#for about an hour earlier i thought i was gonna go manic but. i think i was just understimulated

[hotwings0203]

Idk what this is but the thought of you being scared of Bakugos quirk is so hot to me

Tw:noncon, predatory behavior

“I swear he’s getting to be more and more like a villain every time I see him,” you giggle with Mina as you two walk out of the class. Bakugo had yet again exploded at one of your shared teachers for correcting him in his pronunciation of a word, and as usual it was quite a scene to behold. Chairs were almost thrown, his friends had to hold him back from leaping up while others egged him on, itching for amusement in their mind-numbingly dull class.

“Maybe Shigaraki was right,” your pink-haired friend snorts and you both collapse in wheezes, clawing and slapping at each other’s shoulders as the ludicrous image of Shigaraki being unable to reign in Bakugo comes to mind.

“Hey ladies, what’re you two laughing about?” A lilting and charming voice comes right at your ear, and you turn to see Denki, Kirishima and…Bakugo walking next to you.

Just because of his proximity and how you were literally just talking about him two seconds ago, you jump away from Bakugo’s glowering face and not so subtly hide behind Mina in a half playful jest.

“Huh? Whatcha ya jumpin’ around for?” Kirishima laughs and you exchange an embarrassed look with Mina.

“Oh nothing, we were just talking about how Bakugo’s quirk is totally villainous. We’re lucky he’s on our side,” Mina singsongs, but you slap her arm in alarm.

And well placed alarm at that, because Bakugo’s scowl deepens as he turns his head to you in a death-glare. You swallow hard seeing his expression and try to nervously laugh.

“But, uh, we were just joking. Right Mina?” You give her a pointed look and she deflects it happily.

“Nope! At least you weren’t, you’re half scared to death of him, isn’t that right Y/N?”

Denki interrupts before you can sputter in horror.

“Honestly, who isn’t scared of this dude?” He claps the other blond on his back and yelps when Bakugo’s hands start curling with smoke.

“Watch it dumbass.” He cranes his head to meet your eyes, but when he finds that you’re still avoiding eye contact with him he starts moving around his friends to better talk to you.

“My quirk isn’t that scary you idiot. It’s not like I care enough about any of you to blow you up-“

But with the smoke still curling form his hands and with the permanently intimidating scowl on his face reading closer and close to your, you can’t help but squeal and scrabble around him to sink your nails into Kirishima’s shoulders for protection.

“Okay, I get it! You don’t have to come any closer, I can see fine from here.” Your voice comes out too high and strained to be deemed as joking, but nonetheless everyone laughs at your dramatic show.

Everyone but Katsuki. Because he can see you’re actually scared, he’s seen it a hundred times on civilians who try to pretend they’re fine but still have that panicked glint in their eye.

“Jesus Y/N, with a reaction like that maybe he really is a villain. Bakubro, want us to send you back to Shigaraki’s place? Maybe you should reconsider his offer.”

And finally at Denki’s quip everyone including you this time laughs again in playful agreement, but yet again Bakugo’s blood starts simmering further.

Why the fuck were you being so obnoxious? He didn’t do anything to you before, right? So why the hell were you embarrassing him in front of all his friends and making him out to be this bloodthirsty monster?

Well, whatever. If a monster is what you want, then a monster is what you’ll get.

And so he waits for you after school, trailing behind you a couple hundred feet yet still keeping you in sight. He curses when you giggle with your friends, no doubt in his mind that you’re still throwing dirt on his name and he swears under his breath when you talk to Deku and his dweeb friends.

Of course when you hang around ditzy dorks like Deku he’s gonna look like a psycho in comparison.

But at one point you’re by the vending machine alone in a deserted hallway, fumbling with your coins and trying to quickly get a soda before your friends up ahead leave.

Too bad for you, because when he’s done with you they’ll never want to be seen with you again for their own safety.

You’re shoving money in the slot when he silently walks up a couple feet behind you.

“No friends around to gossip about me?”

You shriek and jump a good foot in the air at the sudden voice behind you. Clutching your heaving chest, you whirl around to see who it is.

Your blood runs cold. It’s Katsuki Bakugo, the absolute last person you want to be alone with in a deserted hallway.

Your feet move a step back.

Wrong move.

His nostrils flare and his eyes widen at your insulting retreat. You know he doesn’t take kindly to it, but with an expression like that how could you not?

“Uh, w-what do you mean?” You chuckle nervously.

He doesn’t laugh. In fact, he does something worse.

He matches your steps and moves forward a little bit.

At this you fully take a stride backwards and clash with the vending machine behind you.

He keeps advancing, slowly getting closer and checking you out, his head tilted as his eyes roam up and down your vulnerable body.

“Don’t move back. Why the fuck did you move away from me? That’s rude, we were just having a normal conversation.”

You surprise yourself by sounding level-headed in retaliation. “‘Kinda hard not to be a little uncomfortable when your conversation sounds so accusing.”

He lunges forward and you actually scream this time, throwing your hands up above your head in instinct to protect yourself from his proximity.

Bakugo doesn’t touch you but you can still feel his breath puffing on your head, can still feel the heat from his hands on either side of your body.

“You got a smart mouth don’t you? Is that why you embarrassed me earlier in front of everyone?”

“Embarrassed you-?” You squeak but immediately cut off when he thrusts his face right in front of yours, a manic look on his face as all his facial features stretch into a irate leer.

“I guess we’ll have to fix that tongue of yours. Put it to better use than to talk shit about me, right?”

Vermilion irises move from your face down your body, lingering on your chest and at the apex in between your legs.

Bile rises to your throat as he licks his lips and lets his lips ghost over yours, oh so close yet not touching.

And in the second before he descends, you shove him off with nothing but pure adrenaline feeling your fear and race past him, blindly running down the halls as fast as you can.

Surprisingly, you don’t hear anyone behind you. That doesn’t mean you don’t stop running though.

The real reason you don’t hear anyone behind you is because Katsuki Bakugo has an eerie smile on his face at your bolt. He languidly stretches his arms above his head and relishes in the popping of his joints, and in succession the popping of sparks in his hand. He kicks one leg out, then the other just to ensure you get a fair head start.

You’ve just made this so much more interesting.

He sets off at a light jog, and even in his carefree pace his strides are enough to eventually catch up with you, instinct like an animal’s guiding him through the winding halls and ending up catching a glimpse of your feet as you turn into another lane.

You’re panting, sweat pouring down your eyes as panic makes it hard to breathe or think rationally. The adrenaline that was pushing you is now dying down but at the worst time.

You take a quick glance back and your rapidly beating heart falters as you see him with a grin on his face as he practically jogs leisurely behind you. You’ve seen this same face on him when he’s in the battlefield, blasting through enemy hearts and blowing up heads as if they were fireworks.

He’s bloodthirsty. He wants you.

“Running away again? That’s not very heroic of you babe,” he calls out, and it’s terrifyingly infuriating how he’s not out of breath.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” you half scream and sob, trying to run faster but failing miserably.

You see a bathroom sign out of the corner of your eye and frantically stumble towards it.

Katsuki knows you know he’s even you take a turn and he laughs to himself at how boringly easy this is.

Maybe he was scary.

He shakes it off and continues his hunt after you, coming forth until he faces the bathroom door in which you were cowering behind.

There’s a small window, and no other door. Just a couple of stalls, a terrified girl, and a psycho with the taste of revenge practically palpable on his lustful tongue.

He knock with faux politeness. “You wanna come out and do this the easy way or you want me to barge in and take you myself?”

You sob and wheeze in response, desperately pushing against the flimsy door in a pathetic attempt to keep him out. Bakugo merely crosses his arms and leans against the door, staring intently at it with a smile still on his face.

Judging by the weight pushing more at the bottom of the door, he can tell you’re probably sitting down in an effort to catch your breath.

You both know he can come in at any time he so well pleases, but he decides he’ll play by your rules for a bit longer, indulge you a little before your inevitable downfall.

He hums loudly and slides down to join your parallel position on the floor.

“I’m tryina be nice here, y’know. You acted so scared of me when I never even bothered you before. Aren’t I being nice right now by letting you choose for yourself?”

He sounds so conversational, as if he were talking to one of his buddies. You stay silent but your silence speaks volumes.

It serves as nothing but a means to piss him off further.

The two of you sit in silence for seemingly hours, even though it’s only around 20 minutes. Every second you feel like he’s going to break down the door any second and blast your face off, but miraculously he doesn’t.

You don’t know what you’d rather prefer: for him to prolong your strained agony by letting you be so close yet so far from him, or to end your suffering and get it done with.

But you needn’t sit in silence stewing in your own fear any further, for at the exact moment you begin to doze off with the dying of the light the weight on the other side of the door lifts and you startle awake at the scuffling on the other side.

You blink a couple of times and blanch when you see through the window the purple light indicating that you really have been here longer than you thought.

Bakugo cracks his knuckles and rolls his head, popping a few more kinks in his neck before breathing out and bracing for impact.

“Ready or not little bitch, here I come.”

“Bakugo, wait-!”

But your plea doesn’t last for more than two words. The door bangs open with such a sound that you actually think he’s blasted it straight off his hinges. You gasp and shield yourself, jumping backwards and covering your face.

“‘Thought I made it clear by now that you can’t run. So why’d you try to leave? Huh? Think you’re smarter than me? You think you’re stronger than me?”

He’s stalking forward again, and you’re left tripping back over your feet and whimpering at his salacious intent as he backs you up and corners you into a stall.

He already knows the answers to his rhetorical questions but he wants to hear you say it. He wants to hear that scornful conviction in your voice about how big and bad he was that you used earlier.

With you tripping backwards into the cramped stall, his approach quickens in hunger at feeling you, feeling the fear radiating off your body.

Bakugo presses up against you against the wall and takes up the space around you, invading your personal bubble. He’s everywhere, growling in your ear, hands gripping your waist so tight you’re sure bruises sprout from his touch, his erect penis grinding on the inside of your thigh.

Your trepidation and terror rises to an insurmountable height as he smothers you.

When he suddenly grips your chin and forces your head to face him you gasp. His touch is even more callous than you thought.

“You lookin’ here bitch? Good.”

His palm is raised towards you and before you can even widen your eyes in realization his appendage starts sparking madly. You shriek and try to throw him loose as little bits of embers fly out and made your face, his voice rough as always yet dangerously low and soft.

“S’not so scary after all is it? You’re reacting better to it than I thought.” Bakugo Blanca you mocks your writhing figure as you desperately try to evade the mini explosions.

“Okay, I get it, please stop I don’t like it!” You shrilly cry out but his hand moves from your jaw down to your neck, and squeezes the last remnants of opposition out of you.

“Yeah? Good, I’m glad you get it. But honestly, I don’t care if you don’t like it.

Because I like it. I fucking love this quirk, ‘specially when you cower so prettily under it like you did earlier.”

You choke and try to scrabble at his hands but it’s like a butterfly’s touch to him, barely producing any fruition.

“I kept wondering to myself: why do I care if she’s scared of it? And then I realized,” he leans in and lets his lips brush over your ear, lets his hand lessen ever so slightly so that your main focus is his words.

“You just looked good enough to eat when you know you’re beneath me. When you know how dangerous I am.”

He pulls back and assesses the look on your face. “Makes you look good enough to eat.”

And without further ado he lowers his hand and starts rubbing his alit palm on your clothed pussy, his erection getting harder as your screams wilt into whines.

Your legs flail uselessly as he burns a hole through your pants and his fingers hook aside the band of your panties.

Bakugo thrusts his hips forwards and grinds his straining cock on your moist lips, taking in your blubbers and teary eyes.

You can’t even speak, you can only cry out like a child as he thrusts harder and harder, so hard that your back hits the wall painful and the stall walls rattle behind you.

“You-pant-fucking scared-pant-now slut?” He rasps, his head bobbing on rhythm with yours as he practically lifts you off your toes to match his pace.

Your clit is caught between the fabric and rolled cruelly pleasurable as his tip leaks precum, staining your own panties in the process.

With your attention rapt on his now-uncovered dick sliding in and out of your folds, he takes this opportunity to take his other hand off your neck and blast the wall next to your face.

The second you open your mouth in shock as bits of tile rain down on your face he slams his steaming palm over your lips, burning the soft flesh as you weep openly.

He sets off two more near your sides and another above your head, his own face aligned right in front of yours so you can see the mean smile on his face all the while he sets your heart racing at an alarming speed.

When the smoke clears and you can start feeling glass and tile imprint on your once-smooth face, he positions his dick up so that it prods at your hole and yanks your hair back.

His eyes practically glow with the mini fires preserved in the walls with his blasts, the impact of the air rushing around him makes his hair even spikier, his body is taunt and even more imposing than before.

His teeth gleam with the orange and red light next to you. His chest doesn’t heave, because he’s at ease with your terror.

“You think you know fear?”

With one swift movement he shoves up into you, but this time he doesn’t cover your mouth.

“You haven’t met me truly yet.”

#yandere bakugo x reader #tw:noncon #scummy bakugo #bakugo x you #yandere bakugo katsuki #bully bakugou #bakugo mha #mha #bnha #mha katsuki #bakugo bnha #bnha katsuki #katsuki #yandere katsuki #katsuki scenario #katsuki bakugo oneshot #bakugo katsuki #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #katsuki smut #yandere bakugo #bakugo smut #mha yandere #yandere bnha

[praisehoes-and-runovervirgins]

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

---

You hold the last box of your belongings close to your chest and take a deep breath nervously pressing the button to your new home. Wow, that sounds weird. Sharing a home with the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. Your chest tightens. “God, I better not fuck this up” you mumble to yourself as the pent house suite door opens. Noah stands in clear view of the door as it opens. You walk into the apartment. “Y/N'' he yells at the top of his voice. “Where were you? I didn’t see you. I was worried, '' he said all in one breath. He wraps his arms around your leg and takes a deep inhale.

You look at him confused and put the box down. You have to tear him off you so you can kneel down to give him your daily bear hug. As you do, you notice his teary puffy eyes. You look at him puzzled then suddenly, almost like something in you woke up you panic, “Are you okay baby?” you grab him by the arm and turn him around manically looking for a source of pain. He doesn’t answer. You grab his leg and pull his PJ's up to continue looking for some sort of bruise, anything physical that would explain him crying. “He was crying cause he didn’t see you” a voice said walking past you and Noah. You look up at Liam grabbing a piece of fruit from the counter. His face looked disinterested. “He woke up and he didn't see you, he thought you left,” he said, rubbing the apple on his shirt. You lock eyes for a moment as you try to read into his expression. Fuck, he’s just like his dad, so hard to make out what he’s thinking. The sniffles coming from Noah make you break your eye contact. You look at him with wide eyes. “It’s okay Y/N. I’m okay. Please don’t cry. I just thought..” he jumps on you again, this time throwing you both onto the floor. “I’m not leaving Noah” you say, squeezing him tight. You didn’t even notice when your eyes were wet before Noah pushed back on you. He wipes the tears out your eyes. You smile at him softly. A few moments with Noah went on about how he’s so excited about your room and how it’s really close to theirs. Where’s Bakugou? You look around distracted as Noah goes on. “He’s upstairs” Liam says walking towards you with a napkin. He hands it to you and turns on his heel as he takes another bite of his apple. You sit there stunned, holding the soft piece of tissue in your hand. “Did you hear what I said?” Liam says, grabbing your face with both hands and then smashing his face into your neck. “Let’s go find your dad, yeah?” you say as you start to pick Noah up.

Bakugou is on the floor, legs crossed as he’s holding a piece of your unmade bed frame. He has his phone pressed against his ear and shoulder. “I already told you I don’t want to go on another date with her” he growled into the phone. “Well, that’s not my problem. I don’t care what the public thinks about us.” he says a little louder. “Daddy!” Noah says running, throwing himself on his back. “Hey buddy” Bakugou says, ending the call in one swipe of his finger and tossing it on his lap. “What were you talking about?” he says, gripping Bakugou's neck a bit too hard. “You're trying to kill me buddy” Bakugou says, letting out a quick laugh as he releases Noah's hands off his neck. They sit there laughing for a little. I love seeing them like this. It’s so different from how the rest of the world sees him. Bakugou looks at you leaning on the door and cracks a smirk. “Are you gonna come into your new room or what?” he says, turning around to face Noah again. You feel like the wind was knocked out of you when he looks at you even for a second. I’m going to have to live with this man. You got this y/n? You steady yourself and walk over to them. You kneel down on the floor next to Bakugou, “Do you need help? I am pretty helpful with these types of things” you say taking the piece of wood off the floor. “For starters, this was supposed to go in that thing” you say giggling. “Ah fuck” he says rolling his eyes. “HEY, WATCH YOUR MOUTH” Noah scolds him. You all break out in laughter. You spend the rest of the morning setting up your new bed set. You told bakugou that you could just use the one you had in your old apartment but he insisted on getting you a new one. You can appreciate all the things he does for you, since you’ve almost moved in he’s gotten you the best of the best; everything from fancy towels to new hair products for your hair type.

“We’re off to the park” Noah screams at the top of his lungs towards your bedroom at Bakugou. He wouldn’t be louder if he tried. But then again, look who’s his dad. He usually doesn’t raise his voice around me but when he does, oh boy is that grown man loud. The walk to the near park was one of the best, Liam actually was talking to you about his classmates and how one of them has been giving him problems. You try to come up with a plan of how to deal with it. “If I tell dad, he’s going to make a big deal about it. I already get enough attention as it is.” he explains when you asked why you haven’t told Bakugou. “Well, I’m happy to hear you out. I’m not as hot headed as your dad” you laugh. He cracks a smile as you put an arm around him as you��re walking. After a few moments Noah bust between you both and yells, “are you guys done talking? I want a hug too” he says scrunching up his nose. You hug both of them. Noah pulls you close, puts his hand on the side of his mouth and whispers, “without him please”. This child is going to be the death of me. You pick him up and swing him into your arms. “You’ll have to let me go, we’re here guys” you say as you put him down. They both run off in different directions. You sit there on a bench taking in the warm sun. I can honestly do this everyday. This feels like.. You’re stopped mid thought when your phone starts to vibrate. Oh, the alarm I set for earlier. Well might as well check social media. I haven’t had much time since moving. The first thing you look at is twitter, you follow a few of your friends and some popular celebs.

“Did you hear about Dynamite and his new girlfriend?” you overhear two women say as they walk past you and take a seat on the next bench. What? “Oh my god. They look so good together. I would die to trade places with her”. You sit still for a moment trying to gather your emotions. Who is she? Why didn’t he tell me he was dating someone? I thought. I-I don’t.. You grab your phone quickly, opening it and going to twitter again. You search up, “Dynamite and” and there it is. You stare at your phone for a bit. There she is, a beautiful tall slender blonde woman arm in arm with Bakugou. You sigh in disbelief pushing your back into the bench. Why does this hurt so much? Fuck. Why do I even fucking care? He’s not even.. “Hey, are you okay?” says a deep voice. You turn your head, noticing the very handsome man next to you. “Yeah” you say, taking another breath. “You don’t sound okay” he says looking deep in your eyes. His hair is black as night and his eyes are deep purple, you can honestly get lost trying to figure out how many different shades there are in them. “Yeah, I just got some news.. I wasn’t expecting it” you say shifting your eyes down and moving some hair out of your face. “I bet. Boyfriend?” He says as he watches your face carefully for a reaction. You let out a slight giggle before letting out a breath and bite your lip, “no”. The man and you sit in silence for a minute. Fucking hell. Why do I feel like shit right now? This hot guy is next to me and all I could think about is you wrapped around another woman. Fuck this.. You lay your eyes on the man again. He’s about Bakugou’s age with a very muscular build, he has a couple white stands in his hair, he’s beautiful. “Which one is yours?” you scooch over towards him. “The little one over there” he points at the kid playing with Noah. He stretches his arm to rub the back of his head, you can clearly see him clearly stretching his muscles. You almost laugh out loud. Trying a little too hard buddy. You both make conversation for a while. It doesn’t take long before He’s asking you on a date, you accept of course. Maybe seeing someone else for a couple hours will help me get over this.. whatever this feeling is. After a few more minutes Noah comes over to you all sweaty trying to hug you. “Let's go home” you say with a smile. I feel like shit but I can’t even show it. This kid can read me like a fucking book. Okay, put on a smile y/n.

A few days have passed since you saw the pictures of Bakugou and his “girlfriend’. When you came home that day, you couldn’t even look at him. Why the fuck am I acting like he betrayed me or something. I’m just the nanny. Get a fucking grip y/n. Still, you tried to avoid him as much as possible. When he walked into the room, you would walk out, you ate dinner in your room unless Noah asked you to stay with him and you tried everything in your power not to look at him in his eyes. You were butt fucking hurt to say the least. After a few days you get the courage to talk to him. You take a deep breath before knocking on his office door. “Come in,” he says lazily. He’s sitting in his chair facing his computer typing away. He stops and cocks his head over his shoulder to look at you. You can do this. You need to do this. “Do you need anything?” he says, turning his head back at the computer with his hands still on the keyboard. “I-I I won’t be home Friday night. I don’t know what time I’ll be back” you say almost in a whisper. “Oh” you’ve caught his attention now. He turns off the monitor and swirls in his chair to face you. Fuck fuck fuck fuck “I checked your schedule and I saw you work till about 3. That gives me time to..” you say waving your hand around like a child explaining something. “Yeah, that’s fine” he says, eyeing you up and down. You look nervous, like you have something you’re hiding. “Cool” you say, taking a deep breath as you turn on your heel about to make a run for it. “A date?” he says in a low deep almost bitter tone. I was so close. I WAS SO FUCKING CLOSEEEE “Yeah.” you say turning back around to face his him. “With that guy in the park?” He says looking you up and down almost like he’s looking for a reaction. “Yeah, How did you..” you look at him confused. “When you guys came home Noah told me that you were upset about something while you were in the park and this guy started talking to you,” he said, crossing his arms. Why do I feel like I’m getting fucking scolded. “Yeah, I was pretty upset about something" you look away from him. How can I say: Hey, I was upset that you're dating a blonde supermodel because… well, I don’t know. Also, please sign my check sir without sounding like a total psycho. You quickly snap out of that thought as he stands up and slowly walks over to you. You’re still staring at the floor as he stands in front of you. “Is that why you haven’t said a word to me for days?” he says in a low tone, still arms crossed but this time biting his top lip looking for your eyes. You slowly look up at him. He’s so big and muscular next to you. He’s also wearing your favorite outfit. Those sweats and tank top combo will be the death of me. Your eyes finally meet his. In this moment you’re lost in his eyes, the intensity that’s usually there isn’t. You can’t quite put a finger on what he’s thinking or this unknown expression plastered on his face. It feels foreign but nevertheless it knocks the wind out of you. You feel your heart rate increase. “No” you say after some time staring into his eyes. I don’t believe her. “Okay” he says with a sigh. “Okay” you say back to him looking away. Tears start to form in your eyes as you walk away from the office. You take a moment to catch your breath in the hallway and turn back towards his office. Your body almost moves on it’s own. Maybe I should cancel. I don’t even- I don’t want anyone- Before you can knock on his door again you get a twitter alert. “Bakugou and girlfriend were spotted kissing in the park two days ago” it read. The pictures in the tweet were bad, you can barely even tell if they were kissing or not but It still made your chest ache. Bakugou opened the door to see you squinting at your phone trying to zoom into the picture. “Change your mind?” he said leaning on the door frame. You jump up and step back, you didn't notice how close you guys were. “No.” you say looking him dead in the eye. “Why would I? I am so excited” you say with a broken smile.

