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mrs-gucci · 3 years

Text

Mr. Handsy {Clyde Logan x wife!Reader}

@icarusinthesea :

Okay, okay. I think I've thought of something. Eh, it's a mediocre idea, but it does it for me. Fighting with Clyde followed by sweet, hot, nasty make up sex. I can not think of anything else. But whatever you write I'll love. 🥰

author’s notes: hello, hello! writers block has been hitting HARDCORE as of late, which is kind of a bummer, but luckily I’m feeling a bit better now! @icarusinthesea thank you for this request!! I hope it was worth the (very long) wait, and I send love to you, friend <3 <3

warnings: fluff. smut. club brawls. violence against an asshole. protectiveness. dom!Clyde. oral sex (m receiving). rough sex. unprotected sex/creampie.

(possible) tw’s: non-con touching (not by Clyde). physical conflict. sex in a public restroom.

word count: 1.9k

my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman @dirtytissuebox @thepalaceofmelanie @einmal-im-traum @charliesahottie @gotham-city-uber-driver @gildedstarlight @slytheriin2002 clyde’s taglist peeps! @goddessofsprings @icarusinthesea @lumdelacour @readingreaver @eagerforhoney @trubluepensfan @beachwoodmonet if you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, the sign up is linked here and can also be found in my description :)

You had a bad feeling about this place from the very beginning, from the moment you stepped into this stupid sleazy club for your co-worker’s birthday.

Clyde decided to tag along, mainly to hang out with the other poor guys whose wives dragged them along tonight.

The bass pulses your eardrums as you make your way over to the booth that they’d claimed, saying some very loud ‘hi’s’ and ‘hello’s’ to everyone before taking a seat on Clyde’s lap.

Your outfit certainly matches the locale of tonight’s party, sexy and risqué while maintaining at least some coverage and dignity for your larger areas. Clyde’s been having some trouble keeping his eyes, and now that he can, his hands, off you.

His calloused flesh hand runs over your thigh and hip in a soothing manner, mindless in its movements over your exposed skin.

Soon, a good dancing song comes on and no matter how much you try to beg Clyde to join you on the crowded floor, he refuses, insisting that you go have some fun with your friends.

His eyes keep a close watch on you, knowing that unfortunately, it’s highly likely that some bonehead Joe will come along and think he can touch without permission.

He finds himself in a sort of entranced state, watching the way your hips move when you dance, watches your skin bounce and jiggle with each motion, sees the way the multicolored lights bounce off the sequins on your dress…

Sure enough, said bonehead Joe dances his way over to you, not-so-subtly checking you out from a bit of a distance before making his approach.

Clyde almost instantly leaps into action when his hand touches your hip and he slides in behind you. Thinking that the man behind you is Clyde, you start grinding against him a bit more, smirking.

But, only after a second or two, his motions and touch begin to feel awfully foreign. You’ve just truly begun to doubt your dancing partner’s identity when he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Keep dancing like this and I’ll just have to take you home, babygirl.”

Goosebumps form on your skin in disgust the moment you hear an unfamiliar voice, yanking away from his grubby grip.

“How dar—“

“Hey, you!”

Your eyes widen and you look around the man to see a very angry-looking Clyde storming his way over to where you’re standing.

He turns the handsy man around with a hand on his shoulder, then gives him a shove. “Can’t ya see she’s married, asshole? Don’t you ever think ya can just go ‘round here, touchin’ what ain’t yours.”

“Cly—“

“Don’t ya even start with me right now, Y/N. I can’t believe ya didn’t stop ‘im, can’t believe ye kept grindin’ against ‘im.”

Your eyes widen. “Clyde, p-please, it’s not like tha—“

“I thought I told ya t’ can it, Y/N.”

You shudder at his commanding and harsh tone, immediately backing down and biting your lip as the tears swell in your eyes.

The man wears a small smirk, giving Clyde an equally rough shove backwards. “And what, you’re telling me she’s yours? Bullshit she is. Who’d ever wanna marry a one-armed redneck like you?”

Big mistake. Clyde used to just stand down and shut off whenever someone made fun of his disability, but usually now, he just gets fucking pissed.

Sure enough, his jaw clenches and he quickly lunges at Mr. Handsy, forcefully knocking him to the scuffed dance floor. Often times, mostly due to his kind and gentle demeanor, you forget that Clyde’s a veteran. A special ops veteran, at that.

You can’t deny that bearing witness to his unbridled anger and dominance isn’t at least a little bit sexy, even if you do feel incredibly guilty about not realizing sooner that it wasn’t Clyde.

Like the coward he truly is, and that many men like him are, he flees the scene quickly when he looks up and sees the anger in Clyde’s eyes.

Meanwhile, you instantly rush up to him, apologizing repeatedly. “Clyde, I’m so sorry, I thought it was you and I didn’t mean to—“

He snatches your wrist, bending down so that his hot, slightly strained breath wafts across your face. “You’d better yer slutty ass into the restroom right fuckin’ now.” He growls, letting you go.

You nod, whimpering under your breath as you scurry off into the bathroom.

He follows after you, pushing you into the single stall before reaching around to lock the door.

“Clyde, please, I’m so sorry. I promise that I didn’t know it wasn’t you until he spoke and I pulled away right after that. I would never…”

He holds a hand up and you trail off, then crosses it back over his chest along with the other. When you look up at him, ready to apologize further, he gives you a subtle head shake and a faint smile.

“Get m’ cock out.”

You know, then, that he’s not mad, and you know exactly what he wants from you. You step up to him with a small smirk and pop the button on his Levi’s, pulling the zipper down before reaching in to fish out his half-hard length.

“Now stroke it. You know how I like it.”

Your hand holds a steady grip around the protrusion, starting off slow but quickening randomly, just as he likes it.

His head tilts back onto the cheap tiled wall, nostrils flaring as he exhales shakily. “Thaaaaat’s m’ girl, just like that.”

You speed up just a bit, focusing your pressure and ministrations on the upper half of his shaft, moving the little bit of excess skin up and down his shiny pink head.

“Mmmmffhhh.” He groans through pursed lips, hips rutting forward into your touch.

Suddenly, he pushes your hand away, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to cope with the sudden loss of stimulation on his pulsing arousal.

“Knees.”

You get onto your knees, using his shoes as cushioning.

“Mouth open.”

Your jaw falls open and he wastes no time in moving himself into proper position, sheathing himself fully in your mouth.

“Ghhhohhh, s-shit.”

You’re choking right off the bat, shoulders shaking with each violent cough.

“Yeah, take it. Gon’ make ye choke on me, shove m’ cock down yer lil throat ‘till ya can’t breathe no more.”

You somehow manage to moan around him in between your gags and coughs, lungs panicked for the rough cutoff of airflow by Clyde’s length. Tears begin to swell in your eyes, soon running down your cheeks.

His eyebrows are tightly knitted in the center of his forehead, skin glistening with the beginnings of sweat as his hips rut into your cavern even quicker and rougher now.

Clyde has to physically pull himself away from your mouth, shuddering as his cock bobs and throbs angrily at the loss of friction. His hand splays out on the wall, chest heaving as he takes a moment to re-gain composure.

Then, he looks down at you, gaze sizzling your very skin.

“Up. Turn yerself ‘round n’ bend over, ass out n’ legs spread nicely.”

You put yourself into the position, wiggling your ass just a bit for play after pushing your jean shorts down, earning you a harsh smack across your newly-exposed skin. He smirks when you squeal softly, giving himself a few lazy strokes as he steps up behind you, lips instantly attacking your neck.

“Yer gon’ walk outta ‘ere with all o’ my marks on your neck, hickeys n’ bite marks. Maybe then everyone’ll understand who it is ya belong t’."

His chin digs into your shoulder, then he’s thrusting forward, filling you up and stretching you out to the max. You gasp, eyelids fluttering as your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

“Ohhhhh.”

He groans into your ear, chin digging into your shoulder as he begins fucking you fast and hard. There’s nothing gentle or romantic about this union; it’s hunger and wanting, it’s pure carnal lust.

Tears quickly swell up in your eyes at the sweet pleasure currently surging through your body, tickling every nerve ending and igniting every pleasure center.

It’s humid in the club, the bathroom no exception and already, a sheen of sweat has formed on the surface of your skin. Clyde’s good hand takes an even firmer hold on the meat of your hips, hips thrusting at an impossibly fast pace.

“G’damnit, wrapped ‘round m-me so tight, fffuck Y/N. Such a lil’ cccunt, love shovin’ m’ b-big cock in ya, ssssplittin’ ya right in half--christ.”

You love how his accent gets thicker and thicker at times like this, so much so that sometimes you can’t even make sense of what he’s saying. It’s adorable.

“Mmm, C-Clyde! Please baby, please mmmake me cum!”

His lips latch onto the side of your neck, sucking as hard as they possibly can while he reaches around to rub your clit with the cool metal digits of his prosthetic.

Your hips instantly grind down on him, a shaky gasp leaving your lips. “Ohh god, mmmmmfffuck--right there! Yes, yes, Clyde!”

“Say y-yer mine.” He growls into your ear, panting. “Tell everyone who ya bbbelong to. Scream ma name w-when ya cum.”

“Y-Yours, all yours, Clyde. I’m yours!” You whimper.

Clyde fucks you with everything he’s got, biting into your skin and sucking more of the flesh until you’re littered with marks. It’s not long before you’re tumbling over the edge, body trembling as you release all over his shaft with a shout of his name.

“Clyde! C-Clyde, fuck!”

Not long after you, Clyde falls over the edge, desperately rutting and fucking each drop of his hot load deep into your spasming cunt.

“Y/N, g’damnit...fuuuckin’ s-shit!”

Both of you are rendered breathless as you come down from your respective highs. His lips and tongue gently soothe the harsh bites and bruises that have been left behind in his wake.

He sighs softly when he pulls out, helping you pull your shorts back up before tucking himself back into his pants. When you turn around, he crashes his lips into yours, hands resting gently on your hips.

“‘m real sorry fer that, Y/N; dunno what got int’ me. I didn’t hurt ya, did I?”

You smile, cradling his face in your hands. “Clyde, there is no need to apologize or feel bad for that. You know if I was uncomfortable, I would’ve stopped you or said something. I loved it, more than I probably should have, and I love you.”

His lips tug up into a soft, lopsided smile, relief flooding across his expression.

“I love ya too, Y/N, so, so much. Thank ya fer puttin’ up with me n’ bein’ mine.”

“No ‘thank you’ necessary, baby. I’m yours, always yours.”

Clyde grins, pulling you in for a hug as he repeats your words out loud.

“All mine.”

162 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years

Note

What are some of your favorite long johnlock fics (like 100k+ words) ?

Anonymous said to inevitably-johnlocked: Do you have any recommendations for a hella long (80k-250k+) and hella angsty with hella good writing? Like any personal favourites, if you’re into heavy stuff ig. (Bonus points if topics include either one being suicidal, infidelity/cheating, and/or if there’s a redemption arc)\

Anonymous said to inevitably-johnlocked: What’s the longest slow burn fic you’ve ever read? Ive only been reading fan fic for 4 months, and i read one that had 150k words but i was wondering if there are longer slow burns?

@deerstalker143 said to inevitably-johnlocked: Hi, I really like your fic recs, and was wondering if you could provide a fic rec of long and sweet book-length Johnlock fics :D Thank you!

Hi Lovelies!!

OH GOD, you guys asked me these AGES ago, and I started a list and it just kept growing and growing and GROWING, especially since I’m reading a lot more really long epics these days, so it makes me happy to have a decent sized list for y’all now! I think now would be a good time to post them… and I know that people have been asking for them. So I’m putting these together since they’re long-fic related LOL Slow Burn List here if you’re interested in more!

NOVEL-LENGTH FICS: 100K+ FICS

See also: Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018) (I do have a whole bunch more since then, so just ask if you want a Pt. 2)

Definitions by siennna (T, 101,528 w+ WiP || Fluff and Humour, Love Confessions, Romance, Snuggling) – Sherlock’s journey in defining his flat mate and stumbling through the muddled world of emotion. {{This feels complete; the chapter count is listed as ? but I feel like it is done}}

The Heart In The Whole by verityburns (E, 101,650 || Post-TGG Canon Divergence, Drama & Angst, H/C, First Time) – Events after ‘The Great Game’ leave Sherlock dependent on his best friend and colleague. But John has a secret of his own…

The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w. || Alternate Future AU || , Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Hand Jobs / Oral Sex) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It’s 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn’t need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

Maintenance and Repair by patternofdefiance (E, 106,650 w. || FutureAU, Augmentation || Augmented John, Depression, Body Modification, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Sci-Fi, Self-Care, Body Dysmorphia) – John wants to explain the rush of sensation and data, which is just another form of sensation (or is it the other way around?). John wants to say:Augmentation circuits report temperature, pressure, various forms of quantitative input. Sudden changes are reported as pain, since sudden changes are dangerous, and pain is the quickest way to encourage reflexive extraction. But all John can manage is, “Nng.” Because this sudden touch is not reporting as pain. Part 2 of STATIC

A Study in Winning by Jupiter_Ash (E, 106,658 w. || Tennis AU || John POV, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Sherlock Speaks French, Switchlock, Wimbledon) – John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything? Part 1 of Tennis

Eyes Up, Heels Down by CodenameMeretricious (E, 107,845 w. || Sports Equestrian AU || Fluff, Angst, Humour, Rider!Sherlock, Groomer!John, Show Jumping, Slow Burn, Happy Ending) – Sherlock is a top eventing rider currently training at Baker Farms. John is the new groom who’s been told to steer clear of the surly rider and his horses. Part 1 of Baker Farms

between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (T, 107,998 w. || Epistolary, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending) – On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years. Part 1 of between each beat

Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (E, 109,683 w. || Genie/Djinn AU || Magical Realism, H/C, Kidnapping, Genie Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Case Fic, H/C, Angst, Clubs, John Whump) – Fairy tales are for those who remember how to dream; not John Watson, broken and hiding from his bleak future in a beige bedsit. But then he discovers a lamp and finds himself in the dangerous riptide of an enigmatic man whose very existence is unbelievable, murder charges against his sister, and the growing pains of feeling alive once more.

THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON by skyefullofstars (T, 110,758 w. || H/C, Kidnapping, Angst, Violence, Whump, Nightmares, Murder, Drug Addiction, Torture) – While Sherlock grapples with his new-found feelings for John Watson, he faces a very real threat: John’s kidnapping and shooting at the hands of James Moriarty. And the knowledge that the love of his life is being used to test an addictive drug - at the risk of John’s sanity and life. Prequel to THE BOYS OF BAKER STREET. Part 1 of THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON

Breakable by MissDavis (E, 117,627 w. || Established, Fluff/Angst, Depression, Paralysis, Happy-ish Ending) –After John is seriously injured, Sherlock struggles to figure out how to help him, keep himself sane, and maybe, just maybe, get their life back to the way it’s supposed to be. Part 1 of Breakable Not Broken {{I love Sherlock’s characterization in this… it’s so heartwrenching but very realistic}}.

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w. || Canon Divergence, Post-TRF, John’s Sexuality, S3 Rewrite, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, John’s Gay) – When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

The Swan Triad by Pennin_Ink (T, 121,660 w. across 3 works || Swan Lake AU || Magical / Fairy Tale AU, Romance, Falling in Love, Pining, Psychological Torture, Transformation) – Sherlock and John grow up spending every summer together. Their mothers’ attempts to play matchmaker only fuel their mutual resentment and scorn. But then, one summer.

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship’s surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there’s more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin’ the eye, he has to choose… is it a pirate’s life for him?

To Light Another’s Path by BeautifulFiction (E, 128,654 w. || Post-TGG, Sick Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Drug Addiction / Recreational Drug Use, First Time / Kiss, Case Fic) – Teaching John to observe seems to be a losing battle, but when Sherlock falls ill and submits himself to John’s care, will he realise that there is more to life than the science of deduction? Meanwhile, there is a murder to solve, and John must try and convince Sherlock not to sacrifice his own health for the sake of the case.

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (T, 129,003 w. || Horse / Vet AU || Magical Realism, Horses, Vet John, Horse Sherlock, Implied Alcoholism) – Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatise to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

Ten Days by Engazed (E, 137,208 w. || Rape/Non-Con, Post-TRF, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Case Fic) – Sherlock Holmes has been dead for forty months, and John is at last beginning to live his life again. But just when he believes he might be happy, his world crashes back down around him. John is named a missing person. Someone is pointing DI Lestrade in the wrong direction. And as the days pass, his situation only grows more dire. It seems like the disappearance of his best friend is the only thing that can bring Sherlock Holmes back from the dead. Part 1 of The Fallen

Colors by Quesarasara (E, 140,537 w. || Pleasantville-Inspired AU || Soulmates, Colour Bonds, Alternating POV, Angst, Fluff, Pining, Case Fic, Medical Procedures) – Everyone on earth is born with eyes that see in black, white, and an endless series of greys. When you meet your soulmate, you finally see the world in color. We’re all searching for the person who brings color to our lives. John and Sherlock are no exception. Part 1 of The Colors ‘Verse

How to Build a Heart out of Ashes by Teumessian (E, 144,931 w. || Changling AU || Slow Burn, Drug Use, Mentions of Child Abuse / Bullying, Mentions of Student/Teacher Relations, Uni-Age) – In an AU where a small number of the population become Changelings at a young age, at 17 John Watson believes he’s destined for Normal life but then the Change takes him and he is sent to the Baker Institute. There he meets Sherlock Holmes.

Midnight Blue Serenity by BeautifulFiction (E, 151,907 w. || Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar / For a Case, Drugs, Pining, Case Fic, UST) – When Sherlock infiltrates a club in order to track down a serial killer, his altered appearance is enough to make John question his assumption that Sherlock is beyond his reach. However, is he the only one who appreciates his flatmate’s charms, or is Sherlock at risk of becoming the next victim?

A Fold in the Universe by darkest_bird (E, 152,857 w. || O-John, A-Sherlock || Body Swap, Crossing Universes, DubCon, H/C, Angst, Happy Ending) – Alpha Sherlock and Omega John are in a relationship. Prime Sherlock and Prime John are not. So what happens when a freak fold in the universe switches one John for the other?

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

The Quiet Man by ivyblossom (E, 157,369 w. || Post-TRF, John First POV, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Present Tense, Imaginary Sherlock) – “Do you just carry on talking when I’m away?”

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That’s all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

Mise en Place by azriona (M, 161,004 w. || Restaurant (Kitchen Nightmares) AU || Sherlock is Gordon Ramsay / Celebrity Sherlock, Restauranteur John, Harry Plays Prominent Role, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, Cranky Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn) – John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn’t have much choice. There’s only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Mise en Place

Sketchy by serpentynka (E, 184,053 w. || Post-TRF, Post-Mary, John Whump, Slow Burn Love Story, Case Fic, Art, Porn With Feelings, Switchlock, Travelling, Career Change, Family Secrets, Illness / Health) – What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work? A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl – but cannot be ignored. Oh, and…porn. Part 1: Sherlock takes on an obvious case (barely a 4) and meets someone who will force him to re-examine what it means to see. Part 1 of Sketchy

Unkissed Series by 221b_hound (T to E, 184,168 w. across 46 works || Established Relationship, Ace Sherlock) – Sherlock returned from the dead a year ago. John returned to Baker Street six months ago. They’ve been in a couple since then. or at least, not NOT a couple. For two smart men, they sure can be dumb. Luckily, an art thief tries to drown Sherlock, Sherlock has a fever dream and things are about to change.

