#giving off duty detective

[brother-yeeter]

Vil's just slaying, serving up looks, stunning the crowds . . . Then you got fvcking off-brand Huey, Dewey and Louie in the back giving us absolutely nothing.

#go girls #give us nothing #jamils is a partial slay #giving off duty detective #Ace is the spitting image of a sad victorian child #Azul looks like he just broke out of the nursing home #someone put him back please #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland memes #disney twst #twst wonderland #nrc #anime memes #night raven college #vil schoenheit #azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #ace trappola #tapis rouge #twst event

[reminiscingtonight]

arsenal, hoodies and hickies for tobin! (bonus if shes still playing for them and maybe dating someones sibling)

Spill The Tea (Alessia Russo x Press!Reader)

A/N: changed the req a bit bc there is no Tobin without Christen so I made the reader Christen’s sibling

“Is this something I’m going to need to tell Christen or can I trust you to be a responsible adult?”

There’s this thing with Tobin. Ever since she started dating your sister all those years ago, she’s really slipped into the role of the fourth older sister you don’t need. 

While she isn’t as nitpicky as Tyler and Christen or as interrogative as Channing, Tobin still liked to harp on you quite a lot. So you’ve heard this question come out of her mouth more times than you can count. And by now you know better than to expect Tobin to keep a secret from Christen.

You tilt your head towards her, a singular eyebrow raising up in question as your arms stay halfway through your training shirt. Of all times Tobin could’ve started a conversation of course she had to wait until you were quite literally trapped with nowhere to escape. 

“Why do you think I have anything to tell you?”

“You have a hickey the size of Maine on your neck.”

You follow her eyes down to your skin. Your still very bruised skin. 

The memory of mischievous eyes sparkling as you tried to sneak out this morning flashes clearly through your mind as you hastily pull on a neck warmer from your cubby.

You can still feel Tobin’s eyes on the side of your face as you try to busy yourself pulling on the last of your clothes. 

“You’re seeing someone, don’t lie.”

“And why do you think so?” You look up to see Tobin giving you a look. You roll your eyes. “Apart from the hickey.”

“You’re really going to make me play detective today?” When you don’t respond Tobin lets out an annoyed grunt. “Where to start? Well you’ve been sneaking in at 6 in the morning for the past couple of weeks.”

It’s not your fault you haven’t been given a drawer yet. Frankly the number of times you’ve stayed over should’ve already gotten you a place to store your things but Alessia’s been extremely paranoid about letting you leave traces of yourself at hers. Something about how her England teammates like coming over unannounced. A lot. Better to keep no trace of you at her place lest a blabbermouth blabbers too much.

“And changing your phone password? Not cool, dude.”

You cringe at the memory of Tobin storming into your room at half past twelve the other day, exasperated at the fact that a). you weren’t up and making her breakfast yet, and b). she couldn’t get into your phone to doordash some food.

You and Tobin shared everything. Cooking duties. The occasional snapback. Your phone passwords. But that last one was the first thing you changed when you started seeing Alessia. 

“And finally, this,” Tobin pokes at the light blue hoodie peeking out of your duffle, “is not yours.”

You try ducking under her arm to get out of the locker room but Tobin grabs a firm hold of your training top, jerking you back towards her.

You’re nose to nose now and the forward has no problem using her height advantage to stare you down. “I’ll ask again. Who have you been locking lips with?”

You scowl. “Well you’re playing detective today right? Guess.”

Tobin’s lips pinch shut, a displeased look on her face.

Before she can retaliate, a brief call of her name by Kim has Tobin turning away. When her hands loosen their hold, you bolt, taking full advantage of Tobin’s brief dip of attention.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of blue eyes follow you out of the room.

It isn’t until you’re already stretching on the sideline that long legs catch up to you. A soft smile breaks onto your face at the sight of other girl, hands opening and closing as you mime at her to come closer for a kiss.

For a second you think Alessia's going to crumble to your demands. 

And then you see her panicked expression.

“Did Tobin figure out we’re dating?”

Sighing, you push yourself off the ground, taking care to brush grass off your legs. “No, Tobin’s smart but she isn’t that smart.”

Alessia gives you a look that has you wondering if she’s offended on the behalf of the striker. 

You roll your eyes before giving her a light shove. “Relax, all she saw was your hoodie. She’s not going to know it’s yours.”

Alessia’s eyes widen at the mention of the sweatshirt you snuck out of her house this morning. Usually it’s cute and all and she really does love seeing you in her clothes, but faced with the fact that it’s branded with the UNC logo on the front? Or the fact that Tobin knows you followed in Christen’s footsteps and went to Stanford instead of Chapel Hill? 

“My hoodie? Babe! Of course she’s going to know it’s mine!”

“Relax,” you repeat, hands coming up to rub at her tense shoulders. “There are four of you who played at UNC who are on the team now. She’ll be too busy trying to figure out if it’s you, Lotte, or Foxy to ever find the real culprit.”

If anything, your words only seem to agitate her more. Alessia slaps your hands away, arms crossing over her chest. “You’d rather Tobin think you’re dating Lotte or Em over me?”

Safe to say, any words you try to defend yourself with only digs you deeper into the hole.

Tobin’s pleasantly surprised to see you moping on the couch later that night.

.

It doesn't take as long as you’re expecting for Tobin to figure it out.

You’re doing your weekly check-in with your sister a couple days later when Christen’s face suddenly widens into a teasing smirk. 

“So Tobin tells me you have a new girlfriend.”

You resist the urge to fling your phone across the room. Instead, you do the mature thing and hang up the phone.

Christen doesn’t look impressed when she calls back and you pick up. 

“Oh don’t be a wuss. There’s nothing you can do without me knowing. So spill. Tell me all about her.”

 You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Really, Chris? This is what you want to talk about?”

Even from a continent away you can see the megawatt smile being sent your way. “Couldn’t take my number so you had to take out a girl who has it too, huh?”

Tobin cringes in her room when she hears the telltale sound of your phone crashing against the wall.

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #tobin heath x reader #tobin heath imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #3wp #Ace writes

[jymwahuwu]

When I was picking up starfish for Neuvillette, I was illuminated by a light outside the Fortress of Meropide and automatically taken back to prison💀💔 So I'm thinking about the story of the reader trying to escape by diving and being caught by Wriothesley🥴

CW: yandere, abuse of power, non-con, escape failed, non-consensual spanking

Just today. You can escape, now or never.

You've bribed one of the guards, using all the credit coupons you earned from working in the cafeteria. He quietly brings you a set of diving equipment from outside and briefly teaches you how to use it. He's on duty today. On this day, this day only, you can take advantage of the laxity and loopholes in the guards to escape. For the past few days, you had been submissive and radiant in front of Wriothesley, warming his cock for hours. He promised to give you a day off. You can walk around the Fortress of Meropide and chat with people, or you can just sleep and read, write, munch delicious breads and desserts. It's up to you.

And you use it to escape from prison.

You were sent to the Fortress of Meropide for some ridiculous crime… or maybe even something you didn't do at all. It only took three days from the accusation to the conviction. The members of gardes somehow searched your home for "evidence of guilt". The testimonies of the witnesses all subtly accused you, as if a strange net fell from the firmament. You tried to argue and analyze the irrationality of these logics, but tears and logic… were all useless. This ordinary trial, devoid of drama, ended quickly. They escort you to an underwater prison, where you are exiled in full view of the public.

"Mmm, raise your head and let me see you."

Your eyes widened, recognizing him, a customer you met when you worked part-time in the teahouse. He helped you deal with a customer who was harassing you. Dressed in work clothes, you introduced him to new refreshments, giggling at his witty remarks. He always comes on the same afternoon, orders tea and dessert, and sits quietly, waiting to talk to you.

Once, he asked you whether the sun was so bright outside the water, and whether the people at the top of the water were the same as you. You were confused by his question at that moment.

A confession changes something. Such a peaceful life continued until one day, he hinted whether he would be lucky enough to go on a date with you, but… you had not thought about establishing any romantic relationship with the guest. Unexpectedly, the customer just nodded, kissed the back of your hand and left.

(Underwater. Inexplicable charges and sentences.) The mind is buzzing, and those clues and emotions are flooding into you. You have some understanding of what's going on-

"…It's you. It's you who is framing me…"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He smiled - with confidence and teasing. "But falsely accusing me will only make your crime worse."

You bit your lip, shaking, tears falling.

Your cell is somehow quite close to Wriothesley's office. He summons you to his office at any time, puts you on his lap, or presses on you at night. You want to resist. Once, you yelled at him in the cafeteria. Wriothesley just held your waist with one hand, took off your underwear, and slapped your exposed and swollen butt. Other prisoners were frightened.

You arrived at the appointed location, and the guard nodded to you. You prepare to put on your diving gear, but your thoughts spread like tree roots - When will Wriothesley realize you're missing? What will he do? Where can you go...Mondstadt? Sumeru is closer, but there are Matras there. They may be working with Fontaine...Wriothesley...He...

However, these are not worth mentioning in the face of freedom. You can't hide your current smile, the joy of freedom dances on the tip of your tongue, urging you to take steps forward. Beautiful sunshine. Market. The sound of people talking. The steam from the machine when brewing tea. Detective novels and newspapers. You will be able to have these again, even if you can't appear openly anymore, but it doesn't matter, anything is better than an underwater prison and a large factory.

Anywhere is better than here…

The moment you were about to dive-

a pair of arms grabbed you.

You started screaming almost immediately, broke into a cold sweat from fear, and struggled like a fish out of water without even looking at who the person behind you was. You just want to dive into the sea, but those arms are unexpectedly strong - just like when he pulled you into his arms and kissed your lips countless times. No room for rejection.

"Hey-hey, calm down, okay? Stop." He takes off your diving equipment. What Wriothesley said was like you were losing your temper, not that he was using a trick to force you to stay with him. You turned around and met his gray pupils, crying. The man still smiled and patted your head, "there there…" But as soon as he finished speaking, you found that the guard you bribed was being subdued and pinned to the ground.

"Take him away. Inform Neuvillette." He said coldly.

The guards received the order, saluted, and then forcibly escorted him away.

"…W-when did you know?" He wrapped his arms around your waist, allowing you to sniffle and whimper. You just want to ask this, to know how much you've been predicted. Does he laugh inside when he sees you being so well-behaved…? Wriothesley paused for a moment, as if he was considering how to reply, not wanting to hurt your pride. "…Is it important?"

"I want to know."

"I told you, I know everything that's going on here, the difference is whether I want to take action or not." He placed a kiss on your forehead. "I'll use the belt later, by the way."

#wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere wriothesley #wriothesley x fem reader

[deadsetobsessions]

AU of Gotham! Tim Drake! Danny where he doesn’t know the universe he was reincarnated into.

“Robin!” Batman barked. Tim sighed, loudly. Batman twitched.

“What is it, B?”

“Drills. Again.”

Tim rolled his eyes but moved to obey. Speaking to B these days was like speaking to a rather boorish caveman. Simple grunts and single word sentences. It didn't use to be like this but B was loosing his grip on his humanity and it’s Tim’s job to bring it back.

It’s hilarious because he’s the least human of them all. It was odd, juggling his duties as Danny Gotham, his responsibilities as Tim, and his workload as Bruce’s shiny new Robin. Somehow he made it work.

Yeah, sometimes B’s hands are heavy when they’re training. Sometimes he forgets Danny’s name (or at least his human name) and calls for Jason instead. Sometimes, he smells more like booze and less like Bruce.

Danny could handle it. Even if his core quivers with grief. He wished he didn’t have to, but he could and will handle whatever he needs to for his Knight to regain himself. But fuck, that doesn’t mean taking his self destructive habits lying down. He might be Tim right now, but as far as Batman knew, Tim was here on the orders of

“B.”

“Hm.”

Oh, a neutral grunt! I see we’ve upgraded to grunts instead of arm flapping! Holy detective, Batman! Aren’t I glad I learned to speak cave man? Wow! Tim mocked, in his head.

“You’re heading to bed when I’m done with this set,” Tim said.

“This case isn’t done,” Batman growled. Ancients, it was like speaking to a large chihuahua-toddler hybrid. All the barking, all the growling, and all the petulance of a child makes the entirety of how his Knight acted on a good day these days.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” Tim shot back, sore arms and legs and everything working through the set. Thank the ancients for his healing, or else Tim might actually be dying.

“You don’t give me orders, Robin.”

“No, but Gotham does.” He would know, considering Tim was Gotham.

The head full of greasy- ew, take a shower, B!- hair swiveled towards him.