Bakugou and you don’t speak for the rest of the day. You are both noticeable in a bad mood.. “What’s wrong with daddy?” Noah says to Liam as Bakugou stomps around the house while you’re hiding in your room. “He’s jealous,” Liam says looking at Noah. “I have a plan, wanna help?” he says, smiling at Noah. Noah gives him the same devilish smile back.

Taglist: @lil-miminini @bqkuho3 @xoxo-teddybear @candybabey @butterflyhallucations @sizzlingdonutturtlemuffin @hay-leeeah @speedmetalqueen @yourfavoriteblackfemweeb @bakucumsackslut @shipchild @nanamithecute

I'm so sorry it took so long but If anyone else wants to me on the tag list for the next one lmk :)

#mha bakugou #bmha bakugou #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou angst #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #dilf bakugou #daddy bakugou

[pansyslut]

stilettos

pansy x fem reader

summary: you get needy on your date and pansy punishes you for it

warnings: dom pansy/sub reader, shoe humping, spanking, mommy kink, degration, praise

you took in pansy for the first time as she sat in front of you. she had on a silk dress with a plunging neckline and matching colored stiletto heels. you tried so hard all dinner to not look at her but you couldn’t help but throw small glances. her face, her collarbone, her breasts, her heels. your eyes darted everywhere and you knew she knew what she was doing to you.

shifting in your seat you try to look casual as the waiter comes up to your table. pansy looks at your stiff, flustered composure and orders for you. watching the waiter walk away,“are you okay baby,” she asks with an innocent tone.

to answer her question, no. you were most certainly not okay. you knew you were soaked through your underwear and possibly even through your dress and all you could think was about sitting on her face. you look up at her and stare at her glossy pump lips as she sips on her wine.

“i’m perfectly fine,” you say unconvincingly. pansy only replies with a hum and you knew she knew you were full of shit. you had spent the whole evening wiggling around in your seat- but you also knew that if you were to act up in public then you would never get her to relieve your problem. in fact, she’d probably make it worse and edge you on all night.

she starts to ramble on about wanting to have a get together with old friends and how much she misses everyone. looking at her chest, you let out an involuntary whine. covering your mouth quickly, you look up to pansy giving you a smile. it was only then that you realized she knew exactly what she was doing. she knew how much you loved her in that dress and those heels would add to her already bossy aesthetic.

“pans, stop it.” you plead.

“what was that? are you trying to tell me what to do? what are you even implying? all i’m trying to do is have a nice evening with my girl.”

bullshit, you thought to yourself. giving in, you start to twine your legs between hers and give her puppy dog eyes. propping your elbows on the table, you rest your face in your hands and look up at her.

“stop. it.” she says while throwing you a warning look. before you could reply, the waiter come up and starts setting down your meals. feeling pansy’s foot snake up to your thigh she starts rubbing it slowly. clenching your thighs, you wrap a leg around hers to keep her foot in place on your heat.

watching your waiter walk away, you try to secretly move down your underwear, letting them sit at your knees. moving your hips forward, you grind against her heel feeling the tip run against your clit. pansy catches on and starts moving her foot up and down. putting your head down, you try to hide your whimpers but you were reaching your climax fast and pansy knew it. drawing back her foot, she goes back to normal and starts eating her food.

“momma,” you say under your breath.

“needy slut. take what you got and be grateful. behave yourself before i take you on my heel in front of everyone.”

the rest of your dinner was spent trying your best to act unaffected. you were still pent up and pansy said nothing of it afterwards. she would go back to rambling on about something so insignificant even though she knew what you truely wanted and it certainly wasn’t to hear about how her nosey coworker and how her husband is doing.

getting in the car, you sit in the passengers seat and try to sit as close to her as possible. grabbing her hand, you place it on your upper thigh and let out a whine.

“please momma,” you beg but she ignores your pleads once again and snatches her hand off of your leg. “needy whore. you couldn’t even wait until we got home. maybe i should’ve let you get off on my heel in front of everyone.”

that shut you up quick. you knew her boundaries and how far to push and you were worried that if you pushed any farther she would have you up all night with no relief. you mutter a quick, “yes ma’am” and spend the rest of the car ride being silent.

getting out of the car in front of your shared home, you thought she would pay no attention to you but she grasps you hand and walks you inside. “do you want any wine? i never got to finish since we had to leave earlier because someone decided to act up.” simply shaking your head, you follow her out to the deck in the backyard and sit next to her on the bench.

“what are you doing?” she asks, snapping at you abruptly.

“um... sitting next to you?”

“well not less than an hour ago you were so inclined on sitting on my heel. go on then,” she says sticking out her foot. you stare blankly and see your leftover juices from earlier. bashfully, you kneel down and sit on the tip. “go on then, be a good girl for momma.”

she didn’t have to tell you twice before you started grinding on her. wrapping your arms around her calf for stability, you wiggle your hips, unashamed. the tip of the heel was hitting right on your digit causing you to let out a moan. you feel her push her heel up, pressing harder, making you shudder.

you look up at her briefly to see her sipping her wine with a smirk on her face, showing how much she was enjoying this. noticing your movements slowing down, “well don’t stop now, bunny. put on a show for me. i’m enjoying this immensely.” starting your speed back up your jump up and down slightly, trying to cause more friction.

“more momma, i need more,” you say looking up at her. you watch as she pops out her lower lip and you can see her fake sympathy all over her face. “oh, is that so? come on the baby. come sit in mommas lap.” you were quick to oblige and got off her heel but she pushed her heel to your shoulder, making you kneel again.

“i said you could come in my lap but i didn’t say you could lose your manners,” she says taking her heel off your shoulder, “you’ve made a mess. do clean it up for me.” her heel now propping up your chin, you grab her ankle and lick the shoe clean slowly, watching her reaction.

“good girl, y/n. i knew you could behave well. i don’t know what got into you at dinner,” she says shaking her head. you stand up and fall directly into her lap and straddle her. she grabs your hips and pulls you even closer, connecting your lips.

testing the waters, you push in your tongue earning a moan from her as she grips onto your behind. she starts to bounce her legs, pushing pressure on your clit. feeling her back away suddenly, “don’t think you’re getting away that easy, bunny. you still have yet to have your punsishment. bend over for me, yeah? i’ll make it quick and easy for you since you’ve proven you can be a good girl.”

before you had a chance to speak, pansy had yanked you and forced you over her lap. with your lower stomach resting on her thighs, you grabbed onto her legs for support. feeling fast slap to your behind you try to push back your hand as you feel the sting.

you feel the slash of her hand a couple of times as you try to muffle your whines in her dress. you feel her stop and suddenly rub you softly as she shushes you. “it’s okay, baby. you did so well. and now i can reward you good you’re being, yeah?”

she pulls you up and positions you in her lap as you instinctively wrap your legs around her waist. feeling her stand up, you wrap your arms around her neck and shove your head in her hair. she walks you into your room and sets your gently on your bed. “are you okay pretty girl? momma wasn’t too harsh was she?” she asks sweetly while caressing your sides.

rapidly shaking your head, you grab her hand and place it on your center trying to show her what you want. after placing a kiss on your temple she pulls off your panties and starts rubbing your digit it circles. grabbing onto her hair, you pull her towards you and connect your lips. your hips buck up as you grind onto her hand needing release.

hearing her click her tongue, she swiftly moved positions, placing her heat on yours. feeling her wetness, you try to rub your clit against hers. frantically swiveling your hips back and forth, the room is filled with both of your moans.

“fuck, bunny. just like that baby. feel so- so good,” you hear pansy praise. grabbing onto her thigh for stability, you almost manically move your hips. “cum with me, pretty girl” you hear pansy as she moves her hand back to your center, circling your clit to push you over the edge.

“mommy, i’m gonna-” you cut off feeling both you and pansy gush onto each other. both falling limp, you feel her move to fall directly atop of you, both too fucked out to clean up. kissing your shoulder, she mutters a soft, “i love you y/n,” before falling asleep in your arms.

#pansy parkinson smut #pansy smut #pansy parkinson x reader #pansy parkinson x you #pansy parkinson #pansy x reader #hp smut #pansy x you

[piscesparker]

Charm H.O

holland!reader

Warnings: B99 references, fluff, Y/n being a little evil 🤏

You sigh exasperatedly as your brother begged you to come with them because they were short a member to have a paintball match. "Why don't you take Paddy with you?" You asked, "I'm sure he'd love to come."

"I already did! But he's got homework." "Seriously?" He nodded, "And I told you, I'm not coming if he is." You pointed at the blue eyed boy standing behind your brother.

"Title of your sex tape." Harrison chimed in and earned a glare from both Tom and me. Tom turned to you and continued to beg, you sat on the bar stool of the kitchen deciding not to budge. "Tom, I hate him." You whispered, motioning towards Harrison who was busy scrolling on his phone.

"Hate is a strong word." "Yeah that's why I used it." You defended. "Oh come on love, I'm not that terrible." Harrison joined in the conversation.

"Title of your sex tape." Now you shot back taking your revenge, there wasn't really a valid reason for you to hate him but his flirty mannerisms really annoyed you, it wasn't that he was not easy on the eyes; you always felt he was a bit too smug.

"I'll take that as a compliment, thanks." You narrowed your eyes at him. "I mean just think of it, we'll be in a room, you with a gun and against me; doesn't that sound a bit of fun?" And then the cogs in your brain start moving and you begin to imagine shooting where it might hurt him the most. After you finish painting a mental picture you thought you laughed manically in your head but it was loud enough for everyone to hear. "Let's do it!" You told your brother, a lot more excited than before.

"S-should I be worried?" You couldn't believe it, Harrison was scared? Of you? This was going to be great. "You bought this on yourself man." Tuwaine clapped his back and everyone piled in the car, on to the paintball arena. You were bubbling with excitement the whole time, this was the first time you were so happy to do some activity that included Harrison. As you were gearing up Harrison walked to you, "Good luck out there Y/n," He bent down to your ear, "you're gonna need it." He whispered and sent you a cheeky wink.

"Believe me," you let out a dark chuckle, "you will be needing it more than me." You said looking him in dead in those ocean blue eyes and then picking up the paintball gun, scaring him a bit more.

"I am loving this color on you Y/n." You thanked Tuwaine for his compliment and divided yourselves into your teams making sure you were against Harrison. Tom, Harry and you were on one team whereas Harrison, Tuwaine and Sam on the other. The game stared off by everyone going easy on the other and then everything went to hell within fifteen minutes. Boys. But for you, your sole purpose was to take out Harrison in the best possible way; who knew all those hours of playing video games with your brothers would finally pay off?

An hour later and you and Harrison were the only ones left, and things just got more interesting. You were walking around searching for Harrison and then you felt a hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you and pressing you against the wall; of course it was Harrison. You looked up at him and stared into his eyes, you could see the glint of mischief in them. "Do it then." You whispered and closed your eyes taking your defeat with all the pride left in you. But then the unexpected happened, instead of feeling the pain of the paintball you fell his soft lips on yours and you didn't pull away; you even let him deepen the kiss, his free hand was now on your waist pulling you even more closer if possible.

You pulled away breathless and once again looking at him and thought of the perfect plan, trying to be as subtle as possible you swiftly lifted the gun, aimed at his vest covered chest and pulled the trigger and before he knew it you were sprinting out. At the end of the line Tom and Harry were cheering for you as Sam and Tuwaine groaned in defeat as Harrison emerged from behind you. "Ha ha in your face sucker!" You teased Harrison but nonetheless he was smiling proudly and kept thinking to himself how seeing you smile was worth it.

Before you and the gang could head back Harrison caught up to you while you were alone. "Uh, Y/n?" He stuttered, "Can we talk about earlier?"

"What's wrong, surprised the Harrison charm didn't work on me?" "Well, yes and no." He shrugged, "But I wouldn't call that the Harrison charm." "Then what is the Harrison charm?" You crossed your arms over your chest waiting for his explanation.  "Why don't I take you on a date and see for yourself?"

"Hard pass." You chuckled. "One date," he pleaded, "please?" After a lot of pleading you finally went out with him and you did end up falling for the Harrison charm and the charmer too.

General Taglist: @petersasteria @bleh-bleh-blehs @astrosurreptitious @hollanderfangirl @deepika-padukone @parkerpeter24 @yourstrulyamour @celestialholland @theonly1outof-a-billion @miraclesoflove @theglitterymess @osterfieldholland01 @spideyssunshine @zspideyy @rosie-posie08

Harrison Osterfield Taglist: @hollandbroz-n-haz @hjoficrecs @euphorichxlland @asshatgrace @anissalime @just-lost-inbetween-worlds

#harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield imagine #haz osterfield fluff #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield fluff #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield blurb

[wellimaginethat]

Helpless

Pairing: Kelly Severide x (female) Reader

Requested?: Yes

Word Count: 2114

Author’s Note: So I’m pretty proud of this, given that it is the first thing I’ve written after everything’s happened. I’m not sure if it’s exactly what the requester wanted, but I hope everyone likes it nonetheless.

Trigger Warning(s): Severe injury, hospital stay, mention of needles/IV, life or death situation, drama, cheesy fluff

Disclaimer: I don’t owe nor am I affiliated with any of the Chicago shows, I just like to play with the characters

Summary: Y/N runs in to a burning house to save a child but ends up getting hurt herself, leading Kelly to worry

Y/N = Your Name

Y/EC = Your Eye Color

It all happened so fast. One minute you were there next to him, the next you were running towards the building, screaming that you saw a kid still inside.

You weren’t wrong.

You managed to save the kid no problem, but sustained pretty bad wounds yourself.

Kelly couldn’t believe it. His blood ran cold when he got in the house and found you and the kid. Cruz got the kid and Kelly picked you up, running you to the ambo.

He felt helpless as he watched them intubate you, trying to keep you alive until they got you to the hospital.

The ride to the hospital felt like it took forever and he couldn’t shake the feeling deep in his bones. He was terrified that you were about to leave him forever and there was nothing he could do. 

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like there as a weight on his chest that he couldn’t get rid of no matter what.

When they finally got to the hospital and started wheeling you in, he was running alongside them into the ED, and he had to be pulled back to stop him from following the doctors.

~~~~~

The wait was excruciating. He couldn’t stop himself from passing back and forth. The rest of 51 got there not long after and they were all waiting in the waiting room for news on you, watching as their friend paced back and forth. They could all see how much pain he was in.

Although the two of you hadn’t made it public or told anyone yet, they all knew that Kelly loved you and that you loved him. Even if none of them knew the two of you were already together, they knew you should be, and they knew that if you died, it would kill Kelly.

All anyone could do was hope and pray that you would be okay.

No one said anything. It was so quiet that it seemed almost eerie to Kelly, given that they were in a hospital. Or maybe it just seemed quiet to him because his thoughts were so loud.

It felt like an eternity passed by, his entire body felt worn down and heavy but he couldn’t stop pacing until his eyes landed on Will Halstead.

The minute they locked eyes, he knew it wasn’t good.

“Tell me she’s not gone.” Kelly heard his voice, but it didn’t feel like he was speaking, he didn’t know where the words came from.

“She’s not, we were able to stabilize her, but it doesn’t look good.” Will told him carefully. Kelly could tell this was hurting Will, given that the two of you were friends.

Kelly swallowed hard and shut his eyes for a moment. “Can I see her?” He opened his eyes and saw Will nod.

“I’ll show you to her room.”

The minute Kelly walked into the room, he went straight to your bedside and carefully picked up your hand. You were hooked up to all sorts of wiring and machines, an IV was sticking out of one arm and there was a breathing tube helping you breathe. You looked so fragile there.

Kelly dropped to his knees next to your bedside, still holding your hand. “Please don’t leave me.” He begged quietly as everything finally caught up to him, tears finally springing to his eyes and slipping down his cheeks. “I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to do this without you. Please don’t leave me.” All he wanted was to hear your voice telling him that everything was okay, telling him to get you out of this damn place and take you home.

After some time, he couldn’t tell you how long exactly, his knees began to hurt and he forced himself up and to the chair, bringing it closer so he could still hold your hand and rub gentle circles on the back of it, he didn’t know when but he had stopped crying at some point. Everything hurt but he wasn’t about to leave your side.

Suddenly the machine that was monitoring your heart started going off like crazy and his head shot up to look at it.

Within seconds the room was flooded with doctors and nurses and he was pushing himself and the chair out of the way without even thinking about it, just wanting to be out of their way so they could save you. All he wanted was for you to survive and be okay.

Next thing he knew he was being ushered out of the room. He stood in the hall for a moment before he began to walk back to the waiting room as if on autopilot.

Everyone looked up at him and he was at a loss, not knowing what to tell them because he didn’t know if you were okay or not. Without thinking he turned and began walking out of the hospital.

He hadn’t noticed that Casey was following him, because he was still running on what felt like autopilot.

Kelly eventually sat on a bench, and after Casey sat next to him, he laughed. It wasn’t a happy or even an amused laugh, it was a borderline manic laugh except it was brief, sudden, and then replaced by silence.

It worried Casey for a split second as he looked over at his friend.

“I feel like such a cliche right now.” Kelly told him, his voice a hollow rasp from holding back his emotions. “The woman I love is in a hospital room fighting for her life after pulling a heroic stunt and I feel like I can’t function, like I’m running on autopilot or like I’m just watching everything happen.” He looked at Casey then, and his friend could see how Kelly’s eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot. “There’s nothing I can do to help her. I feel helpless.”

There were a million things his friend could say, but he didn’t. Instead he put a hand on Kelly’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, remaining silent for a long moment. “You know she’s not going to go down without a fight.” Casey finally spoke, deciding he would try to calm his friend. “She’s too stubborn.”

Kelly couldn’t help but snort. “God, if that isn’t the truth.” He shook his head as he leaned forward and put his face in his hands, he was trying to stay optimistic, you were still alive after all, but it was hard not to let the negative thoughts slip in.

It was silent for a couple minutes before Casey spoke up again.

“So you’re finally able to admit you love her, huh? Does she know?”

Kelly sat up for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. She does, actually.”

Casey would be lying if he said he wasn’t shocked to hear that. “You told her?”

Kelly nodded again after a moment. “This morning actually.” He rubbed his face as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “She didn’t say it back.” He added, swallowing hard.

“She was probably just shocked.” Casey tried to reassure.

Kelly nodded a bit. “Yeah.” He forced himself to get up. “Better get back in there in case there’s any news.”

No one said anything when he walked in, and they all tried not to stare as he shuffled in and fell into a chair in the corner of the room.

It was hours before anyone came to tell them anything.

“She’s awake.” As soon as those words left Will’s mouth, Kelly shot out of his seat.

“Can I see her?”

Will hesitated for a moment before nodding. “For a little bit, visiting hours are over and she needs rest.”

Kelly nodded. “I just need to see that she’s alive.” He told him.

Will nodded and led him back to your room, letting Kelly go in by himself and heading off.

Kelly walked in slowly, not sure what he’d be met with, you looked rough earlier but that was before they had to do more work, you could either look worse or better.

You were somewhat sitting up in the bed, you looked like shit and felt even worse.

Kelly walked over. “Hey.” He said softly, carefully picking up your hand.

“Hey.” You replied in a hoarse voice, sounding like you hadn’t used it in years or like you’d gargled with gravel. “I feel like shit.”

Kelly couldn’t help the small, relieved laugh as he shook his head. “I wonder why.”

You smiled tiredly. “I feel like a house fell on me.”

“Well, not quite a whole house, only the first floor ceiling.” Kelly told you in a teasing tone, but his eyes said something completely different. “You saved the kid though.” He added, knowing that was going to be your first question.

You smiled a bit more. “Good.”

Kelly swallowed hard as he took a seat in the chair near your bed, still holding your hand in the gentlest way, like you were made of glass.

“I’m okay.” You whispered after a moment.

Kelly nodded, not saying anything, not even looking at you.

“If you’re gonna yell, you should get it over with already.”

“I’m not gonna yell.” Kelly shook his head, still not looking at you. “I would’ve done the same thing.”

You fell silent again.

“I’m gonna go, give you time to rest, and I’ll come back tomorrow.” Kelly said softly, standing.

As he went to release your hand to walk away, your grip tightened to keep him from letting go. “Stay. Please.” You begged softly, Y/EC eyes looking up to meet his blue ones.

Kelly couldn’t tell you no, so he nodded and sat back down.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said...this morning, I think? I don’t really know how long I was out.” You rambled quietly, ignoring the pain in your throat.

“Y/N.” Kelly said softly, trying to stop you, but it didn’t work.

You shook your head. “No. I have to know...” You said softly, your eyes meeting his again. “Did you mean it?”

“Of course I did.” Kelly said softly. “I love you, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Really?” You asked softly, even though he had just said so. “That’s good, cause I love you too.”

Kelly smiled back at you. “Good.” He leaned forward and gently kissed you once. “Now get some rest.”

“Will you stay?” You asked softly.

Kelly hesitated. “I don’t know if they’ll let me, but I’ll stay as long as I can.”

You scooted over and patted the bed next to you.

“You sure about that?” Kelly asked, raising a brow. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t.” You assured him, and the minute he laid next to you, you snuggled close to him.

