#the utility closet would like you to know that it's an innocent in all this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thefloorisbalaclava · 1 year

Text

like a bad habit

▸pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader

▸words: 4,906

▸warnings/rating: EXPLICIT - some angst, arguing, lots of fucking, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, power imbalance, power play, size kink, facials, oral sex (m and f receiving), woman on top, wall sex, frottage, panty kink

▸summary: after you and ghost sleep together, things go wrong.

▸a/n: these idiots are either fighting or fucking. it's all the same, i guess. enjoy.

⮞[part I]

👻[simon 'ghost' riley masterlist]

Ghost could not get enough of her. He was surprised they hadn’t been caught yet. The lingering glances, the ridiculously loud and intense sex they had—it’s a wonder no one was coming to knock on his door to ask what the hell was going on.

Even now, as he had her pinned against the wall with his hips grinding up into her, he had wondered how they had been so lucky not to get caught. Of course, he had picked a utility closet that people rarely went into, but he purposely left the door cracked open. He got off to the thrill of getting caught, and it seemed she did as well.

“Simon…fuck yes!” she whimpered. “Harder.”

He grunted and angled his hips differently as he pistoned up into her. He kept his eyes on her as her eyes rolled back, and she came around him again.

“Another?” he asked, and she tried to say something, but it was all gibberish. “You take me better each time we do this.”

She looked at him then and smiled before biting her lip. “Cum inside me. Fill me. I wanna feel you dripping out of me all day.”

“Fuck, that mouth of yours is gonna be the death of me….” He stopped thrusting, and she pouted. “On your knees, love.”

She got on her knees slowly and looked up at him. He stroked himself a few times, then stopped.

“Spit for me.” She spat on his cock, and he spread it around, stroking himself right over her face. She opened her mouth, and he groaned, then gritted his teeth.

“Jesus fuck!” He grunted, slapping his hand against the wall as he began to cum. He made an absolute mess of her, some even landing in her mouth. Seeing it on her face and mouth made his knees weaker than they already were.

“Swallow that for me, hm?” he told her, and she made sure to exaggerate for him, showing him her tongue after. He stuck his thumb in her mouth and let her suck on it for a while before hooking it against her cheek and pulling up so she would stand.

“Let me clean you up, soldier.” He pulled out a handkerchief, which he now always kept on him just for moments like this, and cleaned your face.

“Thank you, sir,” she said innocently.

“If you don’t stop, I'm liable to bend you over here and now,” he threatened, moving closer.

“Do you ever get…worn out?” she asked, laughing.

He smirked. “Not while I’m with you.” He kissed her, and she melted against him. “We’d better get out of here.”

“Do we have to?” she whined.

“Unfortunately, yes.” He pulled up his pants and righted himself as she did the same. “See you later?” he asked.

“Of course.” She turned to open the door slowly and quietly, then peeked out. “Bye, Simon,” she whispered before walking out of the closet with a little bounce that made him smile.

“What’s got you smilin’ like that, numpty?” Soap asked as you stared at nothing, daydreaming.

“Hm?” You looked at him and blinked a few times.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” he asked, leaning in close to you.

“N-No. What do you mean?”

“Hm…” He backed away and looked at you suspiciously.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said.

“Ah, got it. You’ve got a new boyfriend,” he said, but you shook your head. “Girlfriend?” Another no. “Partner?” You could tell he was getting annoyed.

“None of your business,” you told him.

“I always make it my business. I’ll get it out of you one way or another,” he said.

“We’ll see about that.”

“What if he finds out?” you asked Ghost, who was frustratingly calm about this.

“I don’t know,” he said, and you rolled your eyes.

“You could get in trouble. I could get in trouble!”

“I doubt Johnny would go around telling people if he found out.”

You sat beside him on the bed and sighed. “I’m scared,” you confessed, playing with your fingers.

“Of?” he wondered.

“I just don’t want you to get in trouble over…me….” You shrugged. “I’m not worth the trouble.”

“Don’t say that,” he snapped. “Don’t talk that way about yourself.”

You looked at him. “I don’t know how else to feel.”

“You know I’ll protect you, right? I’d never let anything happen to you,” he said.

“It’s not me I’m worried about, Simon,” you told him. You looked into his eyes and immediately felt calmer, then reached up and cupped his hidden cheek.

“You’re a protector. I know. But…how do I protect you?”

“I don’t need protectin’, love.”

“You don’t always have to act so tough around me, you know? It’s okay to feel…different emotions,” you said.

Then immediately wished you hadn’t.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His entire body tensed, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Nothing. I just…I didn’t mean—”

“If you didn’t mean it, you wouldn’t have said it,” he snapped.

“Simon…”

“Why do people think I don’t feel things?” he asked.

“Well, you’re not the most…open person.”

“I am. I’m open with you,” he reminded you.

“Simon…there is so much I don’t know about you. And, I don’t know, you could be keeping things from me….”

“You sayin’ I’d lie to you?” he asked, standing suddenly.

“You’re twisting my words.” You stood with him, determined to stand your ground. “But I know no matter what I say, you’ll find a way to take offense. I think you like to be angry because it hides everything else you may feel—sadness, pain, fear, and love! You’re a mystery, Simon Riley.”

“When did you become a fuckin’ shrink?” he asked, and you laughed bitterly.

“I wish I were one so I could get into that head of yours.” You shook your head. “Your face isn’t the only thing you’re hiding from the world…from me.”

“That bother you?”

“Actually, it does,” you confessed.

“Then maybe you don’t understand me as much as I thought you did,” he said, and you glared at him.

“Pushing people away is a defense mechanism….”

“Stop with the getting into my head shit. It’s not working,” he growled.

“Obviously,” you mumbled.

“Go,” he said suddenly.

“What?”

“You heard me. Get out.” He was so calm while saying it that you were sure he couldn’t be serious.

“You’re kidding.”

“If I wanted to be analyzed, I’d have done it long ago. I don’t need this from you or anyone else.” He walked toward you so you would be forced backward toward the door.

“What did you need from me, Simon? Hm?”

“Who knows? Maybe I already got it,” he blurted, and you furrowed your brow.

“Fuck you.” You were happy that the words came out before your voice broke. You stormed out, not understanding what just happened but understanding it perfectly simultaneously.

It wasn’t like he could talk to anyone about what just happened because no one fucking knew. He was so close to running after her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that, so he let her go.

He knew how badly he had hurt her just by the look on her face.

Why did he say that?

He had never been one of those men who slept with someone and left them. He would never use someone just for that, but he let her leave the room believing it.

So, what now? How would he fix this without help?

If he had kept his fucking mouth shut, he wouldn’t be in this situation.

It had been weeks—weeks of her avoiding him, ignoring him, and making him feel like he didn’t exist. Most of the time, he welcomed the feeling of being unseen, a Ghost to the world, but in this case, he wanted to be seen by her and her alone.

“Hey, Lt.!” Soap shouted, running to catch up with him. “You wanna tell me what the fuck is going on?” he asked.

“What?” Ghost continued walking.

“Why are you sending the lass away again?”

Johnny's question stopped him in his tracks.

“Wait, what?”

“I just heard that she’s being sent to another base. You can’t keep doing that to her,” Soap barked.

“I didn’t,” he told Soap. “Did anyone say where she was going?”

“Wait, you aren’t responsible for this?”

“As shocking as it may be, I am not responsible for this. Have you seen her at all?” Ghost asked.

“Last I saw, she was heading to her room. I hope she’s okay.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you later.” Ghost walked away and made a beeline for her room. He had to figure out what the hell was going on.

The knock on your door was unexpected. Typically, you don’t answer your door without checking who it is, but you were so distracted with packing that you walked to the door and pulled it open without so much as a ‘who’s there’.

Once you saw who it was, you began shaking your head. “No. I have nothing to say to you. Please go.”

“What’re you packing for?” he asked.

“I decided I needed a change of scenery,” you said without looking at him. You kept walking past him as you grabbed more of your things until he finally grabbed your arm gently.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why do you care?” You snatched your arm away from him and kept moving. “You already got what you want from me, right?”

“You know I didn’t mean that,” he told you. “I-I was angry. I just said whatever came to mind….”

“It doesn’t matter. The captain already signed off on it, so…I’m leaving.”

“I’m going with you then,” he said plainly.

“No, you’re not.” You sat down beside your packed bag on the bed.

“I can do what the hell I want, love.”

“Don’t call me love.” You sniffled and looked away. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to be told you were only being used for one thing?”

“I was a fucking idiot, and I’m sorry.” He knelt before you, and you almost gasped at the action. “Look at me, love. And, no, I will not stop calling you that.”

“Simon…”

“I didn’t mean what I said. I swear to you. I’m asking for your forgiveness,” he said.

“Simon, get off the floor.”

“Not until you say you forgive me or not.” He looked into your eyes.

“I don’t know what to say. I’ve had my heart broken already. Tell me now—do you only want us to be fuck buddies?”

“I—”

“Because I need to know before I let my feelings get the best of me,” you told him.

“What we’re doing is dangerous,” he started, “But I’m willing to risk it all for you.”

“I don’t want you risking anything for me, Simon.” You shook your head. “And you really shouldn’t come with me. It looks suspicious.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, and you nodded. “Can I at least come to visit?”

“You can do whatever the hell you want, remember?” You smiled lightly.

“Is that a smile for me?”

You shrugged. “Maybe. Now, will you please stand?”

“I kind of like kneeling for you,” he simpered, and you rolled your eyes.

“That’s not working tonight. Sorry.”

He sighed loudly and stood. “I guess I deserve that.”

“Yeah, you do. Don’t you ever say anything like that to me again,” you told him.

“I have a temper,” he started.

“Yeah? No shit.”

He silently watched you pack some more. “I don’t like this.”

“Simon, just let it happen. It might be good if we just…give each other a little time anyway.”

He furrowed his brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying that maybe this is good—slowing things down a little,” you said, afraid to look him in the eye.

“I see. Are you regretting…this?” He pointed at you, then himself.

“I don’t regret a thing,” you reassured him, but obviously, we don’t know each other very well, and maybe we should have taken more time to do that.”

“You know me….”

“I don’t, Simon. You nearly bit my head off over something I said…something I didn’t know would upset you. I don’t know you,” you repeated.

“Can we stop talking about it?” he asked, exasperated.

“No, we can’t. You hurt me,” you told him.

“With words?”

“Yes, with words, Simon. Just because you don’t think something will hurt someone doesn’t mean it won’t.” You closed your eyes and sighed. “I need to finish packing.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know?”

“I think I do. Look, I don’t want you to think this means that I don’t care about you because I do. I just have to do what’s best for me right now. I have to figure things out,” you said.

“And the only way to do that is getting away from me?” he asked.

“Don’t…”

“I’ll admit, I’m not good at this whole thing. I’m not a bleedin’ romantic, I don’t write love letters or try to sweep you off your feet, but I am not the monster everyone thinks I am.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster. I never have.”

“I care about you in ways I have no idea how to show.” He stopped talking and just looked at you.

“I know you’re a good person even if you don’t think you are. I won’t say anything else, but just know that you have never been a monster to me.” You put your hand over his heart. “Because of this.”

He put his hand over yours. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”

“Of course. I’m looking forward to that visit,” you said with a smile.

ONE MONTH LATER

He couldn’t believe how much he missed her. He honestly didn’t think it was possible to miss someone so much. His heart nearly beat out of his chest as he and Soap approached the base she had been stationed at.

“Maybe she’s found herself a boyfriend,” Soap teased, and Simon’s nostrils flared beneath his balaclava.

“Maybe,” he said. And maybe I’ll break his fucking neck…he thought. That wasn’t fair, and he knew it; she didn’t belong to him, but he felt protective of her and selfishly wanted her all to himself.

He got out of the jeep, scanning his surroundings—a habit. The man who greeted them was boring, and Ghost tuned him out until he spoke your name.

“You guys all worked at the same base together, right?” he asked, and Ghost nodded once while Soap answered excitedly. “I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. Ah, there she is.”

Ghost turned to where the man was pointing, and there she was, talking animatedly with someone. She laughed and touched the man’s arm, and Ghost felt himself getting tense. She only turned to them when she heard their footsteps.

“Johnny?!” she exclaimed and ran into his arms.

That kind of hurt. There was no such excitement for him.

“Hey, Ghost,” she said with an awkward wave, then cleared her throat.

“Soldier,” he said with a nod.

The dull man finally left him alone, but he only felt awkward. He turned to the man she had been talking to and looked him up and down.

“Oh! Forgive me for being rude. Simon, Johnny, this is Lieutenant Martinez.” She put a hand on this man’s back, and Ghost bristled again. Johnny got along with just about anyone, but Ghost was different; he had to build a rapport and learn to trust.

He truly just wanted her alone right now. He wanted, no, needed to talk to her. He needed to be her center of attention.

How fucking selfish is that, mate? He thought. She looked at him as though she could read his mind.

“Simon, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” She turned and started walking with Ghost following closely and silently behind. It wasn’t long before he was walking beside her.

“How’ve you been?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” she said, then looked at him, “How are you? Truly?”

“I missed the fuck out of you,” he said quietly. “What’s up with you and that Martinez guy?”

“Nothing. He’s just…wait…” She stopped walking. “Why?”

“No reason. A man can wonder, can’t he?” He avoided her gaze.

“You’re not jealous, are you?” She asked playfully, and he rolled his eyes.

“Jealous of that man? Not in the slightest,” he lied, wanting to wrap his arms around her and kiss her right there and then to stake his claim.

She laughed and reminded him just how much he missed that sound. “I’ve missed you, Simon.”

“Have you?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you’ve had no one to…entertain you?” he asked, and she snorted.

“Entertain me, hm? It depends on what you mean by entertain,” she joked.

“You know what I bloody well mean,” he snapped.

“No, Simon, I haven’t been fucking anyone. Is that what you wanna hear?” she snapped back.

“Good lord, woman….” He looked around to make sure no one had heard.

“Have you found any entertainment?” She used air quotes.

“What do you think?”

“You just got here, and you’re already driving me crazy,” she said.

He moved closer. “Yeah? Well, good.”

“Insufferable,” she mumbled before walking away while shaking her head.

Was he really asking you that right after touching down? He saw you laughing and talking with Martinez, which put him on high alert that easily. Part of you wanted to tease him a bit, but you changed your mind.

“You think I’m insufferable?” he asked, catching up to you again.

“When you’re like this…yes!” You took him by surprise. Perhaps he had forgotten that you weren’t afraid of him. “Let’s go…sir.”

“Would you slow down?” he huffed.

“Why?” you asked. Then when you both rounded a corner, he grabbed you by the hand and put it behind your back, gently pressing you into the wall.

“Because I said so…” he breathed in your ear. “Because I want to get a good look at you. It’s been too long.” He smirked under his mask when he felt you push back against him.

“Simon, we’re gonna get caught,” you said, but there wasn’t a hint of worry in your tone. “You can’t possibly fuck me right here.”

“Oh? Can’t I?”

Your knees buckled slightly, and he let go of your wrist so you could turn around. You looked up at him, his eyes nearly black.

“That wasn’t fair,” you whined.

“You loved it,” he quipped, and you shrugged. He knew by now that you had a thing for his size and power over you.

“When are you gonna let me kiss you, love?” He had you caged in again.

“Do you think you deserve to kiss me right now?” you teased.

“You think it’s safe teasin’ me?”

“Probably not, but you can’t make me stop…sir.”

“Stop, soldier. That’s an order,” he said, leaning in even closer.

“Make me,” you whispered before ducking beneath his arms and escaping.

“When can I see you?” he asked as you walked away.

“Room 415. An hour,” you called over your shoulder.

Simon had to slow himself down as he made his way to her room. His dick was leading him, if he was being honest.

He slowed his breathing and cleared his throat before knocking on her door. She answered without asking who it was.

“Lieutenant…” She held the door open to let him inside.

“How’d you know it was me? I could’ve been anyone,” he said.

“How many people do you think I invite back to my room, Simon? Jesus…”

He shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Show me. Kiss me,” she said, giving him that innocent look that had something hidden behind it.

He sat on the side of the bed with a manspread that he knew would catch her eye. “Come and sit on my lap, soldier.”

She walked over slowly. He watched how her hips swayed, and he couldn’t wait to see her bare skin again.

She climbed onto his lap, straddling him, then put her hands on his cheeks. He just looked at her, and she looked at him before pressing a kiss to his covered lips.

He growled, quickly pulled the mask over his lips and nose, and then crushed his lips to hers. She yelped in surprise but kissed him back with just as much urgency.

“I’m gonna ride the fuck outta you, Lieutenant,” she murmured.

“Oh yeah?” He slid his tongue into her mouth, and she sucked on it eagerly. When she pulled away, he watched the saliva stretch from her mouth to his.

“You dirty fucking thing.” He grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her hard, not caring that he needed to come up for air. She swirled her ass against him, and he pushed his hips up to meet the friction. They both looked down at where her covered pussy pressed against the bulge in his pants.

“Make yourself come, and then I’ll let you have it,” he teased.

As they dry-humped each other, he pictured the way her panties were probably clinging to her because of how wet she was. He wanted to taste it badly.

“Si-Simon…” She let out a few high-pitched moans then he felt her body tremble as she came.

“Look at you. Aren’t you a good girl for your Lieutenant?” he asked rhetorically. “Undress for me, hm?”

She stood on weak legs and undressed, saving her panties for last, but he stopped her as she hooked her fingers under the waistband.

“Come lie down.” He stood and tapped the bed, and she did as she was told. Fuck, she was so fucking good.

He crawled between he legs and kissed her thighs, biting down here and there. As he got closer to her pussy, he met her eye. Then he buried his face against her clothed pussy, breathing in deeply. He held her steady as he swirled his face against her, breathing her in before pressing his wet tongue against her panties. He pulled away and then spat, getting them even wetter.

He found her clit easily, even hidden by her panties, and pushed his tongue against it. Suddenly, he pulled on her panties, ensuring the crotch rested between her pussy lips. He licked again, then began moving the material up and down and side to side against her. It gave her enough friction to get her going but not enough to get her off.

He enjoyed hearing her whimper and watching her squirm, but he needed to taste her. He pulled her panties to the side slowly; it was almost like opening a present he had been waiting for too long. She was glistening for him, and his mouth watered. He spread her lips and zeroed in on her clit—licking then sucking it into his mouth.

God, he missed her taste. He closed his eyes in pleasure, drinking her in. Pushing her legs back to get better access, he began tasting her earnestly. She held her legs open and back for him, looking down at him as he sucked on her clit and pulled away slowly before releasing it.

“This fucking pussy…” he murmured before licking again. “Is addictive.” He was going to cum in his pants, which was not what he wanted. He wanted to save it for inside of you—to mark you as his on the inside.

He pulled away from her pussy reluctantly, standing quickly and undressing. She made him feel unbelievably confident with how she looked at him—scars and all. He was about to climb on top, but she stopped him with her foot.

“Remember what I said, Lieutenant?”

“Oh…right.” He stroked himself as he lay on his back. He felt vulnerable and unguarded this way, but he was willing to handle any and all of it just for her.

She straddled him again, and he noticed her panties were still on. Why was that so fucking hot? He didn’t know or care, he just wanted her—to feel her. She lifted herself just a bit and pulled her panties aside before grabbing his cock and sliding herself onto him.

“Oh, fuck! You’re stretching me so much!” she whimpered. “I fucking love it.” She leaned down to kiss him, then sat up again, putting her hands on his chest for balance. Then she was bouncing on him nice and slow at first. He kept his hands on her hips as his eyes rolled back.

“Fucking…pussy…fuck…tight…give…me.” It was all he could say.

She looked like a fucking goddess bouncing on him. She moved her hands to his, where they dug into her thighs. She held his hands as she rode him now. There was something about that that made everything so much more intimate. And he actually liked it.

“You’re gonna make me cum all over your cock, Lieutenant,” she moaned.

“Mm mm…my name,” he grunted. “Say my fucking name, love.” He grabbed her arm and tugged her down to him. Her forehead rested against his. He met her thrust for thrust, and she began to fall apart on top of him.

“Keep your eyes open for me. Look right at me, sweetheart. I’m right here.” He kissed her deeply then her mouth fell open against his as she hit her peak again.

“I…I…I…fuck, Simon. Yes, yes, yes, Simon. Please!” she cried.

“Look at you go. Cummin’ all over your Lieutenant’s cock. Feels good, don’t it?”

“Mmmmm.” She couldn’t speak—going completely cockdumb on top of him.

“You gonna let your Lieutenant cum in that pretty pussy, hm? Gonna let me fill it up?” He flipped her over in one swift motion, not even faltering in his thrusts.

“Yes!” she screamed.

“I know you’re gonna let me, know why? Because you are mine. I’m your superior, and you love it. You love when I tell you what to do, don’t you? Yeah, you fucking do.”

“Simon…do it. Please,” she begged. “Please, sir.”

“Oh FUCK!” he shouted. He grunted louder and louder as his thrusts slowed but got harder. “Ahhhhh!” he groaned as he began filling you, nearly whimpering as he noticed that you were spreading your pussy lips for him. He pulled out slightly early, ensuring some of his cum got on your pussy as the rest dripped out of you. He made sure your clit was covered in his cum, then slapped the head of his dick against it, making an obscene sound.

“Fuck,” you whimpered breathlessly.