“You have a direct line to Gotham?”

Tim settled into the final forms of the night. “Gotham sent me. I thought we went over this.”

A beat of silence.

Batman returned to clacking away at the computer. Tim finished his set in relative peace. He moved to the cool down stretches while Batman sulked in front of his computer like a five year old.

“I’m done.” He said, crossing his arms.

“Hm.”

“That means you’re done, too.”

“I’m not tired.”

Tim rolled his eyes so hard, he thinks he saw the light. Oh, wait, that’s just Bruce’s last brain cell dying.

“You’re heading to bed. Good luck finding actual crime tomorrow, if you stay up.”

Batman stilled, because he knows Gotham would back Tim up on the threat. Considering the time sensitivity of some of these cases, Gotham’s anger is not something he could risk.

Tim patted himself on the back for effectively playing the good cop and the bad cop on his own. Except ACAB for life because they’re vigilantes and the GCPD as a whole (with exceptions) sucks ass.

He watched as Batman- as Bruce- reluctantly powered down the Bat-Computer. As he stood up, Tim wrinkled his nose.

“Never mind. You take a shower first. I’ll text Alfred.”

“Not necessary.”

“Okay, then you can explain to Gotham why you’re traipsing through his city looking a starved rat and smelling like you took a joy ride in Killer Croc’s excrement. Oh, wait.” Tim snapped, just about done being patient today. Tim whipped out his phone, texting Alfred with one hand and pointing towards the staircase with the other.

“Shower above ground, you weird little mole rat. No cave water for you.”

Bruce makes a weird offended grunt.

“I literally don’t care if you have to walk up to your room to shower in your boxers, B. Most of Gotham’s people don’t have access to a shower, let alone a million dollar bathroom. Fucking use your actual bathroom instead of hosing off.”

And with that, Batman and Bruce Wayne moved to the tune of a pre-teen, who was also, unknowingly to him, the spirit of his City.

——

“Go home.”

Tim smiled sweetly. Bruce paled. The scary, Gotham loved child patted Bruce’s hand as he sat beside Bruce’s bed.

“Sleep, before I make you.”

Bruce slammed his eyelids shut, anything to not look at Tim’s malicious looking eyes, and allowed himself- nay, forced himself- to rest for the first time in weeks since Jason died.

As Bruce’s dumb self drifted off to dreamland, Tim muttered, “Wuss.”

He settled himself into the chair, napping lightly to make sure Bruce doesn’t sneak out to work when he’s gone.

Alfred snapped a quick picture.

#Tim Drake #Tim Drake as Robin #dc x dp #batman #danny phantom #danny phantom is tim drake #danny phantom is a little shit #sassy danny #Bruce Wayne #bruce wayne getting bullied into self care #depressed Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Gotham!Danny #danny is a menace #the cave has a shower #Bruce is using the hosing down station #like the ones in labs #for safety? but Bruce is using it because it’s a quick rinse

[tuxebo]

[ 🗯 : in this line of work, you always end up alone. ]

disclaimer: i cannot control if the characters act ooc in some responses, please rate them accordingly with the stars to prevent ooc responses as you continue.

chat with mindanao ! we hit 68k interactions omg im squealing.

prev. ‹ docs. › next. (reqs are open!)

✧ — miles morales:

¹ VISITING YOUR FAVORITE SPIDER-MAN: (best friends to lovers + playdate energy) per your usual routine, you decide to visit your best friend and spend the day helping him fight crime on earth 1610.

² KISSES BEFORE DINNER: (uses of lipstick + mama rio almost catches you) you and miles were alone in his room, you on his lap as you peppered his face with kisses. not realizing how risky that was, mama rio snaps you out of the moment when she calls you to dinner.

³ FALLING ASLEEP ON CALL WITH YOUR IBF: (serious situationship? + long distance friendship) during a late night call, you decided to fall asleep on call together. as much as he'd rather hold you in his arms, this would do for now.

⁴ HE LEARNED TO RIDE A MOTORCYCLE: (established relationship + twin miles) you met your boyfriend through his twin. unlike you and his brother, miles was a goody-two-shoes so to impress you he decides to try something new.

✧ — miles morales (e42):

¹ PHOTO BOOTH KISSES: (fem! user + established relationship) some way, some how, you managed to get your boyfriend to go to a photo booth with you. deciding to take advantage of the situation, you pepper his face in kisses, leaving lipstick marks on his face.

✧ — miguel o'hara:

¹ YOU TEND TO GET INTO PETTY ARGUMENTS: (established relationship) you and your husband often find yourselves in petty disagreements. however, this time, he really pissed you off. your solution? taking your ring off.

² LYLA IS THE BEST WING-AI: (friends to lovers + lyla being a good wingwoman) miguel seemed to be the only one who didn't realize just how attached he was to you. in an attempt to get hq running back to normal, lyla calls you back to hq early.

✧ — hobart brown:

¹ KISSES THAT STING: (uses of lip plumper + established relationship) trying out a new plumper, you forgot to warn your boyfriend before giving him a kiss. now you have to explain why your lips sting and what the hell's a plumper.

² BIG BRO DUTIES: (platonic + siblings au) your brother has never had the best relationship with your parents and eventually he moved out as soon he could. as much as he didn't like them, he still cared deeply about you and decided it would be best to keep you safe in the form of his alter ego.

³ WORLDS APART: (platonic or romantic) hobie may not have a means to get to your world, but he'll find away if it means helping you. when he finds out miguel and the spider-society didn't send back up when you needed it, he does just that.

⁴ ANOTHER POINT FOR SPIDER-MAN: (enemies to lovers + hero!hobie x enemy!user) hobie was indifferent to the trivial crimes you committed but once he realized how desperate the police were to catch you, his interest was peaked.

✧ — gwen stacy:

¹ YOUR EARTH WAS ERASED: (best friends to lovers + comfort) you and gwen quickly became best friends after she joined the spider society. such close friend that she had the tendency to come into the room you had at HQ unannounced. one day, she barged in at the wrong time and finds you crying over the earth you lost.

² KISSES ARE ALWAYS THE SOLUTION: (established relationship) while helping gwen with her makeup, you accidentally apply too much lipstick. the only reasonable solution is kissing her so it transfers— obviously.

 ✧ — spider-man noir:

¹ CHESS AND EGG CREAMS: (enemies to lovers) finally, after years of searching for you, peter was able to get you to fall into a trap he crafted so carefully for you. now that you're here, why not play a little game?

² EASING A DETECTIVE OF HIS STRESS: (detective!peter x bartender!user) you couldn't help but notice that the detective that frequents your clubs has been particularly stressed lately. it wouldn't hurt to start with a drink on the house to relieve that stress.

 ✧ — jonathan ohnn (the spot):

¹ BEING THE SPOT HAS ITS PROS AND CONS: (established relationship) you are one of the only people who doesn't find your boyfriend's new form appalling. but that doesn't mean it's any less scare when his head pokes through holes in the walls.

✧ — benjamin reilly:

¹ WORKOUT ASSISTANCE: (established relationship + ben has such himbo energy and i live for it) it's no secret your boyfriend is a BIG fan of exercise, doing so all around your shared apartment. and the last time i checked, staring is no crime.

#atsv x reader #atsv x y/n #across the spiderverse #atsv c.ai #atsv character ai #atsv x you #hobie brown x reader #miguel ohara x reader #benjamin reilly x reader #miles morales x reader #gwen stacy x reader #spiderverse x reader #into the spiderverse x reader #spiderman atsv x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #jonathan ohnn x reader #the spot x reader #spiderman noir x reader

[lassieposting]

Having feelings about Garrus during a successful Suicide Mission

It's. Fairly obvious throughout the game that the massacre of Archangel's team has taken a wrecking ball to Garrus's self-confidence. He sees himself as a failure - failed C-Sec detective, failed vigilante - and blames himself for their deaths. Nalah Butler tells Shepard outright that Garrus took every shot fired at his team as a personal failure to keep them safe. He's been holding himself to impossible ideals, as turians are wont to do, and he's fallen short, and it's shaken him badly.

However. He is, honestly, the obvious choice for leader of the second fire team on the Suicide Mission. We know Miranda can run a science project, but we've never seen her lead anything in the field, let alone anything so high stakes. Garrus is the only one on the team with a proven track record of active duty, under-fire leadership skills - obviously, Miranda would have a Cerberus file which Shep would've read, as would Jacob, but their field achievements are never relevant or really mentioned in-game, whereas Archangel is mentioned in background chatter on planets halfway across the galaxy. But he doesn't volunteer, when Jack and Miranda are kicking off. If Jack is killed, he's the one who tells Miranda that half the team doesn't even trust her, but he still doesn't nominate himself as an alternative. He stays quiet and keeps his head down, and if you give him command, he just gives you a tight nod. Because he doesn't believe in his own leadership abilities anymore. He knows he got his last team killed.

By the time you meet back up with him, he hasn't lost anyone, and he's getting back into the swing of it. You've been able to hear things going well for him over the comms, and he's been checking in regularly too. And if you have him take command again, it's framed as him actually volunteering this time, and strategizing with you - "I'll take a team and do ABC..."

Shep's trust, her faith in him, the fact that she believes he is still fit to lead, gives him his confidence back. I have feelings.

#mass effect #mass effect headcanons #mass effect meta #shakarian #garrus vakarian

[odoraful]

Somnium pt1

zayne's last dream has left him shaken and he hopes to meet you again to reconcile his fears

content: dawnbreaker!zayne x reader; a direct continuation from zayne’s anecdote 'still in the dark'; 917 words a/n: spoilers for ‘still in dark’ so if you haven’t read it yet be warned! read part 2 here reading bgm ♫ Prologue V - The Weight of History's Presence

Though it had been days since that last dream, the shocked expression on your face has since haunted Zayne. 

You aren’t Dr. Zayne. Who are you?

He’d been afraid to fall back asleep again since. Those dreams he once coveted so much, desperately hoping for your warm embrace, now became a source of fear for him. In every fleeting moment you shared, he thought he’d done everything right. He played the role of that smart and reliable partner just for you. 

It had all been perfect until that last dream. 

The days from then on stretched endlessly like taffy. Zayne filled in his time doing anything he could to silence his fears. He thought often about activities Georgie would have enjoyed and made himself plans with the young boy in mind. Trying new sweets at the dessert shop, reading beside the jasmine flower field in the plaza, watching the sun set from his apartment window. Detective Ivan seemed to have kept his promise, and the public whispers of Dawnbreaker fizzled away, leaving Zayne free to carry out his duties in complete anonymity. He’d sometimes finish his day off with a visit to Georgie and his mother’s graves. During the night, he’d stay awake for as long as his body could handle until he was overcome with fatigue, passing out wherever he sat.

He found that no dreams would come if he slept this way. 

The impracticality of this type of living did not faze Zayne until he stared at his own reflection in the mirror one day. He had heavy bags under his eyes and a pallor to his face that made him almost unrecognisable to himself. He gripped the edge of the sink, a sudden nausea making his head spin.

It was foolish to continue like this. He needed to see you again. 

Perhaps he should try and talk to you without the guise of this doctor. If the dream had allowed you to speak out, then surely it would give him the same ability. He would explain himself to you, prove that he was the person you loved. These dreams he had since he was a child had shaped his entire worldview. He moulded himself to be yours. Surely, with your presence in these dreams also, they must mean something to you too. 

Yes, that would be the most sensible course of action. 

For the first time in a while, Zayne gave himself a proper night routine. Though, the flavourless nutritional liquid he downed for dinner did little to quell the anxiety in his stomach, and washing his face with cool water could not banish the heat from his cheeks. 

His mind was filled with rehearsals of what he would say to you as he laid in bed. In his periphery, he made out the dim, red glow the numbers of his alarm clock casted across the dark room. Zayne read in a medical fact sheet that it took a person around fifteen to twenty minutes to fall asleep. Turning to look at the clock, the numbers that read 23:18 dazzled his vision. 

He closed his eyes, the afterimage of the red numbers remaining behind his eyelids. His final thoughts were a plea to the stars above to let him visit you again, before he let his subconscious pull him deeper.

Zayne did not know how he arrived here, but he now stood on a gravel path beneath archways of curling shrubbery. The greenery was well manicured with small white flowers. As he inhaled, he was surprised to find the light scent of jasmine in the air. A small piece of familiarity that calmed his senses.