Fallen Series by Belladonna_Q, mamishka (T, 222,094 w. across 3 works || Winglock || Angel!John, Angels & Demons, Faes, Christianity, Changelings) – In a world where myth, mystery, and the supernatural flourish beneath the veneer of modern civilization, Sherlock is a master of magic as well as science and deduction. But there are some things that he cannot see, riddles he cannot unravel, even when they walk right beside him in the form of one John Watson…

The Gilded Cage by BeautifulFiction (E, 326,887 w. || Omegaverse || Omega Sherlock / Alpha John, Friends to Lovers, Dub Con, Reproductive Rights) – In a world where Omegas are the property of the elite Alphas, locked away and treasured by those wealthy enough to buy them, John never questioned his flatmate’s secondary gender. Sherlock Holmes was an Alpha through-and through. Wasn’t he? A chance discovery turns the world on its head, and John is left grappling to come to terms with Sherlock’s past as events conspire to threaten their future.

MARKED FOR LATER

Cake and Other Sins by Indybaggins (E, 100,670 w. || Great British Bakeoff AU || Alternate First Meeting, Angst, Baking, Desire, Disability, Incest (Holmescest/Holmescest with John), Masturbation, Falling in Love, Oral, Outdoor Sex, Past Drug Use, Poisoning, Voyeurism) – Sherlock and John meet as competing bakers on The Great British Bake Off. There’s intense baking, lush recipes and enticing food. Mycroft, guilt, past sins in chocolate and gingerbread. And love. That too.

Minutiae (Or 156 Things I Know About You) by AtlinMerrick (E, 101,342 w. + || WiP, Marriage, Anal/Oral Sex, Domestic, Stand Alone Chapters, Humour, Prompts, Lovers, Short Stories) – Here, in no particular order, are some of the things John has learned about Sherlock, and some of the things Sherlock has learned about John. In the end there will be 156 mundane and unusual facts for each of them. (Um…I never stopped at 156.) (All chapters stand alone.)

A Ritual to Read to Each Other by weeesi (E, 101,463 w. || Post S3 / Post HLV, Pining, Alternating POV, Masturbation, John’s Nightmares, Mary is Not Nice, Love Confessions, Flashbacks, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, BJ’s / HJ’s, Shower Sex, Anal, John Deals With Feelings, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Injury, On Holidays, Implied Mystrade) – After Mycroft terminated his exile but before Sherlock could escape from the infuriating plane, John and Mary were whisked away by car to an unknown location.Sherlock hasn’t seen them for an entire year. He doesn’t know when he’ll see John again – until one day, he does.But, of course, nothing is simple.

Dog Days by All_I_need (E, 101,627 w. || Post-Baskerville AU, Experiments Gone Wrong, Fluff and Humour) – John has an accident in the laboratory of the Baskerville military facility. While they wait for the scientists to find a solution, he and Sherlock must re-examine the nature of their friendship as they navigate daily life and the Work, all while trying to answer the truly important questions: Is it okay to pet your flatmate if he happens to be a dog at the moment? And how exactly do you beg a self-professed sociopath for cuddles? Part 1 of Dog Days

The Bravery of the Soldier by bakerstreetgirl (G, 101,703 +w., WIP || BAMF John, John in Afghanistan, PTSD, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Sherlock Cares, Epic Bromance, Platonic Soulmates, Platonics, Flashbacks) – When a news story about a hostage situation in Afghanistan breaks, details about John Watson’s military service come to light that the doctor had kept secret for a long time. Sherlock is intrigued and John manages to surprise the British government. What John needs in light of this story and the PTSD responses it flares up, is a friend. Can Sherlock Holmes step up to the job?Deals mainly with John’s career and military background, plus epic friendship, BAMFness and a little bit of case fic. Part 1 of the Before Baker Street series

We Will Survive by anny (M, 105,960 w. || Viclock vs Johnlock, Past Viclock, Anal / BJ’s / Orgasms, Music, Jealousy, Case Fic, Social Media, Protective Mycroft, Pining John / Sherlock, Fluff, Weddings, Drug References, Drunkenness, Angst, Humour, Character Death) – After Reichenbach, Sherlock is back in London to face a new villain: Sebastian Moran. But he has to deal with John’s new life with Mary Morstan, and he soon understands that things between them have changed. With the arrival of Victor Trevor in Sherlock’s life, John will finally deal with his true feelings for Sherlock…

How Long? by TheBritishBourbon (M, 111,010 w. || Kidnapping, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Sherlock, Protective John, PTSD Sherlock, Flashbacks, Dark Themes, Implied Torture) – Sherlock never got to jump off the roof of St. Barts, he never got the chance. Sherlock was abducted and held for 5 years, but now he has escaped. What awaits him as he returns to reality? Part 1 of How Long Universe

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe

Scotch Series by earlgreytea68 (M, 119,371 w. over 17 works || [Untagged, will tag when read]) – In which Sherlock asks Mycroft for a favor.

Did you feel it? : A soulmates AU by MorganeUK (G, 126,783 w. || Soulmates AU || Kid/Teen/Unilock, Protective Greg, Angst, Big Feels, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Mystrade, Injuries, Slow Burn, Anxious John, BAMF John, Protective John, Est. Rel., Happy Ending) – In a world where 0.01% of the population have a soulmate with whom they share pains and violent emotions… what are the odds that an ex-army doctor and an ex-addict detective open their heart and soul enough to found each others?Finally writing a twist on the soulmates trend… Hope you like it!

The Case of the Moebius Trip by Bitenomnom (NR, 129,218 w. || Time Travel, BAMF!John, Angst, Death, Post-TRF) – When John finally gives in and accepts a case for the first time since Sherlock fell eight months ago, he finds himself in a unique position: in possession of what his client calls a time machine, and desperate enough to give it a go. If it works, he could travel back in time. If it works, he could save Sherlock.

“Merry Christmas” I wrapped it up and sent it with a note saying “I love you” by starrysummernights (E, 136,580+ w. || WIP, chapter missing? || Post S4, Slow Burn, Mary is Not Nice, Christmas, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Parentlock, Past Torture / Rape) – John has moved back into 221B with his daughter Rosie after Mary was killed, but things are not exactly comfortable between him and Sherlock. After everything that has happened, they are trying to become friends again…and maybe something more. What better time than the Christmas season?! Takes place after TLD.

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w. || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel.) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it’s a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Ten Days by Engazed (E, 137,208 w. || Rape/Non-Con, Post-TRF, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Case Fic) – Sherlock Holmes has been dead for forty months, and John is at last beginning to live his life again. But just when he believes he might be happy, his world crashes back down around him.John is named a missing person. Someone is pointing DI Lestrade in the wrong direction. And as the days pass, his situation only grows more dire. It seems like the disappearance of his best friend is the only thing that can bring Sherlock Holmes back from the dead. Part 1 of The Fallen {{I haven’t read this one yet so heed the tags}}

Emperor Tales of the Frozen South by cwb (M, 153,444 w. || Penguin AU || Adventure, Rituals, Fluff, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Gay Rights, Bonding, Antartica) – At the bottom of the world, two intrepid explorers make their way in the harshest of environments. An important journey must be taken, and prophecies fulfilled, but not before family meddling, political interference, and self-doubt threaten to alter the future of an entire species.If you know me at all, you know that this had to be done. Part 1 of Emperor Tales of the Frozen South

Skeletons by flawedamythyst (T, 174,262 w. across 3 works || Implied Character Death) – Sherlock’s refusal to talk about his past hides far more skeletons than John could ever have guessed at. Halloween-esque AU.

All the Best and Brightest Creatures by wordstrings (E, 188,426 w. || Case Fic, Action/Adventure, POV First Person, Alternate Canon, Romance, Hurt / Comfort, Love at First Sight, Asexuality, Kidnapping, Torture, Drug Use/Addiction) – Sherlock sent Jim Moriarty to prison for killing Carl Powers at age ten. This is the story of the consequences.

Nature and Nurture by earlgreytea68 (M, 203,273 w. || Parentlock, Cloning, Kidlock, Dev. Rel.) – The British Government accidentally clones Sherlock Holmes. Which brings a baby to 221B Baker Street. Part 1 of Nature & Nurture

Free Falling by twistedthicket1 (M, 203,574 w. || Winglock, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Kidlock / Teenlock, Mystrade & Johnlock) – All Guardian angels are born with a Chosen human. When this child is born, the angel comes into being to protect and care for them during their life on Earth. For John Watson, all he cares about in the world revolves around his Chosen, Sherlock Holmes. Watching him grow up though, the angel soon learns that God must have had a sense of humor the day he decided to make Sherlock, as trouble seems to follow him like a magnet wherever he goes. John can’t decide what’s worse, the idea of losing his Chosen one, or the fact that he may be breaking the most taboo law of heaven as he disguises himself as a human to better protect and befriend the beloved detective he’s always watched from afar. He was meant to care for him. But what happens when caring evolves into something more? What happens when an emotion an angel is supposed to be incapable of possessing comes to life suddenly and viciously inside John’s chest?

The Jewel in the Tower by PoppyAlexander (E, 207,079 w. || Dystopian AU, Violence, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Mild Dub Con, One World Government, Class Issues, Assassin John / Geisha Sherlock, Self Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Espionage, Miscommunication, Sexual Fantasy, Masturbation, Letters/Texting, Phone Sex, Infidelity, First Time, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Injury Recovery, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Scars, Misgendering, Happy Endings) – In a contemporary dystopia, Unity is peace – despite the fact unsanctioned information, illicit currency, and every sort of danger flows unchecked in the world’s pleasure districts. John Watson, a weary hired gun, is assigned by the mysterious Mentor to investigate a subversive element lurking in the Icehouse, the world’s most famous House of Repose. As accustomed as he is to dealing with the unexpected, John is nevertheless woefully unprepared to meet the gem of the Ice house, Xie, the world renowned “drashaskaya,” the living work of art after which all other drashas are modeled. In sumptuous suites, amid trailing puddles of silk and fervent whispers in the night, John soon learns that nothing is as it seems in the floating world of London’s pleasure district. (PUBLISHED AS “At Night in the Floating World”)

The Good Morrow Series by greywash (E, 216,513 +w. across 5 works || WiP || Post-TRF Divergence, Horny John, Smut, Feelings, Negotiations, Christmas/Advent, Sherlock is a Mess, Relationships, Addiction Issues, PTSD, Therapy, Injury, Aging, Loneliness, Marriage, Family, Friendship, POV Second Person, Travel, Character Studies) – A post-S2 series where everyone has a lot of feels about everything and plausibility is stretched unto breaking. Also: fucking.

You Go To My Head by 7PercentSolution and J_Baillier (E, 257,765+ w. across 8 Stories, WiP || Surgeon AU || Medical Realism, Doctor John / Doctor Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Addiction, Angst, Slow Burn, PTSD, Pining, Insecurity) – This series is an alternate universe one, featuring the exciting medical and romantic adventures of doctors Watson (senior neuroanaesthetist) and Holmes (neurosurgeon).

Radioactive Trees In A Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor (E, 280,251 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S4, Suicidal Ideations, Alcohol / Rx Drug Abuse, Coming Out / Bisexual John, Seizures, Past/Referenced/Implied Child Abuse, Hallucinations, Rehab, Celibacy, Sobriety / Relapse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Psychological Trauma, Nice /Not Anti-Mary, John’s POV, Parentlock, First Time, Angst, Switchlock) – John Watson is what happens when a man can no longer see a reason to go on. John Watson is what happens when a man starts to let go. “It is what it is.” John Watson is what happens when what “it is” becomes too much to bear. This is a story of the life, death, and resurrection of John Hamish Watson.

Enigma by khorazir (M, 289,667 w. || Codebreaker / WWII / Imitation Game-Inspired AU || Case Fic, Espionage, Period-Typical Homophobia / Sexism, Pining Sherlock, Inexperienced / VirginSherlock, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Non-Graphic Violence) – It’s the autumn of 1941, war is raging in Europe, German U-boats are raiding Allied convoys in the Atlantic, the Luftwaffe is bombing English cities, and the cryptographers at Bletchley Park are working feverishly to decode their enemies’ encrypted communications. One should consider this challenge and distraction enough for capricious codebreaker Sherlock Holmes. But the true enigmas are yet waiting to be deciphered: an unbreakable code, a strange murder, and the arrival of Surgeon Captain John H. Watson of the Royal Navy.

My Heart Is True As Steel by prettysailorsoldier (E, 316,207 w. || Teenlock, Case Fic, Rugby, Fluff, First Kiss/Time, Past Drug Use, Anal, Blow Jobs) – When Sherlock and John become roommates at a prestigious sixth-form college, they both get a lot more than they bargained for. Between Shakespeare, rugby, and not a small amount of murder, it promises to be a very interesting year, but there is much more going on than meets the eye. A noose is tightening around the duo, darker and more dangerous than anyone realizes, and it will take everything they both have to unravel it before they lose everything they’ve found.

NUTRISCO ET EXTINGUO by Zoffoli (M, 327,772 w. || Alternating Second Person POV, Post-TRF, Character Study, Romance, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Humour, Mystery) – “You haven’t said what you wanted to say.” Well yes, some things take you by surprise, and you’re not quite prepared for them. Like when your best friend jumps off a building in front of you.

Deflowered - Director’s Cut by Lorelei_Lee (E, 328,535 w. || Mafia / Mob AU || Rape/Non-Con, Dub-Con, Boss John/Rentboy Sherlock, Bottomlock, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Jealous John, Prostate Milking, Sounding, Anal Beads/Plug, Anal Sex / Fingering, Spanking, Begging, Blow Jobs, Riding Crops, Begging, Romance, Desperation, Minor Character Death, Implied Self Harm, Violence) – It should have been strictly business. Being a Mafia boss with a sadistic sexual streak, John had long since realised that his playthings were in it for the money only. Being a masochistic rent boy, Sherlock seemed too good to be true. Little did they know…

The Men Who Talked Between the Words by Odamaki (E, 463,024 w. || Parentlock, UST/URT, Pining Sherlock, Grieving John, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Slow Burn/Build, Case Fic, First Kiss / Time, Implied/Referenced Suicide & Drug Use, Slow Burn, Sherlock Whump, Panic Attacks) – John expected to be a father some day; he expected to have the house, and the wife and the nice suburban job. Sherlock never expected to have children, in part because he never expected to make it past 30. As it turns out, you don’t get a choice. Crammed into Baker Street with a baby, John struggles with single-parenthood and his own fears, while Sherlock treads the fine line between doing too little and saying too much.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #long fics #novel length fics #100k fics #my fic recs #long post #burdenedwithacurse

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ahgaseda · 5 years

Text

no one would even notice | mark (got7) drabble

↣ info: smut, explicit

Making out with Mark had to be one of your favorite pastimes.

His skin was hot to the touch, courtesy of the Hawaii sun and your body on top of his, no doubt. His hands roamed your back, traversing over your hips before finding residence on your ass.

You giggled when he squeezed a handful, but gasped when his fingers slipped farther down to your folds.

You pulled away with a loud smack of your lips and chastised, “Mark, we are on the patio.”

Mark had never looked so flushed and lust was bold in his eyes. Biting his lip, he murmured, “Let me nut.”

For someone who always acted like a gentleman and treated you like an actual queen every minute of every day, it still amazed you how Mark could turn into the bluntest, dirtiest little shit when it came to your carnal pursuits.

“Let’s go inside first,” you whispered bashfully.

Mark cupped your cheek, pulling you closer to him again, and began kissing beneath your jaw. You practically purred, lashes fluttering, and you melted deeper into him once more.

Mark made a damn fine pillow and he more than loved feeling your breasts on his firm chest. If it were up to him, the two of you would never leave the house. All he needed was food, sex, and sleep; all of which could obviously be found at the house.

“I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side,” he growled in your ear. “No one would even notice.”

You giggled and feigning disbelief, exclaimed under your breath, “You are insane.”

“Then, why are you grinding on me?”

This boy was where you had laid all of your affections (and orgasms.) You would be hard pressed to ever turn him down for some loving, because he never failed to leave you sated and sore in the best ways.

He wasn’t wrong. Your position on top of him obviously lent itself to you straddling his hips. Making out heavily had made a certain bulge press against your bikini-clad core and now you were keen to rub against it.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said coyly, pulling yourself free of his mouth on your neck to give him a few kisses of your own. “But I’m still not having sex outside,” you added between nips against his neck.

“Come on,” Mark grumbled, gripping your ass a little firmer and steering your subtle movements. “It’s such a waste of good, wet pussy.”

Your cheeks flushed and you took his lower lip between your teeth, giving a quick tug before letting go and asking, “How do you even know I’m wet?”

“For the same reason I’m hard as a fucking rock right now.”

You were both aroused and horny, and the adrenaline of being exposed and vulnerable was shooting straight to your core. Sitting up on his lap, Mark blanked, suddenly worried you were about to storm away before your impulses got the better of you.

Your boyfriend watched you with bated breath as you got to your feet, in disbelief that you were going to leave him, but smirked as you turned around and straddled him again.

“If we get caught, I’m blaming you,” you spoke quietly, positioning yourself over him and pulling the hard erection from his swimming trunks.

Though he couldn’t see your face, Mark knew you would be watching for any unfortunate bystanders that could potentially catch a glimpse of your sins. He was a little disappointed that he wouldn’t get to see your bouncing breasts or your features scrunch with pleasure, but the sight of your half-naked backside wasn’t too bad either.

Running a hand down your spine and feeling your warm sun-kissed skin, Mark slipped his fingers into your bikini and made good on his word of pushing them out of the way. Meanwhile, you gripped his cock and steered the tip between your folds, sinking down slowly until your pussy had swallowed him whole.

“Good girl,” he groaned, finding purchase on your hips and watching you fuck him at your own pace.

You let out a whine as his cock stroked your sensitive walls, made all the more tense by your newfound voyeurism. Keeping your eyes peeled for any witnesses, you began to lose your concentration. Mark felt too good and too deep that you started caring less about getting caught and more about finding release.

“I’m insane, huh?” Mark teased, sinking his teeth into his lip at how mercilessly you were beginning to fuck him. “Look at you riding this dick.”

“Please make me come,” you begged, eyes winching closed. “Please, Mark.”

Mark could never deny you anything. Without hesitation, he sat up and wrapped his arms around you, his breath hot on your neck. You cried out in surprise, but instinctively wound your arms through his. He matched your pace, moving in tandem with your hips and thrusting to meet you.

“Such a good girl taking my cock,” Mark murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Should I fuck her full of cum?”

“Yes,” you panted, growing dangerously closer to climax until it was all you could think about. You arched your hips back and forth as fast as you could, listening to the sound of your wet bodies meeting over and over loudly.

“Fuck,” Mark grunted against your skin, losing his cool as you tightened like a vice around his dick. He knew you were so close to the edge you could almost taste it.

But who should come prancing around the corner but Kunpimook Bhuwakul himself.