 ~~~~~

You were released a couple days later but you weren’t cleared to go back to work yet, so you were planning on staying at your apartment and binge watching your favorite show.

Kelly, however, had other ideas.

“I’m here to take you home.” Kelly smiled as he walked into your room just as you were finishing getting dressed.

You turned and tilted your head. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I took some time off to take care of you.” Kelly responded like it was obvious.

You frowned deeply at him.

“What?” Kelly asked you.

“You shouldn’t have done that. I’m fine.”

Kelly shook his head. “I’d rather be safe than sorry, and with my thoughts constantly on you they wouldn’t be on the job, so therefore I’m doing this for the both of us.”

You were about to argue but didn’t really see any sense in it, so you relented and nodded. “Does this mean you’ll be staying with me?”

“Either that or you can stay with me.” Kelly responded.

“That’s up to you.” You told him. “I don’t really care as long as we’re together.”

Kelly smiled at you. “You ready to go?” Reaching his hand out to you.

You nodded and took his hand, following him out.

“Do you need to stop at the front and sign out?” Kelly asked softly.

You shook your head. “I already did all that, I’m clear to go.”

He wrapped his arm around you as you were walking out of the hospital and led you to his car, opening the passenger side door for you.

“Aww, such a gentleman.” You said softly, kissing his cheek before getting in.

Kelly smiled and shook his head a bit as he shut the door and went around to get in the driver’s seat.

After you got back to your apartment, you ordered pizza and the two of you made yourselves very comfortable on the couch.

#kelly severide imagines #kelly severide imagine #kelly severide x reader #chicago fire imagines #chicago fire imagine #//first story after getting over writers block #it's not my best but it's not my worst and if i don't post it now I'll fuss over it for even more time than I already have

[apolloloki97]

“Stuck With Me” Mickey Milkovich x Ian Gallagher

GIF CREDIT: Showtime/TVGuide

Summary: A conversation after Ian and Mickey are reunited in prison in season 9.

Word Count: 1456

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “Video Games” by The Young Professionals

Note: I want their relationship so much except maybe without the broken bones.... SPOILERS FOR SEASON 9 OF COURSE. 

---------

It was starting to get to Ian.

“Stop staring,” he said, looking over at his cellmate. Mickey had been looking at Ian for the past hour, trying hard not to be completely disgusted.

“I can’t,” Mickey said. “It’s fucking insulting.” Mickey made another face of distaste before shoving further away from Ian, tucking himself into the corner of the bottom bunk where the two men recently celebrated their reunion. Ian was still trying to comprehend how Mickey had even orchestrated becoming his cellmate and he didn’t have the energy to deal with any of this right now.

“I was going to run, Mick,” Ian said with an exasperated sigh. He then turned to Mickey, trying to get closer to him, but Mickey wasn’t having it.

“Yeah, well maybe you should’ve just kept goin’ if you were gonna show up like that,'' Mickey said with a scoff. Ian sighed again, trying to stop himself from throttling the man he loved.

“It’s just hair, Mick,” Ian tried again.

“No, it’s just wrong,” Mickey said as he glared at the dark curls that were on top of his boyfriend’s head rather than the bright orange locks he had fallen in love with. “It’s a heinous crime. You should get another couple of years added to your fucking sentence for this atrocity."

“Mick…” Ian said again, trying to get his boyfriend to see reason.

“Nope, not liking it. It won’t stop fucking staring at me,” Mickey said. “I miss my carrot top and you killed him.”

“You are so fucking dramatic,” Ian said, leaning back against the stone wall and tucking his leg underneath him. Mickey scoffed again.

“Says ‘Gay Jesus’,” Mickey said with a knowing look.

“Shut up,” Ian said, smacking him with a pillow. “I didn’t pick the damn name.”

“You didn’t correct them either, did you?” Mickey said with his brows raised. “Fuck, Ian, there are better ways to run away from the cops.”

“What? Like going to Mexico?”

“Worked for me,” Mickey said, splaying his hands. “All I am saying is that when people run from the law, dying their hair is the number one thing pigs expect. I thought you were smarter than this, man.”

“Are you more pissed that I was going to run or that I dyed my hair?” Ian asked.

“Take a fucking guess, fire-crotch,” Mickey said as he sulked. Ian laughed and then moved into his space. Mickey glared at him but remained where he was. He still had the image of Ian’s face burned in his mind when the younger man had turned around and saw Mickey enter the cell with a smug look on his face. They had had a lot of reunions over the years, but this one took the damn cake. Mickey had never been happier to be in prison than right now.

“I’m sorry I dyed it,” Ian said, giving Mickey an innocent look that held so much love. Mickey, unable to resist him, gave in and reached his hand up to pull his tattooed fingers through Ian’s hair.

“I guess I’ve done worse shit to avoid the cops,” Mickey rationalized.

“You literally put on a dress, heels, and a wig,” Ian reminded him and Mickey shrugged, remembering that look well.

“You were the one who said I have great legs,” Mickey said, reminding Ian of the conversation they had after Mickey had come out. After Terry had beat the shit out of both of them.

“Oh my god,” Ian growled, “shut up.” Ian grabbed Mickey by the back of the neck and pulled him in for a kiss, savoring the way their lips always fit perfectly together.

Ian remembered the first time Mickey had kissed him in the van in Ned’s driveway. He had nearly danced with joy as Mickey pressed his lips to his before following his brothers into the house. Of course, the celebration was short-lived as Mickey was then shot by JimmySteve’s mother with a shotgun. Still, it was one of Ian’s favourite memories. “I missed you so much,” Ian said as he pulled back, letting his forehead lean against Mickey’s.

“I missed you, too,” Mickey said, pressing a kiss to Ian’s nose which made the latter grin. “And I’ve missed being able to do this,” he whispered.

“What?” Ian asked, needing Mickey to keep talking.

“Just being able to touch you, kiss you, feel you near me,” Mickey whispered as he ran his hand over the side of Ian’s neck, feeling his pulse beneath his fingers. “You’re still under my skin, Gallagher.”

“Good,” Ian said as he kissed him again, letting his tongue linger longer, basking in the taste of Mickey Milkovich. Mickey was the one to pull back this time, settling next to Ian and picking up his hand. Lacing their fingers together, Mickey played with Ian’s hand.

“Was it all because you were off your meds?” Mickey asked. “The whole van burning thing, or was it something else?” Mickey had been curious since he caught wind of Ian’s Gay Jesus crusade. He recognized the signs of Ian being in a manic episode from the few news clips he managed to see in Mexico. All he wanted to do was call Fiona or Lip and tell them to get Ian some help, but he knew he couldn’t. Still, it had torn him apart to see the love of his life going off the rails.

Ian leaned into him, watching Mickey’s movements. “Partly,” Ian confessed. “I think I was just lost, you know? Wanted to feel important again.”

“I get that,” Mickey said. “I was like that for a while down South, never really knowing what I was doing or where I was going.”

“Yet you came back,” Ian said, sighing deeply.

“I always do,” Mickey said, looking over at Ian who’s eyes were already trained on the raven-haired man.

“I’m glad you did,” Ian said. “I don’t feel grounded when you’re not here. I feel like I’m gonna disappear and nobody is gonna notice.”

“It’s impossible to forget you,” Mickey said. “Every day I thought about you from the moment I crossed the border.” Ian frowned then and Mickey could feel the guilt pouring off of him. “Don’t,” Mickey warned, but Ian had to say it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t go with you,” Ian said. “I should have gotten in that fucking car.”

“Don’t apologize,” Mickey said. “I get it. You had your shit together and I was only going to ruin you.” Ian was reminded then about something Fiona had told him after they had found out Mickey had escaped, that Mickey would set a match to his life. What Fiona didn’t know was that Ian was more than willing to get burned.

“You could never ruin me,” Ian said, grabbing Mickey’s face and forcing him to look him in the eyes.

“I’m sure your sister would disagree,” Mickey said, knowing well that Fiona had had a change of heart about him after the whole Sammi debacle.

“Fuck Fiona,” Ian whispered. “She’s not even here anymore and my family loves you.”

“Really?” Mickey asked with a raised brow. “Even Lip?” Ian grimaced.

“Okay maybe not everyone, but Lip will come around.”

“Right,” Mickey scoffed. Suddenly, there was a loud crash and the sound of fighting as an inmate got into with a guard. Ian tightened his hold on Mickey as a habit. Mickey then remembered that even after living in the chaos that was the Southside, Ian never liked loud noises. “You'll get used to it,” he said, rubbing his thumb along the back of Ian’s hand. “And I’ll protect you,” he said with a wink, causing Ian to laugh.

“Is that so?” Ian challenged.

“Hell yeah, I always gotta look out for my carrot top.” Mickey then frowned, “Well, you know, when he's actually here,” he said once again glaring at the dark hair on Ian’s head.

“God, fine,” Ian said. “I'll shave it. Would that make you happy?” Mickey grinned, tugging Ian back into him.

“Ecstatic,” Mickey said, dragging his hand along Ian’s chest and down his stomach. Ian captured his lips, nearly pulling the older man on top of him. Mickey tangled their legs together as they resumed an earlier position. Bracing himself on either side of Ian, Mickey looked down at him with love in every inch of his body. “Don’t leave me again,” Mickey said, nearly desperate.

“Never,” Ian said, reaching up to run his thumb over Mickey’s soft lips. “You’re stuck with me.” Mickey grinned as he lay back down on his man. Ian then rolled them over so he was back on top and there was no argument from Mickey as Ian once again showed him just how much he missed him.

#Ian and Mickey #Gallavich #Prison Gallavich #Ian x Mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless fanfiction #shameless #shamless fics

[ashleyswrittenwords]

Ballad of Bounty Hunters & Outlaws

Wild West LOZ AU

I’m slowing down one of my AUs and apparently moving onto another one already. Will I make a bunch of disjointed oneshots and inevitably put them on ao3? Yeah, probably.

I stole this AU from @kajuelle :)

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

There was a moment where Zelda had thought of herself as smart.

A bright mind that was intelligent enough to memorize his routine from hearing alone. Within a week, she had fine-tuned the man’s schedule down to the minute. She supposed it was odd that he waited a half hour before dawn to relieve himself, even stranger that it sometimes came down to the minute until she heard the sound of scraping boots against wood as he brought himself to a stand outside her inn room’s door. A slight grunt when he stretched and then clicking spurs down the hall.

But she wasn’t about to complain. That morning was the perfect opportunity.

The outhouse was the opposite direction from the stables and her execution was flawless.

Now that confidence was a well running dry very quickly. Zelda’s fervent kicks to her horse’s ribs did little to recover the distance her pursuers were stealing. Panic led her to do things that blue-eyed hick will kill her over; among those reasons was the clear indecision in her steering, causing her fright to bleed over to the horse. That only led to Zelda frantically glancing over her shoulder to see a barrel pointing right at her.

She opened her mouth to scream but it stuck in her throat as her body went airborne.

The ground met her quickly and she rolled several times before coming to a stop. Coming to her knees was an athletic feat, the Earth refused to stay still and by the time she achieved it a short nudge of a boot toppled her back to the dirt.

“Well, ain’t that a cryin’ shame,” a monotone voice talked down to her. She knew who it was from the saloon the night before. Link had directed her away rather quickly under the pretense that they hadn’t been seen, but evidently he was wrong. The eye-patched man didn’t look remotely as forlorn as his words were. “Was sorta hopin’ you’d give us a better chase there, missy.”

That woman with him was suddenly flanking her with a constantly swiveling head as if she has a crick in her neck.

“Come on, Lead. Let’s just-let’s just get it over with real quick like.”

Then Zelda realized she was loading her sawed-off shotgun when it clicked loudly into place.

“He wants her kickin’. That’s the whole reason I came with you because I knew you’d conveniently forget.”

“You shoulda sent Scout, then!” the woman glowered, raising and dropping her hands with an irate speed.

Lead shot her a glare. “Scout woulda fucked it up someway somehow,” he motioned towards Zelda with an empty hand, already walking away to gather the horses. “’sides he should be at the station right now. Load ‘er up and let’s get out of here before we lose daylight.”

Zelda tried kicking the bandit’s hands off her, but her grip on her ankle was like steel.

“Get the fuck off of me!”

“Oh my, little miss princess has got a mouth on her,” she drawled with a lazy grin until it steeply dropped, “She better shut that shit real quick before I lose my patience.”

Zelda shouted obscenities at the woman when her foot alone flipped her over and pressed sharply down on her spine as she untangled some rope. The binds dug brutally into the thin skin of Zelda’s wrists no matter how she thrashed.

Regret bit heavily, especially when the reality of her fall was found in dull aches that were only worsening as the adrenaline ebbed away. Neither of the bounty hunteres were answering her screaming questions until eventually a bandana was forcefully stuffed into her mouth.

She fucked up. Royally.

The woman cackled with something wedged between her teeth.

“Your daddy’s bout to be a sorry sonovabitch.”

The man named Lead busied himself with a lighter, attempts digging himself further into frustration before the clean cut of gunfire sent his hat to his feet. It fluttered to the ground, just at Zelda’s eyelevel.

“Shit,” he hissed, ducking to the dilapidated fence that had stopped Zelda’s horse minutes earlier. “Shit, shit, shit – Turette get down!”

Turette paused mid-tie to pop her head above the horse’s flank. Another shot rang out, promptly spooking it. Once the animal had dashed off, Turette man-handled Zelda into a stand only to push her behind the barrier Lead was at. Green eyes widened as the world turned side-ways once more with the slight glimpse of a galloping horse closing in on them.

Her captors were already positioned with their backs to the rotting wood. The wild look in Turette’s eyes was a stark contrast to Lead’s darkened expression – she seemed almost excited while he bit down on his back molars and twisted around to steady his rifle’s sight. The man barely reeled back from the recoil, flinching quickly when the reaction was splintering wood just above Zelda’s head.

Suddenly, Lead shouted, “Did you tip him off?!”

Turette balked, “Why’re you asking me that? Ask her!”

Both pairs of eyes met Zelda with a ferocity. There was nothing she could say because it was impossible that whoever was on the other end of the gunfight was an ally of hers. Zelda had very few and the ones she trusted had no knowledge of her whereabouts. Perhaps if she hadn’t gone out of her way to abandon the man her father hired to protect her, she wouldn’t be in this position. But he was miles from here and with Zelda’s careful escape there was nothing to go off in finding her.

Zelda aggressively shrugged her shoulders and tried her best to mirror their anger. She didn’t owe them a damn thing.

The distant sounds of a horse weren’t so far off now. Its galloping had slowed to an abrupt stop. Lead and Turette shared a glance as the rider dismounted, noisily making a show of patting his panting horse.

“I knew you two were a cowardly lot, but couldn’t we have done this a little closer to town?”

The lazy arrogance made Zelda jolt. Turette locked eyes with her quickly and the click of a decision was made. If not for the gag, she would have gasped at how roughly the woman brought her to a stand. The cold double barrel of a shotgun pressed painfully underneath Zelda’s chin, forcing her head to tilt back.

Another gun was trained on them only a few feet away, except now Link let his aim droop. A red bandana was tied just above his nose to keep the dust at bay. The eyes just under the brim of his hat narrowed.

“I wouldn’t be so liberal with that gun there if I were you, sharp-shooter,” Turette spat, increasing her grip on Zelda for emphasis. “Unless the missus doesn’t need ‘er neck.”

Slowly, he let the revolver fall to his side and a quick yank to the bandana revealed an easy smile.

“Let’s not be too hasty, now,” he spoke gently. “We’re sensible folk. Seems to me that you’ve got something I want and I’ve got something you want.”

With his rifle at his side, Lead positioned himself beside them.

“Mister Lincoln, you know the only thing I want is your body in a bag.”

Link nodded as if that were gospel truth.

“Yeah, well, ya have to understand why I can’t make follow through with that. I was thinkin’ along the lines of what you don’t want,” he gestured at Zelda, “That’s Bosphoramus’s girl. His only little girl. I highly doubt that your attempts at getting to me is worth that old man’s anger.”

Turette cackled and in a sing song voice cut in, “Oh, Link! You really don’t think we know that? It don’t matter who her daddy is, what matters is the pretty penny on her head.”

A piercing glare from Lead cut her laughter short. Link traded his sights on them, the smile wiped completely.

“Who’s got a contract out for her?”

Neither of them resigned to answer, at least not immediately.

He repeated himself more pointedly, “Lead, who called in a contract for Zelda Bosphoramus?”

“It’s a private contract and I don’t think you’re in the position to be making demands like that, outlaw.”

Lead gripped Zelda’s forearm and ripped her away from Turette.

“Make a move and she gets it,” he demanded, already pushing Zelda towards the remaining horse. She yelped against the gag, almost tripping on air. Lead motioned to Turette. “Disarm him and take his horse. The train leaves in less than an hour.”

Zelda resisted but he was stronger than Turette, basically lifting her from the ground. She let out a muffled scream and desperately writhed against his grip on her. Over his shoulder, she watched as Turette reached for his pistol only for Link to twist the weapon around and thwack it across her crown.

She let out a strangled noise, hands scrambling to console the pain bursting from her bleeding head. Link pushed her aside.

Lead hadn’t turned around by the time Link pressed the gun to his temple. The movements were so swift that she hadn’t seen his forearm wrap around the bounty hunter’s neck to drag him down to Link’s height.

“Come on, you know what to do,” Link murmured.

Anger boiled red in Lead’s face, but he did as was told and dropped his arms. Zelda’s feet met the ground, off kilter and stumbling. Turette was still crying out behind them with her shotgun buried in the dirt.

“Now,” Link sneered, spinning Lead around to talk to both bounty hunters. “I’m gonna give y’all the opportunity to get the fuck out of here on two conditions: take that ‘private contact’ off the board and tell whoever put it up that he answers to me.”

The rifle skidded across the dirt. Turette was manically nodding and stumbled to Lead’s horse with bloody hands. The other simply glowered when Link pushed him away, persuaded only by the barrel trained on him.

“You’re scum.”

“Goes both ways, Guardian.”

They left without much fanfare. Link kept his eyes on them until the distance was to his satisfaction. Zelda had taken a seat staring at the ground, hands to bound tightly when he turned to her. She’d seen him angry before, but nothing was schooled in his expression now. He breathed in loudly and took his hat from his head to rake a hand through his hair.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!”

Every word was emphasized as if it were a question that had been on his mind for hours.

Zelda winced as he cut the rope and unthreaded it from her wrists.

“You’re damn lucky I busted that door down,” he exasperated with a shaking head. “You better thank your lucky stars and Hylia Herself that I even thought to check in on you! I knew it was strange that you were so tired all week. I knew something was up, but I still gave you the benefit of the doubt. You might hate me plenty but those people don’t give a damn about your well-being. Why, I’m surprised you aren’t in a ditch by now.”

He rounded her and crouched to remove to gag, but Zelda had beaten him. She couldn’t pinpoint when her eyes betrayed her. Her vision went watery, but it was too late to hide it. Link had stilled, his mouth open to berate her further yet nothing came out.

“I’m sorry!” she shouted, her voice fragmented. Her brow knitted, both from his provocation and the shock of almost dying. A gun had been to her neck. Zelda had seen the insanity in that woman’s eyes, the excitement to see violence from a loaded gun. She had felt that.

She repeated the apology and curled up into herself. Link was obviously hesitant to do anything. Neither of them could recall a moment where she apologized to him for anything. There was no amount of guilt that could have made her regret her attempts to drive him away. Zelda’s cruelty had simply been a means to an end until now.

Despite her ugly sniffling, he didn’t walk away. Link sat beside her, occasionally placing his hand on her back or brushing strands of escaped hair from her face. Even after she collected what was left of herself, he said very little and deigned only to guide her onto Epona’s saddle. The rest of the ride consisted of collecting her spooked mount and traveling back to the inn.

Much of their silence consisted of an amalgamation of thoughts about how Zelda Bosphoramus might actually need that blue-eyed hick.

#this is an excuse to write link with an accent #judge me idc #there's a lot of swearing in this i'm sorry #wild west au #loz #loz au #zelink #? #inevitable prolly #zelda #link #yeehaw #ashleyswrittenwords

[now-im-a-belieber]

speirs + "you're scaring me" or "you're so cute when you're mad" it goes without saying, but please make me cry ❤️

prompt: "you're scaring me"

ron speirs x reader

a/n: hi, i have no idea how to write speirs, but i tried? please forgive me for how bad this is. i was just anxious to post something again :/

taglist: @capsparkyspeirs @wecomrades @tvserie-s-world

══════════════════

Everyone had a breaking point. Some men would meet it, and stumble to the ground and bleed out for good. Others would claw their way back to standing and carry on best they could. Some men lost their wits trying to avoid the inevitable crash and burn that came for everyone. They could fight and curse and cry, but no man could escape war without facing the end of their rope at least once. Everyone had a breaking point.

Even Ron Speirs.

Some said he'd already lost it long ago. And his high strung manic behaviour was born from some horrific terror that he vowed never to be affected by again. Some believed he was truly immune to any such stumble and was built inside and out to handle the weight of any war. You didn't quite know what to believe, really.