Stepping out from the shade and onto grass, he realised the dream was set in a garden. Benches were scattered around to provide viewing seats for the flowers, which, Zayne noticed, seemed to only be variations of different types of white flowers. Close by, there was a river dotted with clusters of lily pads and white petals that gently drifted along the surface. A bridge over the river led to a green roofed pavilion suspended atop the water. Zayne was so accustomed to his own drab and dark world that it almost hurt his eyes to gaze around this idyllic scene. The sound of indistinct chatter surrounded him, however, there were no signs of other people around no matter where he turned, save for one person he spotted standing on the grass.

Zayne exhaled a shaky breath.

A pale blue dress that stood out against the flowering white buds flitted around your legs, though his own clothes did not rustle against any breeze. Sunlight illuminated your skin, though he could not feel any warmth from its rays. His dreams had strange ways of carefully crafting his desires. You had an expectant expression on your face, glancing about in search of somebody. Zayne’s feet felt like dragging weights as he forced himself to walk, fighting off his fear of closing the distance. 

Your expression turned to delight when you saw him approaching. You waved at him, grinning. Something twisted inside him. How long had it been since he’d seen that smile? 

He put up a hand hesitantly in greeting. 

You began to walk, almost skipping towards him. Zayne almost backed away, startled by your enthusiasm. 

Only metres apart now, you suddenly froze, eyes going wide. Zayne didn’t move a muscle, feeling his own body lock up. The background chatter dissipated, as you opened your mouth to speak. The world turned silent as if in anticipation for the words you were about to say. 

“It’s- it’s you again.” 

#this anecdote has burrowed its way into my brain ever since first reading it !! #✏️〰odorawrites #love and deepspace #l&ds #lads #love and deepspace zayne #zayne love and deepspace #l&ds zayne #lads zayne #zayne #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #zayne x reader #zayne x mc #zayne x you #dawnbreaker

[christinesficrecs]

Hey Christine! What are some of your favourite deleted sterek fics?

There are so many!!! Everything by Circe6 and Grimm.

Alpha Spikes by starbeast | 70.1K | Explicit

Unchained by exclamation | 156.1K | Explicit

Werewolves are considered little better than animals and often treated much worse, forced into slavery from birth. Derek has been owned by enough humans to know their cruelty. When he’s bought by Stiles, he expects more of the same. But Stiles is not like any human he’s dealt with before.

The ETA from You to Me by tylerfucklin | 105K | Explicit

No Way Out by trilliath | 121.5K | Explicit

this town is only gonna eat you by sempiternalsea | 16.3K | Mature

On the outskirts of Stockholm, Derek takes down six men of eight with nothing but a boot knife and Stiles at his back. By the end, he’s covered in an array of bruises and blood and dirty snow, crouched low to the ground. Stiles stands by him, posture perfectly erect, Glock still raised. He’s got a smear of lipstick on his mouth and gunpowder residue on his sleeve. The men at their feet do not stir. (An AU where Stiles is a spy and Derek is his assassin.)

My Patience is a Medal by Saucery | 6.1K | Mature

Lead Me Home by Circe6

"Yeah, the world had gone to shit. What's left of it split into territories, viciously fought over andprotected, as if anything is worth protecting any more. Forests to the north, wastelands to the south.There are human territories, wolf territories, witch territories and no-man's lands, where the Chimerasrule."

A post-apocalyptic fairytale

The Silver Lining Of Smog by Circe6

Set in a dystopian future in the year 250X, where everyone lives in large metropolises known asthe Poleis. Each Poleis is controlled by the guilds and the gangs that dominate the seedy underworld.

Derek is a member of the notorious Triskele gang, working as a drug runner for his 'Uncle' Peter, who is a pimp and a ganglord. After Derek brings in a stray werefox he found on the run from the police, his entire world begins to change.

a mountain to climb by grimm | 126.4K

“Don’t do it,” he mutters. “Don’t do it, please, don’t do it.”

But there it is, a soft pink line appearing right next to the control. Stiles’ legs give out from under him; he sinks to the bathroom floor, hands shaking, his entire body shaking. It’s hard to breathe, his vision blurring around the edges. There’s a knock on the door behind him and then it opens and Scott sits down next to him.

“I’m fucked,” Stiles gasps, tears prickling at his eyes. “I’m fucked!”

Want is a Dangerous Thing by grimm | 19.2K | Explicit

It was bad enough that Derek was so terrible at meeting people that he had to buy himself a mate, but it was even worse that his mother called a pack meeting about it. Laura was never, ever going to let him live this down.

Dating Backwards by RemainNameless | 85.8K

Pornstars Derek and Stiles work for the same company. Derek only shoots with werewolves and Stiles only shoots with humans. That’s not going to change after they meet. It’s really not. (It might.)

Its Called a Heart Boner by RemainNameless | 26.7K | Mature

The five times Derek saves a very drunk Stiles and the one time Stiles saves him back.

hold on to me because I’m a little unsteady by starcanopus | 6K | Time Travel AU

show me something beautiful by starcanopus | 9K

Isaac is the one who first catches sight of the ring, an entire two months after the captain had joined the 14th precinct. It’s somewhat pathetic, really, considering the fact that an entire floor full of detectives hadn’t noticed right off the bat.

But when he does see it—a thin, silver band so innocuous that it could have just been a trick of the light—he trips headfirst into a recycling bin, earning a dirty glance from his boss through the window of the man’s office and Isaac kind of wants to sink into the ground and never come back out, but he has a duty to fulfill: spreading the news to every floor of the precinct that the captain is married.

Captain Derek Hale is married.

Circe6 | Grimm | Saucery | RemainNameless | Starcanopus.

#asks #sterek fics #deleted fics #ficrecs

[d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n]

Still be here in the morning?

Nikolai Lantsov x F!Reader

Summary: You drive Nikolai wild. You want him to see you, to see you, but you're scared. If you give in to your desires and you let yourself fall, will he still be there in the morning?

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT, LOTS OF SMUT, lots of teasing, a lil bit of angst, and some fluff. Also the reader's nickname is Mouse - but it's not a size thing, it's an occupation thing *thumbs up emoji*

Author's Note: This started off as a smut thing but became a whole story thing so enjoy ;D

It was safe to say you drove Nikolai wild. You hardly listened to his rules, questioning your Captain in his every decision and driving him crazy with your constant bickering. You knew that you could, you were Nikolai's star crewmate and he would never risk firing you. No one was a better diplomat, marksman, or sailor - except perhaps Nikolai himself. You were a good detective too - you were the only one of his crew to have figured out his true identity.

You had teased him about it on a brief visit to West Ravka - an old family painting had given it all away.

"You'll never guess what I found, Cap." You said, waltzing into his quarters and jumping up onto his desk. He tilted his face up to you - indicating that he was listening - but kept his eyes focused on the maps laid in front of him, studying new routes out west. You were only docked in Os Kervo to collect a round of new supplies - enough to keep you afloat to Novyi Zem or even further.

"Tell me, Mouse. What have you found that is so worth sharing that you break into my quarters?" He used the affectionate nickname you had picked up since joining the crew - you were quiet, almost undetectable when need by. Of course, Nikolai knew how annoying and boisterous you could get when you were comfortable. Still, the nickname had stuck. In fact, you were almost certain that aside from Nikolai, and the twins, no one could remember your true name. It didn't matter. You had moved on from that life.

"Well, Tolya and I spent most of our afternoon in the galleries in Os Kervo-"

"-leaving Tamar to collect the supplies? Yes, I heard about that. Just because you keep us out of trouble with the law does not mean that you get to delegate all your duties to someone else. We work together, Mouse, you'd do well to remember it."

"Yes, yes, she said she was fine with it. Something about getting Tolya's poetic arse off her back for a few hours," Nikolai chuckled at that, "And anyway, the interesting thing is what I found in the galleries. You see, despite the Fold, West Ravka is still a united nation-"

"I'm aware."

"Stop interrupting me!" You swatted him with a loose piece of paper on his desk, "It's rude. You'd have thought that you had some manners - what with your pretentious nature."

"Is there a point to this, Mouse? Because I suggest you get there soon."

"Well, what I was saying was, I came across a portrait. A new one - well, sort of. It had the King - Pyotr, that is - and his wife, and their sons. Did you know that they had 2? I had simply forgotten." A cheeky grin had snuck onto your face and Nikolai was now looking directly at you. You leaned in close to his ear, "I'd say they did the younger son a disservice, wouldn't you? Your Highness?"

Nikolai moved swiftly, clamping his hand down over your mouth. "Does Tolya know?"

You move his hand off your mouth, "Of course not. I'm not one to be going around spreading rumours that are not mine to spread."

"Good. And you're going to keep it that way. Especially if you want to stay on this ship."

"Oh, Nikolai. You're not going to fire me. You won't risk having the biggest threat to your secret not on your side. I'm a diplomat - I know how intimidation works," Nikolai fixes you with a stare, "Ok, I was a diplomat, whatever. Semantics. Point is, you're not going to fire me. Your secrecy depends on it."

After that day, your teasing had increased ten-fold and Nikolai's patience with you had decreased just as much. He hardly spoke to you if he didn't have orders to give you. And it pissed you off.

To be perfectly honest, you made his blood boil. Nikolai didn't know what it was about you, but you knowing who he was had tipped him over the edge. He thought that he was untraceable - a new persona, a new look. He'd made a point to never dock in Ravka - but needs must and there was no way they'd survive a trip to Kerch. They'd been running on fumes. To be honest, the trip had gone better than expected. But of all the people to find out, it just had to be you. He stewed alone in his chambers. They were currently in Novyi Zem, planning to head further west. Ravka had no power further west than Novyi Zem, a notion which many - including you - were grateful for.

He'd never taken the time to understand what you were running from - almost everyone in his crew was running from some demon, but you had never once let slip who you were before you joined Sturmhond's crew. He knew that you were a diplomat of some kind and that you were half-Ravkan, but beyond that, you were a mystery to him. Perhaps that's what pissed him off. That you knew exactly who he was and who he had been and he knew nothing about you.

A knock came at his door. Who the fuck could that be? To his knowledge, everyone was out partying in the taverns. Who could resist a peaceful night out when you spent every other night on a ship sailing in the middle of an ocean? Nikolai could. And so could this mystery person apparently. Nikolai opened his door before the guest knock again, groaning when he caught sight of who it was. You were standing at his door - coat and boots discarded and your shirt haphazardly untied. You pushed past him and made yourself comfortable in his chair, smiling as he ran a hand over his face.

"Awhh, don't look too happy to see me, Sturmhond. Or should I say, Nikolai?" You'd taken to teasing him in the privacy of his room, where you were sure no one could hear you.

"What do you want, Mouse?"

"I just wanted to see how my dear Majesty was holding up. It has been a rough week for us all."

"Cut the bullshit. I know you're here to piss me off. Not tonight, Mouse. Please."

"Ooh. I like it when you beg. Do it again." You grinned at him. You knew you were getting under his skin.

"I said not tonight. Get out, Mouse. Go piss off some drunkard in a tavern." Nikolai said, nearly pushing you out of the door. "Maybe he can fuck the attitude out of you," he whispered under his breath.

"Make me."

"I'm sorry, what?" Nikolai said, turning around to face you again.

"I said, make me, Lantsov."

"I told you to stop fucking using that name," Nikolai growled, pushing you up against the wall, his arm pushing under your boob. You flushed pink, heat pooling in your stomach.

Nikolai grinned, "Oh, I see." He looked you up and down, scanning your figure. You could feel your underwear soak with every second of his gaze.

"What do you see, Captain? Need me to get you a spyglass. Could help you-" You were cut off by Nikolai's lips on yours. They were soft, gentle, and yet demanding at the same time. It was nice. This was nice.

"Is that what you wanted, Mouse? Attention from your Captain?" The honourific felt dirty coming from his mouth. You felt the desire to push him further - to piss him off until he gave you what you wanted. What you needed.

"Are you sure it's not what you wanted Captain? You seem to be a lot more excited by this than I am."

Nikolai nearly growled at that, attaching his lips to yours again, before slipping your belt off. He slipped his hands down to your core, feeling the wetness and smirking.

"Not as excited as me, huh?" He rubbed a circle around your clit and watched your defenses crumble. You grabbed a fistful of his jacket in your hand as your hips bucked away from him.

Nikolai lifted you up easily, depositing you on his desk, "I wanted to fuck you that day. When you hopped up on this desk and threatened me the first time. Should've done it. Should've shown you exactly who the boss is around here."

He grabbed the small knife he kept in his breast pocket off the desk and flicked it open. You gasped. Nikolai grazed the knife against the outside of your hip, slicing cleanly through your underwear. You were glad you'd taken off your stays earlier - you weren't sure if you could survive him ruining your most comfortable stays.