“Hey, guys,” Bambam greeted, stopping stiller than a statue when he realized what he was seeing.

Eyes blown wide open, you gripped Mark a little tighter, hoping that the two of you had halted your movements fast enough to give the troublemaker just a little bit of doubt.

“What do you want?” Mark snarled, his head resting at the base of your neck.

“Um,” Bam hesitated. “Jack said we can go paragliding at five if you wanna join.”

“Yes, fine. Bye,” Mark snapped.

You and Bambam met eyes and you could see the wheels turning. Surely this seemed innocuous. After all, you and Mark were in your bikini and swimming trunks respectively.

For all Bam knew, you were sitting in his lap and he was holding you tightly like the possessive bastard everyone knew him to be. Not that you were riding him on the patio in reverse cowgirl, because that would be insane.

“You alright?” he asked, but his tone was almost playful.

“Mm-hm,” you hummed.

Bambam looked convinced and to your relief, he smiled. Then, he blurted, “Is there a dick in you right now?”

You glared at him for being caught, but you were too damn obstinate to lie. “Mm-hm,” you echoed.

“Nice,” cheered Bam, quickly fleeing the scene before Mark could pull out and beat the shit out of him.

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

#mine:drabbles #got7 smut #mark smut #mark tuan smut #kpop smut #got7 imagines #mark imagines #mark tuan imagines

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zerot0all · 5 years

Text

Gangsta | M

Mafia Theme

GOT7 JB x Fem Reader

M- Mature (smut, violence, mentions of drugs, crude humor , etc...)

[Y/N POV]

.02.

I was at a loss of words ... I watch as the man named Jae-Bum stood before me. Hands in his pockets , his tall stature seeming to tower over me and we weren’t even close. My mind raced back to memories from before .. to some it may seem like a few years but as the days go by , it seems more like a lifetime to me.

“What’s wrong babe... cats got your tongue.” His voice was similar to that of a man who I knew too well. His tone. The smoothness and warmth of his voice was thrilling , yet I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

“I...” feeezing once a single word escaped my lips was normal , especially for being in the presence of this man.

“Y/n, emergency ... main floor.” Kat’s voice rings in through my speaker phone , announcing trouble in my place of business. Blinking back my shock, Jae-Bum cocks his head. Ignoring the situation I was currently in , I rush out of my office. Jae-bum right behind me , to the problem at hand.

“You fucking whore,” heavy grumbling of sorts catches my attention and then a crowd gathered around. I interfere, pushing myself through the people to get to my girl. I see her first , Sadie, she was in another girls arms , fear stricken. She was one of the new girls... so I can only imagine her mind.

My eyes settle on hers.

“That bitch stole from me!” The older man hollered , his words slurring as his arms flared around trying to convince the others of such things. I rolled my eyes , this guy has been a problem for some time now , I just never knew he was this close to fucking things up.

“I assure you sir, that my girls do not steal.” I say sternly once I stand before him, not needing to get close. The man huffed , annoyed as his eyes went past me and back to Sadie.

“She owes me .. fucking slut.” The drunk mess spat , taking a few steps towards my frame to get to my girl. Before he was able to even get close , a large figure interfered . Blocking the man from approaching.

Jae-bum stood tall, I can see the faces of those around us contort. Some of their faces had drained of color as they would slowly take several steps back.

“Who the fuck are you ... get out of my way , that bitch owes me money!” The older man slurred his words , taking a brave step towards Jae-Bum, but a heavy hand to the old fucks chest brought everyone to a silent stare off.

“I would advise you to calm down and exit the building ... before I really do something about this. Are we clear ?” His voice had dropped a few octaves , seeming throaty as he leaned down to glare at the old man. The whole club seemed to go silent , so deathly quiet you could hear someone breath in the distance.

“You... you’re...” the man spoke up only to be pushed back into the crowed by Jae-Bum, causing everyone to move out of his way.

“I said leave ... before I send my men after you. Is that what you’d like ... another strike on your name ?” Jae-Bum was threatening the man, who was now drained of color. The man who had caused such a scene in my place of business had gone pale like a ghost. The fear radiating from the drunken fool was one I’m very used too. One I’ve seen daily in my life.

In the midst of clearing out the unnecessary drama , I turn towards my girls. Signaling them to get back to work , meanwhile still holding Sadie’s hand.

“Speak.” I whisper to her.

“He paid me to have sex ... begged me but that’s not our job. So I denied ,” her voice shook as she explained. I glanced around , hoping no one would hear.

“And the money?”

“It’s in my bra,” She shyly glances down to her chest , her breast were clearly bigger than mine. Nearing double D’s. I grinned , knowing damn well how the money is hiding in there.

“Good girl , forget this ever happened and go get ready for your next client babe. You did good ...” I pet her, casually placing my hand to her cheek. She was so new but she knew how to get these sick fucks back ... my girls will not , under any circumstances, interact in any sexual way or form with the clientele. But if such man throws money .. then my girls have all the right to take that cash and run. Like as if I wasn’t going to teach my girls how to scam these low lives... they all deserve it anyways.

As I watch my girls get back to work , and my staff clean up the mess .. my eyes go back to Jae-Bum as he escorts the drunk man to the door. Some more men appear, nodding as Jae-Bum spoke to them. It was like he was giving orders , the authority he has made me shiver. Why is that so familiar ? I kept watching , admiring his tall frame. Perfectly broad shoulders extended wide , going down to a slim waist but yet strong legs. He was an all around man ... but in this light , he radiated power.

And like a switch ... I knew who he was. My eyes grew with suspicion and shock all at once as he finally turned , catching my eye instantly. I shook , no , this can’t be happening. He cocked his head as he watched as I lost control , rushing back to my office.

No. This can’t be happening.

Not now.

Not here.

But I’m not alone in my office , as Jae-Bum walks right in , closing and locking the door behind him. He raises a brow, casually placing his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. He just stood there , so effortlessly gorgeous as my behind hit the desk in sudden fear. I gasped.

“You’re... oh my god.” My voice broke as he began to take long steps towards my frozen frame.

“I haven’t been called God in a while , i rather go by JB. Suits my style a lot more ... but if you want to call me-”

“Shut up. You’re Im Jae-Bum... your family basically owns half of South Korea.” I hiss loudly, the news dripping from my lips.

“More or so .. yeah, something like that.” He grinned proudly as I made sense of things. How could I be such an idiot , he introduced himself and it never clicked ?

“What are you doing here?” The sudden question irked me , this was strange that one of the biggest drugs lords was in my place of business. We don’t have trouble with them ... we’ve never ran into them in that way. Yes, some men come in from a specific work background , but we don’t ask questions. If you don’t bother us ... we won’t bother you.

JB continues to smile , making his way towards me. His eyes have grazed every inch of my being since he’s locked the door behind him. My skin prickled with a new sensation .., want? Need? A craving?

He was a man who everyone wants either dead or in bed. He is notorious for being a sharp mobster and yet, a rough lover. You think I haven’t heard the stories about him? He’s famous for his work and his ... cock.

“Like I mentioned , you and I have a very interesting history and well, I want what’s rightfully mine. That’s all..” he says as casual as ever , taking a seat right in front of me. Crossing his long legs , he watches as I take in his words. History? Rightfully his? What the hell is he talking about ?

“Don’t play dumb with me y/n. You’re one hell of a woman , sexy and smart ... I know damn well you know who I am and why I’m here.” He spoke up, completely making me jump in my skin. Still not fully aware of his presence, he radiates power , even with a sly grin on his face.

I quickly began adding scenarios in my head. People from my past who have made an impact on me. When it all finally dawned on me. Those two beautiful dots which sit so gracefully over his eye lid made my whole world drop beneath my feet.

“Mystery client ?” I whisper , my eyes gradually growing as did his smile. He nodded , slightly cocking his head to the side yet again, his eyes began to dip down my frame.

“God, you filled out nicely babe. I knew that pole would tone you right up... you were so new and naive.” His voice was once again full with humor. Like this was normal to him .. almost casual friends meeting up after years. But this wasn’t normal ... this man paid me an abundance of cash everytime I danced for him. Because of his gracious donations , I put myself through school.

No. No. I shouldn’t belittle my hard work. No. I worked my ass off. Dancing all night. Taking shifts almost all week and weekends from girls who hated me and wished to leave this club. I was teased and pushed around as a fresh newly dancer. I made myself who I am now ... this is nonsense if JB wishes to take that from me.

“Impossible. I’ve earned this .., all of this. I owe you nothing.” Was my quick witted reply, to which he smirked. A sly eye roll and he was up on his feet , towering over my smaller frame.

“Funny you should say that ... since about 90% of all of this belongs to me.” The seriousness radiating from him was carnal, the atmosphere turning dense the closer he got. JB lifted his brow once he was as close as I could let him... my nose instantly picking up his strong manly cologne which made my skin crawl.

I began to shake my head. No way is all of this his ... no way did I work blood , sweat and tears for him to come back and rip it away.

“That’s not fair,” were the words which escaped my lips. I wanted to scream , I wanted to cry but most of all, I wanted to rip his face off. Who did he think he was , coming in here demanding the rights to my business.

“Look babe, lets come to an agreement at least. What about 50/50?”

“No.” I replied monotone , standing up to him. JB softly chuckled to himself , glancing away. My heart beat for a few seconds before his chest was pushing me back onto my desk. His hands bravely cupped my hips and halted my body on top , sitting me right at eye level with him. Words could not express how shocked I was with his actions , as he confidently pushed between my thighs , setting himself in a cozy manner. My skin heated , my jaw dropped and soon after , he was gripping the nape of my neck harshly. I gasped.

“Either we go 50/50 or I collect in other ways. If I were you , I would choose wisely. You need me here. This kind of business isn’t for the cute and innocent babe.” He breathed into my skin, his lips finding my cheek as he gracefully hovered over my flesh.

“JB,” i whispered , to which he softly groaned. His body squeezing more into my thighs, spreading my legs wider for his hips. The warmth which rested deep within my core began to sizzle ... not in an angered manner but more in a sense that ... I haven’t been touched in a while.

“God, just the way you say my name is addicting.” He said on a breath , his lips now ghosting over mine.

“If I agree ... promise to .. never lay a fucking hand on me.” I hiss sharply as a sent a heavy slap across his face , pushing him back harshly. JB stumbled then fell into the seat , his eyes huge as the hand print arose on his cheek. He stayed silent.

“You’re right ... a huge part of my life was possible thanks to you , but I’ll be damned if I let you take it all.” I spit, going to stand and fix myself.

I am the boss and if he wishes to work with me .. he will get this version.

“30/70?” I bargain to which he huffs a laugh.

“No deal babe. It’s either 50/50 or I’m walking out that door and coming back with a vengeance.” He teased , cocking his brow , threatening me. I swallowed hard , taking in his words.

I don’t like trouble.

Never did. Never will.

Damn it.

“Fine. 50/50... but you stay the hell away from me and my girls. Understood?” I had to fold. My fear was his power. JB could have me out on my ass begging on the streets as fast as I could throw him out. This wasn’t a mess I wanted to deal with.

“Perfect. I guess , I’ll see you tomorrow then... Partner .” He winked going to the door , and walking out of my office. My breathing hiked. My heart jumped into the pit of stomach as it all dawned on me.

JB ... could be the end of everything I ever wanted and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.

———————

[MS]

PART ONE WILL HAVE THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS LINKED..

#got7 #got7 fanfic #got7 jb #got7 jaebum #got7 fanfiction #got7 au #got7 angst #got7 smut #got7 fluff #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 one shots #got7 series #got7 kpop #got7 drabbles #got7 igot7

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dreamlover31 · 5 years

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Deadly Temptations

Hello my fellow tumblr members, I know it’s been a while since I’ve written any stories but I finally had the time to dish out a little something, I hope you guys enjoy

Tags: @madpanda75 @dreila03 @thatesqcrush @tropes-and-tales @xemopeachx @southern-magnolia @melsquared79 @glimmerglittergirl

Standing over the bathroom sink, he stared at his reflection in the mirror and the image displayed would have disgusted anybody; even his own mother. It showed an empty, hollow shell of a man, one who has committed a sinful act in which no amount of forgiveness can wash the stain upon his soul; the just rewards would be nothing but shame, self loathing and despair. With a twist of the knobs on the faucet, he cupped his hands under the flowing water until it rose halfway and then splashed the lukewarm liquid over his face, then he grabbed the small towel on the rack beside him. He made quick work of drying off his face, at the end he tossed the cloth aside and reverted his gaze back towards the mirror; the dark green irises intensely focused on the glass but simultaneously his mind drifted and all he could muster were four words that kept repeating themselves over and over again like a chant: this has to end. In his brief moment of clarity, he threaded his long, thick fingers through his dark hair that had a few greys sprouting and proceeded to exit the bathroom.

Upon entering the adjacent room, he was welcomed with the sight of a young woman sprawled out on a bed naked as the day she was born, her arms stretched out towards the edge of the bed as her feet were crossed at the ankles; her long slender fingers dangled in the air and then her head turned to the point where she made eye contact with the older gentleman who stood in the doorway. The woman’s dark brown hair glided along her backside, meanwhile, her small, pouty lips coiled into a smile; it was at that moment she rose from the spot she vacated and padded towards him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and placed small gentle kisses over his jawline and neck.

The young woman ceased her actions briefly and gazed up at him with her matching dark brown eyes, she nuzzled his face with her nose and said, “Mmmm...you never cease to amaze me counselor...I don’t know which is better, that silver tongue of yours or that big Cuban cock...well either way…” Her eyes drifted up to meet his gaze, but what she saw made her pause.

His stoic expression sent a chill down her spine, sensing a shift in what was supposed to be an intimate moment, her arms began to unweave from his neck; when she was mere inches from him, her face contorted into one of confusion and unease.

“What is it?”

“We need to talk”

The woman swallowed softly as she felt her heart sank at his declaration then with bated breath waited for him to continue.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this...but this has to stop...I’m done with this, all the sneaking around and lying...everything”

Her eyes widened and she could feel the heat radiating up her body, her pulse quickening and her heart pounding; the fingers on both hands curled up to form fists while she stood prone in her position in the room; she glared at him and with a huff asked:

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Donning nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, the woman’s paramour inhaled a deep breath and continued.

“Sophie...I know you don’t want to hear this but I’m in love with Charlotte and this...what we’re doing isn’t fair to her, I can’t go another minute with all this guilt and shame that I have knowing that she’s none the wiser of what’s been going on...she deserves better than that...better than me, so I decided that I’m going to do the honorable thing and put an end to this ”

Sophie was stunned at this confession, here was this man whom she had not only given her body, but her time and her heart; a man whom she had met at a restaurant where it was frequented by cops, lawyers and various working class crowds. On that fateful night, she spotted him at the bar nursing a glass of scotch and furiously scribbling on a yellow legal pad; she slid into the stool next to him and conversed with him about the different aspects of their lives where it was revealed that he was a well known ADA who prosecuted sex crimes and she was ironically a paralegal for a private practice firm. As the alcohol flowed, Sophie became a little bold, her fingers played with his suspenders as she smiled, in the meantime, the handsome ADA was entranced by the young beauty; their encounter quickly escalated with a kiss then a shared cab ride that ended at her apartment.

The couple fumbled their way into her apartment where they clawed at each other until articles of clothing were removed and in the events that followed, Sophie and her conquest ended up in her bed where they expressed wanton acts of sexual decadence. From then on, she continued to pursue the handsome stranger that she would come to know as Rafael Barba, their liaisons mainly consisted of them engaging in various acts of carnality in various places; all the while, Charlotte remained oblivious to their affair. Now, it was as if fate had played a cruel joke on her and she was about to lose everything that she held dear. She reached out and took his hand then looked at him pleadingly with tears swimming in her eyes and said:

“Rafael...you can’t do this…you don’t understand...I’m in love with you”

Rafael pulled his hand away and started towards the bed where he gathered his clothes and began to redress, as he was putting his pants back on; Sophie came up from behind him and placed her hand on his bare shoulders and begged:

“You won’t be happy with her...” her lips found purchase on his shoulders, tears began to flow down her cheeks as she pressed small kisses on his shoulder blades and then ultimately put her arms around him again.

He continued to ignore her pleads, although at one point he had to shrug her off him in order to get his undershirt and dress shirt back on and when he finally slipped on his shoes, he removed himself from her bed and then grabbed his jacket from a nearby chair; as he made his way to the door, Sophie pulled on a satin robe and followed him. She was able to push past him and barred him from leaving by placing her body at the door, her dark eyes bore into him and with a sneer she exclaimed:

“You can’t do this to me...I gave you everything and you think you can throw me away like a piece of trash!”

Rafael sighed, “I’m sorry if this upsets you, but I’m going to marry her”...so please let’s not make this any harder than it has to be”

Sophie refused to move from her post, and Rafael was quickly losing his patience, he moved less than an inch when Sophie pushed him back and began beating on his chest with her fists. Rafael grabbed both of her wrists into a single hand and struggled to gain control of the belligerent woman, finally, their tussle ended with Sophie being thrown to the ground and him making his escape through the front door where it was left opened. Within seconds after he left, Sophie regained her footing and through the doorway she stared at his backside as he disappeared down the hallway to the adjoining elevators then shouted:

“YOU’LL BE BACK YOU BASTARD...JUST YOU WAIT!”

Rafael entered the cart then pressed the button for the lobby, as soon as the elevator doors closed, she slammed the door and stomped back into her bedroom; what transpired was a cacophony of objects being thrown against the wall and ear shattering screams so loud that you thought that someone was being murdered, finally, Sophie regained some level of composure and trekked towards her dresser where she rested her palms on top of the varnished wood, heavy breaths emanated from her mouth and then it was as if a lightbulb went off in her head. She opened the top drawer and rummaged through the different piles of clothing in her midst until she came upon the item in question, a small 357 magnum laid in her hands and as she stared down at the gun, her lips curled into a mischievous smile.

“You think I’m going to let you destroy me and live happily ever after...no fucking way...you don’t get to win”

#rafael barba #fatal attraction #raul esparza #temptation

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oaklheart-blog · 6 years

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Tochmarc Étaíne - The Wooing of Etain - Passage 1

This was written for use as study material for Thistle Protogrove of Ár nDraíocht Féin, a Druid Fellowship. That isn't to say that it cannot be used for study outside of this group, but please let me know if you are using it. Insight is welcome, discussion is encouraged. Using this well-known story, I hope to help folks become better acquainted with some of the Gods of Irish Religion. The writing in the notes is informal, in hopes of holding the attention of some very distracted readers. You know who you are--I still love you.

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

There was a famous king of Ireland of the race of the Tuatha De Danann [Tua-dey-Dan-ann], Eochaid Ollathair [OH-hay-d ALLA-hay] his name. He was also named the Dagda [DAG-dha], for it was he that worked wonders for them and controlled the weather and the crops. Wherefore men said he was called The Good God. Elcmar of the Brug [BRU] had a wife whose name was Eithne [En-Ya] and another name for her was Boand [BO-an] . The Dagda desired her in carnal union. The woman would have yielded to the Dagda had it not been for fear of Elcmar [elk-MER] , so great was his power. Thereupon the Dagda sent Elcmar away on a journey to Bres [BUR-as: Beautiful] son of Elatha in Mag nInis [ALE-ah-hah-in-Mag-Nin-ISH] , and the Dagda worked great spells upon Elcmar as he set out, that he might not return betimes (that is, early) and he dispelled the darkness of night for him, and he kept hunger and thirst from him. He sent him on long errands, so that nine months went by as one day, for he had said that he would return home again between day and night. Meanwhile the Dagda went in upon Elcmar's wife, and she bore him a son, Aengus, and the woman was whole of her sickness when Elcmar returned, and he perceived not her offense, that is, that she had lain with the Dagda.

