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inhuman-obey-me · 3 years

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Melody of Revenge

Word Count: 2.4k Description: Everyone knows not to mess with Lucifer Morningstar. Some, however, make the mistake of going after his family instead. Part of the A Demon's Nature series. Lucifer was next, and this ended up getting really long, so uh ... yeah. Can be found on AO3 here. content warning: torture, so much torture, blood, body horror/mutilation

Fear and intimidation. Lucifer knew how to use both effectively, striking terror into any and all who looked upon him. The Avatar of Pride rarely had to remind others of just who he was, but every now and then, someone decided to step out of line. It couldn’t be helped -- imbeciles could be found wherever beating hearts or souls resided.

Tonight, however, he was dealing with a very particular kind of imbecile. One that had crossed a line so gravely that he had planned an entire torture routine in his mind as he made his way through the halls of the Demon Lord’s Castle. Flames of anger licked his insides as he made his way to the dungeons, but he had to keep his rage under control. Lucifer always had to be in control, every action and word deliberate and planned. He didn’t have a choice to be anything less.

“Barbatos.” He greeted the loyal butler and friend, who stood at the entrance of a particular hall of cells.

“Greetings, Lucifer.” The usual polite smile alighted his lips, though a knowing look gleamed in his eyes. “Are you sure you want to handle this one?”

“Absolutely.” He responds firmly, immediately. Barbatos usually had the pleasure of torturing those who crossed the Devildom, and he took great delight in it -- far more than even Lucifer would. After all, Lucifer found torture and punishment as a means to an end, a form of discipline.

Barbatos simply did it for fun.

“Then by all means,” the royal servant bowed slightly, gesturing with one arm towards the dark hall. “She’s all yours.” With that, he left the dungeons, having a great many other tasks to attend to for the day -- though couldn’t help leaving with a melodic, “Have fun.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Lucifer’s lips. Oh, he planned to make this a very enjoyable time indeed. Taking a deep breath -- making sure that he was in control -- he dropped his glamour to reveal more of his demon form and walked forward to unlock one of the metal cell doors. It creaked open, allowing for the sounds of muffled screams to leave the dark room.

“Hello, Abyzou.”

The protests suddenly stopped, a chill seeming to settle in the air. Lucifer slowly lit the torches along the dungeon’s walls, bathing the room in a hellish orange light. There, in the middle of the cell, sat the traitor, bound and gagged. Her serpentine eyes looked up at Lucifer with a mix of fear and anger, but she otherwise remained silent and still.

“What’s wrong? Suddenly decided it was a good time to be quiet?” His voice is calm. Too calm. He eases his long coat off of his shoulders, hanging it on a hook by the door. Gloved hands begin to roll up his sleeves as he turns to look at the other demon again, a sigh leaving him. He stepped forward, and with a yank removed the gag from her mouth. “Is that better?”

Abyzou coughed, spitting to the side as she flexed her jaw after it being bound for so long. He allowed her to adjust -- he was a demon of patience, after all.

“Lucifer … “ She begins with his name, spoken with a certain kind of reverence. “I didn’t realize you would be visiting me here.”

“You didn’t?” The surprise in his voice is almost genuine. “Strange, I figured you would have been expecting me any day now, considering the reason you’re here in the first place.”

Her eyes widened for a moment before she directed her gaze elsewhere, not wanting to look upon the greater demon. There was a hint of shame in her expression, but it gave way to a twisted smile as she shook her head. “I see . . .”

“Do you?” He speaks sharply, his hatred for her beginning to show. He grabbed her jaw with one hand, forcing her to look up at him. “Do you see, Abyzou? Or are you still trying to play innocent?”

She hissed as his fingertips pressed into her skin, the red leather of his gloves saving her from the wrath of his claws -- for now. She stared into those magnetic ruby eyes and all the power they held, all of the destruction they could unleash, all of the pain they could bring.

“But was I wrong?” Abyzou knew her end was imminent, especially if the Avatar of Pride himself had requested to punish her personally. So what was the use in being anything but honest? “Was I truly wrong, Lord Lucifer?” The reverence once held in her voice was gone, replaced with mockery. She shifted in her bonds, leaning into the hand that held her jaw. “You know that the Devildom is stronger and better than the other realms, and yet we’re forced to grovel to the likes of angels!” Stretching out her neck, she continued with a jeer. “Or do you and your brothers miss having those white wings and halos for yourselves that much?”

Lucifer roughly pushed her face away from him, hand releasing her jaw. He took a step back, eyes full of cold fury still focused on the other demon. His gaze then swept the cell, taking note of the various torture instruments on display -- but grinned when he saw that Barbatos made sure to include the absolute essential. A vinyl player, the perfect record already in place to set the mood. He set it up to play, allowing the first notes to spill into the air before resuming his interrogation.

“So, you thought yourself better than the others who had agreed to His Royal Highness’ vision?” Lucifer begins to tug at the seam of one of his gloves, steadily peeling it off his hand. “Of course, we knew that plenty of the nobles had their concerns, and many voiced them, yourself included.” He sets the removed glove to the side, now beginning to take off the other. “And yet, you still decided that you would try and work against us behind the scenes,” The second glove joins its pair. “And, what I’m really trying to understand -- truly, I am -- is why you thought it would be a good idea to try and undermine the Seven Lords?”

Abyzou shifted in place, her earlier burst of bravado dwindling, and goosebumps rose along her skin as she listened to the music he decided to play. It was common knowledge to never get on Lucifer’s bad side, but she had taken the risk -- and now she would be answering for it. She lowered her head, staring at the cold stone floor, suddenly finding the way the orange light from the flames bounced and shimmered of great interest. “I . . . “ She started, trying to choose her next words carefully. “I wasn’t trying to undermine you or your brothers. I was doing what I thought would be best … including for you all! Can’t you see that I was trying to protect you, protect us?”

A piercing, incredulous laugh left Lucifer’s lips, his deep voice sending chills down Abyzou’s spine. He picked up the spool of twisted rope and approached her once more, the steady clack clack from his shoes’ heels echoing throughout the cell, mingling with the slowly increasing crescendo.

“Aby, Aby, Aby . . .” Lucifer clicked his tongue before he roughly collected a fistful of her long raven locks, eliciting a sharp cry as her head was wrenched back to look up at him. “That was your first mistake.”

The Avatar of Pride was nothing short of an expert when it came to stringing others up from the ceiling, though in this particular case, he wanted to make sure it hurt. The imprisoned demon thrashed and squirmed, but he was able to lift and tie her up with ease, making sure that the rough jute cut into her scaly skin just short of making her bleed -- for now. He tied the rope up to her waist, then put each wrist in a metal clasp that was chained to the floor, stretching out her arms to either side.

“You thought you needed to protect us? A sweet gesture,” He derided her, a claw coming up to slowly trace from her chin down through her cheek, drawing blood as it broke skin. “And an absolute lie. Your little act had every intention to put my brothers at risk, in harm’s way … “ A second claw followed the first, creating a ribbon of shredded skin. Abyzou hissed at the pain, biting back anything else in an effort to save some sense of dignity. “ … and you had the audacity to think you’d get away with it. Truly incredible.” The faux amazement in his tone felt like thorns in her ears, and she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to look into his face.

“What’s the matter, Abyzou? Shouldn’t you be used to being in this kind of position, or at least … something not too far from it?” Lucifer smirked, delighted to see her eyes shoot back open, bright yellow irises staring at him in disbelief. “If I remember correctly … Solomon had you tied up in front of his temple, and by your hair, at that.”

That riled her up. Forked tongue lashed out to flick at his face, a series of curses leaving her lips soon after. Fangs bared, she hissed, “Don’t you dare bring up that bastard! To think that I wasn’t allowed to lay a hand on him the moment he stepped into our realm. He deserves to have his neck twisted, but you … !”

“But I . . ?” Lucifer took out a handkerchief from his back pocket, nonchalantly wiping away at where her tongue and spit landed on his visage. “Please, do go on.”

“You … you, all of you, let him in with open arms! Even after knowing everything he’s done, how he’s treated our own kind! I don’t care if you say he’s changed, HE NEEDS TO BE TORN LIMB FROM LIMB!” She screamed, thrashing about in her binds, chains rattling as she struggled.

“Temper, temper, Aby.” Oh, that sadistic, pointed grin. A wave of euphoria washed over him, seeing her like this. “You have no room to talk, considering what you’ve done.” He watched as the blood from her face dropped and dripped to the floor, a hum leaving his lips.

“Perhaps you need some more reminding of just how badly you fucked up this time.” He raised a hand, chanting a curse that caused a swirl of glowing energy to encircle both of her hands. It weaved through her clenched fists, forcing them open, and wrapped like binding around each finger. She cried out in pain as she felt the magical binding began to gradually crush her fingers, cutting off circulation knuckle by knuckle.

“You tried to have some of my brothers poisoned,” All five claws of one hand pierced the skin of her upper arm, retracted, pierced again a bit lower, and repeated -- gradually making way down her entire arm. More and more blood began to drip, the usual greenish hue of her scaly skin now awash in dark red. “You tried to gather enough support to attack them, because you were too much of a coward to come face any of us yourself. Though, it’s laughable that you thought you could do damage to us in the first place.”

“I … I’m sorry!” She knew any apologies here were useless, but the pain that she now felt at every point in her body was becoming too agonizing to ignore. “I felt like I was left with no choice!” She felt her vision get hazy, the smell of her blood and the sharp strikes of pain -- from the rope, from his claws, from the curse -- overwhelming her senses. And that damned music, it was driving her insane.

“No choice?” Lucifer scoffed, his claws now repeating the treatment on her other arm. “Abyzou, you did have a choice.” His brows furrowed, wings stretching out as he brought his face close to her upside-down one. “You just chose the wrong one.”

Tears stung her eyes, the magic binding on her hands crushing her fingers until there would be nothing left. She could hear her blood drip in puddles on the floor, and yet the bleeding wasn’t enough for her life to end anytime soon.

“Please … please, Lord Lucifer … just finish me already.” She begged, though deep down she knew her cries for mercy would be futile.

Lucifer’s usual stoic expression settled on his features. He watched her for a moment, then turned around and walked to the table by the door where he had laid his gloves. A cloth was folded neatly next to them, which he took to wipe the blood off of his hands, murmuring a spell to help fully rid his skin of any that remained. Then, he pulled his gloves back on, tugging on the seams to make sure that they were on properly, fingers flexing in the red leather.

“I’m sure that’s what you would like, Abyzou.” His voice is eerily low, his back still turned to the demoness. She could hear him setting something up, but was unable to make out what it was.

Then he started humming, a haunting sound added to the sharp strings and bellowing percussion.

He dragged the table closer to her suspended body, stepping aside to show what was left on it.

She nearly choked. There, next to the record player, was another similar device -- but this one wasn’t for playing.

“However, I have no intention of giving you a quick end. You’ll remain here, like this, until every last drop of blood leaves your body, and your hands are thoroughly crushed, and those ropes cut through you. But, you won’t be completely alone.”

He gingerly raises the needle, setting it onto the record at the correct position. Resuming his humming, he hit the Record button, and the disc began to spin, the needle etching everything it heard into the vinyl. “We’ll have a lovely keepsake to remember you by. Ah, and don’t worry … this is all using magic, so it will document everything up until your last breath.”

Abyzou tried to thrash about with what strength she had left, but in the end only caused herself pain, the chains shackled to her wrists ringing and clanging.

“Farewell, Abyzou.”

With that, Lucifer left the cell, the large metal door shutting to a close behind him. He made his way back through the dungeon halls, a smirk on his lips as he heard a loud, wailing shriek in the distance.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me lucifer #om! lucifer #obey me fics #obey me swd #demons being demons #writings #series: a demon's nature #yeah this gets pretty descriptive in parts so!! be warned #also feel free to listen to heart of darkness by succession studios with this -- or also lucifer's waltz or queen of the damned #can you tell who my favorite is lmao #decided to post directly to this blog now #the all encompassing [mod] cosmos

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thekillingjoke-haha · 3 years

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Angel With A Shotgun

Summary: The Novak family was big talk,but not nearly as famous as the L/n’s. Togther they can be unstoppable,so what say family ties like guns,drugs,money,and murder?

Paring: Michael!Dean x Male!Reader

1900's Mafia/Gangsters AU

A/N: this is a Micheal fic,but its him in Dean's body so like...idk its the same snake different skin. Also Chuck is referred as Charles

Warning:Blood,guns,knives,gore,torture,swearing. Homophobic comments like just a few. No proof reading

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The Novak's that a family that was one of the most feared yet respected. The way people talk about them down south you'd think they were inspiration for the Bible itself. A man by Charles or Chuck Novak is the head honcho with five sons to help him run is kingdom.

The youngest is Castiel he was probably the nicest of all his siblings,but also the most protected with three other brothers, Gabriel is the definition of trouble and if he slipped up head could easily get lynched good thing he puts that silver tongue to work. Raphael was one of the more head strong,but sadly he was shot when several rivals attacked at on of their bars. Lucifer is the second oldest and the most hot headed with a temper to match the black sheep in his family if you will, then last,but not least Michael he was something else entirely the play boy,a demon is a flat cap and tailored suit.Now that the Novak's have been introduced the world's most feared gang the L/n's is one family not to be fucked with.

(Father's name) leading his kingdom no...empire with his wife (Mother's name) and togther they had only two sons. The second born William and the oldest M/n. William wasn't much involved with the criminal side of the business,but his big brother was the prime example of a gangster. No one besides the L/n gang has seen him he stays out of newspaper coverage and that only allows his terror to run ramped. A man with no face and a title of Satan himself made the oldest Novak just a little timid when he found out. "WHAT THE HELL!!!" Michael threw the newspaper on his fathers desk in anger the older man looked up after glancing at the paper. "I'm due to be wed to a L/n and none the less a man! I can be hanged for so much as saying I do and it IN THE FUCKING BULLETIN!!!" He was seething with hatred in every word. Michael will admit it hurt a lot finding out he was to be wed by the slight disgust look he got while grabbing the paper before getting coffee. "I wanted to tell you sooner,but you were handling something. There's no way out of this a deal was made before you were born me and (Father's name) have been waiting for his wife to bare a girl or your mother to do the same,but your mother's untimely passing and (Mother's name) having gone unfertial our oldest are due to wed." Chuck sighed taking off his thin wired glasses.

"You two were once friends,but I guess time got rid of those memories." Chuck sat down his spectacles down looking at his son. Michael turned to father with shock evident in his eyes. He was friends with M/n L/n the man with no face. Everything was too foggy. The shorter male stood up to a shelf in the office and grabbed a small match box opening it looking around before pulling out a picture. Handing it over to his son he sat back down. "He was one of the only people you'd go to when you were a baby. Heavens he was probably the only person you liked,but when he was five and you were three the fact that our business was centered around blood and there's on bonds it became a fight,mafia versus a gang, and you guys saw eachother less and less till around the time Luci was born not at all." Chuck sighed. The young man was in shock a little boy maybe two or three was cuddled up to a baby in a pale blanket that he remembered was blue fully awake and if the picture could come to life he's sure the boy was humming all while rubbing the infants back.

"No ones seen a picture of him in twenty six years and he was on his fathers hip with a match box car. He's in town and should be coming for dinner here by himself in three days time. So til then keep your brothers in check we don't need them to shoot the young man with a stray bullet." With that Charles dismissed his eldest son as the green eyed boy stormed off in a huff. Michael started to do digging. M/n L/n was in headlines weekly in every post known to man from shootings,assassination,and gangbanding to rumors of his love-life,what he wears,and people claiming to have met him. One thing caught his eye that made him falter. "Gangsters M/n L/n Captures Murderer" that when he started reading the full paper that crumbled a bit due to age. Maybe he's not so bad the guy he caught never saw a courtroom,but met a far worse end all because he caused problems with his people. It was admirable the brunette knew he'd do the same,but not just for anybody. Marriage wasn't settling well with him that didn't mean it felt completely wrong.

One day later

Looking in the mirror Michael watched as his maid adjusted his tie while another smoothed the wrinking in his white button up and vest of his three piece suit. As the oldest he had business to handle people to keep in line. When their hands left his body they scurried out of the room rushing to be down stairs before him. His dress shoes met the floor as he grew closer to the door his youngest sibling ran up next to him. "Can I come,please!" His raven head of hair and doe blue eyes almost made him cave,but with a firm look he gazed down at him. "Sorry little raven,but I have things to handle another time." The pout on Castiel lip didn't move as he held up his hand his pinky out. "Promise?" Interlocking with the ten year olds pinky. "Promise." With that he happily skipped away to play in the garden.

Out the door he went. His flat came on his head and coat thrown over his shoulder his effects tucked in his waistband. Screams caused him to smile as he stood before the butcher on payroll. He wore the man's leather apron having abandoned his tailored suit jacket in the front of the deil. "Were is my money?" He cut the man some more as he continued to scream in pain the white fire from the rusted meat hook in his shoulder flaring with each jerked motion. "Help please!" He yelled all of a sudden in the past hour he hasn't called for assistance. "No can do." A deep voice said behind the oldest Novak turning around sharply his green eyes clashed with e/c. The man looked like anyone off the street his shoes tattered and clothing dirty form labor no bet. "I came for my five notes." The didn't seem fazed at the torture. "Fuck you gypsy scum!!" The pig of a man responded as the tall s/c man crept closer gripping a knife Michael was using. "I just unloaded a load of meat in the summer heat that would give the devil a sweat and all I asked for my effort was five notes nothing more nor less so cough of the money that you clearly owe both of us or I'll carve it out of you and make you squeal like the piggy bank you are." His tone dropped further the blade under the man's fat chin and the Novak felt aroused at the threat. This guy meant every word when the hanging man spat in his face the off color of snuff and blood made the normally clear liquid seen and thick. Let's just say Michael sat back crossing his legs in a attempt to compose himself as the man hit pitches not even the girls in the church choir could master. The heavy weight man forked over the money then some I got my full and he ended up giving the mystery man a hundred notes if he made the pain stop after pocketing the money he shot the man.

He turned around and began to leave when the brunette stopped him. "Wait! I give you my thanks friend he was stubborn for a hour almost" The h/c man turned looking at him giving a smile tilting his head for the Novak to follow as he stepped out the deli. Scrambling he walked down the street next to the man their attire clashing a well tailored suit next to rags that looked more like a potato sack then cloth. "Glad I could help a fine looking fella like yourself." His flirtatious grin caused butterflies to run ramped in Michael's guts. As they walked down the street they slowly moved from the good side of the town to the slums. No cars drove on the gravel a fire hydrine spat out water for all the children playing around it,women hung up clothes on wire between tenements and men looked more like the mysterious gypsy next to the Novak. Speaking of the mystery man he went to each crowded tenements door and knocked the women or young men of the families came to the door and he handed over twenty notes each. The women cried and clung to his tall figure and the boys almost men looked at him in wonder like a hero before running off to tell the adults of the place. "Why did you do that?" Michael asked as they walked out of the town. "You worked for that money and gave it all away." He was confused he's never seen a man work for a family that wasn't his own.

"They need it more. Schools out the children don't get meals and the men work hard to feed them at least a meal a day. I'm alone here no lover or children with the energy and muscle to work." Novak wasn't sure before,but he was sure now this was love and it felt better then any harlot he could spend the night with. "Thats very admirable of you." Michael complmented which was not a normal accuracy. "It was truly nothing to admire,handsome. I'm not saying I'm amazing,but sometimes I'm decently above average. That's what people need someone decent enough go care."

Before he knew it they were back on his side of town and getting closer to the business. "It's been a pleasure,Mr. Novak." The man dripped his head as he turned to leave somewhere. "You know who I am and I don't even get a name." He turned back around and got closer to him his chest pushed up against his till he was pinned to the wall he leaned down his lips so close to his face just out of reach. "I'm N/n,but you can call me the man of your dreams." Michael almost leaned up to peak his lips when the warm body pulled away taking with it the lust filled tension. N/n turned and left out of sight that night was full of the man tossing and turning dreaming of the e/c man that made him feel high as the clouds above. N/n smiled as his men drank around him he finally saw his baby boy all grown up and he's taking what's his this time.

Two days later=Six Hours Before Family Dinner

The buzz of the New Yorker coming to Kansas was the rage. Any man that was new in town was watched like a hawk by commoners and the Novak's. Michael was no longer looking forward to this marriage he didn't want this man no matter who he was. N/n stole his heart like a petty thief and ran away from him. No one in Kansas knew who he was a s/c skinned,h/c haired,e/c eyed gypsy was all he had to go on no last name just a image that burned bright in his mind. Michael sighed as he left his office and went down to the bank he needed enough cash on hand to throw away on booze and maybe angel dust. People parted for him like the red sea and he easily got money when gun shots went off. The teller in front of him fell to the ground wounds ridding his body and Novak turned to see men...no boys with guns.

"Everyone get down on the ground. We've come only for the money we won't hesitate for blood as well." The group chuckled as the leader smirked people shook as they easied to the ground all except Michael who stood tall. "Ah! If it isn't Michael Novak no men to protect you now." A man he didn't realize came behind him hit him over the head with his gun causing him to fall to his knees. "Pathetic." The band of thugs leader grabbed the Mafia bosses chin looking and the blood coming from his brow. Someone stood from on their knees a flat cap covering their hair and a long trench coat that was only slightly open. "It would be in your best interest to leave,boys." They all train their guns at the man. "Why's that,you motherless bastered?" The man turned his gaze upward deadly sharp e/c orbs looked at him and Michael was in shock it was N/n. "Cause I have twelve guns ready to blow holes in you and your men." After his words ten men stood up all wearing the same clothing flat caps,overcoats,and suspenders with a Tommy on every man except the leader. The cowardly man looked frightened looking around keeping his gun on the s/c man. "I only count ten I still have the upper hand." N/n gave a devilish smile that made Michelle gaze on love struck and excited for what's to come. His gray trench coat hit the floor and two sawed-off shotguns in each hand. "Upper hand you say?" He pulled both triggers the left one killing the man sending himself flying back and the right killing the man behind Michael blowing his brains painting the tan walls this made the others fire as well. The bodies of the criminals and one civilian litter the floor.

N/n sent the men off to get the people out as he walked up to the bleeding Novak. "Thank you." His green eyes gleamed making the standing man give a grin as he held his hand out to help him up. "Consider it a gift from M/n L/n." The gleam disappeared from his eyes his soon to be husband was in town has been in town and set his men up to keep him safe. "Now if I'm not mistaken you have a dinner to get ready for,pretty boy." He takes the handkerchief out of his waist coat dabbing the blood away. "Will you be there?" Michael voice sounded weak so full of hope. "You can count on it. We'll be seeing eachother alot more." The man stood up and quickly left and not a moment later Mafia men came in running tending to the boss. Looking longingly at the piece of cloth (Your Initials) were sowed into the reddend white square of fabric.

Family Dinner was about to start the Novak's sat at the table Charles sitting at the end his three eldest sons to his right while his youngest sat to the left two spots were available one across from Michael and the other on the opposite end of Charles. A maid came in the dinning hall and cleared her throat. "The L/n's are here." Two young men came through the door one taller then the other the shorter of the two sat across from Michael while the other sat at the other end of the table closest to Michael and the other man. Charles smiled at them both and Michael was in a state of shock. "M/n been a long while hasn't it?" The oldest Novak looked at the man infront of him waiting for a response when the man he thought to be just a gangster working under the L/n's answered. "That it has Chuck. Sorry father couldn't come he had some other business to handle." N/n or M/n now to Michael's knowledge said before placing a hand on the man beside him. "This is Benjamin or Benny my right hand man don't mind him." The man gave a nod of acknowledgment his blue eyes piercing. "Heard about the blood bath at the bank quite impressive from what Michael has told me." A side smile and a teasing look was turned the mentioned Novak's way. "Saw low life scum trying to rob the place and touching what's mine,their little toys they call guns were child's play compared to my men." M/n sent a wink addressing the men hitting Michael from behind.

"Are you a knight that saves people?" The youngest asked his blue eyes wide in wonder. The s/c males eyes turned to the child a warm smile gracing his lips. "Sometimes when I want to be." A bubbly giggle rang out. "You saved Mikey making him your prince." Those words caused different reactions from all the men. Gabe covered his mouth trying not to laugh at his older brother,Lucifer grinned leaning over to his brother. "Did he have to kiss you sleeping beauty?" He chuckled lowly making kissing noises in his ear,Micheal was beet red as he couldn't bear to face any of them,Chuck smiled looking at his son and son-in-law,Benny nudged his boss sliding something to him while everyone was distracted. "Yeah and I'm gonna make him my king and take him to my castle." M/n leaned towards the boy and whispered in his ear. "We'll ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after." Castiel was gobsmacked as he gazed at his brother all giddy he was gonna live a fairy tale like in all the books their mother use to read. "Um if you'll excess me. I need some air." Micheal stood up and not long after M/n followed when given a reassuring nod from Charles.

The garden of the estate was beautiful in the moonlight and it wasn't hard to spot the oldest Novak on a bench on looking the pond that reflected the night sky. "You knew the whole time who I was." Micheal didn't look up at the man as he sighed. "Yes I knew who you were...we were once closer then the stars and the skies itself." The L/n sat next to him on the bench looking forward. "Chuck knew as well." Michelle turned in shock at that statement a goose chase for nothing. "He didn't know what I looked like now,but letters everyday asking about you seemed to do the trick." Those e/c eyes turned to look into those apple green ones. "Learning from a young age that in you grasp was the person you were due to wed was shocking I almost hated you,but the moment you grabbed my finger as if I'd slip away made me realize it can't be so bad." M/n held out his hand palm up so the younger male rested his hand in his grasp. "I was afraid at first you'd hate me. So I swore to protect you always. Some of my men live here with their families and they keep me posted. Just last year a rat was found on you door step admitting his faults."