You'd never known exactly what to think of Ron Speirs.

Even tonight, after all this time. It was as if you were always hearing about Ron. Never hearing nearly as much from him. Though he tried, bless his heart. He tried so hard with you. And that's how you knew there was some kind of real honest love in the pull that kept pushing the two of you back together.

He'd steal you away to join him for useless patrols and for drinks in local pubs when there was time. When there wasn't, he'd maintain quiet by your side in a half dug fox hole- not daring to frighten you with his chatter about being some kind of dead man walking. He'd tried once, somewhere back in France. And you couldn't help but let out a giggle at his scare tactics. You might've regretted laughing at what he'd said if he hadn't been so quick to smirk at your reaction. It was all a blur since that night. A mess of memories of stolen midnight meetings and winks across briefing rooms... And rumours about the man when he was away.

Tonight was no exception. All the things you'd heard about Ron before you'd dared to try and get to know him, all the rumours that arose still, were being traded like campfire stories one room over.

Your nerves gathered in heaps each passing minute, while you stole cigarettes from the pack Luz left on the tiny coffee table he and Talbert were using to play some card game. It was a futile distraction. Both men would glance past their deck and toward the parlour where some replacement was getting the ever-loving shite knocked out of him.

You had almost missed everything. You weren't anywhere around when Talbert came rushing through hours earlier, gathering friends to head off on a manhunt. You'd almost missed the group of guys shoving a stranger into the closest room of the building you'd been calling home, for now. If you hadn't breezed in from waiting up for Ron just then, you might've very well gone the whole night without hearing what happened.

And it was only because Luz and Talbert stayed behind that you managed to ask what the hell was going on.

It was Easy's favourite funny man who'd passed on the gut-wrenching news. Chuck had been shot, and the man who dared to fire his weapon was in the next room over, facing payback at the insistence of Ron Speirs. Only he wasn't here, not yet. Talbert said the man you so often concerned yourself with would only return from the hospital they managed to open in the nick of time, when he knew the Sargents fate.

So you smoked while the boys pretended to play a card game. You watched time pass much too slowly for your liking, promising Luz to repay all the cigarettes you'd stolen in an effort to stay calm. There was no one you wanted to hear from more than Ron, now, for more reasons than one. You battled the selfish feelings as all sorts of other worries had you pacing the hall. The war was supposed to be over. Ron was supposed to have met you for dinner. But he was off someplace, taking charge.

Just as you began marvelling over the man's fortitude, and wondering if it was his courage that might inevitably send him into a spiral, he appeared.

Ron breezed in, but you heard him before you saw him. His demands to know where they'd taken the assailant echoed through the hall you'd wandered toward the stillness of. At that, you stamped out the cigarette you'd only just started and rushed toward the man who'd been on your mind all the while.

Ron was passing through the doorway you'd been avoiding by the time you reached him. So you dashed in his direction but had to stall in the frame of the opened door to take in the scene.

The room was full of men you'd come to trust and admire, their faces pulled down with frowns. Their eyes heavy, fists bloodied. It wasn't much of an unusual sight. You just thought you'd seen the last of nights like these.

You thought you'd seen the last of the gazes your friends cast toward Ron in moments like now. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the soldier, expressions reminiscent of those they wore when the stories about Ron were traded to spook the new kids. They looked afraid of what they'd heard he was capable of. Afraid of what he might do now.

Ron managed to scare everyone, somehow, some way. But never you. Not until now.

Of course, you understood when he lashed the end of his gun across the bastard's face. And you couldn't blame him for pointing the weapon right at the waste of space who'd put your friend's life on the line.

But there was a certain fury in Ron's eyes. The gaze he wore brought every story and rumour to life for a moment, whether they were ever true or not. And you weren't sure what he'd do next. You never really were. But this time, that frightened you.

Everyone watched on silently. Maybe they were scared, too. Maybe they'd been waiting to see something like this with their own eyes. But you weren't. As the gun shook with the tremor of Ron's hand, you realized he was just as frightened of what might happen next.

Despite your halfhearted and very brief attempt at shoving your feelings deep down, they only swelled more fiercely. And Ron's paused action was the final straw that toppled over your will at keeping calm. The words you'd been biting back clawed their way through your throat and pushed past your lips by what seemed to be their very own volition.

"Ron... You're scaring me." You managed to croak, in a whispered plea from the doorway, ready toward bolt to or from whatever commotion came of the scene.

At your desperate, frightened call the soldier seemed to ever so slightly turn toward you. He considered everything for another moment, everyone's collectively held breaths in the palm of his trembling hand.

Then he seemed to notice the blood soaking his fingers. He wiped the side of his hand on the shoulder of the man they had all tied up, as he fought for an easy breath. But none of your comrades seemed to let out their own sighs. Not until Ron reached for his hat, letting it slide away, exhaustion every so slightly evident in his movement.

You watched as he turned toward the door, not looking at you but instead instructing Talbert to get the MP's to take care of the criminal's fate.

"Grant's dead?" Your friend begged to know.

"No. Kraut surgeon says he's gonna make it," Ron replied, a sure statement spoken with confidence. But you heard the waver that lived on the edge of his tone, and the dread in your gut only stirred more so.

Before you could reach out to him, Ron stormed out of the door without a further word, or a glance your way.

You were left with no choice but to scramble after the man. The only goodbye you manage to offer your friends is a pointed apologetic look before dashing off, hot on Ron's trail.

Your heart raced as you watched the man you loved saunter further down the road. His shoulders square, his pace steady, like he was on duty, like his mission was never-ending.

You called his name in your hurry to keep up with him, hoping he'd pause, or call back, or something. But he just kept walking, turning a corner as if your voice never reached him.

You moved even quicker now, at his silence. In a worried haze, you rounded the corner quickly, never thinking of stalling. But Ron had stopped just there, causing you to nearly crash into him.

You held your hands to his shoulders, half steadying yourself to stand, half digging your claws into him so he might not ever go so far from you again. And right as you opened your mouth to ask a dozen questions, Ron beat you to it.

"I don't know if I did the right thing, just now." He spoke so much more softly than he'd just been that it made your worry grow tenfold. Ron's eyes glazed over, unfocused. His quandary hung heavy in the air between you. And you'd barely processed its meaning, let alone any sort of answer in the seconds that passed in silence. Then your man met your eyes. His slowly came to lock with yours, and you realized he was waiting for you to say something, anything.

"I... I don't know either." You half shrugged, still holding his shoulders as if that would keep him from sinking deeper into the darkness you could see start to fill him up.

"I didn't mean to scare you... I didn't-"

You shook your head at his discombobulated way of apologizing and moved your hands to his face. Holding him much more tenderly in hopes the sweet gesture would calm the usual electric tide about Ron that seemed to be buzzing out of control tonight.

"Let's go see Chuck. Can we?" You wondered suddenly. Would he even be aware of your presence by his side? Would it even help Chuck? Or Ron, for that matter?

Your man nodded, though, and drew one of his hands closer to grab ahold of one of yours. And with a furrowed brow, he started yammering another vague apology. Saying something about how he wondered if he'd regret letting the replacement go like that. And it just wasn't like him to battle with such uncertainties. So you stopped Ron's murmurs by saying the first thing that came to your mind,

"I still think you're the meanest, toughest son of a bitch in the whole regiment. " You assured with a smile, meant to encourage his own. "And I'm sure all the others do too."

Then he grinned, and let his eyes roll away from yours. And some part of him seemed more alive at your jest. After a beat, he nudged you to walk on, with his hand in yours. And you knew this was only the start of the worst night ever. And that maybe once you got him all alone, really alone, your man might really lose it.

Everyone had a breaking point. Maybe this was Ron's. You hadn't quite figured him out yet, even after all this time. Maybe you never would. But so long as you got to tough it out at your favourite soldier's side, there wasn't really much to fear.

#ron speirs #ronald speirs #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #band of brothers

[hermit-pistol]

fright night (josuke x reader)

Happy Halloween everyone! Here’s a surprise fic for you guys, enjoy and stay safe! 

"A haunted house on Halloween night, man you really are insane.." Koichi suppressed the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes at his friend across the table.

It was a surprisingly warm Halloween afternoon in Morioh, at least warm enough for there to be outdoor seating at Tonio's. He was having a special on Italian cuisine that the boys just couldn't say no to.

An hour after arriving, the food had been picked over and now the group was talking about their plans for the night. Josuke had been dating you (his special someone) for only a few months now, but he was very much so looking forward to spending this night with you in particular.

More importantly, he wanted to find a perfect way to scare you so it would work in his favor.

"I think it'll be a great idea, in my opinion," Josuke shook his head. "I can see it now. Y/N and I will go in and they'll get spooked by somethin' and have no choice but to cling to my chest!"

"It's confirmed, you're delusional. It's gonna be the other way around." Josuke frowned at the comment, but was even more surprised when Okuyasu was silent.

"As my best friend, you're supposed to be standing up for me you know." He shot a pointed look at his pal, who just shrugged his shoulders in response.

"Josuke, look. While I'm all for your crazy schemes, this is quite a stretch. If it were me, I'd just spend Halloween watching scary movies and cuddling! You can't beat that." Koichi nodded in agreement.

"Man's got a point."

"Ugh, you two are no help. I'm going to take Y/N to a haunted house tonight and you two goons aren't gonna stop me!" Josuke crossed his arms and stuck out his lower lip, a clear sign of pouting.

"It's your funeral." Koichi got up from his chair, adjusting his clothes before pushing his chair in. To avoid disaster, he'd keep his phone's ringer on.

"You know, you're talking but all I hear is blah blah blah..." The stubborn boy got up and Okuyasu followed suit.

"Well, I'm gonna meet up with Yukako tonight. Call me if you need to be saved." A dismissive wave of the hand told him all he needed as he walked away; Josuke was still mid temper tantrum.

"See ya, Koichi!" Okuyasu waved at the retreating figure of his friend. And then there were two. "Josuke, I'm gonna hang out with my dad tonight. People like to loiter around our place... since they think it's a haunted house and all..." He bit his lip.

"Oh! Yeah, enjoy having time with your dad. I'm gonna give Y/N a ring. Talk to you tomorrow." He waved, leaving Josuke alone at the table.

Before walking back instead the restaurant to give Tonio his well-deserved cash, he decided to give you a ring. The dial tone played a few times before he could hear your voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Hi, babe! It's me, but you probably already knew that hehe-" He giggled at his own stupidity.

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh yourself; your boyfriend could be such a dork at times. "Yes, yes I know it's you. Now, do you have a reason for calling?"

"Yes, actually. What's your schedule lookin' like tonight."

"Hmm, I don't know. Let me check." You already knew the answer but decided to humor him. After a dramatically long pause, you spoke again. "Ah! What a lucky boy you are. My schedule is free."

"O-oh perfect!" His hands started to become clammy as he tightened his grip on his phone. Why was he getting nervous all of a sudden? "Well, if you're up for it, our local haunted house is having a discount tonight. Was wonderin' if you wanted to go with?"

"Ohoh~" You chuckled before continuing, "Now I see why you called. Well, count me in. Just don't come running to me when you get scared.

Josuke scoffed, almost a little offended. "Oh, we'll see about that. Pick you up at 7 sharp."

"See ya then!" You hung up, mind running to outfit ideas immediately. This would be interesting.

Josuke hung up as well, rifling through his wallet to scrounge up some extra bills. After dropping them off inside, he left in a rush, eager to head home. (Tonio was a bit peeved that he was a few coins short, but since they were friends he'd let it slide.)

He had to prepare for his big date tonight.

--------

A few hours later, the sun had just begun to set behind the skyline. Even though it was unseasonably warm during the day, the loss of the sun gave way to brisk winds and darkness.

You had just put on your outfit and were completing the finishing touches when your phone rang once more. You picked it up to see that Josuke had opted to send you a text, saying that he was outside waiting for you. The end of the message even had one of those cheesy smiley faces.

When you opened the door, you were met with Josuke; he was clad in his best date attire. It was appropriate for the weather, wearing a simple jacket, jeans, and sneakers. "You look nice." He smiled, admiring your own sweater and jeans.

"Oh thank you, you're too kind." You gave him a peck on the lips before turning around to lock up. Since everything in the town was in close proximity, you would be walking to the venue.

It was a blissful short walk, adorned with hints of conversation. Your arms were interlocked, and you could smell the faint scent of the cologne that he had applied earlier in the day. It was always a tasteful amount, never too much.

When you arrived at the admission booth, you could have sworn that you felt Josuke's arm tremble. You brushed off the feeling, reaching into your bag to get your wallet. He placed his hand over yours, maintaining eye contact. "Nah babe, I got this one."

In all honesty, he didn't know if he had enough funds to pay, given the incident at Tonio's earlier. He just decided to charge it on his card. If he really needed to he could just beg for money later...

The unenthused attendant handed him two tickets and insisted that the line keep moving. "Here you go!" He handed you the ticket, a little damp from...hand sweat? He really had to get that clamminess problem checked out.

"You know, we don't have to do this you know." You placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. That's when he noticed a group of kids enter the house. 'Even babies can do this thing, there's no way that I can back out now...' he thought.

"No, really! I'm fine! I'm the one that suggested this place, remember?" He gave a shaky smile, grabbing your arm and pulling you up towards the entrance. You were greeted by another employee dressed in a witch's costume. They were telling you the rules of the haunted house, but all that you could focus on were Josuke's expressions, which could be caught out of the corner of your eye. He looked nervous and was terrible at hiding it.

After the brief explanation was over you were waiting in a short line to enter. "Remember, you can hold my hand if you start to get scared," Josuke whispered. You instinctively intertwined your fingers with his and squeezed. It would make him feel better.

The attendant creaked open the doors when you were at the front of the line, "Okay guys, it's your turn! Don't get too freaked out!" You smiled and thanked them for their patronage; it was the least you could do. They've probably had to repeat their lines thousands of times over at this point.

You started to walk, but your hand that was connected to your boyfriend's was met with some resistance. "C'mon, it's our turn!" He merely gulped and nodded in response, his legs betraying him as he began to move forward.

The interior was a little creepy, and the eerie music combined with the fog machines was certainly adding to the spooky atmosphere. You hadn't encountered any actors yet, but it would only be a matter of time.

As if on cue the wall peeled back to reveal a frightening looking animatronic rat. It lunged towards you and caressed Josuke's arm in a way that could be described as anything but pleasant. He tensed up, his eyes wide.

"You okay? It's just a fake rat!" You wanted to laugh but maintained your composure for his sake. After walking through the passageways a little further a couple of other fake items jumped in your way. After the second time this happened, Josuke mumbled something about wanting to stay close and you happily complied.  

The breaking point came when an actor dressed in a black cloak was stealthily approaching from behind. Neither of you had noticed until he decided to manically laugh right behind you, only a little more than an arm's length away.

Josuke took the opportunity to cower behind you; you had become his human shield. You just gave the actor a look of surprise, and he quickly diverted his attention to the scaredy-cat of a man peeking over your shoulder.

"Why so afraid?" the man kept repeating, and you were thoroughly amused as the two began a chase in circles around you.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Josuke raised his voice, careful not to scream. Another actor appeared, and it was now a 2 on 1 battle. You couldn't help the small giggles that escaped your lips as your boyfriend was frantically running around the hallway now, flailing his arms.

"OOGA BOOGA!" the other actor screamed, and Josuke let out a high pitched scream.

"Y/N I'M GONNA PUNCH HIM." You ran up to him to make sure that you weren't going to have a lawsuit on your hands.

"Josuke, no!" You cried, interlocking your arm with his. You offered a 'Happy Halloween!' complete with an apologetic smile as you rushed him through the rest of the attraction. The other actors must have heard the screaming from earlier because they didn't pay much attention to you.

Once you could feel the cool, night air, Josuke breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, I'm sorry about that Y/N, I didn't mean to-"

He was cut off mid-sentence by your arms wrapping around him tightly. You squeezed the life out of him before looking up at him, "You're adorable, you really are." He blushed, resorting to his pouting expression. "If you were afraid you could have just told me! I would have been more than comfortable with just cuddling and watching movies back at my place."

Those words sounded quite familiar to Josuke. Damn Koichi, he was always right.

"I know, I just thought it would be fun! I guess I realized that haunted houses aren't for me. I can be macho in other ways, though-" He hoisted you up into the air and you squealed. "We're getting snacks and going back to your place."

"Okay, sounds like a plan." You smiled, taking advantage of the awkward position that you were in to pull out your phone. ------- Meanwhile, at the Hirose household, Koichi was in the midst of completing his movie marathon with Yukako. Various candy wrappers surrounded them and both had clearly eaten too much for the night. Although the sugar gave them energy for a brief while, both could begin to feel the crash from their high, slowly drifting to sleep on the couch.

A vibration from his phone on the coffee table brought him out of his coma momentarily. He wiggled out of Yukako's tight embrace and picked up his phone, bringing it with him back into the comfort of her arms.

The message from you read: 'yeah, josuke totally chickened out at the haunted house, but i would expect nothing less from my big baby. you can yell at him when you see him later. let's have another double date soon! :D -Y/N'

"I knew it," he weakly smiled before putting his phone back down and drifting off to sleep for the night. Koichi could now sleep soundly knowing that he was right.

#happy halloweeeeeeen #hehehehe #ooga booga as they say #Josuke Higashikata #josuke x reader #josuke higashikata x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jojos bizzare adventure x reader #jojo #jjba #jjba x reader #i just want to hug him #also koichi knows best

[sandysmoved]

(Happy Valentine’s Day gay ppl Beffica is sad and I for one think if she fell in love with my OC maybe she wouldn’t be so sad LETS GO LESBIANS)

“Isn’t it SO sad that I call you Bestie?”

Saffi glared at her journal like a mean eye would make the words write themselves, chewing on the end of her pencil harshly. Then, she thought about how long it had been since she’d had more than sauce and foraged plants to eat, and hastily switched to nibbling on her candy necklace, lest she end up developing a taste for wood.

“Haha, I, like, barely know you.”

Behind her, Sprout continued to chant his muffled little babbling, running in circles on the cot like a cat getting ready to settle down. It would be adorable (oh hell, it WAS adorable), if it wasn’t just another distraction bouncing around in her head.

The notes. The maps. The tracks. A missing explorer, and her not-so-missing girlfriend. That thing standing on the cliffs, watching from the treeline. What did it all mean?

“And if I DID get to know you, you’d probably hate me for it.”

Okay Saffi. Deep breaths. You’re smart. You’re good at mysteries. Misplaced mascots aside. Keep it together.

Her pencil refused to cooperate though, continuing to idly shade strands of a violet ponytail in a graphite monochrome.

“Oh well, enjoy it while it lasts, Beffy.”

“UGH.”

Saffi slammed her head on the desk, the pounding in her brain drowning out the concerned chattering of the captive Strabby skittering around the floor.

“This sucks. This sucks so big.”

She wasn’t gonna get any work done like this. She could barely even sit still, her foot tapping out an idle tune (get up everybody, come on and do the wiggle with meee) as she slammed her journal shut. Saffi hummed around her pencil (god, she really WAS going to acquire a taste for it at this point) as she leaned back in her chair and pulled her hair back up into her scrunchie. It wasn’t too terribly late, only a half hour or so after sunset maybe. Surely someone in town would have a request, or maybe she could try hunting down that annoying Noodler for Floofty again. Nothing burned off manic energy like actually getting set on fire accidentally.

“Isn’t it SO sad that I call you Bestie?”

...no. That could wait. Saffi had something more important to do right now, and she had an idea how she was going to do it. She spun in her chair, kicking open the box under her cot, and slid off onto the floor to dig through its contents, tugging an old, worn album from underneath a tangle of useless stuff.

“Haha, I, like, barely know you.”

Well then. Time to fix that.

~*~

Beffica sighed, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes as she idly traced lines in the dirt with a stick. This sucked. This sucked REALLY BIG, actually. It would probably suck a little smaller if she wasn’t sitting on a cold hard stone threshold, but like hell was she gonna join the others by the fire when Cromdo was over there, being all...loud. And old. And Cromdo. The squeeb. She probably would’ve gone and wandered idly around the huts, maybe looked at Wiggle’s records again, but she wasn’t in the mood to get yelled at if she came back early.

Or she could go up to the airship, but...no. After that...super uncool moment she’d let slip earlier, she wouldn’t be surprised if Saffi wasn’t too interested in hanging out. Hell, she’d rather go back to the stupid cave right now, than-

Grass crunched underfoot, and Beffica glanced up, blinking in surprise at the sunset orange grumpus standing at her door. Saffi glanced down at her, her expression...odd, in the flickering firelight across the way. Her fingers drummed a bit (nervously?) on the surface of the book she was holding, before they stilled, and she took a deep breath, blinking.

Beffica opened her mouth to say...well, she didn’t know, and she didn’t have the chance to know, because Saffi beat her to it.

“I know...I know it’s...scary.”

She paused, like she was trying to remember the meaning of the words her brain had shoved out prematurely, and for once, Beffica didn’t have a response. Instead, she sat up a bit straighter, watching Saffi find the thread to explain. Patience wasn’t exactly a virtue that came naturally to her. Maybe that’s why she had been so bad at her job, in the end. Maybe that’s why she’d been so bad at a lot of things. But for some reason, in this particular instance? She was willing to wait a lifetime to find out what Saffi had to say.

“It’s scary, being known. Letting yourself be known. And that’s okay! It’s okay to be afraid. But…”

Here it comes.

Beffica flinched without meaning too, and she hoped Saffi didn’t see it. She didn’t need to look any more pathetic than she already had earlier.

Did you enjoy it, Beffy? Was it fun while it lasted? Would you do better if you could do it all over again? Not like it matters, you can’t-

“But, if I’m your bestie…and I really, REALLY like being your bestie, for the record...then maybe...I think you should at least know me.”

Beffica froze, staring up at Saffi with eyes so wide she felt like they’d pop out and roll away. What? Pardon, what?