The Dagda meanwhile brought his son to Midir's [MID-ir] house in Bri Leith in Tethba [BRUH-ley / TEY-buh] , to be fostered. There Aengus was reared for the space of nine years. Midir had a great playing-field in Bri Leith [BRUH-ley]. Thrice fifty lads of the young nobles of Ireland were there and thrice fifty maidens of the land of Ireland [150 boys + 150 girls = 300]. Aengus was the leader of them all, because of Midir's great love for him, and the beauty of his form and the nobility of his people. He was also called Mac Og (the Young Son), for his mother said: "Young is the son who was begotten at the break of day and born betwixt it and evening."

****1: NOTES****

This passage serves several purposes. Not only is it terribly important in Irish mythology to establish the lineage of a God or Goddess, but it is also terribly crucial, especially in earlier literature (of which sort this is) to highlight the parents' merits, abilities, and so on. This foreshadows those of the child, while adding bulk to the narrative in general; and as we know, this was important because they didn't have television, computers, and smart-phones back then. Initially, we see the very typical and oft-mentioned 'praises' to the Dagda for his abilities "for it was he that worked wonders for them and controlled the weather and crops". The next half of this section highlights his other abilities, which include magic and control over nature and time. The Dagda is sometimes referred to as "King of the Sidhe", for it is he who is accredited with building the Sidhe mounds, and who keeps the sacred magic of the Druids. Hence his title as Father of the Druids. These traits are highlighted by the rather potent spell he works on Elcmar. Furthermore, his deception here shows his cunning, a trait that is highlighted in Angus as something of a trickster.

After Angus Og's birth, he is transported by his father to Midir's house in Tethba, who one of his older sons. This section has a few of those ever-present homages to the Druidic fixation with the number three. The first is, of course, the statement of the length of time of the pregnancy and the passage of days. Nine months in a pregnancy, and as we know if you divide nine by three you get, well . . . three. Elcmar is gone for the span of the pregnancy, but experiences time differently thanks to An Dagda's spell, which causes him to perceive nine months as one day. Nine divided by three is three, three divided by three is one. I may be losing some of you. In Irish myths, Gods are often three in one, and I have long assumed these numerical clues to be hints at that theme.

In the next paragraph, we are given more numbers to think on. Again, we have the theme of nine leading back to one, with Angus being reared in the span of nine years. The next reference to the number three is a little more elusive, if you're just reading it at face value, but a sequence of equations leads to an infinite progression of the sacred number three.

"Thrice fifty lads of the young nobles of Ireland were there and thrice fifty maidens of the land of Ireland."

3x50 = 150x2 = 300

300/3 = 100

100/3 = 33.3r

What does the infinite nature of the number three here indicate? Well, the number is in regard to those whom Angus is leader of, perhaps indicating his connection to the eternal and divine. Likely as well is this as a reference to his link with the royalty and kingship of the Tuatha De Dannan. Whatever the case, it is clear that numbers were hugely important in Irish, considering the nature of Ogam and the Druids' calenders of the phases of the moon and other celestial bodies. Figures such as The Morrigan and The Dagda, who are primordial mother and father archetypes each have a significant link to the triadic theme. The former having 6-9 Goddesses in her conclave, and the latter being referred to as a God of "Druidic sciences", and who is referenced as being of "multi-formed triads". Three is ever-present in Druidic writing, and surrounds the origins and stories of the Gods, seeming to hint at their divine qualities; and Angus the Young is no exception.

Names, phrases, and words in this section:

Tuatha De Danann - Tua-day-Dan-ann - There is some debate on the proper pronunciation and spelling of this phrase, mainly over the usage of "De", or "of". I won't get into that too much here, but wanted to make it apparent, if anyone ever sees it spelled sans "De", not to be alarmed or confused. It means the same thing either way, and that is "The Tribe/People of Danu". Danu being, of course, the ever-present but rarely heard from mother-deity in Irish mythology.

Eochaid Ollathair - OH-hay-d ALLA-hay - This is the Dagda's "true" name, which is handy to know seeing as how he has about a dozen or so monikers, many of which indicating his red nature.The color red is associated with magic and otherworldly forces in Irish mythology. Here, though, his name means "Horseman Allfather".

Dagda - DAG-dha - The Dagda, when translated quite literally and simply, means "The Good God", though there are other translations that have its meaning as "God of All" or "God of the World".

Brugh - BREW - This word refers to a dwelling or a house, though is sometimes translated as "mansion" or "palace". Brughs are where the Aes Sidhe [Ays-Shee] in Irish mythology dwell. An Dagda's Brugh na Boinne - The House at the River Boinne, which brings us to . . .

Boan - BO-an - Also spelled Boinne, the River Boinne is named for her, and in Irish mythology she is the Goddess associated with this body of water. The mother of Angus Og, her name means "White Cow".

Elcmar - ELK-mer - His name means "spiteful/envious one", from the proto-Irish "Ealcmhar". He serves as steward to the Dagda, and is husband to Boan. He is killed by Angus Og, and is clearly an ill-fated character from the start of things.

Bres - BUR-as - Bres the Beautiful appears in several legends, most notably the Silver Hand of Nuadu. Outwardly, he is considered to be the most beautiful and intelligent man in Ireland, but inwardly his heart is small and tarnished, full of ego and selfish vanity. Think the Beast in Beauty and the Beast before he turned all big and gnarly. Bres is made defacto King of the Tuatha De Danann due to Nuada's incapacity as King, and he drives the kingdom into the ground. Eventually, you have the God of Speech doing back-breaking labor and An Dagda being starved near to dying. He ends up being ousted as King, though, and everything is okay.

Elatha in Mag nInis - ALE-ah-hah-in-Mag-Nin-ISH - Often billed simply as Elatha, for reasons that should be quite obvious, though his name isn't as intimidating as it at first appears. He is a prince of the Formorians, considered to be the "bad guys" in several fables, never-minding that Irish mythology doesn't always have traditional concepts of 'good' and 'bad'. Before you go writing off the Fomorians as 'bad guys', bear in mind that one of the greatest heros of Irish oral tradition was half-Fomorian: That is, the shining one, Lugh. Anyways, Elatha is most likely the namesake remnant of a long-forgotten moon deity, as he is said to have visited Eriu [UR-you], the matron Goddess of Ireland, at night by way of a shining, silver boat.

Bri Leith / Tethba - BRUH-ley / TEY-buh - In this passage, it states that "the Dagda meanwhile brought his son to Midir's house in Bri Leith in Tethba, to be fostered". Bri Leith was a place in Tethba, which was a kingdom, the location of which is still up for question. Most can agree that it encompassed parts of Westmeath and most of County Longford--the North-West of the Province of Leinster. If you don't know what I'm talking about, look at a Map of Ireland and find Dublin. You'll be in roughly the correct region.

*Note on Irish Writing*

"Young is the son who was begotten at the break of day and born betwixt it and evening."

This is a very round about way of saying that Angus was born in the afternoon. It would seem rather pointless to us, nowadays, to be so particularly wordy about this, but to the Druids it was all about the number of syllables present in their sentences. This, of course, is utterly destroyed when translated to English, but you understand the objective, I hope. These numbers usually referred back to the number three, or were otherwise numbers divisible by three. Some part of this roundabout speech is also a product of the syntax of the old Irish language. You may have found some examples of that in the excerpt so far, such as:

". . . the woman was whole of her sickness when Elcmar returned, and he perceived not her offense, that is, that she had lain with the Dagda."

A modernized version would read:

" . . . she was no longer pregnant when Elcmar came back, and he had no idea that she had lain with the Dagda."

It is important to remember this syntax difference, and the numeric syllable importance whilst reading Irish myths, as it can be very easy to become confused in the esoteric style. Honesty is my way of conveyance, of this subject, I speak not untrue. See, it's easy once you get the hang of it, but until you do it can make your eyes glaze over.

#druidism #irish mythology #irish myth #the wooing of etain #mythology #writings #mine

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anniehowsback · 7 years

Text

House of the rising...

SPN fic: R, 9K words, post 12x23, Sam POV, h/c, mainly Sam Dean Cas and Jack, heavy on the speculation based on spoilers, including a gratuitous wet-shirt-scene.

Trigger warnings: show typical violence and self harm, major character death (but resurrection!)

Dawn was breaking by the time he made it back outside.

Sam had collected himself before opening the door, unsure of what he’d find, but the scene was simply quiet and beautiful, with that early-morning-glory vibe of a lake lying at the foot of the mountains. The sky was lighting up, the stars were fading in the background, and mom was gone and Castiel was lying dead in the dirt.

Sam took a shaky breath and walked over to his brother.

Dean was sitting on the ground, holding Cas’ body propped up from behind, arms wound tightly around him. Sam could see the top of Dean’s bowed head, but his face was hidden, buried in Cas’ shoulder. He was humming ‘Hey Jude’ so softly under his breath that Sam thought he might be imagining it. By contrast the angel’s (his friend) head had lolled awkwardly to the side, and his face had gone slack, eyes open and unmistakably dead.

Sam stood over them for a long moment, staring at the point where the rift had swallowed mom and Lucifer.

Trapped in a hellish world with Lucifer. Of all the things he’d wished he could have in common with his mother, things to talk about and bond over, this was not a scenario he had ever even considered.

He refocused his attention closer, and squatted down next to his brother and their dead friend. Dean ignored him until Sam reached out and closed Cas’ eyes.

(read it on A03)

With a deep breath, Dean looked up and uncurled a little. Sam was surprised to see that his brother appeared to be calm and his face a little pale, but was apparently entirely dried-eyed.

“You ok?”, Dean grunted.

“Yeah,” Sam answered. “You?”

Dean nodded.

“We… need to bury Kelly,” Sam tried, and Dean nodded again.

“Pyre. Deserves a proper send off.”

“We’ll have to make one for Cas too.”

Dean didn’t reply immediately, tightening his hold for a second. Sam was afraid an argument was about to come up, but then Dean nodded a third time, looking perhaps resigned and dejected, or even defeated. He lowered Cas back down to the dirt, in the middle of the ragged scorch marks of now-gone wings, and let Sam pull him up to his feet.

They set to work silently. They had built pyres so many times by now that they didn’t even need to talk to each other to coordinate. They could tell the best place at a glance, and they knew the type of wood needed, and how much. Sam scoured the woods for some longer branches needed for the outer structure, while Dean hauled all the firewood staked by the house.

The early morning dew made everything around him shimmer, but it was shit for firewood. A pretty, useless sight. Heh, Sam smirked to himself. Pretty useless. No one to share it with. So many dead because he had trusted the Brits (Eileen, god, Eileen). Mom gone and probably being tortured that very moment and never coming back. Everything was wet. They were going to light the pyre with their friend on it and it was going to smoke and hiss and-

A sob broke out suddenly out of Sam’s throat while he was smack dab in the middle of the trees, alone. He hadn’t expected it, but once he started he simply kept going. He cried, on and off, through the entire process of building the pyre. Dean never shed a single tear.

They wrapped Kelly up in the bed linens, and even put the fresh flowers they found around the house with her. After lighting her up and standing respectfully for a moment, they went back to work for Cas.

Jack observed them from a window the entire time. Dean asked if they were going to have a problem, but Sam said no, not for now, so they left him be.

Before wrapping Cas up in one of the sheets, Sam asked Dean if he wanted to keep the trench coat. Dean was taken aback by the question, and for a moment his calm demeanor wobbled. He looked at Sam, stricken. “I can’t. It’s his.” Sam didn’t argue the point, and they just finished their work.

They stood guard and kept both fires burning until all that was left were ashes, which they then swept into the lake.

They left the place at dawn the following day. In less than forty-eight hours they had lost half their family, and gained a nephilim. The drive back was uneventful. Sam couldn’t help but feel that it was simply the calm before the inevitable shit-storm.

If the first time they had driven to the lake cabin they’d been frantic to beat Lucifer to the punch, the second time… Sam wasn’t sure what the hell was going on the second time, but Jack had said something about having figured out the ‘grip of death’ and how to break it, and Dean had hauled them all off right back to that damn lake. Sam had actually gotten nauseous, but whether it was from the reckless driving or the worry over this being a massive misunderstanding (and they’d had more than their share of them with Jack over the past few weeks) he couldn’t say.

Misgivings aside, when they’d reached the lake Dean had frog-marched Jack right to the edge. The nephilim had dipped his hands with a smug flourish, and the entire body of water had lit up.

And then nothing.

Several moments passed, and then Jack’s face crumpled and he started crying in frustration, working himself up into a tantrum. Dean, meanwhile, was absolutely furious, and had stomped right off, so it was Sam who noticed the dark blob appearing in the middle of the lake, slowly making its way to the shore.

“Hey!”, he yelled, catching both their attention. Early morning mist was still rising from the trees all around them, and rolling across the lake, but within moments the dark blob coalesced into a dark head, and started to move faster in their direction.

Dean waded out until the water was up to his knees, and then froze into place, waiting.

Sam held his breath. Please, he thought. One more miracle. Please.

As soon as he reached shallow waters, Castiel stood up, water pouring down from his sodden clothes, alive. He walked purposefully towards Dean and they hugged, hard and long, before they both stepped back onto the pebbled beach.

“Hi Sam,” Cas greeted, voice even more wreaked than what Sam remembered. Sam pulled him into a tight hug of his own, even though his friend was wet and icy like a drowned corpse. He could feel him breathing and, when he paid attention to it, he could even feel a heartbeat through the water-logged clothes.

Cas was white as a sheet and his lips were blue. The fact that he wasn’t shivering wasn’t necessarily a good sign.

Dean grabbed Cas by the wrist. “You’re going to freeze to death, and then we’ll be back to square one.”

“That’s easily avoidable,” Cas replied, shaking him off. He shrugged out of his trench coat and his jacket in one go, dropping them to the ground, and went for his tie before either brother could say anything. His white shirt was plastered to his body, effectively transparent. Sam couldn’t see any wounds, or any remnant of wounds. He did note that Cas had a lot more muscle mass than he’d given him credit for up until now.

Dean was gaping.

It seemed that all the adulting was falling to Sam these days. “Let’s get you inside and dry you up,” he cajoled. “Both of you.”

“What about my mom?”

The three of them turned to watch Jack. The nephilim was looking expectantly at the lake, and then back at Castiel. “Is she coming?”

“You must be Jack,” Cas greeted, stepping towards him. Their eyes lit up for a moment, blue and gold, as they regarded one another warily. “Your mother’s soul is in heaven. There’s nothing here but remnants of her physical body. I’m sorry, but that’s not enough to bring her back.”

“How come you came back, then?”

Castiel glanced at the Winchesters before attempting an answer. “My Grace was spent here. And I heard the call.”

“Wait, you what??” Dean stepped forward, jamming his finger in Cas’ chest. “I’ve been praying-!”

“I know.”

“You… and you only answer now?”

“I wouldn’t have answered the summons at all if it wasn’t for your prayers. But I couldn’t pull myself back together on my own, Dean. I don’t have that kind of power. No angel does.”

“Right,” Dean breathed, anger dissolving, and something suspiciously close to tenderness spreading across his face. “Well, if I’m freezing, you must be fucking miserable. Let’s do a little B&E and warm up.”

“We don’t usually do this, Jack,” Sam felt the need to clarify.

After all this time where Dean seemed to cycle between only two moods (homicidal rage and apathy), now that Cas was back he declared a season of celebration. Out drinking at a different bar every night, flirting with every woman that so much as looked either in his or Cas’ direction, and quickly sleeping his way through all the willing ones he could charm. Sam had grown exasperated with his antics before the week was out, but would tag along just to keep Castiel company while Dean was being an asshole.

Dean kept pushing women at Cas, and when the angel inevitably failed to follow through, he’d claim a duty to satisfy the lady, and off they’d go.

Castiel was clearly growing more and more uncomfortable with each instance, but Dean was determined to get him laid. “You’re a virgin again, Cas! You get to make up for the crappy first time you had with that reaper!”

“I’m really not interested in carnal congress with human women, Dean. The risk for an angel is too high, as we’re reminded daily.”

Jack was… well. Sam wasn’t thinking about it just now.

Some type of trade fair had blown into town, bringing lots of strangers to their usual watering holes. Dean was busy ‘teaching pool’ to a blonde in a power suit, while Sam and Cas nursed a Belgian beer courtesy of a guy who was really into marathon running. He was telling them about the various places he’d travelled to to run, Cas occasionally remarking that he’d seen them as well, while Sam listened with interest. The guy didn’t have much range, but he was nice and had a good sense of humor.

At a certain point he made Castiel smile with a detailed recount of the Tokyo marathon he’d run two years previously, and Sam noted the guy suddenly leaning way more into his friend’s direction, and basically cutting Sam out of the conversation. Thinking this was likely to be a better ‘teaching experience’ than any Dean had thrown his way recently, Sam quietly stood up and went to sit at the bar on his own.

One moment he was chatting amicably with the bartender, and the next Dean was standing right next to him.

“Where’s Cas?”

Sam looked back at their table, now deserted. “I left him with Steve maybe half an hour ago? I dunno man.”

“Steve? Who’s Steve?”

“One of the salesmen of the group?” he gestured vaguely around the bar, packed with people in suits. “He was really into Cas, I just gave them a little room.”

“Oh! Of course! Leave him with ‘Steve the salesman’! Did you at least check him?”

“Dude, it’s Cas. One, he just needs a glance to see true faces, and two, he can take care of himself.”

“Let’s… not go there.” Dean pulled out his cell and checked it. “He’s still around here somewhere. Come on.”

“Dean, let him-“

But Dean had already taken off and Sam, fearing for Steve, shot right after him.

Their search ended five minutes later, after making sure the toilets and the back lot where empty, or at least empty of their friend (Sam was pretty sure he’d spotted the woman Dean had been flirting with in the company of another guy). They found Cas and Steve out front, leaning against the Impala and looking up at the stars. They had darker beer bottles now, and Castiel was pointing out stars to Steve, who was hanging on his every word.

“There you are!” Dean greeted with false cheer. “Who’s your friend, Cas?”

“Dean, this is Steve. We were comparing the view of the Milky Way from here to the one in Australia.”

“Out in the Bush,” Steve added, immediately straightening and sizing Dean up. “I ran a high-endurance 24h hyper-run there last winter. Goes through the night.” He gave Dean a firm, salesman handshake and held direct eye contact. Dean grinned, dimples showing.

“Cas has a remarkable memory for detail,” Steve continued warmly, shooting Cas a little admiring smile.

“That he does,” Dean agreed, going from a grin to a full-toothed smile and clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Cas, who, as far as Sam had seen, had been enjoying himself but had also been essentially oblivious to Steve’s flirtations, was starting to look uncomfortable.