Micheal remembered that the maids came rushing to get the family and a man bloody and beaten spilled his guts about planning to cross the family having been hired by a rival Mafia to get information to attack them at a weak state. "I know this won't mean munch to you know,but maybe at some point you'll be happy to carry my last name and call yourself my husband." In M/n hand that wasn't interlocked with Micheal's he opened a box revealing two wedding bands both were silver while one had a gold trim and the other had a f/c trim. "No matter what,Novak,I'll be there when yiu need me through it all most of the times guns blazing." M/n chuckled lightly taking in a deep breath. "Just ponder on it,pretty boy,I'llbe here waiting." as he slipped the ring on the silent man's finger before doing the same with himself he gently kissed the top of his head as he stood up and left wanting to give him space. Micheal smiled at the ring that perfectly fit his finger. The one man he felt attracted to was his guardian angel always there no matter what.

Lifting his hand up he kissed the metal band as a laugh left his lips. "My angel with a shotgun."

⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉

A/n: Second Male reader and I had to spell check for almost 50 she/her in her so I think I got them all lol.

@spnquotebingo

Quote: "I'm not saying I'm amazing,but I'm decently above average."-Blacklist @spnquotebingo

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binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: cuties!! hehe we’re finally getting...a couple things in this chapter that i’ve been wanting to share sooo bad! i added question marks to some of the tags to make it more of a surprise! i love hearing what ya thought of it! hehe <3

Five

Pairing: self insert, (?) x female reader x bang chan

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut and angst

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, collegestudent!seungmin, royal!minho, informantandclubowner!changbin (loll thats so long), (?)!felix, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, mentions of alcoholic drinks and getting drunk, hehe bit of smut/suggestive content (tags omitted for surprise--nothing crazy to tag tho hehe), maknae line are my sons in this fic, binnie in this fic can fkn take me lol

CWs: sizable shoot out in public club with several people involved, presumed that people die because of this event, lots blood and other wounds such as gunshot wounds, mentions of drugs (both recreational and hard drugs) mentions of weapons such as knives and guns--the whole scene is violent

Word count: 8.5k

Parts

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE

“Five years later and I’m still tying your ties, F. Some things never change.”

Jeongin cracks a smile, simple and cute, much like the man himself even when he has a handgun glued to his hand.

“It’s still a harder task than some of the stuff that they have us doing. Not gonna lie.”

You smooth down your partner’s lapels where he’s pinned a small pin of the ticking clock. While others would wear crests, the insignia that bonds you to the younger man is this this small instrument. He’s quiet while he watches you fiddle with his silk blue tie that compliments his snow white hair perfectly.

“Are you nervous for tonight?”

Your partner upkeeps his stoic façade the best he can, but tonight there’s something different about him. His silent answer speaks louder than he could ever admit. On the queen sized bed, Seungmin kicks his perfectly shined shoes while flipping through the channels of the TV with a staticky sounding click. Jeongin lightly brushes his hand over the diamond dangling earrings that twinkle as they are supposed to from your ears--likely they’re crystals, not the more expensive jewel.

“I’m not nervous,” He finally sighs, but there’s a bit of a crack to his voice. “I trust you. And Two. I’m trying to focus on that.”

“It’ll be fine.” You assure, “White Rabbit must have his own security that would be at his beck and call. If anyone shoots at us, they’re shooting at him. We’re not alone.”

The young agent nods, then gives a little slap to the college student on the bed. “Get up. We’re leaving. Remember what I showed you?”

Jeongin draws from the bedside a small handgun. It’s more decorative than protective, but still fires bullets that could save his life.

“Keep it in your breast pocket. Make sure that no one sees it. We don’t wanna cause a scene.”

Seungmin’s eyes widen as he feels its weight in his hand. “Got it. I hope I don’t have to use it.”

“Me too,” You give the youngster a soothing smile. “And remember, don’t tell anyone your name. When you’re in there, your name is S. Better yet, it’s best not to interact with anyone.”

He nods, then slides it into the thin fabric of his coat. The young man looks considerably more dapper with The Agency’s clothes: a deep purple velvet two piece with silver cufflinks decorated with white roses--another symbol that you’ve grown familiar with.

The prince saunters up to the bedroom with a slick tap at the opened door. He oozes with regality; not like you expected any less. The royal has dressed himself magnificently without the aid of his help once more: a pure black silk suit with a smart pressed white button up that’s spotless with not one crinkle. The while shirt itself is adorned with two thin silver chains which stretch across his lower torso. At the neck where the shirt meets its last button, there’s a floral brooch: one more more white rose for good measure.

“Wow!!” Seungmin respectfully bows. “Your Highness, you look--”

“--I didn’t fuck up the hair, did I?”

Chan grins as he brings his fingers through his newly colored hair; its much lighter than his dark locks had been before: now a shade of tawny brown. The change to his appearance had come at the request of the palace who suggested that he try to conceal his identity even further as to not arouse suspicion.

“Handsome as ever, your Highness.” You sneer out the compliment.

Since the previous night had turned sour, seeing eye to eye with the prince had become harder to do. It was a wild confliction of feelings when you thought more and more of it. With every glance that he would throw in your direction, along with way that he had stared at you all through breakfast, you couldn’t meet him. You felt as if you had borne a wound for him to see, for him to poke at--the secret kind that was best kept to yourself--and he had dug his finger in; he had laughed.

The prince tilted his head, and you met his eyes for the first time since then. There was a softness about him when you knew that he was inspecting you. You knew you must’ve been overthinking it--and that was what made it so dangerous.

“Looking stunning as always, Bee. I knew that you would wear that dress well.”

You let the words, “Thank you,” leave your tongue before toying with the small handbag provided to you. As always, your thigh holster held steady under your dress.

Four clicks at the suite door sounded, startling nearly everyone in the room, revealing everyone’s nerves which they had denied.

“That’ll be Lee Minho.” Chan announced.

Two answered the door in his own costuming. The two men bowed upon meeting, a usual meeting between strangers. The agent lead him to the room, and the royal buttoned his own suit properly.

“Good evening. It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I’m Lee--”

“--Minho.” Jeongin dryly cut, “We know who you are.”

Luckily, you and your partner shared the same apprehension.

“I’m Fox. You’ve met Bee. The young kid is S, he’s a new agent. The quiet one that let you in is Two.”

Minho bowed politely with a slight blush. “You weren’t kidding when you said that you were well protected, Your Highness.”

Chan chuckled in response then clapped the other royal by the back.

“You look amazing,” Minho said to the prince who shooed him away with a humble hand.

“You as well.”

Chan sized up the royal who indeed looked like one. His suit was a simplier charcoal grey with pinstripes with a white undershirt that ruffled at the collar. Not typical of the royals that you knew, he also wore dangling silver earrings that would have never passed the royal standard for professionalism. However, it made sense considering that he had been of a lower rank.

“Now that we’ve got the formalities out of the way, shall we head out?” Chan put a very obvious hand to the lower back of Lee Minho while checking with the rest of the group. “It’s best not to keep him waiting?”

Your partner nodded and ushered the group out while giving his body one more pat down to ensure that all concealed weapons were in place. Two checked the assortment of knives tucked discreetly into his own jacket. The man had some kind of wicked and unidentifiable grin while he felt the metal against his fingers. You exited at the rear, feeling a hand tug at your arm.

“--Bee, I’m sorry about what happened...I’m...I hope that you can understand my motivations as to why I said what I did, it didn’t seem like the right time--”

“--There will never be a right time.” You tore your arm free. “Your Highness, what happened...that was a mistake on my part. I acted out of line. There will never be a right time because...I’m your guard, and you’re my prince. Do you understand?”

“But Bee--”

“--End of discussion,” The words burned in your throat seeing the way that he had looked at you just then, and it was clear that he definitely didn’t understand.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

You had heard that the White Rabbit had been a prideful man--this was now an indisputable fact once you pulled up to the roaring nightclub set into one of the busiest streets on the avenue in Cairo. Everything about the place was showy and bright and outrageous. It was a miracle that the man hadn’t been caught considering that his home base was as obvious as it was. The entire front of the night club shone with the brilliance of a million stars in a hundred different colors. A giant marquee held the signage with the title of the place, “The Tea Party” coupled with the image of the white rabbit himself--the one from the old movie--a stout little thing with his pocket watch swinging from his paw. His neck was wrapped up in a white ruff, and he wore a frock pattered in red hearts.

A line stretched from the front entrance for as far as you could see, and clubbers swung their bodies in tune to the muffled sound of the EDM music thumping from inside and throwing cigarette butts to the sidewalk.

“Do we just walk in?” Seungmin hurriedly asked with nervous hands wrapped around his body.

“We’re expected, so, yes.” You snaked your arm through Jeongin’s to look even less conspicuous. “Just relax,” You commanded the group lowly.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the prince slug his arm around Lee Minho who appeared to shrink under the other man’s broad shoulders.

Two large bouncers stood at the entrance with muscles swelling under their shirts stained pink in areas which you assumed to have been white at some point.

“Names?” One of them grunted rather than spoke.

From his pocket, your partner took out his very own pocket watch that had been hidden with the rest of your supplies upon arrival to Cairo. On the opposite side of the watch was engraved the two symbols intertwined: the white rabbit and the the white rose. The two men inspected it, nodded, and opened the door for your small entourage. As soon as you entered the booming central room, you could see Seungmin’s shoulders drop as he relaxed.

“There should be someone meeting us!” Jeongin yelled over the sound of the white noise leading to the bass drop. Hundreds of clubbers danced with the music, throwing their glasses to the air and howling like animals. You wouldn’t have been surprised if at least half of them had been strung out on the very drugs that the man himself had helped peddle.

The young agent pulled you closer to him as stumbling bodies passed.

“They could be here. We have to be on our guard.”

“Let me watch the prince.”

Jeongin nodded, letting you recede to the back of the group where Two had tailed. His eye wound hadn’t healed nearly enough, so he opted to wear the sunglasses once more. It was likely that word had spread about the four of you escaped twice--his eye was evidence. From behind the group, you watched the way the the prince’s hand fell down hold Lee Minho by the hip, and the way that his fingers dug in there slightly. As much as you had denied it, seeing them close brought back the very covetous thoughts you tried to keep at bay.

A slender woman with gorgeous tanned skin pushed her way through the crowd and set her eyes on the white head of your partner. Her dress was even thinner than yours, but she wore it as if it was her second skin. The luxurious red color contrasted perfectly with her dark hair and eyes.

“Are you Fox?” She asked with a thick accent, and cascaded her hand down the young man’s arm.

“Y-yes. I am.”

“Bun asked me to bring you to him. I know the way.”

She let her hand fall into Jeongin’s who whipped his head back to you with dry lips that he wetted immediately. You had expected to have been retrieved by someone a bit stockier than this woman.

“He’s trying to get our guard down.” Two said suddenly as he reached into his pocket to thumb over his stockpile of metal there. “Don’t you think?”

The woman took your group near to the corner of the room where bodies didn’t linger for long, but were drawn in the mosh pit in the center. Tables lined these edges which were fashioned into booths with red velvet curtains for privacy to do much more sinister things. The room smelled heavily of pure alcohol spilled by drunk hands and of synthetic fabrics made of cheap plastics. A dozen different fragrances mingled into one dizzying mess: each a scent so different and chemical that it was toxic.

She walked with a swing to her hips, all the way to a booth that was a bit larger than the others--you could only assume that this must’ve been his booth. The woman gestured for you all to enter before drawing the curtain. At the center of the table, the rabbit’s symbol had been burned into the wood. She wore some kind of thin diamond bracelet which she hovered over the image, causing a winding staircase to pop from the carpeted floor down to a hidden chamber.

“Take the stairs, and it you’ll see it once you get down there.”

Your partner have her a curt nod in thanks, then lead the group further down. A soft green and red glow emanated from the space below, also humming with a concealed type of music different from that which was played in the club. From here, it nearly sounded like jazz.

The corridor under the club was bleak and grey with cement, but wooden crates lined it with stamps on the sides in numerous different languages. Your brain could only fathom where the contents had been before they ended up in this basement. It must have been millions of dollars just sitting undisturbed with enough firepower to blow up the whole building and more.

“Guns. Military grade and a little more improper,” Minho sighed out. “He must have every model in existence here.”

“Do you think that he has like...missiles?” Seungmin reached for his small handgun.

“Ease up S.” You tried to contain your own creeping fear, “Those would be too big to keep down here.”

“Who says that this is his whole stockpile?” Two deadpanned as he cleaned his glasses.

At the end of the hall, one more bulky guard stood expressionless with a small sized machine gun ready in his hands. He opened the door without saying much else, letting loose the red and green lights you had seen before, and with it, the putrid smell of expensive drink and marijuana.

The smaller room was only lit by strobes with multicolored gels, and it was dense with the smoke of many number of drugs and vices. There was a small bar with a bartender with bagged eyes and a swath of women in cocktail dresses and men with ties tugged nearly all the way off their necks with lipstick marks pressed into them.

A single disco ball spun above their heads, spreading shiny squares all across the room. Even more guards waited in the same uniform, but these ones looked more expensive--likely his own personal detail wearing gaudy chains and wrist watches inlaid with diamonds and crested in real gold.

“My friends! You were able to make it!”

The man of the hour spread his legs wide on his leather couch set upon a lion’s coat rug, complete with a head and marble eyes and all. At his sides were two more women more unique than the rest: both of them was breathtakingly gorgeous, one of them jeweled like a queen with a thick gold choker that resembled that which old Egyptian royalty would. Her head was smoothed with no hair at all, but instead intricate and beautiful tattoos decorated her like some kind of otherworldly being. The other woman had a cat-like face with two differently colored eyes; one hazel green and the other icy blue contrasting with her fiery orange hair.

“Carroll told me that you had a bit of trouble before you got here. I’m glad to see that you were able to get here in one piece. It only seems like things are getting more and more...risky these days. Even for people like us.”

“We’re not “people like you,” Rabbit.” You pushed to the font of the group.

The club owner himself was dressed in a purely white fur coat which you presumed to be made of real fur. Considering the material, it must’ve been made from the fur of snow foxes--an interesting choice considering your partner’s persona. The smaller man with a thick and muscled form took off his yellow tinted sunglasses to tuck them into his wildly printed shirt that had tiny buttons doing the work of keeping his chest covered.

“Babydoll! It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’ve heard all about you. Your reputation precedes you.” He took a rather greedy bite to his lip whilst looking you up and down. The white dress must have been doing it’s job well.

“Babydoll?” Chan asked with furrowed brows. “What is--who is--?”

“As does your reputation, Rabbit. I wouldn’t have expected less.”

The proud man snorted, “I hope this doesn’t mean that you’ve got any...preconceived notions about my lifestyle. Our dear friend Carroll doesn’t seem to.”

“Of course not.”

“And you...you must be the Prince of Bulgeun! His Royal Highness Prince Chan of the Crown!” The White Rabbit spread out his arms wide in welcome. “I don’t often get royalty in my club--lots of celebrities and the like.” He leaned over to one of his guards, speaking in Egyptian Arabic and asking for drinks for the group.

“Yes. It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” Chan bowed deep.

“So respectful!” The White Rabbit chuckled, “You can all call me Bun. We’re all friends here. And you...who might you be?” Bun pointed a finger at Minho who stepped forward.

“Baron Lee Minho, of Bulgeun as well.”

“Ah! And a Baron too! How did I get so lucky to have such honorable company?” Cat-face ticked her long nails against the club owner’s hand slung around her.

“You know what we’re here for, Rabbit. There’s no need for theatrics.” Jeongin huffed his words out with a confident breath.

“You’re the one that they call Fox? Rumor has it that you and Carroll have a rather...special...connection?”

The bartender arrived with drinks, each of them looking expensive with flecks of gold leaf floating on the surface of the clear liquid. Seungmin shot an apprehensive glare once the glasses were left on a small side table. As had been discussed previously, none of your group had picked up a glass.

The woman with beautiful tattoos stretched a hand down one of the White Rabbit’s thighs, reaching dangerously high between them; just enough to make you flinch from the forward action.

“Baby, I see that you’re playing a dangerous game towing this Price around, so of course I’m willing to help a friend of my friend. You’re lucky that I’ve got just the intel that you need. Some people just don’t know how to shut their mouths, especially when the get a taste of what I’m selling.”

“Oh? And what have you been hearing?”

You eyed a leather chair across from him seeing an opportunity.

“Your Highness.” You motioned for Chan to sit in the chair next to yours, swinging your legs crossed to peek from the thin white silk in full view for the Rabbit to see. After, you dipped your chin into your palm, just for the purpose of letting the front of your dress fall slightly. The prince remained quiet while taking his seat and spreading his legs out strongly.

“If it’s compensation that you need Rabbit, the Crown is also willing to make offers for added...persuasion.”

Chan crossed his fingers in his lap leaning forward. His words were slick and domineering--kingly even.

“Is that so?” The White Rabbit tugged at his lip with his teeth, “I wasn’t aware.”

“Double what The Agency is offering. If I like what you say.”

The club owner scoffed with a grin, “Oh, you’ll like what I say.” Cat-face lifted his drink to his lips, then wiped off the excess off with her finger. Both of the body guards appeared to tense before he spoke and tried to be inconspicuous while they reached for their decorated pieces resting in their waistbands.

“Hell, I’ll even tell you what they call themselves.”

In your impatience, you leaned forward, “Who are they?”

“They’re called The Spades. Some kind of new crime syndicate that’s been fucking up my business and making bargains with my customers. Of course, as you know...I work in a very lucrative business.”

“Naturally.”

“They’ve been stockpiling shit like crazy: all kinds of weapons, any kind that you can think of outside of fucking nukes. They’ve even tapped into drugs as well to make extra on the side. I don’t know what it is that they’re doing that makes them so appealing, but suddenly I’m missing out on millions because of those fuckers. They’ve got someone masterminding it all too--some crazed bastard. I’ve been trying to find him ever since they popped up.” He resumed his grasp on both of his women who cuddled into him.

“Mastermind? The one who’s running the whole operation? You know him?” Both you and your partner locked eyes quick enough for the other man to not take notice.

“No, one of his cronies. He runs the business. He’s illusive and fucking insane. Someone whispered once that he’s psychotic or something like that. You think that I’m bad...”

“Who?? Who is he? Where can we find him?”

“Slow your role there doll, I’m just getting to the good part.” The Rabbit nodded for another sip of his drink. “He’s got several names depending on who you’re talking to. Fucking funnily enough, I’ve heard that he goes by “Hatter,” or more commonly “Joker.” He deals in anything: arms, drugs, sex...and he works for The King.”

“The King?” Chan butted in with the mention of a royal name.

“Not your silly little king, prince. The King. The one who runs it all. He tells The Spades what to do. They’re everywhere, taking over every sector in every nation. They’re trying to dismantle it all--every political system, monarchy, presidency...everything. It looks like they’re starting with you, prince. The Spades preach about chaos. Every man for himself...but it’s a lie. Why the hell else would they be stockpiling? They’re trying to take it all over.”

Seungmin gulped audibly as he sunk to the back of the group.

“When there’s no more control the ones with the most resources always end up on top.” The young student whispered.

“This King, do you know who he is?” Jeongin spoke over Seungmin to detract attention from him.

“Nope.” The White Rabbit swung his legs up on the small coffee table with alligator leather shoes. “I’ve been a little focused on taking down the Joker at the moment, for your information.”

“What’s your intel on him then? He must know how to get to The King.” Minho pushed to the front of the group right to Chan’s side. “We’re not satisfied with your information yet.”

The Baron’s sudden demand surprised you: he had been timid before--so you had thought.

The club owner looked to Chan, keeper of his “persuasion” who nodded to prompt him for more.

“He’s on some island off Greece. Private. Tight security, the kind that could shoot you out of the sky.”

“Impressive.” You tutted, feigning confidence once more. “What more do you know?”

The woman with the bangled necklace whispered something in his ear once peeking at a small old-model cellphone in her hand, brushing her lips over his earlobe. Over the sound system, the jazz music turned sultry, and both women moved to join the other intoxicated clubbers in the back to sway around brass poles.

“There’s the freckled bastard. He’s the grunt--and the one that’s been chasing you I think. Real nuisance isn’t he? He’s the Knave. Had a few run ins with him myself.”

You thought back to the gas station and the black SUVs. Between all the shards of glass, it had been hard to make anyone out, but you had figured that he had must’ve been one of the men throwing their bodies out of the windows to shoot.

The Rabbit chuckled out with some kind of hand signal to his guards. “Knowing him, he could be right outside my door for that matter.”

Jeongin’s eyes flew open, sending you “the look.” Your time was running out. Judging by the way that you hadn’t noticed that the Rabbit’s women had cleared out the other clubbers from the room, they must’ve known something that you didn’t. The club owner stood up with a languid stretch and cracked his knuckles.

“We probably don’t have much more time before they come in here guns blazing. Best protect your prince, hm?”

“Rabbit! You must know something about The King?!” You crossed the room to grab at his frim and fuzzy arm.

He slyly smiled, amused by your grip, “Like I said doll, no one knows much about him. Your Baron has got it right. Start with the Joker. But...” His grin cracked even wider, “Good luck.”

Seungmin tugged at Two’s dress coat as the two bulky bodyguards took The Rabbit by the arms to escort him.

“What's going on??” The young man’s voice cracked with urgency.

“Ready that gun of yours.” Two said lowly with gritted teeth.

He strode across the room with his fur coat lazily swaying, then raised the golden rings on his fingers to the air as he exited. He threw his yellow tinted glasses back on, before turning back to your stunned group.

“I estimate that you’ve got...three minutes? --Oh! And one more thing!”

The white fabric of your dress swept to the side, revealing your thigh holster which you grabbed at quickly.

“What?!”

“Every King’s got his Queen? Does he not?”

The enigmatic club owner slipped into the shadows of his private room, leaving your group with the sound of clambering feet on the floor above, followed by muffled gunshots.

“They’re here?” Seungmin readied his small handgun as he was told and looked to the ceiling where the lights flickered from the commotion. “They found us?”

Two twirled two knives in his hands with a silvery glint. Both of the blades were a bit on the shorter side, but you were certain that he knew how to use them. “They’re always following us.”

“We need to get out of here.” Lee Minho drew out his own gun concealed by his suit. It was custom with a pearl handle. You had seconds to make out the insignia, but you could make out the shape of what looked like a red rose. “The place must be crawling with them. We need to find the exit.”

Your partner nodded while taking his own gun. “Stay close, Your Highness. Follow me.”

“Bee?” The prince called your name with a worried cross between his brows. “Give me a gun. Hand-to-hand is nothing against these guys. I’ll stay close. I promise.”

While he held your eyes earnestly, the way that his chest heaved up and down told you something much different.

“You can handle it?”

“I can.”

Jeongin passed him a Glock from the holster strapped behind his shoulders.

You made your way back through halls lit by hissing fluorescent lights with a white burn to them. The crates of weaponry stretched on and on, adding to your unease knowing what could happen if a bullet were to be fired in this hallway. Thick rats skittered in the dank edges of the hall and weaved between boxes labeled in Spanish.

“Drugs.” Minho gripped his gun tighter. “From the looks of it, cocaine.”

Above your heads, a giant boom resounded and dust with drywall fell from the lights that flickered harder.

“Its a fucking maze down here.” Jeongin tapped at his watch in an attempt to find a schematic of the place.

The college student wetted his lips. “At least we’re not up there with them.”

“At least the lead worked out. We know more about these...Spades than we did before. It’s a start.” You tailed the back of the group with careful footsteps and the click of your heels against the cement flooring.

Another resounding boom echoed followed by the shrill screams of clubbers above. It sounded hellish--you could hear the raw fear in their voices. The music thudded on, likely abandoned by someone running for their life. The Prince’s knuckles turned white holding onto his piece of metal near the front of the group.

“F, you know the way up?”

“I-I think. We should be approaching some stairs soon, but there’s nottelling who will be on the other side.”

Two tore off his sunglasses and shoved them into his breast pocket. “We’ll be damn lucky if they haven’t found the hotel yet. If not, we’ve got to run.”

“My laptop??” Seungmin whimpered.

“That damn Chromebook? Don’t worry about it, your life is more important.” Jeongin scoffed. “The Agency can set you up with something even better.”

“I can’t believe that at a time like this all I can think about is my stupid computer.” The young man shook the thought out of his head.

“Stairs up ahead.” Jeongin pointed. “Get ready.”

“Chan?” You pulled at the prince’s trim to his coat.

“I’m fine Bee. Honestly. I trust you.” He attempted a smile. The same smile, that damned charming one that couldn’t get out of your head.

Minho looked back to the prince too with worry, it had been the most sincere motion that you had seen him do as of yet. He reached out to squeeze the royal’s shoulder with a soft smile.

“Don’t go dying on us Your Highness. Think about what that would mean for the kingdom?” He chuckled.

“I’ll try my best,” The prince returned the gesture.