Saffi looked down at the book, cracking it open and tracing some of the dusty contents with her eyes, suddenly very aware of how known she was offering to be.

“If. If you want to,” she murmured, suddenly looking very, very small.

And Beffica still had no words. What could she say? What could she possibly say in response to something like this? She hadn’t rehearsed for this moment (and clearly, neither had Saffi), she’d never had any preparation for this. This wasn’t a tasty morsel of information hiding under someone’s bed, a secret to be uncovered hiding behind a tree in the middle of the night. This was knowledge offered. This was someone being vulnerable, and willingly. This was sharing.

With Beffica, of all grumps.

She didn’t know what to say.

So instead, she scooted over, patting the empty space next to her in the doorway, and Saffi’s doubts visibly melted from her posture like snow from a rooftop. She plopped down unceremoniously, cracking the old album open on her knee, and Beffica didn’t hesitate to lean in close to watch her fingers trace the page to tap an old photo. “See, that’s me when I was a toddler, I spent the summer with my grandparents, and-“

Beffica couldn’t tell what the sound that escaped her throat at the sight was; kinda groan and kinda laugh. “Oh my GRUMP, bestie, no offense, but who in the world let you leave the house with your hair chopped up like that?”

“I know, right? My grandmother, bless her cotton socks but that woman should NOT have been legally allowed with ten yards of kitchen scissors-“

Saffi launched into the story like it was the easiest thing in the world, like she was reading off the latest big scoop, instead of inviting someone she’d only known a few weeks into the treasure chest of her life. Every story was like that, every explanation for why her clothes were so oversized and mismatched, or who gave her that particular stuffed animal. And not once, not once did she try to prod Beffica to contribute her own anecdote, back her into a conversational corner that could only end in an unwanted revelation, or a total shutdown.

It was...nice. Comfortable. Listening to her talk. Getting to know Saffironica Snakattak (“Only my granny calls me that, though. Granny and Floofty. The rest of you should all call me Saffi.”) as more than just the bright-eyed journalist who fell out of the sky and started pulling everyone back together in her orbit.

And if Beffica leaned in a little more with each tale? For a closer look? To hear better? To rest her head against Saffi’s arm as the night grew chilly?

Who had to know?

#bugsnax #beffica winklesnoot #bugsnax buddy #bugsnax journalist #bugsnax beffica #OC #my writing #they’re lesbians Cromdo

[detectiveidiotboy]

His Time In The Commonwealth III: Deacon's Story

so as my beloved fanfiction, The Black Widow’s Waltz, comes to an end, i’ve decided that i am going to re-release the backstory chapters as their own stand-alone fic, since they read well as their own story. before that, i thought i might do a fun little thing where i release each of the companions backstories as their own post here on tumblr under the tag #his time in the commonwealth.

it is now time for part three of this little mini series i have. now that we’ve seen what happened to nick, let’s see how good ol’ deacon ended up where he is...

Deacon stood in the center of the burning remains of the Mercer Safehouse, staring at the man who set the place on fire not two hours earlier. The arsonist's back was turned, cropped black hair shining in the red-and-yellow flashes of the house fire. A woman crawled out from the debris - a synth who’d arrived just weeks before. She was shouldering a sobbing agent with cracked, bloody glasses and leg twisted backward. The man raised his rifle and gunned the two women down with an honest-to-god smile on his face.

Nate, you are one fucked up guy, Deacon thought as he stepped over the burning remains of an agent trapped under a beam.

“Deacon? Is that you?” Nate turned, eyes shining against the flames illuminating the light. “I thought I’d run into you sooner or later.”

“Yeah,” Deacon snarked, unstrapping his shotgun from his back, “I’ve been a little hard to pin down lately - Dez was always the one who assigned my ops in my downtime, but she’s been pretty distracted lately. You know, being dead ‘n all.”

“Morbid.” Nate chuckled. “I always did like your sense of humor.”

“I’ve been told I’m one hell of a comedian.”

Deacon pressed the barrel of his shotgun against Nate’s chest. The man stared at him, seeming far more interested than worried about the twelve gage of death aimed at his sternum. Nate was tough shit - but even he couldn’t survive getting all his organs blasted out by a point-blank shotgun round. At least, that was the hope Deacon clung to. “So, you wanna die here? Or is there somewhere else you want me to shoot you?”

“A surprisingly generous offer,” Nate said, lowering the gun with a finger, “but I’m afraid I have to decline. I have more important things to do than help you get some petty revenge.”

“Sorry, not happening,” Deacon cocked the gun, raising the barrel until it rested just beneath Nate’s chin. “Actually, you know what, nah - I’m not sorry at all.”

“I assumed not,” Nate said, raising his hands. “Fine, Deacon.” He said with a sigh. “If this is really how you want things to go, then shoot me - but wouldn’t you rather know why I’m doing what I’m doing?”

“Nope,” Deacon said as he blasted the fucker’s head off his body.

Except, that wasn’t entirely what happened. Nate stumbled back, almost fell over entirely, but despite the scattershot tearing through his throat just seconds before, his head was still stubbornly attached to his body. Nate laughed, slowly rolling his head forward until it was back on top of his shoulders, smiling widely. Deacon’s own vindictive smile dropped as he lowered the gun. “Shit… you really are immortal.” He said.

“That’s right,” Nate said in a sing-song voice. “Immortal and invulnerable. I’m basically the closest thing this world has to a god,”  He laughed as he took a step forward, and Deacon took one back. “Now, since your idea was a miserable failure, let’s try mine.” He said, stretching his legs on the tips of his toes and clasping his hands behind his back. “Don’t you want to hear the reason behind my supposed betrayal?”

Deacon answered Nate’s question by bashing the butt of his gun against the psychotic killer’s face. Nate, momentarily stunned, staggered to the side and Deacon was able to retreat back towards the woods that surrounded the safehouse. At the very least he could act as bait to lure Nate away from any possible survivors. It was the least he could do for them, since he was the one who brought their murderer into the fold.

All of this was Deacon’s fault; he’d accepted the risk when he brought Nate on board. Desdemona had told him it was a bad plan - hell, P.A.M had reservations about it. Deacon should have listened to the future-telling robot instead of trusting his own chronically poor judgment. It had just seemed too good to be true - a supposedly immortal killing machine who resented authority and had a major bone to pick with the Institute? It was like the Atom itself had popped down into the Commonwealth and built them a savior out of clay and nuclear ash. Deacon couldn’t have let an opportunity like that go - and really, he’d asked himself, what was the worst that could happen?

Apparently, the worst that could happen was that the Brotherhood of Steel made their little savior an offer he couldn’t refuse. Now Tom, Desdemona, Glory, P.A.M… hell even Cartington ! They were all gone. Deacon hadn’t been at the base at the time of the attack - Nate had seen to that. Told him to head over to Sanctuary for a surprise. Well, surprise! Everyone Deacon loved was dead. He didn’t know - nor did he care - why he was spared; the only thing that mattered now was putting a stop to Nate before even more lives were lost, both synth and human alike.

Deacon dodged and weaved through the trees. He could hear Nate following him not far behind. It wasn’t long before Deacon’s lungs were straining and each breath was like a stab in the chest - god dammit he was a spy , not a runner. His body was not designed for prolonged exercise. Deacon’s heart was beating in his throat by the time he was forced to slow down. He’d put some distance between him and Nate, but it wouldn’t last. Nate never exhausted, Deacon had seen evidence of that. His stamina was endless - must come standard as part of the whole ‘god among men’ package.

Deacon reached into his pocket and pressed down on a button. It was the last stealth boy he had, and it wasn’t entirely full. It gave him only a few seconds to breathe while he tried to figure out his next move. To his right there were woods, to his left… more woods, and in front of him was, as one might guess, a large expanse of woods. Deacon wasn’t nearly as familiar as he needed to be with this part of the Commonwealth, his basic mental map was insufficient for a midnight life-or-death sprint.

He had less than ten seconds left on the stealth boy. Deacon could hear Nate closing in, so he did the only thing he could think of and backed himself up against the bark of an irradiated tree. He pressed his lips together firmly as Nate wove through the clearing, head swinging back and forth like an attack dog. It was as if he was tracking Deacon down by the scent of his fear. Again, considering Nate's otherworldly nature, not entirely out of the realm of possibility.

“I know you’re here,” Nate said, a manic laugh following the words. He drew a silenced 10mm pistol from his jacket pocket, showing it off to the seemingly-empty clearing. “Recognize this, D?” He said. Deacon did - it was Tommy’s gun, Deliverer . The very same handgun that Deacon had gifted Nate on his official entry to the Railroad. “Seems poetic, don’t it? Whispers died hiding in the shadows, and now I’m gonna kill you while you’re curled up with a Stealth Boy in your pocket.”

Deacon lunged for Nate just as the effects of the stealth device wore off. He caught the man off guard, at least, wrapping both arms around him in a bearhug of death and tackling him to the ground. Deacon had no idea how he was going to kill his target if even a point-blank shot to the neck wasn’t enough to do it, but at the very least he was going to make Nate suffer .

Deacon grabbed Nate’s arm and yanked, using his foot to pin down the man’s back and dislocate the appendage with a swift movement. Nate choked on a cry - it was the first time Deacon had even seen the man externally express pain. Maybe it was the first time he’d ever been hurt - good. Deacon slammed the heel of his boot into the back of Nate’s head, aiming for the spine. Nate’s good hand darted up, snatching Deacon by the ankle and pulling him to the ground.

Suddenly, their positions were reversed, and Nate was on top of Deacon, pilling him down with the gun pressed to Deacon’s cheek. The dislocated arm was already back into place, its hand closed around Deacon’s neck and choking him. Deacon clawed at the fingers, trying to pry them off. Nate was unbelievably strong - even with how thin and nimble his fingers appeared they were perfectly capable of crushing Deacon’s windpipe.

“Tsk, how disappointing,” Nate muttered, probably to himself. Deacon snarled as the 10mm dug into his flesh. “I really did hope I would have a chance with you. You have such a pretty face.” Deacon felt the silenced barrel trail down his cheek and press against his left breast, “be a shame to ruin it.”

Six silenced shots rang out. Deacon seized as he felt the bullets slide through him, tearing his heart to ribbons. The delicate organ came to a spasming, sudden stop in his chest, and before Deacon realized what had happened he was dead.

Once the spy had stopped moving, Nate put the gun back into his pocket. Deacon's fists relaxed and fell away from the hand still clutching his throat. Nate's fingers lingered on the bruises he’d put on Deacon’s neck, savoring the feel of indents on the other’s flesh. Nate reached up and gently removed the sunglasses from the dead man’s face, folding them up and putting them in his pocket. “I never did understand how you could see out of these things when it was dark.”

Deacon’s eyes stared back at him, expression still caught between rage, terror, and agony. Nate frowned, reaching over to shut Deacon’s eyes for him. “Pity. You really were cute.” Nate leaned over and pressed a kiss to Deacon’s still warm cheek, then stood to leave.

Seconds after his heartbeat could no longer be detected, the auto-stimpack anklet Deacon was wearing deployed. There was no blood flow to carry the medicine through his system, but through the power of osmosis, defusion, and several other pre-war science words Deacon didn’t understand, the contents of a dozen stimpacks made it to the shredded remains of his heart. Veins reconstructed themselves, weaving together tissue and cells to produce a mass of blood vessels that would just barely manage to function as a pump. Five minutes after the drugs did their best to fix a literal broken heart, the taser went off, sending waves of electricity through the corpse of one Johnathan Deacon and starting up his pitiful excuse for a new heart.

The first breath Deacon took after dying was both the single best, and most painful breath of his entire life. The bright lights and sense of calm that death had brought him were replaced with an agony that the words ‘living hell’ didn’t even begin to touch. He couldn’t even scream, the pain in his chest consuming him so completely that all that was left were small, gasping whimpers as he curled onto his side and clawed at himself.

Every muscle burned as his body worked to repair the damage of going several minutes without breathing along with all the other things that were wrong with him. Nearly half a gallon of blood was misplaced in him, and there were still at least three of the six bullets still somewhere inside him pressed up against his recently revived nerves. Deacon’s vision went black and every muscle in his body was tensed. Part of him wondered how long this would last before he died again because there was no way he could be in this much pain without something being vitally wrong with him. The other, much larger part, trusted his friends’ genius and reminded him to wait the pain out.

“So, you guys want me to wear this thing?” Deacon said, holding up the ankle brace that had been given to him by Tom and Carrington. “Like, on my person?”

“Is something wrong with the design?” Tinker Tom asked, genuinely concerned.

“It’s kind of a fashion disaster,” Deacon said, fidgeting with the thick, untreated leather that made up the strap.

“It is a highly advanced revival device, not a fashion statement.” Dr. Carrington said with a roll of his eyes. “Since when have you cared about your appearance anyways?”

“Hey, my appearance is my life,” Deacon countered. “You should know - you’ve done, like, at least three of my face jobs.”

“Four,” Carrington corrected.

“It’s meant to be worn under your clothes anyways,” Tinker Tom said. “The design was my idea - Carrington’s work here is nothing short of genius, but if we wanted any practical use for this thing with our field agents we needed something easily concealed.”

“Easily concealed, right,” Deacon said as he snapped the brace around his leg. “Unless I want to wear shorts. Man, there goes my summer plans.”

“Would you at least try to take this seriously?” Carrington snapped. “This is just a prototype, but if we can verify that it works it could save the lives of countless agents. Unfortunately, the only way to test it is for one of our agents to become mortally wounded while wearing it.”

“And so you’re giving it to me? Gosh, guys, I’m honored, really.” Deacon placed a hand to his heart. “Voted most likely to die on a mission by his peers.”

“You are the one Dez assigns to the most dangerous operations,” Tinker Tom said with a shrug. “Don’t take it too personally. If anything, it means we want you around the most.”

Deacon couldn’t admit it, but that did make him feel a little warm in the chest area, but he and ‘genuine emotions’ hadn’t seen eye-to-eye in years, so Deacon gave his co-conspirators a wink and a smile and said, “Alright, but don’t expect me to run head-first into danger just to give you guys some data. If this thing actually works like you say it will, I’ll buy the first round of the night when I get back to the land of the living.”

“Hmfph,” Carrington huffed, predictably. Then, less predictably, he smiled and said. “I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

Deacon laughed as he came down from the high of agony that was recovering from a mortal chest wound, the sound pitiful and weak. The worst of the pain wasn't done yet, he could tell, this was just a short reprieve while his body geared up to continue its tantrum. “Carrington, you crazy bastard,” He muttered against the blood-soaked grass. “When I get to hell, remind me to buy you that drink.”

Deacon laughed and sobbed and spasmed until the sun was high in the sky.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout #fallout 4 fanfic #fallout 4 fanfiction #fo4 fanfic #fo4 fanfiction #fallout fanfic #fallout fanfiction #fallout deacon #deacon fallout #fallout 4 deacon #deacon fallout 4 #deacon #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #the black widow's waltz #his time in the commonwealth

[bumbleberrysky]

alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) | 03

pairing: gabriel x reader genre: soulmate au, canon divergent around s13, hurt/comfort, humour, future smut (probs) wc: 3.7k rating: sfw warnings: none really

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It’s something you’re destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you’d thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you’re suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you’d been brought here in the first place? Maybe…

Chuck works in mysterious ways after all.

prev. || next

“Well, whatever it says, we’re gonna have to wait until Cas and Dean get back before we can decipher it.”

You huff, sparing a glance to the angel huddled in the corner, resting his head against the drawers beside his bed. It’s been a few days since you’d first come back and you wish you could say you’ve had all sorts of good progress with Gabriel, but the truth is that you haven’t. He has receded so far into himself that a part of you is actually worried the archangel you knew is gone completely.

“I’m a bit worried,” you admit quietly to Sam after a moment. He turns his gaze to you and you hold it. “He’s… he’s worse than I thought.”

And, put bluntly, you’d thought he was bad.

Sam doesn’t say anything, merely releases your gaze and turns to survey the room once more; the walls are plastered in a scrambled mess of what you can only guess is enochian. You’re not sure when Gabriel had the chance to do it, but you know that earlier you’d visited him to offer him a portion of his grace back and he’d refused, so you’d left and when you returned some time later the walls were like this.

“Did Dean say when they were going to be getting back?” you ask, wringing your hands.

“He didn’t respond to my text, so I can only assume he’s driving.” Sam huffed a laugh. “Cas forgot to charge his phone again so I can’t reach him either.”

You purse your lips, trying not to smile. Of course, it is the little things that Castiel forgets. Like that wireless technology needs charging, that Beyonce is too well known to be used as a cover name, and those straws that don’t always come with fast food drinks.

You’re about to speak when the faint sound of metal hitting metal echoes through the bunker, heavy footsteps on steel stairs following suit.

“Well, I guess that saves us asking,” you say, patting Sam on the arm as you move past. The two of you depart Gabriel’s room, sparing him one last concerned glance before you close the door behind you.

“I’m home! And I brought food!”

Yeah, that’s definitely Dean. You just hope Castiel came in with him so he can see his brother and read the scribble on the walls.

x     x

 The scribble, as Castiel informed you, is a thrilling account of Gabriel’s Story, so to speak. What happened to him after his so-called ‘death’, and you tuned out for a fair amount of it (mostly during the detailed recount of time spent with porn-stars in Monte Carlo) but heard the important bits, like how he was traded in to Asmodeus and what the Prince of Hell then proceeded to do to him for the years following.

It saddened you, despite it being largely something you already suspected if not knew.

After listening to Castiel read the enochian on the walls, you’d had to leave. Uncharacteristic of you, and Dean had given you an odd look as you passed him in the hallway, but you couldn’t spend another minute in there. You felt bile rising to the back of your throat.

You really don’t have an explanation for why you’re reacting so strongly, so viscerally, to everything that has to do with Gabriel. Like you’d affirmed earlier, you only really met and interacted with him a handful of times! You aren’t close with him, haven’t known him extensively—

So why do you have this gaping pit of loss and grief in your stomach, like you’ve lost a limb?

It doesn’t make sense, and you’re not sure if you can make it make sense, honestly. You’d like to be able to put it on the backburner too, but every time you try it just creeps its way back to the forefront of your mind. In a bid to distract yourself, you hole yourself up in your room for the rest of the day, marathoning whatever dumb show is on TV. If you’re lucky, the entertainment channel might have old reruns of Neighbours. That never fails to make you laugh with its exaggerated soapy drama.

To your disappointment, the only thing playing in a marathon fashion is Family Guy, and with a sigh you bundle up in your covers and resign yourself to the afternoon. Well, if you wanted to numb your brain then this result isn’t so bad after all.

You spend the rest of the afternoon in your room, and pass out at some indiscernible hour. When you wake next, it’s a ridiculously early hour of the next morning and the TV is still running. You have a cramp in your neck from your odd sleeping position, and you rub it with a scowl as you emerge from the blankets and turn off the TV. You slept way too long, and there’s no way you can get back to sleep now.

Begrudgingly, you slip from your bed and into a standing position, relishing in the stretch you feel as you lengthen your tight, tense limbs. The floor is cold against your feet but you’re too lazy to search for the slippers that came with your room and instead just go on your way. Destination: kitchen.

You feel like a ghost, wandering the silent halls of the bunker. Dean is most definitely passed out by this point, and Sam… well he’s probably asleep, but you wouldn’t bet on it. That psychopath could also be out jogging. You’re so zoned out that you don’t even realise you’ve reached the kitchen until you stub your toe on the doorframe.

“FUCK!” you curse, managing to restrain yourself from howling like a lunatic just barely, at the last second. You double over, heaving in a big breath. Of course it had to be the little toe—

“y/n? Are you alright?”

The low, gravelly tone that brushes your ears is familiar and always welcome. You stick your thumb up so Castiel doesn’t worry while you grasp your bearings. When you find your voice, you follow up the gesture with a squeaky, “Fine! Peachy.”

“I would remind you that I can tell when you are lying, but I don’t think you aimed to be very believable.”

You straighten, throwing Castiel a bright smile despite the pain still throbbing in your foot. You should have looked for the slippers—this is your hubris catching you slipping.

“Sorry Cas, I shouldn’t be sarcastic. I’m fine, but I think one of these days I’m gonna break my toe for real on that stupid doorframe.”

Unfortunately, this isn’t your first run-in with the doorway. If anyone asked, you would tell them that the design of the hallway is atrocious and that door is not where it’s meant to be. Well, it’s not where you expect it to be every time you come to the kitchen, and is clearly an obvious design flaw.

The angel lets out a soft noise of understanding, lips twitching in the ghost of a smile. “Perhaps. You don’t seem to have very good luck with doorframes.”

“Nope, I definitely do not,” you respond, shaking your foot out before moving over to the fridge and checking to see if Dean bought strawberries. A noise of delight escapes you as you find what you’re looking for, several punnets stacked in the back corner. Ah, and they say old dogs can’t learn new tricks—Dean is a very good learner with the proper motivation!

(Pavlov would be proud of you.)

Castiel has a smile on his face as he watches you remove one of the punnets, hopping up onto the bench facing him and flicking the plastic open. He approaches, movements fluid and calm, and for a few moments you sit in comfortable silence. He is the first to break it.

“y/n… are you alright?” At his repeated question you give him a confused look, and he hurries to elaborate. “I mean… with everything. With Gabriel. I noticed how you left, yesterday.”

Ah. Well, you knew that you hadn’t been subtle, but you hadn’t been sure whether anyone was going to question you on it. You munch on a berry as you think, gaze flicking to the side. You wouldn’t dream of telling Sam or Dean about the odd sensations you’d been feeling, despite the fact they knew how you’d reacted to the news of Gabriel’s death, but Castiel… you felt comfortable confiding this in him.

“Well… yes, and no.” You drop the top of the strawberry into the lid of the punnet and reach for another. “To be honest, I don’t really understand what is going on with me. It’s like… super overactive empathy. It just hurts, to see him that way. And it makes me sad, knowing what he went through. Painfully so.”