“I mentioned the Impala and Steve suggested we come see it,” he said, a little defensively.

“Yes. I’m not much for cars myself, but even I can tell it’s a real beauty.”

“Dean is a wonderful mechanic,” Cas said, brightening up. “He’s fixed my truck, and plenty of other cars. He can fix anything on wheels.”

Sam saw Steve’s face fall slightly.

“Interesting. So… wanna show me your truck?”

“Oh. I, hum, lost it.”

Before Steve could ask how exactly one ‘loses’ a truck, Dean plucked Cas’ beer out of his hand, took a swig, made a face, and handed it back. “Yeah, and we’re leaving, so… nice meeting you, Steve.”

“Dean, I’m-“

“I could give you a lift, if you wanna stay,” Steve tried urgently, reaching out a hand.

Castiel looked at the proffered hand and put his beer in it. “Thank you, but it’s better that you don’t drive me where we’re going. It’s supposed to stay a secret.”

“Oh god, let’s just go,” Sam groaned, by now embarrassed on behalf of all of them. “Sorry dude. Better luck next time.” He clapped Steve on the back and nudged him out of Dean’s way. Dean smirked at him again, before hopping into the driver’s seat and revving up the engine unnecessarily.

They left Steve standing alone in the middle of the parking lot, staring dejectedly after them and holding both his and Cas’ unfinished fancy beers.

Dean stopped suggesting bars after that.

Sam’s plan was to get up early for a jog, then a nice long shower before anyone was up and about, followed by one of Dean’s hot breakfasts.

Instead the moment he stepped out of his room he found a streak of symbols painted in blood all along the hallway, and several lightbulbs dead and blackened.

“DEAN!”

His brother staggered out of his room, instantly waking up as soon as he saw the bloody mess.

With a silent nod, they armed themselves and started sweeping the bunker noiselessly. They found Jack in the war room, sitting cross-legged on the table, looking mighty confused. Underneath him there was an intricately designed protective circle, also in blood.

“Castiel said to wait here for him. Can I get up now?” He pouted, bored.

“When was this?”

“About six hours ago? A little after you guys went to ‘sleep’. So lame.”

“Stay put,” Dean growled, making Jack roll his eyes but slumping back down obligingly.

They found more symbols on the front door, and in the kitchen. The ones outside the shooting range were fresher. Finally they reached the garage, where they found Cas slumped in front of the outside doors. They were covered with glistening runes, and the stink of blood was wafting around the entire room.

Cas was in his shirtsleeves, arms soaked in red from the elbows down. He was also about as white as Sam had ever seen him. Even his lips had absolutely no color to them.

Dean immediately put his gun away and ran to their friend’s side, hands going for the face as Cas blinked lethargically up at him. Sam held his guard until Cas spoke.

“You’re safe. I put the wards up in time.”

“Cas! What’s happening?”

He was still bleeding sluggishly from both forearms, slashed open lengthways with his own angel blade, which laid forgotten to the side. Dean and Sam took Cas’ tie and belt to make tourniquets.

Castiel looked at them blankly, clearly confused. “You’re safe,” he repeated, slowly. “The wards.”

“What about them?” Sam prompted, as they raised his arms above his head, trying to stop the bleeding.

But Cas just blinked hard again. “What?”

“You’re ok, we’re all ok,” Dean started babbling under his breath. He shot Sam a look, then left him there to try and keep Cas stable while he sprinted back into the bunker.

“Hi Sam,” Cas whispered.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam smiled at him, tensely.

“I think Dean is mad at me,” he said with a sigh.

“No, Cas, he’s just worried. We don’t like it when you get hurt, remember? We talked about this before.”

“I had to,” he bristled.

“I understand, but you could have at least asked for help. We’re right here.”

Castiel frowned. “But you are helping me. Why do I have to ask?”

Dean burst back into the garage, carrying their heavy-duty first aid kit and a couple of towels thrown over his shoulders.

“You have got to stop doing this, Cas. You’re going to give me a heart attack,” Dean chided as they each set to work on one of Cas’ arms.

“Sorry,” came the automatic reply, followed by a frown.

They poured disinfectant over the wounds, laid down the clean towels and his arms over them, and cracked open two suture kits they had pilfered from an ambulance at a crime scene a few weeks earlier.

“I’m an angel. I’ve done this countless times before, it’s a sound tactic. It achieves the result.”

“Shut up,” Dean growled. The brothers started stitching up simultaneously.

“Cas, remember when you told me I was precious to you? And that the price of losing me wasn’t worth anything?”

Dean shot him a funny look. Yeah, Sam hadn’t discussed this with his brother, because it was something between him and Cas. Also, he may have been rightfully pissed at Dean at the time. No matter now.

It was still one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to him.

“Well, you’re our friend, and you’re precious to us, too. Losing you isn’t worth it either, ok?”

Cas didn’t reply, he just looked equally touched and confused. Sam wasn’t sure he had gotten through to him, but at least he hoped it was a step in the right direction.

Dean looked chastened, even though Sam was dead sure his brother shared his sentiment, and had been saved the trouble of saying it out loud to boot.

Jack wandered in shortly after. “What’s that?”, he pointed to the sigil.

“A protective ward,” Cas replied tiredly.

“Why?”

“It hides us from anyone investigating that power surge from last night.”

“Wait, which power surge are we talking about here?”

Jack shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. One good thing about the nephilim was that he definitely hadn’t learned how to lie yet.

“Cas? Jack?” Dean continued, anger mounting.

“I thought I could take a peek into a parallel universe,” Jack admitted sheepishly. “Look for your mom and my dad. Huh, it didn’t work. Also, you need to buy some new lightbulbs.”

“Our mother is gone, and so is your dad, and good riddance to him!” Dean hissed. “Look at the mess you’ve made!”

“Dean,” Sam chided, just as Jack defensively claimed he was going to clean it all up.

“No, Sam, this is your fault too! You have got to let mom go. Stop putting ideas in his head. Look at what happened to Cas!”

“I make my own decisions,” Cas growled, instantly pissed.

“You died! Now you’ve nearly bled out!”

“It’s not my fault,” Jack cried. “That’s so unfair! I only wanted to help!”

“Stop helping, Jack. You only make things worse,” Dean spat savagely.

Jack went red in the face. Sam thought he was going to burst into tears and throw a tantrum, as usually happened when he got upset, but apparently this time his indignation took over because he stood his ground as tears and snot streamed down his face. “DO NOT!”

He lunged forward and took Castiel by the hands. There was a double, blinding flash of light, blue and gold, so intense that even though Sam had closed his eyes as soon as possible, he was still only seeing white for several long moments afterwards. His face, his hands, all his uncovered skin tingled as if he’d been standing in the sun all day.

He could hear and feel Castiel panting, still sitting between the two brothers.

“Cas?” Dean called, frightened.

“I… huh… huh…”

His eyesight finally came back. Castiel appeared healed, if a little windswept and wide-eyed. In fact, he looked like he’d just received an electric shot. He turned to look in turn at Sam and Dean, a big smile splitting his face in a way Sam couldn’t recall ever seeing.

He blinked, and Cas was gone. A gust of wind shot between the two brothers, and a rustle of feathers, a distinctive sound Sam hadn’t heard in years, echoed faintly.

They got up off the floor. Dean looked around, a little frantically, and called for Cas again. Sam went to Jack, who was still sniffling and hugging himself miserably.

Presently, heralded by a breeze that ruffled Sam’s hair, Castiel re-appeared.

“My wings! Dean, my wings! I can fly again! I never thought-“ he marched up to Jack, and took him gently by the shoulders. “Thank you,” he said with feeling, “but you must never do this again. The wards covered your magic, otherwise you’d have all of the remaining angels clamoring to get at you right now.”

“I don’t want to do it again,” Jack sniffled. He showed them the palms of his hands, blistered and badly burnt. “It hurt.”

“You won’t have to. I’ll make sure of it,” Castiel vowed.

“Cas,” Sam called hesitantly. “Are you-?”

“Whole,” he replied, still amazed. He reached out to the brothers. “Sam, would you like to visit the archives of the Louvre? Dean, would you like to have pie from your favorite place in Wisconsin, every day? I can do it for you, again. I can really be useful-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on!” Dean waved Cas’ hand down, and grabbed him by the elbow. “Don’t you go disappearing on us now, ok? That’s all I’m asking. Please, Cas. Just… stick around? And don’t attract attention from the other angels by flitting all over the place. You can still use the car I fixed up for you. It’s all gassed up and I got the tape deck working again… much better than angel taxi, any day.”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas said quietly. The angel and his brother shared a long look.

Sam cleared his throat.

“When do I get my wings?” Jack demanded suddenly.

“Nephilim don’t have wings,” Cas relied apologetically.

“That sucks! Why is my life so unfair?”

“Shut up,” said Dean.

“I’m sorry,” said Castiel.

Sam just sighed. He could empathize with that sentiment, however misplaced.

“Where’s Cas?”

Dean paused from his meticulous gun polishing session and slowly turned to look at Sam.

“What do you mean ‘where’s Cas’? I thought the two of you were busy teaching Jack how to shoot. Like that kid needs to be any more deadly…”

“No, his hands still ache, so he got himself a book and holed up in his room. I just went by and he’s listening to blues at full volume. Dean, where did he get blues music?”

“There’s a whole collection of vinyls left from the fifties, I told you a bunch of times. At least the Men of Letters weren’t into heavy metal. What about Cas?”

“He said he was going to get something for Jack’s hands, but I haven’t seen him since. This was this morning.”

“Great,” Dean threw down the rag he was using and pulled out his phone. “And his phone’s off. Or out of range. Just peachy.” Without wasting time, he pulled up a geo-tracking app.

“Maybe he’s flying. He seems to have really missed it,” Sam suggested.

“Or maybe he took his car out for a joyride to… the fucking hospital? What the fuck is he doing at the county hospital? And why not Lebanon General?”

“That’s what? Two hours away? Without traffic?”

Dean didn’t pay him any attention. He quickly dialed the hospital, and asked about a James Novak or a John Doe. There was no one on file matching Castiel’s description either in the ER or the morgue, but the receptionist admitted they were having issues with their network, and there were several people still being processed.

“Goddamit,” Dean slammed his fist on the table, seethed for a moment, then pulled a tazer out of the nearest weapons bag and headed down the hallway, brandishing it.

“Dean!”

His brother marched up to Jack’s door and pounded on it. They could hear a throaty female voice crooning about being hard done by a man and somebody stomping around. Finally Jack opened his door a sliver and peek out suspiciously.

“Listen up, Jack. Me and Sam have to go out. Cas is not here, so we’re leaving you alone and in charge of the bunker like a big boy.”

“We are?”

“I’m an adult!” Jack complained.

“You’re not even a year old, Jack,” Sam interjected.

“We’ll be back by tomorrow morning. In the meantime we’re trusting you to hold down the fort, ok? You lock yourself in, don’t go out, and if somebody tries to come in, you taze them.”

He shoved the weapon at Jack, who cradled it in his arms, trying not to use his palms. Dean gently guided his fingers so he could aim and press the trigger, albeit gingerly.

Jack brightened up considerably. “Supermurgitroid!”

Dean squinted at him suspiciously. “Did you get into my collection of vintage ‘Busty Asian Beauties’ again?”

Caught like a deer in the proverbial headlights, Jack didn’t deny nor confirm. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and took a calming breath. “There’s cans of Spaghetti-Os in the pantry, and a full tub of ice-cream in the freezer. If you finish it you will be sick and I will know. Above all, don’t use your powers while you’re alone. Got that?”

“Yeah, whatever. I could come with you,” Jack said petulantly.

“It’s just research, Jack, and lots of driving. It’s going to be pretty boring,” Sam soothed. “And, I suspect, very unnecessary,” he shot a look at Dean, who ignored him.

“Can we count on you to keep the bunker safe?”

Jack preened.

This is a bad idea, Sam thought.

Twenty minutes later they were loading the Impala in the garage, Jack observing them excitedly.

“We’ll be back by morning,” Sam told him.

“Tomorrow evening at most,” Dean added. “Certainly no more than two days. We’ll call you if we’re late.”

“Wait… you might be gone longer than that? Where’s Castiel?”

Dean slammed the trunk closed. Jack was looking at him anxiously now. “He’s coming back with us, don’t worry.”

Over the years Sam had endured Dean’s ‘creative driving’ too many times to count. Hell, he’d engaged in it himself more often than he’d care to admit. Recklessness and putting lives on the line was always part and parcel of the job, and sometimes staying in your lane in heavy traffic could quite literally make the body count soar, more immediately than any potential pile up.

But that, Sam felt, was for emergencies. Castiel going quiet for half a day?

“Dude might just want some space, Dean.”

“Shut up.”

“And, he can take care of himself.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that.”

Dean slammed a cassette tape into the deck, and cranked the volume as high as it would go. Led Zep blared out of the speakers as the car, impossibly, squeezed between a truck and a minivan.

Sam braced himself in his seat as best as he could, aided by long practice, and indulged in a sulk. Why Dean had seen fit to drag him out like this didn’t matter much anymore; they were going, and that was the end of it.

Cas, if you’re just minding your own business, heads up ‘cause we’re about to barrel right into it, Sam prayed. Learn to tell Dean when you’re leaving, ok? That’s all I’m asking.

They made it to the county hospital, unsurprisingly, in record time. They probably racked in a whole box-worth of speeding tickets, but their license plate wasn’t exactly tied to their real address. Or their real names.

Anyway.

Cas’s car was still on the premises. After driving around a little, they located it in the underground visitors’ parking lot, looking perfectly normal.

Dean had managed to descend into the cold rage Sam had witnessed time and again in the weeks between Cas’ latest death and resurrection. He methodically parked next to Cas’ car and strode purposefully, stone faced, to the morgue, where he breezed right in on the strength of an FBI badge and attitude, even though they weren’t wearing suits. He checked for himself all the corpses stored there, and when they didn’t find Cas, he swore under his breath and headed to the ER. Sam checked out the three cafeterias and the burn unit, thinking perhaps Cas had been seeking advice for Jack’s hands.

But he was nowhere to be found. Sam, despite himself, was starting to let Dean’s mood, which was edging out of anger and into anxiety, affect him.

“We’re sweeping the building. Meet me on the roof, we’ll work our way down.”

They found a bunch of smokers up top, oddly enough all clustered together. A group of health and admin workers, all listening intently to a woman in scrubs who kept pointing to the helicopter parked not far from them.

“And I’m telling you, I felt like this presence. Just as we were taking off. Only for a moment. And I thought ‘that’s your third shift talking, girl’, and I completely pushed it out of my mind.”

“But then the kid pulls through, and now you’re a believer?” a person in a suit, puffing on an electronic pipe, asked.

“Perhaps the tests at Lebanon General got mixed up,” interjected one with a lab coat.

“No, no, the heart defect had been detected in the first trimester. They had a C-section and surgery all lined up already, but the mother went into premature labor. I’m telling you, I thought the lungs were going to be impossible even before the heart got into it. I hate those situations.”

“Well, that’s NICU for you,” sympathized another one in scrubs. “So the lungs are holding? They’re not a problem?”

“Nothing is the problem! Echo, stats: healthiest premature baby I’ve ever held! I’m telling you, it’s like a brand new child! Back before we got here it was touch and go, and now the mother is nursing. Solve me that.”

The brothers shared a look, and headed back inside.

“Changeling?”

“Do changelings read as normal healthy human babies in medical exams?”

“I have no idea. I doubt there’s many cases in the literature. Demon deal?”

“Could be.” Dean took out his phone, then thought better of it. “Damn it.”

Sam glanced at him, bemused. “Yeah, Crowley was useful in that respect, wasn’t he?”

Dean shook his head, scowling. “I keep forgetting-“

“So you think Cas found a case?”

“We can ask him when we find him. You know, ‘presence’ could mean ghost.”

“A healing ghost?”

They fell silent as they passed a few civilians in the hallway.

“Or witchcraft could do it.”

They found the NICU unit, which was predictably locked down, with rigorous admittance policies. They could spy an open floor plan inside, and relatively few people. No way to go in unnoticed. If Cas was there he had to be invisible. Dean prayed under his breath, but nothing happened.

“We either camp here and wait for the parents to come out, or we gotta find some scrubs and get in there.”

They drifted back down the hall, looking for supply closets. They rounded a corner. Toilets to one side, and one lone door opposite them. As they headed towards it, the door opened and Castiel stepped out.

He carefully closed the door behind him, holding on to the doorknob, and regarded them silently.

“The hell?” Dean strode right up to him and jammed his finger straight into the angel’s sternum. “Where have you been? And why the hell with the radio silence?”

“My phone is dead,” Cas grunted. “We need to get out of here before security sees me. Help me get to my car.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa: slow down, Cas. What’s happening?”

“I’ll explain on the way. Now, will you help me or not?” he growled impatiently. He was drenched in sweat, his hair in a state of disarray that the brothers had long taught him was considered ‘unprofessional’ and would get him noticed. His eyes were red-rimmed and feverishly bright and, as they stood there glaring at one-another, Cas started shaking with the effort of holding on to the doorknob.

“What’s in there?”

“Nothing of import. Can we get going?”

Dean pried Cas’ hand off the door and opened it. It turned out to be a well-stocked supply closet, but otherwise empty. On the back of the door, low to the ground, was an angel-banishing sigil, ready to be activated.

“Cas…” Sam started, but before he could continue, Cas gave a sigh and slid down the wall to the floor in a sort of semi-controlled fall, completely exhausted.

“-are you under attack?”

“No. It was my contingency plan in case I were discovered before I could regain my strength and escape. I’m glad I didn’t have to use it. Or, I won’t if you two’ll help me get out of here.”

“All right, all right, we get the message,” Dean started to sound less pissed and more concerned. He offered Cas a hand up, but Cas shook his head.

“I can’t walk,” he admitted sheepishly. “I used the last of my reserves to listen for your approach and step out to meet you.”

“On it.” Sam walked back down the hall, and headed away from the NICU towards Obstetrics. He tailed a couple who were going in, one in a wheelchair and puffing like a champ while her partner was low-key freaking out, up to a room. In the chaos of relocating the woman to the bed while she battled an oncoming contraction, Sam absconded with the wheelchair.

When he made it back he found that Dean had dragged Cas inside the washroom and was trying to make him look more presentable while he held him propped up to the counter one-handed.

Cas thanked Sam and sank gratefully in the chair, nearly passing out with the relief. They hit the nearest elevator and headed straight for the underground parking lot.

In fits and starts, Cas came out with the whole story. How he was initially simply headed to Lebanon General for some hospital-grade burn lotion, and how once there he had heard the desperate prayer of a mother about to lose her baby. How he had tried to board the helicopter mid-flight, but found it too crowded and had to resort to follow with the car. How even that brief flight, paired with the healing he had performed once he had arrived, had wiped him out, to the point that he had become suddenly visible in the middle of the NICU.

“I wiped the memories of all those present- also an effort. But there’s security cameras, and I’m almost certain someone saw me.”

“Almost certain?”

“I think I heard a prayer… I’m not sure. By that point I was finding it difficult concentrating on anything. My priority was hiding until I could make it back on my own. I figured I needed about two days to recuperate, provided I didn’t have to use my Grace for anything else. Then you came.”