Jeongin reached for the metal door handle to the teal green door cracking with paint. The sound of machine guns had grown even louder, followed by the sound of the shells hitting the wooden dance floor. The air was thin where it crept under the door and carried with it the horrid smell of smoking guns and spilled alcohol.

“Two, Bee, form rank around the group, I’ll lead.”

Two nodded, popping gum into his mouth and blowing large electric blue bubble. “Can do.” Both of his hands tightened around his blades.

“One...Two...Three!”

Time slowed the second that the door opened, and your ears rang with the deathly silence. Bodies to the left and right of you became a blur and they fell to the floor in the silence with their limbs twitching until they didn’t move at all. White collars turned red, as did the white tablecloths of the standing tables. The strobes pranced around the room in a multicolored shower that was as blinding and stained your eyes.

The men in black suits and leather gloves scattered around the room with their red crests glinting. They shouted commands at eachother, but to you, all you could see was the way that their lips curved and cracked. In front of you, your partner leads with a hand gesture that you had memorized from training, and all of your focus was drawn the the back of the group. The trigger of your gun was cold on your finger: you pulled and pulled not even pausing to feel the way that it fought back against your wrist. The men were sprinting with their own guns tight in their hands, but each of them fell before they could get close.

Two’s mouth was in a flat line as he threw tiny blades from his hands to the chests of men running across the balconies and hiding from behind tables. He appeared to have an infinite amount in his coat and saved the longer and more lethal ones for close connections, subsequently dipping his own fingers in red.

The young college student trudged on in the center of the group with his head tucked firmly between his two shoulders. Clear streams of tears fell down his eyes, but he wiped at them furiously between each shot that he took with his small handgun. Next to him, the two royals kept their own heads low aiming shots around them to backup you and your partners.

Their footsteps came echoing behind you, and you walked backwards, taking aim with one eye squinted, while barking out commands from your mouth that you barely even understood. Your heartbeat bumped in your chest nearly in tune with the thudding 808′s of the music that reverberated in your ears. Each of the Spades moved as if they were shadows over the bodies of the fallen, leaping and jumping, nearly floating over dining tables and sweeping off the glassware and silverware with them as they did so.

“BEE, I’M ALMOST OUT!” Jeongin screamed to you nearly before reaching the front revolving doors.

Two tossed another magazine in the young agent’s direction, then threw another dagger with startling accuracy.

For seconds at a time you could see how Minho’s eyes had narrowed with his aim, and he too met every target exactly where he wanted. You figured that the royal must have trained himself well to have that kind of precision. The way that he appeared perfectly calm was startling: his dark eyes squinted and he turned his body swiftly with little effort.

“Fuck--I’M OUT OF ROUNDS!” The prince bellowed before ducking under Minho’s arm which immediately swung over him.

You closed in closer to the group, using your body as a shield for the prince’s back.

Your partner cast aside fallen chairs and tables in his wake, as one of the thugs charged at him. In response, he threw his gun into his waistband, opting to slung the man with a hurried uppercut that sent him spitting blood to the floor before falling, “We’re almost there! Keep pushing!!”

“SHIT!!!” Seungmin groaned out before dropping his small gun to the ground, he trembled with his leg dragging behind him, then soon his pants soaked with a dark stain to his slacks.

“BEE LOOK OUT!!” A voice screamed, seconds before you could register it.

Your head whipped back to the chaos of the club, seeing the “freckled bastard” himself point his decorated riffle at you point blank with a wicked grin on his face. He looked purely evil. There was something about the way that his ears poked, or how his eyes upturned that made him look devilish when his pearly white teeth peeked once he took his shot. He had ashy blonde hair that had strung with sweat over his forehead, and blood wetted the tip of his dress shoes. He cocked his head to the side, as he did too with his gun before the deafening shot cracked through the room.

You were shocked trying to memorize his face, and frozen in your fear from the barrel of the gun facing you right between the eyes.

An excruciatingly tight grasp at your arm pulled you to the side before you could react, throwing you to the hardwood floors before whoever it was pulled themselves in front of the bullet. Your vision was rocked when you hit the floor, missing the glass revolving door by centimeters.

“Y/N!” Your partner screamed, waking you from your haze as the room started to piece back together. “You good?!”

Another hand grabbed you to your feet before shoving you through the door, lightly slinging your arm around his shoulder before taking your gun from your trembling hand to take a few more shots. You realized it was Two this close, and tiny flecks of red splattered at his neck.

“Fuck--give me that--” You grabbed the gun from his hand to fire every bullet that was left at the freckled bastard until you couldn’t any more, and the cool of the evening stung at your heaving lungs once your group reached the sidewalk.

Outside of the venue, clubbers scrambled and ran the streets still shrieking in their fear and tripping over their heeled shoes.

“Chan?? Chan--where-where’s the prince??” The words spilled from your lips in your pure adrenaline.

Right behind you only a couple paces away, the prince stood pale with Seungmin holding between them a groaning and gasping Minho who barely held on to the two men. A bullet wound soaked his black suit jacket, and the red crept up to his white frilled collar.” The wound made a hole right in his shoulder with a visible circle.

Jeongin sprinted to the back of the group looking disheveled himself with sleeves hastily pulled up to his elbows. “Shit--shit!!”

“S-move aside. MOVE!” You commanded the whimpering young man who gave you Minho’s other arm. You wrapped around his wasit and dragged the heavy weight of the man who had just saved your life.

The prince dryly smacked his lips then scanned the street for more of the Spades in his daze.

“Y-you okay?” The words dried up your tongue.

“Yeah...yeah, I’m fine, are you?” His energy had been drained of him, and his knuckles were also cracked, likely from having to throw punches that you haven’t even seen him take.

Gunshots echoed further down the street followed by the screeching of wheels and more panicked yells. The chirps of cop cars pulled up to the scene and their husky demands rounded up the escapees in rapid-fire Arabic.

Jeongin sprinted back with his white hair bouncing to a taxi nearest an intersection. He threw the door open apologizing profusely the best he could before pulling the driver out of the driver’s seat and to the cement. He cursed out loudly in response to which Jeongin tossed out some bills haphazardly to his chest.

“Get in, GET IN!” He called to your group while tapping on the metal side of the vehicle.

Both you and the pricne guided the injured royal in to the backseat between you.

“Minho--Minho, hold on--” Your nervous hands held his pale face in your palms.

The tear of your dress filled the small compartment, prompting the prince to snatch his hand into the other man’s firmly.

“Minho--you fucking dumb asshole--you had to go and he the hero didn’t you?” Chan smiled hopefully.

“Ar-are you alright?” He coughed, “Your Highness?”

“Shut up.” Chan ruffled his hair with another adoring smile. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

Although it was silk, you used every inch of your dress tear to tie around the baron’s shoulder tightly in an attempt to add pressure to the open wound.

“Bee--” Minho started with a lazy glare.

“--Keep talking Minho, look at me. You’re gonna feel sleepy, stay awake. You did great, thank you so much for doing that to me. Thank you.” You grabbed his opposite hand firmly. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Lee Minho laughed. “Don’t mention it. And--if you wanted me to keep talking...I wanted to tell you that you’re really stunning Bee. How you handled all th-that. I was really impressed.”

“Hm, I was impressed too.” In his own way, like this, bloodied and a bit delirious, Lee Minho really was as handsome as he let on.

The taxi car whipped around another corner with wind whipping in the windows and each of your masses jostled in the car as if bumped over the curb. The hotel wasn’t that far from The Tea Party, and you knew that any moment you would reach it, but each second stretched longer and longer.

“Fox?! We’re not there?”

“Fuck--Bee, the whole city is crawling with cops, everywhere I turn, they’re on the hunt, The Spades are everywhere I can’t make it back--no doubt they’re already there...”

In the front seat, Seungmin clung to Two as if his life depended on it as his whole body shook and Two tore his own jacket sleeve to close off the young man’s wound on his leg.

“Wha-what are we going to do?? S-shit!! Ouch!!!” The young student gritted his teeth in his pain while his leg shook terribly. He sobbed, “It hurts, really, really bad!!”

“I planned for this.” Jeongin’s eyes flicked in the review mirror to you in the back. “I asked Carroll to set up for us a secondary place if something went down and we couldn’t make it to the hotel. I figured...if anything happened or if they found us--”

“--Get us there, fucking drive Fox, Minho needs first aid, right fucking now, he’s bleeding too fucking much.”

“I know, I know!!”

“How far is it?!”

“Not far, I promise, twenty minutes--tops.”

“Make it ten!!!”

Jeongin floored it, running lights and becoming a stream under the skyscrapers of Cairo. From the small skylight of the taxi, thin clouds streaked in the evening sky and mixed with the glow of the city. Far, far, above your head, you prayed for the first time in years that you could make it in time.

Seungmin sobbed with puffy eyes from the front seat and writhed, “Hurry! Hurry!” He begged.

Minho’s head lulled in the backseat as he bled though the white silk binding him. His head bounced back and forth from you to the prince with glossy marbles for eyes that blinked slowly. The prince rested his hand on the baron’s thigh and rubbed calming little circles into it.

“Minho, you did so well. Look at me.” Chan coaxed, causing the other to smile adorably grim.

Minho twitched before rolling his head over to the prince. “Your Highness, i-if I may be so bold...I-I’ve got...I’m crush on you.” He finished his sentence with a wrinkled smile.

You scoffed out with a laugh while making knowing eye contact with the prince who laughed out lightly too.

“He sounds like someone I know.” You winked at the royal.

The taxi made one final turn to an alley filled with potholes that jostled each wheel of the car.

“This is it! Right here!” The young agent whipped into a one car garage hidden into the alley. The darkness of the garage filled the car, and snuffed out all of the light from the street, and even muffled the faint sirens of police as they whizzed past. The night was still full of gunshots, but at least now they sounded far enough away to be safe.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The safe house was a modest two floored apartment outfitted with the normal security system of The Agency: window locks and cameras in every corner of every room. As expected, each of the rooms was covered in a fine layer of dust, and the old smell hung with flecks of the material stuck on lampshades and wafting in the light.

Work had been delegated between you and your partners, with the two other men helping treat Seungmin in the second bedroom out of three while you and the prince aided Minho.

The windows were left open to let in some fresh air, also letting in the faint sounds of the city which still surged with life even late into the night. Still, the smell of the desert came floating into the room with a welcome sense of tranquility.

The royal lay on the bed with cracked pale lips while you set to work dabbing at his wound gently with gauze, cleaning the area around the bullet wound. Fearful to cause more bleeding, the bullet would stay where it was for a few moments more for another layer of wrapping. The prince remained quiet, passing you materials as needed with hands stained pink from the other man’s blood.

“How are you feeling?” Chan quietly asked.

“Hurts like a bitch,” Minho smiled, “You ever been shot before?”

The prince shook his head.

“Well, I hope that you never are. Feels like your whole body gets stirred up from the impact and then there’s the sting.”

Carefully you pulled back the remains of the baron’s shirt while lifting him slightly off the bed. As you swept the fabric from behind him, you noticed the thin red line tracing around his shoulder bade which you figured to be blood at first.

“What...what’s this?”

“Oh,” Minho shied, “It’s a tattoo.”

“You’ve got a tattoo? For a royal?” Chan slicked back Minho’s sweaty locks. “You really are full of surprises.”

Gently you laid the baron back down to lay with his new wrappings. “What is it?”

He paused, wetting his lips quickly before he spoke. “It’s a red rose. It’s a bit large--I know--not typical for royals. Don’t worry, you’re the only royal that knows that I have it.”

“Why a red rose?”

Below you, Minho looked relaxed and calm, beautiful even like this bare-chested under the single lamp-light of the bedroom.

“Well...you know the significance of symbols and insignias. We’ve all got our own.” He grinned out while playing with the prince’s free hand.

“I’ve got my white rose, Bee’s got her clock: seems like we’ve all got our own thing.” Chan agreed, watching the way that his fingers interlocked with the other man’s.

In the opposite bedroom, Seungmin cried out sharply to the tune of Jeongin chuckling out, “I’ve got you, you fucker!” The clink of metal fell into the little bowl they used: the bullet was out of the poor boy.

You sighed knowing that the damage caused to your group could’ve been much worse, yet you had made a skillful escape. Still, the thought of the bodies littering the floor...the silence that rang in your ears from the pace of it all and how the energy of survival started to wear off...it was truly gruesome.

“Minho--really, I appreciate you taking a hit for me like that. No one has ever done something like that for me...and you barely know me...”

The baron smiled, taking your hand in his too. “Like I said, it’s fine. Had I not, you wouldn’t have been able to help us out of there...even if you were dragging my ass for the tail end of it.”

The breeze flew in with the dusty curtains; just cold enough to make you shiver in your thin dress.

The prince looked to the both of you, “What happens now?”

Chan himself was a proper mess: he no longer looked like the perfect vision of regality from the earlier evening. He looked like a man, a regular man, scared, unsure, and confused. His knuckles were cracked...and you had promised that you had never wanted to see him harmed again.

The prince’s eyes softened, softer than they had been, soft like they had been the evening before when you had broken.

“We survive. The best we can. We recuperate for a couple days, and ask Carroll what the next steps are. I’d guess it would be Greece then.”

Minho leaned up with a little grunt to face you. “I’m coming with. I can help. I can be valuable if you need another set of hands on a gun.”

“I think you mean hand. Your arm is gonna be out of commission for a little while.”

He smirked, “Still...”

The sweeping red outline of rose peeked to his shoulder, and you wondered how far it really spread.

“Bee, I don’t think that I’ve thanked you.” Chan let the words fill earnestly, throwing that same damned smile at you.

“Chan...you don’t have to thank me. You’re my prince.”

The royal nodded with a contented little grin that tugged a dimple on the side of his face. You found both men looking at you as such, as if they were waiting, or anticipating the unsaid as you were.

Somehow, the room turned silent once more: a void quiet enough to hear your heart beating in your ears.

You bridged the gap, pulling Chan close to you as you pressed your lips against his, using your stained hand to pull his lapel into your body while he melted perfectly into you as he had done before. His mouth tasted slightly like the salt of blood, but that was of no matter to how sweet he was when he gently let himself unfold for you, gasping lightly against you. Chan’s hand reached to your arm to caress the goosebumped skin down, giving you another reason to shiver. You found your own hand tie into his light brown locks and pull deeply at the roots with depths of curiosity and want. Your tongue gently explored his lower lip before teasing right into his mouth which was even warmer than you had imagined it being.

Your other hand found the torso of Minho: bare and quivering under the touch of your fingertips which traced each muscle there. He let out a drawn out sigh, then drew his own hand down the curve of your body to your hip, finally working it back up over your belly to your breasts thinly protected by the dress. He sat up higher and brought his lips to the fabric, kissing right into your belly with the warmth of his mouth. He paused, giving you moments to crave that same feeling on your lips and prompting you to bow down and indulge yourself in the taste of his mouth too.

Chan’s hungry hands came tip-toeing over your back as he watched, and slipped one finger under your thin dress strap to pull it down and press kisses to your shoulder. With his other hand, he let it fall down Minho’s back: over the red rose, right to his thigh which he squeezed at firmly: right between the heat of his legs.

Minho was different from Chan: rougher with his advances, but still addictive in how he would test the corners of your mouth with each kiss more courageous than the last. He ruffled up your torn dress, then let the silk fill up his hands before pulling it in ways to meet your skin with his. Slowly, Chan did the same, edging a hand up to your ass from the frayed bottom of the once-gorgeous dress.

The bed was just big enough for two, but with this new interlocking of limbs as close as possible, you melded into one. Both you and Chan crept over the man between you, painting the blank canvas of his chest with seething hot lips and biting at the flesh of his skin lightly. Minho’s back arched from the beautiful sensation, causing him to giggle in his euphoria.

In the middle, you found Chan once more, and held him close, as close as you had wanted for longer than you had admitted.

“Oh Bee...” He moans into your mouth while releasing all of his glee onto your tongue.

“Chan, I’m not scared anymore. I don’t even care.”

The prince shuddered at the thought, and held you back just as tight finding the corners of your dress to pull over your head.

“Oh my god,” Minho adores you, then reaches out to pull you to his chest.

This mysterious man, melts for you too, whimpering perfectly between your lips. Your legs find their way around his thigh to grind at lightly. There's an innocence to his eyes, much like that of the prince: its a kind of blind adoration that you know all too well. His dedication to Chan, and his gesture to you: the thick bandages around his arm: you find your apprehension slipping to nothing.

Your fingers loop around the white lace of your panties as you kneel above both men, and you swipe your thumb over both of their glistening and trembling lips.

“Well boys, how about I’ll make both of you mine tonight?”

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @cherrychngkyn @bowlofblueberries @lmhmins @eunaeiekim

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extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

Text

tis the damn season

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: none

a/n: this is the end and i’ll need therapy because dear god i hate it when any of my projects end. thank you so much for supporting it and reading. hope you enjoy xx

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS

There's an ache in you put there by the ache in me but if it's all the same to you it's the same to me ...

There was a sea of people, suitcases rolling everywhere, people hugging their loved ones and there she was, straight out of the airplane holding her worn out, beat up suitcase with her name tag on it. It was a cold day, one of those that reminded her of being by the window with her mother doodling on the fogged glass as the snow laid on the green grass of her childhood home yet there was no snow, just cold. She knew to walk through the doors that led to the arrivals but she stood back, almost as if the cold froze her to her spot. Returning to her hometown meant looking at the road not taken before, the road she couldn’t have taken. Nevertheless, in the midst of chaos of people coming back home for the holidays, she ended up being almost dragged into the arrivals hall.

Immediately she spotted Wanda and Pietro dressed in thick winter coats and hats who were holding a sign with her name. She put on her best photographic smile, walking over to the twins who rushed over to hug her tightly, something she missed dearly when she was away.

- Finally! - the brown haired girl hugged her best friend tightly. - You can never leave me again for this long.

- It’s only for a few weeks, Wan.

- Let me savour it. - she loosened up the hug, handing Y/N’s bags to Pietro who just shrugged off and started walking to the car. - I have so much to tell you. Remember Elizabeth, the girl I copied off for Maths? Well, she got married but she had a baby like 5 months later which doesn’t adds up.

- Shotgun wedding. - Pietro added. - It was so tacky, absolutely awful. I fell asleep for at least five hours.

- Very good gift bags though. I took an extra one for you.

The three walked onto the cold town she thought she’d never have the change to return to. The moment she woke up from what she thought was certain death, her father and the chief of police were already telling her they had set up a witness protection program for her, all the way in Massachusetts. It was nice, she liked the weather, the warm fall colours during October but she didn’t felt at home. She had a new name, new story, in this one she didn’t even have her father not that in reality she ever did. She sat in the passenger seat of Wanda’s car, listening to all the news she seemed to have kept locked inside her mind for when she returned. Her mind as going haywire about what she wanted to know about, she wanted to know about Bucky.

She knew he couldn’t be happy if he had discovered it which she guessed by now he had. Several times her father had told her he’d employed several men to try and find her and had even told her to stay away until Christmas. Of course the only reason he wanted her around was so she could drive him from the bar after he drank his weight in beer but she couldn’t help but do it, she promised her mum she would take care of her dad no matter what happened. Yet, she still wanted to know about Bucky. She wanted to know if he hated her, if he had put a hit on her head. It kept her awake at night, every night, bugging her like a bad memory.

- Are you sure you wanna stay at your dad’s? You can stay with me and Vision.

- Of course she doesn’t want to stay with you. What kind of name is Vision anyway? - Pietro rolled his eyes.

- HIS PARENTS WERE HIPPIES. We’ve had this discussion. - Wanda playfully threw a empty water bottle at his brother. - Don’t you want to spend Christmas with someone who will actually be in the house during Christmas?

- I promised my mother, Wan.

- C’mon. If it’s because me and Vision will be there, there’s no problem. Remember Michael? He still wants to go out with you.

- I don’t want to go out with him.

- Yeah, Wanda. Y/N liked James Barnes. - Pietro muffled in a laugh, receiving a death glare from his sister. - What? It’s true.

- Y/N does not like someone who wants her dead. Don’t you remember when one of his friends was on campus and he had a gun?

- What? It’s just like Mr and Mrs Smith and for one, it’s something I’m interested in. Good for her.

- What about you, Pietro? Where’s your girlfriend? - Y/N smirked, crossing her arms as Wanda parked in front of Y/N’s childhood home.

- Which one?

- You’re a lost cause. - she opened the passenger’s door, going around to retrieve her suitcase.

- Call me if you’re alone during Christmas or Christmas Eve. Vision and I will come and set up a dinner with you.

- It won’t be necessary.

- Just call me, okay?

- Okay, Wan. I’ll see you tomorrow.

The red head smiled before driving away. Y/N stood on the cobblestones of her sidewalk waving goodbye before it was time to go meet her father. Her relationship with him was at best strained. When they didn’t find the shipment they wanted, he subconsciously blamed her along with constantly talking about how Edward could’ve died but he was luckily alive with a limp. She wished he had more than a limp but saying anything against his ward was absurd and completely forbidden. She was almost sure he’d spend more time at the hospital with him than her. Nevertheless, she was here and as she stepped into her porch, there were no Christmas lights, no garlands.

Flashbacks invaded her mind of sitting on the wooden stairs as her mother wrapped every surface she could in garland, wrapping the lights around the columns while her dad worked overtime. The two would then sit on the stairs with cups of hot cocoa, Y/N always preferring white chocolate hot cocoa with pink marshmallows and watched the lights go up for the first time. Every year she expected there to be lights after her mum was gone but they never showed. One year she tried to put them up but she soon came to realise the lights that held whatever sweet memories an object could hold were lost and gone. Everything was gone. She didn’t know why she expect it to be here.

Her keys jiggled as she opened the door to her childhood home. It was always messy, dusty, her mother’s yellow coat still hanging on the coat hanger the day she returned from the hospital. The house was a snapshot of that day, never changing, her father didn’t allow her. She knew why, she always knew why, she just refused to say it, she refused to say whom her father believed was the cause of her mother’s death. She refused to say it because she knew who it was and it wasn’t who her father thought it was.

- Dad? - she left her suitcase against the entry wall, walking further into her house and into the kitchen, liquor bottles on the floor near the chair were her father was sitting, still in his uniform, shirt tightened over his beer belly. - Hey dad, how are you?

- Y/N, darling, can you get some some of the liquor from the cabinet?

- Sure, dad. - she turned around, reaching into the cabinet, right at the end of it where she kept a bottle with water which tricked him all the time. - How’s the precinct?

- I think you know.

- You shouldn’t make catching him your target. Your target should be to protect innocent civilians.

- What would you know about it? You failed us.

- I’m sorry. - she looked down at her shoes. - You know ... I smell snow.

- You can’t smell snow, Y/N. There’s no such thing.

- C’mon... - she held his hands in hers. - We can make some hot cocoa, like mum used to do.

- Your mother would’ve been ashamed of you. - she shook his hands away from her, pointing his finger at her. - You caused another officer to get shot, you have no integrity. I shouldn’t have put you in the case.

- I didn’t. - she took a step back. - I told you I didn’t and you don’t believe me. Barnes didn’t try to shot me and Edward stepped in, you saw the report, the bullets don’t match up. He tried to shot at Barnes.

- He’s the most experienced shot I know, if he wanted to have gotten Barnes, he would’ve.

- He would’ve if I hadn’t stepped in front of it.

She turned around, tears watering her eyes and making her vision blurry as she walked further an further away. She kept walking, away from her house, away from her street until she was the furthest from it she could. The wind blasted her hair in different direction, freezing through her thin, useless jackets. She could smell it was going to snow, she could always smell it, the smell of freshly fallen and there she was, having forgotten her jacket. It was late into the night, no establishment was open and all she could wear were her boots against the slight frozen layer upon the cobblestones. She should feel hurt but she found herself in a numbness of state, the image of waking up in a hospital room all by herself much clear in her mind. She continued to walk until a purple light lit up her face.

She looked upwards, the title of the old establishment she used to work in blasted into purple light. Now, she was a rational being, a true believer of think before you act but she was cold and seemingly no longer held fear of her own death. Life is ephemeral and if she was meant to die, if fate was a thing then let it be. She went through the bodyguards entering the club that despite being almost Christmas Eve was filled with people.

Meanwhile James was leaning against one of his club’s walls, cigarette hanging from his lips. Filthy habit he knew, but he did it when he stressed. It soothed him, yet it seemed like all self destroying things soothed him. His eyes lingered against the empire he had built which now seemed so stupid. All material things and a few kills to remember him by when he died. He wondered if they would even remember or if when he breathe his last breathe, he’d be erased as quickly as he came to be. No one remembers what came in between and James did not create the business, he just perfected it. Nothing surprised this old dog anymore until tonight. He thought his brain was playing tricks on him as he saw her pass through the doors, hair covered in a knitted hat yet as quickly as he saw her enter, the quicker he saw her leave.

- Steve, follow her. - he immediately told the blonde who was happily chatting with his newly wedded bride. - Tell me where she stops. You better not lose her out sight or you won’t have any children.

Y/N was fast out, the moment she felt the warmth of the club. She no longer knew what she was doing, much too lost in whatever pain mixed with unresolved feelings she had. Nevertheless, she was out, and immediately calling Wanda. She was out on a date but offered to stay at her house and that was enough. She needed to sleep, consider what she was doing here and then return to Massachusetts. She could get used to being Elizabeth, the orphan girl who went to Harvard. She could be Betty, she could be someone on paper. She just didn’t know how to be Y/N anymore. She had to go back.