Castiel nods, light eyes on you as he listens attentively and with care. You chew through another two berries before continuing. “Hearing it straight from him—well, as straight from him as it could be, I suppose—it just got to be a bit much for me. I had to leave. It just… made me feel a bit sick, is all.”

The look on the angel’s face is pensive, and it’s as though you can see his mind whirring a mile a minute behind the sky of his eyes. “I see,” he murmurs, gaze flicking to the side as he thinks. “Well, you are a very kind soul, so I am not surprised by your empathy. Though, if it is affecting you so strongly…”

He pauses, eyes finding your own again. “If you feel ill again, come find me. I’ll help as much as I can.”

You smile at him, every moment as sincere as you’ve ever been. “Thanks, Cas. I really appreciate it.”

x     x

Sam must have done or said something to Gabriel while you were locked up in your room, because there seemed to be a sudden change in his progress.

For the better, you think. Well, you hope.

He was a little less withdrawn, a little less manic and fidgety. He still doesn’t really speak, and doesn’t react well to loud noises or sudden movements, but Sam told you he had spoken last night.

To correct him about calling the Monte Carlo porn-stars ‘hookers’, of course. You’d wanted to slam your head into the tile wall when you’d heard that.

The day passed quickly after your encounter with Castiel, and you spent it cleaning and polishing your weapons—you don’t want to go down as that one stupid hunter whose greatest folly was improper upkeep of her arsenal. Only when you’d polished your machete to a gleaming shine did you admit that it was likely time for a break. You thought it had only been a few hours, so when you wandered out and found that it was actually almost dinner time, you’d been pretty surprised.

Sam had run into you in the hallway and filled you in, and afterwards had insisted on accompanying you to the kitchen. It seems you spend a lot of your time there, now you think about it.

The large, industrial-feeling space is where you find yourself now, making a lazy stir-fry from pre-packaged vegetables and beef. You’d tasked Sam with cooking the rice since he’d insisted on lingering for conversation, and since you trust that he’s more capable than his brother you don’t bother checking on his progress.

“Castiel was worried when he first saw Gabriel, but after seeing the writing he’s happy because it means the Gabriel we know is still in there, somewhere.” Sam updates you from your side, sniffing and peering into the wok before you in mild interest. “That smells good. You sharing?”

“Maybe,” you answer him, giving him a sly look. “Depends… you got any of that guilt-free ice cream hiding in the freezer?”

Sam peers around to make sure his brother isn’t listening before nodding, “Back corner, behind the frozen berries. We got a deal?”

“Pleasure doing business with you, young Winchester,” you answer with a shake of his hand, putting on an accent for his benefit. He snorts, moving away to grab two bowls—good timing, you have to note, since the stir-fry is almost done. “Kind of sad you still have to hide it from Dean, though.”

“Are you kidding? He has a nose like a bloodhound for sweets,” Sam says, coming back with porcelain in tow. “Did I ever tell you about the time he found an industrial-size bag of Hershey’s kisses I bought? I hid it in the vents in the dustiest corner of the library, and he still found it. That was meant to last me months and he tore through it in a week.”

You blink, mildly impressed. You knew he had a sweet tooth but you didn’t know it was that bad. “Dude, get your brother some therapy.”

Sam snorts, muttering something about how it would be easier to herd cats and juggle at the same time. You’re distracted for the moment by an errant thought that filters across your mind at the mention of chocolates.

Gabriel, in his time spent as a trickster, developed quite the soft spot for them… could it…?

You stir the food before you once more before taking the wok off the heat, moving it to the wooden chopping board on the bench; Sam takes initiative and turns off the stove behind you, something you’re thankful for.

You’ll have to test your theory after dinner.

x     x

The chocolates and candies you’d left for Gabriel after you’d had your dinner are, to your delight, gone the next time you see him.

You’d placed them on a tray for him outside the room and knocked, letting him know you had left him something. Of course, after that no matter how much you wished to stay you forced yourself to be on your merry way so he could retrieve them in peace. The rest of the night had been spent arguing with Dean about the proper name a werewolf-vampire hybrid should be called—not because you have an important opinion on the matter, of course, but because Dean gets very fired up about the subject and it’s very funny to behold.

Back to the point, when you’d returned on your trip past Gabriel’s room this morning (on your way to the kitchen, as anyone would expect), the tray had been placed neatly to the side with the wrappers twisted into the shape of a big, shiny bow. Kind of impressive, especially since you have no idea how he got them to stay stuck together like that.

It made you happy, though, that he’d eaten them. Angels don’t need to eat, of course, but he’d seemed to develop a taste for them ever since adopting the mask of Loki so you thought it might help make him feel a little more like himself.

You try not to think about it too much because it actually makes you a bit embarrassed— why are you so invested? You don’t quite want to know.

Currently, you’re settled in the library with your legs crossed and a tome on celestial beings in your lap. By your side is a plate of celery and a jar of peanut butter, and Dean, who is seated at the oak table with Castiel across from him, is giving you periodic looks of disgust and twisted curiosity. He’d started off attempting to read up on some monster—you suspected it was Werepires, after last night’s argument—while Sam popped off to the store for groceries, since Mary and Jack were meant to be returning tonight. The keyword to note here is attempting; each crunch of celery between your teeth yanks his gaze from the book to you and you can tell its wearing on him. Castiel says nothing, having discovered candy crush on his phone earlier, and merely glances between the two of you every now and then with a faint look of amusement.

“Alright,” He finally breaks after your third stick of celery, giving it a look like it personally offends him. “How can you eat that? Just use a spoon if you like peanut butter so much.”

“What the fuck, ew,” you comment, chomping loudly before dipping the stick into the jar for another coating. “I hate peanut butter.”

“You’re sitting there practically eating it out of the jar!”

“I get cravings sometimes, Dean!” you throw back, somewhat defensively. “It’s like when people eat vegemite—no one likes it, but you get cravings for it, you know?”

“What—ew, no, I don’t know!” Dean’s face has now crumpled into a complete look of disgust at the mention of that particular spread, and he shudders as he regards you. “Every time you leave I almost forget what a freak you are, and then you come back and I’m reminded all over again.”

The way he says it has no bite whatsoever, and you flash him a grin. You don’t realise Castiel has even been paying attention until he speaks, the humour lacing his deadpan tone the only give-away that he’s teasing.

“That wasn’t very nice, Dean. You eat some weird things for a human yourself—like that greasy, fried dessert from the stall in the food festival we drove through.”

Dean at first looks like he wants to argue, but at Castiel’s example a flush of green instead washes over his features. “Ugh, god that was gross. Don’t ever let me buy before I try at a food market again, Cas.”

Castiel snorts softly, turning back to his phone, “You have my word.”

Dean seems to have forgotten he was shaming you for your celery topping, his attention now directed back to the book before him. His face is still kind of pale and you assume he is now adequately distracted enough for you to continue eating in peace. After consuming the rest of the celery in your hold, you go to turn back to your own book. It isn’t meant to be, though, because in the next second the familiar sound of the heavy metal bunker door creaking open splits the air and Sam’s bright voice follows after.

“We’re back! We brought fried chicken.”

You slam the lid back on the peanut butter, putting it on the plate with the celery and launching to your feet in record time, the book unfortunate collateral. It’s like you’re possessed as you zoom into the kitchen, stomach alive and stirring at the mention of chicken despite the fact you’d already been eating.

Upon entry to the kitchen, you’re faced with two new people you have yet to be introduced to—considering you’re familiar with most of Sam and Dean’s other contacts by this point in your friendship, you presume that these two must be Jack and Mary, the Nephilim and the Winchester brother’s resurrected mother, respectively.

“Hello!” you greet, darting forward to help Sam with the food. He gives you a look that tells you he knows exactly why you’d come to help and gives you the bag full of groceries instead of the one with chicken, just to spite you. Your face falls into a pout but your voice is still cheery as you continue, “I’m y/n, I hunt with Dean off and on.”

Both of their faces light in recognition, and you realise that your reputation has preceded you. Exactly which reputation depends on which brother mentioned you—you imagine Dean would have had some very interesting comments to add.

“Hello,” the woman, Mary, speaks, and you’re taken aback by how soft-spoken she seems in contrast with the badass aura and get-up she’s got going on. You’re a little surprised to see her, considering she’s the same age as you presume she would have been when Sam was a baby. “I’m Mary, I’m sure you’ve heard about me. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and… thank you for looking after my boys over the years.”

You beam a grin and it must come across as a very shit-eating one because you hear Dean groan from the next room over as he ambles to join the crowd in the kitchen.

“Don’t encourage her,” he says gruffly as he enters the kitchen, hugging his mother and ruffling Jack’s hair before following his nose to the bag with the chicken in it. “She’ll never let it go.”

“I’m Jack!” Your attention is torn from the previous interaction and redirected to the youthful blonde man next to Mary, grinning at you brightly. “I’ve heard so much about you—it’s nice to finally meet you!”

“Oh, you’ve heard about me?” you can’t help yourself from asking, and you hear Dean’s groan echo behind you. “All good things, I hope.”

It’s a little unfair of you to be fishing in the Jack pond for little tidbits you can use to bully Dean later, considering he’s literally barely a year old and doesn’t really know better to keep his mouth shut, but it is what it is. The question left you out of habit more than anything.

“Oh, definitely,” Jack answers, going to help Mary the second he sees her struggle with a bag from the corner of his eyes, “Well, mostly. Dean—”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Dean interrupted loudly and pointedly, not-so-subtly holding his finger to his mouth to tell Jack to shut it. “Dinner time! Everyone into the library, we have a lot to catch up on.”

Begrudgingly you let it go and follow his directions. He has a point; there is definitely a lot of informing to be done, especially regarding the archangel in the room down the hall.

You take a seat and wait for your meal to be served. The night passes quickly from that point on, the brothers cracking out some beer and Dean snickering when you turn your nose up at it (bad experience, better not to remember it). You get to know Mary Winchester and Jack Kline a little better, and now with all of your heads put together you hope you can come up with a solution to the issues around Gabriel and his recovery.

Well, that and you’re going to see if you can get some good material out of Mary to tease the brothers with. When in Rome, after all!

prev. || next.

#supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfic #supernatural gabriel x reader #gabriel x reader #reader insert #spn fanfic #spn gabriel #gabriel x you #supernatural gabriel x you #supernatural soulmate au #soulmate au #wing fic #hhhhhhhh #supernatural au #supernatural series #gabriel series

[dontshootmespence]

Through It All

Part 17

Summary: Now married, Spencer & Y/N navigate the D/s lifestyle. How will their relationship change?

Words: 1,883

Warnings: Katoptronophilia (sex in front of a mirror), public masturbation, phone sex, p in v.

A/N: My next entry for @cm-kinkbingo run by my beautiful girlfriend @heycasbutt. This fills my katoptronophilia square.

Every single morning, you speak positivity into the bathroom mirror as per Spencer’s instructions. Some days it sticks and it feels real, and other days it feels like you’re speaking to someone else entirely, the message slipping past your lips and over your head before disappearing into thin air.

You look sadly at your skin and jiggly stomach, wrinkled and stretched, as you slip into your work clothes. Pregnancy added about 40 pounds to your frame and you’re still holding onto about 25 pounds of it. Slowly but surely it’s coming off, but it’s even harder to lose weight now that you’ve had Charlotte.

Spencer walks in from the bathroom and instantly notices you glancing into the full-length mirror near your bed. It’s vintage, stained wood and one of your favorite things, although lately not so much. “Hey,” he says softly, kissing your temple and tipping your chin toward him with his thumb and forefinger. “You’ll get there. And until then, you’re still the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“I love you,” you mumble, sleep pulling at the corners of your eyes. Charlotte’s been running a bit of a fever the past few days, so sleep is touch and go. “I’m getting there. Having more good days than bad ones, but I guess today’s a bad one.” The bad ones feel like fucking mountains. Traversing them without Spencer would be a nightmare, but thankfully that’s not your reality.

Spencer presses his lips to yours and for a blissful moment, you forget how you feel about yourself and get lost in him. “Hey,” he says. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as his lips ghost the corners of your mouth, peppering kisses over your lips and nose. “How about we have some fun today?”

“We have work,” you laugh, slipping your hands around his waist under the suit jacket he’s wearing. His warmth is so inviting. All you want to do is stay here for eternity, but...life. “You have something in mind beforehand?”

Snickering, Spencer pulls you into a heady kiss and steps away. “We barely have five minutes and even I’m not that good under pressure-”

“Don’t underestimate yourself.” You smile into his neck, remembering all the times, both past and recent past that he’s had you quaking in minutes.

“Well, thank you love. But I was actually thinking at work.”

You raise an eyebrow, inviting him to tell you whatever he has in mind.

“You have lunch at 1, right?” When you nod, he continues, his smile almost sinister. “Good, make sure you answer your phone at one.”

With that, he walks out the door, not looking back, leaving you in a perpetual state of anticipation until he decides to put you out of your misery. It feels like old times.

---

The hours at work either slip by or feel like they’re passing into eternity. Sometimes, you glance at the clock in the corner of the computer screen and a half hour has passed. Other times, you feel like you’re sitting at school, staring at the clock, begging for the hands to move. As you work, it’s difficult to keep your mind focused. Mainly because it’s too busy running through the plethora of different scenarios Spencer could have planned for you.

The whirlwind of thoughts has you clenching your legs at your desk, slowly pushing back and forth against the chair in search of some kind of relief; but it’s a joke. There’s nothing there and you aren’t about to touch yourself without Spencer’s instructions; them coming from him is what makes it so fulfilling. Finally, the clock hits 1:00 PM and you excuse yourself for lunch, staring impatiently at your phone, waiting for Spence’s name to pop up.

“Hey, Spence,” you say eagerly. “We meeting up somewhere?” You can’t wait. Maybe a quickie up against your office building? Sex in the car?

“No.” He speaks coolly. “Go to the bathroom.”

Your legs tremble slightly at the smoothness of his tone. You whisper in reply. “Yes, Sir.”

Once inside one of the stalls, you tune out everyone walking in and out and focus on the frantic thudding of your own heart. “Sir?”

“Undo the buttons on your pants, touch yourself and then take a picture.  I want to see how wet you are.”

A million questions come to mind. Where is he right now? Is he touching himself too? Breathing heavily into the phone, you do as he instructs, imagining him stroking his own length in his car in the University’s garage. “Hold the phone to your pretty pussy. Let me hear it.”

You bite back a high-pitched whimper and lower the phone to where you’re slipping your fingers against your slick folds. As your middle finger slides against your clit, you hear the wet sound and feel a flush of embarrassment. What if one of your co-workers can hear you? Shakily, you pull the phone back up to your mouth. “Was that satisfactory, Sir?”

“Yes, love. Sounds like you’re sufficiently wet.”

“I am, Sir. I’ve been imagining this all morning.”

“Does this live up to expectations?”

“It exceeds them, Sir.”

“Good,” he replies. You can practically hear him straightening up in his seat, driven by the effect he has on you. “Keep touching yourself. Make yourself come right there in the stall like a good little slut.”

Blushing at his praise, you decide to get out of your head and embrace the task at hand, fluttering your fingers over your folds and clit, varying in speed and pressure until the mental image in your head becomes too much. “I wish these fingers were yours, Sir.”

“Imagine they are,” he says thickly. “Use your pointer and middle fingers. Imagine they’re mine sliding back and forth over your clit.”

Whimpering, you massage your sensitive bud and clench your thighs around your hand. “Sir, can I fuck myself on my fingers?” Your voice is barely audible, but he gives you permission. Slipping your fingers inside, you buck down into your own palm and fuck yourself. God, you wish it were Spencer. You wish he was here right now fucking you against the bathroom stall outside your office. “Should I come, Sir?”

“No,” he says dismissively, as if it’s obvious. “Remove your hand.”

With a whine, you do as you’re told and go to grab a piece of toilet paper to clean yourself off, but before you can, he tells you to FaceTime him. “Anyone there?” He mouths.

For a moment, you listen for the sound of running water or footsteps, but you hear nothing. “No, Sir.”

“Good, lick your fingers clean. I want to watch.”

Your pussy is quivering as you lift your fingers to your mouth, slowly licking each digit, lapping your tongue around and around without a thought, like a doll, until Spencer tells you to stop. When it comes to cleaning your arousal, you always aim to do a complete job. “Good girl,” he says with a smile. “I’ll see you tonight.”

You’re on edge, just short of manic. He’s not done with you yet.

And yet you have to go back to work.

Fuck.

---

Later that night, after Spencer prepares dinner and manages to get Charlotte to sleep, he meets you back outside at the kitchen table. “Strip,” he instructs. This is what you love. What you’ve missed. The ability to not question. Just do it.

Heat floods through you with that one word, your work clothes easily slipping from your body and onto the kitchen floor. You leave them in an unceremonious pile. Again, the blinds on the window are open, so someone could see you from the apartment building across the street. But you don’t care. All you care about is that you can feel yourself slipping into the submissive skin again, and it feels amazing, safe, right.

His fingers entwine with yours as he leads you into the bedroom, guiding you to kneel in the corner of the bed that faces your full-length mirror. He comes to kneel behind you. Instead of looking away, you confront your image, and settle on the look in Spencer’s eyes: reverence.

When his hands slide over your stomach, still a little jiggly, stretch marks forming where they hadn’t been before, you allow your hands to float over them. “Look at me.” Your gaze floats upward, his warm eyes penetrating. “This is where my baby was. In here. You carried her for nearly ten months.” He presses kisses to the back of your neck and in between your shoulder blades as he talks. “Your body might’ve changed. But it is no less perfect. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

For the first time in a while, you actually feel the words, deep down in your soul. He grabs your hands and guides them behind you, slipping both yours and his into his pants to push them down around his knees.

You close your eyes contentedly as your hands slip around his cock. He thrusts through them a few times before grasping your wrists between his hand and placing himself at your entrance with the other, sliding home as he pulls back on your arms.

As his cock fills you, you moan, reveling in the feel of him, hot and thick and strong. “Look up,” he demands softly. When you do, you see your eyes glazed over with lust, mirroring Spencer’s own, his hand gently settling around your neck to help hold you in place.

With every powerful thrust, your body shakes. Your mouth begins to drop open, spit pooling on your tongue. “Don’t swallow it. Let it come out. Watch how gorgeous you are.”

Everything else, the lingering scents from dinner, the soft sound of traffic outside, it all flows to the background of your mind, allowing his heavy breaths and your small whimpers to put you into a trance. “Fuck, fuck, fuck...Sir. I’m gonna come.”

“Who says you’re allowed?”

“No one, Sir.” You swallow the answer back as you beg your body not to betray you. “Please, Sir.”

“No.”

Spencer pulls you almost flush against his back, one arm sitting around your waist as the other travels down to your pussy. “Earlier, you said you wished your fingers were mine,” he says against the shell of your ear, his middle finger flicking against your oversensitive clit. “How does that feel? Look into the mirror and tell me.”

You stare at your reflection. It’s both unknown and familiar. With his cock filling you to the hilt, he holds you in place, lips trailing over your neck as you speak. “Feels amazing, Sir. Will you make me come? Please?”

“Of course, love.” His fingers massage you, your pussy pushing forward against him. “Just look at your reflection when you do. If I see you looking away, I’m going to edge you at least four times.”

“Yes. Sir. I will. I promise.”

Low thrusts and his fluttering fingers quickly cause your body to buck against him, your orgasm building from the depths of your toes and rolling forward. As promised, you ask permission, watching with captivated eyes as your body shakes.

“Don’t you look beautiful, love?” He asks, pulling your hair back from where it had curtained in front of your eyes.

It’s so easy to say. “Yes, Sir.”