“You had the car.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t leave it: you gave it to me, Dean. But I couldn’t- I can’t drive yet.”

They headed to the Impala, which was parked in a less conspicuous spot.

“And you let your phone die while on a hunt? That’s a rookie mistake, Cas.”

“I wasn’t on a hunt. And it got fried when Jack gave me back my wings, I just… haven’t had the time to replace it yet.”

Per Dean’s insistence, they loaded Cas shotgun in the Impala. Sam made an executive decision and asked for Cas’ keys.

He was glad Cas was going to be all right and that he’d had, all things considered, something positive to call a win in his bag; he wasn’t even annoyed any longer that they’d driven through three counties to pick him up. But Dean was still a bundle of raw nerves, and frankly Castiel had brought it upon himself.

As far as Sam was concerned, it was practical and made tactical sense for him to take the other car, while the two of them could hash it out in the Impala.

Dean agreed immediately, and peeled out of the lot before Cas could offer his opinion on the matter. Sam shook his head and headed for the other vehicle, planning a leisurely drive back.

Dean texted him that he was taking the back road and avoiding the highway. On a whim, Sam followed his brother’s route, albeit at what he imagined was going to be a much slower pace.

After about an hour’s drive, on a stretch of deserted road cutting through a tall, dark fir forest, Sam saw the familiar shape of the Impala stopped to the side, at an angle.

Sam stopped at a safe distance. He took his gun and his angel blade, and stealthily stepped towards the black car. There were fresh skid marks on the road- Dean had hit the brakes and wrenched the car to the side, while doing considerable speed.

He could see Cas’ head, still in the passenger seat, leaning against the window, and what had to be Dean with his hands and his forehead resting on the steering wheel. There were hints of movement from both of them, so they weren’t dead, at least.

As Sam reached the tail of the car he heard the unmistakable sound of a deep, gut-wrenching sob.

He approached on the driver’s side, lowering his weapons, and peeked in the back windows. Cas silently met his eyes with a worried, anguished expression, but he was entirely dried eyed.

Dean was crying. Dean was ugly crying, his entire frame shaking with sob after sob that he was trying to muffle with his arms. He was so caught up in it that he hadn’t even noticed Sam.

Cas gave him a wordless, minute head-shake. Sam retreated. He took the car again, drove it to the front of the Impala, and then approached on foot in full view.

Dean stepped out of the Impala and tossed the keys at Sam.

“You drive her,” he growled. He hadn’t really succeeded in composing himself, red-faced and covered in snot as he was, but Sam didn’t call him on it. “I can’t. I just-“ He stopped himself from looking back at Castiel, squeezed his eyes while he shook his head and stormed to the other car. He peeled away the moment he was sitting in it.

Sam got in the Impala. Castiel, still looking like death warmed over, audibly worked his throat.

“I never mean to cause distress to your brother. Or to you, for that matter. And yet it seems that’s all I’ve been doing, lately.”

Sam sighed. So much for letting them hash it out on their own. He started the car, and started driving again himself.

“This was a long time coming, Cas, trust me. And it’ll be better for Dean, in the long run. We tend to bottle up everything, even if we know we shouldn’t… it’s an ingrained habit. And that’s not your fault. But you do need to understand that we care about you, and that means we worry when we don’t know for sure that you’re all right. We lead dangerous lives. We don’t have the luxury of hearing your prayers to know that you’re still alive and kicking.”

“Yes… Dean said something similar. I suppose I forget.”

“Forget?”

“I consider you my family, my kin. But I forget that you’re not like my brothers, you’re not angels. You’re human. I mean, I know you’re human, but sometimes I just-“ he sighed, a desolate, lonely sound.

Neither of them spoke any further for the rest of the drive back.

When they reached the bunker’s garage they found Cas’ car already neatly parked in its usual spot. Jack came to greet them, in a really good mood, bouncing up and offering to help with unloading the car. Sam took his own duffel, and Cas declined a power-up, since Jack’s hands were still unhealed.

Sam was helping Castiel out of the car, assisted by Jack, when Dean appeared at the far door, looking somber and serious. He locked eyes with Sam and gave him a look that made Sam excuse himself immediately to go talk to his brother.

Jack was only too happy to make himself useful and escort Cas back into the bunker’s domestic quarters. He peppered Castiel with questions that the angel diligently, if tiredly, answered. As their chatter died off in the background, Sam asked Dean what was up.

“We have a problem,” Dean answered grimly.

“Well, you know what Cas is like,” Sam tried.

“What? No, shut up,” Dean said a little too quickly, especially for someone whose voice still sounded wreaked from crying. “It’s Jack. Know what he gave me when I got back?”

He held out the tazer, and Sam took it. It looked perfectly normal and unused.

“Open it,” Dean instructed.

“It doesn’t-“ Sam protested, but Dean took it back and pulled on the barrel, which came right off.

“It’s… not supposed to do that, is it?”

“Nope. And check this out,” Dean showed him the inside: the wires were soldered solid, melted into an unusable mess.

“What did Jack say about it?”

“Nothing. I asked if there was any trouble while we were away, and he said, and I quote, ‘nope daddy-oh, everything cool’.”

“That’s…”

“A lie. A weirdly-phrased human-mimicking lie from an impossibly powerful supernatural creature. Remind you of anyone?”

Sam clicked his throat. He immediately thought of a white suit, an affected twang, and a Colonel Sanders-type mustache.

“I don’t believe it. How is he even getting to Jack? We’re warded! Cas warded us tighter than anything!”

At the mention of Cas, Dean gave a shaky breath. “I dunno, man. Old Yellow Eyes and Lucifer both got to you despite our best efforts. I wouldn’t be surprised if knock-off fast-food snake-oil salesman got his fucking hands on him somehow.” Frustration mounting, Dean mimed strangling someone. “Fucking… Fuckhands McMike.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Ok, there, let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe Jack was just playing with the tazer and he broke it. As for the slang, that’s not even Southern. You said it yourself, he’s been looking through your sixties skin mags… apparently he actually reads them.”

“Yeah, sideways,” Dean huffed, unconvinced. He passed a hand over his face, taking a quick look around to make sure they were still alone. “I don’t trust him. And I especially don’t trust him to stay safe. He’s angel enough to get into serious trouble on his own without telling us a goddamn thing. We need to keep a closer eye on him.”

Sam bit back a ‘are we still talking about Jack’ retort since he essentially agreed with Dean and he didn’t want the discussion derailed. Luckily he had just the thing.

“So you know how the Brits bugged the entire bunker,” he asked, taking out his phone and opening a password-protected app.

Dean’s lip curled, but he nodded.

“Before torching their place last June I did a little harvesting. I mean, the idea of remotely checking what was happening inside here seemed-“

“Creepy? Invasive?”

The phone emitted only static as Sam cycled through a list of rooms.

“Useful.”

“Wait… which rooms did you bug exactly?”

Sam pretended not to have heard him. Truth be told, there had been more than one instance in the past few months where he’d been grateful he could check up on his brother at a moment’s notice. He hadn’t mentioned it to Dean because… well, because.

With a final burst of static, the kitchen came through, loud albeit not entirely clear.

“-cannot help you there. I’ve recently discovered I understand even less about human emotions than I previously thought.”

Dean tensed next to him and looked away, but didn’t move.

Jack piped up over the feed. “You mean how Dean was upset when he came back and he didn’t want to say why?”

“No, I know why. Or at least, he told me. But I still have trouble understanding the scope of human feelings. As angels we either feel nothing, or a single, all-encompassing emotion. This mixture that Sam and Dean, and even you, have, it’s… confounding.”

There was the clinking of cutlery on ceramic for a bit, then “but it’s not that. I understand what their feelings are. Sam is curious, and he says he wants to spend time with me, but I don’t think he actually likes me. And Dean avoids me a lot, and he’s tried to kill me in the beginning, but now he makes sure I’m taken care of, so maybe he doesn’t want to, but he likes me. A bit. And they’re both scared of me. You’re the only one I’m sure cares for me and likes me and isn’t afraid of it.”

“…you’ve come up with all of this on your own?”

“Atta boy, Cas,” Dean whispered.

But Jack didn’t admit to any supernatural tampering with his thoughts. He carried on, blithely candid. “I just want them to be more like you. Or maybe I should just be more like you, they like you a great deal.”

“We share a long history, Jack. I fought by their side for a lot longer than what you’ve known them for before they even conceived of me as an ally. I’m sure you can earn the same respect, it just takes time.”

“You think so?” Jack sounded really hopeful. “I mean, when you were dead they really missed you. Dean especially. I thought that was just the way he was, but then I brought you back and he changed completely. He hasn’t even talked about killing me once since that. Maybe you don’t see it because when you’re with him he’s at his best, but when you’re away he’s really down.”

“You shouldn’t eat all of that ice-cream. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“Oh, come on!” Dean interjected, looking at Sam for support. Sam shushed him.

But Jack had taken the hint, and changed the subject. “They hurt, don’t they? Your wings.”

The brothers shared a look. That wasn’t something either of them had noticed.

“No, I wouldn’t say that. Not physically. Not in any way a human could feel. It’s a uniquely angelic feeling. Metaphysical. I can’t sustain them, you see. I don’t have enough Grace left, and what little there is, I have to stretch to the point of tearing to unfurl them and take flight.”

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t do it, then.”

“It’s not your fault. And I only do it when necessary, certainly not for pleasure. I’ve learned to appreciate the slow pace of human transportation, the lull of a soundtrack, and companionship when travelling. You can’t have that on huh, angel taxi.”

Despite the subject, Sam could hear a smile in his voice. He tried to make eye contact with Dean again, but his brother avoided him studiously.

“I think I know what you mean. Like the fact that no one likes me. And that I’m the only one of my kind. Sometimes I think about it, and then I think about my mom and… it hurts. Not like my hands, but it still hurts.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re alone. Though, I’ll grant you, feelings are maddingly complicated.”

“I wish I couldn’t feel a thing.”

“It’s a sentiment I’m familiar with. But that would be casting away your human heritage. A human heart is what your mother left you.”

“It’s easy for you to say! You’re an angel!”

“Barely. It’s true that Grace mutes my feelings, and perhaps my understanding of others’… but I do feel. And if I could choose, believe me I’d take human emotion over the cold and uncaring distance of Heaven.”

“Why don’t you just get rid of your Grace, then?”

“I can’t. I’m needed, my powers are needed. I prefer being useful to the Winchesters, and to humans in general. And I have to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection. I can protect myself, and I could even protect the Winchesters for you!”

“I’m sure you could, Jack, but-“

“Yes I can! I didn’t tell Dean because I don’t want him to worry, but an angel got in while you were away. He attacked me and I vaporized him! All by myself!”

The brothers shared a grim look and started moving towards the kitchen.

“’Cause see? I’m a half-breed and you’re… huh that angel called us a lot of nasty things, I don’t want to repeat them. Anyway, we can pick sides, and you can be the human, and I can be the angel and protect everyone!”

“Jack, what are you-“

The static overwhelmed the line, and then abruptly cut off. Sam and Dean sprinted off. Sam could feel the inaudible waves of angel shrieking making his teeth vibrate in his skull. As they rounded the corner at full speed, they saw light pouring out of the kitchen door. Squinting, they pushed forward, calling both Cas and Jack at the top of their lungs.

Inside the room they found Jack standing over Cas, yellow eyes alight and holding in his hands strand upon strand of angelic Grace, shiny and finely spun like blue gossamer. The filaments still connected to Cas’ eyes and mouth, which were alight with his true form. The Grace was unraveling in Jack’s hands, who looked up in horror at the brothers, frozen on the spot.

With a pained cry, Cas materialized his blade and cut the filaments in one stroke. The light on his part dissolved, while the one in Jack’s hands pulsed once and then began to rot, turning dark and gooey like Leviathan ichor. Jack, panicking, tried to drop it, but it permeated his damaged hands, and then disappeared under his skin. Unlike other times, the light in his eyes wasn’t fading.

Dean went immediately to Cas, supporting him and checking him out, leaving Sam, once again, to deal with the larger concerns.

With his hands raised, and trying not to spook him, he approached the Nephilim, now cowering in front of the sink. “Jack? What did you do?”

“That was bad,” Jack whispered, aghast. “I had no idea-“ he looked up then, eyes blazing. “You wanted to do that to me before I was even born! Did you know that’s what removing Grace is like?? Do you even care?”

“It’s different! A different process! I went through it myself-“

“You’ve never cared!” Jack accused with a wail. “Nobody cares about me! You all hate me! My mom is dead! My dad is gone!”

“Join the fucking club, kid!” Dean yelled, still crouching over Cas, who wasn’t entirely conscious.

“No!” Jack retorted, releasing one of his energy waves, knocking Sam on his ass. “I don’t have to! You can’t make me! And if you want me gone, then fine! I know where there’s someone who wants me and who can understand me!”

With a burst of energy that made his nose bleed, Jack opened a rift, identical to the one of the day of his birth.

Sam called him one last time, and Jack spared a moment to look back at him. Instead of a terrifying super-powered abomination, he looked like a lonely, lost boy who didn’t belong anywhere. “I’ve got to find my dad,” he declared, just as he touched the portal and disappeared.

Sam cautiously approached the rift. Following Jack blind wasn’t a good idea, but they couldn’t let him get too far or they’d lose him.

“Don’t,” said Cas, getting up with Dean’s assistance. “That’s a hellmouth. We need to find a way to ward it before anything on the other side discovers it.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“Meaning,” said Dean, picking up Castiel’s blade and flipping it to hand it back hilt-first, “that we’re calling in the reinforcements, we’re getting Jack back, and we’re saving the world.�� He took out his cell and placed a call. “Jody? We’ve got work to do.”

#spn fic #SPN #supernatural s12e23 #supernatural s13e01 #speculation through fic #destiel #Sam Winchester #Castiel #dean winchester #jack the nephilim #My fic

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gettinziggywithit · 7 years

Text

Getting To Know You: Part 4

Diana’s journey to find Papyrus isn’t going to be as easy as she thought.

The monster side wasn't the best place to be wandering around for a human. It wasn't that it was necessarily derelict or run down, it was the inhabitants that were wary of their human neighbors to be worried about. The monsters lived in an older section of town that was near the base of the mountain they emerged from. Tensions were still high and very few made the attempt to come forward and try to make friends. Diana was open to their new neighbors, even if they weren't as open to her. She had run into several monsters while she walked to the firehouse for her shift since it was located right on the border. Most ignored her, some hissed and yelled at her from the safety of their side, others...others just watched. She had heard the legends of the great Human-Monster war and when the monsters lost, they were banished beneath the mountain for hundreds of years. Diana couldn't even begin to contemplate what that did to a monster's mind given that they lived for so long, but she understood the hesitance and hostility they had.

She wouldn't fault them for it, nor would she fear them. She towered over many of the monsters, and most humans, at her 6 foot 3 height. So if any monster went for intimidation, they would have to crane their necks up and try awful hard to instill fear. She didn't want that though, most monsters fascinated her and she secretly wished that she could build a friendship with one just as easily as [Y/N] did. But, she knew with them being so new on the surface, it would probably take some time to even be able to speak cordially with one another without fearing the other snapping and attacking. Diana shrugged as she walked past the firehouse and then took her first steps into Monster Territory. You could almost feel the change in the air from one side of the street to the other, although magic was made illegal by the local town government, once you stepped across the line, you could feel it in every cell in your body. There wasn't a soul in sight, but that didn't mean she was alone. She kept calm and walked normally, but with purpose. Any ounce of fear or hesitation would make you a target of harassment.

Grillby's bar was located just a couple blocks down in an old grocery store. Some friends of hers had gone down to the widely talked about bar and left shortly after, saying that their presence was not welcomed. "-sigh-, the things I do for you, [Y/N]. You are so going to owe me big after this." The bright purple neon sign soon came into view and 'Grillby's' was spelled out in curvy, cursive font and as it blinked, it almost felt like a warning. She paused and took a breath before opening the door and proceeding in. The bar instantly stilled as every patron ceased their actions and stared at her. There were a group of guard dogs clad in black armor that glared, but made no movement towards her. The various creatures that littered the tables and booths simply glared, no one saying a word. Diana walked past, straight to the bar in the back. She could still feel the gazes on her back, but eventually the normal noises of a bar took back over and they went about their business. On the side was an old fashioned jukebox, playing music she had never heard before, but strangely enjoyed.

She picked a stool off to the side and sat down, fishing a couple bills out of her pocket. The bartender was busy tending to the patrons on the other side so she reached into her pocket and fished out her cigarettes. She knew [Y/N] would freak if she knew of her habit, but hey she could blame it on the bar if she asked questions. Picking a slim one out of the carton, she went for the lighter and flicked it once, twice, then growled when it failed to light. "May I?", a voice purred from in front of her. Diana looked up and then went wide eyed, a purple flame monster stood before her in a black leather jacket with a plush white fur collar trim. The cigarette nearly fell out of her mouth as he extended his hand and the flames from his index finger danced on the end, lighting it. Diana quickly took a drag, letting the flame catch and breathed in the menthol filled smoke. She took the cigarette out and flicked the ashes in the ashtray in front of her, "thanks..uh...." "Grillby," he finished for her, "You're the first human to come into my bar and make it all the way to the back. Impressive." His mouth didn't actually move when he spoke, but the flames would split open every so often and reveal a jagged mouth of sorts, filled with sharp "teeth", and he seemed to smile back to her. Eerie, but kind of awesome.

He picked up a bottle of something she didn't recognize and poured it into a shot glass, "I suppose that earns you a shot on the house as my first Human customer." The way he phrased human made her wary. He was being a gentleman, but something didn't sit right with her. The shot of whatever it was glimmered in the light of his flames, the color seeming to change and shift. Ah, so this was the famed monster liquor. Some said one shot was enough to have you black out drunk for the rest of the night. Diana stared at the shot glass, her tolerance was rather high so this should be interesting. She picked the shot up and held it up, made a mental wish and tapped it down on the bar before knocking it back in one gulp. The taste and sensation was instantaneous as a warmth spread through her and tingles coursed through her nerves. It was almost like an orgasm without the work or mess and as she came down from the high, she opened her eyes and dozily smiled at the clearly taken aback bartender and flipped then slammed the shot glass down. "Some guys can't take the heat." she replied, winking playfully as she took a drag of her cigarette and let the smoke expel through her nose She decided she'd have another one and grabbed another bill, "but flames don't scare me." Grillby's surprise turned into a carnal smile as he produced another shot glass and filled it, clearly ready to see how much this human could take...

If the look on Grillby's face was any inclination, then he was more than flabbergasted at how this one human managed to go through nearly two bottles of his strongest liquor within the past hour or so. She barely looked bothered by it, but her face had flushed and she broke into random laughter more than once. Several cigarettes had come and gone, lit from his different fingers and once even from atop his head. Ok, so maybe Diana was a little tipsy, but she still had both feet firmly on the ground...they were just a little wobbly. She finally cut herself off after nearly giving her entire paycheck to the flaming bartender. Oh well, after the hangover she'd be sporting in the morning, maybe it was best to get her liquor needs out of her system and avoid it the next month. Several monsters had taken notice to her and Grillby's game and started placing bets on when the human would drop first. Many were losing.

