if that ends, you don’t really care— at least it started with Nanami Kento.

#i rlly wanted to get this out of my drafts 😭#ill edit later ❤️#jjk smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami smut #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami kento smut #jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer

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smol-and-grumpy · 3 years

Text

Legally Yours - Ch. 01 (Prologue)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester tops the list of hottest entrepreneurs 2020 and yet, there’s still something he wants but can’t have because, in order to get that, he would have to settle down and get married. She agrees too quickly because she wants to secure a more comfortable life for her and her daughter. Will she be able to help Dean get what he wants without losing herself in the fake story they spin up to deceive his father and the world?

Chapter Warnings: None. Maybe the end will get your heart racing.

WC: 1796

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Buy me a coffee

Y/N’s sitting at her desk as she types an answer to the inquiry from a customer, when her friend Donna practically slams a glamour magazine over her keyboard.

“Have you seen this?” The blond woman asks.

“Jesus, Donna! I haven’t saved that document yet! God!” She picks the magazine up and tosses it to the side as she continues to finish the document on her screen.

Donna’s still waiting, staring at her and she wonders if that woman has nothing else to do. Y/N’s sure Donna has plenty to do, they always have a lot of work and that’s why she gets home so late and sometimes, Liv would already be asleep. Sometimes, when she’s lucky, Liv was awake and she’d read her a bedtime story of princesses who are rescued by a heroic prince.

As soon as Y/N is finished, she turns around in her chair, to see her friend still staring at her instead of doing her own work.

“What is it?” She asked with that added annoyed nuance to her tone of voice.

“Look!” Donna lifts her chin to point towards the magazine she slammed in front of Y/N just a moment before, “Have you seen it?”

Turning back around to her desk, she picks it up, “Donna, I’m not reading those mags, so no, I haven’t seen it. Why?”

Instead of answering her, Donna only grins. The grin that shows her dimples. The wicked one, “Page twenty-six,”

With raised eyebrows and that little spark of curiosity which Donna had added to her interest, Y/N rifles through the pages until she reaches page twenty-six.

There’s a picture of a man who stares right at her. He’s wearing a perfect suit. His one hand fakes the adjusting of his cufflink on his wrist. It’s a total male model pose. Well, he looks like one, so she can’t really say that anything’s out of the ordinary.

At a second glance, though, she realizes that he looks familiar. His face is a little scruffy, but that makes him look edgier, makes him look more handsome. He’s smiling bright, showing his perfect white teeth. There are crinkles around his emerald eyes, seven on his right side, and she knows she shouldn’t even be counting them, so she ignores his left side. And she definitely can’t help but notice the freckles across his face.

Oh, she thinks.

Oooohhhh.

“Is that..?” She asks with a frown that gets deeper between her eyebrows because she’s just not sure? She hasn’t seen the man that many times in real life.

“Ya! Our fucking boss! The icy King!” Donna shouts, “Isn’t he dreamy? My god, I wanna eat him up! And he doesn’t look as icy and distant like he always does,”

“Donna!”

“What? Only telling the truth here! Read what the headline says!”

Her friend is right, though, Mr. Winchester’s normal aloof and cold persona isn’t captured in the picture. He’s known to be the icy King in the company. Instead, he looks kind of welcoming and warm. Y/N eyes go to the top of the page, and she can’t lie, it’s hard to concentrate on the writing when there’s a good looking man staring her down.

The headline is in all caps.

DEAN WINCHESTER, HOTTEST ENTREPRENEUR 2020

She frowns, as her eyes leave the magazine to look back at her friend, “That’s what you wanted to show me?”

“Duh! There’s also a whole article about him being the center of attention everywhere he goes,”

“Well, that’s not really surprising, is it? Looking like that?”

“It also says that he has a fiancée.”

“That’s also not surprising,” Y/N shrugs, “I mean, seriously, look at him. Who wouldn’t want to marry that?” She didn't. At least not when they say that he’s cold-hearted. But again, she’s not the norm here because every female is gushing about him.

She closes the magazine loudly, deciding that she shouldn’t waste more time. She wants to get home on time today. Liv went on a field trip with her school and she wants to hear her little girl telling her about how exciting it was. Y/N still has a lot of work to do and also a meeting with her supervisor later. The sleazebag.

“So, can I go back to work?” She turns to Donna, “I have a meeting with Raphael in about twenty minutes.”

“Ew,” Donna cringes her nose.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Exactly,”

“Will you tell him off?”

“I already did,” She sighs, “Multiple times,”

“Why don’t you just go to HR?”

Donna knows what happens. What always happens when she has a meeting with Raphael. He’s always trying things with her. Accidentally brushes his hand against her breast or her ass. He once told her to sit in his lap as he was showing her the numbers of her performance. It wasn’t the first time he suggested it, and she doubts that it will be the last time either. He tried to kiss her more than once, but knowing that they are in an office environment, he didn’t dare to force her too much. He also offers to drive her home almost every week, and she’s slowly getting tired of it, not to mention creeped out.

At their last meeting, he made her hang up a picture frame in his office. His hand rested on her hips to supposedly support her, but they traveled further down until he kneaded her ass in his palms. She immediately got down from there, and left the room wordlessly.

She knows another secret about Raphael, though. One she could use against him, but she just doesn’t know how just yet. Y/N knows and has got proof that he’s been skimming money. He takes it out of the customer’s account. Not a lot, a small sum that customers wouldn’t notice is missing, but in the end, it’s probably a whole lot when he does it to all the customers he’s supposed to look after.

Again, she can’t really bring that up because she’s sure that he’ll spin it around and Raphael is good at that. With a push on the button of his keyboard, he could reverse everything and she knows that.

“I can’t go to HR,” Y/N lowers her head and mumbles to her friend, “Because they won’t believe me,”

And that’s the truth too. The Head of HR is Duma, a woman who occasionally fucks Raphael. They have a friend with benefits thing going on, even if she’s married with children. Duma will never believe her because Y/N’s sure that Raphael can spin this perfectly to fit his narrative.

Besides, what can she possibly tell? It’s her against him. It’s like a mouse against an elephant. She’s only an accountant and is replaceable, whereas Raphael is a member of the leadership team. And who will be let go? She doesn’t think it’s going to be him and she needs the job to survive.

Y/N watches as Donna’s lips start to curl up, the white teeth of the woman are visible, as she drums her fingers annoyingly on her own desk.

With a frown, she asks her friend, “What?”

“I have an idea,” Donna says and pulls up her outlook calendar.

She types in something, and then a calendar appears with a lot of colorful blocks.

Oh no. She has quite the idea of who’s calendar it is even if she can’t read the name from where she’s sitting, which is too far away because she doesn’t want to give the impression that she’s not working. And it’s stupid that they can do that. They have quite an open calendar policy at the office. Everyone can send and block meetings for everyone, even for the icy King.

“Donna, no!”

“Why, Donna, yes!” Her friend grins, “He has an open window right now. The meeting in the boardroom is in ten minutes. You should go tell him what you know. If someone can change anything, it’s him, right?”

Donna’s not wrong, she isn’t. But Mr. Winchester is what? At least four tiers above her if not five. Why should he care what a simple worker in his company is thinking? Why should he care what the hell she goes through every day while he earns enough profit to fuel his expensive and glamorous lifestyle?

“He wouldn’t believe me,” She shakes her head.

“You can tell him about the money skimming, I bet he won’t be happy to hear that.”

“Ugh,”

Donna stands up and walks over to her, braces her hands on the chair Y/N’s sitting on, “What’s the worst that could happen, huh?”

“That I get fired?”

“Meh,” Donna squeaked, “I doubt that. You’re doing a great job. Your records are great. And besides, if they do that, you can go and file a lawsuit against them. Besides, who knows, if you go to HR, Raphael will fire you before the icy King does.”

True, but still.

“Now go get your ass up to the executive floor. Maybe take him a coffee, I heard he likes it black,”

“Oh, just like his heart?”

“Ya, maybe I wouldn’t tell him that?” Donna chuckles.

Y/N’s on her way to the elevators. She can’t believe that she’s really doing it. But Donna’s right. She can’t go on and live like that. It’s already hard to part from her child every morning and to get bullied at her job and being sexually harassed should not be the norm. She just fucking wants to earn enough money to keep her kid and herself above water.

God, she’s really doing it!

Fuck.

There are six elevators lined up in the foyer. Three on each side. Only one goes up to the executive floor and also one is reserved for Mr. Winchester’s penthouse on the top floor. Everybody knows that.

To get the elevator to run up to the executive floor, Y/N would need to have a card with a chip, which she doesn’t, and she feels stupid to have just realized it. And now she’s standing here, lost, with a hot black coffee in a lidless plastic cup that almost burns her fingers off.

Ugh.

She’s so fucking stupid.

Well, she could still try, couldn’t she? She jumped over her own fear and has come this far. She definitely shouldn’t give up now.

Her finger hovers over the buttons. Closing her eyes and exhaling loudly, she gives the button a push. Standing back, she waits, her heart is drumming loudly against her ribcage.

And she doesn’t even have to wait long because not even thirty seconds later, the elevator dings and opens up to reveal a man in a nice suit staring back at her.

It’s him.

Ch. 02

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#legally yours #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

By My Side (Part 1)

Summary: While at home one night, the reader, an actress, is almost kidnapped and at her friend’s suggestion she hires Jensen as her bodyguard. While the pair doesn’t get along, an incident at the reader’s new home leads her and Jensen to taking a drastic measure...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Word Count: 3,900ish

Warnings: language, minor injury, attempted kidnapping, drugging

A/N: There will be no taglist for this series. Please check out the masterlist for posting dates/times. Enjoy!

_________

“Get the fuck off!” you said, kneeing the man that was halfway through dragging you down your stairs. You threw a punch and a kick, swinging more than a few times before the grip on you fell away and you booked it for the front door. You sprinted outside and down the driveway, dashing across the street and banging on your neighbor’s door.

A light came on and you glanced over your shoulder, spotting the guy dressed in black and wearing a mask jog to the end of your driveway.

“Shit, shit,” you said, a strong arm grabbing you and yanking you inside before you could even turn back around. The door slammed shut after you and you took a deep breath, your neighbor standing there in his boxers, saying something to his wife in the background.

“Y/N, are you okay?” said Jared. You straightened up and nodded, his eyes going wide.

“Gen! Tell them she needs an ambulance too,” he said.

“I’m fine,” you said as he walked you to his kitchen and sat you down at the counter. Gen was in there, on the phone with the police it sounded like, as Jared went to a cupboard. He pulled out a red bag and then was walking back over with a wad of bandages, holding it up to your forehead. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” he said. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you said, pressing your hand to your head, seeing the half secured zip tie stuck on your other wrist. There were sirens in the distance and you shut your eyes.

“Hey, no sleeping. You might have a concussion,” he said.

“I’m not sleeping,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut. “Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” he said, the sirens getting louder before there were flashing lights in the window. Gen walked over to the front door, letting the police in. About four officers came inside, one of them immediately coming over to you.

“What’d he look like? How many?” he asked.

“Uh, all in black, with a mask. He was white I think from what I could tell. Maybe six foot, average build, strong. It was just the one as far as I know. Last I saw him he was at the end of the driveway before my neighbor let me in his house,” you said.

“You two, call it in for backup and start looking. Jones, get a full statement from these three. Start with the vic. Medics will want to look at that head,” he said. “Which house is yours?”

“Right across the street. Red front door,” you said. He left and the other cop in there pulled out a plastic bag from his back pocket.

“I need to cut that off for evidence,” he said, glancing at your wrist.

“Should we do anything?” asked Jared as the cop made a cut and bagged the plastic tie.

“I would keep pressure on that wound for the moment,” he said, writing on the bag and taking out a notepad and pen. “Alright. Let’s start from the beginning.”

“I was asleep less than ten minutes ago in my bed and I woke up to someone touching my arm and I found that tie thing on me and the guy tried grabbing my other arm but I rolled away. I got caught up in the covers while I was running away so he caught up to me in the hall outside my bedroom and I just started hitting what I could and then he tried to pull me downstairs and I hit him some more and then he let go and I ran over here.”

“How’d you sustain the head injury?” he asked.

“Well he was hitting me too when I started fighting back,” you said. “I was half-awake.”

“Okay. Sir, I’m going to need to ask you a few questions now.”

Three Hours Later

“Hey,” said Jared, setting a cup of tea down at his breakfast table. He rubbed your back and you sighed. “Rough night huh?”

“At least I don’t have a concussion,” you said, touching your butterfly bandages on your head.

“Police said your alarm wasn’t on.”

“So this is my fault?” you asked.

“No, I didn’t say that. I am saying that you and Gen have a very popular show together and if she didn’t have me around, I’d want her to have a bodyguard, maybe even full time,” he said.

“I have had this conversation with my manager multiple times. I’m not getting a bodyguard. For events and conventions, fine, I’ll have one. At work? In my life? No way,” you said.

“Y/N, you know I used to be in the army. Then I was a cop. Then I was on a SWAT team before I retired to become a stay at home dad,” he said.

“Yes. You’re an adorable scary badass. What’s your point?” you asked.

“When I worked SWAT, I worked a a few kidnapping cases. The honest truth is sometimes we don’t find you until it’s too late or we never do. It’s not like a movie. It’s not like your guys show and someone swoops in. No one shows up out of the blue to save you. You save yourself or you don’t get saved. Rarely do we get you out of that situation.”

“Again, what’s your point?”

“My point is whoever that person was, when they come back because they will come back, Y/N, and when they do, they’re not going to be that sloppy. They may drug you. They may knock you out. They could do a number of things but your chances of getting way again would be extraordinary. I love ya and I’ll always protect you. But next time, I might not be able to stop something bad from happening. You alone over there...I wouldn’t know until it’s too late.”