“Made a mess of you again, love.” He collapsed on top of you, summoning enough strength to kiss you, gathering extra saliva in his mouth to share with you. He slipped his softening cock back inside you, keeping it warm.

You woke up a few hours later, still covered in a heavy warmth you wished could last forever. You felt sticky but in a pleasant way. When you shifted, he immediately woke up and blinked down at you.

“Shit…sorry,” he said, voice still full of sleep. He rolled off you and then turned his head to look at you.

“Didn’t know you were such an intense dirty talker,” you joked.

“Have you heard me fucking talk? Nothing clean about what comes outta my mouth.” He gave her one more kiss before pulling his mask back down.

You were going to ask if he wanted to shower with you, but that would involve him removing the balaclava entirely, and you weren’t sure he was ready for that.

“Come with me,” he said quietly as he rolled out of bed and walked to the bathroom. You followed him, and he was turning on the shower.

“Simon, you don’t….”

“Close your eyes,” he commanded, and you quickly did. You could hear him moving then you felt his hands in yours as he helped you step into the shower.

“You first.” He began washing you, cleaning every inch of you thoroughly.

“Will you help me with my back?” he asked, and you nodded, reaching out blindly. “You can…open your eyes,” he said in a quiet voice you had never heard him use before. You were nervous. Why were you nervous?

You opened your eyes slowly to see the expanse of his wide back and broad shoulders. His back was covered with a tattoo, and you remembered imagining him having a tattoo there. You slowly let your eyes travel up to his neck and the back of his head.

Blond. That made you smile. You weren’t surprised on account of his eyelashes and eyebrows.

You reached for the body wash and rubbed it into his back. It was pure muscle and sinew that rippled beneath your fingers. You looked down, taking in his shapely bottom and thick, muscled thighs.

You took a deep breath and took a chance to move your hands to the front of his body, feeling his stomach beneath your hands. Somehow, it was softer than the rest of him, which made you all the more attracted to him.

He placed his hands over yours, and you thought he would move them away, but he just kept them there, moving his thumb soothingly over your fingers.

“Thank you,” he whispered. You rested your head against his back, hearing his heartbeat through it—it was pounding.

“Do you want to get out?” you asked.

“Just a little longer. That all right?” he asked.

“Of course, Simon. It’s perfectly fine.”

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare ii #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

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littlemisskookie · 1 year

Text

Free Use: Ch 8

Free Use: Index

Ship: Crush!Taehyung | Reader | feat. Jungkook

Description: Childhood Friends/Crush/Neighbors/College!AU. Your long time crush agrees to be your dom.

Warnings: Free Use Kink, Dom/Sub Relationship, Dom Taehyung, Dom Jungkook, Voyeurism/Exhibitionism, Degrading, Dirty Talk, Objectification, Fingering, Ruined Orgasm, Forced Orgasm, Multiple Orgasms, Pain Kink, Spanking, Slapping, Choking, Cuckholding? Jungkook is very mean and a brat tamer, Y/N gets railed in a janitors closet, i wouldn’t be surprised if i’m forgetting something, this is really vile i’m sorry i’m depraved, ITS ALL CONSENSUAL THO THIS IS HER DREAM AND MINE TOO

Word Count: 4,188

A/N: I think you can tell how horny I was making this.

Surprisingly, Jungkook acts completely normal around you at school, even after he listened to you get railed and witnessed your expressions to your anal virginity being taken. He was so cavalier about it, you wondered for a moment if you had simply had some perverted dream instead. His bunny grin still seems so innocent, doe eyes so pretty. Nothing like the man who degraded you for the obscene acts you enjoyed with Taehyung. The more you'd stare at him absentmindedly, the more convinced you were that they couldn't have possibly been the same person. Jungkook, sweetheart muscle pig, himbo king, best friend of Taehyung?

You must've been too obvious with your gawking during class, however, because you feel someone's breath near your ear as you write. "Keep staring and soon everyone’s gonna know you’re desperate," Jungkook whispers, sending shivers down your spine. You stiffen, turning to look at him with widened eyes, before demurely looking back down at your desk. Jungkook looks amused, blowing cold air on your neck. Goosebumps appear along your skin, which Jungkook takes note of. “I wonder what they’d think if they knew you loved having Taehyung’s dick in your ass.”

You squirm, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to remain composed. Jungkook pushes back some of your hair to see your face, seeming delighted in your flushed complexion. “It’s alright. I can keep a secret.”

He smirks, straightening up to walk back to his seat.

You crossed your legs and tightened your grip on your pen, gnawing on your lip. Taehyung didn't have this class with the two of you. Would he be ok with Jungkook flirting with you without his presence?

You didn't have to worry for long, however, because you're greeted with a text from Taehyung to meet you in the Humanities section. You followed his directions only to end up in a near empty hallway, with nearly nothing around aside from the janitors closets and a few empty professor offices. You double check Taehyung's text before a hand is on your mouth. You're dragged into a tiny utilities closet, being knocked back into a hard chest. The mystery man turns you around, knocking your back against the door, hands grabbing your wrists and pinning you in place.

His mouth meets yours, tongue diving in and having it's way with you. Your eyes fly open, pulling back. "Taehyung?"

He flips the light-switch on beside him, and you're met with the sight of his handsome face in front of yours. "Got it right, baby."

He kisses you again, this time a peck as a reward."Who else would it be?" you question.

"Could've been Jungkook. He told me you were staring at him during Bioethics." Taehyung snickers at it, finding it humorous as he flicks your forehead.

"I'm sorry," you apologize.

"Why're you sorry? Makes sense for you to be staring at him considering what your last interaction was." He notices your shudder, though it didn't seem to be out of fear. "I trust you liked it?"

"I did, but I don't want you to feel jealous-"

"I think you do, though," Taehyung interrupts, closing the already small gap between you, crowding your space. "I still remember how wet you were when we finally fucked. I think you liked seeing me mad."

Your knees buckle, unable to escape as you were met with this confrontation. "Maybe."

"What do you like about it?" His fingertips lightly graze the exposed skin beneath the hem of your skirt, teasing you. His nose traces over the side of your neck, the touch featherlight."Like seeing me fuck my anger out on you? Claiming you as mine?"

"Y-Yeah..." you bashfully admit.

"No need to be ashamed, baby," Taehyung assures you. "I liked it too. I'll use any opportunity to prove you're mine and why. I'm your boyfriend now, right?"

You smile and nod, raising to your tip-toes to kiss him. "Yeah, you are."

"I know you're attracted to Jungkook. It's fine, baby, it doesn't matter. You know who owns you." Taehyung cradles your face in his large hands, his touch so soft and gentle. "Jungkook can fuck you good, I don't mind letting him. I know I can fuck you better."

"Is this leading up to something?"

"Jungkook's getting chewed out by his coach as we speak. He texted me about it. I figured I'd be a good friend and give him something to help with stress relief." One hand disappears, the other having a firm grip on your jaw, holding you in place to look up at him. "You're basically a toy anyways, aren't you?"

"Yes," you say breathily, "you own me."

"Wanna let Jungkook play with you then? I'll be right outside this door and let him take out his anger in fucking you. I know a slut like you'd always desperate for cock." His breath runs over your lips, and your knees buckle beneath you.

"Yes. Wanna please him."

"Mm, what a good toy." Taehyung grins down at you. "Should I text Jungkook to come here now then? Tell him to rail you as I keep watch?"

You nod, leaning your head against Taehyung's chest. He whips out his phone, letting you stare down at his screen as he sends the text. You don't fail to notice his lockscreen was now a picture of you from your Instagram. You smiled, a small wholesome moment before the most unsanctimonious sins would be performed, kept for yourself. You'd have to remember to have Taehyung and you take couple photos once you had time.

"Jungkook's gonna be real happy about his gift," Taehyung says, kissing you softly. "Just say the safeword if you need to and he'll stop. He'll take good care of you."

You wondered how he knew this about Jungkook, but then realized it was likely they had shared women before. Jungkook seemed all too keen on listening in on you, and Taehyung in turn letting him. Taehyung would now be hearing you fucking Jungkook. They seemed to just have that sort of relationship.

"Same for you," you remind him, Taehyung returning your soft smile.

"My girlfriend's so cute," he says, hand pulling at your skirt, bunching up the fabric to expose your pussy. "Jungkook's gonna have fun wrecking you. He's gonna end up addicted."

"Sir, touch me."

"Can't do, baby. Gotta have manners, let Jungkook have his turn. I'll have my turn with you after."

You hear a knock at the door, a unique pattern. Why did it not surprise you that Jungkook and Taehyung had a secret knock? What dorks.

Taehyung opens the door, the space becoming more crowded as Taehyung pulls you against him, your back against his chest. Jungkook stands in front of you, towering over you as you were trapped between them. He grins down at you, the same sadistic smile you were getting used to on Taehyung. It was like a lion that was about to play with its food. "This my gift?"

"Thought you might benefit from a stress toy or something," Taehyung shrugs nonchalantly. His hands rub your arms, keeping you secure. "You seem tense."

It was true. He seemed all puffed up, either with hot air, smoke from how he was fuming inside, or raw energy. It was a kin to a bull before it was released into the ring at a rodeo. "Yeah, I guess I should blow off some steam." His grip slides down to your throat, pulling you closer to him. "Want me to use you, Y/N?"

You nod, trying your best to keep your breathing steady and composed. "Yes, please, want it."

You feel a quick breeze and sting of pain on your cheek, another one quickly following your other cheek. You let out a moan, squirming between the two men as you reach out, grasping onto Jungkook's shirt as your knees buckle. He curses under his breath at your reaction, and soon you're feeling his erection on your hip. "Little painslut. Can't believe this shit turns you on."

Taehyung grins, reaching for the door knob. "I'm gonna go keep watch. Wouldn't want anyone finding you fucking my girlfriend."

He closes the door behind him, and you're left alone with your dear friend, Jungkook. At this moment though he seemed anything like the youngest you had grown up with. He has you step back until your back meets the wall next to the door, close enough for Taehyung to surely be able to hear every dirty word Jungkook called you. He immediately flips your skirt up, making you squeal in response. His hand immediately cups your bare pussy, finding his digits soaked to no one's surprise. "Shit. I swore once when you crossed your legs that I saw your pussy, but I thought I must've been seeing things. You're so gross, Y/N."

"Taehyung asked me not to-"

"Because you gave your underwear to him immediately? Offered him your pussy? Like some kind of street whore? It just screams you were desperate to be fucked." Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "God, why couldn't you pick me, huh? I knew you just as long as him. It's so unfair." He whines out the words, fingers thrusting into you, his movements rough and punishing. He finds your g-spot with ease, grinning wickedly as he sees you start to crumble.

"I'm sorry, it was always him," you gasp out, mewling when his thumb started stimulating your clit.

"Mhm, guess I should be happy we're so close then. Either way I'd fuck you. You would've been destined to be shared between me and Tae." He bit his lip, feeling your walls begin to squeeze around his digits, the loud sounds of your wet pussy filling the room. "I knew you'd be so wet for me. Always knew I'd get to fuck you one day. Something about you just screamed slut."

You try to reach down to his erection, only for him to force your head to straighten up again, grip squeezing slightly on your throat. His pace inside you stills as he forces you to make harsh eye contact with him. You reach up to his hand, nails dragging into his forearm as he glared at you. How had it never occurred to you before how hot Jungkook was when he was angry? "Did I say you could touch me? Thought you were supposed to be good. Are you only a good girl for Tae?"

"I'm already so close! This is supposed to be for you."

"I'm a big believer in ladies cum first," Jungkook says, curling his fingers again in reminder, keeping you at that edge. "It's our first time, after all. Don't want you getting a bad impression of me."

"Thought this was stress relief," you shot back.

Jungkook growls out, choking you in that way that made you feel light headed and curling his fingers inside you repeatedly, pounding at your g-spot as his palm ground against your clit. You gasped out, staring back at Jungkook, whose nostrils flared in anger. "You're lucky I like to break brats like you. Go on and cum, since you just want to hurry and get punished so badly. While I'm still feeling nice."

His tongue pokes at his cheek in concentration, and soon your spasming over his fingers. "Ju-" You somehow manage to moan out his name loudly enough for him to have to let go of your throat and cover your mouth. He stared at your expression, your eyes crossing as you orgasmed against his digits. He lets you ride out your high, your thighs glistening now from the mess he made of you. He pulls out his fingers, rubbing your folds, making you cringe in oversensitivity.

"Fucking slut, don't you know you have to be quiet?" Jungkook scolds you. "You want everyone to see you in here getting fucked, huh? Want them to see how wet you get just from being slapped around? Want them to see how wet you get for me?" You're given no time to defend yourself before he's pressing against you, mouth against yours. You realize this is the first time you've kissed Jungkook. His style of kissing you was different from Taehyung. Taehyung is all consuming, dominating you easily. Jungkook's is more coaxing, more soft and playful. It was like he was easing you into a false sense of security before he reminds you what he's about to do. You moan into the kiss, your hands pulling him in as he presses his body against yours. He lifts one of your legs, hooking near his waist to grind against you. You feel the fabric of his uniform slacks against your pussy, moaning into his mouth.

"Can't believe you're letting me treat you like some object," he mumbles against you. "Letting Taehyung pimp you out like this. You're such a whore."

You whimper as he quickly works to undo the buttons on your shirt, revealing your bra. He roughly pulls down the cups of your bra, teeth catching a nipple, giving you harsh treatment. You slap your own hand over your mouth, trying to keep your moans down as best you can. Jungkook lets go of you, showing a sadistic grin. "Stupid girl learned something for once, huh?"

You twist your face into a scowl, immediately wanting to bite back. "My grades-"

"Doesn't matter, you're still stupid." He turns you around, hand cracking down on your ass. You yelp immediately, unprepared, the moan no doubt escaping the thin walls of the janitor's closet. "See? What'd I just tell you? Stupid girl can't keep quiet even without a cock in her."

You keep down your whines as he continues spanking you, one hand lifting your skirt to let him see and the other punishing you with a force that made you jolt. "You're stupid because you just need a guy to tell you how dirty you are for your brain to become mush. You handed over your panties without even thinking. You kept this wet pussy from us for years when you could've been getting fucked the way you're supposed to. Aren't you such a stupid girl for that?"

He delivers a harsh slap right at your pussy, making you rise to your tip toes at the mix of pain and pleasure. "Say you're a stupid girl if you want me to fuck you."

"I'm a stupid girl," you blurt out immediately, earning a cocky grin from the handsome man. Your heart began racing as you look behind you to see him unbuckling his belt and pulling out a condom.

"Yeah?" His tone is so cocky. You hold your breath in anticipation when you feel his tip pressing against your entrance. Jungkook only teased you, however, arm reaching around you to tug you closer to him, his frame caging yours as his fingers danced down your abdomen. "Why's that, huh?"

"B-because I should've told you guys the truth earlier," you blabber, trying to move your hips back. Jungkook's fingers rubbed circular motions around your clit, making it impossible for you to stay still. Jungkook held you in place however, enjoying watching you squirm. "That I'm a slut."

Jungkook hummed, kissing your neck, fingers continuing to drive you crazy. He pushes his hips forward, trapping you snuggly against him as he plunges his dick inside. Both of you moan out at the feeling, your legs left quivering as you try to stabilize yourself. "Can't believe you kept this pussy from me," Jungkook gasps out, hips rutting against yours, his grasp on you tightening. "I should've been fucking this pussy ages ago, could've felt you creaming my cock, and would've if you hadn't kept it from me. Stupid, selfish little slut."

You moan from how much he filled you, aiming at that spot that had your toes curling. "I'm sorry!"

Jungkook yanks your hair back, making your back arch. "You haven't even begun to feel sorry yet," he growls, kissing you with a ferocity as he kept your head in place, grip firm in your hair. He was consuming all of your senses, the cramped space giving you nothing to give you get distance. You were reminded of when you danced with him at the club, the first time he even began to direct his behavior to you. "Take this cock you were so desperate for."

He lets go of you, hands securing on your hips to fuck you deeper, as though he were really using you as a toy to relieve stress. You moan out, eyes welling up with tears from feeling the tip touch your cervix. Jungkook notices, diving in to the hilt and slowly grinding his hips against yours, skin pressed together. His hand returned to your clit, making your muscles tense up from the simulation from both ends. "Can you handle it?" He breathes the words out, his fingers making it hard to focus.

"Yeah, use me. I can take it." You say the words with full confidence.

Jungkook lifts one of your legs up, rotating your hips as he spreads your legs apart, drawing his hips back to thrust as deeply into you as he can. You moan out from the feeling, arms scrambling onto the wall as you try to keep your balance. You mumble something under your breath, the words coming out louder than intended due to Jungkook's thrusts.

"What's that?" He asks, turning your head back to him. "I didn't hear you."

You bite your lip. "Said 'Surprised you didn't go for the ass.'"

"Don't have lube on me. I figured I'd use your ass next time we fuck." You clench down on him at his words, and he catches on. "You didn't really think this would be the only time we'd fuck, huh? Nah, pussy's too good. Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but this isn't going to be the last time I fuck you. You'd better get used to feeling this dick up in your guts." His smirk looks more like a sneer as he sees how his words affect you. "I'm so lucky you ended up being such a gross pervert."

"I-I'm not a perv," you insist.

"Yeah? Only a pervert would like this nasty shit. You get so wet just from us being mean to you. It's pathetic."

His wet mouth is sucking hickeys on your neck, his free hand coming down to toy with your clit. "I'm gonna cum," you groan out. The desperate sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the janitor's closet. You were sure Taehyung could hear every sordid sound, your own whines and moans included, from his position just outside the door.You feel his smile against your skin as he pushes you closer to the precipice.

You don't get the satisfying end of riding out your orgasm, however, as Jungkook immediately pulls out and away. Your back meets the door, hands held above your hand in a singular grip. His hand comes down on your spasming cunt, and you close your legs out of instinct. "Open your legs right fucking now." Your legs fly apart, another hit making you flinch in pain, legs twitching as Jungkook continued slapping your pussy. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and you were left trembling from the ruined orgasm.

He pulls you in, giving you some sweet kisses as you gathered your breath. "Do you want me to keep punishing you? Or are you ready to be rewarded?"

Your face is something akin to a pout. "Reward."

"Gonna be a good girl for me now?"

"Yes," you sniffle, pulling Jungkook back to you.

He steps between your legs, hoisting you up against the door and fucking you against the wall. In hindsight it probably wasn't the most inconspicuous idea, but it didn't seem like that was Jungkook's priority. His priority was absolutely destroying you, building your orgasm fast. His mouth pants against yours, swallowing your moans greedily. "Disgusting little brat, you like me pounding you like this?"

"Yes! Feels so good," you moan out, squealing as Jungkook carried out his mission of destroying you.

“Like having your precious Taehyung outside, listening to you getting fucked?” He snickers, the laugh dark and ominous. “Let him hear those slutty noises you’re making for me? How well you take my cock?”

“Jungkook-“

“Yeah, say my name. Let Tae know how much you like being used by his friends,” Jungkook says, words coming out in a snarl. “Say my name while I fuck you like a whore.”

“Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungko-ook!” Your moans are breathy, pleasure making your guts twist as your orgasm approached.

"Gonna let me use this pussy whenever I want, too? Offer me your holes whenever I want?"

"Yes, you can do whatever you want with me." You felt like you were going to burst any second. "I'll be good for you."

"Go on, cum on my dick again. Prove to me you're a good girl."

It hits you like a tidal wave, Jungkook's kiss devouring your whine as he continued to fuck you against the wall. He cums in the condom, hips staggering against you as he pins himself against you. Eventually he lets you down, leaving you light-headed. Jungkook kept you standing, your legs wobbly. His fingers comb through your hair, fingers massaging your scalp. "You were so good for me. I knew you would be. Just had to fuck the bratiness outta you."

He adjusts his clothes to look like he didn't just ruin you in a closet, and knocks the same pattern as before. Taehyung opens the door, giving Jungkook a knowing smile. "I'll keep watch now," Jungkook says, trading places with Taehyung. You're left alone with your boyfriend, who immediately pulls you into his arms, seeing how bad your legs were shaking.

"Jungkook fucked you really good, huh?" Taehyung chuckled, admiring what a mess you had become. Your hair looked closer to a bird's nest, and your clothes were all wrinkled and in disarray. Your thighs shone under the dim light of the closet and you legs were wobbling like a baby deer. Anyone who saw you right now would know you just had an intense round of rough sex.

You nod, low on energy. Still, you turned around and put your hands on the wall, presenting yourself to him. "Your turn."

"Mm, my baby still isn't satisfied, is that it?" Taehyung groans, squeezing his erection over his slacks. "Still need my cock? You can barely stand, y'sure you can take it?"

You nod adamantly. "Wanna be a good slut for you, sir. I'm always ready to take you."

"Jungkook really fucked the bratiness out of you, huh?" Taehyung finally starts to pull out his dick, and you feel the anticipation build. "You never run your mouth like that with me, baby. You really wanted to be used like a toy, huh?"

"Yes," You hiss out the word, feeling Taehyung thrust into you. "Wanna be useful."

"I'm sure Jungkook's so grateful you let him use your pussy to get off," Taehyung purrs, deep thrusts still managing to make you wince in overstimulation. You were already beginning to feel that delicious soreness you were starting to crave. "You're such a good slut for me."