Diana took a moment to center herself, who was she supposed to be finding again? Damn it, it was important! What was the name, Paper, Pasta, Pa-Papyrus! Grillby had left her alone to soak it all in while he grumbled and dealt with the other bar patrons, obviously sore about losing so much liquor to a Human. "H-hey, Grillby!" She beckoned him closer to try and not attract any more attention. A few monsters had obviously grew comfortable and began to sit at the bar and she felt this was a private matter. "What do you want, Human? To steal more of my business and liquor?" Yep, as the flames danced and flickered on his head, she could tell he was a bit irritated. Sighing, she dug into her wallet and pulled out her last twenty, pushing it in his general direction.

"Where do I find Papyrus?"

He stiffened and narrowed his eyes, but didn't answer her and snagged the money she placed and went to the other side of the bar. Well shit, now she was out of cash and nowhere near to finding an answer. She pressed again, "look, I just need to know where he is and I'll be out of your way, I think I've paid my fair share to get a yes or no from you." Grillby continued to pour drinks for the others and as she looked around, monsters had started to stare again and whispered among them. She needed to keep her guard up and get out of there as soon as possible. He ignored her and began washing dirtied glasses, meanwhile monsters were starting to close in and she got the feeling she should go before it got any more dangerous. Even if a human was stronger than a monster, it wasn't a fair fight with a group of them up against her. When a group of guard dogs started quarreling near the front, the door suddenly came crashing open. A tall, scowling skeleton strode in and anywhere his gaze landed, the monsters quickly moved and got out of his sight. Diana fully turned around in her seat and made eye contact with the aggressive looking skeleton. When she kept contact, he immediately started towards her.

She could feel Grillby's heat behind her as he leaned close and whispered, "You do not find Papyrus, Human."

The skeleton drew closer, his expression growing angrier with every step.

"He will find you."

"HUMAN, JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING HERE?!"

The skeleton stomped right up to her seat and glared down at her, large arms crossed, and the ever present scowl on his face. If that was meant to intimidate, it wasn't working, especially in her fogged up mind, she found it rather amusing. She thought she would be meeting with a small skeleton like sans, but this one, this was a big dude! She could hear Grillby chuckling behind her and rather be talked down to like she wasn't worth anything, she slowly rose to her feet. Clearly Papyrus was not used to anyone, let alone a human female, to nearly stand head to head with him. She may have been a couple of inches shorter, but she glared right back into his sockets with a mixture of liquid courage and probably human stupidity.

"Looking for you! I assume you are Papyrus?" He scoffed and jabbed a gloved finger at her, "HA! WHAT BUSINESS DOES A HUMAN HAVE WITH THE TERRIBLE AND POWERFUL PAPYRUS?!" Oh, his voice was already grating on her ears, but she had to get him back to the apartment. Gently, but firmly, she pushed the finger out of her face, "Well, for starters, my name isn't 'Human', it's Diana. Miss Diana if you're nasty." Somewhere in her buzzed head, she was proud of that line. Papyrus' sockets rapidly blinked before he glowered, the red eye lights blazing. "MISS DIANA, HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO THE LIEUTENANT OF THE ROYAL GUARD IN SUCH A MANNER." Grillby had appeared behind her again, "She has been taking my business away by being here. Remove her." Diana was quick to turn, her expression one of outrage, "TAKING AWAY YOUR BUSINESS?! I HAVE SAT FOR THE PAST TWO HOURS GIVING YOU THE ENTIRE CONTENTS OF MY PAYCHECK, DRINKING YOUR LIQUOR-WHICH, BY THE WAY, IS HORRIBLE...AND I EVEN TIPPED YOUR FLAMING ASS."

Grillby suddenly reared back, the color of his flames on his face lightened in color as she continued to yell, her spit flying off and hitting him causing it to sizzle. "JOHNNIE WALKER, JACK DANIELS, GOOD OLE FIREBALL. WE'RE TALKING REAL LIQUOR THAT WOULD GIVE YOUR FLAMES A RUN FOR THEIR MONEY. LOOK 'EM UP." Grillby merely nodded before Diana flipped back around, jabbing a finger into Papyrus' chest plate, "AND YOU, MR. TERRIBLE AND POWERFUL, ARE COMING WITH ME." Diana wobbled a couple steps past him, yanking on the tattered scarf, pulling the skeleton off balance and dragging him to the door. Papyrus' arms were wildly flailing, trying to keep his balance, but also wretch himself away from the human female. He was eventually dragged out the bar and the entire bar was left stunned. Some turned to stare at the bewildered bartender when the door opened again, "AND ANOTHER THING: THE MUSIC IS GOOD. KEEP THAT SHIT GOING." Diana held two fingers up to her eyes and then pointed them to Grillby and back several times before letting the door close with the shrieks of the now captured and raging Papyrus being the last thing that was heard.

Diana had not gotten two blocks down the way before Papyrus finally jerked from her grip, "YOU...YOU...HOW DARE YOU?! I WILL NOT BE TREATED LIKE SOME KIND OF DOG!" Diana wasn't having it, "YOU SURE WHINE LIKE ONE!" Oh the look she received after that remark was one of murder. "OH SURE, ANYONE ELSE GROVELS AT YOUR FEET WITH JUST A GLARE, BUT THAT AIN'T GONNA WORK ON ME. YOU GET THE SAME RESPECT YOU TREAT OTHERS WITH, SO THEREFORE, YOU GET DIANA THE BITCH. TREMBLE BENEATH ME or whatever." Diana huffed and puffed, trying to catch her breath. Papyrus was staring at her, eyes wide, his jaw opened and then closed, clearly dumbfounded. He had come across many humans while Underground, some that took their deaths like cowards, others that defiantly stood up and perished beneath him even as they trembled in fear, but this human, she had not one ounce of fear in her eyes as she stared him down and met him tit for tat. How interesting. Diana was glad for the moment's piece and pinched the bridge of her nose to try and counteract the rapidly growing headache she was getting. "OK! I'm going to be calm from now on and I expect the same from you. I don't want any trouble, no bullshit, no nothing. I came here looking for you because I have new regarding your brother." Papyrus was definitely paying attention now, "WHAT NEWS DO YOU HAVE OF MY LAZY BROTHER, MISS DIANA? DO NOT KEEP ME WAITING."

He stared as she thought about how to word it best, "Alright, now you and I are going to have an agreement right here, right now. Before anything is spoken, you WILL NOT go postal here, you will not go postal at the apartment. You will be calm as you are right now, got it? If not, just know, as a licensed emergency responder, I know EXACTLY where your week spots are, monster or not, I know how a spinal cord works and how EASY it would be jack up!" Papyrus was stunned for a second time and Diana took that as him understanding and went on, "Great! OK, so sans is currently at mine and my roommate, [Y/N]'s apartment..." Wait a minute, he recognized the name of the other person as someone sans spoke about, something about her being his only loyal customer..." Papyrus' mind wandered, why was he at their apartment? Was he slacking off yet again? Papyrus frowned, when would he learn?! "Hey, HEY! Stick with me, Papyrus!" Diana snapped her fingers in front of his face and he slapped it away. "Like I said, the injuries he sustained were pretty bad, but we were able to patch him up and-" "INJURIES?! WHY IS HE INJURED?!" Papyrus thundered at the word, 'injuries' and instantly a large sharpened bone manifested in his right hand. "Woah, woah there, Conan the Bonebarian! What did I just say?! Sans is at the apartment healing up after he was attacked by a group of men while he was working his job." Papyrus wasn't really listening anymore, "WHAT ARE WE STANDING HERE FOR, MISS DIANA. I WILL SEE MY BROTHER THIS INSTANT."

He started off in the general direction while Diana rolled her eyes and caught up to him, grabbing onto his scarf, much to his dismay and leading him towards the apartment, with his screams echoing throughout the neighborhood.

Forget owing her once, [Y/N] was going to now owe her quadruple for this.

#my writing #Undertrash #Underfell #uf grillby #uf papyrus #part 4 #Diana's a spitfire #lol

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roleplaysinner · 5 years

Text

The island

The below post is a sequel to the 1st part from Robin Dev

https://www.facebook.com/robrebd/posts/931430177190006

Rebecca had come back to her hut....with a storm in her mind....she was not being able to think straight any more....having committed the ultimate sin without the knowledge of what she was getting into....If what Uday has told her were true then he was her own son....her own flesh and blood....and she has just committed the unthinkable sin with him.....she has let her own son enter her....she has let herself quench her sexual desires through her own baby which no mother should ever even think of.

Rebecca could not sleep that night...she kept turning from one side to the other on the floor....she had not told Uday anything about what she knew now....Uday was obviously flustered a bit seeing her sudden change of Rebecca's behavior towards him....she had tried to act normal as much as possible after getting to know about Uday's family.....but she was sure the change of her mood had not gone unnoticed to Uday....they did not talk much as they returned to the village....Uday did try to kiss her one last time before they parted....but Rebecca found some excuse to avoid him...which had left Uday even more confused...

What troubled Rebecca even more was her carnal state of mind....she had craved for conjugal bliss for 18 long years, but now she was cursing herself after having mated first time in almost two decades....the fact was that Uday's manhood had filled her in a way which no man had been able to do before....not even her late husband....whom she was now sure to be Uday's father. Her desires had been aroused to an even greater extent, but she kept denying her urges which she knew would have to be now suppressed for the rest of her life.

It was not dawn still when she heard a soft rumbling sound outside her hut....the island was as safe a place to be, with no crimes being ever committed by the natives who were pure of heart....she tried to ignore the noise and closed her eyes, in a vain attempt to sleep again....but she was stirred back to consciousness by a sudden touch on her body.....before she could react she was pinned down on the bed by rough hands....with someone muffling her voice by strongly pressing a palm on her mouth....she tried to fight back by kicking out with her foot....and she heard a painful groan from one of the men....but she was immediately overpowered and someone gagged her mouth tightly with a piece of cloth.....and then she could sense her hands and feet being tied with ropes....before being finally blindfolded....and her body being lifted off the ground...

She could feel that a couple of men were carrying her away....she tried to squirm in desperation to get herself freed but it was of no avail....she was carried for some distance in the darkness before being dumped on what she felt was a grassy patch of land....she felt a cool and wet breeze on her body, which made her aware that she was near the sea....

"What are you wasting time for?"....she heard someone speak in French.

"It is too windy at this hour....it is risky to venture in the sea on our small boat now. We have to row for quite some distance to reach our ship."....Another voice said..

Rebecca gave out a muffled groan....she was still trying to make sense of what was going on.

"Let's see what the queen has to say."....saying this someone removed the blindfold from over Rebecca's eyes.

Rebecca blinked her eyes a couple of times before she could look....she saw the five guys sitting beside her tied up body....even Uday was there.

"Sorry queen. We can only let you see, not let you scream...so the gag will have to stay on."....The oldest French guy said.

"What are you planning to do with her?"....Rebecca heard Uday say nervously....the dawn had not yet set in and therefore she had to recognize the speaker from his voice.

"Same stuff that you did with her yesterday....Drain our swollen balls inside her....who knows how many more days we will have to travel in this god forsaken sea....so a bit of recreation will do all of us good!....another French guy said.

"Please don't....she treated us well....you cannot possibly be thinking of raping her!"....Rebecca heard Uday protest.

"Of course we can think of it, and we will do it too.....it has been months since we have been sailing on the seas....without having any cunt.....how long are we going to fuck each other's asses, damn it?....don't you dare give me any lecture now.....just look at her!....I only see two boobs and a pussy....enough to accommodate all five of us....including you too....nigga!"....saying this the guy broke out into a lewd laugh.

Rebecca's face was flushed with anger....she had exhibited the best of hospitality to these men....else the natives from the land may have killed them....and this is how they are planning to repay her.....by rape....and possibly they were planning to kill her after that.

"Let's not waste any more time.....who knows some native may come along this path.....we have to be far away from here before sunrise"....the leader of the gang said...

"B-but what will you do with her?.....the captain will not bear such act from his crew.....let her go Sir....please!"....Uday pleaded....in a frightened voice.

"If you utter one more word then we will slit your throat too after we are done with her....you brown bastard!".....another guy said in a hushed tone....they did not want to shout lest they may alert someone.

"Me first...then you guys can follow inside her....can you folks get her ready for me please.".....saying this the leader pulled down his pants and his boxers....exposing his semi erect penis...."strip her....I need some help to get hard".....he said while stroking his cock...

Two other french guys tore open Rebecca's blouse....exposing her voluptuous ripe breasts.....another guy pulled down her panty and untied the rope from her legs

"Oh my!....look at that silky bush....I cannot wait to explore what's hidden in that jungle."....saying this the leader tried to lower himself on top of Rebecca....holding his own cock in his hand....and trying to point it towards Rebecca's vagina....

But Rebecca's legs were free now....she folded her right knee and thrust it right onto the man's groin...."AAAaaaagghhhhhh".....the guy screamed in pain....as Rebecca had kicked his nuts hard with her knee....he gasped for breath.....grimacing with pain while lying on the ground....

Meanwhile Rebecca had managed to loosen the knot of the rope that was tying her wrists....as the three French guys looked with amusement at their leader.....she punched right onto the nose of the guy sitting closest to her....he fell back....holding his bloodied nose....as Rebecca tried to raise her body from the ground..

"Hold her.....hold her down."....there was suddenly a bit of panic among the French guys....as the other two men pounced on Rebecca.....and held her naked frame down on the grass....she tried to free herself....but the men were too strong for her....

It was then that Uday swung into action....he sensed the opportunity and pushed the two French guys with all his force.....both of them were taken by surprise....lost balance.....and toppled on the ground...

Rebecca pulled down the cloth covering her mouth....Uday tried to pull her up...."Let's run Ma'm".....as he saw all four French guys get up on their feet and trying to jump on them..

"No....Get Down!".....Rebecca yelled....as to Uday's surprise Rebecca pulled him down on the ground....and rolled sideways to cover Uday with her naked body....

The arrows whizzed past on top of their bodies....and within seconds the French men were down on the ground....with arrows having pierced their bodies....Rebecca had seen the natives closing in through the corner of her eyes....and therefore had pulled her son down to the ground to save him.

The natives soon swarmed to the spot.....two of the French men were dead....and the other two were still breathing....the natives were furious and wanted to kill the men who had abducted their queen.....but Rebecca stopped them...

She stood up....the first light of the morning shining against the glistening skin of her naked body....and then looked at Uday and said....."How far is the ship anchored? These two injured guys will not survive if they do not get proper medical treatment soon.....I hope there is a doctor on the ship."

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inked-convulsion · 7 years

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He’s my manager...

Sometimes, deep down, you know it’s wrong, but it’s surprising how strong one’s desires could be.

I’ve been at this job for less than a year, and being the only single girl in a sea of mostly male colleagues posed its challenges. Most of the guys were okay - I didn’t really have a benchmark to define ‘good-looking’, apart from the personal aesthetic appeal overall. Like this one guy in the design department had amazing eyebrows, but his nose looked strange; or the other guy in HR who had the most amazing jawline, but he was almost a head shorter than her.

It was a corporate office, small scale, but she still had to dress formal for work every day. I used to only wear T-shirts, but the job demanded that I fill my closet with all sorts of different blouses and shirts that overflowed the closet. What I liked to look for the most were the sheer blouses that buttoned fairly low - after all, the company dress code only mentioned “no excessive cleavage”, and HR hadn’t given me any warning notice yet.

I grew close with most of the guys, even the ones with girlfriends, but I drew the line there - I was looking for a partner, not looking to break up anyone.

There’s this one guy, though. I’ve noticed that he’s always had his eyes on me. Well, everyone does, but his gaze lingers, especially when I have on something a little more sexy than usual.

His shirts were always crisp, and compared to most of the guys, he dressed the best, and always smelled amazing - musky, with a slight tinge of citrus. I never felt awkward or shy around other guys, but he made me blush without even realizing it.

We wasn’t traditionally good-looking, but there was something about him that was so attractive. It could be the way he carried himself, the way he spoke with such confidence, or the little gestures he made during meetings that made him stand out from everyone else. Or it could be just his gorgeously broad shoulders that very gently strained against the fabric of his shirts.

It was a Friday, and while every one had finished most of their work and went out for lunch early, I had a mountain of paperwork handed in last-minute by her client that I needed done by the end of the day, so I just asked a colleague to pack something for me.

I was alone in the office - or so I thought.

I needed a tea break, so I grabbed by mug and went to the pantry - also empty. As I reached up into the cupboard to get a teabag, a pair of hands slithered around my waist.

In my shock I dropped the box of tea I was holding, and fell back into his chest.

He seemed stoic at my blushing, but I could see the corner of his mouth curl ever so slightly. His hair was coiffed backwards today, which made him look different (read: ravishing).

I looked around after the initial shock subsided and realized he had trapped me against the counter. He was too close for comfort, and while his questioning eyes seemed to flicker with amusement, I took notice of the features I never noticed before - his skin was lustrous, and his lips looked so damn kissable. And his scent just made me soak my panties, if I were wearing any.

“Your make-up looks nice today,” he murmured, leaning in closer ever so slightly. “And you look so pretty in this dress today.”

“Uh... thanks,” I managed to croak. My throat was dry from this unexpected encounter. “But... uh, I think you’re a little too close.”

His eyebrow raised slightly at that statement, and with a little smile he said, “I thought you wanted me close? You should be a little more subtle when you stare next time.”

I blushed furiously, pressing my legs together just a little more.

“Don’t do that, you’re so airy already,” he whispered into my ear, sliding one of his hands along my thigh.

I let out an involuntary gasp as his skin touched mine, while my legs obediently loosened a little. My hands moved as if by a puppeteer, the hooked gently onto his shoulders as his lips made contact with my neck.

Oh shit, this is wrong. But...

It felt so good!

“Wait, we can’t, not here,” I managed to say.

His hands paused somewhere up my dress, traveling from my bare, pantiless butt toward my stomach. “We’re alone, babe,” he breathed, “I made sure of it.”

His kissed my neck harder, his movements more urgent. I was pulling him in - I wanted this. I’d fantasized about riding him right there in the meeting room, I’d masturbated to the thought of his body laboring above mine.

I was lifted onto the counter, and my legs spread apart. I looked away, slightly embarrassed at the state of my pubic grooming - I was in between waxes, and only about a week due from my next appointment.

But that moment only lasted for a split second before he buried his face in my pussy and ravaged it. I was clawing at the edge of the counter while he masterfully maneuvered my pussy with his lips and tongue, making me moan while he kissed, sucked, and licked me everywhere I wanted to be touched, like he could read my mind. His moans matched mine, occasionally praising my flavor, glorifying my scent.

It wasn’t long before my pubic area burst into contractions and intense pulses, and my mind to swim in the endless pool of orgasmic ecstasy - my moans were almost animal-like and loud. In my blurred vision, I saw him look up at me with satisfaction, wiping his chin on the back of his hand.

My juices had dripped all over the counter I was sitting on, all the way down to the floor.

As my orgasm faded and breathing maintained at a heavy pace, he was carrying me princess-style to his office. He set me on the little sofa he had facing his desk and unzipped his pants.

I hadn’t noticed his bulge until now, and it was straining against the fabric of his pants and boxers. I released it so that it bounced out to me, throbbing, begging to be touched.