Wanda’s new place wasn’t thankfully too far and per usual she hide the key behind her petunia vase. Inside it looked exactly like what she believed her best friend’s dream home looked like but she deserved it. She deserved Vision, she deserved all this happiness and she wished she could stay behind and watch it.

She stripped out of her frosted clothes, walking into the bathroom to take a warm shower. “It’s no use dwelling on the past, sweetheart. It’s already gone.” her mother used to tell her and she guessed she was right, what use was it for her to wonder what if? There was no what if. She was a dead woman if he knew, but Y/N was already dead even if she didn’t. The last name ended with her, the genetic tree of her ancestors ended with her and she guessed it fit, destroyer of trees and blood.

She felt the warm water drip down her body and onto the porcelain floor of the shower, the foam making the air smell like wild daisies on a summer afternoon. It felt warm, it felt nice, thoughtless, to be only the essence of life without the obligation of thought. Just seeing, living, greatly dissolving into the fabric of nature. Stepping out of the shower, thought evaded. She was expecting to see him, to look at him one last time before she was gone. Yet again, what use was to look into someone who’d she betrayed? It was no use.

She involved herself in the white fluffy towel, walking into the kitchen to rummage through whatever Wanda and Vision had. Wanda was always a fun of tropical fruit so she knew she probably kept something yummy for her.

- You’ve always toyed with probability, petal. - she turned around once she head that voice, heart clenched yet beating faster at the same time. - It is very dangerous for you and for you friend. Easy lock, windows open.

- If you’re going to do it, please do it outside where we won’t stain my friend’s apartment.

- Oh petal ... - he took the gun from the holster which was always close to his legs. She had been shot before, she didn’t feel it, it didn’t hurt. She closed her eyes, waiting for the sound but the only sound that came was his gun hitting the floor. She opened her sides, watching as he slide the gun over to her, it reaching her feet. - I thought we were done with you being afraid of me.

- James ...

- Bucky. - he corrected her, still standing on the opposite side of the room. She stood there motionless but he started walking up to her. - You think I want to kill you.

- The worse thing I have ever did was what I did to you. Besides, Wanda saw one of your friends on campus with a gun.

- We always carry guns, petal. The question is what have you done to me?

- I’ve betrayed you.

- Have you? Because I don’t remember my shipment being intercepted not that it would, I lied to you.

- You lied to me?

- I never doubted your ... your affections towards me but I did doubt your loyalty to your father. I was surprised.

- Were you?

- No, I lied. What I was surprised about what that you took a bullet meant for me. What the fuck were you thinking? You could’ve died.

- I don’t know.

- You ran away from me. I wanted ... I ...

- What did you want, Bucky? - she cocked her head to the side, examining him and whatever his thoughts were doing to him.

- I wanted you. I wanted to have been by your side when you took a bullet for me, I wanted you in my bed, not in my bar I hate watching other men ogle you. I wanted you to marry me and carry my child. I wanted to give you everything I have and some more, all of what I have and all of what I don’t have. I wanted you, the captain’s daughter. I adored you.

- You don’t know me.

- I know you. You’re a terrible liar, can’t lie to save your life. Your heart ... - he stepped closer and closer to her. - Is on your sleeve. You might not know who you are or you might forget it but when you do remember I control everything but you control me.

- Bucky ...

- I just wanted to see you’re alive and well. I’ll leave and promise you’ll never see me again if you want.

- You didn’t ask me what I wanted.

- What do you want, petal?

- I want you to kiss me.

- I know where that ends, petal. - he smirked, hand searching for hers. - Very tempting of you to do those things to me.

5 YEARS LATER

It was cold, the sort of cold Bucky had began to hate, the sort of cold he felt whenever she left early in the morning to go to work but it was the sort of cold which mixed with sweet memories. Nevertheless, there he was, at another meeting, hearing whatever bullshit excuses Rumlow had to give him. Steve had been the one to suggest taking his territory rather than just off him yet taking care of a damaged business with an even more damaged partner was doing his head in. He stood against the new furnished couches of the bar, drinking his scotch as he heard Rumlow ramble and ramble about how he had good ideas. He had ideas, just not good ones. An hour late he was leaving the godless establishment to return home. He walked home as he always did during winter, watching the newly put up Christmas lights in the streets. His apartment wasn’t too far, having sold his previous one once Y/N moved back to Massachuts to buy one near her and then selling it once she graduated to buy another one. It was close to the bar and she liked it that way, constantly begging him not to go during Christmas and stay with her but business was business. Entering his home, the electrical fireplace was on and his heavily pregnant wife was barefoot, walking side to side and jumping into her dress.

- Stop jumping, you’ll fall and hurt yourself. - Bucky smirked, walking over to her and wrapping his arms around her body. - And we all know you can’t get up when you fall.

- So funny. - she playfully slapped him on the chest. - It’s almost as if this wasn’t your fault.

- How’s our little boy?

- How do you know it’s not a girl? - she smirked. - Nice try, Bucky but you’ll only know when the baby is born.

- You’re killing me here.

- Come on, we have to go to the twin’s baby shower.

- Explain to me again why did your friend decided to do a baby shower after the babies were born?

- So that she would tell us what size clothes they are. - she gave him a soft kiss, leaning against him. - You won’t be your usual grumpy, scary self. You’ll be good to the other dads.

- What will I tell the other dads when they ask me what I do?

- You’re a business man. - she straightened his suit’s lapel. - Isn’t that somewhat true?

- You’re lucky I adore you.

- Come on.

Bucky found it hard mixing both of their lifestyles, but he did it for her. God, he had done so much for her and he only wanted to do more for her. If someone had told him he’d beg the police captain to go to his wedding just to make Y/N happy, he would’ve laughed, yet Y/N deserved it. His father had pretty much set her aside once it came to light she was hanging out with him and he couldn’t help but feel guilty about it. He didn’t have many friends and those he had had completely relationships to the friends Y/N had, nevertheless he tried. He wanted to be the best husband and the best father he could possibly be. Bucky would lay sleepless every single night wondering how he’d do it. How would he go to profession day and tell kids about his job? He couldn’t or he’d traumatise them. Nevertheless, he worried. Y/N was going to be a great mum, the best mum even but him? He wasn’t so sure.

They reached Wanda’s place which was decorated with all sorts of baby blue decorations. 2 boys in one go. If Bucky suddenly had two kids, he would’ve had a heart attack. He barely knew he could be a good dad for one, imagine two.

- Oh my god, you’re huge. - Wanda said as she opened the door. - How come it’s not out yet?

- The baby’s stubborn like his father.

- More like his mother. - Wanda added. - Come see the twins.

There were two bassinets on the living room where Vision was frantically rocking them side to side, Pietro sat in the couch on his phone while most of the guests were still to arrive. Y/N looked over the bassinets, the two babies laying there wide awake which probably explained why Vision looked so overwhelmed.

- Why are they so big? - Y/N whispered to Bucky. - I can’t push something that big out of me.

- Well, think positive, at least you’re only pushing one out of you and not two.

- So that’s Billy and that’s Tommy. I think. - Wanda cocked her head to the side. - Well, Billy replies to his name and Tommy doesn’t.

- Can I hold one?

- Sure. Bucky, do you wanna hold one? - Wanda asked and before he could reply, the redhead had already put a baby in his arms. James hadn’t held a baby, he didn’t know how to hold a baby yet there it was, a baby. - Aw, look at that Billy or Tommy likes you.

- We’re still working on what colour we should dress one another so we know which one is which. - Vision added. - Pietro is still upset we didn’t name one Pietro.

- Y/N you will name your baby Pietro if it’s a boy.

- Absolutely not. - she said as she cooed the baby in her arms. - They’re so beautiful. Congratulations.

- Yeah ... - Bucky handed back the baby to Wanda. - Do you think I can use your balcony?

- Sure.

Y/N furrowed her browns, putting the baby back in his crib before excusing herself. She gave Bucky some time before following him and there he was, leaned against the wall, cigarette hanging from the middle of his lips as his wild blue eyes observed the night sky.

- It’s a filthy habit. - she walked into the balcony. - What’s stressing you?

- Nothing’s stressing me, petal.

- You always smoke when you’re stressed so let it out. What’s wrong? Is it Rumlow?

- Rumlow wishes he could stress me.

- Bucky.

- You’re pregnant, petal. Like ... really, really pregnant.

- We’ve established that. - she looked at her own bump. - You thought it was a food baby?

- I don’t know, looking at Wanda’s kids ... we will have a baby in less than a month and I am going to be a father and I will screw it up. I’m not ready.

- You’re stressed about being a dad? - she wrapped her arms around his neck, soft kind eyes looking at him. - Buck, everyone’s stressed with their first baby. You’re going to be a great dad.

- I should get a new job.

- Not this again.

- Yes. I need to get a new job so the baby ...

- Bucky, you don’t need a new job. - she interrupted him. - Your job won’t put the baby in danger because I won’t let it happen. I don’t know if you remember but I’m very good at deflecting bullets.

- Deflecting? - he laughed. - You’re very good at catching them.

- Either way, you’re going to be a great dad. Steve’s a great dad and he went parachuting without a parachute like an idiot. You take a parachute, at least.

- I see your point.

- James Barnes, in exactly five months you’re gonna be as good as a father as you could be. - she leaned against him, taking her opportunity to take the cigarette away from his mouth and tossing it out the balcony. Her eyes followed up to his face, intently on something. - What?

- I smell snow.

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imjustwritingg · 3 years

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maybe it was fate: chapter 3

Thank you to each and every one of you for showing your love for this fic. I'm so glad it's being enjoyed. Your comments and messages make me smile so big, and I can't thank you enough for reading. Enjoy the chapter and I'll see you again soon!

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It’s another night of tossing and turning, falling asleep too late, and when Hailey wakes up the next morning and looks at the time she curses to herself. Her alarm was set to go off thirty minutes before, but she had slept through it and has to be at the district in another thirty. Even with a three and a half year old and having a demanding job that leaves her on call almost daily and Vanessa being in college, Hailey has never been late to work.

She pulls herself out of bed, cursing to herself again when she realizes she doesn’t have time to shower, and quickly ties her hair up into a ponytail and dresses for the day all. She clips her badge, holsters her gun and pockets her phone like she does every day and trudges downstairs.

The lack of sleep and mental exhaustion over the last couple days has her yawning as she enters the kitchen, but the sight she sees makes her smile and immediately puts her at ease.

“Hi mama!”

She’s greeted with a toothy grin from her daughter and Vanessa smiles over at her as well from her place in front of the coffee machine. Hailey makes her way over to the little girl, who can just barely see over the countertop from a stool at the island, and kisses the top of her head before leaning down next to her.

Avery Charlotte Upton was the light of Hailey’s life and most days, the only light. She had been completely unexpected at a time when Hailey couldn’t say which way was up and which was down. She didn’t like to think about where she might have ended up if it hadn’t been for the arrival of the blonde haired, blue eyed mini version of herself.

“Morning baby. How’d you sleep?” Hailey asks as she reaches a hand out and runs her fingers through her daughter’s curls.

“Good. Aunt Nessie made me Eggo’s for breakfast!”

“She did? Lucky you. They good?”

Avery nods and holds out her fork towards Hailey. “Want a bite?”

Hailey smiles and shakes her head. “No thank you, you finish ‘em. They look yummy though.”

Her daughter goes back to eating her breakfast and Hailey stands up straight as Vanessa steps towards her and hands her a steaming mug of what she assumes is coffee.

“Morning sunshine,” Vanessa says to her with a smile still splayed on her face.

“Thank you,” Hailey says gratefully. “And good morning.”

“You didn’t eat last night,” Vanessa says, eyeing the blonde.

Hailey shakes her head. “Wasn’t too hungry after our conversation.”

Vanessa nods, a curious look on her face. “And you overslept this morning.”

Hailey nods in confirmation even though it wasn’t a question and takes a sip from her mug.

“You never oversleep,” Vanessa comments.

“Haven’t been sleeping well,” she says.

“Insomnia again?”

Hailey shrugs. “Not so much again. Don’t think it ever really left to be honest.”

“You should call Dr. Block.”

Hailey nearly winces at the mention of her therapist. A woman who she hasn’t spoken to since Avery was just about a year old. A woman who she thought she wouldn’t have to see again after convincing herself she was fine. That she was better. That she had moved on.

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Hailey tells her friend.

“Hailey – “

“Not now Vanessa.”

Her tone immediately quiets the brunette who lets out a sigh in concerning disagreement, but nods her head regardless.

“It’s almost eight,” Vanessa says as she deposits her own mug in the sink. “I gotta get Ave to daycare.”

Hailey nods and glances at the time on the microwave as she drops her own cup in the sink. “I gotta go too. I’ll walk out with you guys.”

Hailey makes her way back over to her daughter who sticks her last forkful of waffle into her mouth.

“We gotta go baby,” Hailey tells her. “Can you get your shoes on by yourself?”

The little girl nods back and Hailey helps her down from the stool while Vanessa grabs the dishes to put them in the dishwasher.

It’s eight on the dot when the three of them walk out the door, Hailey holding Avery’s hand in her own and Vanessa walking ahead of them to the driver’s side door of her sedan.

“Have a good day Ave. If I’m home early enough maybe we’ll do pizza for dinner okay?” Hailey says to the little girl as she opens the back passenger door.

“I love pizza,” Avery says as she climbs into her car seat.

Hailey smiles as she gets settled and then buckles her in. “I know you do. And I love you.”

“Love you mama. Are you gonna get the bad guys?”

“I’m gonna try,” Hailey tells her with another smile before kissing the top of her head.

“I’ll text you later if the day goes late, V. Drive safe,” Hailey says to her friend through the backseat.

The brunette turns and smiles back with a nod. “Always do. See ya later.”

Hailey closes the door and smiles as Avery waves a hand at her through the window. She waves back and watches as Vanessa pulls out of the driveway and disappears down the street. She reaches for her phone and groans. She’s definitely gonna be late, but mornings with her favorite person will never not be worth it.

When she arrives at the district fifteen minutes later than usual, Hailey’s not surprised to find her partner at his desk, but she sighs in relief when she sees the door to their Sergeant’s office is closed and the light is turned off. Jay catches her eye as she enters the bullpen and heads for her own desk across from his, pulling off her jacket on the way.

“Good morning,” Jay says to her with a smile before nodding down.

She follows his line of sight and her eyes land on a to-go cup of coffee sitting next to her keyboard. She picks up the cup and smiles back at him as she sits down in her chair.

“Thanks for this,” she says, tipping the cup toward him slightly before taking a sip.

“Rough start?” He asks.

Hailey shrugs, taking another sip before she sets the cup down and powers up her computer. “Sort of.”

She sees his eyebrows shoot upward and holds back the eye roll she wants to unleash. She should have known he wouldn’t accept her answer.

“I got here before you,” he comments then when she doesn’t say anything more.

“So?”

“So,” he draws out, leaning back in his chair. “You’re always the first one here. You’re never late.”

Hailey leans back in her own chair and lifts an arm to gesture around the nearly empty bullpen. “In case you didn’t notice, we’re the only ones here. Sarge isn’t even here yet. I think that counts for being early, or at least on time.”

He ignores the slight bite in her voice and holds up his hands in surrender as the sound of footsteps echoes from the stairwell.

“Speak of the devil,” Jay mutters as he nods to their Sergeant coming up the stairs.

Voight nods at the pair of them as he passes their desks, muttering a quiet morning greeting before disappearing into his office. The rest of the team trails in one after the other a few minutes later and they all fall into mindless small talk as they begin their shift.

It’s looking to be a slow day and nothing pops off that requires the help of Chicago’s elite Intelligence unit so the team spends most of the morning digging through files and updating CI records and finishing up leftover paperwork.

Hailey has long since finished the coffee her partner had gifted her upon her arrival and has gone through another after Kim and Adam go on a Dunkin’ run a little after ten. She’s been yawning on and off, unable to curb the exhaustion seeping through her body, and ignores the concerned looks Jay throws her way all morning.

By half past eleven she’s trekking to the break room for another cup and wondering just how long a person can go on such little sleep. She gets the coffee machine ready, presses the brew button, and waits as the old thing whirs to life.

She stands in front of the sink, leaning forward with her arms outstretched and hands resting against the edge of the countertop. She rests her weight on her arms and drops her head slightly, trying to fight off the sudden urge to close her eyes. She remembers her earlier conversation with Vanessa and debates on whether or not she should call Dr. Block after all.

The lack of sleep and the onslaught of memories over the last few days has left her in a whirlwind, and she’s not too sure how to pull herself out of it. There’s a moment where she can’t help thinking if it’s her body’s own warped way of protecting her or preparing her. And before she can stop it, she’s getting sucked back up into the chaos and the pain, and remembering another moment that sent her spiraling.

It’s been four days since she sent him away and he hasn’t returned. She’s not sure if she should be annoyed or impressed by his ability to be so stubborn, but she settles on annoyance simply for the fact that she misses him and they haven’t gone this long without some sort of communication. She’s just about to reach for her phone on the tray table next to her hospital bed when there’s a knock on the door. She smiles automatically - they’ve always been on some weird synced up wavelength, but when the door opens and it’s not his face she sees, her smile falters.

“Rafferty,” she greets, still with a smile, even though it’s clearly not her undercover supervisor she was expecting to see.

She thinks he knows this by the look on his face. It’s a look she can’t quite place as he enters her room and shuffles towards her with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets.

“Hi Hailey. How are you doing? Feeling better?” He asks her.

“For the most part. I can use both my eyes now. Which is good because I can clearly see you don’t look like you came all the way here to ask me how I’m feeling when a phone call would have done just fine,” she tells him with a smirk now.

He attempts to offer a smile at her candor, but it doesn’t quite stretch over his face and she notices.

“What’s up?” Hailey asks.

He takes another step towards her so he’s right next to her bed and she watches as he opens his mouth to speak, but closes it. And then he does it again twice more as he struggles to find his words.

“Jeff?”

“Hailey, honey.”

It’s his dad voice that he uses and she is immediately on edge. She’s known the man since she graduated from the academy and not once has he ever used that term of endearment, or any others that she can recall.

“What’s wrong?” She asks as her heart begins to race.

One beat, two, three, and then...

“Garrett’s missing.”

Two words is all it takes and it feels as though her chest is about to cave in on itself. Her hands begin to tremble and she can already feel tears burning at the corners of her eyes.

“M-missing? What...what do you mean missing? He...he was just here four days ago, what?”

The older man shakes his head, a sullen look on his face. “I’ve been trying to reach him. A few of us have and we pinged his phone. We found his phone, but we didn’t find him.”

“Maybe he lost it or it was stolen or - “

She tries to think of any possible explanation, but Rafferty shakes his head again.

“Your Sergeant and I went to his apartment, Hailey. It was trashed. There was blood, a significant amount of blood. Hailey - “

She shakes her head and the dam breaks as the tears she’s been holding back trail down her cheeks and sorrowing sobs wrack through her. “No. No, he’s not - he can’t - he...he was just here. He was just here. You have to find him. You have to find him, Jeff. Please.”

Her entire body shakes as she continues to sob uncontrollably and the man leans forward to wrap his arms around her shoulders, ignoring the way she flinches at his touch. She feels a hand on the back of her head, shushing her and comforting her as if she were a child.

“I’m sorry,” she hears him whisper. “I’m so sorry, Hailey.”

“Hailey?”

Her mind drifts back to the break room and she feels a hand on her shoulder. She jumps out of near habit and instinct, one of her arms flailing out and knocking into a bottle of dish soap that sends it toppling into the sink. She looks up and sees Jay staring at her, eyes wide and full of concern.

“Hailey?” He asks again carefully.

“Yeah?” She croaks out.

“Are you okay?”

His hand is still on her shoulder and she flinches again slightly when he gives it a light squeeze. She shrugs off his hand, ignoring the look of hurt that flashes over his face, and reaches for the soap with shaking hands to stand it upright next to the sink.

“I’m fine,” Hailey tells him. She glances at the coffee machine, sees the full pot, and begins busying herself with pouring a cup for herself.

She catches her partner shaking his head out of the corner of her eye and then he steps towards her. They’re standing side by side now in front of the counter, almost too close for Hailey’s liking, and she wonders for a moment if he can hear just how hard and fast her heart is beating.

“No, you’re not. What’s going on with you?” He asks again.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Really?” He scoffs as he leans closer to her and lowers his voice. “You spaced out again like you did yesterday in the truck. And that’s what, your third cup today? Fourth?”

“So now you’re the coffee police?” She bites back as she looks over at him.

“Hailey, come on. It’s me. Talk to me.”

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind, okay? I haven’t been sleeping well,” she tells him. It’s the vaguest answer she can think to say even though it’s honest and she hopes he’ll accept it and move on, but it’s Jay and he doesn’t.

“Whatever it is, maybe I can help. If you let me,” he offers.

She sighs and shakes her head. “I don’t need help. Just leave it, okay? Let it go.”

He stares her down, but she’s just as stubborn as he is, and she stares back with a look in her eyes that has him swallowing hard and nodding his head in defeat.

“You want a cup?” Hailey asks pointing to the pot.

“No, I’m good,” he tells her before turning and heading for the door.

She ignores the heavy sigh of defeat and disappointment she hears from him as he leaves the room and lets out one of her own. If she can’t even tell him about her nightmares and memories, how the hell would she be able to tell him about Avery?

The day goes on and the few times Hailey glances up from her computer she catches Jay looking away from her as if he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Normally she’d find it to be annoying, his hovering and keeping a close eye on her, but the more she mulls it over throughout the day the more she thinks that it’s almost nice having someone worrying about her who isn’t Vanessa.

He keeps his space though, only talking about work related things, except for when he asks her if she wants her usual from Greek Islands for lunch. It’s the first time she smiles since earlier that morning with her daughter and she gives him a nod, and then he’s gone. When he returns with their food, she scarfs it down quickly, only realizing then that she hasn’t eaten since the day before when she munched on a granola bar in his truck.

It’s moments like these where she’s grateful to have him as her partner. Because their morning started off rocky and she hadn’t been the nicest to him, but here he is, kind and taking care of her as if she hadn’t nearly bitten his head off earlier in the break room. She wonders for a moment if she deserves his kindness and is hit with a twinge of guilt in the pit of her stomach. She tries to tell herself to enjoy it while it lasts because he’s probably gonna hate her when he finds out the things she’s been hiding. Her personal life is no one’s business, she knows this, but she’s a cop in Chicago on one of the most elite teams in the city. Most people don’t hide the existence of a child from their co-workers, but then again Hailey isn’t most people and her past is a scary one.

Things continue at a snail’s pace after lunch and through the afternoon, and Hailey sends a text message to Vanessa to tell her she should be home at a reasonable hour. By six that night, Voight tells them all to clear out and go home and no one needs to be told twice. They all pack up and Hailey hears Adam and Kevin mention Molly’s bar. She knows what’s coming next.

“Upton! Molly’s tonight. You in?”

Hailey turns to face Adam as she slips on her jacket and shakes her head. “Nah, not tonight.”

“You sure Hailey? Adam just said he got first round and that’s like a once in a century offer right there,” Kevin chimes in.

She smiles because she knows it’s true, but she shakes her head again. “I’m sure. Have fun and I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Hailey turns back to her desk, making sure her computer is off, and notices the empty one across from her. She doesn’t know when Jay snuck out, but a small part of her is glad he’s already gone so that she doesn’t have to look at his worrying eyes any longer or feel the guilt rise up in her again. She’s not sure how much more of it she can take.

She says a final goodbye to the guys and Kim for the night, and then heads for the back stairwell. She makes her way outside and as she’s crossing the parking lot she hears him calling her name. She stops in the middle of the lot and turns to see Jay walking towards her with a shy smile on his face and his hands in his pockets.

“Thought you left already,” Hailey says in greeting.

“Nah, in the locker room,” he tells her.

She nods once in realization and then tilts her head up at him. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for this morning. I didn’t mean to cross a line with you today and I think I might have. You’re a grown woman and you can take care of yourself. I was just worried about you. I still kinda am.”

She shakes her head at him. “I should be the one apologizing to you Jay. You were just being a good partner. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like I did and I’m sorry.”

He lifts a hand, waving her off. “Water under the bridge. Besides, we may be partners, but I also like to think we’re friends too.”

“We are friends and I wanna tell you what’s going on, but I’m just – “

He shakes his head then. “No, I get it. I’ve been there. The hard things are never easy to talk about.”

“Yeah,” she whispers.

There’s a few beats of silence that pass between them as they look at one another. He has that look in his eyes again, the kind, but concerned one. And maybe he always has it with her, only uses it with her, but she’s never really noticed it until today. It makes her heartbeat pick up just a tiny fraction quicker and makes her almost nervous.

She’s ready to say goodnight and go home to see her girl, but then he takes a step closer to her, and she realizes he has more to say.

“Ya know, it wasn’t too long ago that I was going through it and really struggling with things, but it was you that pulled me out of the rabbit hole I fell into.” His voice is gruff and laced with more emotion than she thinks she has ever heard from him before. He keeps his eyes on her even when she breaks their contact and looks down at her feet.

“Just know that I’m here for you Hailey. Whenever you wanna talk. If you need anything. Okay?”