His hand starts touching your clit, and you're left whimpering in his arms. "Please, sir, I can't-"

"You're supposed to be my girl, aren't you?" Taehyung's voice is as harsh as his touch as he grabs your face, forcing you to look his way. "So shut up and take it."

You nod fervently, kissing him as you let him guide you to the edge. Taehyung buries his face in the crook of your neck, sucking on whatever skin was exposed to him. It was like he was re-claiming you, reminding you who you really belonged to. As if you could forget. “Fuck, I don’t think I’m gonna last long. Feels like I was hard forever having to listen to Jungkook fuck you like a bitch in heat.”

“H-He was the bitch in heat.”

Taehyung laughs. “There’s the brat from earlier. I must be lucky you’re so obsessed with me. You’re my good girl.”

“Fuck, sir, please let me cum-“

“Gonna cum again, already? Fuck, you’re so greedy.” Taehyung’s teeth sink into the skin at the juncture of your neck, groaning as he bit you. “Cum for me. Cum on your favorite cock.”

Your orgasm washes over you in a tidal wave as you do exactly as you’re told, and it only takes a few more strokes before Taehyung is pulling out and cumming on your ass. You’re left panting and slumped over the wall, head dizzy and limbs worn out. Taehyung peppers soft kisses on your face and neck, giving you time to come back down to Earth. “You did so good for us, baby,” he praises. “You feeling tired?”

You nod dumbly, letting out soft sighs at the feeling of Taehyung lips. “Yes, sir.”

“Mm, we’ll take care of you.” Taehyung smooths your hair, looking at you with an admiring gaze. “Let’s get our girl taken care of, hm?”

#taehyung smut #taehyung #jungkook #jungkook smut #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #smut #bts smut #bts #bangtan #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #dom jungkook #dom taehyung

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susan-gampre · 6 months

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Forewarning: This is a very old ask of which I felt was a good way to reintroduce old characters, and fulfill a friends ask request which I had been sitting on much too long:

💚 - friendship ~

There are just so many possibilities for this one, alot of characters of mine have the potential to make decent friends on their own, but when applying it to this scenario of plotting I’ll go ahead and give you the ships I think would work out the best (based on personality traits I know of your characters in order of most likely to sortta likely ➡)

Verzatea(@whatadarkbitch ) / Ana-Juli( @anajuli-mirkstone )/ Haela Balcyan (@haela-balcyan )) + Korrinth (dark powerful babe squad)

Susan / Rickie (@rickiedevron )Camille (drop out student turned painter with magic as her median (@camille-craft)) + Kiro (Degens make the best of friends)

Araebe(@little-araebe (a mermaid))/ Rickie / Amian ( divinity inclined noble soldier turned wayward paladin (@amian-delvrox))/ Esme @esme-erynn ) + Soira (Free spirits with good vibes often attract one another)

Elebreth Baelfy ( a hirable guard for nobility, a fellow rendorei) + Anne

💙 - kinship ( blood or symbolic familial bond ) ~

To me, symbolic familia is so much deeper than blood relative, because not all blood relatives get along but chosen family is more special. But I do have some Sindorei who could be blood related to any of yours (Maybe even Anne?) especially since I haven’t expanded on their family history for this very reason:

Blood -

Possibility 1: Galiera Baelfy (@galiera-baelfy) is the daughter of a well-to-do though humble family, and is currently in school so that once deemed worthy, she might join the courts and become a lawmaker. Shes anything but humble, and quite frankly can come off as rude and uptight.

Possibility 2: Verzatea Duskflame is the daughter to a noble house of published authors (with writings revolving around the Dark arts, which she perfected and utilizes in her current position as Confessor in the House of the Nine (@the-house-of-the-nine)).

Possibility 3: Elebereth Baelfy lost her mother, father and siblings to illness when she was already an adult, while she studied the ways of the courts with her cousin Galiera. Once she lost them, she lost anything worth living for and dived into combat training to hone her body as a tool for preserving the life of those worthy (she’ll not protect a corrupt being, no matter how much they pay her).

Possibility 4: Haela Balcyan. More on that later, but the gist is her family of monster hunters more or less fell off the face of the map when confirmed deaths of the household heads rolled around the newspaper. Haela specifically endured a frightful change of lifestyle which to this day marred the girl she was once.

Symbolic -

This is an open opportunity, for any number of characters.

- Susan adopts lost souls left and right - Rickie considers all of her friends people she trusts and would lay her life down for

-Lysandra Vanburen ( @lysandra-vanburen)) is a closeted witch surviving midst the Drustvar witch trials

-Haela, despite being a monster herself, is a monster hunter and oft goes out on hunts. She will protect Innocents, even if it's a loathed act that they were in the way to begin with - Araebe considers anyone who cleans, protects or loves the ocean a member of her kin and she will give you goodies from the depths for honorable acts - Amian loves literally anyone and everyone, she shall protect you in the face of any adversary - Camille was disowned by her widowed father for dropping out of school and thus craves parental bonds. A few options, but we can discuss any other possibility! 🤷

💔 - past relationship ~

Again, this is an open opportunity. We just have to discuss who to consider for the roles and we can work of the rest of the details! The most likely candidates for the running and why:

Susan - Obviously, she's the most unlikely of them all to hold down a stable relationship. The first sign of serious vibes and she bolts, feigning that shes unprepared or doesn't love the person when in actuality she is notorious for sabotaging her happiness.

Lysandra Vanburen- She would have been a sordid partner of affairs, able to get away with such unladylike happenings in her youth for the sole fact of who her family is. Low caste or high, if they were good company and beautiful enough she may have dabbled in discreet relationships .. but it would all come to an end at a certain age when she started taking being a representative to the Vanburen name much more seriously.

Rickie - She's a drifter. Can't stay in one place long before feeling the literal call of the wild, she will always come back to town for a fling or a few months of playing house before deucing with her dogs to get back to traveling the world.

Araebe - She's not for the land, always feeling the ocean drag her back in. The open waters are her home and life, this she is rarely able to commit for the sake of her loved one.. for the ocean is her greatest love of all and she will not turn her back on it to live a fruitless life on land pretending to be human.

Haela - Monster hunters make for terrible dates, she would leave anyone on read at the chance of a monster in the area for her to flex her skills on. Plus she's kinda freaky as an individual, a psychopath in all respects.

💜 - hateship ( they hate each other but can’t stay away ) ~

Lysandra loathes the Horde. Her history in military has left her with scars and horror stories that haunt her to this day, things she vowed to spend a life time repaying the faction for. They are all a kill on sight for her. It is a possibility where anyone she ships with she constantly runs into and will happily engage in a fight with without hesitation. Or, if on neutral territory, she will harass and mean mug you to death.

Galiera can make shit hard to swallow, and will clash/argue with anyone who responds poorly to her often shitty attitude.

Susan and Rickie don't hate people easily, but crossing either one earns a lifetime of headaches from sly/aggressive quips from the Madam or straight up shitty remarks from Rickie when around them. But its also just as acceptable for them to become frenemies with anyone. 🤙

Amian is a devout woman of the Light. She will never quietly accept the atrocities of how people destroy their bodies to house dark magic. Demon hunters, warlocks, good elves and in general people of the dark arts are susceptible to her passive aggressiveness.

As for your add on question regarding --

💟 - friends with benefits ~

I’ll go ahead and give you (and anyone curious) a list of potential candidates who would be open to such tom foolery:

Rickie, Esme, Verzatea, Araebe, Camille, Haela. Everyone else is a possibility but there's too many variables that could ignite or snuff out such a potential friendship that itd require some forethought.

@unabashedrebel sorry this took literal years!🌻

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kammartinez · 11 months

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I work in a blue-chip gallery, and it’s not unusual that I’m asked if I grew up in Newport when I say that I’m from Rhode Island. It often feels like a loaded question, more social barometer than casual inquiry, and it’s clear that my response will either indicate our mutual class affiliation or amplify the differences that I already know exist between us. Sometimes I can see the flare of pleasure that people feel when they say “Newport,” the word conjuring, as it must, visions of sailboats and private beaches, country clubs and rocky cliffs thrashed by the waves of a restless Atlantic. I always sense that there’s a secret on the other side of the inquiry, but I guess I will never know exactly what it is; I grew up half an hour west of Bellevue Avenue in a modest split-level ranch that my father built. I’ve seen only small slices of those gated houses, the quick flashes of stone and shingle that are revealed through a break in the trees.

In high school I had a friend named Vanessa whose mother was a nurse at Newport Hospital. We would sometimes catch a ride with her and walk up and down Thames Street, where we shoplifted scented lotions from Crabtree & Evelyn and searched diners and parking lots for the town’s seemingly nonexistent boys. I don’t remember that we ever once considered spending an afternoon following Cliff Walk, the coastal path that wends its way past Newport’s eccentric archipelago of Gilded Age mansions. We liked looking at things we couldn’t afford, but only if we could fit them into our pockets, only if we could take them home with us to scrutinize within the privacy of our own bedrooms.

I briefly moved back to Rhode Island following the collapse of my first marriage. It was the summer before I turned twenty-seven, and I spent three months hiding away in my childhood bedroom, grief-damaged and humiliated by the task of trying to figure out who and how I was supposed to be. My husband and I had managed to stay married for only four years, the last of which I spent watching from the sidelines as he enjoyed an unexpectedly rapid and very public rise as an artist. His newly minted success introduced a host of newly minted problems, and I drifted through most of that winter and spring weeping in the utility closet at the boutique where I worked and asking him where I fit into his life so many times that I eventually didn’t fit into it at all. By that July, we were completely estranged. I was living with my parents when his art dealer sent me a copy of The Age of Innocence, Edith Wharton’s 1920 Pulitzer Prize–winning novel that lays bare the punitive cruelties of a leisure class as expert at collecting things as it was at discarding people. Partially set in the Gilded Age Newport where Wharton herself had summered from the late 1870s through the turn of the century, the book lifts a curtain’s edge on what once happened inside those hedgerow-protected compounds. I never asked the art dealer if he was suggesting that I was a May Welland or an Ellen Olenska, but maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe he was telling me that all bad marriages are exactly the same, that it makes no difference where you live or what you have, because even glamour cannot temper the pain of being left.

I fell in love with Wharton during those lonesome months; I found fragments of myself in The Custom of the Country’s Undine Spragg, in The House of Mirth’s Lily Bart, in Summer’s Charity Royall, each one of them unable to foresee that folly follows when we expect too much. It wasn’t until many years later that I learned that the author who wrote with such precision about what transpires inside the unhappiest of homes had herself lived in a succession of them. Raised by a rigid society mother who was by turns remote and overbearing, Edith Newbold Jones was twenty-three when she married Teddy Wharton. The union helped her escape the control of a family that found her literary aspirations inconveniently vulgar, but so ill-matched were Teddy and Edith that Henry James once said that the marriage was, in retrospect, “an almost—or rather an utterly—inconceivable thing.” The young Mrs. Wharton soon realized that her new husband was a professional vacationer plagued by alcoholism and manic depression, a man who found his equilibrium indulging in the communal “watering hole amusements” that she went on to pillory with brutal accuracy in her novels and short stories. It was at Land’s End, the couple’s cliffside Rhode Island home, that Edith understood that she’d consigned herself to a new kind of domestic subjugation: a sexually and intellectually dissatisfying quasi-union that withered incrementally under the pall of Newport’s convivial excesses. “There are certain things one must possess in order not to be awed by them,” she wrote in 1900’s “The Line of Least Resistance,” a story, set in Newport, about a dissatisfied wife and her rich but gormless husband. One is left to wonder whether the line refers to objects or to women.

***

Wharton’s writing frequently draws parallels between the claustrophobia of an overstuffed parlor and that of marital suffering, and it is often through a rejection of architectural convention that her heroines express their hunger for freedom. (Think of would-be divorcée Ellen Olenska setting up house in her bohemian West Twenty-Third Street apartment.) In the late 1890s, Wharton, fatigued by the disorganized ostentation that she felt was transforming Newport into a “Thermopylae of bad taste,” began examining the relationship between architecture and psychology, ultimately developing a philosophy that called for the union of symmetry, classical proportions, and elegant utility. She outlined this trifecta of principles in her 1897 book, The Decoration of Houses, and later realized them in the construction of the Mount, the Lenox, Massachusetts, compound she codesigned following the sale of Land’s End in 1901.

Lenox, which lies in the shadow of the Berkshire Mountains, had already established itself as a summer enclave for wealthy New Yorkers by the time the Whartons purchased their 113 acres of lakeside farmland, but for Wharton the area retained a vestige of “hideous, howling wilderness,” as one unnamed traveler had described it two centuries prior. The outskirts of the land were still populated, albeit sparsely, by insular pockets of the “Swamp Yankees”—local vernacular for New England mountain people—that haunt the pages of Summer and Ethan Frome.

Wharton found in the countryside a respite from New York’s surveillance, relief from Newport’s extravagance, the freedom to choose her own company, and material. It was on Hawthorne Street that Wharton’s friend Ethel Cram was fatally injured by a horse kick to the skull, an event that served as the impetus for her 1907 novel, The Fruit of the Tree. One can drive past the train station where Wharton received out-of-town visitors like Henry James and English novelist Howard Sturgis. The steep decline from the town square was the site of the deadly 1904 sledding accident that inspired Ethan Frome. Kate Spencer, an assistant librarian at the Lenox’s public library, was injured in the accident; visiting the library this past fall, I found myself imagining the hours Wharton must have spent quietly studying her young friend’s scarred face and limping gait, searching her for evidence of the distance between public and private pain.

“It was only at The Mount,” Wharton recalled in her 1934 memoir, A Backward Glance, “that I was really happy.” The two primary—and parallel—themes that run through its pages are the histories of her writing and of her homes, mutually informative and enmeshed passions that surface even in her earliest recollections. The Mount is presented as the site that allowed Wharton to consolidate her power as a novelist, a house on a hill from which she could regard, from a slight distance, the life she was born into yet was savagely critical of.

In 1980, nearly a half century after the memoir’s publication, a cache of three hundred letters written by Wharton to a protégé of Henry James’s named Morton Fullerton was brought to market by a Dutch bookseller. Dated between 1907 and 1915, the letters—long thought to have been destroyed—offer proof of an extramarital affair with Fullerton that began at the Mount when Wharton was forty-five. Though the painful longing and ecstatic satisfaction that ricochet through these private missives is predictably missing from the memoir, the experience clearly inflected her recollections of the house and shaped the novels she wrote there. “You told me once,” she wrote to Morton in 1908, “I should write better for this experience of loving.”

Regardless of the revelations borne out by the affair, it was only after discovering that Teddy had embezzled nearly fifty thousand dollars from her trust to fund a Boston apartment for his mistress and the pleasure of several chorus girls that Wharton brokered a deal for her escape. She let go of the Mount to let go of the marriage, leaving in 1911, after handing the deed to Teddy in exchange for her freedom. By the time her boat arrived in France, the house had been sold.

***

The Mount, a gleaming white H-shaped jewel dressed in candy-striped awnings and marble balustrades, is located two miles from Lenox, and accessed via a winding, wooded driveway. Incorporating elements of French, Italian, and English styles and built into the side of a large hill, the building is a master class in visual harmony. I visited this past fall with my second husband, my first time there since the eighties, and joined a late-afternoon tour group that convened under the golden light of a slowly dipping sun. Outside the house, our tour guide, a fifty-something woman with a no-nonsense bob, sensible shoes, and a large yellow service dog, pointed out Wharton’s devotion to symmetry, evident not only in the labyrinth of formal gardens that bloom in the summertime with phlox, lilies, hydrangea, and dahlias, but also on the building’s facade, which features a set of dummy windows that compensate for an architectural imbalance. I thought it an unusual gesture, though I soon realized it wasn’t so for Wharton; inside the house are false doors, decorative panels that feign access to nonexistent rooms, and strategically placed mirrors that offer the illusion of depth. I was reminded of Lily Bart’s fatal reliance on artifice and of my own desire, all those years ago, on reading the novel for the first time, to believe until the very end that she might actually survive in spite of it.

Our group of eight included two teenage boys, a woman nestling a small curly-headed poodle to her breast in a baby sling, an elderly couple, and a man who did not once remove a pair of wraparound sunglasses. We entered the house through a grotto-style front hall finished with stucco walls and a terra-cotta-tiled floor, and then went up a staircase to a vaulted-ceilinged gallery on the main floor, outfitted with a series of arched doors. From there the rooms unfold enfilade, redirecting traffic flow away from Edith’s private rooms, the places Henry James referred to as the Mount’s “penetralia.” In her lifetime, Wharton was frequently accused by both friends and critics of an impulse to reveal much about the lives of others while giving away very little about her own, and the latter is evident in the way she policed her personal spaces. “It shall be born in mind,” she once wrote, “that, while the main purpose of a door is to admit, its secondary purpose is to exclude.”

In Edith’s bedroom, the two young men in our tour group, who had at some point produced what looked like a photographer’s light meter, began running the device over the room’s bed, a vase of flowers, a mirror, an empty bureau, a disconnected telephone, and a small stack of books. I watched the lights on the device flicker anemically, emitting yellow and green flashes in short bursts that seemed to indicate nothing at all. “Is anyone here?” one of them asked. “Are you here?” They were not looking for Edith Wharton—just her ghost. “They shouldn’t do that!” I said to my husband, loud enough for everyone in the group to hear. “The House of Mirth was written in this room!” By this point my spoilers had begun to fatigue our guide, a nice woman whom I had unfortunately made an enemy of with my repeated interruptions and various usurpations, with my impulse to anticipate future turns in the tour’s script without concern for how it made either of us look. She didn’t seem to mind when my husband and I opted to linger in Wharton’s room so I could look out through the window at the forest and the lake, and no one said a word when we decided to break off from our group and head out on our own.

Walking the property’s grounds, I thought about what it means to be allowed entry into a stranger’s Eden, how impossible it is for the dead to protect themselves from the violence of our curiosity once we are allowed access to their private spaces. I thought of the hours I’d spent scouring passages from The Life Apart, the secret erotic diary the author kept for the duration of her affair with Morton Fullerton and the only place where the author was ever able to address her own carnal appetite. From the sentimental little hill of the family pet cemetery, I looked out to the mountains at the view that inspired Wharton to revisit a short story she’d written in French many years before. It was 1910, and the writer’s turbulent relationship with Fullerton had reached its inevitable conclusion. Provided with the distance to compare an unhappy marriage with the thrill of illicit erotic distraction, Wharton began to write Ethan Frome, coding herself as the title character, her husband as his infirm wife, and Fullerton as Mattie Silver, the servant with whom Ethan is in love. Wharton so often wrote about herself that we don’t need to pry to find all the things she never meant for us to see. There is a short passage in Ethan Frome that I return to, sometimes, when I feel my curiosity becoming caustic, when my fascination turns invasive, when I begin to run my ghost meter over someone’s life just because I can. “I had the feeling,” the narrator states, “that the deeper meaning of the story was in the gaps.”

#edith wharton #books #reading

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frizzle-tales · 4 months

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Jiyeon would’ve very much preferred to be at his office over spending the day with Namjoon, even if she would be surrounded by family who seemed to hate her guts, even when she didn’t do anything wrong.

Jiyeon was mopping the floor when Namjoon relayed Taehyung’s message and she paused to listen, not quite sure why he needed her dressed and ready but she didn’t question it. Jiyeon then glanced over at the clock, noting to herself that she should probably get ready soon so that she could be on time. Then Namjoon spoke again and made a remark about her clothes, and Jiyeon had to take a breath to not show her annoyance at the man and get into trouble, not now, when she seemingly was allowed to leave the house tonight.

She just wanted to be left alone for once but Namjoon kept on talking. “She’s lovely.” The best thing was short answers and not allowing him to get under her skin— because that is what he wanted. He wanted her to snap back or even explode at him, all so he could feign innocence and run to Taehyung as soon as he stepped into the home to report Jiyeon’s ‘bad behavior’ and stand there with a smirk as he berated her or worse.

She decided not to comment, but instead excused herself. “Sorry, I should get changed, but I will be back with you shortly, please excuse me.” She took the mop with her and put it back into the utilities closet before heading upstairs.

Jiyeon was ready— She had dressed up in one of the nicer dresses she had (however, felt unsure of her choice when Namjoon questioned if that was really the dress she chose to wear) she had even put up some light make up, and she found herself oddly… excited. About 15 minutes later the front door unlocked and the owner of the home stepped in.

Standing down the hall, she watched as Namjoon and Taehyung chatted. Jiyeon felt some weird butterflies swarm in her chest when he glanced over at her, in general, it seemed as if the visit at his grandmother’s did him well. There was something different about him. After the two friends caught up, Jiyeon bid Namjoon farewell before she joined Taehyung’s side.

“How was work?” Jiyeon asked as they drove off. “I hope it was less eventful for you today..” She cautiously smiled, hinting at a few days ago. Jiyeon glanced outside, before she turned to look at Taehyung again. “Where are we going…?” She asked.

Jiyeon stayed right by Taehyung’s side as they entered the establishment, and Jiyeon couldn’t help but whisper out a ‘wow’ as she looked around. “This place is gorgeous.” She commented, this must be the type of places he had grown accustomed to, Jiyeon didn’t know the extent of his wealth, but she knew that he must be swimming in a shit ton of money. Surely he must be a millionaire, or maybe a billionaire? Her mind then trailed elsewhere; did he take women to fancy restaurants often? Was there an overload of women throwing themselves at his feet, like Sohee did? Jiyeon put a stop at her thoughts as she found herself feel oddly… uneasy about the idea.