You were quiet, playing with the tea bag in your drink as he drank from his own mug.

“I don’t want a stranger coming into my home,” you said.

“Y/N, Gen and I want you to stay here for as long as you-”

“I meant a bodyguard, Jare. I don’t want somebody I don’t know to start coming into my life and controlling it.”

“I have a friend from my army days who does that kind of work. He’s between jobs at the moment. I’ll vouch for him,” he said.

“You’re not gonna give me a choice on this, are you,” you said.

“Gen and I are moving. A bigger place,” he said. “We think it’s a good idea if you had a change of scenery too.”

“You think she’s in danger too?”

“We don’t know but she’s five months pregnant. We don’t want to risk anything,” he said. “It’s just a thought.”

“Can...can I stay over here a few days? While I figure out what I want to do?” you asked.

“Yeah, of course, Y/N.”

Two Weeks Later

“I like the new place,” said Jared as he helped you carry in the last box.

“It’s uh, a bit big,” you said. “But the owner wanted to sell fast and I wanted out of the other one fast so it worked out.”

“Seems like a lot of space for one person,” said the man walking in through the open front door. He was in a pair of dark jeans and a blazer, a tee shirt underneath. You stepped behind Jared but he chuckled. “Really Jare? Didn’t mention I’d be stopping by?”

“Y/N, this is my friend Jensen. I told you about him. You said you were interested in meeting him,” said Jared.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” said Jensen, holding out a hand.

“Y/N please,” you said as you shook it.

“I prefer to keep things professional,” said Jensen. “It’s easier that way. So, this is the new place, hm? Which room will be mine?”

“There’s a guest suite over on the first floor you can use,” you said.

“Where’s the master?”

“Upstairs.”

“Preferably I’d like to be in a room closer to yours,” he said.

“Fine. Take the guest room upstairs,” you said. “This is just a test run remember.”

“My contract says this is a six month test run,” he said as he looked around. “I see you’re still moving in so perhaps we can go over some of our new procedures in the morning.”

“Sure,” you said.

“I’ll move in my belongings then,” he said. “I don’t have much.”

“Mhm,” you said. He nodded and headed back outside, Jared catching the look you gave him.

“What?” he asked.

“He’s gonna be a joy to live with,” you muttered.

“He’s quiet until you get to know him. I wouldn’t have recommended him if I didn’t trust him. He’s saved my life before. I know he’ll have your back,” said Jared.

“Yeah,” you said, his phone going off. “Jared, go. I know you’re already late for the baby checkup.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I only have boxes left to unpack anyways. Go on. I’ll talk to you guys later,” you said. He gave you a wave on the way out, leaving you to stare at the pile of boxes sitting on your kitchen floor. You cracked your back and started to work, catching Jensen move in a few duffel bags of his own. He left and wandered around outside eventually, allowing you to try and get the essentials all stored away.

By the time it was seven, you were exhausted but your bedroom, bathroom and kitchen were all set up. You plopped down on the couch, closing your eyes. They blinked open when you felt a presence standing over you.

“I’ve done a review of the property. I’d like to have an upgraded security system installed tomorrow,” he said.

“Whatever. Just put it on the card my manager gave you,” you said.

“I’d also like to consider hiring an additional person to monitor the system at some point. They can be remotely based,” he said.

“Like I said, whatever,” you said, closing your eyes again.

“I assume I have access to use the kitchen as I desire,” he said.

“No smoking. No drugs. No random hookups you bring here and as long as you don’t bug me and stay away from my ice cream, we’ll be fine,” you said.

“I can agree to that. As long as you follow my rules, we’ll also be fine,” he said. You laughed and sat up, walking to the kitchen to find your phone. “Do you think that’s funny?”

“I think the fact you think you’re going to be making rules in my home that I paid for is very funny,” you said. You took the phone to check on the pizza and wings you ordered for yourself, Jensen walking over and stopping in front of you. “Can I help you?”

“You are paying me a very large sum of money to keep you safe. If you don’t listen to what I say then I can’t guarantee your safety,” he said.

“Let me get something clear. I’m doing this to appease my friends and manager. Do whatever you want around here but don’t start telling me how to live my life,” you said.

“I took this job as a favor,” he said, snatching your phone out of your hand and tossing it on the countertop behind him. You scowled and he walked forward, forcing you to back up until your back hit a wall.

“Dude, backoff.”

“Pretend I’m that man that tried to take you before. What do you do? Right here and now. What’s your plan?”

“I’m serious,” you said, trying to brush past him and getting a light shove into the wall for it. You glared at him but he held his ground, pushing you again when you moved.

“I’m serious. Tell me what your plan is. Better yet, show me,” he said.

“I don’t care if you are Jared’s friend. I am this close to punching you. Move now.”

“I said show me.”

You narrowed your eyes and brought up your knee to hit him in the groin. He pushed it away before it connected though and you were off balance, Jensen grabbing you and yanking you away from the wall, putting you in a headlock and tugging your arms behind your back.

“Don’t go for the most obvious move in the world,” he said. “Now that didn’t go how you wanted it to. What’s the plan now?”

“Get off,” you growled, trying to stomp your foot down on his but he moved it back and kicked out your ankle, making you fall back against him. He picked you up and you started moving your legs, Jensen suddenly dropping you down onto the hardwood floor. You hit your knee and winced, a hand suddenly grabbing the back of your shirt. “Alright! I get the fucking point.”

“Do you?” he said, squatting down beside you. You tried pushing his hand away but it tightened and you tried throwing a punch, his grip almost too hard now and his free hand easily blocking the hit. “You have no plan. You’re too small and too weak to overpower someone. You can’t afford to have no plan. The thing is, when it’s real, you’ll be panicking and you’ll have no time at all to think of one.”

“Stop touching me unless you want me to call the cops on you,” you spat out. He moved his hand away and stood, staring back at you.

“You need to do what I tell you if you want to stay safe. I will teach you what to do if you’re in that situation for whatever reason. But the rules keep that situation from happening in the first place. Understand?” he said.

“Understand that you are fired as of now. Pack up your shit and get out of my house,” you said. You got to your feet and he raised an eyebrow. “I’m your boss and I can fire you whenever I want. Get out.”

“How on earth Jared is friends with a someone like you I will never understand,” he said. He headed upstairs and the doorbell rang. You forced a smile for the delivery guy and took your food back to the kitchen, digging in before Jensen was even tossing his first bag down the stairs. You rolled your eyes and were on your third slice by the time he was walking downstairs.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” you said. He shot you a dirty look, his head cocking as he set his bag down. “Oh now what?”

“You look really pale,” he said, walking over to you. “Your pupils are huge.”

“You know what else? You are so not as hot as you think you are,” you said, reaching for another piece of chicken before he smacked your hand. “You are this close to me calling...someone.”

Your head got dizzy for a second, Jensen grabbing your arms and setting you down on the ground.

“I feel funny,” you said, tipping over and resting against him. “Really, really funny.”

“You just got drugged,” he said, using his phone to dial a number. “No more takeout. Got it? Obviously this person knows you moved. I want to put someone at the house full time.”

“I’m gonna fall asleep now,” you said, shutting your eyes.

“No, nope, try to stay awake,” he said. You hummed and he grabbed your face. “Y/N. Try.”

“You’re really pretty for a grumpy grump,” you said.

“I thought I wasn’t hot. Just stay awake for me, Y/N,” he said.

Twenty minutes later you were in the ER with an IV in your arm and feeling a whole lot of crappy. Jensen said something to a doctor before he walked over to the stall you were in and stood by the bed.

“Hey. Police are at your house. Neighbor said they saw a silver pickup parked down the street. Seemed shady. It was gone by the time they got there,” he said.

“Course it was,” you mumbled.

“You more with it again?” he asked.

“Yeah. Feel really tired is all,” you said.

“Well I called your manager. He said he’d be here soon so I’m gonna head out,” he said.

“Huh?” you said, sitting up as he started to leave. “Wait.”

“Last I remember, you fired me. Nothing has changed,” he said. “Goodnight.”

“Wait,” you said, grabbing his wrist, the effort taking more energy than you were anticipating. He didn’t shrug you off, instead gently setting your hand back in your lap and pushing you to lay back down.

“You should rest. There’s a cop outside the room,” he said.

“Stop. Just...sit down,” you said. He sighed but sat on the edge of the bed, raising an eyebrow. “How could somebody already know where I moved? Hardly anyone knows.”

“You rent a moving truck?” he asked.

“Yeah. Movers did the furniture,” you said. He shrugged and you shut your eyes. “The movers?”

“No, probably not them. But that truck probably has GPS for mileage tracking and if this person has your credit card info, they could figure it out,” he said. “The food thing probably happened back at the restaurant you ordered from. Somebody slips in the backdoor, puts some stuff on your food and slips back out.”

“What’s your suggestion?”

“I don’t work for you anymore.”

“Let’s pretend earlier didn’t happen. Please,” you said. “I can’t...I can’t be alone right now and something feels really off about this whole thing.”

“This whole thing has felt off the second Jared told me about it. Tonight just further proved that point,” he said.

“You were in the army longer than he was, right?”

“He decided to retire, go be a cop. I stayed in. Worked on a few more specialized skills a bit longer before I left and got in this line of work,” he said.

“I’m going to assume you know what you’re doing then.”

“Yeah. I know what I’m doing. I can’t guarantee anything but I can give you some pretty damn good odds,” he said. He stared at you for a moment and looked you over. “You’re smarter than the stereotypical actress I pegged you for.”

“It had to have been someone on my team or that’s close to me in order to know that I was moving,” you said. “Or else the person never would have known to look today.”

“Someone that knows your go to takeout place too. You need to be extremely careful about who you trust right now,” he said.

“I trust Jared and Gen,” you said.

“I trust the guy with my life. I’d trust him with yours. Gen is fiesty when you piss her off but you’re her best friend. They didn’t do this.”

“Your expert opinion, what’s my next move?” you asked. He rubbed the back of his neck and made a face. “Jensen.”

“Ideally? You go off grid. I mean off grid, off grid. Middle of nowhere, no one knows where exactly. Cut yourself off and it’d give us more time to figure out who this person is and what exactly it is they want with you. If they’re as close as we think they are, they’ll find a way to sneak in again and next time, it might be my food that’s drugged. It’s a big risk to go back to the house.”

“I can’t go be alone though. What if they did find me somehow?” you asked.

“I said off grid. I didn’t say alone,” he said. “It’s an extreme approach, I’ll give you that. But it gives me more time to work on this and it’ll keep you safe.”

“Why not hire a bunch of guys to stay around me all the time?”

“Because you’re still in danger if you stay in LA and I don’t have the ability to check that many guys out. I got guys I know I can trust but they’re all over the country and the only other one here is Jared and Gen needs him. No offense but she’s got a kid with another on the way. More bodies means more priority,” he said.

“No, no. Please keep them safe too. If it’s a fan of the show, they could be in the same situation,” you said.

“I’m not going to try and tell you what to do because obviously, you weren’t a fan of me doing that before. But if you want to be able to sleep safely at night, we need to go, just you and me. Jared and Gen can know but that’s it and I mean that’s it. I can secure a safe place and everything we’ll need. But it’s going to be a drastic lifestyle change.”

“How drastic?”

“Like no internet and our electricity will run off a generator drastic.”

“If I stay here?”

“I give it a week tops before they try something again,” he said.

“We wrapped two weeks back and since Gen’s pregnant, we aren’t slated to start filming for another seven months. I’ll have to cancel some events but if I was ever going to go off grid, now’s the time to do it.”

“I will get it arranged. Do not speak a word of this to anyone,” he said.

“Jensen,” you said as he stood. “What was that back at the house? You acting all aggressive like that?”

“The last client I had, I was lenient, never taught them anything, let them push me around and dictate how I worked. They got put in a bad situation because of that. If you don’t take this seriously, then what’s the point of me being here.”

“Well wherever we go, I’m gonna need a few things. Women stuff,” you said.

“Make a list and tomorrow, pack a bag,” he said. “I want us on the road tomorrow night. I don’t care what you tell your team about why you’ll be MIA. Just tell them something so we don’t get a missing persons report on you.”

“Alright,” you said, Jensen nodding and starting to leave. “Wait. Where are you going?”

“I need to start preparing. Like I said, there’s a police officer by the door.”

You stared at him and he took a deep breath.

“How about he stays in the room with you until we’re ready to go home and get what we need, okay?” he said.

“Okay,” you said.

“Hang tight. When you’re up for it, we’ll get out of here.”

_____

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #au #bodyguard!AU #bodyguard!jensen #bodyguard!jensen x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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honey-milk-depresso · 3 years

Text

Meanie (Azul Ashengrotto x Reader)

SORRY TWST COMMUNTITY TRYING TO GET AS MANY DRAFT ELIMINATED AS POSSIBLE SORRY FOR BLASTING SHIT IN YOUR FACE BUT LIKE HOPE YOU ENJOY PLEASE DON’T KILL ME-

Based on a manga I think you know when you read it-

I suck I know-

Warning: Slight under aged drinking but it’s purely fluff, nothing serious.

Part 1

part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8 (END)

“Sevens, y/n. What do you want?”

“A hang out! At the VIP room!”

“You know how much that’s going to cost you right? You don’t have much on you.”

“Yeah, yeah I know but, I spend it on my friend!”

“You’re paying me.”

“Exactly!”

Azul sighed in irritation. He can never get enough of you, can he?

“Fine.”

“YES!! I’ll bring some things along!”

=====================================================

“You got to be kidding me..”

Lying on the table, there were an assortment of chips, soft drinks, sweet snacks and to top it all off, a bottle of plum wine.