His words make her look back up at him and he’s quick to notice the slight glistening in her eyes. He knows there is something she’s not telling him and it makes his chest ache in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“Are you uh, you going to Molly’s?” He asks her then and she’s grateful once again for him knowing her well enough to change the topic of conversation.

She shakes her head. “Not tonight. You?”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

She nods and there’s another beat of silence before she lifts an arm and points a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m gonna head out. You should go to Molly’s. Apparently Adam is buying the first round.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “He must not be feeling well then because that never happens.”

She lets out a short laugh and nods her head again. She’s not sure when the air changed between them, but it feels awkward now for some reason she cannot place and she just wants to go home.

And then as if he can read her mind he smiles at her and nods his head to the truck parked a few spots down in the lot. “I’ll see ya tomorrow. Have a good night Hailey.”

“You too,” she tells him and then he’s walking away and she lets out a quiet sigh of relief, but the twinge of guilt stabs at her again and she’s left thinking about it as she drives out of the parking lot.

When Hailey gets home and walks through the front door, she’s hit with the force of her three foot tall mini-me wrapping her arms around one of her legs.

“Mama! You’re home!”

“I’m home!” Hailey says matching her daughter’s excitement and bending down to lift Avery into her arms. She settles the little girl on her right hip and makes her way into the kitchen where Vanessa sits at the island with a book in her hands.

“She was so excited when she saw your car pull in the driveway,” the brunette says with a smile.

Hailey smiles back at her friend and then turns her head to look at Avery in her arms. “Is that right? You happy to see me?”

Avery shakes her head up and down quickly, and then drops it against Hailey’s shoulder. She leans her head against her daughter’s and squeezes her little body against her side.

“Did you have a good day Ave?”

“Yeah. We did music today and I got to use the tang – um, Auntie what was it again?”

“The tambourine,” Vanessa assists.

“Yeah, that thing! It was loud mama, but it was a lotta fun,” Avery tells Hailey who just beams down at the girl in her arms and then brushes her daughter’s nose with her own.

“I’m glad you had such a fun day baby. You ready for pizza?” Hailey asks.

“Yeah!” Avery says excitedly.

“Already ordered it. Should be here in about a half hour,” Vanessa tells her.

Hailey nods and looks back at Avery. “How ‘bout we give you a quick bath and get you into some pj’s? By the time we’re done the pizza should be here.”

Avery gives her mother a nod of her head and Hailey carries her girl up the stairs while Vanessa goes back to her book, letting the mother and daughter have their time together.

They come back down almost a half hour later, Avery in her mother’s arms again. The doorbell rings not a moment after they re-enter the kitchen and Vanessa smiles, still seated at the island with a book in front of her.

“Perfect timing. I amaze myself sometimes,” she says.

Hailey shakes her head in amusement and sets Avery down on the floor.

“Guess that’s the pizza little lady. Go help Auntie with the plates. We can eat out in the living room tonight and watch a movie. How’s that sound?”

“Yay!” Avery squeals and runs over to Vanessa, grabbing one of her hands and trying to pull the woman to her feet.

“Did you pay over the phone or do I need cash?” Hailey asks as she heads for the door.

“Over the phone, just need a tip!” Vanessa tells her as the blonde disappears around the corner.

“I got it!” Hailey calls back as she grabs her wallet from her jacket in the entryway. She swings the door open and takes a step back on instinct, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Jay,” she breathes out.

Her partner is standing on her doorstep, a shy smile on his face, and a six pack in hand.

“Hey,” he says.

“You’re not the pizza guy,” Hailey says as if it’s not obvious.

She quickly remembers where they are and what he doesn’t know, and inserts her body between the wall of the door-jam and the opening of the door as casually as she can. She glances over her shoulder for a split second and then looks back at her partner.

“Not the pizza guy, but I did bring beer,” Jay tells her nodding down to his hand.

“I see that, um, what – “

“What am I doing here, right?” He says and she nods. “I probably should have called, but I knew you’d just tell me you were fine and you’d blow me off. I figured you needed a friend right now. And I’d much rather drink with you than Adam, so here I am.”

He watches as she swallows nervously and when she glances over her shoulder again he notices.

“Jay, um, I – “

A look of realization crosses his face and he lets out a chuckle. “Oh man. You totally have company right now and I am definitely ruining it. I’m so sorry.”

Hailey shakes her head quickly. “No, that’s not, um, I don’t - ugh. Damn it. Um – “

“Someone order a pizza?”

The pair of partners look over to see a man in a uniform standing in her driveway with an insulated bag in his hands.

“Uh, yeah, me,” Hailey says with a wave of her hand.

The man makes his way towards her, pulling out a boxed pie from the bag, and then hands it to her. She gives him a quick smile as she takes it, and hands him a twenty dollar bill.

“Keep it,” Hailey tells him.

The delivery guy smiles back, thanks her quickly, and then he’s gone, and Hailey’s left alone with her partner again. Her heart pounds in her ears, hands nearly shaking, and she swallows nervously again as she tries to think of what to say to Jay as she looks at him from the doorway.

But then she feels little hands tugging on the hem of her shirt and the door is being pulled open. Avery wiggles in against her side and stands next to her in the open doorway.

“Is the pizza here?” She asks excitedly, having no idea of what her little self has just walked into.

Jay’s eyes land on the little girl immediately, widening in confusion and surprise at seeing a child he most certainly wasn’t expecting. The shock doesn’t last long as Hailey can tell the wheels are turning in his head and he begins to connect the dots. He glances back and forth between Avery and Hailey, and the look on his face tells her he’s figured it out. There’s only one other person he’s seen with those same bouncing blonde curls and bright blue eyes.

His eyes land back on Hailey and they stay there as she leans down and hands the pizza to her daughter.

“Can you please bring this to Auntie? It’s pretty warm on the bottom still, so hold the sides okay?”

Avery nods and takes the pizza box from her mother before doing as she’s asked and disappears into the kitchen.

When Hailey stands upright and looks back at her partner, his confusion filled eyes are still on her and asking a million silent questions. She watches as he lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he had been holding.

“I’m guessing you’re not moon-lighting as a babysitter,” Jay says knowingly.

Hailey shakes her head at him slowly, ignoring the burning of tears in the corners of her eyes, and then takes a quick deep breath as she looks him in the eyes.

“She’s my daughter.”

#upstead #upstead fic #hailey upton #jay halstead #jay x hailey #hailey x jay #chicago pd #cpd fic #upstead fanfiction

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athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit · 3 years

Text

Of Ice and Blood

Part 8

Supposedly everything I post consecutively is one part, but I always reach the 250 block limit everytime so I am forced to cut it off! It's all good though, I just hope you don't mind that.

Anyways, enjoy reading! I'll be working on my requests after I post this and the slasher fic in my works.

Edit: Holy sh*t I thought it wouldn't fit but it did! (And I meant the word count you dirty lil thing—) This will be the longest part in the series yet (since 4.3k words fit perfectly)

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Fem!Human/Reader)

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: None :)

Contains: f l u f f (and maybe too much blushing but I have no regrets)

—

You let the student call the police as you tied up four unconscious men using their clothing. You left when you heard the distant sound of sirens and trusted her to explain what had transpired in the alley. You bid her farewell, resuming your walk to your destination. You breathed out your exhaustion, the little energy you got from a short nap earlier got spent punching people again.

"So...that was..."

"Expected." The orc supplied when you trailed off.

"Mm...Yeah."

Expected, both disappointing and frustrating. You did your best not to snap at the kid for it and only hoped she understood and learned.

The sun had already sunk long ago, but there was still a myriad of warm colors. Very subtle, but there. Each passing second transitioning it into a darker shade until little specks of light became visible. The sky...black in a matter of minutes. Street lamps lit your path as shops both closed and opened for the night with people saying hello and goodbye.

"Thank you, by the way. For uh, earlier." You got careless. Too careless than you usually are.

You shivered at the thought of what might've been the outcome.

He only nodded, along with a grunt of affirmation beside you.

"Are you mad?" you whispered. Was he angry at you being a stupid idiot and rushing straight into danger?

"No, just, "—he sighed, rubbing his forehead with his fingers—"worried." His scent was clearly not just of worry. He was also scowling.

Tai'chi was very worried about you, he always had ever since you met, which wasn't long but he felt a strong need to protect you, even if you could handle yourself well on your own. Oh, but he was angry, enraged within at those men who harmed the poor student, especially at the one who almost stabbed you at the back. If they were in his stronghold they would've been fed to the wargs.

No, he would've torn them apart himself.

You didn't speak again until you arrived at your place, finally. You're not rich and even if you were you have no desire to live in those luxurious and super expensive condos. You preferred to have something homey, small, as long as it had what you needed for comfort and safety, you were content.

It also saves a lot of money for future expenses and emergencies.

"So, uhm, welcome." You said as you unlocked your door after several tries on putting the key in. Tai'chi ducked considerably under it, his large frame barely making it through.

You took off your shoes, placed them on the side, and kept your socks on. He followed suit, taking off his boots, coming out barefooted.

It wasn't smelly, which was pretty surprising.

You headed to your kitchen and prepare dinner for both of you, but a hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks.

"I will cook." Tai'chi spoke and you immediately replied, stuttering.

"I-I should be the one cooking for you! It's not right. I'm the host and you're the guest it shouldn't be—"

"Pearl, I will cook." He asserted, his voice deep and confident, you sighed as it made you relent. You'd make a mess if you did anyway, might chop your hand off with a knife or dunk your head in the pot.

"Fine. But next time I'll do something for you instead," you groaned.

The orc grunted once before he stepped past you and into your kitchen while you plodded to your room.

Tai'chi paused for a moment to take in the details of your house. It was fairly small. From where he stood, his head was a foot away from touching the ceiling. To his left was an open way to what he assumed was the living room where he could make out half of a brown couch facing away from him. He also noticed a couple of framed photos hanging on a faded orange wall. Tai'chi glanced in the direction where you disappeared, he could hear the faint sound of the shower going on.

Good.

Not wanting to waste any more time, he started preparing dinner for the two of you, making use of what was present in your humble home. You had a similarly humble kitchen with a simple stovetop and double-door cupboards.

A decent-sized (a/n: everything is small to him okay) refrigerator sat in the corner where he found some meat in its freezer, quite a huge portion for such a small person like you, but then again he witnessed firsthand how much you could eat, and eat like an orc you did. Tai'chi reached inside to grab the meat but met resistance. He subconsciously yanked the frozen thing off, his eyes widened when he realized what he did, nearly topping over the whole appliance. Tai'chi sheepishly adjusted the refrigerator back in its place, before he looked for other ingredients while he carefully moved around to avoid any more mishaps.

You went inside your bedroom, groggy and disgusting as you pulled off your clothes and threw them in a basket just outside your bathroom. You stepped inside and took a long, hot, well-deserved shower to get that dried sweat and blood off of your body. After you rinsed down, you sunk yourself in your little tub, sighing in content as you tried your best not to fall asleep. You shuddered and trapped yourself in a daze, enjoying the hot water around your naked form, relaxing in the aromatherapy you made for yourself as you hummed a tune, letting your thoughts wander.

The precision of that throw was simply scary. But also cool...mm. Awesome.

I wonder what happened to the Silverstones...

Courting, huh...who would've thought I'd be courted by an orc. I wonder what that entails...

Wait, I'll be courting him too, right?

"..."

You got out when the wrinkling started. Your muscles were still aching but less so than before. You used a towel to dry down before wearing a black oversized shirt, you had about 6 of them in your wardrobe 'cause hey, not one to dress up fancy and flashy. Plus blood gets splattered on your clothes a lot, it would be a waste of time and money. You also slipped inside your favorite pair of dark grey joggers, the one you always wore when you were at home. They were comfy!

You let your hair fall over your shoulders and back since it was still damp. When you got out the scent of cooked food engulfed you, wafting from your right.

Oh, how mouth-watering it was.

You tiptoed to your kitchen to peek at what Tai'chi cooked up. Unfortunate when you couldn't see anything with his broad physique was blocking your line of sight on the table.

"I could smell you, you know."

You almost, almost let out a yelp. You wiped your drool with the hem of your shirt.

"I- uh-"

He chuckled, "You must be starving. I—" Words died in his throat when he turned around to look at you.

He gawked.

You surprised him for the nth time today. There you stood before him, relaxed and freshly cleaned up, a whiff of mint reached his nose, your shampoo perhaps, mixed with your scent. You didn't have your mask on, which gave him a full look at your face, your lips were a little chapped, half-lidded eyes showing your exhaustion.

"Is there something on my face?"

"N-No." He stuttered as he tried to get something out. "Ehem, no. You just look... I'm done with dinner, you— we should eat, and then we can talk." Tai'chi said as he moved to take a chair and sat across you. You let that go, in favor of sating your hunger.

His cheeks were a bit darker in shade than his skin, but that slipped away as the dinner in front of you grabbed your full attention. It looked and smelled like pork curry. Was it pork curry? It's like something straight out of a Ghibli movie.

Bite-sized chunks of meat, diced potatoes, and carrots coated with a rich syrupy brown soup together with a modest –at least to both of you– portion of rice next to it. It was simple, but the way it tempted your senses implied that there was something more than what meets the eye, and your nose.

Or it's your gluttony speaking, probably.

You picked up your spoon and wondered if it's as good as it appears to be. You gulped, audibly.

You brought a small portion into your mouth, nearly falling off of your seat as you resisted the urge to make any sound that would outright embarrass you, but lo, as you took another spoonful, you couldn't stop yourself from letting out a moan. Your eyes widened and immediately covered your face with two hands as you felt it heat up.

You chewed and swallowed before you squeaked out, "I-I-I'm so sorry! It- It's just so yummy and tasty and I— it's amazing, and uh..." You trailed off and groaned, at a loss of words in your embarrassment. You risked to part your fingers and peek at him. He met your gaze and you hid again. His cheeks were in a darker hue than before. Was he flustered like you? Oh no, you shouldn't have done that, now he will think you're being weird!

Tai'chi cleared his throat and you removed your hands but refused to make eye contact with him, your face still hot.

"We... We should eat." He said, stiff and trying to seem indifferent. But that sound you made would forever be engraved into his mind, it was both cute, and, well, sensual.

Okay fine, it was somehow arousing, but he has it under control, he will keep his damn urges in check, even if it means jumping out of the window just to make sure he won't scare you away. He's an orc of honor for goodness' sake, he swore an oath, he will keep it.

You ate fast but paused to savor the food, minus any embarrassing noises, thankfully. The curry was rich and a bit spicy, the pork was soft and tender as you chewed at it easily, juicy as it is, along with the potatoes and carrots, both cooked and prepared with obvious care. You almost cried from the combination of flavors you nearly forgot it was just curry you're eating.

But damn, this is the best curry you've eaten your whole life.

It was minutes later when you finished your fourth heaping plate of food. Tai'chi had five. He made a lot which was great, considering how your plates were wiped clean as if they weren't used in the first place.

Damn, you ate like you didn't eat for a week.

With some regained energy, you stood and took the dishes before Tai'chi could even stop you, putting them in the sink and washing them, quick and thorough. Once you were done with that, you went back to your seat, ducked your head, and stared at your lap.

"..."

"I... Thank you for the food. It was really delicious and great and everything! And, uhm, you made the pork curry like a pro and I never tasted anything so fulfilling, —my mother will beat me if she heard that—and it was a simple curry but I, it's just so, so—" you huffed, "mind-blowing!" You were rambling, you knew. You looked up when he didn't say anything.

H-He's grinning...

"Thank you. I pride myself in my skill in the kitchen and I'm happy what I made for you was satisfying." Tai'chi thumped his chest, showing that he was very honoured to hear your words. He's never telling you he almost broke your fridge though.

"It was great!" You exclaimed right after him, throwing your hands up. It was truly great. He grinned even wider at this, that dark shade still present in his cheeks, though you were no better as you could feel the warmth on your own.

"Then I am beyond happy and honored to hear that from you," liga lul, he stated, only saying of the last part in his head.

You smiled at each other.

"Is now a good time to discuss my kind's courting rituals?" Taichi asked after a minute of sitting there in silence.

"Y-Yes, please," you replied. "So, how do orcs court someone?"

He straightened up in his seat.

"We show off to the one we're interested in, basically speaking. Ranging from skills in fighting to proving that we could provide for our...mate." He paused, watching you closely.

You nodded for him to continue. Not gonna lie, that last part made your heart skip a beat. Mate, huh.

"We," he coughed, "we also chase or fight off other suitors, be it threatening them or engaging them in battle. And if they attempt to kidnap or hurt the person courted in any way, they will suffer the wrath of an orc."

"So, they'll...die?"

"Yes, or so that's what it usually was back home. Here, in this city, it's a crime to kill someone just for that reason, but it is law among us. No one would bat an eye if someone gets beheaded just because they were foolish enough to insult the person an orc is courting."

"Oh," pretty brutal but okay. "Is there an option where they don't get murdered or..." You asked, waving your hand around. Killing because of an insult is going overboard, in your opinion, but then again, anyone would be furious if their potential partner gets slandered or taken away forcefully.

"When the courted wills it. It is always up to them to decide the fate of those who tried to harm them, and the orc must take their words into action."

"Oh, good. I really don't want you getting in trouble just because someone called me a freak and all," you said. You looked at your hands, calloused and a little rough from experience. Scars were littered over your body and you hid them well from any curious eye with your long sleeves and pants. Though right now, some of the scars on your arms were visible.

You jerked when you felt his large hand grab your arm and moved along to yours, rubbing his thumb on the back of it, his brows furrowed as he looked at you.

"They are wrong to call you that."

"And everyone's a piece of shit to call you a beast, a savage, or a murderer," you followed up in an instant.

His expression softened, and you smiled, ignoring how your heart hammered in your chest as he continued to caress your hand.

Tai'chi could feel your pulse, beating so fast he was scared for your health. But he was happy to know he could make you feel this way, his own heart was thumping loudly in his chest too.

"As I said before, we would show that we could provide for our potential partners. We would bring to them our best kills from hunts, offer gifts crafted by ourselves if we have the skill, if not, we will buy them tokens and things that remind us of them or what pleases them."

"Wait," you interrupted, "when you insisted on cooking dinner, was that a part of courting?"

He gave you a small smile as he scratched his sideburns, sheepish like a little child caught stealing candy.

"Yes." He answered, rather quiet than his usual booming voice.

"Uhm, I must say, it was really amazing. Your cooking, I mean. And thank you, again."

"The pleasure's all mine," he replied. "Building houses or fixing the courted's current one is also a part of it."

"You're not gonna build me house right away, are you?" You joked, but then he didn't reply. "Wait, you're serious? But we're still studying and—"

"I am serious about building a house for, uh, the two of us," he interrupted, "but yes, I understand our current situation won't allow that to happen...yet."

"H-How long does the courting last?" You couldn't help but ask. He's talking about building you a house someday and you don't even know how old he is! No connection to what you're fumbling about but yeah, your mind is messed up. You are curious though...his age.

"It usually lasts for six months, to give time to get to know each other but also not prolong the courting stage so they could proceed to the next, but there are times when it lasts longer than that. You will have absolute control over how fast or slow we proceed in the courtship. That means it's up to you on when to end it and decide whether you'll...take me as your mate, or turn me down."

"Sounds pressuring but okay." You want to, like, combust right now.

He chuckled.

"Pressuring? No, no, please do not be pressured. Your word is law and I will face death by my family's ax if I disobey your final decision."

"Again with the death thingy!" You were appalled at how extreme orcs were.

"Us orcs are very strict and firmly tied to our traditions, but I can say we are changing. It is slow, but change nonetheless."

"I have a question," you raised your free hand out of habit.

Tai'chi nodded.

"I hope this is won't offend but how old are you?"

There, you said it. Oh fuck, you hoped it wasn't offending. Shit it was— asking his age, seriously?

"How old do you think I am?" He questioned, teasing you, a smirk on his lips catching you off guard.

"What? Noooo that's not an answer! I can't guess, you might get angry."

"I won't," he supplied right after. Why would he be? In fact, he is pretty much enjoying himself just watching you fidget with your ears slightly tinted pinkish. By the gods, he wants to touch them.

You sighed.

You stared at him, avoiding eye-contact as you tilted your head to get a good look at his features. He had a long and narrow scar you didn't spot before, in a lighter green color on the left side of his face. It wasn't noticeable if you stare at him up-front. It went down his neck and ended just above his collar bone. You wondered what caused it.

The orc was rough, his double tusks sharp and intimidating, even horrifying to another set of eyes but to you, he was attractive and rugged, his scent alluring and you only found him more fascinating each passing second. The scars he had enticed your curiosity but you weren't gonna ask about it, yet.

You always thought the standards set by society are rather absurd. You looked back at the time when someone asked you what your type was, along with showing you different pictures of men, human men, which were deemed "hot" (with quotation marks, yes) by most people. You didn't answer because; one, you don't know them; two, you couldn't tell what their personality was because you can't scent them; and three, it only annoyed you. People found you even weirder after that. Ironically deeming you senseless for not having an eye for beauty. No taste or missing out, they said.

But one's beauty wasn't found in sight alone.

You hummed to yourself. His hair was rich black, no trace of graying, so maybe he's not so old? 30s? How fast do orcs grow up? Do they even age? What do they look like when they were children?

You were brought back to the present when he gently squeezed your hand.

"Oh— uh, 35?" You blurted out, a bit panicked. As far as you know no one is as....buff as him in your age— but wait he's an orc!

"Oh no wait that's—"

You were cut off by a loud snort followed by a boisterous laugh coming out of Tai'chi, making you more embarrassed than you already are. His guffaw shook your apartment you swear your neighbors are filing a noise complaint tomorrow with how much he was laughing and you raising your voice.

"No," he said, "no actually, I'm still in my 23rd year. Do I really look that old?" He questioned as he chortled.

"23rd?! But you're— you're," you gestured at him. He's just five years older than you (which isn't long period of time you think) but he's— he's fucking huge! What the hell did they eat up North?

"Yes," he laughed again, amused by your reaction. "Believe it or not I am. Orcs begin training at age 6" he shifted the topic, "The adults would let them choose their desired weapon and craft to pursue, but also allowed them to experience all selections, from swords, battle axes, hammers, and many more, along with skills and crafts like hunting, blacksmithing, combat, construction, even basket weaving.

"I went on my first hunt when I was 12 and brought a stag back home. I tamed my first warg at 15, named him Nadul, Orcish for 'night'."

"6 year old me snuck out of the house during nap time to collect twigs in the woods while you were wielding weapons and—"

"That is correct,"

"And you had a pet warg?" You knew what wargs are, you read about them when you were in high school, along with other animals that fascinated you. They looked like large wolves with the stature of an adult grizzly bear and can carry a full-grown orc into battle.

"Have," he corrected, his fluffy buddy was still very much alive and well the last time he went back to visit his home, which was three months ago. He doubted anything could take down Nadul, not even a Frostbear, he was the one who trained him after all.

"I still can't believe you're 23. You look so..."— you were not gonna say old, no— "mature."

"At a different rate from humans, yes."

Of course they do. You got so much to learn about orcs, and him.

"And you? How old are you?"

"19."

"Oh? You look 13 with how little you are,"

You didn't expect him to be playful like this, but you went along.

"Hey! I'm only small compared to you, you giant!" True, you were a tad shorter than most girls your age but it has its perks! You'd save a lot of money from buying clothes just because you grew rather slowly. "And in fact, I'm still growing!"

"So am I." He grinned, smugness painted all over his face.

"Noooo, if you keep growing you won't fit through the doorway!" You whined, pouting at how much of a tease he was being.

He found it adorable, the way your lower lip was upturned as you looked at him. The sudden urge to pat you rose but he didn't act on it.

"Do not worry, us orcs stop growing in our 25th year," or not. "And I will make sure to feed and treat you good so you'll become taller!" he stated confidently. Tai'chi was about to laugh again, but he froze with his jaw open when you turned real red, your ears tinted and your lips quivered, unable to speak out anything.

That last part, made your face feel like fire just kissed it, twice. Panicked and having no idea what to retort, you let your head fall on the table with a thud. You gripped his hand tight and took silent breaths to calm your thumping heart down.

"Y-Yeah... I..I l-look forward to that, Tai'chi." You were able to say that at least.

He gave a soft grunt as he looked at you on the table.

You were very flustered, he scented. His comment-sort-of-declaration was clearly the reason. But oh, he had no regrets. He will make sure you're healthy and well-fed, and it's just one way of showing off with his skills.

That's only the beginning.

You were in for some Orcish surprises.

You sat in comfortable silence again for a while, just taking in each other's scents, soothing and calming your hammering heart. Tai'chi continued to caress your hand, gentle for such a big orc like him. He could snap your neck with two fingers alone, but he remained careful like he was holding a thing so delicate.

Tai'chi could feel your pulse slow down to a normal rate, your scent shifted to that of a relaxed state and something fuzzy. He can't call you his yet, you just met today but you already got him wrapped around your tiny fingers. First, he will court you and show his admiration, prove his worth. And you, yourself, turning it into love the more you spend time together, he knows it will.

And he'll surely be damned to let this chance slip. Not once did he took interest in getting a mate before, his mind too busy and filled with his responsibilities along with studies in other kind's culture, and taking care of his siblings.

But back then and there, something pulled on his heart, the way your eyes stared into his for seconds that felt longer than eternity itself. An exaggeration, but that's what he felt.

He found you.