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #through it all #the most natural thing in the world #dontshootmespence

[strangeradventuresofp]

emotions (klaus x reader)

Man on the Moon - 4

warnings : swearing, character death, smoking, mentions of kidnapping

word count : 3612

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

On the 12th hour of the first day of October, 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

He got eight of them.

~~~

“Where the hell is Five? Those bastards were looking for him and they took Klaus instead.” Diego watched you as you paced around in your room, fists clenched. “I should’ve killed both of them when I had the chance.” Rage seeped throughout your body but you knew you had to try to keep a lid on it; you didn’t want to go on a rampage because you couldn’t control it. Eventually your eyes fell on Diego, who was sat on your bed, twiddling one of his knives around in his fingers.

“Are you gonna say anything or not? I might as well be talking to a brick fucking wall at this point.”

“I’m thinking.” Your brother replied very bluntly.

“About what?” Your tone was aggressive and you knew it, but you knew that Diego wouldn’t think your anger was targeted at him. He understood.

“About how we’re gonna murder those bastards and get our brother back.” You smiled slightly at his response, manic thoughts swimming around your head that you tried to keep at bay for the time being.

“I’m so glad we’re on the same page.” Diego wrapped at arm around your shoulders as you took a seat beside him and he gripped his knife hard in his gloved hand and he looked at you, a look you couldn’t exactly distinguish, through his dark, hooded eyes. The silence and the look shared between the two of you ensured that you understood each other.

Sighing, you looked down at your hands, picking at your fingers as you thought about Klaus. You were still mad at him even though he apologised, but you prayed he would be okay nonetheless. You would do anything to make sure that he got back to you safe and to just be able to hug him and see him again. If they even dared to hurt him, you would make sure of it that both of them got what they deserved and nothing less.

“We’ll find him, okay?” Diego rubbed your shoulder gently and you nodded, looking at him and tilting your head slightly, afraid to ask about the night before, with your Mother. “What is it?”

“Are you… okay? You know, about Mom.” Your brother took a sharp breath before looking at you. He always tried to hide his true feelings and he was absolutely terrible at it. You knew the next words out of his mouth would be a lie as he smiled, being able to mask the pain on his face but not the pain in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Before you could say anything else, a loud thump came from one of the other bedrooms along the corridor and the two of you stood, moving along the hall to see where it came from. You could faintly hear Pogo’s voice behind one of the doors and stood there for a minute to listen at the conversation that was occurring within.

“Like I said, Master Luther, Number Five hasn’t lived in this room since he was a boy.”

“Yeah, I know, but we need to warn him. He doesn’t even know we were attacked. He doesn’t know they’re looking for him, he doesn’t know—“

“What are you doing in here?” Diego pushed the door open, eyeing Luther as he rooted through Five’s stuff in his drawers, brows knit together. You leaned against the door frame, crossing your arms over your chest as you raised an eyebrow at him. Number One frowned as he looked up at Diego, standing up, shifting uncomfortably in his place.

“Uh… Do you know about Mom?” He asked hesitantly, looking between the two of you, nodding at you in response when you mouthed a yes. His eyes flicked over to the boy stood beside you.

“Well, it looks like you got what you wanted, one way or another, right?” Rolling your eyes at him, you looked back over to Luther, smiling at Pogo when he caught your eye, which he returned politely.

“Wanna tell me what you’re doing here?”

“Looking for Five.”

“Oh, let me guess, you’re gonna save the day.” You pinched between your eyes in frustration, looking to the floor and sighing when they continued to feud. Quickly, you turned on your heel and walked out, unable to cope with their nonsense today. You needed to find Five. If you warned him about the intruders maybe he would have an idea about where they were and you could find Klaus. Right now, that’s all that mattered to you. Your feet echoed as you stepped down the stairs into the lobby, waiting for Diego and Luther to catch up with you when they had finished their squabbling. It wasn’t long before you heard them walking along the hallway and coming down the stairs.

“I say we ask around the streets, see if people have seen him.”

“Oh, and say what? Have you seen a boy about this tall in a strange looking uniform? Yeah, he’s a lippy little shit, that’s him!” Diego mocked.

“So, what, you have a better idea?”

“Why don’t we just go to the building and see if he’s still there?” Your brothers looked at you, as if you had just had the best idea ever and soon enough, the three of you were walking down the streets, looking out for the van that you and Five were in the day previous. As you walked up the road leading to the Meritech building, your eyes widened when you noticed the plumbing van, jogging up to it as Luther confirmed it was the van you were looking for. Luther tried the doors before Diego smirked, cheating the locks with his knife and you hopped in to the van, waiting for the two to join you.

Once all of you were inside, you grabbed the duffel bag, picking up a random book and searching through it, starting to read his notes just as Diego whistled, pointing to the page he had opened.

“I know where to find Five.”

Your mind wondered off to thinking about Klaus again, smiling as you remembered all of the time you had spent with each other. When you moved out and bought your own apartment, he had stayed with you for a while, sharing your bed with you. It was an understatement to say the two of you were intimate. You shared various ‘I love you’s and although you were never official, you were pretty much dating. Sometimes when he would go out, he wouldn’t come back until the morning. He tended to couch surf, but he always came back to you. Except one time, he didn’t.

~~~

Pretty soon, you pulled up short to the Argyle Library, wasting no time at all to start searching for the boy, rolling your eyes when your brothers started talking about what they earlier, groaning. You thought that if you rolled your eyes anymore they would probably fall out.