“Y/n, you shouldn’t be drinking. You’re under aged.”

You laughed heartily. “Don’t worry! It’s only once in a while! Besides, I really like plum wine! I’m not drinking it for the sake of looking cool! Ahehehe~!”

He sighed, putting his hat and jacket suit by the table and plopping himself on the couch, leaving him with his white collared shirt with his sleeves rolled up and pants.

He cringed slightly as all the snacks were unhealthy.

“Couldn’t you have bring snacks of healthier options?”

“Azul, you should treat yourself every once in a while. Being healthy is good, but you can eat junk just once! Besides, it’s a happy occasion!”

“You do this at least twice a week.”

“Not at night or with snacks.”

“True..”

He saw you stuff chips in your mouth in one goal, like a rapid animal.

“Geez, y/n eat slowly. You might choke.”

“Awww, does Azul care for me~?”

“I don’t want a dead body filled with chips in the VIP lounge.”

“So mean!!”

He smiled a little. Your outgoing and cheerful attitude annoyed him at times, but he still couldn’t help but smile at how endearing you could be.

“Geez, you eat like it’s the end of your world.”

Ah.

You took out a pack of poker cards and slam it on the table.

“LET’S PLAY!”

“SEVENS, Y/N! JUST PUT IT DOWN LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN AND NOT TREAT YOUR CARDS LIKE A HAMMER-”

“Well geez, sorry.”

You took the cards out and began shuffling them, clearing the snacks to one side and spreading the cards in a circle.

“Alright, the rules are simple: You can’t quit in the middle!”

“Well, obviously.”

You had always bring about weird games to play. Like the time you played with 2 chess boards for no reason. One to play chess and one to play checkers, then if you get to take one chess or checker piece away, you had to do math question on your assignment, both of which you lost, and had to do the homework yourself. So this isn’t new to him. Maybe you’ll pull out your magic history homework.

“Alright just pick a card!”

“I got the twelve of spades.”

“HAH! QUEEN OF HEARTS!!”

“You don’t have to yell.”

“Now, since I have the larger number, I’ll ask you truth or dare!”

“So, truth or dare??”

“Truth.”

“So~ Do you think Idia or Jade is more handsome to you?~”

He nearly spit out the canned grape juice he was drinking.

“W-what type of question is that?!”

“Those are the rules! If you don’t want to answer a question you pick “dare”! And with “dare”, I’ll make you do something and you can’t quit or complain!”

This is the game of the devil, he thought. What is worse? Answering your ridiculous question or doing you ridiculous “dare”?

Screw it. Better answer than do it, right?

“I’ll stick with truth...”

“Okay! So.. Idia or Jade is handsome to you??”

“......Idia..?”

“Oooh, really ? I thought Jade was pretty handsome himself though. Ah well!”

For some reason, he felt a little irritated when you said Jade was handsome.

“Moving along!”

You two pick your cards.

“Hmm~ five of diamonds? I got twelve of clovers!~~”

“Oh goodness..”

How is he having this much of bad luck today? He’s thinking you shuffled the cards in your favor.

A little flustered due to the plum wine, you slurred a little with the next question.

“Truth or dare??”

“Truth.”

“If Idia was a girl, and she’d be the prettiest girl in NRC, and everyone else are girls, where would I be ranked in looks?”

“What?”

“ANSWER MEEEE~”

“Second.”

“H-heh???” Now you were very flustered.

“So I am pretty to you??? Aww you’re so sweet, Azul!!”

“That’s because I can never imagine NRC being a girls’ school.”

“I-”

=====================================================

“Huh??? Aw man I got two of spades!”

“Twelve of hearts.”

“Oh no..”

Well looks like the tables have finally turned.

After answering your many ridiculous dares, it’s finally his turn. By now he can tell you’re very drunk. You weren’t think straight and you were slurring and getting flustered a lot.

“Truth or dare.”

“TRUTH!”

He paused to think for a while on what he wanted to ask you.

“Have you ever had a first kiss?”

“HuH?? WHAT? ”

“Silence fool.”

“MEANIE!!”

“But... No I haven’t. Wonder who would wanna kiss me~~?”

“Your lips would reek plum wine, I don’t think anyone would.”

“HEY AZULLL I THOUGHT WE WERE FREINDSSS!!!”

He smiled.

“I’m just joking.”

=============================================================

“Hehehehe~ Truth or dare??~~”

“...dare.”

He said hesitantly. It’s been what? 9 to 11 rounds already and you only had truths, while you complained all his questions were like job interview questions.

“Ohohoho~ Well then,” you spread your arms open, “carry meee to beddd~~”

He blanked. His face was unreadable.

“Hey! Carry-”

Suddenly, you felt your entire body being lifted from the couch. Azul was carrying you bridal style close to his chest. You felt his steady heartbeat and you couldn’t help but blush at the sudden contact.

He went over to the secret guest bedroom and plopped you down on the bed.

“I’ll make sure you’ll go back to Ramshackle tomorrow. It’s a weekend anyways.”

You buried your face in your hands as you squirmed, giggling.

“Ehehehehe~~ That really surprised me! Thank you, Azul!~~”

“Okay, Azul! Pick a card for me.”

“It’s getting very late.”

“But like what you said tomorrow is the weekend!!!!”

“Still. You should be sleeping.”

“Okay! One last dare! I promise!”

He sighed. “Fine.”

He picked a card.

“What did I get??”

“King of Spades.”

“Oooh~ What did you get???”

He picked a card. “Three clovers.”

“Hmmm~ My turn then! This one would be truth only!”

You paused and he heard the blankets being ruffled as you shifted to a different position.

“If I said.. I was really scared of dying, what would you do?”

He swerved his head to look at you, his eyes scanning you.

You were completely calm that it scared him.

“Nonsense, you aren’t going to die.”

Right?

“Aheheheh~ Well I’m super tired! You should go to sleep too!”

He off the lights, the only light shining now was the lamp beside your bed on the night stand.

“Call me when you wake up. I’ll be in my room.”

“Got it~!”

And he closed the door.

To be continued..

=========================

HEYA FOLKS WANT ME TO DO PART 2??? Just reblog or request I don’t know I-

I died.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland azul #twst azul #twst azul x reader #twisted wonderland azul x reader #octavinelle #octavinelle x reader

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babbushka · 3 years

Text

A December To Remember

Lawyer!Kylo Ren x Reader

4.1k, cw: Possessive behavior; name-calling; unwanted advances from another man; NSFW (Rivals/rival relationship/enemy lovers, PIV, fingering, semi-public sex/office sex)

Available on AO3

------------------------

When the elevator doors open, Kylo has to physically brace himself. He had heard the music blasting from seven floors away, his discomfort only growing bigger and bigger as the elevator ticked up up up to Gwen’s lobby. His hands clench into fists in his leather gloves, refusing to take them off.

He wasn’t going to be here long, he promises himself as a conga line of santa hats nearly steps on his Allen-Edmonds; he just needed to show his face, have a drink, and get out. The office is all geared up for Christmas, Kylo walks through the winter wonderland of flocked trees decorated in white and gold, garland wrapped around support poles, big faux presents arranged nicely. There’s a live band and although they played well, the music is a bit much, as are the people singing along. Kylo tunes it out to the best of his ability, on a mission, a hunt.

One thing he can at least appreciate, was that this was a cocktail party, which meant everyone was dressed up nicely. Kylo loves an excuse to bring out his expensive suits, Burberry sitting nicely on his broad shoulders. No one could say he didn’t try to be festive – he had put on a black tuxedo made of soft mohair wool, that happened to have a saucy lapel of black satin for some holiday flair.

As he walks through the crowds of attorneys who Kylo has never seen laugh and smile so much in his career, someone hands him a peppermintini. It’s not long before he feels a tap on his shoulder, and he nearly spills the cocktail by whirling around, thinking that at last, he’s found you.

He has half a mind to smile, but whatever he had thought of saying goes out the window when he sees it is not you, but rather it’s his friend Gwen. She’s gorgeous in a silver slinky number that dips down her muscled back very low, and Kylo leans in to press his cheek against hers in greeting.

“Well well well, look who actually decided to show up.” Gwen nearly has to shout to be heard over the volume of the party.

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, takes a sip of the offending holiday cocktail – where the fuck could a guy get some whiskey around here?

“I was invited, wasn’t I?” Kylo replies, even though he’s not really looking at her. Gwen is probably the only person he knows who is as tall as him, and tonight she’s wearing heels which make her actually a few inches taller.

“Yes, but I’ve seen the stack of unopened invitations sitting on your desk.” She snaps her fingers in front of his face, drawing his attention back to her for the time being as she raises a platinum blonde brow, “Let’s not you and I pretend that you’re here because you want to enjoy the cheer of the holiday.”

The both of them exchange a little huff of laughter, because really she was right. Kylo is here because he had heard through the grapevine that you had RSVP’d, and there was nothing that could have prevented Kylo coming to see you if that were true.

“I’ve been informed that it is appropriate to make appearances now and again, even brief ones.” He sighs into his drink, nose crinkling at the sheer minty-ness of it.

“You can’t leave you just got here!” Gwen groans, “Stay for a little while, there’s some people who want to talk to you.”

“Whether or not I stay is contingent to one thing.” He shakes his head with a grimace, and at this Gwen’s sharp eyes sparkle with the light of knowing his secret.

“I last saw her over by the buffet.” Gwen sips her own cocktail, speaking lowly enough so that only he can hear, not like anyone is listening.

“I don’t know who you mean.” Kylo’s palms immediately begin to sweat inside his gloves, and he fixes the wall a hard stare to avoid that knowing look in her eye.

“Between you and me, I’m surprised she showed up just as much as I am that you did.” Gwen scoffs, and that at the very least was something Kylo understood.

As difficult as it was trying to pin Kylo down for something as unsavory as a Christmas party, you were notoriously hard to convince to come to anything for the holidays if you didn’t feel like it. It was one of the things that Kylo appreciated about you – not that Kylo liked you, or anything.

He shakes the thought away from his head.

“But you’re sure she’s here?” Kylo asks, an intensity to his question that has Gwen laughing.

“Yes – and do try not to make a scene.” She pats him on the back, before sauntering away to go entertain.

“What’s a Christmas party without a little scandal?” Kylo mutters to himself, trying to figure out which way the food was.

He recognizes people from six or seven different law firms as he tries to cut his way through the party. Gwen hadn’t been joking, about a dozen men in suits shake his hand and introduce themselves, congratulating him on winning his most recent case. Interns have stars in their eyes when he passes, and Kylo tries his best not to be such a grinch to their faces.

At this rate, he’s starting to get frustrated and irritated, he still hasn’t found you. The peppermintini was long finished, and he didn’t ask for a refill when he passed the bar. The entire outing was shaping up to be a waste, and Kylo is about ready to give up when he finally catches a whiff of your perfume.

“…That’s nice.” He hears your disinterested voice pipe up from a spot on the other end of the lobby where he has wandered, and Kylo lets himself be led to you, using his height to search for you in the jovial crowd.

Some schmuck is trying to herd you in the direction of where a big sprig of mistletoe has been tied under a doorframe, and the minute Kylo sees it happening, jealousy and rage simmer up straight up his spine.

“Isn’t it? I got the sonofabitch off a ten-year sentence. He was absolutely guilty but, that’s not my problem anymore.” A handsome pretty boy with perfectly straight teeth that are practically fluorescent from how white they are tries dazzling you.

“Uh huh.” You sound like you could not care less, and that for some reason only makes Kylo angrier – couldn’t this boy see that you weren’t interested?

Kylo tries to say his excuse me and his pardon mes, as he winds through the lobby on his mission to you. It’s difficult, because you won’t stay still for fucks sake, so every time Kylo thinks he’s just about gotten to you, you take a sharp turn to try and lose the boy’s unwanted attention.

“So anyway I was thinking to celebrate, maybe you can come back to mine after this shindig gets wrapped up.” He says, slipping an arm around your waist.

Kylo’s blood boils.

“Excuse me?” Your tone shifts dramatically, from uninterested to offended at his presumptions. Your body stiffens up at once, and that arm drops from your waist like he’s been electrocuted.

“I brought my own car and everything, we don’t even have to take the subway.” The boy tries to impress you, but you’re having none of it.

“I don’t think so, I have no intentions on going anywhere with you.” You shut his advances down, “Tonight, or any night.”

This angers the boy, which in turn makes Kylo see red, and he doesn’t even realize that he’s literally shoving himself in between happy couples and groups of cheerful friends to close that last bit of distance between you and him.

“Well then what the hell have you been doing this entire time, leading me on like this?” The boy reaches out to grasp harshly around your wrist when you try and make your leave, “Hey – !”

“She said no.” Kylo’s voice is dark and dangerous as he appears behind the boy, who drops your wrist at once.

“Kylo?” The sound of his name on your lips is enough to keep him from killing this boy in a blind rage, and his eyes flick to you in a very curt greeting.

“Listen to me -- and listen to me carefully.” Kylo looms over this lesser attorney, casting a shadow over the boy’s face from the sheer breadth of him, “I am going to close my eyes and count to three. If you are still here bothering this woman when I open them again, I will reach down your throat and rip your lungs out through your mouth and I will make it look like an accident. Understand?”

“Y-yes.” The boy stammers out, nearly chokes.

“Yes what?” Kylo sneers, jaw clenched.

“Yes sir!” He squeaks in terror -- Kylo doesn’t even have to close his eyes before the boy is scrambling away, and everyone around you is snickering at how he’s gone bright red in the face as he leaves the party entirely.

Now that that was taken care of, Kylo holds a hand out for you, which you take automatically. He would never admit to it, but the feeling of your palm against his has him calm almost at once.