I pulled his pants down further and made him spread his legs slightly, then went to town. I started with his balls, just gently cupping and tickling them, slipping a finger from the back of his scrotum slowly up to the tip where a bead of precum was forming.

I let that bead build up slowly, taking his throbbing dick into my hand as he let out a long moan. I tasted the precum with the tip of my tongue, swirling around the glans. He was looking down at me, pupils dilated and mouth slightly open. I continued teasing him, licking around the sides and bottom side of his penis, pressing it against my lips and rubbing his back and forth, but never putting it in.

His eyes were pleading, hands starting to grab me in different places. It was time.

Looking up at him and giving his glans one last kiss, I pulled down his foreskin and slid his penis into my mouth, savoring his tremble as I did, releasing an almost groan-like moan.

I paused before I started the motions, to wait for him to completely savor his first contact, for him to complete his little explosion of pleasure.

I let my lips gently push and pull his foreskin along his penis, looking up at him every so often, my hands constantly stimulating his base and his balls. He smiled at me as he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a smooth, defined chest, and then wonderful, wonderful abs.

I returned the favor by switching to a handjob, standing up, then pushing him so that he was now the one sitting on the couch.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I teased as I took a few steps away from him.

Thank fucking god I wore heels today, I thought to myself, before stripping. With slow deliberation, I let my back face him and unzipped my dress, letting him drink in the clasp of the lacey black bra I chose. I let the dress fall to the floor. It felt so exposed, to undress without panties.

I turned around to let him examine the “goods”. I almost turned an ankle trying to sashay sexily to him, but I managed to straddle him on the couch with my bra on. We were both now bare, with the exception of my bra.

My hands automatically slid to his phallus, wrapping my fingers around it; while his hands explored my body. I allowed one of my hands to feel him - his solid chest, the subtle indents along his abs, the way the curve of his belly button led down to his manhood.

Meanwhile, his hands first rested on my hips, and without changing form, moved up along the sides of my body, thumbs gently pressing into my belly, around and above my boobs to my shoulders, then progressing into a soft tickle up to my ears, and finally down to my boobs.

My nipples were straining against the lace, which he slowly pulled down and watched them pop out to freedom. His hands went around, and after a brief fumbling, he carefully let them settle.

Satisfied with admiring them, he pulled my closer and enveloped on of my nipples in his mouth. I threw my head back in a moan, now rubbing myself gently on his phallus.

As we both stopped, our eyes locked. It felt like I could fall into the darkness of his soul at any moment, and as if we’ve done it a thousand times, kissed.

His lips were firm, slightly nervous, but still soft and gentle. I lost myself in that kiss - time and the world did not exist, only us in that little bubble of intimacy. His arms grew steadily tighter around me, locking my body to his. We reluctantly pulled apart, and he wiped a tear from my eye.

He slowly reignited the carnal flame, kissing my once more on the lips, pinching my chin briefly, then slowly down to my jaw and neck. I teased his glans on my labia for a while, gauging his reaction - we were ready.

I sunk down on his phallus, both our eyes rolling backwards, groans escaping from deep inside us. I felt his junk fill me, and I could feel the very slight throbbing.

Before I could move, he pulled my knees up and lifted me, then set me down on his desk, my butt jutting slightly over the edge.

Positioning himself and admiring the glorious sight of a naked woman splayed open so vulnerably on his desk, he started thrusting. While most men would start at a fairly slow pace, it was apparent that he liked it rough.

His pelvis thrust against me hard, and it felt so good. With one hand, he cupped one breast and let the other bounce, while another alternated between rubbing my clitoris and pushing my legs further apart so he could go deeper.

I came over and over again, but he didn’t seem to slow down. On the contrary, he was fucking me even harder, letting out moans that aroused me even more.

“I’m close, babe,” he panted through the groans.

I was already in cloud nine of pleasure heaven - my vision was blurred, and motor reactions were dulled.

He bent down and cradled me while maintaining his rhythm.

“I’m coming,” he groaned, slamming deep into me after a few hard strokes, filling me with his precious juices. He continued to moan as his penis contracted inside me, and I came one last time from his orgasm.

His muscles slowly relaxed, gently slumping onto me. We were sweaty, panting, and somehow connected to more than just each other.

He pushed himself up after catching his breath, giving me a kiss on the forehead before pulling out his now satisfied dick. His sperm readily dripped from me, which he let me taste by dipping his fingers into me twice.

We managed to clean up before the lunch crowd returned, and we’ve been dating - and fucking - ever since. It’s funny how some of the most sinful and carnal encounters could end up in a satisfying relationship.

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tadomodoka4-blog · 5 years

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What are some of your favorite long johnlock fics (like 100k+ words) ?

@deerstalker143 said to inevitably-johnlocked: Hi, I really like your fic recs, and was wondering if you could provide a fic rec of long and sweet book-length Johnlock fics :D Thank you!

Hi Lovelies!!

NOVEL-LENGTH FICS: 100K+ FICS

See also: Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018) (I do have a whole bunch more since then, so just ask if you want a Pt. 2)

The Quiet Man by ivyblossom (E, 157,369 w. || Post-TRF, John First POV, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Present Tense, Imaginary Sherlock) – “Do you just carry on talking when I’m away?”

MARKED FOR LATER

Scotch Series by earlgreytea68 (M, 119,371 w. over 17 works || [Untagged, will tag when read]) – In which Sherlock asks Mycroft for a favor.

Ten Days by Engazed (E, 137,208 w. || Rape/Non-Con, Post-TRF, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Case Fic) – Sherlock Holmes has been dead for forty months, and John is at last beginning to live his life again. But just when he believes he might be happy, his world crashes back down around him.John is named a missing person. Someone is pointing DI Lestrade in the wrong direction. And as the days pass, his situation only grows more dire. It seems like the disappearance of his best friend is the only thing that can bring Sherlock Holmes back from the dead. Part 1 of The Fallen

from I am to see to it that I do not lose you. http://bit.ly/2IZBden via IFTTT

#IFTTT #I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

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nancygduarteus · 5 years

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The Coming Obsolescence of Animal Meat

SAN FRANCISCO—The thought I had when the $100 chicken nugget hit my expectant tongue was the one cartoon villains have when they entrap a foreign critter and roast him over a spit: It tastes like chicken.

That’s because it was chicken—albeit chicken that had never laid an egg, sprouted a feather, or been swept through an electrified-water bath for slaughter. This chicken began life as a primordial mush in a bioreactor whose dimensions and brand I’m not allowed to describe to you, for intellectual-property reasons. Before that, it was a collection of cells swirling calmly in a red-hued, nutrient-rich “media,” with a glass flask for an eggshell. The chicken is definitely real, and technically animal flesh, but it left the world as it entered it—a mass of meat, ready for human consumption, with no brain or wings or feet.

This meat was what most of the world calls “lab grown,” but what Just, the company that makes the nugget, and other Silicon Valley start-ups want me to call “cultured meat” or “cell-based” meat, or better yet, “clean meat.” The argument is that almost all the food we eat, at some point, crosses a laboratory, whether in the course of researching flavors or perfecting packaging. So it is not fair to single out this particular product as being associated with freaky science. (Yes, I raised the point that all meat is technically cell-based, too, and no, this did not persuade anyone at the start-ups.)

“Every big brewery has a little room in the back which is clean, and has people in white lab coats, and they’re not ‘lab-grown’ beer,” argues Michael Selden, the co-founder of a cell-based-fish start-up, Finless Foods. “But we’re for some reason lab-grown fish, even though it really is the exact same thing.”

Regardless of what you call it, Just and others say it’s coming. Just, which was called Hampton Creek until last year, started out making vegan “eggs” and mayonnaise, then revealed in 2017 that it had also been working on cultured meat. The nugget was served to me to demonstrate that Just isn’t vaporware, in Silicon Valley parlance, or in this case, vapor-poultry. There’s a there there, and it’s edible.

Just has been mired in turmoil in recent years, as board members resigned and former employees complained of shoddy science. (CEO Josh Tetrick calls the claims “blatantly wrong.”) Because of what the company said are regulatory hurdles, Just missed its goal of making a commercial sale of the chicken nuggets by the end of 2018. The Atlantic ran a somewhat unflattering profile of Tetrick in 2017, implying that the company is more style than substance.

Tetrick seemed eager to prove this magazine wrong. He told me he tries not to get too down about bad press. A couple of years ago, “we were pretty much just selling mayonnaise,” he said. But now the plant-based Just Egg, which was practically a prototype when the Atlantic article came out, is in grocery stores, and as of this week, you can order it at Bareburger and the mid-Atlantic chain Silver Diner.

Cultured chicken is, too, now on the horizon—that is, if people are willing to eat it. And if Just can ever make enough of it to feed them.

Tetrick is hawklike and southern, which, when combined with his conservational tendencies, lends him young–Al Gore energy. He’s nostalgic for chicken wings even though he’s vegan and does not eat them. When I visited Just a few weeks ago, he showed me a photo of wads of meat and fat in a bowl. They are chunks of Japanese beef that the company hopes to grow into a cultured version by scraping off samples within 24 hours of the animal’s demise. This product wasn’t ready for me to taste yet, but it’s important, in Tetrick’s view, to be a little bit aspirational. “If my team cannot see where we want to go, they’re never gonna go there,” he said.

“There” is a world in which cultured meat is inexpensive and everyone eats it, even if those same people have never heard of tempeh. Living, breathing, belching livestock is responsible for 15 percent of global greenhouse-gas emissions, about on par with cars. But Tetrick thinks that for many Americans, flavor and price rule the shopping cart, not environmentalism.

“I was born in Birmingham, Alabama, so imagine one of my friends who doesn’t care about any of the shit that I’m doing now,” he said, while perched on a bar stool in front of Just’s test kitchen. This hypothetical friend goes to a Piggly Wiggly to buy burgers. Except—oh wait!—next to the animal-based patties wrapped in clear plastic, he sees a Just burger patty for less money. “That, to me, is what it’s gonna take in order to break the dam of a habit,” Tetrick said.

Animal meat is a habit that many young Americans are ready to abandon. A quarter of 25-to-34-year-old Americans now say they are vegans or vegetarians, prompting The Economist to proclaim 2019 “the year of the vegan.” Burger King this month introduced a Whopper made with a plant-based Impossible patty. True, chicken grown in a bioreactor like Just’s is still animal, not vegetable; but without the factory-farming component, some vegetarians and vegans might be inclined to love their chickens and eat them too.

I am the ideal customer for this, because I enjoy meat-like flavors but don’t appreciate the more carnal elements of meat. I’m sure the Wrangler-clad Texan Council will revoke my Texanship for saying this, but I have never had a rare steak. I’ve never eaten something and thought, I wish this would make more of a murdery mess on my plate. And yet, I have no interest in passing up barbecue or Tex-Mex when I visit home or in telling my first-generation immigrant parents that I no longer eat meat. I would like a protein-rich substance that reminds me of my childhood and injects a robust, savory essence into my salad. I do not, however, care if that substance was ever technically alive.

Because frankly, life for many mass-bred animals is no life at all. In her book Big Chicken, Maryn McKenna describes seeing 30,000 birds crammed into a hot shed, some with bellies rubbed raw and legs twisted underneath them. Or, behold this description of the chicken-slaughtering process in a 2017 New Yorker story about Case Farms in Canton, Ohio:

At the plant, the birds are dumped into a chute that leads to the “live hang” area, a room bathed in black light, which keeps the birds calm. Every two seconds, employees grab a chicken and hang it upside down by its feet. “This piece here is called a breast rub,” Chester Hawk, the plant’s burly maintenance manager, told me, pointing to a plastic pad. “It’s rubbing their breast, and it’s giving them a calming sensation. You can see the bird coming toward the stunner. He’s very calm.” The birds are stunned by an electric pulse before entering the “kill room,” where a razor slits their throats as they pass. The room looks like the set of a horror movie: blood splatters everywhere and pools on the floor. One worker, known as the “backup killer,” stands in the middle, poking chickens with his knife and slicing their necks if they’re still alive.

(In response to the New Yorker story, Case Farms issued a statement that read, in part, “Our employees and growers share a committed responsibility to ensure the well-being and humane handling of all animals in our care.”)

Just’s process, meanwhile, is much more clinical. The company takes live cells from biopsies that don’t require the death of the chicken. It then isolates the cells that are most likely to grow, and gently nurtures them in tank-like bioreactors in a soup of proteins, sugar, and vitamins.

Across the bay from Just, in Emeryville, California, Finless Foods is attempting to perform this same procedure on fish. It’s not as far along as Just: Finless Foods has only 11 employees, to Just’s 120. Its office looks even less like a traditional workplace, with mismatched desks that early employees picked up from a used-furniture store. Its largest bioreactor only holds a liter of fish meat, while Just expects that in the “near term,” it will be able to produce hundreds to thousands of liters of meat.

Finless Foods’ Michael Selden rattled off an assortment of environmental and social injustices that motivate the need for cultured meat, from microplastics in our oceans, to greenhouse gases from shipping, to what he calls “environmental imperialism”: “The way that we get our food is very much just sort of like, we take what we want,” he told me. “If you live in San Francisco and you eat bluefin tuna, that bluefin tuna almost definitely comes from the Philippines. And we basically have fishing fleets in the Philippines that are, like, destroying local ecosystems to feed us.”

Whether Americans are sufficiently distraught over the state of Filipino ecosystems to replace a dinnertime staple remains to be seen. But for now, these companies have bigger challenges to getting to market.

For Finless Foods, a major hurdle is texture. It aims to make cultured bluefin tuna, which in animal form glistens like raspberry jam and springs back like a wet sponge. “I will not say we’ve fully solved that problem, because I’d be totally lying,” Selden said. The few journalists who have tasted the product were served a carp croquette that one reporter described as having “a pleasant aftertaste of the sea, though not fish as such.” Selden is looking into 3-D printing as a potential path to creating a sashimi-like simulacrum.

Similarly, when I asked Tetrick when his nuggets would actually be on sale, he glanced at Andrew Noyes, Just’s PR guy. “I know Andrew loves when I give timelines,” he said coyly. “I drive him crazy. It’s more likely than not … between now and the end of the year that we’re selling outside of the United States.”

Before that happens, the bioreactors needs to get larger, and there have to be many, many more of them, without sacrificing quality. Tetrick estimated that there would need to be 25 to 100 culturing facilities just to fulfill America’s demand for meat. These companies are also searching for a way to reduce the cost of the “media”—the vitamin slush the cells incubate in—potentially by reusing it.

Finally, the Just employees told me, they need the U.S. government to figure out a way to regulate the product, so people can rest assured that it’s not going to make them ill.

Al Almanza, the former acting deputy undersecretary for food safety at the U.S. Department of Agriculture, agrees that there aren’t enough data yet for food inspectors to know what’s normal or abnormal—and thus potentially unsafe—in a cultured-chicken plant. But he also says that regulators would probably expedite approval for Just if the company reached a scale at which it could sell its cultured meat, which it hasn’t yet. (The USDA did not return a request for comment.) And while Just argues that its process is better, from a food-safety standpoint, than animal slaughter, we only have the company’s word to go on at this point.

“Unless you have a perfectly sterile facility, with a cleanroom, and the bioreactors are being operated by robots, you’re at risk of some kind of contamination,” says Ben Wurgaft, a writer and historian who’s writing a book about laboratory-grown meat.

The U.S. Cattlemen’s Association has argued that only beef that’s been raised and slaughtered should be labeled “beef.” Just fervently hopes that when labeling rules do come down, it will be allowed to call its product “meat,” rather than “lab-grown meat,” for the good of public relations, if not fairness. “Back in Alabama, where all my old friends drive pickup trucks, imagine if Tesla put out a really fast, really affordable pickup truck, but Tesla couldn’t call it a pickup truck,” Tetrick said. “On the back, they had to say, like, ‘Electric mobility transport wheeler,’ or some godforsaken name. My friends do not want to drive that, because it fucks with their identity, unfortunately.”

On my visit to Just’s office, I asked Josh Hyman, the company’s chief of staff for research and development, whether the concept of cultured meat ever weirds anyone out.

“Yeah! I think it does,” he said as he prepared to fry up my $100 nugget from its frozen state. “Till you explain it.”

This is what Tetrick calls the “cultural component,” or letting “the consumer know this is a positive thing and they should eat it for dinner.”

As I chewed my nugget, I realized that though its taste asymptotically approached chicken, it was not, alas, chicken. It was crunchy, thanks to the fried, breaded coating; it was flavorful, thanks to the salt and spices inside; and its innards were creamy, which frankly is an improvement on the graininess of most processed nuggets. But it lacked the gamey animal kick that screams “chicken.”

We like meat to taste a certain way, but I realized that if I had never before had chicken, I might prefer this. Why is gaminess a virtue, anyway? Some people relish traditions such as hunting and fishing and the more visceral experiences with meat they provide. But if Just and similar companies are successful, future generations might only know chicken to be a pleasant, meat-esque paste, with no bones and skins to speak of. In fact, our entire notion of animal products might become unhinged from animals. The idea that human gustatory pleasure necessarily involves the inhumane farming of other creatures might come to be seen as outdated and gauche. A “real” chicken sandwich might be viewed, in some quarters, as barbarous as poaching. That is, if the bioreactor thing gets worked out.

Several Just employees have culinary backgrounds, and Hyman presided in front of the tasting table like a proud chef. There was heating up and cooling down of a pot of oil to reach the perfect temperature for my nugget. Noyes, who lived in D.C. before moving out West, shifted warily and remarked a few times that we were running “behind schedule.”

After serving me the nugget, Hyman scrambled up a custard-colored mung-bean egg substitute—the Just Egg, which comes in a squeeze bottle. It was fine; I don’t love scrambled eggs. Then he fed me a dairy-free rum-raisin ice cream that was one of the best desserts I’ve ever had.

Finally, he served up a breakfast sandwich made with a firm, plant-based “egg” patty. The patty had a pleasing earthiness, offset perfectly by a glop of spicy, stringy pimento cheese. Even at 3 p.m., after a full lunch, it was objectively tasty. If I had been hungover, it would have been heaven.

“Is this real cheese?” I asked.

“No,” Hyman said.

“What is it?” I asked.

He smiled. “We’re not allowed to say.”

from Health News And Updates https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2019/04/just-finless-foods-lab-grown-meat/587227/?utm_source=feed

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ionecoffman · 5 years

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The Coming Obsolescence of Animal Meat

Cultured chicken is, too, now on the horizon—that is, if people are willing to eat it. And if Just can ever make enough of it to feed them.

Finally, the Just employees told me, they need the U.S. government to figure out a way to regulate the product, so people can rest assured that it’s not going to make them ill.

On my visit to Just’s office, I asked Josh Hyman, the company’s chief of staff for research and development, whether the concept of cultured meat ever weirds anyone out.

“Yeah! I think it does,” he said as he prepared to fry up my $100 nugget from its frozen state. “Till you explain it.”

This is what Tetrick calls the “cultural component,” or letting “the consumer know this is a positive thing and they should eat it for dinner.”

“Is this real cheese?” I asked.

“No,” Hyman said.

“What is it?” I asked.

He smiled. “We’re not allowed to say.”

Article source here:The Atlantic

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