You were about to doze off so you removed your head from the table and tried to blink away your sleepiness, the light hurting you a little. You should get to bed soon, your first class starts at 8 in the morning. You stared at Tai'chi, admiring that blue eyes of his, its hue similar to that of lapis lazuli, you thought.

"I should take my leave now. We need to rest, especially you." Tai'chi said when he saw how tired you appeared, you were barely keeping your eyes open. He stood up from his seat, lightly pulling you up with him. You shook your head, rubbing your eyes as you led him to your door.

"Keep safe," you bid once he was ready to go.

"You as well... I will see you tomorrow."

"Mm, g'night."

Tai'chi breathed through his nose before he placed a kiss on your forehead. It was brief, but it sent a pleasant warmth all over your body. You were too sleepy to even bother being shy now, so you only smiled at him.

"Goodnight, lak'mar lul." He gazed at you, sighing before he stepped out of your apartment.

You stood there for a moment before you checked your door and made sure it was deadlocked. You killed the lights off as you sluggishly trudged to your bed. Darkness enveloped your home, a welcome one. You crawled to the middle and tucked yourself under the dark blue cotton sheets.

You were out like a light once you settled down. Much too many things happened right after another, draining you to an exhaustingly low point. You only prayed you'd feel better in the morning.

Your last thought was about how warm the orc was, and how, for some reason, his scent, his presence, felt like a home you never had, which was saying something since you had encountered a lot of scents in your life, both good and bad. You hugged your pillow tight as you succumbed to a dreamless slumber.

—

I'm putting this off for a bit to give time for requests and other WIPs. But if a random continuation pops out I'll have to write it down and set it aside for editing later.

Thank you for reading!

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

Night In/Night Out

Summary: Emily Prentiss is your girlfriend and she finally asks you to meet her family (the BAU): cue the fluff.

Tags: fluff, reader-insert, team as family, flirting, cuddling, domesticity, protective emily, slight shy!reader

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Read on AO3

It’s late by the time you get back to your flat, audibly sighing in relief as you push open the door and kick your shoes off to the side, too tired to put them away properly. It doesn’t even register that the lights are on, meaning your girlfriend is probably home, until you head into the kitchen to dump the groceries you’d picked up on the way home from work.

“Em?” you call, a little confused at not seeing her in the living room or kitchen. You set your bags and keys down on the kitchen counter before going to investigate, padding through the apartment.

“In here, sweetheart,” she calls back from the bathroom, and you pull the door open to reveal your very sexy girlfriend standing in front of the steamy mirror wrapped in a towel, wet hair falling over her shoulders. You’re struck in these moments by just how beautiful she is; how lucky you are to get to call her yours. She turns to face you, grinning widely. “Come here, gorgeous girl, give me a kiss.”

You smile at her from where you’re standing in the doorway and follow your orders, leaning in to press a loving kiss to her lips. “You’re calling me gorgeous? When you’re standing here looking like this?” you tease, kissing her again.

She laughs unashamedly, tipping her head back as she lets her guard down with you. “Hey, maybe we can both be gorgeous,” she says, brushing her thumb over your cheekbone before pulling back to drink you in. “Especially when you’re wearing this dress knowing full well what it does to me.”

“Well I didn’t even know you’d be here to appreciate it when I put it on this morning,” you say in mock defense, raising your hands.

“That’s even worse,” she explains, face deadpan, “you wear it when I’m not even here to appreciate it.”

You both giggle before you sober up a little and meet her eyes with an earnest gaze. “Well. How lucky we are that you’re here to appreciate it now,” you say, voice a little shy as it always gets when emotions get intense. “I’ve had my phone off all day so if you texted me to say you’d be home I didn’t get it, sorry, Em.”

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” she smiles softly. “We’re both home now, let’s make the most of it, yeah? Why don’t you jump in the shower and I’ll order a pizza, how does that sound?”

“That sounds absolutely darling.” You turn away from her to face the mirror, taking out your earrings and pouring some makeup remover on a cotton pad and begin wiping at your eyes. “Don’t appreciate the insinuation that I smell, though.”

“Don’t be cheeky,” she grins, lightly smacking your arse and making you squeak. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know, I know,” you concede. “You’re just usually the one teasing me, you see. If I see an opportunity I have no choice but to jump on it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Emily dismisses you, but she’s smiling widely. “Right, I’ll go get dressed and get dinner started. You jump in the shower.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you grin, relaxing into the gentle banter that comes with an evening in with your girlfriend. You’d only moved in together four months ago, just after your one year anniversary, so nights like these ones were still a novelty. Emily’s away so much and your job keeps you busy enough that you’re apart more than together, so you always take special care to appreciate evenings like these just a little bit more.

By the time you’re out of shower and dressed in one of Emily’s old FBI academy tops, damp hair tied up in a bun, Emily’s on the sofa with the overhead light turned out in favour of the light from the TV and some scented candles dotted around the living room that Garcia had given Emily as a housewarming present. Emily hadn’t really meant to give away her change of address, but it had slipped out at one of their girls plus Spencer nights after a few too many margaritas and soon the gift baskets were rolling in.

“Hey baby,” she murmurs as you clamber -- oh so elegantly -- over the back of the sofa and directly on top of her, situating yourself eventually so that you’re lying with your head nestled in her neck. Her arms come up to wrap around you, sliding under your t-shirt and caressing the dip of your waist, the rolls on your stomach. “How was your day?”

“Long,” you sigh, the gentle caresses and low-level noise coming from the TV relaxing you further. “James, that coworker I’ve told you about, pissed me off again tonight so I finally reported him, but then his buddy Kyle wouldn’t let up on me about it and only left me alone after I threatened to report him, too. Really I wanted to tell him I’d castrate him in the parking lot but Daisy told me that was ‘too unprofessional’.”

Emily giggles at that, leaning her head onto the top of yours and cuddling you closer. “Sorry, Y/N. That sucks,” she says, knowing that you don’t need her to go into a lecture or give you any advice, that cuddling will suffice. “I saw you bought groceries, though. Thank you for doing that, especially when you were tired and pissed off.”

“That’s alright, the shop was on my way home. What about you, how was the case?” You bring one of your hands up to trace patterns on her bicep, relishing the strength under her soft skin.

She groans slightly. “It was alright, I guess. We’ve certainly had worse, it was just long , and I missed you very much since we couldn’t call as often as usual. I’m just glad it’s over and I’m back home with you.”

“Me too,” you say, smiling again as she gives you another squeeze.

“Hey, I do have something to ask you,” she says after a few moments of comfortable silence, voice a little hesitant.

“Yeah?” you ask encouragingly, continuing your light touches over her upper arm.

“I was wondering,” she starts, “if you’d like to finally meet the team?”

Your moving finger pauses for a moment, shocked. “Really?” you ask incredulously. Emily had always wanted to keep her work and home life separate, and beyond telling JJ and Penelope that she was seeing someone, she’d said nothing about you to her colleagues.

“Yeah,” she says. “I’ve just been thinking. I’ve tried so long to think of the BAU as strictly my coworkers, but really they’re my family. I mean I regularly have sleepovers with the girls and think of Morgan as a brother, Spencer even more so, especially since we can empathise with one another’s sexuality struggles. Hotch and Rossi, even, I’m closer to them than my parents, and keeping you separate from that doesn’t feel right anymore.”

You smile slightly. You were wondering how long it was going to take her to figure that out. “I’d love to, babe, you know that.”

“Yeah?” she asks, clearly pleased. “Rossi is hosting a family night at his place next weekend and he’s said SOs are invited, though Will can’t make it so I’m not sure if anyone else will be coming.”

“Have you… told them?”

“That I’m a lesbian or that I’m dating you?” she clarifies.

“Both.”

“Not… technically,” she says slowly. “The girls know I’m gay, as does Spencer, and I’m sure the rest of guys have picked up on the hints I’ve dropped. It’s not like I’ve tried to hide it and I work with profilers. But I haven’t told them I’m dating you, just because I like my privacy and… I guess my work, even my teammates, signify so much bad stuff, and protecting you is my job.” She leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, brushing your temples with her fingertips. “Now though, I’ve realised I can still protect you and share your beautiful self with my team.”

“I understand, Em,” you smile up at her. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me.”

“I know, but it feels nice to explain and work through my own thoughts,” she reasons, still gently running her fingers along your side. “But next weekend? Rossi’s?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

★

Although you try to hide it from your girlfriend, you are absolutely bricking it. The team means so much to Emily, you’ve known that for pretty much as long as you’ve been together, and you’re terrified that they won’t like you. You know they’re extremely protective of each other, and although Emily’s always been your protector, you’re worried that you won’t meet everyone else’s standards. It’s not like she’ll break up with you if you don’t all immediately hit it off, you don’t think that low of her, but you know it could cause an issue, start a rift between the two of you, and it’s nerve wracking.

You’re also going into a tight knit group of people who trust one another with their lives as a complete outsider, arguably not a strong position. Your hand shakes a little as you apply the final coat of mascara, nervous thoughts really getting to you.

“Nearly ready to go, baby?” Emily asks brightly as she walks into your bedroom from where she’s been sorting her hair out in the bathroom.

You take a deep, shuddering breath and put the mascara away, sitting back and looking at yourself in the mirror. You brush a fly away hair back into place and brush a stray eyelash away from your cheekbone before finally looking Emily in the eye. “Think so,” you say, giving her a tight smile.

“Well,” she says, coming up behind you at the dressing table and wrapping her arms around your front, bending slightly to rest her chin on top of your head, “you look absolutely beautiful.”

Melting a little at the affection, you send a much more genuine smile back at her in the mirror. “As do you, babe. You know that top is my favourite on you.”

She smiles, pulling away from you to give you a full twirl, making you laugh. “I know. That’s why I chose it. Just like you choosing this gorgeous blue little number knowing damn well all I’m going to be thinking about all evening is taking it off later.” She winks at you in the mirror, coming back to stand behind you as you giggle at her.

“Have to look my best,” you say, only half joking.

Emily picks up on your hesitation, of course. “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to be worried. They’re going to love you, and if they don’t then they’re thick in the head and Hotch should fire them all for poor judgement.”

Looking down at your painted nails in your lap, you sigh. “Sorry, I just… these people are your family, and of course I want them to like me,” you say quietly. “I think I was less nervous meeting your actual mother.”

Prentiss lets out a short laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Well these lot are much less intimidating,” she says gently. “Come on, you. Let’s get going.”

They get there late as planned, Emily knowing that you would feel more comfortable meeting everyone at once rather than having to wait, stewing in anxiety, to meet each person as they come to the door at unspecified times. “You did tell them I’m coming, right?” you ask, tummy rolling as you hold Emily’s hand tightly, approaching the front door.

“I told them I was bringing my partner,” she reassures you, not for the first time. “Pen and JJ are chomping at the bit to meet you and everyone else looked excited, too, okay? It will be fine, I promise you.”

“You’re not supposed to promise things you’re not sure you can deliver on,” you mutter. “Don’t they teach you that at FBI school.”

“Academy, you mean,” Emily chuckles, knocking on the door.

You clumsily wave your free hand in dismissal, tightening your hold on the one in Emily’s. “Same thing,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

The door swings open before you can reply and Rossi is standing there, wine glass in hand as he opens his arms wide. “Emily,” he cheers, clearly already a little bit tipsy. He leans over to give her a kiss on the cheek as he ushers them in.

“Rossi,” she says warmly. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.” She beams at you with pride as you press yourself closer to her, desperate to anchor yourself in such an uncertain situation.

“Hi,” you wave, shyly.

“Ahh, Y/N,” he grins, smiling as warmly as Emily. “It’s so great to finally meet you. I’d say we’ve heard so much about you but that would be plainly untrue.” He pretends to glare at Emily before directing his happy gaze back to you.

“She does like to keep me tucked away,” you giggle, looking up at Emily as you start to relax.

“Hush you two,” Emily teases. “You’d better not turn them against me.” She nudges your side as you follow Rossi through his gorgeous house into the large kitchen/dining area where the rest of the team are.

“Are you alright, baby?” she says quietly, just for you.

Your answering nod makes her ease a bit of tension you didn’t realise she was holding, and she slips her hand out of yours only to wrap it loosely around your waist, knowing that the solid weight and closeness to her will make you feel even safer.

“Hey guys,” she says as they enter the kitchen and everyone turns to greet the two of you.

A woman who you immediately recognises as Penelope runs up to meet you, awe in her eyes as she takes you in. “Oh my God, it’s finally happening, I don’t even know your name but I already love you so much!” she fawns, gripping your upper arms with her hands as you reflexively do the same. “You are so beautiful, I can’t believe Emily has hidden you from us this whole time.”

“I’m assuming you’re Penelope?” you ask, giggling shyly at the onslaught of immediate love, refusing to meet Emily’s I told you so glare you can feel burning into you. “I’m Y/N, it’s so good to finally meet you.”

“I’m sorry.” A blonde woman who you recognise as JJ comes up to pull Penelope away from where she’s brushing through your hair with her fingers. “She’s already had a bit to drink. I’m JJ, it’s so nice to finally meet you, Y/N.” She leans in to give you a quick hug which you gladly reciprocate, feeling safe in her warm embrace.

“Nice to meet you too,” you smile, edging back into Emily’s grip where Penelope and JJ had pulled you away slightly. “I’ve wanted to meet you for so long, I’m happy Emily finally came around to the idea.” You’re teasing a little, but the fond look in Emily’s eyes tells you she’s on board.

Hotch and Morgan come up to greet you in slightly less invasive ways, Hotch opting for a handshake and Morgan for a quick kiss on the cheek, both smiling at you in the same manner everyone else has. Spencer, though, opts for a hug, which Emily later tells you is a big deal, and tells you how wonderful it is to meet you. “How on earth did Emily manage to pull you?” he jokes, to which Morgan fist bumps him and Emily swats the both of them as you stifle another giggle.

“Don’t worry, Em, I still think you’re the most gorgeous person ever ,” you say, fawning up at her. Emily can’t be blamed for her actions when you look at her like that, so she leans down to plant a firm kiss on your lips, making everyone ‘aww’ at the two of you.

“I think I remember telling you not to turn them against me,” Emily teases again. “But I’m glad you’re still on my side.”

“Always,” you promise as everyone starts to disperse, going to sit around the table as Rossi introduces the pasta dish he’s cooked.

It’s still a little intimidating standing in a room full of FBI agents. Your job is nowhere near as heroic or dangerous and you feel small surrounded by such strong and powerful people, but the love in the room feels palpable. Emily keeps you attached to her side all night, always touching you in some way to make sure you feel safe and anchored in such a new environment.

Penelope, JJ, and Spencer don’t let up on the questioning all night, desperate to know every single thing about both you and Emily before it’s time to go home, making you feel included. “I want to know everything like everything like absolutely eeeeverything…” Penelope asks, as she pointedly takes the seat the other side of you.

“I, however, do not,” Rossi laughs as you blush furiously, comforted only by Emily’s hand on your thigh. Hotch agrees with Rossi while everyone else looks vaguely in agreement with Penelope, even if they’re trying as hard as they can to pretend they’re not.

Emily laughs confidently, and you’re caught up again in how beautiful she is. “We’ll save that for a girls’ night, I think.”

“Am I invited?” Spencer asks innocently.

Emily just rolls her eyes. “Of course you are, genius,” she says, kicking him under the table. Y/N doesn’t miss the small ‘yesss’ he lets out under his breath at that, making her smile fondly.

“Am I invited?” Morgan asks cheekily, waggling his eyebrows.

“Absolutely not,” Emily scoffs, rolling her eyes again. “I can’t reach him under the table, Spencer you kick him.” To which Spencer obliges, making everyone laugh as Morgan punches him lightly on the arm. It’s like watching a family dinner, you think as everyone tucks in, chatter loud and rambunctious, everyone taking turns telling stories and jokes with not a single person left out.

The team embrace you with open arms, thoroughly enjoying the story of how you met and surprised to hear that you’d already moved in together -- with the exception of a few -- but everyone clearly sees how in love the two of you are and you leave Rossi’s with a warm belly and a happy smile. Hugging everyone goodbye feels sad, but you’re happy in the knowledge that you’re invited to the next girls plus Spencer night, and that Rossi has already made you promise to come to the next pasta and wine party he hosts.

As you giggle walking back to the car with the chorus of ‘Bye Y/N!’s and ‘Don’t let her go Emily!’s behind you, Emily pulls you closer, kissing you on the cheek as you press yourselves as close together as you can while on the move. “What did I tell you?” she asks you, teasingly close to the shell of your ear.

“Fine,” you concede, not very upset about it at all. “You were right.”

“I’d like that in writing please,” she says triumphantly as you arrive at the car. She unlocks it and gives you one last kiss on the lips before you part to get in, looking at you sincerely and gripping your face with both her hands. “I’m just glad they saw how absolutely lucky I am to have found you.”

(Keep an eye out for the smutty Emily x Reader fic coming out soon...)

#criminal minds #criminal minds writing #criminal minds fic #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily #emily prentiss #my writing #criminal minds fluff

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spices-and-cherries · 3 years

Text

Being domestic with Benoit Blanc would include...

There’s not nearly enough content for this wonderful man and so here I am, making it myself. I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Fluff

- You! Have! Matching! Mugs! You had seen a nice mug set for couples and had asked Benoit if he’d be okay with it. He said yes! A few months later, he had come home from a trip and surprised you with a new set. He bought them as a souvenir and thought you’d like them. Now, you have four sets. If it weren’t for the fact that you don’t really need an exorbitant amount of mugs, you’d probably have more.

- He’s messy. Not in a bad or gross way, he just tends to be disorganized. He’s one of those people who know exactly where everything is even though the place looks like a train wreck. It’s for that exact reason that you don’t go into his office very often (unless it’s to bring him a snack).

- His closet, on the other hand, is very neat. It’s most because he doesn’t have much there to begin with. He just sticks with what he likes and only gets new clothes when he really needs to. That being said, he has one drawer from your dresser just for his ties. He usually picks them out based on his mood and he takes his time to choose the right one. Pro Tip: Get him one for the holidays or for his birthday. He’ll wear it for a week straight.

- He doesn’t tend to take cases that are out of the region. He likes being in the comfort of his home and you - it helps him think better than some hotel room. He always asks if he can talk his thoughts out loud and you almost always say yes. It didn’t take long for him to start bouncing ideas off of you.

- He loves helping you out with your job just as much as you helping him. He’ll listen to you with all of his attention when you feel you need to go through your presentation just one more time. He likes to learn and likes to hear your voice. It makes him feel better about him always talking about cases - he doesn’t want you to feel like he’s taking and not giving. Of course, you’ve never thought that because you love to hear him talk and to see him get excited.

- You’ve split the chores and do as much of it as possible on Saturday. The both of you try to make it as fun as possible with music playing or having jeopardy in the background (the winner gets a forehead kiss). There is no laundry machine in your apartment, so you have to go downstairs. Folding and hanging it when it’s done, while a bit tedious, is the best part. You get to rest a little and talk about the week or anything new that’s caught your interest.

- At some point, you get a cat. He has short hair and is a sand color. His name is Sleuth. You and Benoit took almost a week to find the perfect name. You take turns feeding him and taking care of the litterbox. Sleuth is pretty affectionate and will most definitely sit on you as you cuddle on the couch. You may or may not have a folder of Sleuth and Benoit napping together saved on your phone. When you need to take five at work, it’s usually the first thing you go to. They make you feel fuzzy inside.

- You really want to have at least one plant, but Benoit doesn’t have the attention span and you’ve always had bad luck with them. You settle on a nice arrangement of cacti instead. They sit along the windowsill in the living room.

- He always let you use the bathroom first. You never really understood it so one day you dragged him in with you so you could brush your teeth together. Now, it’s a daily routine. Maybe you’ll shave at the same time or do your make-up next to him. This is also how you got him into skincare. He has very delicate skin, but he always stuck with moisturizer. You offer some of your foam cleanser and he accepts out of curiosity. He ends up liking it, so you buy another bottle. He was very touched.

- After getting sleuth, he brushes the hair off his favorite coat every morning. You end up getting him a lint roller because it was getting a little ridiculous.

- You now have an affinity for cigars. He usually smokes them outside out of concern for your shared space - not to mention Sleuth. You find that the smell of cigar smoke and his aftershave becomes very comforting. Maybe at some point you’ll give it a try. Maybe you’ll even enjoy it or decide to save it for special occasions. If you are ever curious about cigars, he would be more than happy to tell you anything you want to know.

- Benoit is sober. He finds that alcohol can mess with his brain and he doesn’t like the feeling of not being in complete control of himself or having no awareness of what’s around him. He totally respects it if you do enjoy a glass of wine with dinner or relaxing with a can of beer. For fancy occasions, like an anniversary or a holiday dinner, he may have a glass of wine and actually enjoy it. While he doesn’t have a lot of experience with wine, he does like white over red because it’s not as bitter. Either way, he’s the most content with his cigars.

- Sometimes, when the both of you can afford to stay up late, you put on a movie. While he enjoys mysteries, he has a strong affinity for older comedies and musicals. They remind him of his childhood. Some of his favorites are My Fair Lady (1964), Harvey (1950), and anything Charlie Chaplin. He also enjoys more modern comedies, not just because of the humor, but because you were the one to recommend them. He makes sure that there’s always enough popcorn and blankets and enough space for Sleuth to join you. These little dates are some of your favorites.

- You’re not the biggest fan of shoes in the apartment - you like to keep them by the door. Benoit makes an effort to remember to take his off when he comes home.

- He likes hearing you sing, whether it’s while you work or washing the dishes. He’ll try to keep as quite as possible so you won’t stop. On the rare occasion that you spot him and continue singing (you usually clam up immediately), he’ll sing or hum along.

- He’s really good at listening. If you are crying, he’ll just hold you close to him, rubbing your back or kissing the top of your head. He’ll wait until you want to talk and always knows what to say or when to not say anything at all. It’s not often that he himself will cry. If something happened at work, he won’t talk much. It doesn’t happen a lot, but you can see the tells and will let him have his space. You might have to baby him a little to get him to eat because he will forget. When the two of you go to bed, he becomes the little spoon and will melt into your arms. You’ll rub his back and run your hand comfortingly through his hair.

- He’s not super into PDA, but loves cuddles. He likes to be the little spoon when you’re on the couch taking a nap. He loves having your hands running through his hair. If you two are sitting, you’ll be resting your head on his shoulder and your arms around his. In bed, unless he’s sad, he is the big spoon. He like feeling like he’s protecting you. He will make you wear socks if your toes are cold, but finds it amusing if they end up anywhere but your feet by morning.

- He radiates heat. You end up eating less pasta during summer because for some reason it makes him almost unbearably warm. It makes him sad that you are less willing to cuddle with him as a result. But in winter, it’s a whole other story. It’s the best time to cuddle because he’s almost like a weighted blanket. Hot cocoa, blankets, a movie and Benoit Blanc equal a wonderful winter weekend. It’s also the only time of the year that you demand he holds your hand when you find yourselves outside. At first, bless his heart, he thought it was because you kept forgetting your gloves (which was partly true) and kept reminding you to not forget them - he grabbed them himself at one point. If you just tell him you want to hold his hand, he’ll understand a lot quicker.

- He’s not very good in the kitchen. You try and teach him, but at this point, it’s a lost cause. He makes up for it by cleaning up the mess after. However, if you decide to do something super easy, you like to make him wear your ‘kiss the chef’ apron because it absolutely looks better on him than you.

Please feel free to send me requests or ideas! I really liked making this one, so I might do a Part 2...

- Simpy

#benoit blanc x reader #benoit blanc #benoitblanc #knives out #knives out movie #daniel craig #fanfic #headcanon #imagines #domestic bliss #x reader #movie characters #movie #fanfiction

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whump-tr0pes · 3 years

Text

Honor Bound 5 - 14

Honor Bound 5 - 14 (Forcibly Stripped) @badthingshappenbingo

Requested by @gottalovethemwriters

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, Honor Bound 4, and the prequel Vera.

AO3

Content warning: death threats, thoughts of death throughout, self-hatred, discussion/thoughts of hanging, blood mention, noncon nudity (shirtless only), mention of parent torturing child

Gavin’s eyes were red and stinging when Schiester and his men pulled into Crayton’s main square. There was a thin line of pink along the horizon to the east, the only hint of the coming sun. Gavin swallowed hard. His throat felt dry and gritty.

I’m never going to see the sun again.

Gavin shivered. He squeezed his eyes shut at the stab of agony that went through him as he caught a hint of Isaac’s smell again. His hands clenched into fists and he winced as the zip tie rubbed against his chafed skin.

He opened his eyes and stared blankly out the window. The square looked different, without all the snow. The light posts that lined it shone in the near-dark, and the scars on Gavin’s back flared to life as he saw the post he’d been tied to and caned, months and months ago. He chewed his lip and shifted in the seat. He knew, with a strangely detached blankness, that the caning was nothing compared to what Schiester was going to do to him.

“Once you have suffered what I deem appropriate for your crimes, you will be put to death.”

Gavin’s throat bobbed and tears sprang to his eyes. I begged them to kill me. I begged Vera to kill me.

The car pulled up to the town hall and turned down an alley next to it. Gavin couldn’t find it in him to be afraid as the driver pulled into a sally port behind the town hall and turned the car off. He felt desolate on the inside, frozen, empty. The sally port door began to slowly close behind them. A light flicked on overhead, casting the garage in a dim, sickly yellow.