“You have to stop doing that, you know.” You say, as Kylo leads you away from the crowded party of the lobby, and out towards the big balcony.

It’s cold outside, the past few days bringing a light dusting of snow, but you don’t seem to mind. You’ve got a fur stole wrapped around your shoulders to keep you warm. Even out here has been decorated to match the Christmas spirit, with twinkling lights covering every available surface.

“Oh but it’s so fun to watch them squirm.” He smiles, pulling you close to him as the two of you rest against the railing.

“No, not that,” You shake your head, “I mean rescuing me. I can handle myself.”

“I know you can, but again, where would be the fun in that?” Kylo only winks, and you lightly smack his arm.

You’re about to say something, when you notice that dangling above both of your heads is a bit of mistletoe, tied together with a red velvet ribbon. It spins ever so gently in the slight breeze from being so high up, and you nudge Kylo’s hand on the railing with your own.

“Look.” You whisper, and Kylo looks up too.

“Now who put that there…?” He grins smooth as ever, as he ducks his head down and kisses you.

Kissing you was rapidly becoming one of Kylo’s favorite pastimes. It was too bad you were such a fucking pain in his side most of the time, if you weren’t so stubborn and difficult, he’s sure you’d spend a lot more time kissing each other.

But then again, you are stubborn and difficult, and you have no intention of stopping. Kylo hates that about you, hates how upset it makes him. No one gets under his skin the way you do, and so he pays you back by giving you the best kiss of your life – that’ll show you.

Your mouth parts for his, eyes closed. Your breaths come out in little sighs, and Kylo feels his body reacting to it. He hasn’t been able to get a good look at you all evening, but when he does, he loves what he sees. You’re wearing a dress in a color that perfectly compliments your skin, in a shape that fits your body exactly how you like it to.

His hands grasp at your hips a little too tightly, making you nip at his lower lip with a teasing smirk.

Christmas has never been something Kylo cared remotely about, but he’s big enough to admit that the lights really do wonders for making you look like a goddamned movie star. You both pull away enough just in case someone were to look out the window or come onto the balcony and see – neither of you could really have that, it was bad enough that there were bets about you through the different firms, the last thing you needed was to let any one side win.

“It’s criminal, how good you look.” Kylo tugs on the fabric of your neckline, “Someone ought to do something about it.”

“Hmm, like what?” You play along, your hand reaching down down down and grasping a hold of Kylo’s cock, ever so briefly, giving in a squeeze.

“Bend you over and fuck you hard, just the way you deserve.” He presses his mouth against your ear, he can practically hear your heartbeat picking up.

“Too bad you scared off poor Mike,” You say with a tsk of your tongue against the roof of your mouth, “I bet he would’ve loved to do the honors.”

Mike, that was the schmucks name? Kylo had almost forgotten entirely about him, about the way he had put his hands on you without your permission. He would make a couple calls, get the kid fired.

Or demoted, at the very least.

He wasn’t sure yet.

“You want to get me mad, is that it? And here we were having such a nice time.” Kylo looks around again, makes sure no one is seeing anything that’s happening out there on the balcony as he snakes a hand up up up your thigh.

“Maybe I like it when you’re mad, maybe I know you’re going to show me a real good time.” You smirk, and Kylo is reminded why he hates you so much, you’re so spoiled, getting whatever you want whenever you want it.

“Such a fucking brat.” He snaps, hand reaching for your and tugging you back through the doors with a, “Come with me.”

Kylo is faced with the party once again and is trying to find the best way to get the fuck out of there, when you pull him in a different direction.

“No – I know a spot, this way.” You bite back a pleased grin, and Kylo has to roll his eyes, letting you lead the way.

Deep deep deep in the bowels of the office, far away from the lobby and all the festivities, the music sounds a million miles away. You’ve tugged Kylo into a conference room with big glass walls and a glass door, like a little zoo enclosure. It’s nearly pitch black, none of the lights are turned on. The only illumination is from the city outside, the ambient glow of New York beginning their celebration of Christmas. The Rockefeller tree shines brightly a few blocks down the road, a perfect view from this conference room.

Fleetingly, Kylo has half a mind to ask you to go ice skating, but then you’re hopping up on the table and spreading your legs, the skirt of your dress hiked up around your hips. You’re not wearing any panties, a pair of thigh garters holding up your stockings – and Kylo’s mind goes blank.

“Aren’t you cold?” He asks, immediately pushing you farther up the table, wanting a better view of your pussy as your thighs rub together from being so exposed.

“Yes,” You admit licking your lips, “But you’ll warm me up, won’t you?”

Kylo groans, bites off his gloves with his teeth, wastes no time in trailing his fingertips through your folds. You squirm at the touch, wanting to be filled by him, any way you could get it. He dips them deeper between your legs, nothing but the sound of your breathing filling the quiet of the room.

“Slut, god what a fucking slut you are – look at you, pussy already wet for me.” Kylo grits out between his teeth, his cock filling out in his expensive trousers, straining against his briefs.

His fingers seek the wet heat of your cunt, and he pumps them in and out slowly while he tries undoing the buckle of his belt. Your hands help him, your legs falling open farther as his fingers bury themselves in your pussy. The stretch is beautiful, and you moan, leaning back until you’re resting on the table fully.

“Are you going to talk? Or are you going to fuck me?” You challenge from your spot on the table, your hands rubbing up and down your stomach, hips lifting so he can finger you a little faster.

“Both, I can do both, fuck you’re sexy.” He huffs, unbuttons his suit jacket, shucks down his trousers and briefs enough to pull his cock out and give it a good few strokes with the hand that’s not thrusting in and out of your cunt, blunt nails dragging against your walls.

“I know.” You’re full of yourself – full of Kylo – and you moan from the thought, “Hurry up, someone could catch us.”

“No they can’t, I locked the door. It’s just you and me sweetheart – thaaaat’s it.” Kylo replaces his fingers with his cock, your folds swallowing him down, oozing and dripping slick all over your thighs.

He shoves in roughly once he’s got the head in, pushes into you in one fluid motion that has your back arching. Kylo grabs at your legs, is careful of your heels as he pins your ankles together and tucks them against his shoulder, your body pressed together as he begins to thrust in earnest.

“Yes! Fucking finally,” Your palms smear sweat on the polished wood of the conference table, and before he knows it, you’re pulling one hand up to lightly smack at his arm. “You know I’ve been waiting here for you for two fucking hours, you asshole.”

Only you could give him such an icy glare while also pushing your tits up for him to play with. Kylo reaches out to pinch hard at one of your nipples, and you whine, your thighs trembling just a little from being held up like this.

Kylo’s big fat cock stuffs you full, your pussy even tighter from having your legs pressed together like this. Normally he likes to look down and watch his dick disappear into you, but he can barely see your face as it is in the dark of the room, so he doesn’t mind. Besides, he can feel you – can feel the way you throb and pulse around him, how you flutter and clench, and it’s enough.

“If I had known – damn you’re tight – you’d be here – fuck (Y/N) – I would’ve come earlier.” Kylo latches himself to your neck, bending you nearly in half as his hips speed up, his balls smacking against your ass as he pushes you up up up the table.

“I – ah Kylo be careful,” You warn him when one of your shoes falls right off your foot and lands on the wood with a thud. He rips the other one off and throws it to the floor, leaving your legs in nothing but the stockings and garters. Your hand tangles in his hair as you press him back down to your throat, where he sucks and bites at your skin. “I don’t know why you couldn’t just fucking call me back. We – oh yes, yes harder come on – we could’ve avoided all this bullshit.”

“You’re the one who hung up on me last time!” Kylo pulls himself more upright, scowling down at you as he grabs your face, gives your jaw a little shake.

“Oh!!” Your body tenses up unexpectedly, his cock accidentally slipping out and pushing back in wrong.

Kylo fumbles just a little bit in the dark, lets your legs fall as he tries to fix the angle, tries to get himself back inside your pussy as quickly as he can. It just feels wrong to not fuck you, it feels wrong to not be joined with you as completely as possible. Even when you’re scowling at him and he’s glowering right back at you – maybe especially then.

“Relax for me?” Kylo strokes your hip with his thumb, and your body gives way for him once again, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pushes back in and continues fucking you exactly like you like it, “There we go, anyway you wouldn’t have answered me.”

“Could’ve – faster Kylo, you could’ve left a voicemail.” You hiccup, and he hates that you’re right.

He hates it as your body opens up for him, takes him, takes the fucking. You’re such a fucking princess you make him do all the work with a big smug grin on your face before he shifts his hips just right in a way that’s got your eyes rolled back into your head, mouth dropped open. He grabs your jaw again and makes out with you, wants his tongue on yours, wants your teeth scraping against his.

“Sure – fuck you, ugh fuck, I’m – ” Kylo can barely get the words out, kissing you and fucking you in the dark and quiet like this, while everyone enjoys the party just beyond the locked door of the open floor plan of cubicles.

“Me too,” You nod, desperate for him, wanting to come so badly that you twine your fingers into his hair and tug sharply, voice breathy and high and panting as you demand, “Kylo more – !”

He gives it to you, plows his cock into you so hard that he pushes the table askew, makes the chairs on their rolling wheels move all over the place from the effort of it. He bites down hard onto your neck and rubs your clit, rolls it between his fingers while his cock forces itself as deep as it can go, shallow thrusts to fill you up all the way, pushing right up against your cervix, making you yelp out your orgasm.

Feeling your cunt throb and gush for him, Kylo comes soon after, pumping himself in and out mindlessly, the both of you reveling in your pleasure. With a weak shaking hand, you tug down the sleeves of the bodice of your dress, let it fall away from your breasts. Like a moth to flame, Kylo is drawn to your cleavage, and he wastes no time pulling one of your tits out of the pretty lacy bra you’ve got on.

He sucks and kisses at your flesh as his cock pulses and spills more come into you, the both of you trying to catch your breath. He spares a glance up to you, pleased to see you’re fucked out nicely, eyes closed, lips parted and drooling just a little onto your cheek as you’ve got your face turned to one side. Kylo lets his eyes close too, mouths at your nipple until he’s sure he’s emptied himself inside of your wanting cunt.

Then, when he pulls you to sit upright on the table, instead of helping you with your clothes or even cleaning up the mess between your thighs, he stays buried inside of you and fishes his phone out from the inside of his jacket pocket.

“What are you doing?” You ask with a nosy frown, trying to lean around his big hand and see what he’s pulling up on his phone.

Kylo just kisses you quiet, dials the phone and puts it up to his ear while it rings.

“Calling the car to come pick us up and take us back to my place,” He murmurs against the corner of your mouth, before cracking the joints in his neck and grumbling, “Unless you’d rather mingle with a hundred boring nobodies like Mike instead.”

You just scrub a hand down your face with a smile, try to start fixing your hair back to something less mussed.

“I’m starving, can we pick up takeout on the way?” You stretch, wincing when Kylo finally does pull out of you, the feeling of being empty making you grimace just a bit.

He chuckles and kisses you again, lets your arms slip around his neck without any protest.

“Whatever you want.” Kylo kisses your cheek, diverting his attention to the phone call once his driver picks up.

Though the holidays had you at one another’s throats like rabid vicious dogs most days, Kylo wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. Because for all the bitching and bickering, there were moments like these. Moments in the dark where you both let yourselves have what it was that you wanted.

And who knew, maybe the new year would bring about a whole new set of opportunities and possibilities, you’d just have to wait and see. One thing was for sure though, Kylo thinks as he helps you off the table and you both search for some tissues or something to wipe up the mess you’ve made, it certainly was a December to remember.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren/you #kylo ren smut #kylo ren fanfiction #adam driver fanfic #adcu #my writing #modern kylo ren #lawyer au #lawyer!kylo ren

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jeankirstein4ever · 3 years

Text

The love I paid for : Strippers and Shiganshina

+ Pairing : Modern!Eren x reader

+ Genre/ warnings : Modern au, Hard core smut Low-key smut , angst , fluff. Tw alcohol use, cursing , drug abuse strippers and sexual topics.

+ Word Count : 1.53k

(Erens Pov)

"I can't believe you Eren, you fucking cheated." "It was just one time Mikasa," She was looking at him, disbelief burned into her face. "Do you even hear yourself right now? It doesn't matter if it was just one time", the sarcasm in her words evident. "You still cheated on me, you fucking scum." "Okay, and what do you want me to do about it", sounding bored and somewhat nonchalant. "I-I you're unbelievable you know what we're done. I'm sick of this, I'm sick of your bullshit and being treated like crap by you."

He finally turned his full attention towards her and away from his computer, "Fine but on your way out I need you to pack your things", his voice cold and flat. She was stunned. "You're firing me?" "It's in your contract darling, I'm the reason you have this job if you lose me you lose this job."

"You know what, that's fine I don't care, You're a dick and a shit boss anyway. "Mhm'', he said, returning back to the paperwork in front of him. Mikasa turned sharply, her heels squeaking against the cold tile floor, slamming the door on her way out. Only a few minutes later Jean slowly opened the door, "What was that all about?" "She broke up with me." "Jesus, Jaeger. I'm so sorry man." "it's fine don't worry about it, but I do need your help hiring a new assistant. "Oh come on really", Jean slumped down in the leather seat in front of Eren. Eren looked at him with a quizzical expression on his face. "I just mean that's all you care about, you just got dumped by a girl you've dated for five years and your first thought is getting a new assistant." "Your point being?" "you need to take some time for yourself or do something other than work." "Shouldn't you be doing something other than giving me relationship advice? " "No, I shouldn't come on. After work me, you, Armin, Connie, Levi, and Erwin should go out and get drinks." "No." "Come on man, it's Friday night, and you have literally no reason not to." "I have a corporate brunch tomorrow."