Something stopped your train of thought quite quickly. A woman’s voice, talking about a child and numerous giggles in the background. Your brows furrowed and you moved around a few corners, weaving around the people until you saw it. Five, sat up against the wall, in a deep sleep. His arm was slung around Delores and he held a bottle of alcohol in the same hand. He was surrounded by markings on the wall and notebooks spread out in front of him and you sighed, looking at Diego.

~~~

The three of you, plus Delores and a very drunk Five, turned down a secluded alleyway that was barely lit up by the streetlights. The sound of your shoes on the wet pavement seemed to bounce off the tall walls of buildings that surrounded you.

“Well, we can’t go back to the house. It’s not secure. Those psychopaths could come back at any moment.” Nodding at Luther’s logic, you looked up to him, frowning when a thought popped into your head.

“Where are we taking him, then?” Luther didn’t seem to have an answer to your question, so you both instinctively turned to look at Diego.

“My place is closer. No one will look for him there.”

“Hopefully.” You added just as Five let out a belch that honestly sounded like he was going to throw up all down Number One.

“If you vomit on me…” Luther warned and you laughed, looking at the boy in his arms, a dazed smile plastered on his face.

“I’d pay money to see that.” Diego chuckled slightly at your words and Luther huffed, looking down at Five as he opened his mouth to speak.

“You know what’s funny? Aah! I’m going through puberty. Twice.” He scoffed, his face falling for a few seconds before he started giggling drunkenly. “I drank that whole bottle, didn’t I? That’s what you do when the world you love goes bye-bye. Poof, it’s gone.” Frowning, you assumed from what he had said that he hadn’t gotten anywhere with the eyeball, yet again and you let out a breath, wondering what he was planning to do next.

“What are you guys talkin’ about?” Five looked up at Luther, who sighed at the state of the boy in his arms.

“Two masked intruders attacked the Academy last night.” Your hands formed into fists at the thought of it.

“They came looking for you. So I need you to focus. What do they want?” Diego questioned and you chuckled. The police career obviously hadn’t worked out for him but he still acted professional, like this was his job.

“Hazel and Cha-Cha.” Five mumbled and your blood boiled, face twitching at the name reveals. You wanted nothing more than to get your hands on them. Deranged thoughts crossed your mind again as your brothers murmured between themselves before Diego raised his voice, clearly annoyed at the state that Five was in.

“Hey! I need you to focus. What do this Hazel and Cha-Cha want?” A smirk fell over the boy’s face when you all stopped walking and you started to get irritable, trying your hardest to calm your emotions before they spilled over. “We just wanna protect you.”

“Protect me? I don’t need your protection, Diego. Do you have any idea how many people I’ve killed? No. I’m the Four frickin’ Horsemen. The apocalypse is coming.” Five shifted uncomfortably before leaning over Luther’s arm, groaning as he threw up, a distasteful look slapping the carrier across the face.

Once you all resumed walking, a thought crossed Diego’s mind and he was unsure of whether to share it, but you caught on to the look and turned to him.

“What is it?”

“Why does he have a mannequin with no hair, no bottom half and one arm?”

“He found her in the apocalypse. She was the only thing he had so I guess she’s what kept him sane, as hard as it is to believe.” Shrugging, you looked back to the pavement ahead of you, continuing to follow Diego as he led you to where he lived.

Once you had become face to face with the building, Diego drug around in his pocket, pulling out his keys and unlocking the door. Walking through, you wished you could find a light switch but decided against it as his room was sure to be only steps away. He led you through the building to the back, where he used his key to unlock the door once again, hauling the door open with his shoulder.

You took a seat on the edge of Diego’s bed after Luther laid Five down on it. You sighed in frustration, staring at the barely conscious boy in pure annoyance, clenching your fists.

“Funny. If I didn’t know he was such a prick, I’d say he looks almost adorable in his sleep.” A breathy chuckle escaped your lips at Diego’s remark and you stood next to them, looking at the boy from a different angle.

“Well, don’t worry. He’ll sober up eventually.”

“He better.” You spat, glaring harsher before looking away, sighing. It wasn’t Five’s fault that Hazel and Cha-Cha took Klaus, although it sort of was. You couldn’t be mad at him, it wasn’t fair. Luther began to speak but was quickly silenced by your other brother when he pulled a knife out from the vest strapped to his chest. He moved next to the door and you noticed the noise that he had heard, footsteps drawing closer and closer to the room you were in. Your eyes lit up with a murderous intent as you moved your body into a fighting position, hoping it was either of the two psychos that tried to shoot you the night before. Diego opened the door and you were ready.

“You throw another one of those goddamn knives at me, I’m pressin’ charges.” You sighed, relaxing and Diego did the same when the random voice from outside called into the room.

“What do you want, Al?” Diego asked as the man stepped into the room after he opened the door wider. He smiled at you as he entered and you returned it respectfully, knowing him from when Diego taught you some boxing moves after you had left the academy.

“Some lady called for you, said she needs your help.”

“What lady?”

“I dunno. Some, uh, detective. Said her name was blotch or something.”

“Patch?” You questioned, locking eyes with Diego before he grabbed a card from Al, looking closely at it.

“She needs you to meet her at that motel, a dump on Calhoun about half an hour ago. Uh, said she found your brother.” Your eyes widened as Al walked out; tears flooding in your eyes as they locked with your brother’s once again, swallowing hard.

“Klaus.” Rushing to the door, not saying anything else, pushing past him, sprinting to the car parked outside. Swiftly, you moved to get into the passenger seat, not even bothering to clip your seatbelt in. Diego pulled open the car door and started it up, looking over to you. You would have looked back, but all you could think about was getting to Klaus and killing those sons of bitches who took him. Your eyes were fixed on the road ahead of you, clenching your jaw and fists, thinking of all the things you would do to those bastards for hurting him. Diego wrapped his hands around the wheel and the car started to move.

The drive was painfully long, despite the speed your brother drove at, rather irresponsibly. The silence was tense but you weren’t bothered, taking deep breaths to make sure you were ready, your hard stare not faltering a bit when you pulled into the car park of the motel. You stepped out quickly, moving around to Diego’s side, following him when he got out. The two of you stealthily tiptoes around the outside of the building, looking for a sign from the outside, but when you couldn’t see anything, you knew you had to look through every room.

Outside of each room, you peered in through the window, calling his name quietly and then listening hard to see if anything could be heard. Further along the balcony, one of the doors was open and you peered in, eyes widening at the scene in front of you.

“Oh, no. God, no, no, no, no!” Your voice broke on you and you bit your lip in an attempt to hold back the tears that pooled in your eyes but it was to no avail. You rushed to stand in front of the open the door, facing Diego who looked extremely concerned and was trying to look past you. “No, Diego, don’t!” Your sobs resonated in his ears when he pushed you to the side, tears starting to stream down his own cheeks whilst he ran over to the body lying on the ground, a pool of blood surrounding it.

“No, no, no, Eudora! No, no, no!” His fist made contact with the ground multiple times, whimpers escaping his mouth as he turned her body over. Patch was a good friend of yours. You didn’t see her often but she was always there for you and you for her. She had met you when she had come to visit Diego one time at the gym when he was training you. You were grateful that your friendship didn’t falter when she and Diego stopped seeing each other.

Your brother’s voice was drowned out of your ears, sirens taking its place instead. Turning around, you noticed blue and red lights fill the room, your eyes widening in response. Rushing over to Diego, you grabbed his arm, tugging it away from Eudora’s body but he refused.

“Diego, we have to go!” You cried, pulling hard on his arm but he wouldn’t give in. Grabbing his face in your hand, you forced him to look at you, your tear stained face matching his. “We need to go, right now.” You pulled him away from her body after he spoke to her one last time, running back down to the car you came from, getting into the driver’s seat this time. You knew Diego wasn’t in a fit state to drive, tears clouding his vision. You looked through misty eyes too, but you felt better about driving yourself and apparently so did Diego, getting into the passenger side without a word.

The drive seemed even longer than before, silence filling the air once again. You had wanted to hurt those people before, but now they had killed your friend as well a kidnapping Klaus.

Shit, Klaus.

He wasn’t at the motel. The thought had completely slipped your mind, but you gave yourself a pass considering you instead saw one of your good friends dead on the carpet, surrounded by a pool of her own blood and a gunshot wound through her chest. You swallowed, blinking rapidly to rid the image from your head before you glanced over to Diego.

“I’m sorry… About Patch.”

“Yeah, me too.” He sighed, staring at his hands before looking over to you. “I’m sorry about Klaus.”

“Me too.” A weak smile crept onto your face and your hands wrapped tighter around the wheel, letting your face fall after he looked away from you. Tears flooded your vision again and your grip on the wheel loosened a lot. It suddenly became extremely hard for you to control the wheel, feeling just a weak as you had been the day you realised Klaus was never coming back. Still, somehow you managed to drive you and Diego back to where he lived safely, which you were grateful to yourself for.

As you pulled the key out of the ignition, Diego took them from your hand and you shot a puzzled look at him before he stepped out of the car. He moved around to your side, opening the door for you and waiting for you to step out.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m goin’ for a drive. Wanna be alone. Clear my head.” You nodded once, stepping out of the car and hugging him tightly. He returned it, glad he had you.

“Don’t do anything stupid, okay? Promise me.”

“Promise.” Watching as he stepped into the car, closing the door, waving to him as he drove off. You sighed, fumbling about in your coat pockets, taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Plucking a cigarette from inside the box, you lit it quickly, taking a long drag from it before inhaling the smoke. You exhaled, repeating the actions until it was finished, throwing it to the ground and crushing it with your foot.

“Fuck it.” Your fingers grabbed for another cigarette and you chuffed on it again until it was finished. Smoking made you feel weak but sometimes it was needed. The relief a little thing like a cigarette gave you was incredible and you suddenly realised how much you could really do with a joint. You and Klaus would smoke together sometimes, when you were really stressed. God, you didn’t know if it was possible for you to miss a person so much. It hurt when he didn’t come back the first time, but that was his own fault. This time he had been taken from you and for some reason that made everything so much worse. It made you wonder if he would’ve stayed with you if he had the chance and you hoped to God that he did. Did he miss you as much as you missed him? Did he even care about being taken from you? Probably not, after the way you had treated him since you returned to the Academy. Your heart broke imagining that he would enjoy being away from you.

Your skin was burning up as your mind raced, anxiety swallowing up your body in an instant. Legs shaking, you took a sharp breath before finding your way back inside the building, holding onto anything you can to ensure that you have support if your legs give way under the pressure. You swallowed, wrapping your hand around the door handle to Diego’s room and pushing it open.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Your brothers rushed to help you in, sitting you down the bed beside Five and your eyes became full with tears again. “Y/N? What happened? Where’s Klaus?”

“He wasn’t there. We don’t know where he is, or if he’s even alive.”

my masterlist

#the umbrella academy #tua #the umbrella academy season 2 #tua s2 #tua season two #tua x reader #tua season 2 spoilers #tua s2 spoilers #the umbrella academy x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves #klaus x reader #tua season 2 #reader insert #x reader

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home - Ch 9

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 3168

Author’s Note: Coming up on the end. Hope you guys have enjoyed this ride as much as I did. One chapter to go after this. All my thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​, and @cracksinthewalls​ for all your magnificent help. Also, random, the theme song for this chapter is “These Dreams,” by Heart. Just for fun.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 9

Kimber’s hands fly up, clenching on the wrist in front of her throat, and the blade twitches in warning. Pain stings the side of her neck, her fingers contract, and a trickle of warmth drips down to her shoulder.

Before she can speak, Dean is in front of them, gun drawn and face murderous. 

“Let her go.”

Laughter, broken and mocking, shakes against her back. Kimber’s vision grays at the edges, and she forces herself to slow her breathing. She focuses on the sting of the cut, slamming her eyes shut to block out the fear she can read in Dean’s eyes. 

“She’s mine, can’t let her go. Just got her. Been lookin’ for so long. Her blood is mine, that’s the rule.” The witch’s voice goes from rough to reedy and back, pitch wobbling all over the place. “Gonna spill this pretty blood. You’re a hunter, you can help. Like she helped the other hunter. Spilled our blood. Took...took...”

Kimber shudders unconsciously, and the witch yanks her left arm back, fingernails digging into the flesh just above her elbow. A strangled yelp escapes her throat, and Kimber bites down on her lip. 

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“Back up,” the witch barks suddenly. Dean’s eyes flash, nostrils flaring, but he doesn’t move.

“Ain’t happening, asshole. Let her go. I’m not sayin’ it again.” The hammer clicks on Dean’s gun, and the witch adjusts his grip, pulling her more firmly in front of him. The knife presses again, slicing deeper this time, and Kimber‘s focus slips. The trickle becomes a steadier stream, and she opens her eyes to see Dean’s cheek twinge above his clenched jaw. 

He never lowers his aim as he steps carefully back. Kimber is shoved forward, knuckles white on the man’s wrist. Her heart thumps painfully against her ribs as she racks her brain.

I know this, I know what to do, I can get out of this, I can, I just-

“Good boy,” the witch says. The manic glee in his voice sets Kimber’s nerves on edge, clearing a little of the panic from her thoughts. “So good at taking directions. Much better than her. Shoulda taken you up on the roof, she coulda watched you jump. Would’ve been fun. So...fun.”

White-hot fury lances through her fear, burning the last traces of it from her mind, and she remembers exactly how to get out of this hold. She widens her eyes, mouth tight, staring a hole at Dean. It takes a second for him to turn his glaring attention from the witch, but he finally meets Kimber’s gaze.

She has never wished so hard in her life to be a telepath as she does right now.

Please understand, Dean, she thinks with all her might, her eyes flicking down and to the side before meeting his again. Please be ready. 

She can distract the witch, can get out of the way, but she can’t kill him, and she has no idea if he has another spell ready. They’ve got one chance.

“Gonna have some more fun with you two. Messy fun. Had fun with her friends, so many stairs, so many staples.” He holds the last word out, elongating it, and the hairs on Kimber’s neck stand on end. “Make you have fun with each other, gonna get messy. Don’t need a hex bag this time, can just-”

Kimber jerks down on the knife-wielding hand, pulling it towards her left hip. She ducks her head back and shoves her shoulder into the witch’s chest, knocking him off kilter. Her right hand arcs back, completing the circle and shoving the witch’s hand, knife and all, straight into his side. He throws his head back, howling, and a deafening bang fills the room. Pain explodes in Kimber’s ears, and the witch drops, a bullet hole in the center of his forehead.

Kimber blinks, her head spinning, and then Dean is in front of her, his hands holding the sides of her face steady. His mouth opens, he’s speaking, but she can’t hear anything over the clanging in her ears. 

Her eyes stray down to the body on the floor, waiting for it to move. They need to leave, need to get away while they can, but she can’t make her legs work right. Her knees are locked, and the room is swaying. 

No, that’s not right. She’s swaying. She should probably sit.

Then she’s on the bed, and Dean kneels down in front of her, pressing a cloth to the side of her neck. She sucks in a breath, and the pain shocks her brain back into focus. He speaks again, but she can’t understand him. 

“We have to go, he’s going to get back up-” But Dean holds up a hand, shaking his head and frowning. He opens his mouth again, sucking in a breath like he’s going to shout, but then stops. He lifts her hand to the cloth on her neck, indicating for her to hold pressure while he rises. 

He glances around and snatches a pad of paper and pen from the bedside table. He scribbles quickly and holds the pad up in front of her. Her eyebrows lift in amazement as she reads “witch killing bullets.” 

“Seriously?” He nods, then flips the paper and scribbles again.

“Not used to gunfire?” the pad says. She shakes her head, then immediately regrets the action. The room spins, and then Dean is supporting her, steadying her before she hits the floor. He holds her upright for a few moments until she regains her balance, then he waves to get her attention.

He tilts his head towards the door, eyebrows lifted. She closes her eyes, concentrating, and forces her legs to cooperate, pushing up until she’s able to walk unsteadily, leaning hard against Dean. She feels colder than the seasonal temperature calls for, and she shivers hard against him.

Shock, she realizes. Yeah, I’m pretty sure…

The next thing she knows, they’re in Dean’s car, and she’s leaning against the window, her cheek chilled and damp on the glass. Dean’s jacket is draped over her, and she can make out the rumble of the engine and Dean’s voice, responding to someone she can’t hear.

Phone? her worn out brain offers. She yawns, and a dull throb ripples through her ears instead of the usual popping. She winces, and a warm hand slides over hers. 

“Can you hear me, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah,” she says slowly, working her jaw carefully against the ache in her ear canals. “But it’s kind of muffled. Am I gonna need a hearing aid now?”

“No, honey,” he sighs, his relief mixed with exasperation. “One gunshot near your head, you’ll be fine. Wasn’t even a high enough caliber for concussive damage.”

“Oh.” She thinks for a minute, her brain still a little sluggish. “Can I go home, now, though? Because I’d really like to change clothes.” To her growing dismay, she realizes that one side of her is splattered with blood and...something else.

Not to mention her own blood staining her shoulder. Her shirt is definitely beyond saving.

“Sam, check out the motel, see if you can find a car or anything. Maybe we’ll get a clue about who this asshole actually was. I’ll check back in with you.” He disconnects the call and glances at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Think maybe we should get you some stitches for that cut.”

“I have butterfly bandages and pajamas at home,” she counters, feeling mulish. It has been a hell of a night, a hell of a week, and a hell of a month. Her stalker is dead, she’s feeling more disgusting by the second, and she wants to sleep for a year, at least. After the world’s hottest, longest shower, that is.

Dean frowns, his eyebrows drawing down as he prepares to dig his heels in. That’s when Kimber pulls out her trump card.

“I’ve got a Sara Lee deep dish apple pie in the freezer. Can have it hot out of the oven in about an hour.” She wants to laugh as Dean’s foot presses down on the accelerator, but she settles instead for leaning her leaden head on his shoulder and letting her eyes drift shut. The last thing she feels is his arm pulling her just a little closer.

“I got you.”

“I know.”

…

When they arrive at Kimber’s house, the first order of business is a shower (after putting the pie in the oven, of course). True to her earlier promise, Kimber scrubs every inch of Dean’s back, wishing distantly that she was in a better frame of mind to enjoy the experience. Really, though, neither of them are up for any more than tired smiles and rinsing of suds. 

She throws on the jeans and tshirt that are lying on top of her hamper, too thrashed to search for anything else. When they reconvene in the kitchen, the oven still shows eighteen minutes left on the timer. Though Dean took pains during their shower to carefully clean the cut on her neck, he insists on fully inspecting it in better lighting. She’s too worn out to argue, so she drags out her first aid kit and drops into a chair.

She’s surprised at how comfortable the silence between them is. He cleans the cut again with peroxide this time before smearing a thin line of antibiotic ointment. She thinks he mutters something about “dirty witches,” but she’s so tired at this point she doesn’t completely catch it. Her hearing is more or less back to normal, although she keeps having to shake off the sensation that there’s water in her ears.

“Sam’s back at the motel, checking to see if the guy had a car, anything to give us an idea of what his damage was.”

She nods slowly, thoughts swirling in one too many directions. “He said...something about another hunter, me helping another hunter. I checked my notes, though, I don’t…”

“He said a lot of crazy shit, guy was unhinged.” Dean’s voice is hard, his eyes tight as he places butterfly strips along the side of her neck. “Probably not the best idea to revisit all of it just now.”

Gonna have some more fun with you two. Messy fun.

Kimber’s stomach lurches, and saliva pools in the back of her mouth.

“Don’t you throw up on me, I just got clean. I’m not missing out on pie just ‘cause you can’t keep the contents of your stomach to yourself.”

She laughs, just as he intended, broken out of her toxic train of thought. 

“You’re right, I know you’re right. There’s much better things to think about tonight. We can go over all the gory details in the morning.” She raises her hand to stifle a yawn, and Dean catches her wrist, pulling her arm out straight to examine it. His eyebrows lower as he frowns at the line of crescent-shaped gouges on her arm just above her elbow.

“That was where he grabbed my arm. I guess his nails dug in?”

Dean actually clicks his tongue against his teeth and reaches for the peroxide again. When he glances up at her, she can’t hide her amusement from his observant eyes.

“What?” he asks, indignant. “Human fingernails are some of the filthiest things on the planet. And that guy was a witch, no telling what kinds of nasty he’s been diggin’ in. Now hush.”

“Yes, sir.”

The timer for the pie goes off a few minutes later, and Kimber makes the executive decision that a huge slice of shared apple pie with ice cream is more than enough of a balanced dinner for the two of them. She rinses off the plate in the sink while Dean cleans up the scraps from their impromptu doctoring. She sets the plate in the drying rack and turns to find him watching her, one corner of his mouth curled fondly.

“Bed?”

“Bed.”

She excuses herself to the bathroom to brush her teeth and slip into something a little more comfortable. She finishes by wrapping her bathrobe around her middle and tying the belt. When she enters the bedroom, she finds her comforter in a discreet pile on the far side of the room, and Dean reclining on the sheets, clad in nothing but his boxer briefs.

She opens her closet and pulls a spare blanket down from the top shelf. Dean slides off the bed, reaching out to take the blanket when his phone rings from the bedside table. She nods at the phone and shakes the blanket out while he answers.

“Sam found the guy’s car. Wants to know if you want to come check it out.” Dean raises his eyebrows at Kimber. She straightens and looks him dead in the eyes, then unties her robe and lets it drop from her shoulders to puddle around her feet.

His eyes widen, and his voice turns distracted. “Gonna pass tonight, Sam, but you save some of those juicy clues for us tomorrow, ‘kay?”

He hangs up, sets his phone on the bedside table, and turns the covers down. Then he throws himself onto the bed and holds his arms out to Kimber, his eyes sparkling.

“I have to say, Dr. Harper, I never imagined a distinguished college professor would own a set of pajamas like that.”

She switches off the light and slides into bed, her back fitting to his front, the last piece of a puzzle locking into place. His hands begin to roam over her fleece pants, exploring the soft material. She yawns again, letting her head loll back to rest against his collarbone.

“Gotta tell me where you managed to find Sasquatch pajamas; I know exactly what I need to get Sam for Christmas.”

She giggles through another yawn, then turns in his embrace. In the dim light of her room, the green of his eyes is lost to the darkness, but the faint smile on his lips...that she can see just fine. 

Their kiss is slow, soft, and sleepy, and she allows herself two more before settling into the crook of his neck. 

“Dean?”

“Mmm.” His voice is just as gone as hers. His fingers, having found their way under the edge of her pajama top, are stroking over the small of her back as he drifts off.

“Is this what it’s always like for you and Sam? For hunters?”

The quiet stretches on long enough that she thinks he’s fallen asleep, but then he shifts and clears his throat.

“Sometimes. Sometimes it’s better; easier cases, less gun shots, maybe a spell or two thrown around. But you know the lore, you work with hunters. It’s usually a lot worse.” He leaves his sentence there, obviously not willing to elaborate at the moment. 

“On the other hand,” he adds a minute later, his voice thick with fatigue and another emotion she’s sure she’d be able to place if she were properly awake, “I don’t get to end every hunt like this, so that definitely counts for something.”

It definitely does, she thinks. 

…

“You gotta pull the knife-hand towards your outside hip, then swing your head and shoulder at the same time, hit me hard as you can,” Dean coaxed patiently. They had spent most of sixth period study hall actually studying today, so Dean decided they needed to work on something else after school. 

During their second tutoring session, Kimber learned that despite his willingness to be tutored by a girl, he chafed a little at the concept of receiving said tutoring without offering anything in return, so he suggested showing her some self-defense moves.

“In case the star quarterback ever gets any ideas that you’re not cool with,” he grinned. She rolled her eyes but accepted his proposition anyway. It meant coming into close, physical contact with Dean, for one. And it never hurt to be prepared, after all.

They went through the move again, Dean holding a stick to her neck in place of the knife. He made her work through it until she could pull off the maneuver without the sting of bark on her skin, until she managed to jab the stick hard enough against his side for him to wince in real discomfort.

The pleased smile he turned on her as he clutched his ribs made her toes tingle.

“I don’t see me using this kind of a move anytime soon, but it’s definitely good to know,” she admitted, picking up her denim jacket. The days had begun cooling off lately, fall making its presence abundantly known, and she shivered in the breeze as she zipped all the way up to her collar.

“You never know,” he agreed. He picked up her backpack, hanging it over his shoulder. “You could be set upon by anything: a pickpocket, a bank robber, a lone vampire looking for a snack. There’s no telling when that move could help you.”

“I doubt the vampire part, or even the bank robber, but yeah. I know a couple of people who’ve been mugged who could’ve used your expert training.” He slung his free arm around her shoulder, and they headed across the park.

“There are all sorts of critters out there that could creep up on you,” he said, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Vamps are just one of a hundred, and one of the ones most likely to go for the neck.”

“One of a hundred,” she repeated. She was intrigued by the mention of monsters, had always loved reading old ghost stories and legends, but surely there couldn’t be that many monster stories in the world.

“I’ll trade you stories for pie,” he said. She shot him a skeptical glance, and he gave her an exaggerated, stern face. “I never joke about pie, and I know stories that would make your hair curl. Satisfaction guaranteed.”

“Okay,” she finally agreed. “But we’re talking at least three stories for one piece of pie.”

“Two stories and another self-defense lesson.”

Later on, as they stood outside her front door, she smiled shyly up at him, her cheeks warm despite the drop in temperature.

“I would have gotten you the pie just for another self-defense lesson,” she admitted, marveling at how he made her feel timid and brave all at once. His thumb brushed over her cheekbone, tucking a stray strand of hair out of his way. He pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth, not even long enough for her eyes to flutter shut. His smile, when he straightened, was soft and genuine.

“I would have traded the stories for the same.”

…

Kimber wakes, turning in Dean’s arms. It’s still dark out, nothing is out of place. She settles against him, her lips pressing against his collar bone.

“‘S’matter?” His words are slurred, muffled by her hair, and his arms tighten for a moment. She can feel the stretch rippling down the length of him, and that hidden spot in her chest spreads out, sending tendrils of soothing warmth through every part of her.

“Not a thing. Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

…

Chapter 10

#SPN #spn fic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #dean winchester #original character #original female character #Sam Winchester #teen dean #teen sam #teen winchesters #drama #romance #witchcraft #still no wizardry #angst #teen romance #high school romance #high school sweethearts #nearly done #yay fall

[teonjae]

dusk ‘til dawn

starring mark lee ft. other members of nct!

genre angst, fluff if you squint hard enough

words 3k

a/n this was lazily proofread (i’ll do it again tomorrow i promise) but i was kinda excited to post this ngl,,,it’s mark lee hours right now. have u guys seen the recent jcc?? mark and johnny were so cute pls. and i don’t know how to write fight scenes pls forgive me

mark’s footsteps echo through the old warehouse along with the others’, as they tread carefully in search of you. they walked in crouched positions — taeyong, johnny, and jaehyun right behind mark with their guns pointed to the ground. “hyuck, i need visual,” taeyong whispers through his earpiece.

“fuck,” haechan curses, “i can’t see anything. they covered up all the windows.” he moves his sniper around, looking through the scope in search of an open window or any sign of movement at all. he calls the attention of the others through his earpiece and says, “i’m gonna look for another spot. i can’t see anything here.”

mark nervously bites his lip as his grip on his pistol tightens. you were kidnapped by one of their rival gangs after they found out about your relationship with nct, especially mark. it didn’t help either that you were one of the youngest ceos who own a prosperous business. so they planned on blackmailing you to give them the capital that they needed with additional information on nct or else they would reveal to the public about your connections with one of the most notorious mafias in south korea. even if they left you with bruises that would take weeks to heal, letting you sleep on the cold ground with just your undergarments and barely giving you any food to eat, you stood your ground and refused to give up what your family’s company has ever worked hard for to some gang who just wanted revenge on your boyfriend and his friends.

“you aren’t gonna talk, will ya?,” a man who you assume to be the boss is says as he harshly grabs your chin, “even if i shoot a bullet through your head?,” you bite your tongue when you feel the tip of the gun pressing under your chin. you continue to glare at him with all the courage you can muster to show him that you’re not afraid at all, but the man in front of you smirks when he thinks otherwise. he lets you go aggressively and scoffs, annoyed at your persistence. “why don't we just kill her?,” one of the men standing in the room suggests. “not now,” he answers him, “let’s wait ‘til her boyfriend comes here.”

you pull yourself up from the ground shakily, your eyes widening at the boss’s last statement. “no,” you choke out, “i swear, if you ever lay a finger on him-“

“what? you’re gonna call your daddy and tell him what? to save your criminal boyfriend?,” the man is now once again in front of you, crouched down until your at eye level. “i bet you didn’t know, huh? that mark was part of nct. you fell for his good-boy act and now he got you roped into this mess. that’s what he’s good at.”

you shake your head at him, “it’s not his fault-“

“not his fault?,” he cuts you off again, “i doubt he doesn’t know what he’s getting you into because that kid is smart, y/n. he knows exactly what can happen if he hangs around someone like you. i’m not the only bad guy here,” he smiles mockingly at you, “you wanna know how many of my guys he’s killed? 1/3 of my team, y/n. and he did that alone.”

he hums when you stay silent, “he’s got you wrapped around his finger, i bet he and his friends leech off money from you but you never notice.” that was the last straw.

out of anger, you clench your fists and spit on him, your saliva landing right on his nose. “fucking bitch!,” he shouts as he punches you, its force flinging you to the ground. despite the pain, you snicker as you push yourself up again, lifting your head to look at how red the man’s face was becoming. you notice the metallic taste of blood on the corner of your lip and you feel another bruise starting to form on your cheek when a man busts into the room looking frantic, “boss!,” he whisper-shouts. “what’s wrong?,” the boss turns to him, annoyance still in his face. “nct,” he gulps, “they’re here.”

the man who just punched you turned to you again and flashes you a cheshire cat grin, completely replacing the annoyed look he had earlier, and it makes your stomach churn.

“dress her up. it’s time,” was the last thing you heard before a sack was placed over your head and the lights went out.

mark and the others flinch when they hear something hit the walls of the warehouse. jaehyun puts a finger to his lips and beckons the three to follow him. he presses his back against the wall — mark, taeyong, and johnny following suit. he raises his gun to his chest as he readies himself to see whoever’s behind the cold surface.

“jaehyun-hyung, get out of there!,” they hear haechan shout from their earpieces and drop to the ground just in time as a bullet hits the wall behind them.

taeyong quickly stands up and shoots after identifying the bullet’s origin, knocking off the shooter while mark hides behind a crate and turns to shoot back at the others. soon, bullets were flying from both sides of the warehouse. they managed to knock down a couple of the ones on the opposing side until johnny lets out a cry of pain, “we need backup. johnny’s been shot on the leg, bring a medic,” taeyong says before continuing to shoot.

mark’s heart beats anxiously against his chest as he reloads his gun. the thought of not getting everyone out alive was worrying him, making beads of sweat trickle down his forehead.

he aims and shoots, aims and shoots. “fuck, why are they so many!,” he shouts. he doesn’t notice one of them creeping up behind him until he gets kicked to the ground, the culprit knocking the gun from his hand.

the man raises the knife over his head and brings it down, and mark quickly rolls to his side, allowing his opponent to hit the ground instead. mark kicks the knife out of his hands and proceeds to kick his face. the man lands on his back in pain as soon as mark stands up, but he was quick. he swipes his leg from under mark, his body dropping to the floor once again. in the blink of an eye, the enemy was on top of mark, the weight of this bulky man crushing him. he delivers a punch to his face, and another, and another, until mark can feel his vision start to blurry and blood drip down the side of his face. the man grabs the knife from beside him and puts it in between them, mark swiftly grabbing his wrists to prevent the knife from going deeper into his chest. he groans in pain when he feels the tip enter slowly and he uses all the strength he has left to push this man off him.

he inhales sharply when he feels the weight suddenly being pulled off him. he hears grunts and punches being thrown from his right as he rolls to the other side to grab his gun. an arm helps mark pull him up to his feet and his eyes brighten at the sight of jungwoo, “you were never good at hand-to-hand combat,” the latter says.

“thanks,” he smiles at him, clicking his gun. jungwoo winks at him before raising his own and shooting from behind mark. he pulls mark to take cover from behind a crate and helps others in shooting, “how deep is it?,” mark hears jungwoo ask. “not that deep,” he answers, deciding on ignoring the pain. “shit, i don’t have that much bullets left,” mark says as he loads his last magazine into his gun and shoots.

as mark shoots his final bullet, their last opponent is knocked down. he sighs in relief before jungwoo helps him up and pulls him to stand. jungwoo leads him to the middle when he realizes almost everyone is there — sicheng, yuta, renjun, and even jisung who’s supposed to be doing his homework right now.

“you’re not supposed to be here,” mark whispers as he scolds the younger one. “i didn’t feel like doing any homework,” jisung shrugs, making mark let out a sigh. “go stay with kun-hyung. you’re not safe at the front,” he tells him before quickening his pace to fall into step with taeyong.

clap, clap, clap.

the sound stops the group from their tracks, most of them raising their guns in front of them. “boys, boys, calm down,” a man says from the front, “it’s just me.”

a light turns on in the dim warehouse, blinding them for a moment. “two, four, six, eight,” the man hums, “you killed like what, 40 of my men? with just 16 of you? wow, i’m impressed.”

“choi taehun,” taeyong’s voice booms throughout the warehouse, “we have the money. bring y/n out.”

choi taehun, the boss, grins manically before raising his hand. a small door from the left opens and a man drags you out as you stumble on your feet. the man holding you by the wrist violently throws you down, making you whimper when you feel the rough ground scrape your bare knees.

mark hears a few gasps from behind him as he clenches his fists at the sight in front of him. there you are, weakly pulling yourself up to sit. the large dress shirt they put over you rides up your bare thighs as you do so, revealing the cuts and bruises that patterned your skin along with the smears of dirt. mark can hear your small sobs even though you’re about 10 meters away from him, making more hatred form from inside of him. hatred for choi taehun and himself.

mark steps forward but taeyong puts his hand in front of him to stop him as he retains his calm demeanor. “you said you wouldn’t hurt her. you know that affects our deal, right?”

“i know, but you called to make the deal after i did,” he gestures to you with his hand, “this.”

“he’s lying!,” mark takes aggressive steps forward until choi taehun clicks his gun against your head. “i would go back to your place if i were you, mark lee.”

mark glares at him before slowly walking back, his eyes glued to you. “show me the money,” choi taehun demands.

jaehyun slowly walks to the front and crouches, placing a duffel bag on the ground. when he gets his hand on the zipper, choi taehun calls his attention, “put your gun out where i can see it.”

jaehyun runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek before complying and opening the zipper. he counts the money aloud, laying them outside the bag where they can see.

when the total reaches 23 million dollars, jaehyun bites his lip. the money was placed in stacks so that they won’t notice most of the bills are fake, but there was an unsettling feeling in his stomach, making him worry if everything goes as planned.

“30 million dollars,” jaehyun finishes as he walks back, “that’s thirty million dollars.”

“now let her go,” mark speaks. the delay was ticking him off, his anxiety was about to spiral if he doesn’t get to you. he can feel everyone’s uneasiness as choi taehun continues to stare at the stacks of money in the middle, the thought of him catching up to their plan entering their minds.

“the ammunition?,” choi taehun questions. “they’re being transported to you as we speak.”

“exact amount?”

“exact amount,” taeyong answers him sternly.

“alright,” choi taehun says nonchalantly. he walks up to you and crouches behind you, his eyes landing at an angry-looking mark in mockery. he smirks before putting a hand on your shoulder and roughly pulling the black sack off your head.

you squeeze your eyes shut immediately at the blinding light before blinking a few times to adjust. the first person you see is taeyong but when you look to his right you see mark and tears prickle your eyes.

mark’s face softens at the sight of your face — messed up hair, bruises scattering your face, and there’s dry blood near your gagged up mouth. his heart drops when he notices the dark spots and dry tear streaks under your eyes, and that’s when he realizes he did this. he made you suffer and he doesn’t know if he can forgive himself for it.

choi taehun brings his face closer to your ear, making you squirm in his hold as the gag in your mouth muffles your cries. mark was about to open his mouth, to tell him to stop, but he speaks before he does.

“i just want to say goodbye to our dear, y/n. not cooperative but still entertaining,” he coos sarcastically, making mark wanting to vomit at the thought of them doing things to you. “we’re gonna miss you, but i think mark misses you more,” he fake smiles, not bothering to remove the gag in your mouth, “get along now.”

he pulls you up on your weak feet and pushes you forward. you slowly stagger to the middle, the pain on your legs making it harder for you to walk. you see mark take a few hesitant steps before he’s running to you.

he meets you halfway and wraps his arms around you, supporting your weight. he uses his free hand to untie the cloth from behind your head and as soon as it falls to the ground, he cups your cheek as his eyes scan your face. mark didn’t realize he was crying until you wiped a tear from his cheek and wrap your arms around his neck. he kisses you softly, afraid of hurting you, and tastes the salt from both of your tears. “i’m sorry,” he whispers when he pulls away. he continues to whisper apologies as he pulls your head to his shoulder and holds you tightly. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to do this to you- i’m sorry.”

he feels you nod and grip his shirt, “i know. it’s okay,” you tell him, “i love you.”

“i love you. i’m so sorry.”

bang.

all of you freeze when you hear a gunshot echo in the room. a second gunshot sounds and mark snaps his head to look at choi taehun dropping to his knees and onto the floor as blood seeps out from the side of his head.

“got ‘em,” he hears haechan say through the earpiece and he lets out a breath he was holding.

mark suddenly feels warm liquid dampen his shirt, his eyes falling to your troubled ones. “mark,” you croak out, until your legs give out from beneath you and you drop to the floor, pulling mark along. he looks down and sees blood pool at the bottom of your shirt. he looks at you with wide eyes, “no, no, no,” he murmurs as he hooks his arm under your knees and secures you into his arms before standing up. “come on. stay with me, y/n, stay with me.”

he turns around and runs out the warehouse, the others quickly following after him. “we need to get her to kun, hyung!,” he cries out.

he gets into one of the cars outside, taeyong quickly jumping into the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

“hey, y/n, talk to me, okay? come on, talk to me,” mark panics while he grabs your hand and squeezes it. “i just got you back, y/n. you can’t,” he chokes back a sob, “you can’t leave me like this.”

“mark,” you try to say but he hears it nonetheless. “what is it, y/n? tell me,” he brings the hand he’s holding and brings it to his lips.

“it’s not your fault,” mark closes his eyes and shakes his head at your words, “it’s not your fault, okay? i love you.”

“no, no, y/n. don’t say that,” he whimpers as he presses your body closer to his, “don’t say that. you’re gonna make it, okay? promise me.”

“i love you,” you repeat. a tear slips down your face and the taste of blood enters your mouth again, but this time, it’s coming from the back of your throat. “this is it,” you think and more tears slip from your face.

“i love you, mark. i love you,” you repeat as you hold his hand with all the strength you have.

mark quickly intertwines your hands together and holds it tight, “i love you, y/n, please,” he begs, “stay with me.”

they say that when you die, your life flashes before you, but for you it doesn’t. you don’t see your seventh birthday in disneyland, your graduation ceremony, your father coming home from the military, nor the first time you held a press conference as the company’s new ceo. maybe because your life is right in front of you, holding you close and praying to god to give you a second chance. you’re so young, you think, you had so much planned for your future together with mark and the others that this all seems like a dream to you, but the now dull ache in your back brings you back to reality.

you’ve been living your life ever since you met mark. he brought out the good sides of you and turned your weaknesses into your strongest points. when the world around you was too much, he was there to help you get through it and remind you to keep strong. somewhere in the middle, you found out that he was dangerous, he and his friends were, but that drew you closer to them. you understood them without the need to say anything because you understand. you understand the feeling of having to love someone and hide something from them to keep them safe. the fact that you got to see mark come back home every time he’s done with his missions was enough to lull you back into sleep. “in another life, mark lee,” you tell yourself.

so before you let out your last breath, you squeeze mark’s hand once again, softly this time. you let your eyelids come to a close as your life is slowly being taken away, and the last thing you feel is mark’s lips pressed pressed to your cheek, the warmth escaping his touch.

#mark lee #nct mark #nct #nct 127 #mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #mark lee blurbs #mark lee drabbles #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #mark lee x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct blurbs #nct drabbles #nct fluff #nct angst #nct x reader #nct au #mark lee au #mafia au #nct mafia au #mark lee mafia au #if this goes well #i’ll be writing a part two #i dont know how to end things #someone tell me if this is good pls #taeyong #johnny #jaehyun