[🎙️]

“Welcome home.” Namjoon greeted his friend after the front door clicked shut.

While placing his brief case down on the table, Taehyung greeted him back, questioning his friend on how his darling prisoner behaved before his eyes travelled past his decade long friend, to the girl near the end of the hallway.

The politician followed his eyes for a brief moment before a grin tugged on his lips. “She’s been ready for you, waiting. Even 15 minutes early.” Namjoon dropped his voice down to a slightly quieter tone. “I think she’s rather excited for whatever you have planned tonight.”

Hearing those words brought a grin to Taehyung’s lips. His eyes dragged from the top of her head, down to the tips of her toes, taking in what he saw as her pure beauty. Classic, not distracting or fake.

She looked so radiant to him, so put together. Like she was trying — wanting — to look her best for him, to please him.

Ha, how could she try and say she wanted nothing to do with him, she didn’t want to be here with him, if this is how she acts?

Actions of course speak louder than words.

He’s molding her so perfectly.

“What are you standing so far away for? Aren’t you going to come greet me, or at least say goodbye to your guest?” Taehyung mocked, bringing attention to Jiyeon. He wanted her to come closer to him, and that’s just what she did.

He waited for her to inch closer, and when he deemed close enough, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other bringing his hand to tilt her chin. “I’ve heard you’ve been a good girl today.” He murmured before his lips found hers next, moving in a methodical rhythm both slow yet hungry, like the taste of her lips was something he’d been craving since the moment he left in the morning.

“This must be where I take my leave.” After watching the pair for a moment, Namjoon soon chimed in with a chuckle. He was bid a goodbye before the door closed behind him.

The couple left soon after he did, not wanting to waste another second at home.

“How was work?” The girl’s sweet voice cut through the silence in the car. “I hope it was less eventful for you today..”

Oddly, he found himself chuckling at her words. “It was fine, a good day.” He answered. “Much more peaceful.” He joined in on the now inside joke between them.

“Pierre Gagnaire à Séoul.” He answered her next question, naming the restaurant located in the heart of their city.

After he parked and the 2 got out of the car, his arm linked with hers, and he led her into the restaurant, where they were greeted by a hostess.

“7 p.m. reservation under Kim.” Taehyung spoke, his eyes glancing down at the woman at his side, admiring the way the lights seemed to glitter in her eyes.

“Of course. Right this way, sir.” The hostess smiled brightly, almost as if she was trying to catch the man’s attention even for a moment, but it didn’t appear to work.

Taehyung had to force back the smirk that wanted to tug on his lips at Jiyeon’s soft wow. She really was such an inexperienced little thing of his.

And he was the only reason she was getting to experience so much more.

“Here you are. Your server will be right with you.” The hostess set down 2 menu’s before gesturing towards their table; privately secluded from the rest of the establishment, seated right next to a giant window that overlooked the city.

Taehyung pulled out the chair for her before taking a seat himself. By then, the server arrived, pouring them each a glass of high end champagne before leaving them alone to look over menu’s.

“Have you ever been to a place like this before?” Taehyung mused, taking a sip of his drink.

He couldn’t tear his eyes off of her, too captivated by her own unique beauty.

“She is beautiful, oh, Tae, she is exactly what your father would’ve wanted for you. If he was still around, he would have been so proud of you for choosing her.”

His grandmother’s rung through his mind.

“So young and inexperience, ready for you to guide her on how she should be. Her beauty is just right, not underwhelming nor attention grabbing, she’s… just right.”

Jiyeon wasn’t stealing anyone’s attention. There wasn’t any prying or jealous eyes wanting to steal her away from him.

She was perfect for him. She was everything he knew he wanted in a partner.

Soon, the server came back, topping off their glasses with fresh champagne before taking their order, then soon leaving them alone once again.

“Tell me, sweetheart, I’ve been curious for quite some time.” Taehyung started. “What made you choose to major in journalism, of all things?”

#🎙anon #yandere taehyung #serial killer!taehyung

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kamreadsandrecs · 10 months

Text

***

#edith wharton #books #reading

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Note

lance training his stepsister for the olympics. he always had a thing for her, but seeing her in all those leotards and bending like that has made it impossible for him to not act

took this in a slightllllyyy different direction but it comes around, trust me. dubcon/softdark :)

Watching you train now, Lance was trying to remember how he ever thought you were just his dumb, annoying little step sister.

It was tense relationship growing up, not even really a competitive one since he refused to even hear about your achievements or skill. Once you were both adults and didn't need to share a house, he all but forgot you existed.

But now you were back, training with him (or more like, training near him since he was only coaching and you were competing) and all he could see was legs, legs, legs.

Well, that and your face. You had really come into your own, you looked like a woman now; but he could still see the innocent teenage girl you used to be, the one he wished he had appreciated when he had the chance.

"Sooo... how've you been?" he prompted, getting only a quick glance from you before you bent down to stretch your hamstrings. At least now he could shamelessly stare at your ass.

"Uh, you know, busy," you answered, seeming confused that he was making conversation at all. Notably, you didn't return the question; you were killing the conversation on purpose.

"Your plan is to ignore me, then?" he scoffed.

"Well, yeah," you frowned, standing up and crossing your arms, giving him a defiant look that he wanted to kiss right off of you. "I mean, what else am I supposed to do?"

"We should catch up! We're, you know... family!" he explained, and you rolled your eyes.

"I mean... I guess," you shrugged, "but like, barely. Our parents are fucking, I don't know what that has to do with us."

"I just think we can at least be friendly," he defended.

"Friendly?" you repeated, annoyance shifting to anger. "Lance, do you not remember any of the shit you pulled when we lived together? You hated me, and you made my life hell."

Lance quickly looked around the training floor, noticing a few other coaches and competitors staring back now, and he awkwardly ushered you away to somewhere more private where no one would overhear.

"What could possibly compel you to want to be friends now?" you finished, but as soon as you asked the question, you seemed to find the answer for yourself. "Oh, Jesus, you are fucking disgusting," you snarled, starting to push him away, but he grabbed you and pulled you back into a utility closet; only the thin light coming in through the cracks in the door illuminated your face now, but he could see how livid you were quite well anyways.

"I was a shit to you, I'm sorry," he sighed, "I know. But I never hated you. I just hated that you were the one thing I couldn't have."

"One thing? You're forgetting that I knew you then, Lance. You couldn't have a lot of things: dignity, intelligence, the respect of anyone with both halves of their brain working--"

Overwhelmed with long it was taking for him to get what he wanted (he wasn't used to waiting very long for anything, after all) he found himself pinning you back against the wall and kissing you roughly, ignoring your hands pushing on his chest. "God, you're such a bitch," he laughed breathlessly against your lips, "but I deserve it. I was so mean to you... it was only 'cause I loved you, little sis-- that's why you're so mean now, isn't it? You love me, too..."

"Get off--!" you hissed, quieted again when he slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you harder.

"Don't fight me, I know you want it," he cooed, grinning as he reached down to lift your legs and wrap them around his waist. "Been waiting too long to make up for how bad I was to you then... I'm gonna show you how much I've grown, I promise."

#tw stepcest #lance tucker x reader

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weirdthinkingdragon · 3 years

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Welcome To The Family (2/???)

Should tw be a thing for a bit of mind-control? Oh well, I'll put it as a warning here just to be safe.

Three weeks have passed. I've been informed by Eri that Shinsou has a mind control quirk. In all honesty? That doesn't change anything with the way I see him. He doesn't know I know his quirk. He doesn't need to since it wouldn't really change anything. He still seems rather untrusting of me though. I wish to change that, but how? More progress has been made with one of the adults, and he's around the least amount from working three jobs! Ugh, this is rather frustrating.

There is still plenty of time for that to change though. Remember Y/N, it's only been three weeks. At least the bond between Eri and I has grown substantially. We even already made our own little code thing by putting our right pointer finger on our nose, closing our left eye, and slightly poking out our tongues in a silly manner. It makes her giggle every time. We haven't shown that to the others yet. Not because there's anything wrong with it, it just never came up since I leave right after they come home. Shinsou almost saw it twice. No big deal if he does.

I even got to meet the two she thinks so highly of, and they're both adorable rays of sunshine themselves. They even brought dresses for an extra interesting tea party we had that day. The green one- the one whom of which I found out is named Deku, or Midoriya- is rather uncomfortable with wearing the dress, but seems to do it for Eri. The blond, Togata, has a short strapless pastel blue one that he doesn't seem to mind wearing in the slightest. He told me it's because he's rather used to suddenly being naked from his quirk. I can only wish to have that confidence. They told me more about their school, which honestly makes me wish to visit them and their friends someday. Sadly, that's not my place though.

Tonight is a night that I have to babysit them a bit longer, and have to put Eri to bed. Something about extra paperwork. I decided to be good for them and do some cleaning of their house. Nothing major, just the dishes that seem to of been sitting for a bit longer than they should have, and maybe even sweep the living room since there are a few visual piles of cat hair.

I start with sweeping the living room now while Eri watched more of her favorite show with her stuffed animals. It took a bit longer than it should have taken to find the broom in the utility closet. Oreo comes up to me and starts trying to swat at the broom, catching Eri's attention.

A smile starts to form on my face. Why not have a little fun with this? I start to drag the broom around, making him chase it. It doesn't take long for the other two on the cat tree to catch interest. I lean down and shake the broom side to side. Sundae jumps off from the highest point of the cat tree and lunges towards the brush of it, scaring Oreo in the process. Oreo jumps high in the air and angrily starts to bat at his brother.

Eri starts giggling and I get rather close to joining her. Mochi comes over from his box on the floor of the cat tree and starts to lazily bat at the broom as well. Oreo didn't seem to like that, so they jump onto Mochi. He wasn't being aggressive, just playful. I use the broom and gently sweep it on the two of them. They start trying to bite the bristles of it.

Their attention wasn't kept by the broom long though sadly. Sundae attacked Oreo, who was still focused on Mochi, then took off out of the room. Oreo then follows in hot pursuit. Mochi surprisingly trudges after the two of them. I laugh and shake my head while locking eyes with Eri. "They're sure lively today!" She giggles in reply.

There was a giant pile of fur after sweeping the living room. A ball of it big enough to barely fit in my palm. Nothing but a fluffy swirl of black, white, and orange. It's not in my palm though since there's most likely a bunch of other dirt too that wouldn't be pleasant to touch. I get it all in the dustpan and go to dump it in the garbage.

Eri is still rather interested in her show, so I decide to let her watch it a bit longer before cooking and having to put her to bed. Shinsou stayed at his school for a while longer today. My guess is he helps Aizawa or maybe even trains with him there since he doesn't seem like he'd have much time here.

I start doing the dishes, which doesn't take too long. A bit of green mold on one of the dishes makes me recoil in disgust a bit though. Okay, maybe they've been here a bit longer than I thought. Eri came into the kitchen half-way through me doing the dishes and sat on one of the chairs at the table to be by me. "Eri, you don't have to be in here you know. You can keep watching your show."

She shakes her head. "But I like being with you. I get so sad when you leave."

A quick twinge panged through my chest at that information. "Aw, I miss you when I leave too. Don't tell anyone, but you're my favorite to be around!" I inform and see her being really happy about that.

It's true though. She's been incredibly easy to take care of compared to so many others from before. Like the brother who kept ripping the heads off the dolls of his younger sister, or the one I kept having to keep a very sharp eye on to not find the hammer to test out how durable the windows of the house were. Or even the one who kept trying to put Play-Doh in their hair. Her past might have some to do with it. I focus my sudden new anger on thinking about the vile man to scrub the stained dishes more thoroughly.

It doesn't take too long to finish the dishes and start dinner. I decided to make dinner for the others too, even though it might be cold by the time they get to their home. Keeping it in the oven for a while might work. I get it ready and put it inside the oven. My stomach growls a bit at thinking about food. I don't feel right eating their food though, so I always bring snacks to eat while Eri eats what gets made. Luckily, she doesn't seem to be picky and sometimes asks for something that can be made. They told me anything for her is fine so that just makes it all the easier.

A familiar purple-haired teen enters the kitchen in the corner of my eye. "Ah, Shinsou! You're back! Your dads told me they wouldn't be back for a while. Hope you don't mind what I'm making for dinner. Eri said she wanted it."

He only replies with an uncaring shrug. He sets his backpack on the table and takes out homework to start on. Ah, homework. Don't miss it. Sadly though, even as an adult homework is still a thing, just in a different way. A part of me also likes to think he's only in here to watch me with Eri again. That's a very common thing I've noticed. He'll be around, but never want to join us. He'd probably hate me more if I told him, but I find him rather adorable in that aspect.

"Hey, Eri. Did you have fun again today?" I pretend not to see it, but that caring smile towards her didn't go past me, boy!

Eri goes over and hugs him. He hugs her back, and I'm pretty sure my heart melted a little again. I can get behind this being a common occurrence. I'm so happy to be the one gifted with taking care of these two children.

I must have lost track of time focusing on the two of them since the stove starts beeping, informing me the food is ready. I mumble out an "already?" and go over to the stove, taking it out. It gets placed on the stove to cool a bit as I grab hot pads, cups, silverware, and everything else needed for the table for the two of them.

Shinsou looks at me quizzically. Eri seems to notice his look too. "They never eat the food they make. Don't know why. It tastes so good!" His eyes narrow at me accusingly.

"I just don't feel comfortable eating your guys' food, you know? I usually just make Eri something and bring a few snacks with me to eat instead," I go off to think in space a little bit. "Okay, maybe that does seem rather suspicious now that I think about it."

"Suspicious?" Eri questions.

"Means like something is not right. Like if a person kept the following someone. A person watching the two would find that suspicious." She tilts her head, maybe more confused. "What does that do with food?" Oh, her dear innocence.

"Don't worry about it, Eri. It's nothing important right now. How about we just eat, and this time I guess I'll join you?" She looks down for a second at her empty plate, then back up at me. "Okay!"

I bring the food to the table and grab another plate, sitting down next to Eri despite Shinsou's glare at me again. Shinsou puts some on his plate. He only seemed keen on eating it after I took a few bites of it.

"Oh yeah, Shinsou?" He looks at me questioningly. "Could you wait here after dinner? I need to talk to you."

He replies with a nod and continues eating. Eri smiles at him. "See Toshi! It's so good!" He gives her a toothy smile. "Maybe even better than Hizashi's." Um... which one is that? I only finally memorized their last names!

Don't think he will tell me, so I decided to pretend to know which one it was. Either way is a 50-50 chance. Maybe I should ask Eri to remind me of which is which.

Eri nods. "Much better than the time daddy tried to make that gross stuff."

Shinsou gets an amused smirk. "You mean that homemade dish he burned beyond belief? heh, he wouldn't let it down for weeks."

I stay silent as I let the two of them talk. Hopefully, I'm not coming off as creepy just by still being here. I do wonder why they want me to stay with the two of them. Shinsou seems much more than capable of taking care of Eri himself. Even if he doesn't know how to cook, it could be learned.

"Y/N?" Eri's voice saying my name snaps me out of the thought of Shinsou cooking and struggling by burning it. "Yes, Eri?" I ask. "Could you read me the princess and the frog tonight?"

"Of course!" I smile at her. "You must be really excited, huh? I've never read to you yet, have I?"

She shakes her head. "Alright, grab the book after dinner and I'll be up there soon after." Her hands shake in excitement. She starts eating her food faster.

"Slow down! It's not going anywhere." I tease.

She only replies by slowing down slightly.

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

I tuck her in and started to read the story to her while laying on the bed above the covers so she could look at the pictures in the book too.

We start to read the book. Well, mostly me reading it out loud to her. I don't even get halfway through the book to notice her falling asleep leaning against my shoulder.

She's rather stubborn though and refused to fall asleep until the book was finished. Laying her down fully, she falls asleep almost instantly.

Turning off the light, I then proceed back to the kitchen. There Shinsou sat, still doing his homework.

It's quiet between us with me sitting in the same chair as earlier. The only sound being the scratching of the pencil he's using on paper. Now is the best time to bond with him, but how? Could talking about his quirk work? Maybe him knowing I'm not afraid would help?

He looks up from the paper, straight into my eyes. "Do you truly like Eri?"

What's with that sudden question? Hasn't it been shown well with my interactions with her? "Of cour-" Something akin to icy claws felt like were wrapped around my head, leaving a numbing and foggy feeling over my body. My body is no longer in control of itself. The only explanation is it's his quirk. So this is his quirk in play. Does he want truthful answers? Then so be it. I've got nothing to hide.

"Be honest," His voice takes a sharp tone. "Do you like Eri?"

"Yes." my voice is monotone, and it honestly sounds rather strange.

He becomes ever-so-slightly less tense. "What is your goal?"

"To take care of you and Eri."

"In what way?" His eyes narrow. "Are you secretly hired to take Eri?"

"No. I am doing my job, and more." His brows furrowed into a look of confusion instead of accusing. "More?"

"My goal is to befriend you and take care of Eri." The foggy feeling goes away from my mind, most likely his quirk losing control as his eyes widen. It's hard to tell whether he willingly stopped, or it was caused by shock. "I'm also aware of your quirk. You should know that makes you no different to me."

He abruptly stands up from his chair like he's never been told such a thing before and can't believe it. I can only imagine how many children probably tell him it's a villain's quirk or something. Poor kid. Er, well... Teenager. In all honesty, that makes it worse. "How long have you known?"

"A week maybe? I'm not afraid of you or your quirk. I know you're trying hard to be a hero, and you'd never do anything that would harm me unless needed. You've most likely been told before, but you're not a villain, nor will you ever be," I smirk at him. "If you are, you're doing a terrible job at being one."

He gives a small and rather happy smile in return. There we go! We're getting somewhere! "Your guardians are usually around, but if you ever need anything and they can't help, you can always come ask or tell me, Shinsou."

He remains quiet for a moment. "Hitoshi."

"Pardon?"

"My name. Call me Hitoshi," He rubs the back of his neck with his left hand. "If you're serious about being with us, then I suppose it wouldn't hurt to call me by my first name," he lets out a sigh. "I also suppose it would also be problematic to find another sitter since Eri is rather attached to you already."

Well, he changed his mind rather suddenly. I'm not complaining though! I nod. "Hopefully I can be close with you as well someday. I know we're still rather rocky, but thanks for giving me the chance to grow better with you."

He replies with a nod in return. The pencil still in his hand writes down a few more things, then he puts it back into his backpack and looks at the time on the stove. "We might as well wait in the living room for their return."

I nod, and we both go into the living room. Shin- Hitoshi is much more relaxed around me now. Man, wish he could have used his quirk for confirmation earlier. Then again, this is the first time Eri hasn't been around, and she probably wouldn't be too happy to see him use his quirk on me.

The T.V. is mostly background noise as the two of us sit in silence. "So, Shin- Hitoshi. Are you more of a comedy person or a horror person?"

He shrugs. "Comedy can help me get into the minds of others by saying things that might make them reply, but horror is more interesting."

"Ooh! that's actually really smart to do! I didn't think of that until you mentioned it!" He smiles and rubs the back of his neck again.

A hand is suddenly placed on my shoulder, making me jump out of my skin. I sharply tilt my head up to lock eyes with Yamada. Seriously! How is their door so silent when it opens!? And more importantly, how can such a loud man be silent enough to sneak up on someone!?

"Glad to see the two of ya gettin' along!" He says with Aizawa slouched beside him.

I smirk at him. "It's been a bit of a challenge, but nothing I'm not willing to try going up against! Also, you scared the daylights outta me! How could you sneak up so well?"

He laughs. "All in a hero's work, even if I'm supposed to be a more noisy one!"

"I bet! Oh! Also, I did the dishes for you and made dinner, which is in the oven. I did it to keep it at least a little warm for when you guys got back to your home. Hopefully, you guys don't mind." They seemed rather surprised by that. Checking the time, it's almost midnight. There isn't school for them tomorrow. Eri told me they always take non-school days as family days. Well, unless either of them are called in for a patrol.

I get up and put my shoes on and look at Hitoshi before I go. "It was great getting closer with you today! See you soon, Hitoshi!" The adults' eyes widen greatly, and Yamada's mouth hangs so far open he might as well be a pelican. It makes Hitoshi laugh. Huh, he must not let many call him by his first name or something.

I leave, even more excited for what the future holds with this family than before.

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

#Yandere EraserMic household #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere present mic #yandere eraserhead #welcome to the family #yandere hitoshi shinso

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 years

Note

I got escape for the word generator, so can I get yandere trigger happy havoc boys with and s/o who's the ultimate escape artist?

Ooooo I haven’t written any yandere content in a hot minute *eyes emoji*

.............

Mondo

Not too knowledgeable on how to properly tie someone up himself.

His gang usually takes care of that with rope, chains, and bent metal pipes.

So it’s rather easy for his s/o to slip out of any restraint they’re put into.

Of course, Mondo will throw a massive temper tantrum every time to scare them into staying hidden.

But if any of the members tried to beat them up to get them to comply...

Well, let’s say they’re never seen again and Mondo’s gotta wash tons of pink off his hands.

Crazy Diamonds could disband for all he cares--they come second, his s/o is first.

His s/o feels bad for the gang, and wonders if Daiya would ever approve of this.