"Oh bullshit, come on Eren. Come out with us, we'll get drinks and it'll be fun." Eren looked at Jean knowing that he wouldn't stop bothering him until he agreed. "Fine but if anyone gets wasted I'm not driving anyone home." Jean tried to hide the growing smirk but based on the death glare provided by Eren he realized he fucked up. "Jean-" "I'm leaving, I'm leaving." Just as Eren heard the soft click of the door his phone rang, echoing in his office.

"Yes?" "Hey Eren, it's Monica." Her velvety voice made Eren freeze, "How did you get my number?" "Elliot gave it to me. So when are we meeting again dear?" "Never, don't you ever come near me. I-" "Aww come on I heard that that plank of wood you were dating dumped you. You've got no reason to not visit me." "She wasn't a plank of wood", Erens's words mumbled harshly under his breath. "As I told you what we did was and will remain a one-time thing" "Uh, huh. Darling I-" "Goodbye Monica'', then he hung up.

The rest of the day proceeded, as usual, with endless paperwork and meetings. The idea of sleep was more alluring than anything else on the planet but Eren was a man of his word and he pretty much promised to go out drinking. So when Jean and the rest of those who agreed to go knocked on his door, he reluctantly collected his things and left with them.

"So where exactly are we going?" "There's a bar on 47th and then a few blocks away there's a Strip club" Jean answered Armin's question in a sing-songy voice only to be cut off by Eren. "We are not going to a strip club." "Aww come on Eren let loose a bit" "We're not going to a strip club jean", Eren repeated firmly. "Jesus I forgot how scary you are when you're angry." We're gonna have to take separate cars since there's six of us", Jean said as they descended the elevator.

"Why not just take someone's car", prompted Armin. "I plan on getting wasted tonight, I mean I think we're all getting drunk right?, he looked around at the group. They went silent. "Awww come on guys, it's no fun if you guys don't drink." "You don't have to get wasted to have fun, I think you just have a problem", Piped Connie. Jean proceeded to death glare Connie until they got to the parking garage.

After a few moments of bickering mainly between Connie, Armin and jean they decided on getting a cab. So when the cab got there they squished into the car, Armin was practically sitting in Connie's lap, "I still don't understand why we can't just get another cab." His voice was muffled in Armin's back. "Because, brat since you all seem to not understand that in order to use a cab you need to have money to pay the cab driver, I could not afford to pay for all you brats to be seated comfortably." Levi finished a certain snark in his voice. Eren grimaced at Levi's tone, despite the fact that he was Levi's boss he had always slightly feared him. It was only a few minutes drive between the time Jean gave the directions and the time that the cab driver pulled over to let them out into the bar.

Now when Jean had mentioned that he wanted to go out drinking, Eren had in no way envisioned something classy but this, this was on a whole other level of shitty. They were in the Shiganshina District, which was known for their frequent shootings and drug rings. "Why Shiganshina?"Armin questioned, his voice shaky. "Oh, calm down Armin it's not that bad just don't do anything too stupid. "You're one to talk, Jean" Jean snapped his head back at Eren but was silenced by Connie shoving him into the bar, everyone following suit. The outside of the bar was spotless compared to the inside. The carpet flooring was caked in years worth of vomit and alcohol, the occasional spot of blood here and there. "Tch", Levi's face obvious with disgust. "I know it's not the cleanest but it was the closest to the strip club." "We're not going to a strip club." "Uh, huh", Jean pretended not to hear Erens remark and proceeded to sit down in one of the booths before pestering one of the seemingly high waitresses for a round of beers.

Eren had finished 3 beers within the first twenty minutes of them being there but that was nothing compared to the likes of Connie and Jean who had both independently downed eight beers and were working on their ninth. Considering that Eren had only drank a few beers the effects of the alcohol seemed to be working pretty fast, he was starting to feel slightly fuzzy and his thoughts seemed to be muffled under the sound of his heart and the noise of the bar.

Armin was completely trashed on the other hand, Armin as long as Eren had known him was a lightweight, he had only finished one beer and was currently nursing his second but was in a complete array of emotions. For a solid seven minutes he was laughing uncontrollably about seagulls' looks when they fly which turned into him sobbing uncontrollably about how he missed the ocean. Erwin was going on an angry rant about how mismanaged government funding was , Levi sat there silently agreeing with him the whole time.

Despite the fact that it was probably a bad idea, they continued ordering more rounds of beer until Jean began a very drunken speech. "We are brought here in sorrow and in celebration of Eren Jaeger, while he has lost his girlfriend of five years -hic- he has newly entered the dating pool and that's a cause to cheer for." The chaotic overlap of the rest of the men yelling caused the rest of the bar to look over at them. Erwin tried to drunkenly shush the group but that only resulted in them yelling louder at Erwin, "Shut up old man." "Yeah old man." The bartender glared at them, practically yelling at them , "Hey if you assholes don't shut up I'm gonna kick you out." "Yeah Jean." "Thats it all of you out." "Aww come on-" "Now."

Everyone hurried out of the bar careful not to stumble over their own feet. Armin almost face planted into the concrete but luckily Erwin was able to grab him by the back of the shirt. "Well , where do you guys wanna go now?" "Home", whined Armin. Eren felt electric, like there was a fire going on under his skin and he didn't want it to stop, he wasn't ready for it to stop. It was like the words came spilling out of him before he could understand or even think about what he was saying, "Lets go to the strip club."

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blitzturtles · 3 years

Text

Title: Rest

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): GioMis, Background BruAbba; (Platonic) Bruno & Giorno, Abbacchio & Giorno, Bruno & Mista, Bruno & Abbacchio

Summary: “‘m sorry,” Giorno whispers after a moment, startling the two that had thought him asleep.

“Don’t be,” Bucciarati says gently, already heartbroken by the mere prospect of Giorno crying in the bathroom over something he can’t help.

Mista nods, “Yeah, what Bucci said. You didn’t mean to. ‘sides, I’ve done worse. I [got] Abba one time.”

Notes: I have no excuse for this other than that I was sick the other day. TW: past alcoholism (Leone), past child abuse (Giorno), and emeto/vomiting.

There’s no time between Giorno waking up and his stomach rolling violently. He tries to clamp a hand over his mouth and untangle himself from the blankets, but he’s too late. The blankets won’t budge, wrapped as they are around his legs from a night of restless sleep. His stomach heaves again, and all he can do is slap his other hand over his mouth and try to hold back the worst of it.

He fails spectacularly. The majority of it lands in his lap, but some of it ends up across the foot of the bed, too. The burning in his nose and mouth is nothing compared to the panic that begins to build the longer he stares at the mess. He needs to clean it up. Needs to hide the evidence of his mess before--

Giorno shakes his head, tries to clear his thoughts. He’s not being rational. He knows that, but acknowledging that and actually forcing his brain to clear are two entirely different things. He tries, again, to get out of bed, but his hands are shaking in the blankets. His entire torso feels weak, and his legs are telling him that he won’t make it to the bathroom on his own.

An attempt is made, despite himself. Giorno tries to roll the blanket up, but the sheets are clearly just as soiled. He tries to peel them off the bed by moving around the other side to unhook them from the edge of the mattress, but his knees buckle. He barely manages to catch himself, and he’s forced to sit back down on the bed. On the half that he hasn’t completely ruined.

As he sits there and tries to catch his breath, the anxiety continues to build. Everything is a mess. He’s running out of time, and he’ll be found soon enough. So much of his own clothes and skin are covered in sick, and he feels pathetic. (Helpless, useless, tiny-- he’s coming, he’s coming--)

“Giorno?”

The voice startles Giorno into letting out a whimper. He grasps the blankets again, trying to renew his earlier determination, but the nausea is beginning to build back up, rising higher and higher in his throat. He tries once more to cover his mouth, and that’s apparently enough to clue Mista in.

“Oh shit, hold on,” Mista practically dives for the en suite bathroom and comes back out with the trash bin just in time to shove it under Giorno’s nose. He takes a moment to catch his breath before he realizes that Giorno’s hair is loose. He barely bats an eye at the wetness he feels when he collects the blonde curls up into one hand. The Pistols scatter from him, but Giorno doesn’t seem to notice.

“You’re okay, just let it out,” Mista murmurs his gentle assurances. He uses his free hand to rub at Giorno’s back until the worst of it seems to pass and Giorno is gasping for air. Mista sets the bin down beside the bed, off to the side enough that it won’t be knocked away, but close enough that it can be grabbed in an emergency.

Number 5 returns with a hair tie grasped in his hands. He passes it to Mista, who takes it gratefully and ties Giorno’s hair in a loose bun. There’s a knock at the door that alerts him to Bucciarati and Abbacchio’s presence.

“Wait, don’t--” Mista doesn’t have to finish his words before Bucciarati is taking in the scene and putting the pieces together. He turns on his heels, already moving to intercept the others. Giorno goes stiff, but no one else appears around the corner.

Abbacchio closes the door after he steps into the room. “Sick, huh?”

Giorno flinches, and Mista nods, “The Pistols woke me up for a snack. I was gone for like five minutes.”

“Yeah, alright,” Abbacchio rubs at one of his eyes absently, clearly still processing the world around him. His hair is a mess, despite the loose braid, and his eyes are dark around the edges. Both signs that he’s only been awake for a short few minutes. “Let’s get him cleaned up. Can you get him to the bathroom?”

“Yeah, I-” Mista doesn’t know how to explain that he’s hesitant to touch Giorno right now. Everything seems to make him more tense, and getting bunged up like that while he’s already sick can’t be doing him any good. Then again, sitting in his own puke can’t be any better. “I got him.”

“Good, I’ll get the bed.”

“No,” Giorno startles both of them with a voice that sounds pained and fearful, “I can- I’ll get it, let me-”

“No offense, Giogio, but I don’t think you’re in any condition to do that right now,” Mista says with a frown.

“But-”

“Let Mista take care of you, kid. You look like shit.”

Giorno curls tighter on himself, but he nods after a moment. Mista scoops him up, uncaring about the mess that gets on him. That’s what the shower’s for, and the only thing that matters right now is taking care of Giorno.

Mista can hear Abbacchio already moving, stripping the bed, while Bucciarati slips back into the room. The rest of the Pistols float around Bucciarati’s head, yammering away. They don’t seem to be bothering the man, but Mista recalls them anyway.

“Fugo suggested these for any potential fever or pain he’s feeling,” Bucciarati explains as he holds up a bottle of painkillers, “Though taking them on an empty stomach might not be in Giorno’s best interest. Trish is putting something light together. Narancia should be up in a minute with a change of sheets and a new duvet. He’s going to knock, but he’s just leaving them outside the door. Do you need help?”

Abbacchio shakes his head, “Nah, I got this. Been covered in a lot worse.” Never mind the number of times he’s woken up in his own vomit. It’s far more than he can count, and he’s suddenly grateful for the reminder that it hasn’t happened in a very, very long time. The sour smell does nothing good for his stomach, but it’s manageable.

The knock at the door comes before Bucciarati can respond. He cracks it open to find Narancia still standing there. A tinge of irritation spreads through him before Narancia speaks,

“Is he okay?”

Bucciarati’s expression softens, “He’ll be fine with a bit of rest.”

Narancia nods and passes Bucciarati the new bedding. On top of it is a plastic bag that Bucciarati raises an eyebrow at. “I thought- y’know, to put the old stuff in.”

“Ah,” Bucciarati gives a small smile, “Thank you, Narancia. That was very thoughtful. Would you mind checking on Trish?”

“You got it, B!” Narancia spins on his heels and heads off toward the stairs.

Bucciarati lets out a sigh and turns back to his partner. Between the two, they manage to get the soiled blankets into the garbage bag without too much hassle. The bedding can be washed later, but the priority is getting Giorno back in bed.

The water faucet in the bathroom turns off, cluing Abbacchio and Bucciarati into the fact that they’re out of time, so they quickly place the new sheets and Abbacchio slides out of the room with the excuse that he’s going to go start the laundry. Really, he doesn’t want to be there, making the situation worse, and Bucciarati isn’t about to fight him on it in this particular circumstance. Giorno’s already upset. One less set of eyes on him will ease some of that anxiety, and the two have an odd sort of relationship at times. Abbacchio can be a bit rough around the edges, and Giorno doesn’t always take that well.

“Booch, could you-?” Mista calls from the bathroom, breaking Bucciarati out of his thoughts. He’s moving before Mista can finish the request. He finds the two sitting on the edge of the tub. Giorno mostly leaned into Mista with his eyes closed. They’re red and puffy, and he can imagine what happened in the time he had been busy. He makes his way over to the two.

“Ready to get back in bed?” Bucciarati asks gently. He wants to offer more. To provide some kind of comfort, but he knows that Giorno isn’t always receptive to touch. Mista jerks his head to the side in a way that would be far from subtle if Giorno were more aware. It’s enough to tell Bucciarati what he needs to know, and he finds his fingers in Giorno’s hair, combing through the damp locks gently.

The three stay like that a bit longer before Giorno mumbles a quiet, ‘Bed?’

“Of course,” Bucciarati says without missing a beat. He extracts his fingers and moves to help Mista get Giorno to his feet. It’s a slow trek, but they get there in the end. Giorno crawls into bed shakily, and Mista carefully pulls the towels out from under the covers once Giorno is covered by the duvet.

“‘m sorry,” Giorno whispers after a moment, startling the two that had thought him asleep.

“Don’t be,” Bucciarati says gently, already heartbroken by the mere prospect of Giorno crying in the bathroom over something he can’t help.

Mista nods, “Yeah, what Bucci said. You didn’t mean to. ‘sides, I’ve done worse. I puked on Abba one time.”