He placed a gentle kiss on your throat before pulling your shirt off. He gazed at you, momentarily starstruck, before latching his mouth onto your nipple. A hand came up to toy with the other, and you dissolved into a moaning mess.

He pulled away from your nipple to grin at your state. You looked at him breathlessly, grinning, "Is that all you've got, Lantsov."

His stare turned dark. He dove down and buried himself in your pussy. He licked and nipped, flicking your clit with his tongue. He played you like a well-tuned instrument. He fucked your hole with his tongue - alternating between stroking your walls with his tongue and sucking on your clit.

Your orgasm washed over you unexpectedly, sending waves of pleasure through your veins. You clamped your thighs around Nikolai's head, throwing your head back as you cried out.

Nikolai lifted his head up, eyes glinting dangerously, wetness smeared all around his lips. He looked devious. In that moment, he was not Nikolai Lantsov, spare to the Lantsov name, but Sturmhond, masterful privateer, Captain of Volkvolny. You loved him for it.

"You've caused me a lot of trouble, Mouse."

"What are you going to do about it?" You bit your lip, hiding a smirk.

He threw his coat off, carrying you towards his bed. You were lucky that no one else was on board - if they heard what was going on you'd never live it down.

Nikolai laid you on the bed, stripping his clothes off at extraordinary speed. He was quickly inside you, eliciting whimpers from you at every movement. He gave you a moment to adjust before he started to thrust. His hips snapped into you at an ungodly pace and it was all that you could do to not fall apart on his cock.

Nikolai grinned at your silence, his eyes scanning over you. Your face was blissed out, eyes rolling to the back of your head every so often. Sweat glistened on your skin, as you rocked forwards at the force of his every thrust. He couldn't help the small praises that fell from his lips as you moaned lowly.

"Look at you, so fucking beautiful under me, spread out for me like a whore. That's what you are, my beautiful little whore." You moaned at the filth dripping out of his mouth, "What's wrong, sweetheart? Have I fucked the little mouse stupid? No words left to taunt me now, huh?" You moaned softly, your mouth almost stuck in the shape of an 'O'. "Maybe I should do this more often, keep you quiet for longer." You nodded your head, head too foggy to come up with another smart-ass response.

Your second and third orgasms crashed over you in quick succession - Nikolai clamped his hand over your mouth as you screamed 'Nikolai' over and over again. He promised that next time he'd fuck that name out of your brain, before pulling out and cumming all over your chest.

You lay on his bed - dazed from the intense fucking you just received. You were surprised to find yourself alone in Nikolai's bed - he'd disappeared moments after cumming. He'd said something but you were still coming down from your last high when he moved away. You began to spiral. Of course, he was only fucking you to teach you a lesson - why else would he be interested in you? You idiot! He's the prince of fucking Ravka and the Captain of this ship. What do you have that would interest him, apart from your bratty mouth and attitude? He said it himself - the attitude pissed him off.

You were startled when something cold made contact with your chest. You looked up to find Nikolai with something in his hand - a wet washcloth, maybe? - and a sheepish grin on his face. He was still naked, his hair still tousled and his face still flushed. An involuntary beam broke out across your face. He didn't leave you after all.

Nikolai was taken by surprise at the tears that gathered on your lash line. He pulled you up into his chest when you were clean, sitting on the edge of his bed with you held tightly in his arms.

"Hey, hey, hey." He said, drawing mindless shapes on your back as tears streamed down your face, "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" He was confused - surely, if he hurt you, you wouldn't be seeking comfort in him.

His heart slowed slightly when you shook your head, but the confusion remained.

"Talk to me, Mouse. What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"It's stupid."

"It's not. If it matters to you, then it matters to me. Tell me, whatever it is, I'll fix it." Another wave of emotion washed over you. You climbed into his lap and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

"I thought you were mad." You whispered quietly, almost hoping he wouldn't hear you and that he would let it go.

"Why would I be mad?"

"You left." You shrugged, "You left and I thought you were gone for good." He pressed a kiss to your temple and pulled your head into his chest.

"Oh, Mouse. For all your genius, you are oblivious." You looked up at him, confused. "I love you, Mouse. I always have." You shook your head, "What?"

"You're just saying that." You said, tears filling your lash line again as you tried to pull away, "You're just saying that 'cause you fucked me and you don't want me to leave." You tried to move out of his arms but he held you firmly. You hit his chest, trying to force yourself off him, but he stood his ground. Eventually, you just melted into his arms - he held you as you cried, hands stroking your hair soothingly.

You calmed down slowly, chest heaving as you tried to replenish your lungs. You stayed relaxed in his arms. He laid his head on top of yours. "Wanna tell me what that was about?"

You shook your head.

"Do you trust me?"

You nodded your head.

"Do you trust me enough to believe me when I say I love you?"

You hesitated.

"Well, we've found our problem."

"You don't love me."

"How do you know? You been inside my head? Pretty sure even Grisha can't do that." You chuckled.

"You hate me. You can't even look at me - let alone talk to me for long enough to fall in love with me."

"I can't look at you because if I start looking I'll never look away. I can't talk to you because I look like a fool every time I try and string two words together in front of you. Ask Tolya - he'll tell you how hopelessly in love with you I am. And for someone who's not interested in romance, he's a fucking hopeless romantic." His words involuntarily brought a smile onto your face.

You looked into his eyes, "You're sure you love me?"

"Honey, you drive me wild."

You nestled into his arms, and he leaned you both back onto the bed. Your head hit his pillow and suddenly you're surrounded by him. His arms wrap around you tightly, his pillow smells like him, his face is right next to yours. It's nice. Comforting.

You looked up into his face, studying his features while he slept. He was pretty - objectively. His face was long - pointy. Someone had done a terrible job of fixing his broken nose - but it seemed off at a second glance. He seemed so different than the paintings in the gallery - more difference than age alone could bring. His eyes were the giveaway - they were muddy green at first glance but under the right light and if you stared long enough, they were the same hazel green as the ones in the painting. You reached up to stroke his face. How long would this all last? How long until he wouldn't be able to play pretend anymore? How long until he had to go back to being Prince Nikolai Lantsov of Ravka? How long did you have with him in this beautiful bubble that you had created? You could already hear the rest of the crew filtering in from their nights out.

A hand came up to wrap around yours, "Sleep, Mouse. I'll still be here in the morning."

You smiled. He'd still be here in the morning.

fin.

#grishaverse #nikolai lantsov #netflix shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov being kind #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lantsov my beloved #nikolai lantsov x you #no y/n #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfic #nikolai x reader #siege and storm #nikolai lantsov imagine #shadow and bone x reader

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 18

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 4,000 Tags/Warnings: Angst, fluff, brief mentions of the events of Part 13, some ADA Sam, Detective John, and a cliffhanger…

Part 18: “V for Vendetta”

After that first rocky month, Dean started to improve physically, and so did you emotionally, as he tried his best to let you help him when he needed it. 

In turn, you did your best to gauge his moods; when he truly did need help, and when it was best for you to just be his girlfriend, not his caretaker.

January rolled onwards, and the resulting winter cold snap brought a kind of calm before a storm. Nick Savage still hadn’t been found, but that didn’t mean your worries were over.

Dean knew that this would hang over all of your heads until both Nick and his father were caught and exposed.

Today Dean walked with Sam on his day off, doing a few laps around the neighborhood as part of Dean’s rehab. They knew a police car was stationed nearby, watching them for their safety. It was a bit unnerving, but necessary.

They were walking back into the building when Sam stopped to check the mail. The box for their unit was along the wall in the corridor with several other locked boxes. Sam unlocked theirs and pulled out a rolled-up newspaper, some coupons, and a stray folded note addressed to Dean. Sam’s brows furrowed.

“What’s that, a love note?” Dean asked dryly. He took it from Sam and unfolded the scrap of paper.

20579. Your badge will join your dad’s on the wall.

Both the Fire Department headquarters and the 84th Precinct had a wall to commemorate firefighters and officers who had given their lives in the line of duty. Each of their badges had their own display plaque hung on the respective walls.

In short, the note was a threat.

Sam’s worried frown deepened as he watched Dean’s good mood evaporate. He crumpled up the note and pocket it, before he met his younger brother’s eyes.

“Keep this between us,” he warned. As in, don’t tell you.

Sam shook his head. “Dad needs to know, at least. And you two need to be careful.” 

“That goes for you and Eileen too,” Dean replied. He reached for Sam’s shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t matter that you’re an ADA. Azazel goes after cops and their families. He’s gonna be gunning for an opportunity to get to one of us.”

Sam’s lips pressed together, but he acknowledged that with a nod.

They went back upstairs together, where you were dressed casually and gathering up your purse.

“Heading out somewhere?” Dean asked. Sam shot him a glance, which Dean silently answered with a short nod. He looked back at you when you offered him a smile.

“Yep, we need a few things. Milk, eggs, more Twizzlers, apparently,” you quipped, lightly smacking his stomach. Dean quirked a smile.

“Give me a sec. I’ll go with you,” he said.

You made an uncertain sound. “Didn’t you just get back from a walk? You sure you don’t just want to shower up and relax?”

“I’m good,” said Dean. He knew you didn’t like the idea of him overexerting himself, but he didn’t feel comfortable letting you go out alone. He could tell by the look Sam once again threw his way from the kitchen that he didn’t think it was a good idea either.

Dean slid a hand up your arm. “How about this. I’ll stay in the car. I just want some more fresh air.”

You tilted your head at him, but you conceded. He followed you to the door and held it open for you.

“Can I drive?” Dean hedged.

You chuckled. “Don’t push it, Lieutenant.”

On the way back from the grocery store, you discreetly eyed Dean’s profile. His knee was bouncing as he stared out the window.

Sometimes he checked the rearview mirror of your Camaro. Sometimes he fiddled with the radio or checked his phone.

It was all nervous behavior you took a catalogue of. By the time you pulled back into the parking lot of Dean’s apartment building, he finally seemed to relax a fraction. You parked the car and turned to him. 

“Okay, what’s the matter?” you asked.

Dean gave you a curious look, but there was an unmistakable tension in his demeanor.

“What do you mean?”

You tried your question a different way. “What’s got you all on edge?”

He didn’t seem to want to answer at first.

“Dean,” you prodded. “Does it have something to do with why you insisted on coming with me, even though I can see that you’re tired?”

His face tightened, but he reached over for your hand. Your fingers curled around his. Now you were getting worried.

“We’ve got the police watching us here, but anything could happen out there,” Dean said. “Until this blows over, I don’t think you should go out by yourself.”

Until this blows over. You wanted to ask when that would be, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to give you an answer.

“Zachariah called me this morning,” you admitted. “He’s standing in for Nick as CEO. He said I have a job waiting for me when I get off medical leave next week. Everyone’s been working from home since the fire, but we’d be going to a new building the company owns downtown.”

Dean tightened up, just like you knew he would. His eyes closed as his head tilted back against the headrest. He let out a long breath through his nose. You stayed quiet, both waiting for what he might say and preparing for him to get upset.

He surprised you by calmly looking over at you again.

“It’s not a good idea. If Nick’s still alive, it means his dad probably knows you know who he is,” he said. “And not for nothin’. Even with Nick out of there, that place’s probably been built on blood money.”

Both were fair points.

“I know. I’m going to find something else, as soon as you’re better,” you said. Dean shook his head and held your hand tighter.

“Don’t let me be an excuse,” he said. His gaze was firm and direct meeting yours. “I need you to start taking care of yourself too, all right? Please.” 

Faced with his earnestness, you couldn’t help but soften. After everything he’d done to save you, to protect you, was it fair of you to keep making him worry?

In the past, you’d felt justified. You couldn’t quit. You needed the money. You could handle it, whatever came next. You would deal with it because you had to.

But maybe this time, you didn’t have to. It wasn’t worth all this.

With that resolve, you let out a breath.

“I’m going to call Zachariah,” you said, “and tell him that I’m working from home, or I quit.”

Dean stared back at you with a measure of surprise.

“I’m not going back,” you said, squeezing his hand. “If he has a problem with that, I’ll use whatever I have left in my savings. Hopefully that’ll be enough until I find a new job.”

After a moment, Dean expelled a breath of relief. He beckoned you over, and carefully as you could over the upholstery, you leaned over and caressed his cheek before you went in for a kiss. He welcomed you, with his hands slipping up your sides and around your back, pressing you into him with a heady warmth.

He paused against your lips after a while. His forehead rested against yours.