Taka

He’s madly in love with his s/o--finally being able to experience romance without studies or family matters hindering him.

But is it to the point where he’d try to restrict their free will so they couldn’t abandon him? No.

The first time he tried to, he only managed to approach them with a chloroform rag....

Before giving up and crying into their arms, ashamed of his intentions.

His s/o is alarmed by his bizarre change in behavior, but comforts him and promises they won’t leave him.

He just becomes overly affectionate and clingy instead, trying to study all he can about romance to be the perfect lover.

Taka is the nicest type of yandere...if you could even call him that.

Kiyondo

If Taka’s soul-bond takes over, he pretty much acts like Mondo.

Minus the biker gang.

Though he’ll try barriers, zip ties--anything he can find to keep his s/o from leaving him.

But his work is often sloppily done, since part of him is still somewhat convinced his actions are wrong and immoral.

When they do get free, he just huffs and has a brief temper tantrum.

Though eventually he walks away to cool off.

Usually he’s back to normal sometime after that.

Leon

Doesn’t care about music, baseball, or even his own looks anymore.

But when he sees someone being a bit too “friendly” or rude to his s/o...

Suddenly he feels like practicing some swings with that baseball bat in his closet.

When that’s taken care of, he’d try to imprison them in a batting cage, using whatever kind of lock he can get his hands on...

...only to turn around and find his s/o outside of it, holding said lock with a bored expression.

“A common lock? That’s child’s play. You really need to step up your game, sugar.”

*insert the ghostly face Leon made when Makoto demanded he showed his toolkit to the class*.

Chihiro

With this seemingly sweet and innocent boy, it’s hard to believe he’d be a challenge for the Ultimate Escape Artist.

But you’d be wrong.

He learned how to program locks with complex codes and ciphers that are nearly unsolvable by anyone except him.

Keyword is “nearly”, because he does feel some guilt if he keeps his s/o confined for too long.

So he’ll scatter numbers and letters around the room, allowing them to piece together the code on their own.

Usually the keys are things of “importance” to him like their birthday, the day they met Chihiro, their anniversary date, etc.

Yasuhiro

Any type of restraint he tries only has a 30% chance of working.

Which is quite low, and so his s/o escapes quickly.

Though he did manage to put them into the Robo Justice suit (minus the helmet), having learned how it works and making sure he destroyed the blueprints.

For once they’re actually stuck for a bit, and he’s shocked but pleased with himself.

“Hiro, we can’t have dates or properly hug when I’m in this suit, y’know..”

“....really?? Awh man..”

He’s gullible as hell and decides to drop the whole yandere thing after they get free.

Hifumi

He’s thought of..interesting ways to trap his s/o.

But he’s too nervous to actually try anything, given how smart and skilled they are at escaping.

So he just writes fanfics about it instead.

Definitely calls himself “yandere” and looks into yandere-based animes.

But he’s fairly harmless.

So his s/o doesn’t have much to worry about.

It’s safe to say his love for them surpasses his love for 2-D.

Togami

He’s read about many escape artists and other criminals/delinquents in his spare time.

So he knows their tactics--their methods of escape.

He doesn’t see his s/o any differently from them.

But he still loves them dearly, so he makes the traps/restraints he utilizes like a game for both of them.

If they break free, he tries something else the next day. Something more difficult.

He just wants to see how long it takes before they quit and surrender.

But they’re stubborn, like him, so it’s entertaining.

Makoto

He won’t even try anything.

Although he worries about his s/o leaving him for being “average”, it’s not like he wants them to live a restricted life.

From time to time, he might corner them and ask them where they’ve been.

But he’s quick to drop the act and apologize.

Like Hifumi and Taka he won’t cause any problems whatsoever.

He only trusts that with his luck, they’ll stay with him.

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swan-of-sunrise · 3 years

Text

Specs and the Flyboy (Chapter Seven)

Summary: (Y/N) makes a break in the case that leads her and Jack into a dangerous situation, and something begins to shift in their partnership.

Pairing: Jack Thompson X Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Seven West Coast Strategic Scientific Reserve, Los Angeles (Previous Chapter)

Rubbing at her temples in a weak attempt to rid herself of a splitting headache, (Y/N) once again cursed Michael Carter and his codes. They were easily the most challenging codes she’d ever attempted to crack, but a small part of her couldn’t help but admire his skill. A very small part, she thought through gritted teeth as her head throbbed in pain.

Hearing footsteps approaching her desk, (Y/N) reluctantly opened her eyes to see Jack saunter past and drop a folded note into her crowded inbox without a single glance at her. She watched as he entered Daniel’s office before grabbing the note and unfolding it; her eyes skimmed over the message, which she had to read twice to confirm she wasn’t seeing things:

Take a break from M’s codes, Specs, you look like your brain’s gonna explode.

Glancing up from the note, her eyes immediately found Jack looking at her through the glass window of the office, his eyebrows raised expectantly. She shook her head and struggled to suppress a smile as he rolled his eyes in exasperation. As well-meaning as his note had been, both she and Jack knew that until she decoded another of Michael’s codes, their investigation was virtually on hold. Jack had reached out to some more of his friends in D.C. in order to learn more about Michael’s military background, but the continuation of their investigation rested squarely on (Y/N)’s overly-stressed shoulders. If I keep this up I’m gonna get grey hair before I’m thirty, (Y/N) groaned inwardly as she returned her gaze to the code before her. Before she could resume her work, Peggy entered the bullpen and as she made her way towards her desk, (Y/N) surreptitiously covered the code with her translation journals.

“Can I ask you for a favor, (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) smiled warmly, concealing any signs of fatigue from her friend. “Of course, what can I do for you?”

“The New York branch is a little overwhelmed with decoding old wartime messages for documentation and filing, so Daniel’s offered them our services.” Peggy began thumbing through one of the files she’d set down on the desk. “They’re fairly straightforward codes, so they won’t do anything to aggravate that headache of yours; in fact, they may even serve to relax you.” (Y/N)’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and Peggy’s grin widened at her reaction. “Oh, please, (Y/N), we worked together for years; you don’t think I’ve forgotten how you act when your headaches come on, do you?”

“You’re right, Peg, I really shouldn’t be surprised at this point in our relationship.” Shrugging good-naturedly, (Y/N) helped her friend clear a space on the desk and set up their codebreaking materials. Once Peggy had fetched them each a strong cup of tea, they began their work. Just as the younger woman had predicted, (Y/N) quickly found herself relaxing as she decoded message after message, only pausing in order to sip her lemon and honey tea.

They had been working in comfortable silence for a while when Peggy suddenly spoke. “Good Lord, I haven’t seen this style of code in years! You’re the one who introduced them to me at Bletchley, remember?”

“Hmm?” Dragging her eyes away from her half-finished code, (Y/N)’s lips curved into a smile as she studied the page in Peggy’s hand. “Ah, poem codes! As I recall, you thought it was an archaic code and a waste of time to learn. You still feel the same way about it?”

“Oh, sod off.” Peggy’s withering look was broken by a reluctant grin. “I’ll admit, poem codes are useful but they’re still a pain in the ass to decode and no one outside of Literature students could possibly know enough poems to successfully utilize them.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue but froze as inspiration suddenly struck. Thinking fast, she gathered her translation journals and Michael’s code, whipped off her reading glasses and stood. “I forgot, I’ve got to get these write-ups down to Rose before lunch; I’ll be back in a jiffy, Peg!” With a brief glance in the direction of Daniel’s office, (Y/N) strode out of the bullpen and down the halls, quickly finding herself ducking into a cramped supply closet. She was practically bouncing in excitement by the time Jack squeezed his way into the space and flicked on the small lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. “I’ve done it!”

“What, finally had a mental breakdown? I know we need those codes cracked but you’re gonna run yourself into the ground at the rate you’re going, and-”

Unable to contain herself, (Y/N) reached up and covered his mouth with her hand; his eyes widened in surprise and before he could scowl, (Y/N) removed her hand and exclaimed, “I figured out how Michael’s creating his codes! He’s using his background in Literature to develop his own coding style! Remember, you read in that file the other week that he attended Cambridge before enlisting in the British Armed Forces, majoring in Philosophy and minoring in Literature; he definitely would’ve learned enough there to be able to create new codes.”

Jack’s brow rose and she got the sense that he was impressed by her epiphany. “And this new style, you can figure it out?”

“It’ll still be a challenge but since I think I have an insight into his process now, it shouldn’t take nearly as long as it has been.” With a triumphant grin, (Y/N) gestured to the code in her hand. “How about we decode this one over a turkey and Swiss at the diner tonight?”

“Sounds like a plan. Maybe we can also think of a better meeting place while we’re at it?” Jack’s face suddenly broke out into an amused grin. “I mean, the others might get the wrong idea if they catch us in here. You and me alone in a tiny supply closet…? Very scandalous.”

(Y/N) arched an unimpressed brow. “Is that so?”

“Oh, definitely. It’ll spread all over the office that the new codebreaker’s seduced the innocent Chief and then my reputation’ll be ruined.” His grin widened and (Y/N) rolled her eyes as she worked on extricating herself from the closet. “Hey, defending my virtue’s very important to me, Specs, don’t knock it!”

“Well, in that case…” Standing on her tiptoes and without a second thought, (Y/N) pressed a quick kiss on his neck and pulled away to admire the red lipstick staining his skin and shirt collar; with a smirk of her own, she gazed up at Jack’s stunned face. “Have fun defending that one, Flyboy.”

Before he could respond, she ducked back out of the closet and made her way back to the bullpen, fanning herself with her free hand as she went; for some odd reason, her face had suddenly become uncomfortably warm…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thanks again for the ride, Specs, but I still say I could’ve made it back to Stark’s place okay on my own.”

(Y/N) took her eyes off the empty backroad to shoot the man beside her an amused look. “You sprained your ankle jumping off my fire escape; you and I both know that it’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch if you put more pressure on it than necessary, which would’ve happened if you stood waiting for a taxi. Besides, I feel a little guilty for laughing as hard as I did when you had to hide from Mrs. Espinoza in the juniper bush.”

Jack’s lips curled into a reluctant grin and he pointed a warning finger at her. “You tell anyone ‘bout that and you’re dead, you got it?” His grin widened. “You know, the last time I had to hide in a bush like that was when I was in high school; I was leaving my gal’s house when her old man came home early and to this day, I can’t look at a rose without feeling those damn thorns digging into my back.”

“Well, I’m sure your gal appreciated the gesture all the same, although I would’ve hid my fella in the garden shed if I were her.” She smirked but after feeling his eyes trained on her, she spared another glance at him. “What?”

“Did you date a lot in high school?” He raised his hands in defense when her brow rose in surprise. “Hey, I’m just getting to know my partner a little better, you don’t have to answer or anything…”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “And if I choose not to answer I’m sure you’ll just drop the subject forever, huh?” Out of the corner of her eye, Jack shrugged again and she sighed in exasperation. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, Flyboy, but no, I didn’t date in high school. Even if my father hadn’t forbidden me from dating and I wasn’t overwhelmed with schoolwork, I doubt any of the fellas at my school were interested in me that way and to be frank, I wasn’t very interested in them, either.”

“Well, any guy would-wait, why’s that sign look so familiar?”

Pulling to the side of the road, (Y/N) squinted to make out the sign in the faint glow of her headlights. “‘Fieldman Family Orangery, Next Left.’ I think it’s just a-” Her eyes suddenly widened in recognition. “Wait. Michael’s personnel file had an Adam Fieldman listed as a roommate from Cambridge. You don’t really think…?”

Jack had already retrieved her briefcase from the back seat and withdrawn the message she’d decoded over dinner. “You tell me.” Written in her barely-legible handwriting was ‘FFO-Lab/Dist.’ “C’mon, at best we get more intel on whatever the hell Michael and his people are doing and at worst, we break into some poor geezer’s orangery by mistake.”

“Maybe we should wait for another day…?”

“It’s a Friday night, so there’s bound to be nobody hanging around and the moon’s out, which’ll provide us with some natural light. All perfect conditions for a little snooping around.”

Ignoring the feeling of foreboding in the pit of her stomach, (Y/N) switched off the headlights and slowly drove closer to the orangery; endless rows of orange trees ringed a sizable factory building and off to the side was a lot filled with a dozen large delivery trucks. She parked the car behind the trucks and reached into her purse for her gun and pen. “You stay here, I’ll take a quick look around and-”

“Wait, what the hell are you talking about?” It was Jack’s turn to look apprehensive. “You’re not going in there alone.”

Once again sighing in exasperation, (Y/N) gestured to Jack’s ankle. “It’s a little difficult to snoop around when you can’t even walk, Flyboy, wouldn’t you say? I’m a fully trained field agent so I’ll be more than fine by myself in there. Okay?”

With his arms crossed over his chest, Jack’s hardened blue eyes bored into hers and she stared right back, raising a single challenging brow. After several moments, he turned away and heaved a sigh. “Okay, fine, I won’t go in.” When she made no move to leave the car, he threw up his hands in exasperation and gave her a look. “I promise, I’ll be a good boy and stay in the car! Happy?”

“I suppose so.” Without waiting for a reply, (Y/N) opened the car door and quietly stepped out.

Instead of arguing with her some more, Jack leaned forward and caught her arm before she could move, his hand wrapping firmly around her bare wrist; it might’ve been her imagination, but she could’ve sworn that her skin flushed at the contact. “And what’re you gonna do with a pen, Specs, write on ‘em?”

“You’d be surprised.” She gave him a secretive smile and withdrew her arm from his grasp before closing the car door and sneaking her way towards the closed factory, tucking the seemingly innocent pen into her pocket as she went.

Now this takes me back, (Y/N) thought to herself a handful of minutes later when she went about picking the lock of one of the side doors; she’d learned the skill shortly after joining up with the Howling Commandos and would never forget how many of her hairpins had been destroyed during her practice sessions with the soldiers. I’m pretty sure Barnes promised he’d buy me some more once the war was over, she recalled with a twinge of sadness as she remembered the easy-going Sergeant, but the feeling was quickly replaced with elation when the door unlocked with a faint click.

Nudging the door open with the toe of her shoe, (Y/N) raised her gun and entered what appeared to be a large packaging room; stacks of wooden crates formed long rows and in the faint light of the moon streaming through the skylights, she could barely make out an open doorway. Just as she was about to continue into the room, the sudden sound of footsteps grew increasingly louder and caused her to spring into action; moving as quietly as she could, (Y/N) hurried down the left-hand row and after spotting a gap in between two crates, hurriedly ducked into it and took a deep breath. The heavy footsteps grew louder before stopping altogether.

“There’s nothin’ here, wise-ass! I told you you was hearin’ things!”

“Yeah, yeah, just get your ass back here and deal, Jerry, I ain’t got all night to wait for you!” Another masculine voice called from the opposite end of the room. “And bring some more smokes while you’re at it!”

“Hey, you better not be lookin’ at my cards…!” Jerry’s voice faded as he hurried back to the opposite end of the room.

(Y/N) took a moment to let out the breath she’d been holding before poking her head out of her hiding spot to check if the coast was truly clear. Satisfied, she emerged and continued moving silently through the room and towards the open doorway; they must be security guards for the company, she reasoned as she flattened herself against the outstretch of wall behind the propped-open door, it doesn’t necessarily mean this place is connected to our case.

The moment the thought of sneaking back to her car to lay into Jack for his paranoia crossed her mind, (Y/N)’s attention was drawn to the muffled sound of voices through the open doorway. Ducking out of her hiding place, she crept into the next room and instantly spotted the light shining through the cracked-open door to her left; being mindful of her footsteps, she slowly moved closer to the doorway and flattened herself against the wall before finally allowing herself to listen to the voices.

“Listen, I’m okay with sending out another shipment in the next few weeks but we need to be more careful, the SSR-”

“-Hasn’t got a single clue about what it is or who invented it. My source inside the agency told me that their Chief has officially closed the case and that their only piece of evidence is locked away in their archives.”

The first man sighed in frustration. “All right, all right, but remind your hired goons not to leave another one behind at the next hit or that’ll have every agency in town on our tail. And tell the boss-”

“Tell him what? That you’re unsatisfied with your deal? I’m sure he’d love to-”

“N-no! No, no, I only meant…he needs to remember Chief Thompson…”

With a chuckle, the second man replied, “Concerned, are we? How touching. Rest assured, the boss hasn’t forgotten about that particular problem. Jack Thompson will soon be taken care of the same way he’s already taken care of that careless Templeton…”

Although she felt the handle of the gun slip out of her grasp, (Y/N) didn’t fully register it until the sound of the gun hitting the stone floor echoed throughout the room. Her heart jumped into her throat as she acted on pure instinct; she darted behind a stack of crates stamped with a vaguely-familiar symbol and fumbled with her jacket pocket, from which she finally withdrew her compact mirror. Holding it in front of her and adjusting its angle, (Y/N) watched as the door swung open and the two men hurried out. Because of the glare on her mirror, she was unable to make out any of their features and before she could get a closer look, the men caught sight of her gun on the floor and immediately ran back into the room; a moment later, a shrill alarm began blaring throughout the orangery.

“Shit.” She snapped her mirror closed and withdrew her pen from her pocket while she listened to the sounds of heavy footsteps approaching. Six men armed with pistols that just branched out into two groups, she deduced, most likely more on the way so there’s only one way to play this. After taking a quick peek around the crates and deep bolstering breath, she clicked down on the top of the pen and tossed it in the direction of the three armed men, flattening herself against the crates as the pen released a small-scale explosion that knocked out all three men.

As expected, the other three men were drawn to the commotion and (Y/N) used their reaction to her advantage; once they ran past her hiding spot, she leapt out and threw her compact mirror at the back of one of the men’s head, the force of it knocking him clear to the floor. Charging the two remaining men, she punched one roundly in the face and kneed him in the groin, using his unbalance to roughly shove him head-first into a stack of crates. The second man fired his gun at her and she ducked down just in time to avoid the bullet; she thrust a foot out and kicked his shin with the sharp heel of her shoe, jumping to her feet as yelled in pain and clutched his leg. She gave him a quick sidekick to the head and watched as he slumped to the ground, unconscious. The first man she’d thrown her compact at staggered to his feet, only to fall back down when (Y/N) grabbed an empty crate and slammed it upside his head.

Wasting no time, she dropped the crate, sprinted out of the room and back into the packaging room, the thought of escape being the only thing on her mind. Just as her eyes fell on the door she’d entered the orangery through, something large and solid slammed into her and sent her flying into the stack of crates to her left. She landed harshly onto the floor amid the broken wood and groaned in pain as she struggled to her feet, but a hard hit to her face sent her sprawling back down and her eyes instinctively squeezed shut.

“You’re one tough cookie, ya know?” The man standing over her let out an impressed whistle, and she recognized it as the voice of Jerry, one of the poker-playing guards from earlier. She also recognized the unmistakable sound of a gun being loaded and was silently thankful she’d kept her eyes closed. “Shame it’s gotta end this way.”

“Yeah, you took the words right outta my mouth.” (Y/N)’s eyes flew open just in time to watch as Jack Thompson knocked the man out with a single punch; the man fell to the ground in a heap and Jack immediately limped over to help her stand. “C’mon, we’ve gotta go, I already took care of the other guards but more’ll be coming…” They ran as quickly as their injuries would allow and since they were in such a hurry, (Y/N) didn’t complain when Jack dove into the driver’s seat and gunned it down the road. “That…that was the definition of a SNAFU.…”

(Y/N) struggled to control her erratic breathing and her shock was beginning to wear off, only to be replaced by white-hot anger. “I thought I told you to stay in the car!”

“Seriously? I just saved your ass from getting shot and you wanna argue about that now?”

“You didn’t trust that I could gather intel on my own, did you? That’s why you went in after promising you wouldn’t!”

“No, I went in after you ‘cause I heard a goddamn bomb go off and thought you were in trouble! And of course I trust you to get intel on your own, you’re an agent for crying out loud!”

She let out a heartless laugh at that. “This coming from the man who recently called me a weak, emotional liability!” Jack’s head turned sharply to face her and his dumbfounded expression only served to spur on her anger. “Face it, Jack Thompson, you don’t give a shit about our partnership, you just wanted to collect the intel by yourself for your investigation, and I-!” As she shifted in her seat, a white-hot pain erupted in her left leg and she couldn’t suppress the loud gasp of pain as her eyes squeezed shut. “Argh!”

“What’s wro-? Oh shit…” Jack’s abrupt shift in tone caused her to blink her eyes open and follow his horrified gaze to the expanding bloodstain on her thigh. “How deep’s that wound?” She didn’t answer, as the sight of her own blood was already causing her head to loll and her vision to darken. “Specs? (Y/N)! Hey hey hey, (Y/N), stay awake, you hear me? C’mon, keep your eyes open!” Her eyes were drifting closed, and the last thing she clearly remembered before succumbing to the darkness was the newfound pressure on her leg and the sound of her name being called over and over...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Cliffhanger! Thank you so much for reading! If you haven’t checked it out yet, I created a Spotify playlist for this series and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW

Chapter Eight

“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist

Tagging: @nnon-it-up @fluffymadamina @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @theserenityspace @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent @momc95 @brooke0297 @kinda-c0nfused @outoftheregular @mads-weasley

#jack thompson x reader #agent carter #jack thompson #peggy carter #daniel sousa #michael carter #marvel cinematic universe #strategic scientific reserve

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igottiny · 4 years

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Ateez: Individual member: Playing Seven Minutes in Heaven with you, their crush. Female reader.