Giorno’s eyes widen slightly at that, and he asks, in a small voice, “Really?”

Bucciarati fails to bite back his laugh at the memory, “He really did.”

Giorno seems to take that in and eventually accepts it as the reassurance that it is. His eyes slide shut again, and he mutters a soft, ‘thank you’. The other two don’t know if it’s for the physical or verbal comfort, but they share a look of relief among each other.

“Bucciarati, Trish is at the door,” Number Seven cuts through their thoughts.

(“Didn’t I recall you?” Mista asks as) Bucciarati goes to answer the door, finding a worried Trish with a thermos in hand. “I wasn’t sure if he would actually be up to eating right now, so I went ahead and put it in this. That way it stays warm for a while, and I got some juice,” she holds up a bottle, “Vitamin C is supposed to be good when you’re sick.”

“Thank you, Trish,” Bucciarati says with warmth in his tone. He can tell she’s rambling. Nervous for their Don, no doubt. Keeping everyone else out is sending alarm bells off in their heads, but there’s no helping it. He respects Giorno’s privacy, and they’ll all just have to take Bucciarati at his word that Giorno will be fine.

“Of course! I can- anything else? That I can do, I mean?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m going to head back to bed in a bit, myself. You should get some rest, too.”

“Okay, sure,” Trish hesitates a moment, but she turns to leave without saying anything else.

Bruno deposits both thermos and bottle on the night table next to the bed. Mista’s sat on the edge of the mattress, fingers carding through Giorno’s hair. He looks tense. Lips drawn in a frown and shoulders tight. Drawn up too high.

“Mista,” Bucciarati says the name quiet, yet firm. It’s enough to draw the gunslinger’s attention upward. “You did a good job. He’s going to be fine.”

“I know. It’s-” Mista huffs and runs one of his hands through his own hair, “It’s not that.”

Bucciarati stays quiet, waiting. He suspects he already knows what this is about, but he can see the gears turning in Mista’s head. Can see the debate before,

“He thought- he thought we were going to be mad. About the mess.”

“I know,” Bucciarati says after a moment. He ignores the ache in his chest at the thought. At the implication. “Given how pink he is, he likely has a fever, which means he isn’t thinking very clearly. Old memories-”

“I know that!” Mista winces at the way his own voice sounds. It’s too loud, and he doesn’t want to reawaken Giorno. “Sorry.”

Bucciarati waves a dismissive hand. “No need to be. I understand it can be hard.”

“Just sucks.”

There’s a huff of a laugh from Bucciarati then, “Succinct way of putting it.”

Mista shrugs at him, either because he doesn’t understand or because he does and has nothing else to say.

“See if you can’t get him to take two of these,” Bucciarati reaches for the bottle he set down earlier. “If he falls back to sleep immediately, he can take them on an empty stomach. I don’t think much more is coming up at this point. Then you should try to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, alright,” Mista sighs.

“And let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Mista gives a mock salute, and Bucciarati takes his leave, trusting that the younger will call for him if need be.

Once the door closes behind Bucciarati, Mista climbs back into bed. He shucks his own towel along the way and leaves it on the floor. It’s something that can be cleaned up later. Right now, all he cares about is Giorno.

He reaches for the bottle of pills and the juice left behind by Trish and Bucciarati. “Giogio,” he calls gently, hating to wake him up so soon after he had drifted off, but the pink in his cheeks and the anxiety for a man that Giorno hasn’t seen in years are worrying. They need to bring his fever down, so he prods at Giorno until he groans and cracks his eyes open.

“You can go back to sleep once you take these,” Mista explains as he digs out two pills and places them in Giorno’s palm. He’s about to hand him the juice when Giorno pops the pills in his mouth and swallows them dry. “Okay, that’s- that works.”

Giorno’s eyes slide shut again, and he seems halfway to unconsciousness by the time Mista curls up beside him.

Mista wraps one arm around Giorno loosely and nuzzles his nose against Giorno’s skin. It takes him a while before he feels certain that Giorno won’t be sick again, and it’s then, and only then, that he finally allows himself to drift off.

#giomis #giorno giovanna #guido mista #bruabba #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #leone abbacchio #jjba #jojo's bizzare adventure #jjba part 5 #vento aureo #golden wind #blitzwrites #blitz

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

95. you just witnessed me kill a guy and I have a really, really good reason for it, please don’t call the cops

Sternclay as a super/vigilante au? sfw or nsfw, please!

Here you go! This is NSFW

Content note: this fic contains mentions of murder, serial killers, knives. Brief description of a porn scene with implied dub-con (you can skip from the part where Barclay sees the TV to the next section break). But I included lots of fluff to balance it out.

This is the best hook-up Barclays had in years. Mr. Tall, dark, and handsome has done nothing but compliment him all night, from the fit of his shirt down to his kissing skills. So now that he’s facedown on the bed in this guys brownstone wearing only his boxers, he’s so excited he can barely think.

“Almost ready” a shcck of blinds dropping, “I just need to grab one more thing. Then the fun can start.”

“Can’t wait.” He sighs, shuts his eyes as his date moves across the room. Then the movement stops.

“Who the fu-”

Horrible, sticky warmth spatters the side of his face. Startled, he opens his eyes in time to watch his date fall to the floor, dead. Behind him is a figure in dark clothes with a tactical mask covering his face and a gun with a silencer in his right hand. A figure who has just noticed Barclay is awake.

In five swift, purposeful steps he’s at the bed, and Barclay doesn’t know what to do, whether to bolt for the window or knock the gun away or beg or, or or-

“Are you alright, sir?” The voice coming from the mask is calm and businesslike.

“.........what do you think?” Is the reply his useless brain comes up with.

“You look like you’re in shock. Which is understandable.” A gloved hand touches his face, “shit, I’m sorry, I was hoping none of it would get on you. Here, hold still.” He rifles through a pocket while Barclay’s mind drifts further from his body. Why isn’t he just killing him now? Is this part of some sick game?

“Turn your face this way just a bit” the back of his hand nudges Barclay’s chin, “good, thank you. I’m going to get you cleaned up, once that’s done I need to ask you to stay here until I’m finished cleaning up the scene. And also to not call the authorities for help when I’m out of the room.”

“Why?” Nope, okay, that’s it, that’s the reply that gets him shot.

“For one, you’re not in any danger from me. You were in danger from the now-deceased Mr. Martin, which is why I killed him.”

“I, uh, h-how can you be sure?”

“Let me show you” he helps Barclay up, guides him to the body, “you don’t need to look at him, just at that.”

He’s pointing to the boning knife clutched in the man’s hand. Barclay’s guts turn to sour milk.

“M-maybe he picked that up when he saw you?”

The killer shakes his head, gently guides Barclay back to the bed and, after a moment of studying the nightstand, pulls out the bottom drawer. It contains two more knives, duck tape, pliers, and seven, severed human thumbs.

“Oh fuck. What the fuck, what the fuck?” He whispers as the man closes the drawer.

“Mr. Martin is the Bear Butcher. I doubt you’ve heard of him, because that’s the name the authorities use among themselves while insisting that there’s no need to warn the public about him. He’s killed seven men, all gay and all on the bigger side; you would have been number eight.”

“I’m gonna be sick” He tips forward, feels gloved hands catch him and easily half-drag him into what turns out to be the bathroom.

“Wait here and do what you need to. I’ll be done in fifteen minutes, less if I can manage it. And, um, you might want to keep your eyes closed.”

Barclay has no problem with that order, though when the killer (his hero?) moves the body into the tub he discovers both the reason for the warning and that he does indeed have more in his stomach to throw up.

After an eternity of iron and bleach in the air and bile on his tongue, he’s helped back into the bedroom. The man hands him his clothes, turning his back as he dresses. He’s changed too, though the mask remains.

“I, I didn’t bring my car.” Barclay says weakly, knowing he won’t have the energy to walk home and the thought of getting in a cab or rideshare sets his nerves screaming.

“I assumed, since he wouldn’t want it being abandoned to lead to someone calling you in missing. If you’re okay with it, I can give you a ride home.”

Barclay nods. The man ushers him out the front door, pausing at the threshold for a final sweep. Then he pulls off his mask. Black hair sticks up until he smooths it back in a practiced motion, and blue eyes regard Barclay gently from a handsome face.

“It’s the Altima, right on the corner.” He says, folding the mask and tucking it into his pocket. Barclay gives his address, sits stiffly in the passenger seat as a pop station plays from the speakers.

“Do you want to change the station?”

“No” Barclay inhales fine, but the exhale comes out shaky, “jesus, how are you so calm?”

“Because if I’m trying to help you stay calm, I need to model the behavior. And, um, this isn’t my first time doing this, in case that wasn’t obvious. I’ve never had a witness before, for all the usual reasons and I’d prefer not to traumatize someone. But he went off his pattern and picked you up tonight, and I was not about to let him claim another victim.”

“Thank you.” Barclay doesn’t know what else to say. His adrenaline brain suggests propositioning the man in gratitude because it’s not everyday a hot mystery man saves your life. But the rest of him is well aware that if anyone touched him right now he might scream.

“It’s my job. Or it’s supposed to be.”

His curiosity peeks out from where it’s been hiding behind his sense of self-preservation, “What’s your name? Or can you not tell me?”

“It’s Joseph.”

“Barclay.”

“I wish we’d met under better circumstances, Barclay. Oh, here we are.” He parks the car, engine still running, “do you want me to wait until you’re inside to go?”

It should feel safe; it’s his apartment, his home above Amnesty’s new location, Mama’s own little house just out in the backyard. But his hand can’t make the fucking door handle go.

“Would, uh, would you mind coming up with me? Just, just for a few minutes?”

The man raises his eyebrows, but nods. Soon he’s standing in Barclays little kitchen, hands folded politely behind his back while Barclay tries and fails to start tea.

“If you want to just point to where things are, I can do that for you. You should eat something too, if your stomach’s settled.”

Barclay declines at first, but when his stomach growls Joseph moves through the kitchen--making distracting small talk all the while--not stopping until he’s assembled a plate of crackers, cheese and apples.

“Ooh, you got the good stuff.” He steals a piece for himself while Barclay nibbles a Triscuit

“Kinda a cheese snob; comes with the job.”

They talk about food and food writing until his plate is clear, at which point Joseph suggests he get ready for bed. Without being asked, he stays by the door as Barclay finishes getting changed and brushing his teeth.

“I, uh, I’m not really sure how to, uh, end this night.”

Joseph cups his cheek, “Lock the doors behind me. You don’t need to worry about anything else; you don’t owe me a thing. You’re safe. That’s what matters.” He smiles at him for the last time and heads out into the early morning light.

----------------------------------

“Hey big fella, you’ll never guess who put in an order.” Mama clips up the slip from the table she’s working; Amnesty has been busy in the week since they opened here, so much so that she’s had to help with the crowds.

“Who?” Barclay flips the pancakes he’s watching, checks the bacons for tables 15 and 9.

“Your late night visitor.” Mama winks.

He turns, spots Joseph at the far end of the counter. He’s in a black suit, blue tie setting off his eyes, and his hair is fully slicked back. On his chest is a badge identifying him as working at the nearby FBI offices. He’s clearly as surprised to see Barclay as Barclay is to see him. He’s less surprised that Mama saw him leaving; she gets up early and her window faces his back stairs

“Hold on” Mama nudges him, “did he give you trouble? Because you look pretty off.”

“No, no, just, uh, didn’t expect to see him again.”

Joseph orders hash and poached eggs, and when Barclay sends the order out, he hands Dani a slice of cherry pie to go along with it. He peeks over his shoulder; Joseph is looking at the free dessert, smiling. Then he takes a bite and makes a face that’s borderline orgasmic. Barclay looks away before he drops a hot waffle on his foot.

Amnesty's restaurant closes at 3, and as Barclay is locking the front door, he notices Joseph waiting for him in an easily visible, well-lit spot.

“You know, I meant it when I said you didn’t owe me anything. Not even the most delicious pie I’ve ever eaten.”

“I give freebies now and then” Barclay smiles, “no rule that says I can’t give them to someone who did me a huge fucking favor. And, uh” he blushes, “glad you like the pie.”

“The whole meal was incredible. You’re a very talented cook. Would it be okay if I came back?” His expression is hopeful, almost nervous.

Barclay touches his shoulder, “Anytime.”

-------------------------------------

“So, uh, I’ve haven’t had a chance to ask but, uh, when you’re not working or chatting with me here, what do you do? For, like, fun?” Barclay leans across the counter as Joseph licks his form clean of meringue. Barclay’s gone through twelve different pie recipes in the last month just to see which ones the other man likes best.

“I read a lot, cultivate an extensive knowledge of old horror movies, try to make decent risotto in my apartment...oh, I play frisbee golf sometimes, I picked it up in college.”

“Any interest in seeing that new Godzilla movie? It looks terrible but in a fun way.”

“Oh yeah, I like what I’ve seen of the design they’re using for the kaiju.” He notices Barclays hand resting millimeters for his own. He runs his thumb along Barclays knuckles, “are you asking if I’ll go see it with you, big guy?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’d love to.”

---------------------------------------------

“Holy fuck babe, when you said you were running out to get breakfast I figured you meant, like, McMuffins.”

“Only the best for you, big guy. Consider it a thank you for making dinner last night.” Joseph finishes laying out the donuts from “Holes in One” next to the plate of bagels and lox from the only place that Joseph insists does them right.

Barclay wraps his arms around him, tickling his cheek with his beard, “you’re fucking amazing babe.”

Joseph kisses him, coffee flavored and light, “So are you. Still want to play chess later?”

“Uh huh. Winner gets to blow the loser?”

“I like those terms, Mr. Cobb.”