The sally port closed, and the guards opened their doors. Schiester stepped out and straightened his coat – thick gray wool, stretching all the way down to his knees. Gavin thought it might be the one he’d been wearing when the family first arrived in the north. He couldn’t be sure. It didn’t matter. He shivered in the cold, protected by nothing but Isaac’s t-shirt. The guards reached in and roughly dragged Gavin out of the car. He sucked in a breath. His toes curled away from the freezing cement floor.

Schiester looked down at Gavin’s bare feet, and his brow wrinkled. “Where are his shoes?” he said casually, his breath fogging lightly in the cold of the garage.

“Didn’t bring them,” one of the guards grunted. His hand tightened around Gavin’s upper arm, so hard Gavin could feel it bruise.

Schiester blinked once, and then slowly brought up his gaze to look at the guard. Gavin shivered at the coldness in Schiester’s eyes, the tightly coiled violence that he kept perfectly in check.

“You what?” Schiester said, his voice carefully even.

The guard hesitated. “We… didn’t bring them. Sir.” His hands tightened even more on Gavin’s arm, and Gavin couldn’t hold back a whimper.

Schiester drew in a slow, deep breath and let it out. It fogged around his mouth like he was breathing fire. “And what,” he said softly, “Do you think his people will do when they find him missing, with his shoes still there? A coat I can almost understand. But shoes? They’ll know he couldn’t get far, and when they fail to find him…”

The guard blanched and in the cold yellow light of the garage, he looked like a wax statue – or a corpse. “Um,” he mumbled. “Sir… I apologize.”

Schiester pierced the guard with his gaze. The guard squirmed and stared at the floor. After a moment, Schiester blinked slowly and wet his lips. “Well,” he said softly, with a glance at Gavin. “At least this one’s suffering will be brief, if they come for him.” He turned on his heel and headed for a door at the back of the garage. One of the guards tripped forward to open the door for him.

The guard holding Gavin jerked him forward and dragged him towards the door, as if he was expecting Gavin to resist. Gavin stumbled forward on legs that felt disconnected from his body. His hands and feet were numb from the cold. He shivered so violently his muscles ached.

Schiester disappeared into the doorway, and Gavin was pulled behind. He blinked as he was led down a short hallway with cement walls, cement floor, and no windows, lit by the same pale lights from the garage. He panted in short, whimpering exhales that clouded in the air. Icy dread trickled down the back of his neck as he was led deep into the building – then down some stairs to the floor below.

This is what I did to Isaac, he thought with a crashing wave of despair. I paraded him through my fucking warehouse and took him down to the basement and chained him up and beat him and hurt him and— He did his best to hold down a whimper as shame pulsed dully through him.

Schiester glanced back at the sound, his footsteps echoing in the stairwell. He turned back with a slight smile on his face and said nothing.

Gavin heaved a sob and ducked his head, trying to catch another hint of Isaac from his shirt. He clutched for a shred of comfort, a moment of relief from the throbbing terror that pressed against the inside of his skull. He’ll think I hated him. He’ll think I lied. He’ll think I never loved him. I’m going to die and he’ll blame himself… I didn’t mean… Shame lashed him as he breathed in the faint scent of Isaac’s sweat and soap and skin.

He hated himself for his selfish need to keep that scrap of Isaac with him. He knew when Isaac woke up, that letter would break him. Gavin was going to break Isaac again with the rising sun, with that letter by lying to him, confirming Isaac’s worst fears – but he was desperate. He was desperate to feel something good. He could almost feel the shadow of Isaac’s arms around him as he breathed Isaac’s faint and fading smell from the shirt.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Gavin looked around with blank despair. His gaze went straight to a set of gallows built against the wall. A wooden platform stood about three feet in the air, with two nooses hanging from the ceiling above. There was a lever at the side of the platform that could be pulled to let the platform drop.

Gavin’s throat ached as he swallowed and choked on the memory of the rope around his neck – the burning in his chest – the bitter cold against his skin – the sound of Isaac screaming – the smell of Isaac’s blood after Schiester’s men cut him to prove Gavin was broken.

Even then. He tried to protect me even then.

He realized then why Schiester’s people tried to hang him in the square, instead of just putting him on his knees and shooting him dead with one of the pistols they carried on their hips. As his gaze moved numbly over the gallows, he knew. Schiester had been killing people like this since long before then. Gavin’s vision blurred with tears.

That’s how I’m going to die. He shuddered as he stared at the nooses, imagining how it was going to feel when one of them tightened around his neck, the rope rough against his skin, cutting off his air while he kicked and strangled and died. He wondered what they would do to his body afterwards. Would they bury him? Did they have a graveyard of innocent people killed because of the choices they made to survive? Was Gavin going to be buried with them, a killer and a sadist and a torturer beside the people he would have tortured and killed?

Gavin looked around, his heart beating faster, pounding in his chest to the thrum of his own terror. Just like the hallway upstairs, the room was cement walls and a cement floor. The ceiling disappeared in the glare of lights that made his head ache behind his eyes. Just opposite the gallows was a mirror; Gavin wondered if it was one-way glass, placed there so people could be executed without ever seeing their accusers’ faces.

Along the walls were five barred cells. They were all empty. Gavin wondered how long they ever stayed full. When Gray found out Schiester was killing people, they said one of his victims was killed the same day he’d been found. But Gavin wasn’t like the kid Schiester killed – Caleb, that was his name. Gavin glanced at the gallows and shivered as the temperature in the already cold room seemed to drop.

There was no one else in the basement. Gavin wondered, dimly, if they turned on the heat for the guards when they had someone to watch.

He hissed in a breath as the guard’s hand tightened on his arm and dragged him to the center of the room. The guard threw Gavin roughly to his knees. Gavin grunted and pulled weakly at the zip tie around his wrists. He could see Schiester’s boots as he stopped walking and slowly turned to face Gavin.

Gavin sobbed weakly as a hand gripped his hair and dragged his head up so he was forced to look at Schiester, who looked down at Gavin with a hint of vicious satisfaction on his face. Gavin pressed his trembling lips together. Words burned in his throat, filled his mouth until he felt like he would be sick if he didn’t say them.

Please. Please, don’t kill me.

A tear rolled down his cheek as he bit back the desperate plea.

Daniel Schiester tilted his head as he looked down at Gavin. Gavin squirmed under his gaze and couldn’t help but feel, not for the first time, that Schiester was looking for someone else in the lines of Gavin’s face, the set of his jaw, the frame of his shoulders. Gavin shivered and wet his lips. He could taste his own tears on his tongue.

“Y-you knew my father,” he said softly.

Schiester snorted. “Yes,” he said with a casual nod of his head. “I did.”

Gavin opened his mouth to speak again, then closed it. His knees ached against the cold floor. His stomach roiled as he wondered what his father must have done to Schiester to make him hate Gavin so goddamned much.

I’ve done enough things for him to hate me for. I’ve done so many things.

Schiester tilted his head and glanced up at the guard holding Gavin on his knees. “Alvarado,” he said softly. “Show me his scars.”

Alvarado grunted, and there was a pinch at Gavin’s wrists as the zip tie was cut away. Gavin gasped as Alvarado dragged his shirt up over his head and yanked it off his arms.

“NO!” Gavin screamed as he clawed at the shirt. He heard seams pop as Alvarado snatched it out of his grasp and kicked him onto the floor. Gavin cried out at the icy floor on his bare chest, and scrambled to his hands and knees before a boot on his back shoved him to the ground again. His breath froze in his chest.

“Interesting,” Schiester drawled above him. “It seems someone felt the need to redo Gray and Isaac’s handiwork. Did they make those cuts themselves?”

“I-it was my bodyguard,” Gavin heaved as he shivered on the floor. “My mom, my mom told him to, to hurt me so I’d… tell her how I…” Tears burned in his eyes and dripped onto the floor beneath him. His voice cracked and he heaved a sob. “Sh-she tortured me so I’d tell her how to… h-hurt Isaac.”

Schiester scoffed. “Fabricating a story like that will not spare your life, Gavin Stormbeck. I’m afraid you assume I feel enough affection for those people to be moved by the notion of you protecting them.”

Gavin sobbed weakly, and he pressed his forehead into the floor. The scars stung in the cold air. Pain pounded inside Gavin’s head, the sickness and agony of the moment when he’d broken and told his mother everything. Everything she needed to torture Isaac. Everything she could use to torment Gavin’s family, while he just stood there and watched.

The boot let up from his back, and he dragged in a breath. He lay prone on the floor, shivering, watching Schiester’s boots where they stood inches from his face. After a long moment, he dared to look up at Schiester with terrified eyes.

Schiester’s lip curled as he stared at Gavin. “Get him up,” he snapped. “And tie him. Fifty lashes, to begin his sentence. And this time, I’ll administer them.”

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts, @womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @whatwhumpcomments, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @justwhumpitwhumpitgood, @justplainwhump, @moose-teeth, @whumpywhumper, @finder-of-rings, @inky-whump, @thatsthewhump, @orchidscript, @insanitywishes, @this-mightaswell-happen, @newandfiguringitout, @whumpkitty, @pretty-face-breaker, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @pebbledriscoll, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @endless-whump, @grizzlie70, @oops-its-whump

#honor bound 5 #bad things happen bingo #forcibly stripped #Gavin whump #death threats #thoughts of death tw #self-loathing #Gavin/Isaac #hanging tw #blood mention tw #manhandling #noncon nudity tw #abuse tw #my oc: Gavin

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Whumptober Day 23: Exhaustion

CW: Abduction/kidnapping, sadistic/creepy whumper, manhandling, noncon touch (nonsexual), xenophobic language/name-calling, cigarette burn

“Wake up, Russki.” The words, spoken in a deep velvet rumble, slightly rough-edged with the last haziness of a night of restful sleep, are followed by a heavy-handed punch to Artyom’s ribs that brings him gasping back to panicked consciousness.

Something snaps inside him, and he groans, closing his eyes tightly, fighting the new rush of hot tears that threaten. He can already feel the dried tracks of earlier tears, the way they move when he swallowed, works his jaw a little. His mouth still tastes like metal, his tongue is heavy and dry behind his teeth.

He had lain in terror as the van he’d been loaded into had driven away from the apartment, bound but not gagged - because, as the man who had taken him had said, I can kill you far faster than anyone will find you if you start screaming.

At some point, the van had pulled over, but Artyom had seen nothing before bitter water was poured down his throat. He tried to spit it out, but he swallowed enough - because within minutes of the van moving again, he’d started to drift in a restless gray haze. Not sleep enough to be restful, not awake enough to understand what was happening at all.

The man had left Artyom, soaked from the water he’d tried to avoid drinking, and the van had started moving again, driven for hours through the night, and now it stopped again. Now the door opens.

Now… what?

“There we go, Russki. Up you get.” The man grabs him by the upper arm and pulls him from the van. He winces as his feet come down on gravel, sharp-edged pebbles and he stumbles on wobbly legs, knees threatening buckle and collapse. His head lolls to one side and he blinks in long, slow struggles to open his eyes again. Whatever it is, it’s still in his system.

The man’s hand grips tightly into Artyom’s thick dark hair, jerking his head back up, and his eyes struggle and fail to focus on the face of the man who has taken him. This is how Misha’s victims feel, he thinks, this is how their last moments go. But Misha never drugs them, ever, he never does, and is that better?

Or is it worse?

“My friend is already here, waiting on us. We shouldn’t be rude, boy.” The man pets heavily through his hair with that thick-fingered hand, and Artyom struggles weakly, thrashing, but he might as well be a kitten for all the good his struggles do.

The drugs in his system weigh him down, he is too exhausted to understand what’s happening or how to begin to fight it. His eyes keep trying to close and stay closed, and he whimpers, forcing them back open.

“Pozhaluysta…” He groans, collapsing forward against the heavy solidity of the man, the soft tailored fabric of his expensive suitjacket, the scent of clove cigarettes that clings to him like a woman’s fingers clutching tightly. “Pozhaluysta, otpusti menya…”

“The ratspeak will be the first thing I rid you of,” The man rumbles, stepping back and shoving Artyom, watching him lose his balance and fall sideways in a graceless heap to the ground, rolling into the short bristly grass along the side of the road, his hands tied behind his back.

The man kicks him again, and smiles at the helpless sound he makes in return.

“Sorry to hear about your loss. Is this the one who did it?” A new voice speaks from nearby and Artyom looks up, blinking, struggling to see with only the headlights of two sets of vehicles - the van and another, sleeker black two-door car - to give any light at all.

A man walks up, his expensive black leather shoes crunching into the gravel, wearing a long gray coat and with dark hair slicked back, a dangerous sparkle of amusement in his dark eyes.

In the black car, where the driver’s side door is open, another man speaks animatedly into his phone, and Artyom stares, uncomprehending, his tired drugged brain moving too slowly to make the connections.

“This is him. I want a clean wipe and I want it fast. I don’t care what skills he has. You told her?”

“I told her. Lucky you called me. She likes me, inasmuch as Renford likes anyone, I suppose. I’ll take care of it. You’re good with the cost we discussed?”

“Money’s not a problem. You’ll get your cut of what Renford charges for him and ten percent off my business in this area for a full calendar year, starting the day he’s delivered back to me.”

Artyom can do nothing but blink, and blink, and blink again. A car drives by, but doesn’t stop or even slow down, and Artyom watches its lights disappear around a bend. He’s so tired he can barely remember how to be frightened of dying here.

The dark-haired man looks down at him, eyes running from his hair to is feet and back again. Appraising him. Artyom shudders, feeling suddenly pinned by that gaze, like the man is tearing off his clothing to see what’s underneath. The dark-haired man smiles. “If you’re not going to use him, what do you want him for? I could do a lot with a good grip on that hair and a gag.”

Artyom turns away. Both men laugh.

The man who has taken him lights a thin brown cigarette, blowing sweet smoke into the air around them. “He killed my partner. I want him to suffer, Giovanni. Surely you understand.”

The man in the gray coat looks back at his black car, and the passenger inside who waves at him when he saw them looking. “I do,” He says softly, genuine love in his voice.

“Good.” The man leans down, shoving Artyom onto his back, trapping his bound hands behind him and forcing his back to arch to accommodate them where he lay in the grass. “I’ll see you again, little Russki. But first… let me give you something to remember me by.”

He yanks up Artyom’s shirt and jams the end of his cigarette directly into the thin skin just inside one hip.

Artyom’s back arches into a bow as he screams, his hip alight with white-hot pain centered around the tiny spot where the cigarette digs in and in and in, searing layers of skin and lighting up nerves.

The sound echoes around them, bounces off the trees, and is swallowed up again.

When the cigarette is pulled back, he collapses, tears running from his eyes, pleading in Russian through choked-off broken sobs that he was so sorry, that Misha had been the one to kill, all he did was help the bodies be hidden, he was so sorry-

The man laughs, putting the cigarette back to his lips and lighting it again as he straightens up.

“Can you understand him?” The dark-haired man in the gray coat asks, eyebrows slightly raised, unbothered by the casual violence. “I don’t speak... whatever that is.”

“Not a fuckin’ word. Fucking Russians. In my day, we took care of the fucking Soviets.”

The dark-haired man raises one eyebrow and his voice has the barest hint of an Italian accent. “Haven’t seen Soviets in a good long time, Oscar. The Cold War ended, as I recall.”

“Hmph. Not for me. Remind Renford we agreed he comes to me not speaking a fucking word of it, ever again.”

“Deal.”

The man who had taken him walks away, gets back in his van, and pulls away, leaving Artyom, shaking with pain and weeping fresh tears into the dry grass, lying on the side of the road with a man who watches him with cold black eyes.

“You should have been more careful about who you killed,” The man says, almost genially, as he leans down and dragged Artyom upright, pulling him the twenty feet to where his car was waiting. “Oscar isn’t a good man to anger. No one in our line of work is.”

The man sitting inside the car is still on the phone. It sounds like he's talking about the day’s stock market prices. The moment is surreal.

Artyom is deposited unceremoniously into the trunk, thumping in on his right shoulder, wincing and curling up. The trunk closes and he is left momentarily in silence, only the sound of his own gasping, tearful breaths, the pain throbbing through his hip.

Then the car starts up, the engine purring in a soft vibration underneath Artyom, and he hears, muffled through the car, a voice singing, “Oh, Mama, I’m in fear for my life from the long arm of the law… law man has put an end to my running and I’m so far from my home...”

The car spits gravel as they pull back onto the road.

Artyom is bumped so hard he smacks up into the trunk door and back down again, knocking his head twice in quick succession. White bursts behind his eyes and he groans. They can’t hear him, with the music so loud. They wouldn’t care anyway.

All he can do is curl up tighter in a weak attempt to protect himself, and pray that he’ll survive whatever came next.

At least Misha had gotten away.

---

Giovanni Rossi and Ridley Lordin belong to @slaintetowhump and @moose-teeth, respectively

@wildfaewhump @astrobly @finder-of-rings @slaintetowhump @moose-teeth @burtlederp @dhiabori @doveotions @newandfiguringitout @raigash @thatsthewhump

#whumptober2020 #no. 23 #exhaustion #captivity #captured #whump #antoni sings lullabies #drugged #forced drugging tw #xenophobia tw #davies is not a good man okay #burns tw #box boy #box boy universe #sadistic whumper #creepy whumper

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halcyon-writings · 3 years

Text

family

requested?: yes (anonymous) //tldr, if alucard had a sibling (the reader, of course) dealing with the loss of family, both living and not

note(s)/warning(s): canonical character death, spoilers babyyyyy, violence and injury, angst it’s rare for anyone in this series to have a good time huh?, also for this being that the reader can literally look however you want, imma say Lisa isn’t white bc I do what I want and it’s my fic :) this is also the most i’ve written in a good while omg, im highkey proud so pls don’t let this flop

Lisa Tepes is dead.

Your mother, is dead.

Killed, burned alive. Gone to ashes.

All because the church had believed she was a witch of sorts. Several thoughts dance in the back of your mind as you gaze upon the pyre. Smoldering from the heat, the flames gone. Your father leaving his message, no, his warning, that he would act in one year.

“A farce that was!” You hear a shout, and you force down the bitter laugh, throat tight and eyes burning. Especially so when you slowly begin to hear continued shouts of agreement, from voices previously silent.

Here your mother was, her final resting place. Burned to ashes for some sick show of power.

And you could do nothing as she was mocked for it.

Your fist clenched at your side, you feel your nails cutting into your skin, but you walk away to return home.

And to say that the castle was no less better was an understatement. Your father was most likely in his quarters.

And when you finally sit down, the weight of your weary finally settling against your soul, do you allow yourself cry. Quiet tears turning to sobs as you muffle your voice with a pillow.

You had failed her. Missing the chance to save your mother, too late to have done anything.

But you pause, noticing the presence at your door, your brothers familiar knocking pattern resounding suddenly through the empty hall.

“Come in,” Your voice is embarrassingly raspy. As you clear your throat, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. But it wouldn’t hide the redness of your eyes.

Adrian says nothing, and a part of you wishes he did. His larger hand takes yours. A comforting squeeze.

You blink again feeling your eyes burn, and you squeeze his hand back.

“Father is...” He trails off, no doubt thinking of what he could say next.

“What he plans on doing, it’s not justice.”

You stare up at him, But it would be deserving. A bitter corner of your mind supplies.

While Adrian had taken after Mother in his demeanor, much more kinder, more welcoming. You were no doubt like Father. Reserved, distrusting, easily prone to grudges if you were wronged in some way.

But you bite your tongue.

“He gave them a year,” You murmur after some time, “But no doubt he’s ready to calling his armies.”

At this Adrian turns alarmed. the warmth from his hand slips away.

“We must stop him!”

You’re still reeling from the events from earlier today, and a part of you wishes to have no part in his attempt to try and stop your father. But then you remember your mother.

Her kindness, regardless of how she was viewed for being different.

And your warily stand anyway.

If only you had more sense. Your father remains eerily silent as he embraces you both. His hold tighter, and while Adrian seemed convinced, you saw the dark look in his eyes.

The year had passed. You weren’t surprised to hear of the bloodshed.

It was naive to expect otherwise. While reluctantly following your brother, you can only stand, frozen as your blood feels like ice in your veins as your remaining family clashes.

“No.” Your voice is barely a whisper.

They don’t hear you.

Glass shatters.

And foolishly enough, you rush forward.

With your brother injured and fleeing, and you yourself were not free from any sort of pain.

Stepping in between the two as they fought ended with a gnarly gash on your shoulder, as you fell to your knees and blood slipping past your fingers. Your father stands in front of you, like a protective pillar as your brother stares in shock, quickly wanting to help you in some way.

And then the fight is over. Your brother is gone too.

The castle is much larger and colder now.

As you’re confined to your room, the wound healing into an angry red, then to a muted and dull scar. For a moment you wished it took longer, your father guilty and you were reminded of times you had been sick when you were younger. While you had not been too keen on the typical children’s books, reading theory on physics and other sciences only seemed fun when he would read to you and you’d ask questions in between passages. (Your voice funny from a stuffy nose led to laughter and a small coughing fit but otherwise it was nice).

But now was not the time to reminisce on the happy childhood.

You know you cannot stay. Ultimately, Adrian had been right. Once you feel as though you can move your arm once again, slowly, you begin pack a small bag. You didn’t want to build up any suspicions, finding some money in your room and whenever you could take a few coins or so from your father that he would not miss.

Extra clothes were folded and put away separately.

And you make your escape on a rainy evening, the uneven droplets helping hide your tracks. But you knew now that your father had brought back Hector and Isaac, new generals to help fight in his war, you had to be weary of the night creatures that would no doubt be sent after you.

Well, you were creative. At times flying in a transformed look, no one would suspect a bat in the dark of night afterall. And it was easier to. find good vantage points that way. But to also avoid any people, you didn’t quite trust yourself to not get into an altercation with a bigot.

You rarely slept longer than necessary, especially not when those dreams were memories or nightmares.

Now that you had learned how to walk, you were a right menace. It was an uphill battle in itself to keep you in one place. You were curious and the world you knew (being your father’s vast castle) was huge. Your childlike curiosity was never let down by your adventures.

You laugh quietly, which sounds like small squeaks as you fly up and hide above the gaudy chandeliers. Your father, giant coat gone, hair tied back and in a plain dress shirt and slacks as he searched for a curious toddler.

Snickers continuing as he paces down the hall. You hop down, landing slowly and feet planting into the ground, knees bent. Before you had down the opposite direction.

The lab usually wasn’t a place you could be allowed in on your own. But having heard that your mother was there, you knew it wouldn’t be a problem! So your little legs carried you along. Until you found the familiar doorway.

Dozens of tubes and mechanisms had you turning your head as you wandered in, your shoes tapping against the marble floor.

“Now what brings you here, sweetling?” The warmth of your mother’s voice has you smiling before you see her. As you run forward and hug her side, clutching her dress in your small fists. “Not causing trouble for your father are you?”

You shake your head grin betraying your word, “Nope! I’m not doing any trouble!”

“And how since when did that happen?” She laughs gently.

“Now.”

Your brother looks up from his own books, waving before returning to work. Your nose crinkles, so much for playing experimenting. But before you can say much, your nearly yelp as you’re brought up into the air by a pair of strong arms.

“I’ve found you, little wanderer.” Your father’s voice carries no heat behind it. Then again, he was always soft hearted for you and your brother. But most of all, your mother.

“I’m not little!” You pout, “I’m big now!”

You’re taken away from your reverie at the snap of a twig.

With your lack of sleep, as you had insisted on traveling more, you were less than surprised to have been snuck up on.

“Peace, my friend,” The old man murmurs. You keep your knife in an iron grip in front of you. Who you’re guessing is his son or grandson, has his hands raised the same way, but no weapon to be seen, magic, oh good. Then again, not like you needed a knife when you could make your nails go into claws and the fangs. Don’t forget the fangs.

“I can’t exactly be peaceful when it’s the middle of the night and suddenly figures in blue robes appear out of now where,” You answer dryly. But seeing as how the others behind the main two have not done or said anything noteworthy, nor were their stances make them look like they could really fight, you lower your weapon slightly.

Clearing your throat, “Although, I shouldn’t be swinging my own weapon around either.”

The old man just smiles gently. And you can’t help but be just slightly comforted.

In the end, the speakers stop for the evening. And the Elder, despite looking like a frail old man, is firm in his decision that you stay and “eat properly.” And like a scolded child, you listen. Food and drink all but pushed into your hands as you’re quickly brought into conversation, the previous confrontation all but forgotten.

And then you perk up when he mentions Gresit.

“So... the sleeping soldier,” You begin, slowly chewing on the sweet bread you had been given. “It was true?”

The Elder nods, “My grandchild and a traveller, they had gone to explore it. Well, the traveller had gone to save my grandchild. I will not hide the fact that I was a bit doubtful. But Belmont had proved himself a man of his word. Although, he does need to drink more water.”

You blink, a look of a surprise clear on your face. Belmont...

Fuck.

“Although I hadn’t expected the legend of the sleeping soldier to be realized so quickly.”

At your inquisitive look, the Elder begins to explain. Of a holy warrior beneath Gresit, who would come to save it’s people in their most dire of hours.

“The pair had come up with a man with long hair, like gold.” You couldn’t help but let out the breath you had been holding. So the Belmont didn’t try to kill him. you could breathe a little easier at that fact.

“Where are they now?” You ask, holding the empty cup in your hands, as you stare down as though waiting for something.