It was just supposed to be a relaxing night with you hanging out in the dorms with the boys before the next round of promotions started. But innocent games eventually turned in Never Have I Ever, and Truth or Dare. Currently it was a game of Truth or Dare. You were called on by the previous victim to choose between these given two options. Feeling brave you picked dare. What you weren't expecting was the smirk and being told that you had to play Seven Minutes in Heaven with, of all people in the room, your crush.

Wooyoung - He knows he has always been a little shit to everyone but for Seonghwa to give this dare was down right cruel, cold hearted revenge. He knows that he has the world’s biggest crush on you. You were just so sweet and pretty so who could blame him for falling for you when you so honestly and earnestly praised his dancing and vocals? Seonghwa was the one to point it out to him as he actually defended you from the other’s teasing instead of being the one doing the teasing. So why is he doing this? And why are the other’s telling you to “knock him dead?”

There wasn’t much room in the utility closet with the furnace and water heater taking up most of the space. There was maybe only a couple of inches between you at best. You had quickly become his loudest cheerleader and he blanched at the thought of scaring you off. And here you were stuck in this small space with him for the next seven minutes, after which you would probably not think so highly of him cause he was a stammering mess.   “I… I—I’m sorry Y/N. We d—don’t have to do a—anything. We… we can j—just talk. N—not like we d—do a lot.” He was ashamed he didn’t try and talk to you more. He just didn’t know what to do half the time he was in such awe.

“It’s ok Wooyoung. I don’t mind. You’re cute,” you say without missing a beat. “I could definitely do far worse.” You were teasing him.

The blush that covered his face and neck was a deep pink and he was just grateful the lighting from the one low wattage light bulb was really dim. This wasn’t fair. You couldn’t have meant that and why were you smiling like that? A moment later he felt your hands on his shirt, bringing him to you. That’s when he noticed the blush on your cheeks.

“You are cute you know. And you really do look amazing when dancing. It’s captivating. Please tell me I’m not crazy for thinking that you are always looking to see if I’m watching you when I sit in on dance practices.”

“You’re not,” he croaks. “You’re not crazy. You have my attention the moment you walk into the room. And I like your attention.” He takes a deep breath and holds it as he doesn’t know what to expect. He melted even more as your smile widened, and not even a second later you both went in for a kiss. His ego spiked when you whimpered into the kiss as he deepened it.

Minutes rolled by and he couldn’t pull away. Who needed air anyway? You fingers where tangled in his hair, and his hands sat dangerously low on your lower back. Feeling daring he let his fingers play with the back of your leggings waistband. When you leaned into the touch he just went for it and let his hands slip in and grab at your ass.

It was of course at this moment that the door was being thrown open and the other members were either cheering or groaning cause they had lost the best they had placed on the two of you. He spent the rest of the night off to the side holding you as you talked about everything and nothing at the same time.

___________________________________

MASTER LIST

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez smut #wooyoung #jung wooyoung

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recurring-polynya · 3 years

Text

Today’s AU suggestion comes from Tumblr user @missdramaqueensworld We had a bit of a back-n-forth, and I hope you don’t mind that I mushed a couple of your suggestions together into a Lighthearted Superheroes AU! Byakuya has always given me Big Bruce Wayne vibes, what with his extensive wealth and his flair for the overdramatic and his propensity for collecting orphans. I think I got the spirit of the thing (and, of course, the opening line!) I hope you like it!! (Note: I didn’t include the original prompt because it was very detailed and I didn’t want to give everything away, but please give credit to @missdramaqueensworld for all the good ideas and me for all the terrible superhero names)

Read on ao3 or ff.net

🦸 🌸 💥

“Hisana,” Byakuya called, as he contemplated the secret niche that was hidden behind the rear panel of his ancillary special occasion shoe closet. “Where is Senbonzakura?”

“Where’s what?” his beloved wife’s voice rang back.

Byakuya gritted his back teeth. “The mystical sword that has been passed down through twenty-eight generations of my family that allows me to fight crime as the mysterious hero Captain Sakura?”

Hisana leaned up against the doorframe of his closet. “Haven’t seen it. Where’s the non-mystical, yet very expensive tuxedo that allows you to escort me to the charity benefit that I’ve been planning for three months?”

“I am not joking, Hisana, I have a responsibility to the city!”

“That’s right, you do! You’re a charming and handsome philanthropist who is helping his beautiful wife raise piles of money for underprivileged children!”

Byakuya tried to rack his brain. Where could he have left the thing? “You know very well what I mean. The city is under attack by dark forces. Dark forces, Hisana!”

Hisana put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you have sidekicks for this?”

“They do not like being called sidekicks, they are allegedly adults now. Besides, you are the one who told me to stop bothering them so much. They have their own lives now, you said.” Which vehicle had he used last? The Sakura Bike? The Sakura Jet? He didn’t think it was the Sakura Jet-Ski, but honestly, all of last week was just blurring together.

“They can have their own lives on nights when I don’t have a charity benefit,” Hisana hissed.

Wait. He’d had that unfortunately team-up with the Great Desert Brothers (or were they calling themselves Phantom Thief NelDoPe again?) and he’d had to spend a great deal of time cleaning “Infinite Slick” off of Senbonzakura afterwards. The sword was probably on his workbench down in the Sakura Cave. Byakuya turned and attempted to exit his own closet, only to find his way blocked by the one opponent he had never truly bested: his 4’11”, stunningly beautiful and amazingly brilliant wife. “Excuse me,” he said.

“Excuse you?” Hisana asked, her eyes wide with false innocence. “You are not going down to the Sakura Cave.”

“I am going to the Sakura Cave.”

“You’re going down to the Sakura Cave because you’re going to drive us to the charity benefit in the pink Lambo, right?”

Byakuya regarded her. “The Sakuramobile is for official Captain Sakura business only. You are welcome to take the Aventador or the Huracan if you like.”

Hisana threw her hands out at her sides. “Byakuya. Look at me.”

Byakuya looked. Respectfully, of course. His wife was clad in a form-fitting navy blue sheath that flared just below her knees. From the front, the neckline was high and modest, but he knew for a fact that it swept low, exposing nearly the whole of her back. Her hair was swept up into an intricate knot at the nape of her neck. An array of tiny diamond hairpins shone like stars among the night sky of her tresses. Her makeup, as always, was impeccable, from her silvery smokey eye to the kissable red of her lips.

“Imagine!” she wailed. “Me! Walking through those huge doors at the Museum of Contemporary Art. By myself! To my own fundraiser!”

“I can imagine it,” Byakuya agreed. “You will turn every head in the room. That cad, Kuchiki, they will say. The fool. He knows not what he has.”

Hisana narrowed her eyes at him.

“The most beautiful woman in Seireitei City, for once, away from the overprotective glare of her impossibly handsome husband.”

Hisana rolled her eyes.

“You will have the undivided attention of every man in the room and more than a few of the women. They will be elbowing each other out of the way for the merest crumbs of your regard. And you, being you, should no doubt be able to spin these tragic circumstances into a positively dizzying pile of donation checks. That should make the orphans very happy, yes?”

Hisana’s face was screwed up into a lovely scowl, as her desire for his company warred with her love for parting cretinous billionaires from their walking-around money. Byakuya didn’t blame her, of course. She was a very patient and understanding woman to so frequently part from her charming and debonair husband in the best interests of Justice. Nevertheless, the city needed him at this desperate hour.

“And I promise,” Byakuya continued, lowering his eyelids seductively, “that I shall sweep in before the night concludes, to rebuke those fools who would ever doubt my devotion to you.”

The tip of Hisana’s nose twitched. He had her.

“You have to show up at the dedication of the new community center.”

“Of course I would show up--”

“In the costume.”

Byakuya’s jaw tightened. “Hisana.”

“Captain Sakura is the third most popular superhero among children aged 7 to 12.”

“Third! I used to be second!” Byakuya had an angry suspicion whom he had been overtaken by.

“Used to be,” Hisana replied. “Maybe you should think about making more personal appearances. And flex more. I hear that children love flexing.” Dammit, this further confirmed his suspicions.

Byakuya heaved a sigh. “Fine. I will show up and charm the little rapscallions. I will not ‘flex.’ Please, may I go now?”

Hisana gracefully stepped to one side. “Good luck. Stay safe.” She touched his arm gently as he swished past, and went up on her tiptoes to bring her face closer to his. “And check the umbrella stand in the front hall. That’s where your magic sword was last time.”

Captain Sakura alighted on the rooftop of Metropolitan Bank with the grace of a drifting flower petal. A large hole cratered the bitumen and the smell of C-4 hung unpleasantly in the air. Below, police sirens wailed and sirens cast blue and red reflections. Also, there was bickering.

“Are you sure he can breath in there?”

“I am a professional, of course he can breathe! You don’t believe me? I’ll trap you in a block of ice!”

“I never said I didn’t believe you, I just-- hey, look who’s here! Good to see you, Captain!”

Byakuya crossed his arms over his chest. “Yuki-onna. Sakura Boy.”

Yuki-onna, Mistress of the Ice and Snow, groaned. “You know very well he goes by Red Ronin now.”

Sakura Boy looked very much like he was biting his tongue as he tapped his massive whip-sword on his shoulder.

“Who was the perpetrator?” Byakuya asked, squinting inside the block of ice.

“That toothy bastard, Preying Mantis,” Sakura Boy supplied.

“He is one of the Ten Espada, you know, they often travel in--”

“We caught his dweeby sidekick downstairs, the police already have him,” Rukia replied. “We already swept the premises. You really didn’t need to come out.”

“It is bad enough,” Byakuya bit off, “that you two refused to take a honeymoon. You are supposed to be on a… a whatsit…” he waved one hand vaguely. “A stay-cation?”

“Eh, it’s not like we have hobbies,” Renji added, poking the block of ice with his sword.

“And aren’t you supposed to be raising money? For underprivileged children?” Rukia accused.

“I will be making a dramatically late entrance,” Byakuya snapped.

“Well,” Renji frowned philosophically, “as long as you’re here, can you help us figure out how to get this guy down to the ground?”

Children. You could raise them, give them their own utility belt, teach them to drive a jet ski, but they would still ask for your help in moving a seven-foot-tall mantis man trapped in a block of ice.

“Of course,” Byakuya agreed.

#my writing #wacky au requests #can you tell i used to write batfam fanfic?#i used to write batfam fanfic #i had to sit thru a 15-minute rant on how much Mr P hates Lambos for this #this man tried to spell 'murcielago' to me #'it means bat' he said #u will notice that no murcielagos appear in this fic #the huracan is the lambo that tried to kill dr strange

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florenceandthemachine · 3 years

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(my @911giftexchange contribution for @brcttshvghes!!) Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Howie "Chimney" Han, Bobby Nash, Athena Grant Additional Tags: First Kiss, Christmas, Secret Santa, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining

Last Christmas, Eddie had—as Hen would put it—his ‘oh’ moment.

No, it wasn’t when Buck had thrown himself into action to help some random dad see his daughter sing for Christmas.

No, it wasn’t when Eddie caught Buck trying to sneak extra presents (for he and Christopher both) under the Diaz tree.

No, it wasn’t even when some random elf had complimented Buck on his “beautiful family”.

Eddie’s ‘oh’ moment came when Athena announced that she was saving them all from themselves, when he walked into the firehouse loft and saw his kid standing there, beaming like a megawatt spotlight, smiling not only up at his dad but at Buck; and suddenly things clicked into place. Buck had set all of this up, and sure, it was for the whole house... but it was also for him. Buck had done this all, for him. He had Chris in his arms, he had Buck by his side, and Eddie realized—not for the first time, but for the first time with this level of severity—that this was exactly what he wanted, for the rest of his life.

Forever.

Hence the ‘oh’ moment.

(Hen had suggested calling it his ‘no fucking shit, you clueless moron’ moment instead. Eddie had politely declined.)

The ‘oh’ moment was one thing. The ‘oh’ moment was great.

Afterward, though, afterward everything was kind of sucky.

Valentine’s Day was rough. Watching Athena lock up a newlywed couple together, that was fun, sure, but seeing Buck with Ali? That was... literal torture.

The tsunami sucked. The bomb sucked.

The lawsuit, that really fucking sucked.

But pulling Buck into his arms underneath some shitty Halloween decorations, being back together again, that... that was almost worth it.

Even if he had to watch Buck bat his eyes at Taylor Kelly a few days later.

“Why don’t you just tell him?” Hen had asked the next month, sprawled out over the couch in the loft, idly kicking Eddie’s thigh as he groaned, full of Bobby’s turkey and homemade cranberry sauce.

“And risk it all?” Eddie had asked, long since beyond the point where he wanted to even pretend that he didn’t know what Hen was talking about.

And when Abby reappeared in Buck’s life with a fiancée and two stepchildren, Eddie knew staying quiet was the right idea. He wouldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk it.

“Hey, Eds, hand me another nail?”

So now here he was, almost a year later (“A full year of pining, Eddie, seriously, if you don’t say something by New Year’s—“ “I hate you, Hen.”), staring at Buck’s ass as he struggled to hang another loop of garland haphazardly throughout the station.

After a moment of hesitation, he did as he was asked, sighing as he held up another couple of tacks that Buck could push into the wall. “Why are you even doing all of this, Buck? I don’t know if you noticed, but the station was already decorated.” Eddie said with a hum, leaning back against the wall as he looked up to Buck, not-so-subtly admiring the way Buck’s entire body reacted as he laughed.

“Please, it looked like Pottery Barn threw up in here. We needed something other than stark white garland and red ornaments, Eds.” Buck descended down the step ladder and stepped back to admire his handiwork as Eddie looked around the station—as much as he hated to admit it, Buck was absolutely right. The station had been decorated by what looked like the night crew after one too many cups of coffee; too clean, too pristine, all glittering white garland neatly tacked up to every corner with a giant red bauble tacked at every intersection.

Needless to say, once Buck had gotten through with things, it was... definitely far from a professional looking decor job. Buck had rigged up huge wreaths made of fake garland and bows made out of giant, floppy, silver and gold ribbon, and hung them all over the station.

He had all but stapled his hand to the wall hanging up Christmas lights—the old, slowly blinking type, on the thick green cord, the type where if one light went out they all went out. There were twinkling, colorful lights all over the walls, mounds of fake snow around the staircase, big, fake poinsettias all over the kitchen.

At some point in time, while Hen and Chim were passing time upstairs in the loft and Bobby was stuck in his office doing paperwork, Buck had even rigged up his iPhone to play Christmas carols over the entirety of the station PA system (“Don’t worry, Eddie, calls will still come through and cut out over the alarm,” Buck had assured him, and Eddie was struck, not for the first time, with pride as he realized how much planning Buck really put into things like this).

The station was a mess, honestly. It was a jumbled, disorganized, chaotic explosion of Christmas. The station had gone from Pottery Barn to looking like a Yuletide grenade had gone off.

Eddie loved it.

“There! All finished. Back up, Eddie, I’m coming down.” Eddie blinked as he was jerked back into the present, standing back to admire the latest (and apparently the last) wreath that Buck had woven on the wall, acutely aware of the closeness that he and Buck shared as Buck beamed up at his handiwork.

He managed to look away from Buck’s smile—glowing didn’t even begin to cover it—right as Buck turned to look at him, clearing his throat. “Alright, Buck, what gives? Not that I’m mad about the extra decor you’ve doused the place with, but this is even bigger than what we did last year. There another surprise party that I’m supposed to be aware of?” Eddie asked, smiling as Buck threw his head back and laughed.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Buck started, looking over his shoulder as he folded up the ladder, heading back through the gym to the utility closet. “We’re still on for Christmas dinner at the station with everyone’s family, and unless Hen or Bobby has something else planned—because let’s face it, Chim would forget it was Christmas all in all if Maddie didn’t remind him—that’s all that we’re doing as a station. I just figured we needed as much holly-jolly as we could this year.”

His words were innocent enough, but Eddie had known Buck for years now, and the last year had been spent watching Buck a little more… closely than usual. So he knew that Buck’s innocent smile was just a shade on the wrong side of sneaky, how his words were carefully chosen so he wouldn’t be technically lying. Buck was smart—seriously, Eddie didn’t understand how people always forgot that—and they were the kind of things that Eddie would have missed if he wasn’t so… invested.

Sure. Invested. That was the right way to think about it.

“Hey, Eds,” and damn, a nickname shouldn’t bring him that much joy, “can you open the closet up for me?” Buck asked, the smile on his face seemingly innocent as Eddie rose a brow, stepping around him and just taking the ladder from his hands, pushing the door open behind him, not missing the look of surprise on Buck’s face.

“Wait, Eddie—no, I can—“

“Buck, it’s a step ladder, it’s no big deal. Did you take anything else out of the closet, or was it just this?”

“Well no, but it’s just that—“

Before Buck could continue his protest, the Christmas carols died out throughout the station, the siren blaring in its place, and for a split second, Buck looked absolutely crushed, which was weirder than anything else Eddie had witnessed that morning, because Buck loved going out on calls.

The moment was gone in a heartbeat, but it still made Eddie’s mind reel as they darted off to their lockers to suit up, mind racing with questions as Buck was all laughs with Hen as Chim got behind the wheel.

Something was up, and Eddie was going to find out what… even if the day had other plans.

There were two ways that shifts around the holidays were destined to go. Either the 118 would be dead quiet, or the crew would be completely dead on their feet.

Unfortunately, today seemed like it would be the latter.

No sooner than they had been cleared from their first call of the day did another roll in, and then another, and then another, to the point where the only time that Eddie had to text his kid was between calls, and the 118 was probably trapped in their turnout gear for a good five hours without a single break.

Buck, to the surprise of absolutely no one, only grew more and more alive with every save—he had an absolute knack for riding the rush that came with the job, and by the time they finally pulled back into the 118, Buck and Eddie couldn’t have been in a more different place in their lives.

“Alright, six calls in five hours. I think I’ve earned a fucking nap.” Eddie grumbled as he slid out of his designated spot next to Buck in the ladder truck, barely even waiting to get to the rack on the wall before he started pulling his turnout gear off, impatiently tugging at his sleeves and kicking his boots off before he bothered to even loosen anything.

While the sound of Buck’s laugh behind him certainly raised his spirit, he still pouted as Buck sauntered up beside him, easily removing his own jacket and boots and hanging them up with a certain sense of maturity that Eddie couldn’t muster at the moment. “Come on Eddie, a nap? Did you turn fifty while I wasn’t looking?” Buck asked, the teasing tone of his voice bringing a smile to Eddie’s face as he shoved Buck’s shoulder playfully.

“Just because you can keep up with Chris’ special blend of all night holiday nonsense doesn’t mean we all can, Buck.” Eddie started, rolling his shoulder as he hung his turnout coat back up. “Right now, he’s probably running Carla through literally every last strip mall in the state, trying to find a perfect present for our Buck, and… uh.” Eddie cut himself off, far too late, cheeks pinking up as he clamped his jaw shut.

He feared the worst for a moment when Buck looked at him with stars in his eyes, thinking that his slip hadn’t gone unnoticed, and he had to work to hide his sigh of relief when Buck grinned. “He’s getting me a gift? I mean, I know he doesn’t have to, and you know he doesn’t have to, but… fuck, Eds, I’m all excited now. Okay. Forget it. Anyway, come on. I want to completely obliterate you in Mario Kart.”

Eddie sighed softly, his smile big and dopey on his face as Buck got himself all excited, shaking his head as he kicked off his boots, finally leaving his gear behind. “Buck, if you think I’m going to add insult to injury and let you completely wipe the floor with me, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“Fine, then you don’t have to play. You can just hang around and bask in my awesome.” Buck said, his effort at being nonchalant almost going over Eddie’s head, just barely catching the sidelong glance that Buck shot him while he was re-lacing his work boots.

He narrowed his eyes for a moment as he watched Buck’s shoulders tighten, sighing as he shook his head. “Fine, but you better fucking dazzle me, Buckley.” he said as he started walking to the tiny corner of the bay they had set up as a miniature rec area (a fancy word for three couches and a big-ass television, courtesy of Chim’s baby brother), but not before he saw the abject joy that bloomed over Buck’s face.

As much as he wanted to believe that that much joy could simply come from Buck getting to spend time on a couch with Eddie, he had a sneaking suspicion, much as he did earlier, that something else was up.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll learn something by osmosis, and actually stand a chance against your kid the next time he—“

Buck was cut off by a bang as the firehouse door hit the wall, a panicked cry pulling Buck and Eddie’s attention as they both automatically started to move.

“Help! Please, please I need help, I don’t think she’s breathing!”

Eddie and Buck were both immediately moving, Chim and Bobby close on their trail as they came down the stairs from the loft, Hen already opening the back of the ambulance and yanking out one of her bags.

Eddie slowed himself down as he reached forward to take the body of a young girl from her clearly distraught mother, Buck already a step ahead of him as he put a braceboard down on the ground, placing her too-small body down on it.

(Eddie still hated situations that involved kids.)

The little girl was conscious, but only barely, wheezing along as Eddie laid her down, taking her pulse instinctively as he gave her a simple once over. “Signs of angioedema, breathing is shallow, pupils are tight, plenty of hives across the neck and chest. Ma’am, does she have any allergies, any—”

“No! I mean, I don’t think so, we tried a new recipe for our christmas cookies this year… uh, almond, maybe? I don’t know!”