It’s been like this for the last three months; evenings at the movies or tangled up in bed, mornings in sleepy hazes on the couch or out the eat, days upon days of Joseph spoiling, servicing, and just generally loving the hell out of him.

There are also the nights or, more often, early mornings, when Joseph returns steeped in grim satisfaction. At first he avoided having Barclay over those nights or going to see him the next day. Lately, they’re together so much that it’s unavoidable that Barclay will see the lethal edge lingering in his gaze or rub knots from his shoulders that he knows were earned in some darkened room where horrors had been playing out for weeks, months, even years. He doesn’t shy away from it; he loves Joseph, and that means seeing him clearly, though sometimes what he sees sends chills across his skin. Chills that feel less and less like fear.

They’re out for a walk around the lake, trading bites of gelato, when a question tunnels it’s way to the front of Barclays mind. He waits until they’re sitting on a bench far from any prying ears to ask it.

“What made you decide to, uh, do what you do?”

His boyfriend studies him, then sighs, “A number of things. Fear was the first one; you said you don’t follow true crime, so I’m guessing you don’t know of the Janesville Strangler?”

“Nope.”

“He killed ten young women over the course of three years. He’s also my biological father. Michael Stern is my stepfather and, at my request, my adoptive one as well; my mom remarried as soon as she was sure my father couldn’t get out. He, he never turned any violence on me, but I suspect he used me as leverage with mom; she was a smart woman, I suspect she noticed something amiss but was frightened into keeping quiet. I was six when they locked him up, eight when she remarried. Mike is a gentle man, he did his best to raise me the same. But I, I never shook the fear that whatever drove my father to kill innocent people lurks somewhere in my genes.”

Barclay’s arm rests protectively across Joseph’s shoulders.

“I joined the FBI because I felt if I was able to turn whatever killer genes I have towards understanding serial murderers, I could use them to help others. Keep people safe. Ambition and skill moved me through the ranks quickly but” he sighs, “the more I rose, the more I saw how little was being done. How cases were mishandled, how if there was the slightest hint it was a cop or veteran doing the killing suddenly the case went cold, how a killer could pick off person after person and no one cared because the victims were the “wrong” kind of people. It came to a head two years ago; I’d poured all this energy into a case where the killer went after sex workers. He was prolific and obviously cruel, I fought tooth and nail for every resource I needed to track him. Officer Alex Brown was my main suspect, I was so close to getting a warrant to search his property and then they closed the case. Insisted the deaths were unrelated. I...I went up and searched on my own and” he looks at the sky, rests his head on Barclays arm, “lord almighty the things I found. I was right, I was right and I couldn’t do anything about it, he’d get to just go on preying on people and I couldn’t handle failing his future victims that way. I waited until he went on a hunting trip. Alone. Lots of things can happen to a man in the woods. And it’s hard to find evidence when his body just happens to fall near a coyote den.”

A little smile, one he tries to suppress, creeps up his cheeks, “I’ve never felt so powerful in my entire life. I decided I’d still try to play by the rules but that if I knew, for certain, someone was guilty and being shielded by either ignorance or malice, I’d solve the problem myself.” He looks at Barclay for the first time since he started his answer, face turning to shame, “I’m sorry, I, I should have given the short answer. I didn’t, I don’t want to upset you, or scare you but it’s hard not to given-”

“Joseph” Barclay carefully runs his fingers over black hair, “it’s not like I forgot how we met. I...I’m not under any misimpressions about what you’re capable of. I just wanted to know how you arrived at the solution you did. It’s, uh, it’s not what I’d choose for myself, not something I could do but, uh, I guess what I’m trying to say is that this isn’t going to push me away from you. And that it means a lot to me that you trust me enough to explain it.”

His boyfriend curls closer, “It means a lot to me, too.”

-------------------------------------------------------

Black gloves on his throat, weight on his chest and when he opens his eyes it’s Joseph above him, steel in his gaze and between his fingers. He’s in a muddled dream version of Bear Butcher’s apartment

“Hi, big guy.” The thin knife slices up Barclay’s pants, “let’s get you out of these.”

“Please, please I-”

“Shhhh” Joseph kisses him, “I removed the man who threatened you. But you’re so handsome laid out like this, a victim just waiting for someone to make you scream.”

“Babe, I-”

“That’s not my name right now. Call me..” the hand no longer has a knife, is running roughly up his cock instead, “call me…”

Barclay wakes up still humping the mattress as he cums. Blindly, he reaches for his phone to check the time. It’s the fifth dream like that in two weeks, and they always leave him so horny he tries to get it up and get off again if there’s time. No such luck today; he has to be up in ten minutes.

He tries not to think about it during work, just like he tries not to think about it the rest of the time. Especially in bed with Joseph, his attentive, indulgent Joseph who puts all his organizational skills and professional practice at giving orders into domming Barclay so sweetly he stays in subspace for hours.

He’s still very much not thinking about Joseph gagging him so his screams don’t wake the neighbors as he climbs the stairs to his boyfriends place. Dani was a sweetheart and took care of his orders for him, so he was able to leave work early.

The T.V is on, volume up loud enough that he can tell what his boyfriend is up to before he even walks into the room. He fully intends to tease him for not being able to wait until Barclay was there to jerk off before hauling him into the bedroom. But when he sees the screen, he freezes.

A man in what looks like a cheesy camp counselor uniform is tied to the bed, his shirt stuffed into his mouth as a make-shift gag. Straddling him is a man in a black jumpsuit, knife near his hand and cock buried in the counselors ass.

“That’s it sweetheart, wiggle and try’n get away; you ain’t gonna and it feels so fuckin good when you try. This is what you get for leaving the window open.”

The counselor shakes his head, fear so palpable Barclay barely notices the fact the boom mic is in the shot. The killer pulls the gag free.

“Please, please, don’t kill meAH, ohgod”

A dark laugh, “I’m not gonna kill you, sugar. Thought about it, but when am I gonna find an ass this good again? Nah, I’m gonna take you back with me, keep you strapped down because you’re the, fuck, cutest goddamn specimen I ever caught.”

On the couch, Joseph tenses, cumming in the sleeve he’s using with a cry at the same moment the killer on screen cums and bends to kiss his co-stars tear-streaked face.

Joseph hits the remote, causing the T.V to go dark and reveal Barclay’s reflection.

“Shit!” Joseph leaps up, making Barclay yelp in surprise, “oh, oh thank the lord it’s just you….oh god how much of that did you see?”

“Some?”

Joseph drops to the couch, head in hands, “shit. I’m, I’m so sorry Barclay, I, I never wanted you to know about this habit, I’m sorry it’s awful.” The voice between his fingers sounds like it might cry.

“I mean, that wasn’t like a snuff film, right?”

“Those aren’t real.”

He can’t help but smile remembering Joseph’s rant on the subject, “what I meant was: those guys are just actors getting paid to do a scene like that, not some actually getting attacked.”

“Of course not.” Joseph looks up, horrified, “I’d never watch something like that. The, the whole reason I like this company is that they do horror porn under very ethical working conditions.”

“Then why are you acting like I caught you pissing in my coffee?”

“Does the fact I get off to this honestly not bother you?”

“I mean, people get off to all sorts of shit. Like, um, like” he twists the bracelet on his wrist, “like their boyfriend tying them up and threatening to make them scream.”

Josephs eyes widen. Then he shakes his head, “No. No we can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I...I never, ever want to hurt you that way. Even in a scene. I can’t stand the thought of you being scared of me, of turning these impulses loose on you. It sounds fun until I picture it and then it makes me ill. No, this stays firmly in my head.”

“Okay.” He keeps his reply soft to hide his disappointment. Joseph is still on the couch, refusing to look his way, and so he circles it and kneels at his feet to better rub his arms. He thinks about the images on screen. About Joseph, blissed out then suddenly shame-faced. Joseph, two nights ago, calculated and loving as he worked Barclay over.

No, maybe the kind of scene he’s been picturing isn’t for them. But he can think of one that is.

“What if, uh, instead of giving into the desires that freak you out we kind of rechannel them. Like, instead of strapping me down to torment me, you’re doing it to show off?”

Blue eyes meet his for the first time all night, “Say more.”

--------------------------------------

“Ready?” Barclay bats his eyelashes at Joseph as his boyfriend finishes double checking the tightness of the rope he’s using to tie Barclays arms above his head.

“Ready.” Joseph stands, rolling his shoulders and closing his eyes as he takes deep breaths. Then he frowns, “can you start us off?”

“Sure thing, babe.” He nestles his head on the pillow, “okay, you found me tied up like this. What’s your first thought?”

Joseph opens his eyes, gaze sharp, “That I’m so lucky someone left a handsome specimen like you where I could find him.”

Barclays cock twitches at being referred to that way, “You’re not gonna let me go?”

“Not just yet. You’re so perfect, will you let me make a case for staying here with me?”

“Please” Barclay whimpers as Joseph straddles him, knife in hand.

“I’m very precise, for starters.” He cuts slowly up Barclays boxers until he can pull the strip of fabric off. Repeats the process, lips a firm line of concentration, with his undershirt, “see? There’s not even a scratch. I have to be careful not to damage my perfect specimen.”

Barclay groans, rolling his hips. Joseph smiles, shifting so his cock rubs against Joseph’s clothed crotch.

“Fuck, Joseph-”

“Shhhh” a gloved thumb brushes his lips, “When you’re like this, my name is Sir.”

“Ohfuck.” Barclay rubs his cheek pleadingly in his palm, “Sir, please, please, untie me so I can touch you.”

“Not yet.” Joseph pats his cheek, scoots backwards on the bed, “besides, you’ll have lots of time to touch me once I take you home and make you my sweet live-in plaything.”

“Holyfuckingshit.” Barclay fights off a dozen tantalizing images of what that could entail to focus on their plan, “Sir? What, uh, what was the guy who tied me up going to do to me?”

His boyfriend settles between his legs, “He was going to take you apart.” He lifts Barclay’s right leg, “starting with these, so if you got free you couldn’t run. This tendon first” he kisses the back of his knee, making Barclay giggle. He pauses, then decides on holding both legs up at once so he can repeat the kiss on the other side. His lips move slowly down to his ankles, right side and then the left, before a final one lands on his arch, “he was going to cut here too. But not me” the kisses continue, “I’m going to rub them every evening so you’re never sore.”

“Fuuuuck” He sighs as Joseph straddles him once more, leaning forward so he can kiss and fondle his arms.

“He was going to slice alllll along here” Joseph’s breathing is picking up the longer he lavishes Barclay with kisses, “then he was going to take your fingers one by one” Joseph kisses each knuckle in turn, his free hand petting Barclay’s face and hair, “then he was going to commit a cardinal sin by mangling these” Joseph toys with his pecks, sucks happily on his left nipple for a moment, “what a crime that would have been.”

“Sir” it’s a whine as Joseph nips and kisses his way down to his navel.

He raises slightly, mouth just above Barclays cock, “and because he had no imagination, he was going to cut this wonderful appendage off. Which is not the treatment it deserves.”

“What treatment does it deserve SirrrrrOHfuck, fuckyes” Barclay pants as Joseph licks stripe after stripe up his cock. As Joseph licks and sucks him to a hard-on, he feels the plug slip from his ass.

“I don’t know what his plans were for that” Joseph sits up, undoing his pants and pulling out his cock, “but I know what mine are.” He pushes Barclays legs wide, works his cock in with slow, steady thrusts while Barclay tries to remember how words work.

“Shit, yes, god your ass is amazing, what kind of person sees it and thinks its for anything but fucking?”

“Nngh” Barclay clings to the ropes as Joseph’s thrusts quicken.

“Lord, I thought you were a perfect specimen before but I was wrong, you look even better taking my cock.”

“Fuck, fuck that’s hot.”

Joseph grip his thighs tight enough to hurt, “well, big guy, will you stay with me?” His eyes glitter, his hair is coming loose and falling across his forehead.

“YesAH, yes, ohfucksirright there” He didn’t notice Joseph changing the angle of thrusts until his cock found his prostate, “I’ll be so good Sir, wanna be a good boy for you.”

“Oh good.” Joseph’s smile goes wolfish for an instant, “because I would have had to do some very mean things to persuade you if you refused.”

Barclay cums at that, staining Joseph’s shirt with white. His hands knock against the headboard as Joseph fucks him hard enough to make him sob with oversensitive pleasure.

“You’re going to be such a nice plaything for Sir, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Good boyOH, ohshit, shit.” Joseph pulls out halfway through cumming, spattering it on Barclays thighs and balls. Carefully, he lowers his legs. Then his boyfriend collapses into his arms, panting and giddy.

“That, that was so fun. I’d say who knew but every time we fuck you show me just how fucking fun all this can be.”

“Aw, babe.” He goes to hug him and rediscovers the ropes.

“Ohshit, here” Joseph sets to work undoing his knots, “are your wrists okay? Not too sore? How about your shoulders?”

“They all feel fucking great, baby. I feel great. How could I not? I got you looking after me.”

Joseph smiles, “and out for you.”

“That too. Now c’mere, special agent, your next assignment is cuddling your boyfriend.”

#sternclay #agent stern/ barclay #meet ugy #taz amnesty

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kpopfanfictrash · 4 years

Text

Zephyr

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Word Count: 2,696

Rating: PG-13

Summary: An accompanying drabble to Exes and Supher-o’s. This drabble takes place before the events of Exes and Superher-o’s and follows Jungkook as he’s rescued by a superhero love interest.

A/N: The reader in this drabble is not the reader in Exes and Superher-o’s.