“You don’t need to drain your savings. I can help you,” Dean started to say, but you pulled back and held your fingers to his lips.

“You’ve helped me enough. You’re already letting me live with you rent free,” you pointed out. “Let me figure out the rest.”

After a moment, Dean wordlessly agreed. He wanted to argue that you wouldn’t have had to move in with him if not for Azazel putting you in his sights, but at the same time, Dean understood that you’d been providing for yourself for a long time. He respected you for it.

So he just guided you back to him for another slow kiss.

John Winchester owned a condo approximately 20 minutes from his sons’ apartment. It was the home they’d grown up in after the house fire, over thirty years ago.

John had learned a lot since then. In fact, some might say that he’d become a paranoid bastard.

Aside from a professional alarm system, he’d installed hidden cameras inside and out of his home, and at every window. It meant that even when he was asleep, his eyes were never truly closed.

When the intruder took his first steps into John’s bedroom, the man himself was waiting with a gun cocked and loaded. The safety clicking back made a small sound, but in the silence, it might as well have been a gunshot.

The masked man swiftly turned and ducked, throwing a punch. The scuffle that followed was quick and covered by darkness.

The cameras on “Night Mode” picked up every moment.

And that was how John later showed video evidence of Alastair Rolston breaking into his condo, and subsequently getting his ass handed to him.

Both men had their fair share of bruises, but at the end of the day, Alastair was the one cuffed to a chair in the bowels of the 84th Precinct. He sat beside his court-appointed lawyer.

Meanwhile, Cas watched the scene from behind the one-way glass window of the interrogation room. Rufus Turner, their Lieutenant, was beside him, along with ADA Sam Winchester. He watched the man his father questioned very carefully. 

“Well, I think you know what this means, Mr. Rolston,” John drawled.

Alastair’s stance in the chair was relaxed, almost unfazed. He gave the detective a wry smile.

“What’s that, John?” he asked.

“I’ve got you dead to rights on attempted murder of a cop,” said John. “It ain’t a good look, my friend.”

“Don’t answer that,” said the lawyer. Alastair glanced at the man, unimpressed, to say the least.

“No shit,” he replied.

“I’d say you’ve got two options,” John pressed forward. He leaned on the table between him and Alastair.

“Did Azazel…excuse me, Daniel Savage, put you up to this? You can answer that question, or I could just skip to the part where you sit in a cell for 20 to life.”

Alastair’s face gave away nothing but calculation and amusement. John nodded, with a grim smile.

“I’ll bet you set the fire at Savage & Co. Trying to get Nick to look like a victim in all this—the consequence of doing business with the likes of Azazel,” he said. “Better yet, I think you’re his favorite hitman. Clean, precise, no tracks left behind, no traces of evidence. Perfect kills. I’ll bet you consider yourself a goddamn artist.”

Alastair lifted his gaze, and John saw the familiar depths of a killer.

“I don’t like setting fires,” said Alastair.

John was nonplussed. “I’m sure you don’t.”

The other man rolled his shoulders.

“It’s all very…messy, you see. Unpredictable.” A smile graced his lips. “But I know someone who does.”

“He’ll give you his employer,” the lawyer said. “The person who ordered the hit.”

“Which hit?” John arched a brow. “I can’t be the only special one. What about Paul Richardson, Jerry Stillwell, Amanda Waller?”

The lawyer shared a look with his client. Alastair rolled his eyes and leaned over to whisper in his ear. After a moment, the lawyer nodded and met John’s gaze.

“He’ll tell you what you want to know, but only for a blanket deal of immunity.”

John could’ve guessed. Alastair smiled once more and leaned back in his seat.

The detective held up a finger and exited the interrogation room. He met Sam’s gaze, and the latter already knew what his father was thinking.

"Give me a minute," Sam said. He went into the room and tried to negotiate with Alastair and his lawyer, but the man wouldn't accept a plea of 20 to 25 years, even to serve all the murders they could charge him with concurrently. Nor would he accept 15 to 20, or even Sam's best deal: 10 to 12.

Sam exited the room and hid his discouragement. He met his father's waiting gaze.

“We can’t give him immunity,” Sam said. “He’s likely the one who committed Azazel’s hits. Not just for the past six months, but for God knows how long, and how many bodies.”

“At this point, it’s the only way we’re getting a chance at Daniel Savage,” John said. “Not just finding him, but pinning him as the mastermind behind the whole operation. Drug trafficking, arson, murders…the whole thing, Sam.”

Sam didn’t like it. No one did, for that matter, but even Rufus heaved a sigh.

“You can’t move forward without a trigger finger willing to testify,” he said.

“Yeah, because hitmen make notoriously credible witnesses,” Sam retorted.

“Do think he set the fires as well?” Cas asked John. “He seemed to imply that he committed the murders, but not the arson.”

John hummed in contemplation.

“We’ll find out. But first, I want a confirmed name from the horse’s mouth,” he said, shifting his attention to Sam. “Can you get me that, son?” 

Sam’s lips pursed.

Within an hour, the paperwork was drawn and the plea deal was arranged. Father and son sat side by side on one side of the interrogation room, while Alastair and his lawyer sat on the other. Alastair finished signing the final document as the cuffs on his wrists jangled.

“All right,” said John. “Tell me what I want to know.”

Alastair smiled and spread his hands as wide as he was able.

“I’m an open book, Johnny. Ask away.”

John leaned forward.

“Let’s start with this,” he said. “Who ordered you to kill me?”

Nick Savage was unearthed from a luxury apartment in the south of France. He was extradited back the United States and hauled into a courtroom in Lawrence, Kansas for arraignment.

Sam Winchester was the prosecutor on the case. As luck would have it, one of his favorite judges was also assigned for this docket.

“What do we have here?” asked Judge Devereaux. He was a portly man, short and graying, with square black glasses that framed his perpetually surly face. The man now adjusted his glasses so he could read the slip of paper the clerk had just handed to him after reading off the docket.

The charges included four counts of murder in the first degree: the murders-for-hire, enacted by Alastair Rolston.

Followed by attempted murder in the first degree, ten counts of murder in the second degree (those who had lost their lives in the most recent building fire), conspiracy to commit murder, arson, and if that weren’t enough, a charge each of attempted sexual assault and sexual harassment.

When the last two charges were read out loud in the courtroom, Nick looked visibly angry.

Sam glanced over at the defendant with thinly veiled satisfaction. Some days, it was difficult for him to come to work.

Today was not that day.

“All right, that is a laundry list of potential misdeeds,” Judge Deveraux remarked. He looked up at Nick Savage. “How does the defendant plead?”

At the prodding of his lawyer, Amelia Richardson, Nick spoke up.

“Not guilty,” he said. Though he rolled his eyes, as if this was a waste of his time.

“What’s the deal here, Mr. Winchester?” Judge Devereaux asked.

“The primary charge is a murder-for-hire, your Honor,” Sam replied. “Mr. Savage hired a hitman to murder at least five people, and succeeded with four. He also masterminded several arsons. This includes a fire at his own company building, which claimed the lives of ten people and injured several others. This is all part of a larger connection to organized crime, which the People intend to prove in our case. Due to the nature of the charges, and the defendant clearly being a flight risk, we seek his remand to custody without bail.”

The judge raised his brows. He turned to the defendant’s lawyer.

“What about it, Miss Richardson?”

Amelia shot Sam a glance, but she replied to the judge.

“What we have here is a conflict of interest, your Honor,” she said. “Detective John Winchester has a vendetta against my client. Therefore, Mr. Winchester should recuse himself. It’s a family affair, Judge, and they have no evidence for any of these charges, except for the testimony of a confessed murderer.”

“It’s called prosecutorial discretion,” Sam cut in. “Our evidence goes beyond Mr. Rolston’s testimony and will more than support our case. I’ve also tried my father’s cases before, your Honor. This defendant is no different.”

The judge peered closer at the docket with incredulous eyes.

“Except for the fact that one of the attempted murders was on your father. John Winchester?” Judge Devereaux actually chuckled. “Oh, Mr. Savage. Many have tried and failed on that regard.”

“Judge,” Amelia tried, but Devereaux waved her off. Sam took in that small victory without giving anything away outwardly. The fact that John was on the docket as a “victim” was easily Sam’s biggest challenge in this arraignment, but he just couldn’t hand this off to another prosecutor.

“And what’re these last charges about?” the judge asked.

“Mr. Savage attempted to sexually assault one of his employees at a company Christmas party in the defendant’s home, your Honor,” Sam replied. His gaze once again cut over to Nick, who glared back at him with a sneer.

“That’s a goddamn lie!” Nick shouted.

Amelia grabbed his arm and tried to shut him up, but Nick jerked out of her grasp.

“Put a gag on your client or I will, Miss Richardson,” Devereaux warned with a deepening frown.

“Hey,” Amelia hissed a whisper, grabbing the sleeve of Nick’s suit jacket this time. “Get it together and shut your mouth. Remember where you are.”

He ignored her to try and speak to the judge himself. 

“That bitch tased me. Did she tell you that?” Nick levied Sam a look, before he turned back to Devereaux. “Yeah, she assaulted me, Judge. So that charge is fucking bogus.”

“I’ve heard quite enough!” Devereaux snapped. He raised his gavel and slammed it down loud enough for Nick to flinch. “The defendant is remanded to custody, without bail.”

It was more satisfying than John would admit.

While the development wasn’t exactly what he had expected, having Daniel Savage’s son dragged out of his new prison home to sit in another musty holding cell was the highlight of the new year.

This was the poor excuse for a man who’d given him such a headache these past few months. This was the little shit that nearly got his son killed, and who’d been terrorizing you for months, if not years.

But he would be a means to an end.

“I’ll tell ya what, Nick. You don’t look like a man that could organize a handful of murders and arsons, but here we are,” John said.

He scratched the back of his head and sat on the corner of the desk. Sam was seated across from Nick, and Cas was hanging back within the cell, watching the exchange (and watching Nick’s reactions for any tells).

On the other side sat Nick himself, dressed down in his gray prison garb. It was a far cry from the $5,000 suit he wore in the arraignment. Next to him was his lawyer, Amelia Richardson.

“Is there a question in there somewhere?” she asked. She shot Sam a glance.

They had dated in law school for a few months. It had ended abruptly when her husband returned from Afghanistan. It had been a shock to both of them, since the man had been presumed dead.

Clearly, Sam had moved on since then. He was happier with Eileen than he ever was, but he could tell that Amelia had never quite recovered from the “what could’ve been” of their relationship.

Still, Sam had set all that aside the moment he stepped into this room. He watched his father work.

“Why did you set fire to your own building?” John asked.

He’d expected Nick to be more explosive with his denials, but the man was quietly simmering, like he just wanted the questioning to be over. It reminded John of when his sons were teenagers. Maybe he hadn’t been the perfect father, but intuition was telling him something…

“You didn’t do it, did you?” John mused. “At least, not that fire.”

It was interesting, however, that Alastair had pinned the Savage & Co. fire on the son—that Nick had started it himself, along with the other arsons. Alastair had just been the muscle, committing the murders and the brandings on the victims.

John wasn’t so sure he believed that. He leaned in a bit and gave Nick a wry smile.

“Did Daddy do that one for ya?” he asked.

At that, Nick held firm. “My father has nothing to do with this.”

Hmm, a bit of familial loyalty? Maybe trying to prove himself, John detected. How far is he willing to go to protect his dad?

“So you did do it, along with the other arsons,” John said.

“Are you trying to get him to confess without a plea deal?” Amelia snarked.

“I’m trying to figure out how badly this kid wants to stay out of jail for the rest of his life,” John said.

“I’m not a fucking kid,” Nick grumbled.

“If you have something for us on Daniel Savage, then we’re willing to listen,” Sam added. “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in jail?”

Nick crossed his arms, clearly uncooperative.

Sam narrowed his gaze. “This is your last chance, Nick.”

“You don’t have anything on me except for the word of a murdering felon,” Nick retorted. “I’ll beat this trial in a few months and I’ll be out free…but if you really want to know, I’ll let you in on a little something.”

He leaned in, meeting John’s eyes.

“Dad retaliates,” said Nick. “I think you know that best of all, Detective. This time, I think it’s one son for another. And you’ve got two to pick from.”

“Nick,” Amelia warned, but he ignored her.

He glanced at a carefully stoic Sam before he smirked in John’s face, which had become devoid of all humor and revealed the stoniness underneath.

“If I were a betting guy, I’d put my money on the one that had a fucking building fall on him.”