“Okay, we’re gonna give her some epinephrine, you need to look into an epi-pen, Buck?”

Buck nodded, grabbing a pen from the ambulance, pressing it against the thickest part of her thigh (she was so tiny, Jesus) and plunging the needle into her skin. “Alright, now, we’re going to take her to the hospital, so hop in the ambulance—” Bobby started, nodding to the vehicle as Hen and Chim jumped into the drivers cab, “—and you can ride with or follow along, whatever you want.”

Eddie and Buck had the gurney popped up in a heartbeat, wheeling it in the back of the rig as mother and daughter were loaded up, doors slamming behind the pair of them as Hen practically burned rubber.

Eddie felt his heart rate start to slow back down to a regular, human level as the ambulance tore out of the bay, and even he couldn’t keep the small smile on his face as he turned back to Buck, expecting the expression to be mirrored on his partner’s face.

So, you could imagine his surprise when Buck just looked… tired.

“Buck? You good? You still wanna get a round of the… uh… whatever?”

He rose a brow as Buck hitched his smile back on, giving a half shrug as he shook his head. “Nah, Eddie, it’s good. I’m gonna get started on Bobby’s chore list.”

With that, he started up the stairs to the kitchen, and Eddie was left in the metaphorical dust, staring up to Buck’s retreating backside as he was left alone on the main floor of the 118.

The fuck was going on?

buck fifty: why do i have to clean the kitchen if bobby and athena are just going to be cooking in an hour anyway

sent: Because, Buck, normal people clean the areas where they’re going to be preparing food.

buck fifty: miss me with that logic i havent had food poisoning in weeks dont @ me bro

Eddie let out a breathy bark of a laugh as he pushed up on the leg press again, his back drenched in sweat as he read over Buck’s reply. As much as he hated doing anything even remotely close to leg day, he figured that now was the time to work it out—a workout did better than a nap to help him wind down from back-to-back calls (and a near poisoning, Hen and Chim weren’t even back from the hospital yet), but it was a great way to keep his hands free so he could text Buck.

It was kind of sad, honestly, how many decisions that he made in his day to day life that were focused on Buck.

Today, though, the mission was a little more ‘what the fuck is up with Buck’ than it was anything else—Buck was a weird dude, sure, but he was acting jumpy and weird all fucking day today. Even in the moments when they were out on call, and Buck was in the zone, he still felt a little… off.

It was like there was a fucking satellite delay between them, and there had been all day. Eddie usually prided himself on being able to read a room, but today, it was like Buck was intentionally throwing walls his way.

Not that he was that attuned to Buck’s everyday emotions and mood, anyway. Nope. Definitely not.

…

fuck.

sent: Why don’t you come down here and do a few reps with me? Burn off some of that energy.

sent: Oh, wait, that isn’t an option for you yet. How sad.

buck fifty: look its not my fault that you happened to finish your chores earlier and i didnt

sent: …Buck, that is 100% your own fault. Are you good today? You’re weirding me out.

“Hello, 118! Did someone order a chef?” Eddie looked up as he heard Athena’s voice echo throughout the station, a smile on his face as he waved over to her. He loved the way that she had fit together with the station so well, and how she and Bobby got along as well as they did (even if he felt like he had to pay for it whenever Hen shot him a knowing look, less and less subtle with each passing day… okay, month), but he loved even more that she usually brought food, especially now, in what Eddie sincerely hoped would be a new tradition — Christmas dinner with his work family.

Make no mistake, Bobby’s cooking was phenomenal, but there was something about Athena’s family style everything that settled right in Eddie’s soul.

Maybe it was because she had the uncanny knack at seeing through his bullshit and calling him on anything and everything that he tried to pull when she was around, in a way that was both kind and hilariously firm.

Or maybe it was because she actually understood how to make a decent tex-mex meal.

Either way.

“Eddie, where’s our boys?”

Eddie looked up as Athena closed the distance to his machine in the gym, smiling as he did another rep. “Hey Athena. Buck’s cleaning up the kitchen, getting ready for you and Bobby.” he said easily, his legs giving a little wobble as he realized what he had said, eyes snapping to her easily. “Uh, I mean—“

“Diaz, please, we both know that was who I was talking about.” Athena said, cutting him off before he could answer, the knowing smile on her face making Eddie wish the ground would open him up and swallow him whole, but apparently LA was fresh out of earthquakes for the moment. Thankfully, Athena took some pity on him, keeping the conversation moving easily as she looked around the station. “I see he got a hold of the decorations. Good, the place looked too… clean before.” she said, and Eddie laughed even as his face flushed red, swinging his legs off the machine, the familiar burn in his thighs anchoring him in the moment. “Yeah, it really did. Buck said it looked like a Pottery Barn threw up.”

Eddie shook his head as Athena laughed, that same smile on her face again, but it was different now—easy, familiar, like she was seeing the answer to a puzzle that Eddie only had half the pieces to. “He’s a good man, Eddie. Both of you are. It’s just such a shame neither of you would know what healthy communication was if it bit you in the ass.” She said, shaking her head dramatically as she started up the stairs, leaving a completely baffled Eddie to grab his phone off of the machine as it buzzed again.

What the hell was she talking about? He and Buck communicated all the time.

buck fifty: ok now you have to help me

buck fifty: if athena and bobby are going to be in the kitchen together im going to wind up drowning in mushy

sent: How is that my problem? And don’t think you got by avoiding my other question.

buck fifty: eddie plz

sent: Use your words, Buck.

buck fifty: u gotta get up here and save me

sent: Have you cleaned out the oven yet?

buck fifty: ………

buck fifty: save me by helping me clean the oven

Okay, Eddie may have already lost the fight, but—

buck fifty: pleeeeeeeeeease

—but that didn’t mean he had to admit how wrapped around Buck’s pinky he was. He could still whine about it, he could still complain about it, he could still bring this up the next time he and Buck argued about who’s turn it was to go and answer the door when they ordered takeout. Cleaning the oven, that was absolutely something he could hold over Buck forever.

He made a quick detour to the locker room to change out of his gym clothes as he heard Athena greet the boys upstairs, his own smile begrudgingly pasted on as he remembered what Athena had said.

His boy. She had called Buck his boy.

It was… well, it was nice to dream.

He was basically floating on air as he made his way up the stairs, to the point where he almost walked straight until Bobby’s chest from where he stood at the top of the stairs. He let out a very masculine noise as he jumped back, nearly dropping his phone as Bobby clucked his tongue.

“Nope, Eddie, you know the rules. You and your black thumb need to stay far from the kitchen while we’re cooking.”

Eddie tried to sputter out a protest even as Athena laughed from her position near the fridge, unloading what looked like an actual mountain of groceries. “Come on Bobby, I’m sure he can’t be that bad—“

“He’s burned pasta, Athena.”

“That was one time!”

Eddie felt his face heat up as Buck immediately came to his defense, equal parts pleased and perturbed, as Bobby shook his head. “Not taking that chance, kid. Especially not while Athena is armed with two whole hams. Come on, go downstairs, shower up, and then we can find a way for you to help get ready for dinner that keeps you far away from the kitchen.”

“Cmon, Bobby—“

“Buck, you can clean the oven on your own. Now let’s go, we all got work to do.”

Eddie felt his mouth snap shut as Bobby dismissed him—not unkindly, nothing that Eddie hadn’t heard before, but the way that Buck was looking over at them was nothing short of tragic. He hadn’t seen Buck look that defeated since their run in at the grocery store in the midst of the lawsuit-that-they-didn’t-talk-about-seriously-Buck-we-both-apologized-it’s-fine.

Eddie’s brain continued to churn as he showered, nearly drowning himself beneath the scalding hot water as he tried to understand what the fuck was going on.

Buck had been acting weird. Which, honestly, wasn’t that unusual for Buck. Buck was a good man. He had his heart on his sleeve, like, constantly. He was happy when he was happy, he was sad when he was sad, and there was no hiding it when he was down.

And now, somehow, Eddie was bringing him down.

Or… when Eddie really thought about it, the lack of Eddie was bringing him down…

Eddie didn’t get to spend time with Buck, and Buck looked like someone had just stamped out his dreams.

And that… that was interesting.

The last piece of the puzzle finally sank into place as he toweled off his hair and stepped out of the locker room, right in time to hear Athena’s laugh ring through the station. He looked up to the loft in time to see Bobby dipping her into a kiss, but that wasn’t where his eyes focused—no, they were instead focusing on something red and green. Something red and green and small and something that was definitely not there before Buck started his redecorations this morning, hanging in front of the oven.

The oven that he was supposed to help Buck clean.

Eddie felt his eyes narrow as he looked around the station, trying to retrace his steps throughout the station from the moment he walked in that morning. The utility closet… the recreation area… and back to the kitchen again.

He felt a small smile, in spite of himself, spread across his face, something dangerously close to hope blooming in his chest. Fate seemed to smile on him as Hen and Chim pulled back into the firehouse bay, and he took the opportunity to smack Hen’s arm as she walked past him.

“Ow, Eddie, what the f—“

“I’m gonna risk it, Hen.” Eddie said, effectively cutting her off, knowing that she would pick up on what he meant immediately. “But I need some help. You got a minute?”

“Buckaroo, will you take these plates down to the table? Here, bring Eddie some silverware.”

“Yeah, no problem Chim.”

Eddie elbowed Hen away from him as Buck started down the stairs, trying his best to act like he was doing anything but listening up the stairs. He and Hen had been busy setting up the table (and a few other things) while Chim was assigned on running interference upstairs, which turned out to be the easiest job of all while Buck… well, while Buck moped.

Eddie hated Buck moping. Almost as much as he hated how cute he thought it was, now that he knew what Buck was up to.

Or, at least, he thought he knew what Buck was up to. He was still painfully aware of how wrong this could all go—maybe it was the magic of the season, maybe it was a year in the making, maybe it was Hen egging him on, but Eddie…

Eddie actually felt like he could do this.

Even if it meant that he had to play completely oblivious in the meantime.

“Alright, Buck,” Eddie started, taking the stack of plates out of Buck’s hand, somehow fighting the smile as Buck handed them over, “what’s wrong? You’ve been acting weird all day.”

Buck grumbled as he tugged at the corner of the table cloth, straightening out a few placemats as he shrugged. “Nothing, Eds, I’m fine. Just a weird day, I guess. Dinner should be good, though!” Buck said, hiking a smile up onto his face. Eddie did his best to hide a little laugh as he nodded to Hen, who had slipped into the cab of the ladder truck.

“Buck, come on. I’ve known you for years, you’re not fine. Weird, yes. Fine, no.”

Buck stuck out his tongue as he started to dole out forks and knives, the little lighthearted gesture doing something to ease the worry that Eddie felt at the base of his spine, but he could still see the tension coiled through his best friends shoulders.

“Seriously, Buck, I—“

“It’s fine, Eddie! I just…” Buck’s shoulder slumped as he started to deflate, the harsh tone of his voice giving way as his face flushed. Setting the last fork down, he started to pace in earnest, speaking with his hands as much as he was with his voice. “I just had a certain thought about how things might go this year, and fate, or destiny, or whatever, has made it very clear that’s not going to be how it goes. I dunno, I thought I could make things… different, or special or whatever?” he started, and Eddie seriously had to swallow the words that were threatening to spill over his lips.

Buck wanted to make things special. Buck wanted to make things special. For him. Like Buck didn’t do that kind of thing every day simply by existing.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter, you don’t have to worry about it.” Buck sighed as he put the last fork down and started pacing at the head of the table, and Eddie had to make sure his voice wasn’t going to waver when he spoke again.

“It still can be special, Buck—“

“Eds, it’s whatever. It was stupid anyway.”

“Buck.”

“No, Eddie, it’s okay, I shouldn’t have—“

“Buck. Stop. Breathe.”

Eddie grabbed both of Buck’s shoulders to stop him from pacing, raising his eyebrows as Buck finally made eye contact with him.

“Are you breathing? Okay. Great. Good. Now look up.”

“Eds, what are you talking about?”

“Buck, for the love of God, listen to me for once in your life and just look up.”

Eddie took a moment to savor the complete confusion written on Buck’s face as he finally comprehended what Eddie was asking (with a murmured complaint of “I always listen to you”), and Eddie let his eyes lock on to Buck’s face. Mostly because he wanted to see Buck’s reaction, but partially because he was afraid of what said reaction would be. Even if Buck was seeing the mistletoe above them for the first time, that Eddie had painstakingly tied to the top rung of the ladder that Hen had extended over the table from the truck, this was the moment of truth—and Eddie already knew what was up there.

Besides, Buck was a much better view than some green garnish.

“That’s, uhm.” Buck started, and Eddie finally gave up trying to keep the smile off his face. “That’s mistletoe.”

Eddie hummed thoughtfully as Buck looked back to him, “It is. I pulled some from the kitchen, found a sprig near the rec room, one from the utility closet…”

Buck actually had the decency to look surprised as he looked back to Eddie, literal stars in his eyes. “And you… put them together. And tied them to the ladder, and… got me to stand under it with you.” Buck continued, slowly, and Eddie gave a little chuckle as he nodded his head, taking a step closer. “I did. I mean, unless I’m misreading this entire situation, in which case I have no idea what you’re talking about, and if that’s the case, I’m going to go dig a hole out back and throw myself—mmhph.”

Eddie was more thankful than anything when Buck took the step forward to close the distance between them before he could start rambling, one hand on Eddie’s jaw to tilt it up (god he loved that Buck was taller than he was), the other warm and heavy on his hip (god, he loved Buck’s strong hands), lips slotting together with an ease that Eddie had never experienced with a first kiss before (god, he loved kissing Buck).

He also loved Hen and Chim, because no sooner did Chim hit the switch near the bay doors to dim the lights around the ladder truck did Hen manage to restart Buck’s Christmas playlist, Irving Berlin’s voice crooning about a white Christmas over the station speakers as Eddie’s arms wrapped around Buck’s neck.

When they finally pulled back to breathe, Eddie found himself tiptoeing up to chase Buck’s lips, his face flushing bright red afterward when he realized what he had done. They both started laughing as Buck’s hands dropped down to Eddie’s waist, Eddie following suit and letting his hands rest on Buck’s shoulders, fitting together in a way that Eddie had only imagined.

“So… I guess the mistletoe worked out for you in the end.” Eddie said with a smile, and Buck laughed, shaking his head, that beautiful ruddy color staining his cheeks again. “Eds, I, uh… I’ve kind of been working up the courage to do something like this for weeks.” He said sheepishly, and Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, smacking Buck’s shoulder.

“Weeks? To think, you still had months to go before you were anywhere close to my level.” Eddie said as he pulled away, sighing as he smoothed over Buck’s collar, a smile on his face as he turned and left a stunned Buck in his wake.

“Wait, Eddie, what?”

Eddie shook his head as he walked back into the locker room, Buck following suit shortly after.

“Eds, no, wait! How long did I pine without needing to?? Eddie!!”

#911giftexchange #buddie #911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #idiots in love #mutual pining #first kiss #fluff #christmas #merry crisis!#flospeaks

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thotsforvillainrights · 3 years

Note

Dear queen, could you please supply thy brain with a bit of hojo smut? Maybe him and his s/o are caught red handed in the work closet by on of his co-workers? You don't have to do this btw.

[Bold of you to assume I won’t do it, ESPECIALLY since I need this opportunity to push out my very first Hojo smut. Thank you so much for requesting this, I’m so excited!!!]

~Impatient~

-Yu Hojo smut-

Impatient- restlessly eager

You trailed up and down the confines of the underground base of the Hassaikai, carelessly running your fingers along the walls while being careful to not run into Overhaul as well. It wasn’t like he’d ban you after all. You had a certain charm about you that made you too likeable towards all the people you interact with. This was why you probably landed Hojo but also why his boss allowed you to visit him so often while working. No one seemed to say anything bad to you because they all had a good opinion of you. Perhaps it was a quirk (or maybe its just y/n fanfic ability yknow). This being said, yet and still you didn’t feel like hearing a long-winded lecture from Overhaul about why the walls had filth and why you shouldn’t be touching them so carelessly.

You sighed in bordem before heading west in search of Hojo. When you found him you immediately went to annoy the shit out of him.

It was your favorite past time after all.

“C’mon Y/N, I know it’s you so just cut the shit already.” He groaned in annoyance while you used your fingers to pretend to walk across his head. “It’s bald as hell. It’s like the moon without craters or a milk dud that someone sucked all the chocolate off of.” You teased him and he sighed. Hojo stood up and quickly towered over you (unless you’re tall af, then disregard this reader), enclosing you between his arms after placing both palms on either side of you on the wall. You simply smirked at him unbothered and he shook his head. “Why do you gotta be so damn annoying all the time, huh?” You knew he was annoyed but not upset. Despite being so well-received by those around you, you were still a nuisance sometimes. A menace to society but he loved it. “Cut the shit and go sit over there in the corner until I’m done will yah?” He moved away from you and dropped down to the floor to finish the repairs on the vent he was working on. You darted your tongue out to his turned back and flipped him off with double fingers before turning to sit in the chair across the room from him. After a while of mindlessly scrolling on your phone and rereading the same page of a book over and over again, you could feel yourself almost melting away from the bordem of it all. There was literally nothing else to do but to fuck with him. Usually when you were here, it wasn’t so boring. Sometimes he would even allow you to help with business to which Overhaul was keen on allowing the extra hands working for free as well. But today was just one of those dead days you suppose.

You were plotting on the next way you could pull him from his work until you noticed your eyes getting drawn more and more to his upper back. The direction of your appeal dramatically shifted when he stood up to take off his shirt for a moment. He kneeled back down and started working again while you started to drink in the sight in front of you. Muscles clenching while a thin veil of sweat began to appear, no doubt from the work. His cologne was wafting its way through the room and the nail in the coffin was the way he grunted when he finally got a bolt unscrewed from it’s spot. “Damn thing...” Hojo grumbled as he worked away. Now it was too much for you so you found a way to get his attention in the most annoying way possible. You started slipping off clothes. By the time you finished, he peeked back at you to see why you were so quiet. His eyes caught your form to check that you were still sitting there. Then he turned back to his work before swiftly turning back around and staring. He dropped his tools and immediately scooped up your clothes with one arm and pulled you gently yet firmly with his other.

Hojo lead you quickly to a utility closet and glared at you. “ Y/N have you lost your mind! Put these back on right now!” He whisper yelled. You laughed quietly and began tracing his broad chest with a single fingers. “Oh? Why should I? You took your shirt off so I figured it must be a party.” You teased him and he groaned. “Stop fucking around before someone catc-” His words got stuck in his throat when he noticed your knee had travelled up his leg and was resting comfortably against his junk. You pressed into him for good measure and his fists clenched. “Hojo?” You gazed up at him with a type of false innocence. In all honesty it was insulting that you were trying to pretend to be a sweetheart right now when you were literally making him hot and bothered.

At work of all places, nonetheless!

It was hard to trace exactly where things shifted, but now you were bent over in the cramped closet while he was slowly pushing in and out of you. The space warranted just enough for him to pound you but this was just his way of torture for you behavior. “H-hojo please...” He smirked at just how compliant you’ve become to behave when cumming was on the line of it all. “Oh now you want to be good for me? I don’t think that’s gonna fly with the way you acted today.” It was his turn to tease as he slowly slid into you all the way until your hips met. His grip on your ass was firm, and he leaned down every so slightly to nibble at your neck just the way you liked it, before he pulled back slowly and repeated the process. “Hojo...please I can’t~” He ignored your plea and kept the pace strict, relishing in the way you shivered and begged for him. Hojo was considering fucking you harder when suddenly the door swung open. Poor Irinaka was just looking for the damn mop but instead he caught an eyeful. “Look you two, as much as I enjoy the free show in front of me could yah please get a fucking room, ugh!” He groaned and rushed out of the room leaving you two to scatter and get yourselves together. You were lucky it was Mimic that found you instead of Nemoto. Surely he would’ve snitched to the boss immediately lol.

“Where do you think you’re going huh?” Hojo grabbed your arm on the way out of the room. You were heading to get something to munch on when he met your eyes with the most lust you’d seen him carrying in a while. “I just want you to know I get off in about 30 minutes. When we get home, I’ve got a real situation in store for you~”

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

Instagram: @pastelbattydraws & @pastelbattystore

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRNMJH7vHL7APNobUykhK4w?view_as=subscriber

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha hojo #yu hojo #shie hassaikai #yakuza #eight precepts of death #eightfold cleansers #eight bullets #eight expendables

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missnmikaelson-main · 4 years

Text

National Anthem

1. March 3, 2020

I do not own The Vampire Diaries or The Originals

She balled up a sheet of paper and spun in her desk chair, taking her best shot at the recycling bin in the next cubical where it bounced off the desk, teetered dangerously on the thin blue ledge and toppled into the bin.

“Yes,” she threw up her hands in a quiet cheer.

“What was wrong with your recycling bin?” Caroline replaced the phone in its cradle and spun around, glaring across the aisle at her best friend.

“No challenge,” she shrugged, speaking up to be heard over the cacophony of sounds. It was necessary to raise her voice for a decent conversation since dozens of people busy on phone calls, and the constant clack of keys made up the newsroom’s soundtrack.

“You seriously need a new story,” Caroline shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Preferably before I get hit in the head by a ream of paper.”