[ PART OF MY JUNGKOOK BIRTHDAY DRABBLE GAME ]

While standing in line at the check-out counter, Jungkook examined the oranges he’d picked out in his basket. Idly, he recalled Minutia saying the color orange came after the fruit, not before. She loved to spout factoids like that; Jungkook did a pretty good job of tuning her out, but her random facts always seemed to stick in his head.

Minutia was the superhero Jungkook was assigned to as handler. She was fairly loud, fairly opinionated and fairly dedicated to kicking people’s ass on the regular.

She’d mentioned the orange fact when ISA – International Superhero Agency – had recommended Minutia change her superhero suit color to orange. She’d felt very strongly about this and in the end, Minutia had won.

Usually, she did.

Realizing the line before him had moved, Jungkook took a step forward. No longer distracted by thoughts of the color orange, he took the opportunity to scan the grocery store around him.

It was a habit of his – an unfortunate side effect of both his job and the knowledge which came from it. After high school, Jungkook attended an elite military academy on the east coast, but it only took six months before ISA found him.

He’d been out for a morning run when two men in suits cornered him for what they called an opportunity. They’d explained about a different path than the military; an alternative from merely serving his country. Both agent and handlers at ISA held no national loyalty – they merely protected civilians from absolute evil.

Barely had the offer left their mouths before Jungkook accepted.

Of course, Jungkook learned soon after superhero handlers were little more than baby-sitters, but that was beside the point. He genuinely cared about Minutia and knew the work they did together was important – even if his position kind of sucked, since Jungkook was more than capable of defending himself.

Handlers were required to be proficient in various martial arts; they often trained the newbie superheroes who arrived at the Agency. Jungkook was a ninth-degree black belt in Taekwondo, a red belt in Jiu Jitsu and a tenth-degree black belt in Judo. He also had a blue belt in Krav Maga, but this had more to do with lack of time than capability. Jungkook could assemble and disassemble most weapons in the time it took most people to fire them, but all that meant nothing in the face of superpowers.

Minutia could simply freeze Jungkook and kill him if she wanted to; he’d never see it coming.

Not that Minutia would kill him, of course. Stifling the image, Jungkook moved up in line. His super was relentlessly moral, even if she had some rough edges and enjoyed pushing boundaries.

It was the rest who worried Jungkook, like the supervillains they fought. Aided by supernatural powers, supervillains were capable of great destruction. It was the main reason Jungkook stayed at his job – if anyone stood a chance against supervillains, it was superheroes.

“Bag?”

Surprised, Jungkook looked up. “Huh?”

“Bag,” the cashier girl repeated, rolling her eyes. “Do you want a bag?”

“Oh – no.” Jungkook shook his head. “I have my own. I –”

An explosion rocked the street outside, shattering the windows in a hailstorm of glass.

On instinct, Jungkook dove to protect the rude cashier with his body. There was bulletproof lining beneath his clothes, for which he was grateful. He’d just come from shooting practice at Headquarters and hadn’t had a chance to change out of his gear.

Glass harmlessly bounced off his torso, although a few shards sliced his face, leaving blood as he winced. Reaching up to grip counter, Jungkook surveyed the damage.

All the windows of the supermarket had been blown in. The blast seemed to have originated from the street – at least, Jungkook assumed this based on the direction of people running.

“Stay down!” he yelled, and launched himself over the counter.

People obeyed, crawling towards the store’s interior aisles. Jungkook hoped there was a door in the back, otherwise they’d trap themselves like fish in a barrel. He wasn’t surprised when people followed his command. People tended to respond positively to authority in times of chaos.

Yanking a Glock from his jacket, Jungkook dashed from the store. Cocking his head to one side, he surveyed the street for danger.

There – at the end of the block, he saw a cloud of dust settling.

Keeping his gun steady, Jungkook rushed towards the scene. Halfway there, he realized he’d left his groceries behind and nearly groaned. Oh, well, it couldn’t be helped. Such was the life of superheroes and handlers.

As though in response to his thought, someone emerged from the chaos.

Only one person; tall, with hulking muscles and what looked to be three arms. Nope, wait – that was machine gun. Fuck.

Jungkook lunged to the side as the man opened fire. Luckily, much of the street was deserted from the blast and few people were hurt. Propping himself up on one knee, Jungkook squinted from behind an overturned car and fired.

Five shots, each in quick succession aimed at the man’s torso. Three of them hit, sending the man to his knees, only for him to snarl, his gaze snapping upwards.

Jungkook watched in horror as the bullet wounds began to heal, pushing metal from flesh with alarming speed.

Of fucking course, he was a supervillain.

Flipping around, Jungkook pressed his back to the car and considered his options. He should call for Minutia, or another super – teeth gritted, Jungkook pushed this option aside. He could do this on his own; this was a fight he could win.

Winning against rejuvenation wasn’t unheard of for someone like him. It meant his opponent healed abnormally fast from their injuries, but they could be overwhelmed if Jungkook kept up momentum.

Before he could finish this thought, the car Jungkook sat against flipped overhead.

Eyes wide, Jungkook watched it crash and roll down the street. A small crowd darted away as they screamed and Jungkook stifled an eye roll. Civilians were so predictable. They never got out of the way like they should; instead, they pressed closer and tried to video it all on their cell phones.

Twisting around, Jungkook found the supervillain grinning at him while he flexed a muscle.

The machine gun lay discarded in a pile of rubble. Jungkook’s heart sank, since it meant the villain was out of ammo, which likely meant he’d been using it in other locations.

When the villain wrenched a storm grate from the ground, Jungkook came to his senses. Survival was priority number one. Fighting someone with only rejuvenation would’ve been hard enough; it would be near impossible to fight someone with rejuvenation and strength.

Rolling away, Jungkook managed to escape said trajectory of the grate.

Metal smashed into the space he’d just occupied, leaving a human-sized dent in the pavement. Flipping himself upwards, Jungkook shot as he moved. This was a move best left to the movies, unless you happened to be an obsessed-with-video-games-superhero-handler trained in four different kinds of martial arts.

Jungkook was just that.

“Catch me if you can!” he yelled, taking off down the street.

He zig-zagged as he moved, craning his neck to peer overhead. The new plan was: keep the villain’s attention on Jungkook until help arrived, which wouldn’t be long. Given the immediacy of the destruction, ISA would likely dispatch someone with the ability to fly.

All he had to do was stay alive until then. Smirking a little, Jungkook dug in his heel and spun around.

Luckily, he had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Pushing up the sleeve of his jacket, Jungkook waited until the villain was within fifteen feet, then pressed a button. 70 mA of electrical current shot out from his wrist, arcing with blue-white light to hit the villain in the chest. A product created by Namjoon, otherwise known as the superhero, Brainblast.

The volt was enough to stun or kill any other man, but the villain simply gasped and sunk to his knees.

He writhed for a moment, clawing at skin which simultaneously burned and healed. The distraction was all Jungkook needed to run, aiming his gun and – someone swooped down to blast the villain back with air.

A smirk on your face, you lowered both hands to your sides.

Jungkook skidded to a stop. Your superhero alias, Zephyr, was one of the most popular superheroes on the face of the planet. Intelligent, formidable, and rated a seven on the ISA power scale, despite only having one superpower: control over the air and winds.

You were also ridiculously hot; Jungkook had harbored a crush on you for years.

He still remembered the day you arrived at the Agency. Higher-ups said Zephyr (the Greek god of the west wind) was traditionally a male name and wouldn’t make sense to serve as your moniker. You’d said to fuck off and written it down anyways.

This memory made Jungkook smile, even as you sent another wave of wind down the street. Shaking his head, he pulled himself back to reality.

Hovering a few feet off the ground, wind whipped at your hair. You’d explained to him once you didn’t really fly – it was more the wind currents obeyed your commands and took you where you needed to go. Jungkook didn’t really get the difference, but he couldn’t deny you looked badass doing it.

While the villain struggled to stand, you glanced down at Jungkook.

“You alright?” you asked, concern evident in your voice.

Jungkook tried not to frown. “I’m fine,” he said, despite the disheveled state of his hair and clothes. “I had him, you know.”

“Right.” Your expression turned dubious. “It’s just that –”

You were cut off by said villain throwing a car at your head, which you managed to stop with a thrust of your hand. The winds obeyed your command, wrapping around the car to set off to one side.

Gaze narrowed, you rose even higher. “It’s not that you’re not capable!” You yelled to be heard over the wind. “But –”

A sewer grate flew through the air and, without turning, Jungkook shot it down from the sky. Pieces rained around them like confetti.

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “Right.” Sheepish, you smiled. “Just keep doing that. Distract him and I’ll try to knock him out. Keep him alive, though!”

Jungkook nodded, giving a grim smile before moving forward.

He broke into a run, alarmed by how fast the villain seemed to heal. Even if two supers had the same power, they tended to vary in intensity. This villain must be rated high even without his super strength.

The device on Jungkook’s arm wouldn’t recharge for another five minutes, so he relied on his gun to keep the villain occupied. A shot to the kneecap; another to his shoulder. Keeping your words in mind, Jungkook tried not to hit anything vital. Even rejuvenation might not be enough to heal the man if he shot him in the heart.

High above, you flew gracefully upwards. Jungkook nearly stopped to stare; you arced through the sky like a dancer, claiming the winds as though you owned them. Caressing the breeze with one hand, you turned around and – fuck.

Jungkook had let himself get distracted. Swearing aloud, he dove behind the nearest car and heard something shatter.

Rolling to the other side, he propped himself up on one knee and shot. The villain yelped, stumbling forward as the bullet hit his elbow.

This time, it took greater concentration for metal to be squeezed from his skin. The villain panted as he stood, clearly winded and Jungkook’s heart leapt, realizing they’d tired him out.

This turned out to be the opening you needed.

Swooping down, you reached out a hand, and – wind whipping about like a force field – slowly closed your palm.

The villain gasped, his eyes going wide as he clutched his throat.

Shakily, Jungkook pushed himself upwards to stand.

One of the most dangerous powers associated with air manipulation was creating a vacuum. You achieved this by removing the air entirely; a feat which required great skill and concentration.

It only took a few minutes for the man to be so deprived of oxygen, his eyes rolled backwards. His legs wavered a second, then he slumped to the ground.

“Saoirse!” you yelled, floating down. “Cuffs!”

A woman with red hair – your handler, Jungkook presumed – ran from the nearest subway station to quickly cuff the man’s hands behind his back. Jungkook could see the moment the villain’s power drained from his limbs.

Standing before them, you watched, although it seemed to pain you.

Picking his way through the wreckage, Jungkook came to a stop by your side. Glancing your way, he noticed the breeze continue to play with your hair, as though it couldn’t bear to be parted for long.

“Do you ever wonder what this does to us?”

Confused by your question, Jungkook blinked. “What do you mean?”

“This,” you said, waving a hand at the wreckage. In the distance, Jungkook could hear sirens screaming. “All the death, the destruction… even the people on the other side. Does it ever hurt you sometimes?”

Jungkook stared at you for a moment, unsure how to respond.

Truthfully, it did bother him when he saw himself in the villains they faced. Sometimes he was fighting genuine evil, but occasionally the villains had reasonable grievances – worse, sometimes they’d merely been raised to see the ISA as evil.

Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to hate those kinds of villains and yes, it did hurt when he took them out.

Sensing his hesitance, your shoulders slumped. Jungkook’s stomach twisted, wanting to fix whatever it was you were feeling. He hesitated, wanting to say you weren’t alone.

“Never mind,” you said, managing to smile. “Another bad guy defeated, right?”

“Right.” Jungkook’s gaze remained upon yours. “I guess.”

Before you could say anything more, Saoirse called your name.

“Guess I should go,” you said, rising into the air. When you glanced his way, Jungkook found himself wondering what you were thinking. “I… thanks for helping today, Jungkook.”

“Anytime.”

This time when he smiled at you, it was genuine.

You rose another few feet, then hesitated. “It’s been awhile since I came by the training arena, huh?”

Jungkook shrugged, as though he hadn’t noticed, but he had. Of course, he had.

“You’re still the one they’ve got training the new recruits?”

“Yep,”

“Hm.” A small smile crossed your lips. “Maybe I should stop by. Show the newbies how it’s done. We could work up a sweat.”

Jungkook’s heart nearly stopped when you dropped him a wink. Before he could speak, you rose further into the air.

“Bye, Jungkook!” you called, and zipped off down the street.

The sound of your voice faded into the sounds of the city and Jungkook stood there another moment before coming to his senses. His phone began to ring in his pocket.

Fumbling for the device, he sighed when he saw the name on the ID.

“Hello?” he said, lifting the phone to his ear.

“YOU’RE ALIVE.”

Wincing, he held the phone further away. “Minutia?”

“Who else would it be? Of course, it’s me, you idiot! I had just gotten my morning coffee and was passing that pizza place when I happen to catch a glimpse of the TV – and what do I see? You, fighting a fucking supervillain alone!”

“I wasn’t alone,” Jungkook shot back.

“Yeah, those cowering civilians looked real intimidating.”

“Zephyr showed up at the end, it was fine.”

“Oh,” she said, somewhat mollified. “Alright, then. She’s cool. But seriously, JK – be more careful, would you? I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Pulling his hand away, Jungkook squinted at the receiver. “Huh?” he said, returning the device to his ear.

“Yeah, who’d pick up my dry cleaning?”

“Bye,” Jungkook grunted, and hung up the phone.

Still, he smiled as he turned to walk down the street. People stared as he passed, pointing and whispering about the state of his clothes. Jungkook heard the word super being muttered, although he didn’t bother to correct them.

He was too busy turning your words over again in his mind. Does it ever hurt you sometimes?

The truth was it did. All the time.

He just didn’t know if there existed a better path than the one he was on.

#jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook drabble #bts drabble #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook superhero #bts superhero

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