Getting your answer, you stand, adjusting your bag over your shoulders. You wave off the concern in staying, if it had already been several days since the Speakers had left Gresit, then you needed to cover a lot of land to get to your brother.

That is, until you saw the expression on the Elder’s face grow stern, as though he was scolding a child. With a heavier bag, one that the Elder insisted that you take some more things you could eat along the way, in exchange you give the Elder a small trinket you had been using to hide from the monsters of your father’s army, you finally set off. While your worries were not completely settled, your shoulders felt lighter. Metaphorically of course.

Of course, giving away the object that kept you hidden made it a bit more, difficult, when it came to trying to hide and travel at night. Much less even try to stop and rest.

It had barely been two days since you had left the speakers, and already, you had run into some trouble, a beastly creature’s claws barely caught on your sleeve, leaving your arm bare as you shuddered from the chill in the air. You can only sigh mournfully, you really liked that coat. But, better your sleeve than say, you actually getting wounded.

Your nails resemble claws, while your free hand holds the dagger in a steady grip. But being surrounded on all sides, it did not look promising.

Well, you thought mournfully, if you died you could at least see your mother again.

Until you hear the sound of what reminds you of a whistle? And then a sword flying through the air, slicing through the night creatures, giving you a chance to get some distance.

You hear the surprised shout of your name, and look up, to see your brother wide eyed, sword now returned to him, and a man and woman standing at his side.

“Um... hi.”

Much to your relief, the night creatures are easily taken care of.

And as you’re finally able to explain your story, you find yourself relaxing into the extra cloak given to you by the Elder.

“You mean you met the Speakers on your journey?!” A woman, petite with short blonde locks, who you learn is named Sypha, asks, and you notice the way her shoulders sag in relief.

You nod, “Yes. They all were safe.” If her shoulders sagged anymore she’d full on be slouching. You leave out the part of leaving a possibly precious trinket with them, not wanting her to think you cursed them or something.

“So you mean to tell me, Dracula, fucking Dracula, had more than one kid? That he actually had a woman not only give him not just one, but two children?” Is incredulously asked next by the scruffy looking man. Trevor, as your brother says.

You only stare in annoyance, sure your father was about to raise an army to annihilate the human populace but he didn’t used to be that way.

Before you can retort with a scathing remark of your own, Sypha elbows him harshly in the side. And you know it hurts from the way he immediately puts a hand where she hit him, eyes widening slightly. Serves him right.

“And what of...” Adrian- no Alucard as he wishes to be called, asks, near hesitant.

“Father?” You ask, arms crossed, “Same old same old. Planning the same amount of destruction here or there.”

As he looks to the snow covered earth, you roll your eyes, “Did you expect anything different?”

It’s quiet, and neither Sypha nor Trevor speak.

“No.”

You all sat around camp quietly for a while after that.

Your lungs feel like they’re being constricted. Your throat burns as you struggle to breathe, claws digging into your skin like knives. Before you’re thrown backwards, landing harshly against the wall. Books fall from the book case and your weapon clatters noisily from the ground.

You take shallow breaths, barely standing before you’re thrown once more. Curse your father’s stature and supernatural strength. You close your eyes, waiting for another attack and at least hoping to brace yourself for it, but it never came.

Instead, your brother stands in front of you, as he and your father remain in a standstill. Sypha and Trevor’s footsteps are rushing towards you three.

It all continues to move so fast, until he stops noticing the painting of your mother, as she had been holding your brother and then you as a baby, and the next thing you know, your father is staked through the heart. And with wobbly legs, you take your sword, and swing. So falls Dracula. But it felt like no victory.

You sit up with an alarmed look, stopping yourself from shouting.

That was... a dream? You rub your eyes, feeling that your cheeks are wet and you sigh.

When you see a shadow looming over you, the light of the fire giving slight visibility, you freeze. Before noticing it’s your brother and not his companions.

“Sorry,” You say, making sure to not look at him, so that he didn’t see your tears.

Quietly, he places his coat over your shoulders, sitting beside you, wrapping his own blanket loosely around his own shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

You only grip the jacket lapels tighter, shaking slightly as you hiccup, unable to stop yourself from crying again.

He must think it’s because you miss your mother, and you do. But this dream was far different. And you say nothing as he brings you into his arms. Your tears having long since dried when the sun rises moments later. But you find yourself falling asleep as your brother rubs soothing circles on your back, feeling the build up exhaustion finally leaving you.

When you’re awake much later in the day you can’t help but laugh a little when Sypha scolds your brother for being mean enough to make you cry, he didn’t you assure her quick enough, although you’re back to laughing when she then turns around to scold Belmont when he makes another slight comment.

#castlevania netflix x reader #castlevania imagines #castlevania imagine #castlevania netflix imagines #mine

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thelordofdarkreunion · 3 years

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Family Buisness

So, I haven’t gotten a story out in a while. Sorry about that. Things have been rather busy. However, I believe you will quite like this one. Scoundrel shenanigans galore and we get to meet Vir and Shepard’s families. If you have any ideas or want to see anything in this particular story line, I am open to requests and suggestions! I think this is going to be quite fun. As always, I own no one except Drake. Enjoy the story!

“So, uh, let me get this straight. There are nine of you, and only three have anything resembling a normal family. Of the others, one was kidnapped to be a child super soldier, one watched his family get murdered by an intergalactic mega-corporation, one had a god for a father who murdered his mother, one was raised by asshole trillionaires and left at the first opportunity, and two never knew their parents.”

“Yes.”

“Great. I’m sure all of you are completely stable.”

The massive, silent form of the Master Chief stood, perplexed, at the going-ons of his compatriots. You could not tell the thoughts flitting behind his immovable golden mask, though; he stood, still as a statue, as cold and unreadable as always. In front of him, the various members of the Magnificent Scoundrels smoothed their hair, tightened coats and collars, and made absolute certain their shoes were shined to perfection.

They were aboard the Enterprise, the sterile grey of the walls echoing with the faintest rustling of cloth. It had been decided that, while the entire fleet was present, the Scoundrels themselves were to transfer to the Enterprise to prepare, then teleport to the surface of the planet below. The Chief still didn’t understand why, precisely, they were dressing up so much. It was only a party. He had graduated Spartan training in his Mjolnir armor, attended officer’s banquets in his Mjolnir armor, and received the UNSC Medal of Honor from Lord Hood in his Mjolnir armor. It didn’t come off then, and he didn’t see why it should now. Though, begrudgingly, he did admit to himself that he was not precisely familiar with social niceties and customs of regular humans.

The others had all dressed in the next to best; their exceptionally over-elaborate dress uniforms or suits had no place here. Vir and Cooper straightened their ties, and brushed invisible dust off sport coat lapels. Solo and Quill struggled in nicer versions of their usual vestments, tugging uncomfortably at too-tight collars and boots. Shepard pulled on his galaxy’s version of a tuxedo, and adjusted the high collar and coat line. Kirk was wearing some sleek diplomatic uniform, still quite similar to that of the Starfleet’s, but more elegant and suited to parties. Cain had originally planned to wear his usual Commissar’s coat and cap, thinking it perfectly fine for this situation, but the other Scoundrels had insisted, then begged, that he wear his full dress uniform, complete with far too much gold lace, epaulets, and a medal rack. He straightened an errant piece of lace and carefully brushed his hat. Drake was in his usual black coat, gloves and boots, perfectly dressed for any situation. That was, after all, the entire point of the outfit.

They had all been invited by Shepard and Vir to a family party of sorts. Those two were the only ones with any sort of close family of worth. It had been decided by higher powers (both of their mothers) that the two families should meet, and their sons’ new coworkers had been invited. A horrible idea, in Drake’s professional opinion. He looked over to Solo and Quill still itching in their formal clothes, Cain in his Imperial Commissar’s uniform, and the blank stare of Master Chief. Yeah, this was going to go great. Not to mention, of course, the fact that so many exceptionally powerful and influential individuals along with their families meeting in one spot was a magnet for assassinations or terrorist attacks. If he was contracted to kill them all, it’s what he would do. Cain finished straightening one last errant piece of lace and grinned over at his fellows.

“Well then. Are we ready to go?” he asked. The party was to take place on the moon below, a halfway point between multiple different galaxies. The SSV Orizaba, an utterly massive dreadnought and pride of the System’s Alliance Navy, was currently orbiting the planet near to the Scoundrels’ fleet. Captained by Hannah Shepard, she had obviously pulled some strings to get it stationed in the far reaches of space, and to have shore leave on this planet, at this precise time. A civilian starliner carrying the Virs had also shown up, and according to spies on the ground, it was the entirety of the esteemed Admiral Adam Vir’s close family. Including multiple small children. There was no way this could go poorly.

“I think so,” replied Vir.

“Great. Everyone ready?” asked Drake. As he spoke, a lethally honed blade shot out of the space in his coat above his forearm. He examined it with a critical eye before retracting it. It fitted perfectly back in place, concealed from sight. Shepard rolled his eyes.

“Do you really need that?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied Drake matter-of-factly.

“There are going to be children present,” shot Vir, slightly annoyed.

“I know,” said Drake, utterly nonplussed. “And there are going to be knives present as well. I’d be more worried about the kids getting their hands on those instead of me having one hidden on my forearm.” Vir and Shepard shared a look. They had convinced Cain to leave his ceremonial weapons behind, but Master Chief still had his sidearm, and Vir was fairly certain Cooper had a pistol hidden somewhere on his person.

“Fine,” replied Shepard. “But remember, no jokes.”

“With you wearing that suit, I don’t need to tell jokes,” shot Cooper, walking over to the group.

“I thought you said we weren’t supposed to kill anyone either,” replied Kirk with a laugh.

“Yeah, but, really,” said Vir, brushing it off. “Captain Shepard is a Naval staff officer, and my family are all civilians, so they might be kinda off-put about you guys’ particular brand of humor. No gay jokes, Pearl Harbor jokes, First Contact War jokes, first contact in general jokes, any political jokes, Vietnam War jokes, medical jokes, Drev War jokes, alien jokes, starship drive failure jokes, or any sort of horribly dark humor whatsoever.”

“Aww, there goes my entire repertoire,” fake-whined Drake, grinning. Shepard muttered something to himself, then, noticing the entire party was ready, nodded at Kirk, who led them through the halls of the Enterprise to the transporters. Several of the starship’s crew watched as they went, complimenting their dress, snickering, wishing them good luck, or making inappropriate comments. They reached the transporter, large circular chamber covered with the smooth white and grey plastic-like material of the ship.

“Say the words, please,” grinned Quill.

“Beam us up, Scotty!” fired back Kirk with enthusiasm. They disappeared with a high pitched whine and a flash.

On the Surface

Captain Hannah Shepard waited in the massive hotel ballroom her son and his strange colleagues had commissioned for this occasion. Her crew had been delighted with the shore leave to a planet so far removed, yet still with cities and a fair sized population. Earlier that evening, she had arrived by shuttle to the hotel. The commander of marines from the Orizaba had wished her good luck, still nervous she had declined their protection. She scoffed at that. She was in a civilian hotel in the far reaches of space, with the dreadnought’s full contingent easily within radio range. Besides, her son was going to be here, and he was an N7 graduate and a Spectre, no less. From what she’d heard, his new colleagues weren’t slouches, either.

She was quite annoyed at her son, though. He had been a hero, saved the Citadel from the Reapers (the Council may have denied they existed, but she knew better), only for his ship to be destroyed. They said he died. She went to his funeral. Saw the empty coffin next to his dress uniform. She cried, for her only son was dead.

Then, two years later, reports came that he was alive. Whispers that the first human Spectre was alive reached her ears. He was present on the Citadel for the first meeting between the new galaxies. He hadn’t said anything, and only recently sent her a message. She smiled grimly to herself. A mother’s fury was not something to be taken lightly. Commander John Shepard was in trouble.

But that would have to wait. For right now, more than anything else, she just wanted to see him again.

The reserved ballroom was massive, with long tables set in the middle for such a large party. A huge window, with elegant cross pieces in black metal, stretched overlooking the interior garden area of the hotel. Quite a nice view. The Vir family was here as well, having arrived by civilian shuttle. She found it bizarre that no one else had arrived; after all, from what she had heard, there were nine of these people, were there not? That was after she received the most peculiar message.

Captain Hannah Shepard

In regards to your obvious questions about the families of your son’s other co-workers, most of them don’t have any. It’s just best that way.

Regards,

Miranda Lawson, Executive Officer, Normandy

Indeed. Ms. Lawson is quite correct. It’s best you don’t ask, in fact.

Sincerely,

Captain Thomas Drake, Apocalypse

Drake,

Stop intercepting our communications.

Lawson,

Why? I know you’re doing the same thing with mine.

The Virs were quite nice, in fact. At the moment, groups of Admiral Vir’s nieces and nephews were running about the room, absolutely delighted with the open spaces and elegant architecture. She had spoken to the Admiral’s mother, and… well, they had much in common due to the nature of their son’s activities. Speaking of which…

The wooden double doors of the ballroom’s main entrance swung open, to reveal one of the strangest groups of individuals she’d ever seen. Vir’s brothers all turned and stared, some doing a better job at hiding it than others.

Captain Shepard immediately recognized Vir, his face quite similar to that of his siblings. An eyepatch covered one side of his head, something she hadn’t quite known about. Of course, she recognized her son, who gave her a lopsided grin immediately upon sighting her. The others, though… well.

There were four normal looking men, all dressed in suits or elegant combinations of coats and vests. She did not know any of their names. Two of them had the look of starship captains. She’d recognize that anywhere. One, a shorter black-haired man wore the look of a combat veteran. Definitely some sort of marine. Possibly special forces. The last, a brown-haired man with heavy boots, wore a greatcoat, and took in everything with a slightly amazed look. Don’t know what he is.

The last three, though… One, towering over most of his fellows, wore a massive black greatcoat and officer’s cap, extremely over-embroidered in gold lace. Red gloves covered his hands, and a full chest of medals on his chest shone with carefully polished beauty. She almost laughed at the epaulettes. Almost. It was then she noticed the symbol on his cap. A double-headed golden eagle, wings outstretched. Already, that symbol had become infamous throughout her galaxy. The golden Aquilia of the Imperium of Man. So this is an Imperial, and a high ranking one at that, it seems. Interesting.

The second was dressed in a knee length black coat, and wore elegant black boots and gloves. Captain Shepard nevertheless noted that the boots were heavily armored and very possibly well-suited for combat. This man looked at the room through clear blue eyes, calculating every individual within. He tried to hide it, but she saw the subtle glint of something behind those icy blue orbs. She’d been around long enough to know: this one is dangerous. Maybe a merc of some sort.

The last put everyone else to shame in terms of sheer lethalness. He was utterly massive, towering at least a full head over every other person in the room. Apparently disdaining to wear anything formal for this occasion, he was dressed in a full suit of green combat armor. A huge handgun rested at his side, and his head was covered by a helmet. Captain Shepard felt eyes judging her from behind a visor of glinting gold. He made no moves, simply standing, almost unmoving, at the back of the group, yet Captain Shepard somehow knew that he was by far the most lethal of them.

“Hi, Mom,” said Commander Shepard, snapping her out of her thoughts. He was everything she remembered. Her son. In the flesh. With a swift motion, she stepped forward and enveloped him in a hug. He returned it awkwardly at first, then hugged her back with fierce intensity. IN the corner of her eye, Captain Shepard could see Vir’s parents doing the same. Their colleagues looked on with amusement, or untraceable looks.

“I’ll talk to you later,” she hissed in Commander Shepard’s ear. The two mothers stepped forward as Vir’s siblings and their families watched. The black coated man smiled softly.

“There’s no need to be ashamed,” he started without preamble. “That’s how you know they love you,” he said to Admiral Vir and Commander Shepard. He gave a low bow. “I am Captain Thomas Drake, and I can say with absolute certainty we are all most pleased to meet all of you.”

And there we have it! Like I said before, if you have any ideas or suggestions for this story line, I’d love to here them!

#magnificent scoundrels #story #writing #crossover #my writing #fanfic #sc-fi

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littlesailorinthesun · 3 years

Text

is love nikki osha compliant?

Inspired by Brian David Gilbert's legendary Unraveled video "Smash Bros. owes millions of dollars in OSHA violations", I became curious how this would apply to Love Nikki suits. I looked through a few suits of choice to determine how OSHA-compliant they are.

First of all, I would like to say that while I have previously worked in a Health and Safety department, I apologize for any mistakes I make. This is not work (even if real Nikkis' lives are at stake here!)

For the Smash Bros. video, BDG looked primarily at the safety of various fighting arenas. Given that Love Nikki is a dress up game, I will of course be primarily looking at PPE (personal protective equipment) which falls under 1910 Subpart I; however, there are some instances where it is clear the environment is also unsafe.

The issue with determining what is proper PPE is mostly that it varies depends based on the environment you find yourself in. Given that *most* suits don't come with huge background props or backgrounds, I will just be extrapolating based on the item descriptions and the little context we have.

Heavy Machinery

One of my favorite suits, yet one of the worst offenders, Heavy Machinery actually calls out its own violation in the suit itself. If Miraland had OSHA, Heavy Machinery would unfortunately be breaking the rules.

According to OSHA's Nail Gun Safety Guide, people using nail guns should have the following PPE (in addition to the safety goggles): safety shoes (steel toed boots), hard hats, and hearing protection. Unfortunately, while maybe the shoes might have steel toes (though they don't look like they do), Heavy Machinery does not have a hard hat nor any hearing protection that I can see. This puts her in general violation of 1910.132(a).

One of the more frustrating parts is that she has eye protection, but she isn't actually using it! The item description for the goggles even says, "A mechanic can easily hurt his eyes, so it's good to wear goggles. Don't act cool and put them on your head!" Yet, she is doing just that, which causes her to violate 1910.133(a)(1). Please, don't follow her example and make sure to wear your goggles.

I will give her kudos for having the knee pad(?) but the rest of her clothing could probably do a better job. Unfortunately, Heavy Machinery is not OSHA-compliant.

The final comment I'd like to make on her is that if she is really wearing a battery on her back, I will have to give her kudos because those motherfuckers are heavy.

Adventurous Journey

A new environment! Actually, Adventurous Journey is adventuring throughout all of Miraland, and her item descriptions make mention of her visiting many several different places: an abandoned base, an old ruin, even a cave?

Adventurous Journey is wearing some pretty practical clothing, and her hand and foot protection look more than adequate. Her hammer looks like it's in great shape and, like Heavy Machinery, she even has her hair tied back. Her headlight is also a great choice.

While entering unknown spaces like caves can be dangerous, they typically aren't considered confined spaces. Besides that, it sounds like Adventurous Journey only went inside the cave to take shelter from the sandstorm instead of to explore.

Overall, I believe Adventurous Journey is OSHA-compliant. Have fun on your adventures!

Glacier Treader

Ada just wanted to learn something about penguins, but unfortunately she may end up learning something about ice water if she keeps up these unsafe practices.

According to 1910.28(b)(3)(i), employees should be protected from falling in holes by guardrails, covers, or something similar. Unfortunately, there is a giant hole in front of Ada and she has nothing keeping her from falling inside. The straps on her coat aren't attached to anything and that thing looks like it's about to fly off anyways. There may be a penguin in the hole, but such matters do not excuse Ada's research group's lack of fall protection.

On the bright side, the band-aids on Ada's face means that she has access to first aid and medical care!

Horn of Surprise

As fun as it would be to ride a giant candy train, it is unfortunately not OSHA-compliant.

As per 1910.21(b), a walking-working surface is any surface where an employee walks, works, or gains access to another work area. As the train conductor, Shebel is working on the top of the train, and thus it is subject to OSHA guidelines.

Unfortunately, the train is quite high off the ground - definitely more than 4 feet. Because of this, under 1910.28(b)(15), Shebel should have some sort of protection from falling to the ground below her, whether it be a guardrail, safety net, or another personal fall protection system.

She should probably also be wearing better PPE, too.

Ocean Lullaby

According to this suit's lore, Relly swims all the way to the deepest part of the ocean with only a narwhal. From the depiction of her and the fact that she apparently lost consciousness while at the bottom of the ocean, it seems pretty clear that Relly wasn't using proper PPE while swimming.

The most frustrating part about this suit is probably the fact that even the fish have PPE while Relly has nothing (though the efficacy of the snorkels is questionable). She should definitely have some air, and following the proper SCUBA diving procedures (1910.424) would be a great start.

Toy Carnival

What looks like an innocent, fun carnival game is actually an example of a potentially dangerous situation which requires a lot of work and planning. The crane machine is an example of a confined space, which is defined as a space that is large enough to do work, but has limited means for entry and exit, and isn't designed for continuous occupancy. Toy Carnival's crane machine appears to be a small space which doesn't have any immediately apparent way to get out.

There are no hazardous chemicals which would be present inside a claw machine. However, there is a physical hazard, which is the claw crane. Because of this, it is a permit-required confined space.

Toy Carnival is doing a lot of things right. She has an attendant outside (Momo), meaning she is compliant with 1910.146(d)(6). As long as Toy Carnival has a permit and followed all of the necessary procedures, she would be OSHA compliant if not for one thing: There is no visible sign designating the claw machine as a confined space. (1910.146(c)(2))

I will hold out hope that there is a sign on the back, because she was so close.

Explosion

We're going to ignore for the time being that Explosion takes place entirely inside a video game because well, it's all inside a video game one way or another, right? Anyways, you can tell a lot about Explosion just from the name.

Patrice is evidently in some kind of war-like environment. Not only are there guns and cannons going off everywhere, the "explosion" her suit is named for is the explosions of smoke grenades. She uses these to take cover and disguise herself.

While the gas mask is an excellent choice, unfortunately it's not enough. Due to the flying hazards (and probably the smoke too), Patrice needs to be wearing eye protection in order to be in compliance with 1910.133(a)(1), and head protection in order to be in compliance with 1910.135(a)(1).

Now onto another concern, no less pressing than the last: She's also apparently killing people. 1926.900 deals with explosives, and many of the standards mention avoiding the harm of other employees, which gives the impression that it generally isn't allowed. Not warning the others using warning signs, flags, or barricades before killing them with explosives is in direct violation of 1926.900(i).

I will commend Patrice on one thing, which is proper use of the buddy system as defined in 1910.120(a)(3) in the presence of unknown hazards. It sounds like she and Kuma work well together.

Honorable Mentions

Apocalyptic Angel, for her clothes and hair literally being on fire. I don’t know which OSHA violation that is, but it’s definitely something.

Crime Buster, for firing guns any which way without even looking. I don’t even want to touch that can of worms.

Space Fantasy, for not wearing gloves. In outer space.

Ingenious Trend, for allowing bats to carry needles. Again, not sure how that’s illegal, but it must be one way or another.

Appendix

1910.28(b)(3)(i) Each employee is protected from falling through any hole (including skylights) that is 4 feet (1.2 m) or more above a lower level by one or more of the following: 1910.28(b)(3)(i)(A) Covers; 1910.28(b)(3)(i)(B) Guardrail systems; 1910.28(b)(3)(i)(C) Travel restraint systems; or 1910.28(b)(3)(i)(D) Personal fall arrest systems.

(Glacier Treader)

1910.28(b)(15) Walking-working surfaces not otherwise addressed. Except as provided elsewhere in this section or by other subparts of this part, the employer must ensure each employee on a walkingworking surface 4 feet (1.2 m) or more above a lower level is protected from falling by: 1910.28(b)(15)(i) Guardrail systems; 1910.28(b)(15)(ii) Safety net systems; or 1910.28(b)(15)(iii) Personal fall protection systems, such as personal fall arrest, travel restraint, or positioning systems.

(Horn of Surprise)

1910.132(a) Protective equipment, including personal protective equipment for eyes, face, head, and extremities, protective clothing, respiratory devices, and protective shields and barriers, shall be provided, used, and maintained in a sanitary and reliable condition wherever it is necessary by reason of hazards of processes or environment, chemical hazards, radiological hazards, or mechanical irritants encountered in a manner capable of causing injury or impairment in the function of any part of the body through absorption, inhalation or physical contact.

(Heavy Machinery)

1910.133(a)(1) The employer shall ensure that each affected employee uses appropriate eye or face protection when exposed to eye or face hazards from flying particles, molten metal, liquid chemicals, acids or caustic liquids, chemical gases or vapors, or potentially injurious light radiation.

(Heavy Machinery, Explosion)

1910.135(a)(1) The employer shall ensure that each affected employee wears a protective helmet when working in areas where there is a potential for injury to the head from falling objects.

(Explosion)

1910.146(c)(2) If the workplace contains permit spaces, the employer shall inform exposed employees, by posting danger signs or by any other equally effective means, of the existence and location of and the danger posed by the permit spaces. NOTE: A sign reading DANGER -- PERMIT-REQUIRED CONFINED SPACE, DO NOT ENTER or using other similar language would satisfy the requirement for a sign.

(Toy Carnival)

1910.146(d)(6) Provide at least one attendant outside the permit space into which entry is authorized for the duration of entry operations;

(Toy Carnival - compliant)

1926.900(i) Employees authorized to prepare explosive charges or conduct blasting operations shall use every reasonable precaution including, but not limited to, visual and audible warning signals, flags, or barricades, to ensure employee safety.

(Explosion)

#love nikki #love nikki lore #love nikki suits #lowkey shitpost #lnduq

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