“I’ve only been idle a couple minutes,” she laughed.

“GILBERT!”

“Oh look,” she grinned, rising from her chair, “a new story.” She slipped through the rows of cubicles, pausing only long enough to look back over her shoulder and catch Caroline sneaking across the aisle. “Don’t mess with my system, Care.”

“Your system is a mess,” she called back.

Elena knew what her friend would find in her workspace, just like she knew how it would make her brain pop. And the mini aneurysms it caused to Caroline were more than worth the extra ten minutes of searching for a pen every day.

“What’s up?” She slipped into the conference room and dropped into one of the plain chairs across from her boss.

“New assignment,” Reese nodded, eyes crinkling when Caroline’s strangled shriek broke over the mess of sounds. “Before you go you’re gonna want to clean up that desk.”

“It’s so much more fun to make Caroline stare at it though,” she laughed, knowing the second she actually left the office her best friend would strike. By the time she returned her desk would be organized, colour coded, and would strictly adhere to the Forbes method that she still couldn’t believe the blonde had patented.

“It might be amusing Gilbert, but without you running interference Forbes will implode and I don’t want to deal with the mess.”

That caught her attention and she perked up, drawing her shoulders back. She had known Caroline since they were kids and it took more than a day to reach impending implosions.

“Where exactly am I going?” She tilted her head.

Reese pushed his glasses up his nose and raked his greying hair from his eyes; thirty-nine years old and his sandy brown hair had been all but taken over by grey. Elena did not envy him the job.

He opened a file folder and flipped a glossy sheet of paper around. She stared at it for a moment before lifting the sheet and a single eyebrow.

“Kol Mikaelson?” She swallowed, hoping her voice didn’t strain under the name.

“I’m given to understand you have a Mikaelson in your friend’s list,” Reese leaned back in his chair.

“You stalking my Facebook page Reese?” She fingered the edges of the page.

“I stalk all my employees Facebook pages, Gilbert.” He rolled his eyes and played with a pen. “That’s how I know Forbes had a dalliance with mayoral candidate Lockwood as well as an off and on thing with another Mikaelson, your ex is running on the republican ballot and one of your nearest and dearest friends is Rebekah Mikaelson. You have an in.”

“I wouldn’t call Rebekah an in,” her eyes narrowed. “She’s my friend. And I do have a good rapport with her brothers, but that has nothing to do with her, and everything to do with meeting them all at various stages in my past.”

“I don’t care how your ‘in’ came about Gilbert. The point is you’ve got one, and we’re gonna exploit it.” He turned another portrait around, this one a full colour depiction of a man who may or may not have popped into her dreams on more than one occasion. “You’re joining the campaign trail.”

“The election is in seven months,” Elena frowned, “and I thought you had Davina Claire on the campaign trail?”

“Davina dropped out and we need another reporter on the bus, taking interviews, covering rallies, finding the skeletons in the closet to report anonymously.”

“Skeletons?” Elena arched an eyebrow.

“Or gossip, if you like,” Reese amended. He poked the portrait with his pen, leaving a blue dot on the pristine white shirt. “The entire country has it’s eyes on him. He’s the youngest candidate with an actual shot at winning this race, but nobody knows anything about his personal life. No known girlfriend, or boyfriend. We know about his political views and stance at this point; I want you to get me something more.”

“Something more?” She frowned, unable to shake the feeling that he wanted career ending dirt. Granted she did know some, but it had more to do with his older brother than him, and even if she had a thought to utilize it - which she didn’t - then the words would never make it to print. Still, better her than someone who would actually dig.

“Mikaelson was elected representative at twenty-five, senator at thirty, and now he’s poised to be the youngest president on record, beating JFK out by eight years. He’s the baby of the house and nobody has ever found dirt on him.”

“Since when are we a gossip rag?” She sighed and stood up. “When do I leave?”

“Campaign swings through Virginia tomorrow. Davina will get off and you’ll get on.”

++++

“Am I really going to need that?” Elena glanced in the mirror as she packed her makeup and various toiletries in the bag.

“You’re going away for six months,” Caroline rolled her eyes. She carefully zipped the blue dress into a garment bag.

“I’m reporting, Care,” she hurried out, dropping her kit into her suitcase. “That’s not a professional dress.”

“No, it’s a date dress,” the blonde nodded, selecting shoes from the closet. “Six months on a bus, in various hotels, with other reporters and one smoking hot senator; you might want to go on a date.”

“Why did you include the Senator in that list?” Elena opened the top drawer of her dresser and grabbed a handful of lace and silk. She dropped it into her open suitcase just to drive Caroline nuts.

“Because you have the hots for him,” she started sorting through the scraps of lace without a word about the disorder. “And according to Bekah, he’s got the hots for you.”

“Nothing’s going to happen between me and Kol Mikaelson,” Elena sighed. She took more time folding her work clothes to avoid wrinkles, but sweats and lounge ware were thrown in indiscriminately.

“Famous last words,” Caroline sang.

“Care, I’m serious,” she moved to her desk to sort out her computer and various cords. “He’s a presidential candidate, and I’m a reporter for an online newspaper taking a serious stab at becoming a genuine gossip rag. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“Whatever you say.”

++++

Her bags were safely stowed in the bus and she was doing her level best to not think about the second handful of lace Caroline had tossed in when she thought Elena wasn’t looking. It was like she had forgotten the last time Elena dated someone involved in politics.

Not that Kol was anything like Damon, but still an oath was an oath and no old crush was going to make her break it. She had sworn there would be no more politicians.

She drew a deep breath in and let it out, stepping towards the doors as a tiny brunette exited the bus. No matter how old Davina got she always seemed to resemble a porcelain doll. The innocent eyes were an act though; Davina could be as devious as anyone.

“Hey,” Elena greeted, offering her a quick one-armed hug. The girl was devious, but she was an acquaintance through work and nice enough that it would have felt weird not to offer a hug.

��Hey,” she nodded. There was an unguarded look in her eyes that made Elena’s heart thump.

“So,” she rocked back on her heels, adjusting her hold so the computer bag was in front of her. “What exactly happened?”

“What do you mean?” Davina slung her bag higher on her shoulder.

“With you,” she clarified, chewing her cheek. “You’ve been on the trail for months and suddenly you’re dropping out.”

“Let’s just say that he’s not what he presents himself to be,” Davina pursed her lips. “Take a bite if you like. You won’t regret it.”

“Take a bite?” Elena’s eyes widened, though why she wasn’t sure; it was hardly surprising. Well - she conceded, glancing over Davina quickly - maybe a little surprising.

“Sorry,” she shrugged, “non-disclosure agreement; I can’t say anymore.”

And she didn’t.

Elena watched as the young woman strode away from the bus. When she was out of sight and most of the people onboard had stepped off to stretch their legs Elena hopped up the stairs and spun into the narrow aisle.

She had thought it would be a narrow aisle. It wasn’t. There was a decent amount of space to walk and more than enough seats for people to spread out if they wanted; they were empty at the moment and so held little interest to her.

At the back of the bus, lounging in his seat and reading through some sort of legal document sat the Senator. There was a layer of scruff over his jaw and a deep furrow between his brows. She knew that furrow, and she had dreamed of that scruff.

If there had been more people on the bus she might have thought through her next act, but as it was just the two of them and the driver who was well beyond earshot she strode down the aisle, dropping her bag into an unoccupied seat. She followed and plopped down across from him.

He looked up as she crossed her legs, and if anyone asked her, her toes brushing his pant leg was accidental and he was definitely not giving her his trademark panty dropping smirk that made her actually consider dropping them.

And she was not going to have to change them.

He was not affecting her with his mere presence.

“Hello, darling, fan-“

She cut him off before he could get out the full greeting, knowing it would be best to have the information out in the open from the get go. And if her eyes narrowed and her nails dug into the leather arms then, well, there was nobody around to corroborate his story.

“You fucked Davina Claire, didn’t you?” It wasn’t a question. They both knew it wasn’t a question.

Kol closed his file folder, set it aside and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.

And Elena did not, under any circumstances, lean forward too so she was mirroring him, but again, nobody was there to contradict her statement.

“Now darling,” he smirked, tilting his head, “if I didn’t know any better I’d day you were jealous.”

“Jealous?” She scoffed, and it was in no way high pitched.

“Technically no, and she meant nothing to me,” he shook his head.

“Why would I care what she meant to you?” Elena’s lashes fluttered, brushing her cheekbones.

“I just thought you might,” he shrugged, letting his fingers brush against her knee. “If she did mean anything it would have been over the second she was found compiling incriminating information. That’s the thing about reporters.”

“I could so easily take offence to that,” Elena peaked up through her lashes. Caroline might have labeled it as flirting, but she was not flirting with him.

“You’re different,” his knuckles trailed down her calve and back up, slipping under the hem of her skirt and moving down again.

And dammit, she was definitely gonna have to change. He was too sexy for his own good.

“Bet you say that to all the girls,” she breathed.

“Only you darling,” he caught the edge of her skirt, letting his fingers dance over the material. His smouldering gaze flickered between her eyes and lips.

And she did not lick her bottom lip or lean closer. There was not a flush creeping up her neck.

“Kol,” her cool breath fanned over his chin.

“Elena,” his nose brushed hers.

She could practically taste his spearmint gum.

“We should…” she swallowed, reaching out to curl her fingers around his tie. “We should… should really keep this professional.”

“When have we ever been professional?” His large hands covered her knee and reached for her elbow.

Elena’s stomach trembled, years of tension threatened to break in that moment and she was more than willing to toss her little oath out the bus window. No politicians was all well and good, but that had been before she was in his presence again and well before she felt the magnetic pull that drew her into his orbit.

Where would they have been if she’d just given in and kissed him that first summer when the attraction began? Would things have fizzled out fast, or would he have taken a different path that didn’t leave a trail of broken hearts and NDAs?

She wanted to know what it felt like, what he felt like.

“Elena,” he rubbed his thumb over her thigh, “should I stop?”

“I…” She breathed slowly.

“Sir, the car is here.”

Elena jumped at the gruff voice of the driver. She had completely forgotten the man was there, but Kol clearly hadn’t if the way he smoothly thanked him was an indication.

“Going somewhere?” She managed to lean back, putting a gaping distance between them that made her feel cold.

“Not without you,” he stood, holding out a hand.

“Kol,” she started to shake her head.

“Come on, darling,” he smiled, watching her expectantly, “I’m on my way to a family dinner to celebrate and you’re coming with me.”

++++

She barely made it into the ambiance lighting of the restaurant before her eyes rolled, showing a glimpse of the specials board and cozy bar of which she knew every inch and featured in several pictures that lined the walls.

“Really?” She cocked an eyebrow as he lead her between tables and booths. “This is how y’all decided to celebrate.”

“Have you noticed that when you’re adorably exasperated your accent thickens?” He chuckled.

“I do declare that I don’t know what you’re referrin’ to,” she adopted her thickest southern drawl. “I have no accent.”

“Oh bloody hell,” he sighed. “You’re going to do this all night aren’t you?”

“It’s possible,” she grinned. “Seriously though, the Grill.”

“I had a hankerin’,” he made an attempt at her accent.

“That’s really bad,” Elena laughed, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth.

“Elena?”

She turned around to face the table; the question gave way to a happy squeal and the next moment she had a face full of silver blonde hair. Rebekah hugged, squeezing until she felt certain she would pop, and she hugged her right back.

“Hey Bex.”

“Elena,” Elijah stood, nodding his greeting and casting a questioning glance towards his brother, “how are you?”

“I’m finer than a frog hair split four ways,” she chirped, backing up from Rebekah as Kol groaned. That would teach him to mock her accent.

“What?” Amusement flickered through Elijah’s normally stoic eyes.

“Forgive me, Elijah, I fear the quirky expressions are my fault,” Kol cleared his throat.

“Damn skippy,” Elena grinned.

Kol shook his head, pulling out her chair with a fond smile on his lips.

She folded her skirt beneath her and took the seat, smiling as Rebekah sat on one side of her. The fine hairs on her arms rose when Kol sat on her other side.

“Let me guess,” Rebekah tossed her hair over her shoulder, “Kol made some crack about your accent and now you’re punishing him for it.”

“That was the plan,” she crossed her legs under the table and shook off the drawl she’d adopted.

“Don’t take this the wrong way Elena,” Freya lifted her water glass, “because we all love you, but what are you doing here?”

“Kol dragged me,” she shrugged. Somewhere in the restaurant a flash went off as somebody took a photo behind them.

“Elena is taking over Davina’s spot on the campaign trail,” Kol supplied, offering a slightly better explanation.

“So you write for Davina’s publication?” Finn passed the menus to her and Kol.

“Technically I’ve worked there longer,” Elena took it with a smile even though she knew, as did everyone else at the table, that she didn’t actually need it.

“If anything we should say it was Davina working for Elena’s publication,” Rebekah rolled her eyes, saying the former reporter’s name with a grimace that suggested the syllables left a foul taste on her tongue.

“I assume your sense of integrity is better ingrained than the Claire bitch,” Klaus spoke up.

“Klaus,” Freya scolded with no real passion behind it.

“Don’t ‘Klaus’ me, sister,” he rolled his eyes.

“Davina spent months gathering information in an attempt to gain dirt on this family,” Rebekah leaned closer, placing her hand over Elena’s wrist as she whispered in a voice that didn’t carry beyond their table.

“And we’re trusting that you’ll do a better job than your predecessor,” Freya sighed, putting Klaus’ words into a politer phrase.

“Of course,” Elena smiled sweetly while reaching for her water glass. “I’ve known y’all fifteen years. Trust me when I say I won’t spend my time digging up dirt and searching closets for skeletons,” she swallowed the cool liquid, watching as Kol got a good mouthful before continuing. “I’ve already got plenty on all of y’all.”

She had been hoping for a short sputter. Maybe some water down his shirt or across the table, but he just laughed softly.

“Then I suppose it's a good thing most of what you’ve got incriminates you too, love,” Klaus chuckled.

There was a round of laughter that tapered off when Vickie stopped by the table for their orders. As predicted nobody bothered opening the menus. At that point in their lives when they went to the Grill it was because they had a ‘hankerin’.

Under the table a hand rested on her left leg and it was most certainly not making her throb. His fingers were not driving her crazy with need and she was not thinking about creative excuses and subtle clues that would put both of them in the dimly lit restroom.

“I’ll have my usual Vickie,” she managed to keep her voice level. He brushed the smooth skin where her legs met and she squeezed her thighs tight together; his back and forth stilled as his nail gently tickled her garter.

The conversation continued around her for a moment as Vickie left to take their orders to the kitchen.

She glanced through the corner of her eye. He had his eyes focused on Elijah as his brother asked question after question but his finger continued to play with her garter. She dangled on the precipice with her decision.

And damn it if she hadn’t been in this position before. It seemed every time they met his hands found their way to her body or hers landed somewhere on his, but one of them always stopped before anything actually happened; either for Rebekah’s no-screwing-my-friends/brothers rule, or because one of them was involved. There was one thing she could genuinely say about Kol Mikaelson; he might have been a womanizer and a playboy but he was not a cheater.

One fling at a time.

Their fling had been years in the making.

Silently she unfolded her legs, and sensed the surprise in his hand as he turned to look at her for a split second, covering the moment with a quick question about Klaus’ work.

She arched an eyebrow in silent challenge because honestly she grew really tired of denying her attraction to him. Not that she was attracted to him, or his damn smirk, or lickable abs.

Were they as defined as the last time she had seen them?

The conversation flowed around them; she took it in turns to respond and ask questions at the appropriate moments. And his hand, his damn hand, made its way upwards, steadily gaining ground with each passing second.

“So what exactly are we celebrating?” Elena reached up, tucking her hair behind her ears. The side of his hand brushed her damp panties.

“What’s not to celebrate?” Kol countered with a brilliant smirk, under the table he moved down her leg and went back up, brushing her centre again.

And she did not curl her toes up tight to stop her hips from chasing his fingers.

Her eyes flickered to Vickie when she dropped by the table with glasses of champagne.

“You said you were celebrating something, and dragged me here for it, so I assumed there was something specific,” she eyed the flute of sparkling liquid when Vickie placed it in front of her.

“There’s always something to celebrate, isn’t that right Vickie?” Kol turned his smirk on the waitress and she blushed.

Rebekah had the decency to wait for Vickie to leave before scoffing and catching her brother in a glare. Like Elena before her, she waited until he had taken a sip of water in the hopes that he would sputter and spit it up.

“You’ll fuck anything that moves.”

“Rebekah, please,” Finn closed his eyes, as if that would tone out his siblings laughter.

Kol’s composure rivalled Elijah’s when he wanted it too, so he swallowed calmly and turned, winking at Elena as his fingers reached the apex of her thighs once more.

“There’s not much I can do when the attraction isn’t mutual, sister.”

Elena couldn’t be sure if it was the way he said ‘attraction’ or the pressure of his hand over throbbing centre, or that wink that would have made a less experienced girl swoon, but she blushed.

Thankfully everyone’s eyes were on Kol and Rebekah as they traded barbs and the light pink flush could easily be mistaken for makeup or a trick of the light.

“Celebrating,” Elena prompted, squirming in her chair. If his siblings asked about what was making her uncomfortable she would say it was being stuck between a bickering Kol and Rebekah.

Which was in no way a lie.

“Allow me to propose a celebratory toast,” Kol reached for his flute of champagne, lifting it in salute.

Dutifully she reached for her flute.

“To old friends,” he tapped the glass with Elena’s. And there was no doubt he was talking about her.

“And winning the primaries,” Klaus arched an eyebrow. His critical eyes flicked between Kol and Elena.

“Oh yeah,” he conceded, “that too.”

Elena sipped her champagne and said absolutely nothing about the way his siblings were casting knowing glances at her. She even managed to make it through a further fifteen minutes of conversation before Kol had to take his hand away to pick up his utensils.

She did not roll her hips when he was gone, but she would admit that she was hot, and not able to focus on her food without glancing at his hands and feeling a tingle in her blood.

“Excuse me,” she folded her napkin and sat it on the table. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

On her feet she tried not to make a beeline for the restroom. Inside though she could admit that she was relieved to breathe in the cool air. She even closed her eyes and sucked a deep breath into her lungs. It wasn’t enough to cool her down though so she opened her eyes with the intention of splashing freezing water on her face.

Blue eyes met hers in the mirror.

She yelped, slapping her hand over her mouth as she spun around.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Her breathless voice lacked bite and it was all Kol’s fault. Kol, and his stupid dextrous fingers.

“What’s going on between you and my brother?”

Ah Rebekah, she sighed, queen of the segway.

“Nothing,” she lowered her hands to her sides.

“Really,” she tilted her head and stepped up close. Analytical eyes surveyed the light flush staining her throat and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “Because you’re flushed and it started when he winked at you after saying that crap about mutual attraction. Are you attracted to my brother Elena?”

“Of course not,” she denied, an easy reflex after doing it for years, but her breathless voice suggested otherwise. “He’s your brother.”

“Yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “The brother I had to warn again and again to leave you alone because he had it bad for you.”

“He had it bad for me?” She bit her bottom lip, tucking a dark curl behind her ear.

“Of course,” Rebekah scoffed, actually scoffed, “you’re hot. Anyone not attracted to you is an idiot.”

“Awe, thanks Bex,” she smirked, attempting to change the subject before the blonde could press further or accuse her of being aroused and sneaking off to take care of that. Which to be fair she was, but she hadn’t been considering slipping into a stall to finish what Kol started at the table. She had not. “You’re hot too.”

“I know I’m hot,” she rolled her eyes. “I had four big brother beating the boys off me,” she waved a hand. “You and Kol?”

Damn it, Elena sighed, spinning around to wash her hands. “Nothing is going on between me and Kol. I took over for Davina and he invited me to join you all tonight. That’s it.”

Rebekah did not need to know her brother was all but fingering her best friend under the dinner table, or that her best friend invited him to do it.

“Nothing?” Rebekah gave her a look in the mirror, suggesting she did not believe her for a moment.

“Nothing.”

Back at the table Klaus stared after Rebekah’s back while Elijah fixed their younger brother with an exasperated stare.

“What did you do?” Elijah pointed to his brother with his knife, and he was allowed to damn it. It wasn’t threatening his Senator, it was scolding his baby brother.

“What makes you think I did anything?” Kol glanced up from cutting his chicken.

“Don’t give us that you sly fox,” Finn rolled his eyes.

“She ran from this table with hell hounds on her heels,” Klaus mused.

“I haven’t done anything,” he popped the chicken breast in his mouth.

“So I shouldn’t start drafting another NDA?” Elijah arched an eyebrow.

Kol paused his chewing to fix his brother with a look that suggested the lawyer had grown an extra head. The idea that such a document might be necessary sounded ludicrous, and clearly not to just his ears.

“Don’t be ridiculous Elijah,” Freya spoke up, donning the robe of eldest sibling she so rarely utilized, “it’s Elena. And even if something happened Elena would never disclose anything.”

@kol-and-elena-fanfiction @elejahforever @elejah-wonderland @cry-btch @geekofmanyfandoms @morsmornte @xanderling @bellemorte180 @iw1shiknew @blndbandt

#elena gilbert #Kol mikaelson #Elena x kol #kolena #freya mikaelson #finn mikaelson #Elijah mikaelson #Klaus mikaelson #Rebekah mikaelson #Davina claire #Caroline forbes

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