After leaving the county jail, John drove Sam and Cas back to his sons’ apartment. They couldn’t treat Nick’s warning as an idle threat.

Sam was the prosecutor on the case. He wasn’t willing to step down, so the best they could do for him was give him a police security detail that would have to be with him at all times. However, all three men agreed that you, Dean, and Eileen needed to be put in protective custody during the trial.

“Damn it, Dean,” Sam muttered. His brother wasn’t answering his cell.

“Try him again,” said John.

“Is Eileen still at work?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, but she’s talking to the principal now about a temporary replacement for her classes,” Sam replied. He was worried about her safety, but he was also worried about you and Dean. Neither of you were answering your cell phones.

He later let John and Cas into his apartment, where all looked normal and clean.

“Dean!” Sam called out. He was just about to search the apartment when the man came out of his room, looking freshly showered.

“Hey, what’s up?” said Dean. “The gang’s all here, huh?”

“I’ve been calling you for an hour. Where’ve you been?” Sam asked in annoyance, though it was edged with a hint of more that tipped off Dean.

He sensed the tension in the room between his brother, his father, and his friend. He frowned.

“I had a doctor’s appointment. Why?”

John explained the latest round of questioning with Nick Savage, and his most recent threat. John asked where you were right now, if not in the apartment. Dean’s expression shifted to one of worry as he went to find his cell phone.

“She had a job interview,” he admitted, scrolling through his phone to find your name. “She couldn’t reschedule it, else she would’ve gone with me.”

He’d been uneasy about you going to the interview by yourself, but you hadn’t wanted him to change his appointment, and you had assured him it was only a few minutes away…

Dean held the phone to his ear and waited what felt like an eternity as it rang.

Pick up. Pick up, damn it.

Finally, the line connected.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted…but you didn’t answer.

“You there?” he asked. There was a pit forming in his stomach when he glanced up at John. His father met his gaze with furrowed brows that betrayed concern.

The line was silent for one more painful moment. Dean opened his mouth to call out to you again, but a smooth voice interrupted.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” a man replied. “Forgetting something?”

AN: 🫣 Sorry lol.

But the next chapter will bring the final showdown...

Next Time:

Dean’s heart began to pound. His mouth parted, but for a moment, the words wouldn’t escape.

“Who is this?” he said. His voice was a hint unsteady.

“I think you know, son,” the man replied.

Keep Reading: PART 19

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @a-very-supernatural-christmas @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#V for Vendetta #Smoke Eater #Part 18 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #john winchester #sam winchester #Castiel #zepskies writes

[manfuckthisimout]

This look RAHHHHHH

Your relationship with your boss was an odd one. It was obvious to everyone in the precinct that you and the detective were more than just boss and secretary. But you would never admit that, and August D had a weird way of showing his fondness. It was the same way every workday—come in at 6:30, find the detective already at his desk, make him coffee, start the day. He would fuss and scold you for little things, make excuses to stay at your desk and talk to you.

You two kind of danced around each other, an unspoken possessive from the detective, and you playing coy until he finally fesses up that he likes you.

He storms out of his office while you’re scheduling his next meeting.

“Didn’t I tell you not to mix up these documents?” he says, holding up a manila file folder. He looks quite frustrated, cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth, suit jacket off and sleeves rolled past his forearms.

Yelling at you like this does virtually nothing in his favor—if anything it just makes you rub your thighs together. “I’m sorry sir,” you smooth out, batting your eyelashes up at him. “I thought your desk needed some tidying, and you were out in a case so..” He gives you a pointed look. “That doesn’t give you a reason to touch anything in my office. If I want you to tidy anything of mine, I’ll ask you to.” You nod, turning your attention back to the computer screen in front of you.

“Did you schedule my meeting with Captain Jung?” He asks, leaning over the front of your desk. You can feel him staring into your forehead, almost trying to make you squirm in your seat. “Of course sir, I just finished. Your meeting is for 4:30 today.” “Good.” He gives you one last long look over before pushing off your desk and walking back into his office.

You look up from your computer, staring at the deep mahogany that separates you and your boss. “Y’know, we have a running bet pool on which of you is gonna confess first.” Your coworker, Su-min slides over to your desk and props her hand under her chin. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing going on between me and him,” you sigh. “Sure. Tell it to the rest of us.” She chides back. “Don’t you have a case to be doing right now? That missing girl right? How long has it been?” “About a week or so. I really hope we can find her alive, but it’s starting to look grim.” She grimaces. “I hope you end up finding her either way—“

“Y/N! My office, now!”

Suddenly his door was cracked, and you could see him walking back to his desk, waiting for you.

You turn to Su-min and grimace. “Duty calls. Tell me about the case after I get done with this.” She grins at you. “Don’t start fooling around in there, keep it PG!” You roll your eyes, standing from your desk and walking into the detective’s office.

“You called for me detective?” You answer sweetly. “Sit. I have something to talk to you about.” You sit in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, feeling his eyes on you the whole time. He gets up and rounds the front of his desk, leaning against it to look at you better. “We’ve known each other for quite sometime now,” he starts, arms folded and head down. He smirks. “You and I both know that I’ve been dancing around you these past years-“ “Is that what you call it sir?” He pauses. “Excuse me?” “Is that what you call it, this situation I mean. I was very aware of your feelings about me from the day we met sir. The whole precinct knows how you act around me.” “..I’ve been that bad at hiding it then?” “Pretty much.”

He sighs. “I know I haven’t been…vocal..about my feelings for you. I’d like to fix that. Do you want to go to lunch with me sometime?” You smile at his bluntness. He’s always been bad with words like this, saving his poetical vocabulary for high-stress situations with criminals. “What’s so funny?” He asks, brow raised, smile on his face. “You are. You’re so bad with words sir..” You giggle. He leans down, gripping either side of the arms on the chair. He’s so close to you now, noses almost touching. “I am, hm? And that’s funny?” You nod. He chuckles. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you.” “Lunch right? What time?” “Lunch time.” You grimace. “Well, I assumed that much. 12 or 1?” “12:30.” “12:30 it is. I’ll mark it on your personal calendar.”

He lifts himself from his position, rounding his desk again and sitting in his chair. He stares at you longingly. “I’d suggest you get back out there. Wouldn’t want to keep the office waiting on who won that bet.” You chuckle. “Yes sir.”

Second fic rawr

This came to me in a feverish daydream

Also because of boredom

Hope you like!!

#min yoongi #yoongi #suga #boyfriend yoongi #min yoongi x reader #suga fanfic #suga fluff #suga x reader #suga x y/n #suga x you #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #min yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi gif #haegeum #haegeum yoongi x reader #suga smut #bts suga #secretary x boss #idk what this is #came to me in a fever dream I guess #actual fic is otw I just have to figure out wtf I’m going to write lollll #hope y’all enjoy

[urlranpo]

BSD | Where's the Dessert?

summary | how the ada boys eat you out

ft | dazai, ranpo, fukuzawa, kunikida, atsushi

warnings | smut, cunnlingus, degradation (dazai, slightly ranpo)

▿▿▿▿▿▿▿▿▿

Dazai

His silver tongue is a dangerous weapon, and he knows it. It's not often that Dazai is between your legs since he much rather be inside you, but when he is, he teases you to tears and laughs about it.

"You're really just a slut, you know that? Moaning loud enough where we're sure to get a complaint from the neighbors and all I'm doing is making a mess of your sloppy pussy," his voice is too causal that it's demeaning as he stares you down from in between your legs. The haze in his eyes scream evil and you're inclined to believe it.

Whining you try to protest, but he only shuts you up the second he clicks his tongue and shakes his head, "Well I guess I'm just going to have to treat you like the whore you are, aren't I?" Instantly his tongue finds its way to your wet heat and one of his thumbs press lightly against your clit, making you shiver.

You can feel his smirk against your folds as his tongue laps at you. And when it's all over he won't be shy to admit that you look adorable when you come over his mouth.

Ranpo

Is there anyone better suited for the job than the world's greatest detective? There's nothing more that Ranpo loves than delving into your sweetness and making you shake from his tongue alone. He's not usually the giving type and that will not change. When he goes down on you, he's doing it for himself. Ranpo can't help but want his next dessert to be you since you're his favorite sweet to eat.

As you have your legs wrapped around his head, he's doing his best while pouting because you won't stop squirming around while he's trying to enjoy himself. Selfishly, he holds your hips down, "Stop moving will ya?! It's my snack break and you're ruining it." There's a frown on his lips, but you swear to god that he smiles the second he presses his face against your heat again. The little shit.

You're about to tell him off but are abruptly cut off by your own moan. Ranpo snickers and pulls away just to see your fucked out expression he loves so much. He's sure to tease you later about it, but for now all he cares about is shoving his tongue into your soaked cunt. Lord knows how much he loves to drink you up like you're the last meal he'll ever have.

Fukuzawa

If there's one person to treat your pussy like it's his only duty, it's Fukuzawa. There's no man that's more delicate and precise with every movement and touch he gives you. You swear you almost fall on the spot when he lays down flat on his back and beckons you over with the curl of his finger.

The first couple of times he was bashful at the mere thought of preforming oral, but the grip he has on your thighs the moment you're hovering over his face, tells you he's since overcame that. He's all too eager to please you and gets to work almost immediately, but not before biting the inside of one of your thighs. He needs to leave a mark, or he won't be satisfied.

He'll have you in tears within the first few minutes. With his tongue pressed against your clit and one of his fingers sneaking into your dripping hole, he'll grunt at the sound of your whines. He pretends he hates to see you cry, but he really, he adores your whimpers and cries for him to slow down (though he'll never admit that to you).

Momentarily, while you're clamping your thighs around his head, he'll pull back and scold you, "Darling, don't start crying when I've only just started."

Kunikida

To this day, Kunikida is self-conscious about going down on you. No matter how many times he finds his face in-between your thighs, it's like the first time all over again. He finds himself staring down at your heat, blush covering the entirety of his face and neck. Almost every day of his life he's in danger, yet he's still acts like the virgin you first met when you started dating.

Kunikida gulps as he's kneeled down in front of your bare pussy. There's a meticulous method he has stored in head when he begins to trail light feathery kisses to the insides of your thighs. They lead all the way up before he stops just before he gets to where you want him most.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers before he leaves soft presses of his lips along your slit. He's so gentle and sweet, and before the night is over, he promises that you'll be satisfied with his performance

Atsushi

Your sweet, sweet little Atsushi. There will never be a time he's confident enough to give you the pleasure you deserve. Every time he even thinks about going down you out, he grows anxious. Not because he doesn't want to, because there's nothing he wants more, but because he's not necessarily confident in his ability.

However, with some reassure here, and some praise there, he's glowing with anticipation. Atsushi literally tears your underwear into shreds and promises that he'll buy you new ones, but for now he needs to eat you out.

"Baby, you're so sweet. Could stay here for hours," he sighs delightedly, cheek rested against your inner thigh and eyes trained on your cute face. He's so in love with you.

So, when he does get back to work, there's something carnivorous about him. Atsushi practically has to pin your hips down because you won't stop shaking. He feels so proud, yet underserving when he hears you mewl out his name over and over again.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #dazai #ranpo #fukuzawa #atsushi #kunikida #bsd imagines #bsd headcanons #smut #ranpo edogawa #dazai osamu #fukuzawa yukichi

[koostarcandy]

whole damn world

summary: a night where jungkook and you just can't fall asleep. ensue the cutest night you've ever had, including karaoke, chicken, watching modern family and loving on your adorable son.

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, fluff and fluff.

wc: 923 words (issa baby 🤕)

a/n: guess who's gonna drop this and then pull a jungkook :]

"you're just fake snoring now, it doesn't even help!"

"i counted 837 sheep, sprayed our pillow mist and even played the dreamy lofi playlist we made and it got over. i have to resort to other measures, sweetheart."

you gasp, sitting up and throwing off the comforter, suddenly running to the living room. jungkook's tired brain short circuits, glancing around the room to see if you running wasn't something he dreamt of.

"baby?" he throws on a tshirt and quickly follows after you, "why are you running? did we miss an episode or something?"

"you said we tried everything but you forgot one thing, silly!" your eyes look akin to those of a detective who's pieced a puzzle they've been chasing to solve, fingers rapidly flying over your keyboard. he watches you in amusement and adoration, settling behind you and wrapping his arms around you. his eyes match yours now when he finds you ordering chicken from his new favourite restaurant.

"damn," jungkook lets out, "soy garlic chicken supremacy, okay?" he says aggressively and cutely, you note, his furrowed eyebrows letting you know that he was finishing the box, even if the moon laid to rest and the sun came up to start its daily duties. you're absentmindedly tracing the clock tattoo on his upper arm, midnight chicken and beer getting you quiet and sentimental.

your human pillow notices the comfortable silence from you, starry eyes following gloria delgado's rant about how the men in her family don't talk to her. "can see and feel you staring, koo." you turn your head to his side, lips lifted up at his adoring attention, eyes still focused on the tv. jungkook removes his gloves, downing the last of his beer. he nuzzles your neck, taking your homey and comforting scent. he pulls you impossibly closer, scattering kisses on your neck, tracing up to your cheeks. your eyes finally fall on his, peeking through his long bangs. its at level 3 now, you remind him proudly everyday, tying tiny braids and squishing his cheeks for your weekly change of wallpaper.

"you wanna play with my hair, don't you?" jungkook reads your mind, smiling when you nod sheepishly, already taking out the silk scrunchie which was holding his hair back in a sprout. he sits in between your legs, settling in comfortably. this is one of your favourite activities, carding your fingers through his soft and silky hair, watching the curls bounce when you brush through them.

you have nothing particular bothering you today, watching him grab the remote and shift to youtube, pulling up the karaoke version of dreamers, "lemme put on a show, baby, just for you," he says sincerely, getting up and letting bam sit on your lap now. he waits for the song to start, laughing when he looks at you looking unbelievably small behind bam.

you both never fail to cheer him on, giving him song requests and watching bam run around him, keeping up with his intense choreography. jungkook dramatically falls on you, giggling at your open mouth, mind still stuck on his sudden cover of unholy. "cat got your tongue, sweetheart?" you punch his arm weakly, "you've had too much to drink tonight, honey," you retort back, laughing at your equally weak attempt to get him back. he straddles your lap, letting himself fall on you like a weighted blanket. and he's your favourite type, made of love and cosy comfort.

you look down on him, the beer chugging finally catching up with him, his droopy eyes catching yours. "hi, my love," he giggles, turning his head to find bam nosing him, "and hello, my bamie!" he sits up slightly so he could shower the pup with kisses, booping his brown nose with his finger.

you watch the interaction with endeared eyes, finding your day incomplete without seeing the both of them, happy and content. you weren't planning on crying tonight, it wasn't in today's plot of your unusual night and you certainly didn't expect tears to fall down like waterfalls down your cheeks when you hear jungkook say, "you both are part of the most important people in my life, never forget that, okay?"

you immediately lift your arm to cover your eyes, sniffling and crying like your husband just returned from war. said husband from war is on you in an instant, holding your face tenderly. "i didn't mean to make you cry," he says, leaning his forehead on yours and willing himself to not cry. "happy tears, koo, we're fine," you reassure him, pulling back to place a kiss on his lips. you push his hair back from his forehead, tying his hair in a loose ponytail. his eyes trace your feature with starry fondness, pulling your neck so you're looking at him again.

jungkook sighs, making you tilt your head to the side in curiosity. he kisses you tenderly, leaving another one on your forehead.

"bamie, house, it's late and i just remembered we have to go to the doc's, so sleepy time, okay?" he says firmly yet gently, giving the doberman a forehead kiss. he doesn't go until he gets his customary forehead pat from you, which you lovingly give him promptly.

"he knocked out quickly," jungkook says quietly, getting up and settling on the couch. he pulls you up so you're on his lap now, nosing his way to your neck and sighing in content. "he got that from me," you say, giggling when you get a playful glare and apologizing half-heartedly, squishing his cheeks in retaliation when he starts tickling you.

jungkook holds your waist, making you go still, "god," he breathes, "how is it that when i look at you, i see the whole damn world?"

pt time: @armys-dna ; @junsai-tree ; @soobhyun ; @shatzkrinslinzki ; @jinsquishes ; @cherishoshi ; @fragmentof-indifference ; @indgio ; @jjkeverlast ; @parkdatjimin ; @yoogijk ; @starlight-1010

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook oneshot #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff fanfic #jungkook scenarios #bts jungkook #bts jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts oneshot #bts imagine #lessgo i finally wrote smth #pat on my back for writing this #and finishing one semester how did i do that #okay bye <3 #mwah ily

[rexxdjarin]

A Twisted Fantasy

Commander Wolffe x F!Reader One Shot

Summary: Wolffe is a little (a lot) pent up and he knows only one way to truly unwind until he can get home to you. Word Count: 2k Chapter Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ RATING, dom!Wolffe (is there any other kind lol?), p in v sex, light bdsm themes and spanking, male masturbation reference Notes: I was inspired by our boy finally posting tf up in the trailer🤍 crossposted on ao3

My head is fucking pounding.

Wolffe thought.

Probably atmospheric changes bothering my eye again. 

As their transport hurtled through hyperspace back home to the Triple Zero, he was truly just thankful to be on solid ground and in breathable air. On extended tours like this, Wolffe was always on edge and testy. He missed the comforts of his barracks back home. He missed nights off at 79s with his brothers. Most of all, he missed her.

It had been so long he could barely detect the scent of her on the panties he kept from his last time with her. So many long rotations of burying his nose in them hoping they’d help him get off. Though, it was less and less satisfying the more he messed with them. With his mission completed and his squad probably recharging in the mess, he probably had time to ease his tension the best way he knew how.

Wolffe switched off the nav he was only casually following their course on and stood up. He glanced around the room only finding it filled with the men who should be on duty tonight. With a curt nod, he turned on his boot heel and left the room. 

Tension pricked up his spine as the anticipation built up for his favorite night time activity. Well second-favorite. He reasoned with himself. As he marched down the hall toward his quarters, he scowled the way he always did when he needed to signal to his men to leave him be. The few he did see as he passed by clearly got the message, as they did nothing more than salute formally and go about their business.

Good. He could only wait so long to take the edge off. 

His fists clenched so hard that his knuckles cracked beneath his gloves as the thought of her seeped deeper into his mind. How she blinks up at him like a tempting little vulptex when she wants him. The soft petal colored lips he can kiss whenever he wants to quiet her bold mouth. The wafting floral scent that drenches him in her for rotations afterwards. He fucking needed her.

He shook himself from his daydreaming as he approached his quarters. Urgently he entered his chaincode and stepped inside, sealing it shut behind him. He let his shoulders sag and tipped his head back, sighing dramatically at the relief flooding him already. In a flash, he set his helmet on his equipment crate and shucked the rest of his armor onto the floor beside it, stripping himself down to his black bodyglove. 

His muscles screamed with overuse and the ache behind his eyes became even more noticeable without the excess weight of his helmet on his head. He eased himself down into bed and slumped into his pillow. The rest was soothing, even on the shitty excuse for a mattress they were all given. In a few moments, he was finally comfortable again.

Although, as the post-mission tension he had been feeling subsided, the overwhelming urge of sexual frustration rose to take its place. His body had already decided this was impossible to ignore, his cock hardening between his legs with every second that passed. The dull ache gave way to the familiar loaded throb that he’d come to welcome in his adulthood. It grounded him and gave him something to look forward to when he returned from a mission.

He sighed with satisfaction as he peeled down the waistband of his bottoms and let his now uncomfortably stiff cock fly up. He let out a huff, wrapping his hand around the base and giving it the gentlest tug to get himself started. The mission, the stress, the pain all melted away as he began a slow rhythm he liked. 

His mind wandered and thoughts of her poured in, like they always did. One dirty little thought in particular began forming. He couldn’t remember if he had dreamed this once before or if it really happened, but it excited him either way…

Her body splayed out on his dark gray sheets, the fabric pooling around her waist and hiding just enough of her breasts to keep things entertaining. He always loved how she looked from behind for obvious reasons, but from this vantage point above her he felt powerful. She looked so unsuspecting and helpless, like prey just waiting to be pounced on.

His cock twitched and bounced with excitement from above her, knowing mere moments from now he’d get to fill her up with it. She looked back at him almost in desperation, her eyes begging him more than her words ever could. 

Wolffe chuckled sadistically, slowly easing himself down to press his chest to her back. She keened for him, her back arching to brush skin to skin the way she craved. She turned her face hoping he would give her the mercy of a few fervent kisses, but not tonight. He couldn’t. His cock was throbbing so hard it hurt. 

He leaned closer, pressing featherlight kisses up her shoulder blade to the side of her neck. Grunting and swearing as he let his hips grind against her ass. She felt so good against him, her skin so soft and warm receiving him as he brushed himself against her lewdly. Teasing himself was torturous, but he enjoyed a little of that now and again. Certainly drove her crazy though. 

Each roll of his hips brushed hers deeper into the mattress beneath her and massaged her clit perfectly. The sound of her gasping and whimpering for more only made him want to go faster. Her hands reached back to grip into his curls and the tugging at his scalp made heat course down Wolffe’s spine like nothing else. 

Fuck. He swore, countering with a love bite in the crook of her neck that everyone would see in the morning. She moaned and pulled tighter making his skin erupt in goosebumps at both the sensation and the sound of her pleasure. She trembled beneath his weight, probably already close to cumming from the friction alone. She was like that when he was gone for a long time, anything he did made her insatiable and it made the sex unreal.

He suckled deep hickies into the thin skin around her jaw and teased her mercilessly as she moaned pitifully for him. He didn’t care. He was impatient and in control and he needed her wet, so she could take all of him easily. He rutted his hips between her cheeks over and over again, holding his hands around her ribcage to hold her steady beneath him.

Wolffe kissed up to her ear, his hands slotting into the dip of her waist to hold her as he slowed his grinding. “Are you ready to take me, darling?” he muttered softly, grazing the shell of her ear with his teeth. “I won’t be gentle, but I can’t wait anymore.”

She mewled pathetically, “I’m ready. I need you. Please, Wolffe.” The sound of his name in her little desperate moan made him snap. With a kiss to her shoulder, he lifted himself back over her and spread her thighs apart. Sticky warmth coated her inner thighs and he groaned as he slid his length through it with ease.

His eyes fluttered as he prodded at her entrance, the head slipping through and splitting her open as he followed through. Wolffe hissed, her heat searing pleasure through him instantly. He snapped a few shallow thrusts to part her walls around him and she cried out moans that would keep Wolffe stimulated for years. 

As her walls enveloped him, he started his grueling rhythm, his hips plowing into her as deep and as hard as he could. He growled in satisfaction, the burning heat swelling in his lower belly sending him into a frenzy. “You take me so fucking good.” He capped his compliment with a swift smack to her ass. 

She swallowed her cries, curling her fingers into his sheets and nodding vigorously. “Always, Sir. Always.” She raised her hips, giving him a better angle, which he took immediate advantage of. He wrapped both his large hands around the small of her waist for better leverage and shoved himself deeper inside her. 

“Awwh, that’s a good girl.” He gritted his teeth, her grip on him tightening markedly at his claim. “So fucking tight I can barely move. You missed me, haven’t you? Need me to come home and open you up just like this.” He laughed, letting his strokes shorten as he rocked into her a little harder. 

“Mhm. It’s not the…same…without you, Sir.” she muttered, turning to scream into the mattress as he sped up. Wolffe shifted to curl his hands into the nape of her neck and turned her head away from the muffling covers of his barracks bed. 

“Ah ah, let them all hear you say that, darling.” He curled his hand into her hair and twisted it around his wrist, pulling just enough to feel good. “Give me a little something to be proud of.” he huffed, the exertion admittedly starting to get to him too. His skin was boiling hot, a sheen of sweat coating his entire body as he slipped against hers. Her ass bounced against him, slapping against his thighs as he pounded her into the mattress beneath them.

“Fuck me, Wolffe.” she begged, her hands frantically searching for grip as he hit a spot inside her that made her scramble. “Right there, again. Harder…I can take it, Commander.” she baited him, rolling her hips back into him.

Wolffe dropped down to rest on his forearms and let himself press his body into hers. She writhed beneath him as his cock speared into her at a lower angle. Her walls fluttered around him and Wolffe knew from experience she wouldn’t last much longer. He groaned lowly as his own orgasm began creeping up on him too.

He bit down on her shoulder and let his hips drive as fast and deep as he could manage. “Know just how you like it, filthy girl. Fast and rough. Let me do whatever I want to you…” he grunted between exerted exhales as he kept up his pace. Her moans got breathier and she nodded in agreement. “Let me ruin this little cunt for anyone else but me.”

She cried out a pitiful “Yes.” Wolffe felt her muscles beginning to tense and her walls collapsing around him. His throbbing cock was suffocating inside her and he shuddered as pleasure began its slow trickle down the length of his own body. He could no longer control the snapping of his hips, the air in his lungs or the strength of his bruising grip on her perfect body. 

His ears filled with the delightful repetitive “Yes, yes….yes, Wolffe…fuck, yes.” Her soft curves and sweat-slick skin pressed against his, her walls trapping his cock in her warmth, her face frozen in permanent ecstasy as the high crashed into her. He pressed his forehead into her shoulder and pulled her hips into his as he locked in, shuddering from head to toe as the crest of his own orgasm dragged him under.

His groans died in his throat as he emptied each spurt of pleasure inside her. He lost count of how many times he shot molten hot ribbons into her heat. He panted, the overwhelming pleasure leaving him so delightfully and completely spent. He collapsed on top of her, rolling them both over to cuddle her close while he regained his ability to breathe.

Wolffe let his large palm rest on the soft plush of her lower belly, just over where he’d filled her completely full of him. She was already asleep, far too tired to stay conscious after something as intense as they usually were together. He’d hold her close and keep her safe, even if she wasn’t awake to experience it, for as long as she needed him…

He blinked away the haze of orgasm and came to with a mess on his hands. With the headache and all the tension completely gone, the pull of sleep was inevitable, finally. He cleaned himself off and laid back into bed, knowing that by the time he woke up in 0600 hours he could make that fantasy a reality all over again.

--

notes: hi I love him your honor I will probably add taglist and upload to ao3 later but I just wanted to get this posted bc im excited about it.

#commander wolffe #commander wolffe smut #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #commander wolffe nsft #the clones #the clones smut #the bad batch

[thefoxtherapist]

Kaeya's kisses could best be described as an avalanche, sudden and present. His lips are often cold, but warm quickly as the kiss progresses. He likes to pull you in by your waist, hands on your hips or even cupping your face. He often faintly tastes of wine he enjoys at the tavern. And just as sudden as they come, he can pull away, blowing a kiss as he walks off to attend whatever duties he may have.

He's calculated, you'll give him that much. Alhaitham's kisses tend to be more suited to your tastes than anything else. They often came early in the morning before he left, or late at night upon his return home. Not that he'd meant to ignore you during the day, simply busy with other obligations. Nonetheless, he makes the time if it's requested of him.

Diluc was always a strange man. Not a fan of PDA, his kisses remain nearly solely behind closed doors. Going so far as to pull you somewhere unseen just to obtain a kiss of his preference. But there, they are heated and needy. Touch starved, one could say. He's passionate and touchy, he wants to touch and be touched. Lover boy.

A tsunami that comes crashing down without warning. A whirlwind. These are words or metaphors that could best be used to describe the way Tartaglia kisses you. Tongue and teeth, fingers digging into your skin. He's certainly eager. The Harbinger doesn't care who is watching or where you are. He wants to show you how he feels, and he will with the way his grip on your tightens and his lips leave you breathless.

He's sweet at least. Heizou wants to know how you want to be kissed before proceeding. And he has a habit of always asking before kissing you, it's only right, he says. But sometimes the detective will let his eagerness get ahead of him, kisses becoming more fervent and passionate. At least kissing him will get him to slow down, albeit for a short time.

#Kaeya x reader #Diluc x reader #Tartaglia x reader #Alhaitham x reader #Heizou x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #༻Tenebris #gn reader

[drabblesandimagines]

Dove (part four)

Leon Kennedy x female reader Part one. Part two. Part three.

The time for Leon’s next perimeter check comes and goes, yet he remains in place on the sofa, you cuddling into his chest. He knows he could try and shuffle along a little bit, get you to lie down, but he doesn’t.

You must be exhausted, both physically and mentally, to have fallen asleep on him after all. He doesn’t want to risk waking you up when it’s the first time he’s seen you properly relaxed in the last 24 hours. It’d be more awkward if he did try to move and woke you up, too. Plus, if he did successfully pull it off, it’s not the widest of sofas either - what if you rolled off when he was outside and damaged your shoulder even more? You’re already bruised and battered from your encounter with the Lickers and he’ll be damned if he’s gonna let you get hurt again under his watch.

It’s everything to do with that and nothing to do with the fact that he can’t remember when he last held a woman like this, content in his embrace. He’s not a big one-night stand guy – won’t deny he’s had them, but they’re not a preference - so intimate moments like this are few and far between. Besides, you’d asked him for a hug, you’d fell asleep in his arms. It might not be proper, but he’s not overstepped professional boundaries by reassuring a victim in their moment of need.

Just like he totally hadn’t overstepped when he helped you undress last night.

God, when you’d asked for his help with your bra… Memories of awkward fumbles with girlfriends under covers had flashed through his mind, still isn’t sure how he pulled it off one-handed.  

Leon swallows as you unconsciously nuzzle your cheek up against his chest, bringing him back to the present moment. He chides himself for the distraction, shouldn’t be thinking about that when he should be thinking about the job at hand. There’s been no reply from Hunnigan, though he wasn’t expecting one unless there was any sort of development. She’s probably waiting for his full report before she’ll give him a crumb of anything in return.

He looks at the laptop sat open on the coffee table, though it’s long gone to sleep. He was maybe a little ambitious with his timeframe of having it in her inbox by 2000, as now he’s going to have to type it up, listening to the audio, all in the same room as you as he does.

Problem for later, he decides, as is you being asleep on his chest preventing him from doing his perimeter check. His hand remains on the small of your back - keeps you steady against him, whilst he compromises for scrolling round the camera feeds a few times one-handed.

There’s nothing to note visually from his last outing - though he definitely wants to be able to double-check with his own eyes rather than put his full trust in pixels on a 3.5-inch screen. There’s been no motion detected either, so it’ll do.

It’s turning into a nice evening, he muses, warm enough to be out without a jacket. It’s a shame he can’t take you outside for some fresh air, stretch your legs with a walk around the perimeter – after he’d checked it first, of course – and maybe make you feel less like a prisoner. Knows from experience that it won’t be long until the frustration of being restricted to three rooms is going to surface. Always does. You’ve already shown some over the medication being locked up last night.

He also knows how much the restrictions and protocols seem overkill, but if anything were to go wrong on this mission, all his actions are going to be scrutinized under a microscope, discussed at length by a panel who will either sign him off for active duty or accuse him of being a traitor to the good old US of A.

You jerk almost violently on his chest then, nearly clocking him in the chin, your good hand scrunched up in the fabric of his shirt – all tell-tale signs of a bad dream. Leon begins to rub slow circles with his hand on the small of your back, hoping it’ll be soothing enough to stop the dream progressing, perhaps enough to draw you out of that REM state but not enough to wake you up entirely.

He slips his phone back in his pocket as he continues to rub large circles on your back, can’t help but smile as he watches you settle, your face relaxing once more.

Leon closes his eyes, then, relishing the weight of you on his chest. It’s not selfish, he reasons, no, because although those sleeping pills work wonders, they can never replace a true night’s sleep – again, he knows that from bitter experience. It’s enough to shut your brain down for a solid eight hours, but it’s never going to be a restful sleep when it’s synthetic.

Not in the way you’re napping right now, safe in his arms.

God, Kennedy, pull it together – you just met the girl.

Still, doesn’t open his eyes though.

He’s about to drift off himself when you whimper and he swears it breaks his heart. Your grip tightens on his shirt, face twitching once more, now alongside furrowed brows and hitched breaths as you face invisible demons. He strokes your hair with one hand, still rubbing circles on your back with his other but it doesn’t have the same effect this time as your restlessness continues.

“No…” You whimper again, nails digging in his chest from your grip and he admits defeat. He sits up slowly, stills his hand on your back and moves his other to rest lightly on your arm to give the most gentle shake.

“Dove, it’s okay.” Leon says, softly. “You’re all right. It was just a dream.” He moves his head down, in dangerous territory of being headbutted, speaks a little louder in the hopes the movement and his voice will break through your slumber. “I’m here, Dove. You’re safe with me, okay?” Your eyes shoot open and you lift your head off his chest but his reflexes don’t fail him as he moves his head back from the collision. You emit a sharp gasp from your mouth, catching your breath and look at him briefly in alarm, feeling entirely disorientated and confused, heart pounding.

“Hey.” He smiles.

It takes a beat for you to properly gather your bearings – never been a fan of napping during the day, always made you feel worse more than anything. You’re in the safe house, in the living room, with Leon – the kind DSO agent who made you oatmeal and sandwiches for lunch – whose warm palm still is pressed solidly against the small of your back…

“You fell asleep. I… It seemed like you were having a bad dream, so…”

You remembered asking him for a hug, how nice it had felt in his embrace, how you thought it would be fine to close your eyes for just a moment. Afterall, they were so dry and tired from all that silly crying and how nice and warm Leon felt, with your cheek pressed up against his chest.

Yes, you were just going to savour all that for a couple more minutes and then you’d sit up.

But it hadn’t happened that way, waking up whoever knows how long later, holding onto him for dear life.

“I fell asleep… on you.”

It’s a statement, not a question.

His smile turns somewhat bashful. “Yeah.”

You realise then that your hand is flat on his chest, right over his heart – you can feel it pound underneath your fingertips and you snatch it back into your own chest, sitting up poker straight, looking embarrassed.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Dove. I can add emergency pillow next to the first aid qualification.” He teases, relieved it seems to make you relax a little by the way your shoulders drop. You smile, placing your good hand back on the sofa for balance to shuffle back along. A little reluctantly, Leon brings his hand back to rest on his thigh.

“Do you, er, want to talk about it?”

“Not much to tell.” You shuffle in place again, trying to get comfortable as your injuries begin to ache. “I was being chased… But that’s all I can remember.” You shake your head as if you could shake the uneasy feeling out of it. “How long was I asleep?”

“Not long.” Leon shrugs, though he knows exactly how long it was. Doesn’t want to say he let you sleep on him for over 90 minutes because he liked the human contact.

You look up at the TV, not knowing what to say, and see it’s still on at a low volume – the channel unchanged and the house renovation show ongoing. Must be some sort of afternoon marathon.  

“So, I need to do my, er, perimeter check. I won’t be long, but can I get you anything before I go?”

“Can I have the next dose of painkillers?”

Leon checks his watch and frowns - you’re over an hour away from the next dose. Maybe he shouldn’t have let you sleep in that position after all, torso twisted to lie across his chest – the fall down the stairs had to have a done a number of your ribs. “I’m afraid not for another hour or so, Dove. Is the pain really bad?”

“No, I’m just starting to ache a bit. I’ll be all right.”

“We can arrange a call with a medic if the painkillers aren’t bearing up, see if we can get you on something stronger.” He offers, getting to his feet.

Your stomach flips. There it is, that horrible niggle of doubt in the depths. Leon seems sincere enough in his offer – hell, this is the man who prepped your toothbrush for you this morning, made breakfast and lunch, let you sob and then nap all over him. That’s surely not how a government agent who suspects you’re a bioterrorist is going to treat you, yet you can’t bring yourself to fully relax around him, painfully aware that he might be feeding back everything you say or even do to superiors.  

Is this a trick or a test, to see if you’ll take up stronger pain medication after you insisted yesterday that what you were given had been adequate? Oh, you lied about that, did you? Did you lie about your whole statement too, Dove?

“No, that’s not necessary.” You’ve taken too long to reply, so time to try and deflect. “I’m just being a baby.”

“No, you’re not.” He replies, firmly. “Have a think about it, okay? You’ll have been running off adrenaline for a while, might have numbed the real extent of the pain when you were being assessed. Been there a few times myself.”

You nod, unsure of what else to say, still feeling a little awkward in the way you’d woken up.

“Okay, I’m heading outside. See you soon.”

You lean forward and grab the remote control. “Take care.” It comes out before you even think about what you’re saying and you turn up the volume on the TV, as if it could drown out what you’d already said.

Leon smiles as he picks up his duffel bag, slings it over his shoulder – he’s locking it in the garage on his way out. If you’ve noticed he keeps it in his line of sight at all times -besides the time it was behind him but you had been very snug in his arms - you’ve been polite enough not to mention it, or maybe you just don’t want to hear the answer. He wishes he could make the call, but until those above him officially deem you as a victim who needs protection and not a suspect under surveillance instead of the hybrid moniker you’re under, he needs to keep you and the weapons separate.

Like you could do any damage to him with your arm in a sling, bruised, grazed and sore, all whilst on sleeping pills and painkillers for God’s sake. If you were faking all of that, call the Academy cos there’s a new Best Actress in town.

---

Part five.

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x female reader