#and how many times he repeats to himself that it won't give him enough satisfaction

[post-it-notes7]

he’s misinformed 

[amaryllisenvy]

The Ties That Bind

Part 6 Billy the Kid x OC

November 10th, 1876

Entering the dining room, Billy and his mother exchanged glances as he sat down. Her red eyes and faraway stare made him wish he could repeat the night before all over again. 

However, when his mother looked at him again, Billy dropped his gaze. She would be devastated to find out what he had done, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel remorse.

When the front door opened and Antrim walked through, Billy’s eyes never left him. The coward couldn’t even hold his stare and Billy felt no small satisfaction when Antrim’s gaze darted away first like a kicked puppy.

Every movement was slow and accented with a wince of pain when Antrim removed his coat. His mom watched the man she had married with the resigned look of someone who had been disappointed one too many times. 

Billy’s eyes met the ones belonging to the woman who raised him and his brother. This woman had put her sons first and herself last at every opportunity. A woman who married a monster out of what he could give to her sons. A roof over their heads and regular meals were enough for her to marry a demon.

When his mother looked at him again, Billy knew that she already found out. The look Billy must have had in his eyes, the fear Antrim had in his when he looked at Billy, and the shift in dominance in the home was palpable. 

“We have to talk.” Antrim’s voice was rough and dry. “The big property deal I was hopin’ to clinch fell through. We're in trouble. It seems I'm more in debt than I thought.” 

Billy rolled his eyes at what an abject failure the man was.

“But wouldn't the bank-” 

“The bank won't give me any more credit.” Antrim interrupting his mother had Billy’s fists clenching. “Took out some loans…they want to redeem ‘em.”

His mother’s voice was laced with so much desperation when she spoke. “What are we supposed to do?”

“We have to get away from this place.” 

“And go where?” 

“I don't know!” Antrim’s short fuse reared its ugly head.

Billy’s scathing glare had Antrim’s bark turn into a whine. Even this fool could see that he was living on borrowed time. Raising his voice at Billy’s mother was enough for a repeat of the night before. He wouldn’t let her live with disrespect in resignation ever again.

“Somewhere I can find a job.”

“And exactly what kind of job can you do… Antrim?” Billy spoke with contempt and slow enough for him to maybe understand.

The cheating drunk’s chubby cheeks reddened at Billy’s dig. His hands crushed his hat and he visibly gritted his teeth to hold back any retort. In his anger, Antrim pathetically punched the chair in front of him like a toddler releasing frustration.

Billy kept his eyes on Antrim as the man turned and retreated up the stairs, stomping extra loud so they knew he was having a fit. Billy knew his gaze was now that of a predator as he followed the man’s retreating form. The power shift was one that Antrim could feel in every corner of his home and Billy relished in it. He hoped the bastard didn’t get a good night’s sleep for the rest of his miserable life.

When the sound of the man’s steps disappeared, Billy had to stop himself from shattering the cup in his hand at the tears in his mother’s eyes.

He stood and pulled the chair that was beside her shaking form at the table. At her level, he caught her eye and placed his hand over hers.

“You don't have to go with him.” Billy’s voice was hushed, almost pleading.

“Yes, I do.”

Billy couldn’t believe how she would still stay with him after everything that happened the night before. Not only did Henry Antrim cheat on his mother with a woman she considered a friend, but he beat her because of his failures. 

“No, you don't.” It was difficult for Billy to keep his voice soft in his aggravation. “You don't have to stay with him.”

“Yes, I do. He's my husband and I married him under God.”

Fucking hell.

Being expected to remain in a marriage regardless of infidelity undermines autonomy and suggests that a woman’s value is tied solely to her marital status. His mother was so much more than her marriage to an absolute demon. The stress, anxiety, depression, and potential exposure to infections were not things his mother should live with for the rest of her life. Antrim did not keep his vows, so why should she?

“And I have to stay with him.” 

“You don't!” Billy loosed a breath and tampered down his anger until all he felt was a deep agony; the same abundance of agony that could be housed in one person.

“I believe in the rights of the Catholic church, Billy. Nothing will change that.”

He ran his hands over his face and shook his head in disbelief. His mother’s eyes always held so much pain behind them ever since his father died. Now that it was as close to the surface as ever, he noticed just how dispirited his mother had become. She no longer laughed freely with him or Joe. 

“But…” she cupped his face lovingly and forced his gaze to hers, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don't have to come with us.”

Billy couldn’t believe that she would even suggest that as an alternative. Thinking he would leave his mother and brother alone with that abusive scum had him furrowing his brows in disbelief.

With the most resolve he had ever spoken with, he placed his forehead against hers and shut his eyes tightly. “Yeah, I do.” 

He held her as she cried and fell apart in his arms. Billy then knew just how powerless he was when it came to protecting his family.

_____________

Billy’s mother had forced him to leave the house after breakfast. Knowing that being in the same house with Antrim only a floor above meant that he couldn’t shake the need to wrap his hands around the man’s throat.

He wasn’t cognizant of where he was going and simply walked. He walked past shops and people he had seen almost every day for five years with heavy shoulders and an even heavier heart.

Billy only came back into consciousness when he climbed the steps to the boarding house. He spotted Mr. Upson almost immediately and instinctively looked at the surrounding seats for his companion.

Seeing Mr. Upson alone, Billy ambled over slowly. The man read a newspaper and sipped his whiskey absentmindedly, not noticing Billy until he was only a couple of feet away.

As always, Upson greeted him with a bright smile. “Morning, Billy.”

Billy gave him a small smile in greeting and sat across from his new companion. “We have to leave here. Antrim got made bankrupt.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Billy believed he genuinely was. “Where will you go?”

“Antrim says he needs a job.” 

“Uh-huh.” Upson tried his best but failed at hiding his large amount of amusement. “Well, the fact is, I'm leaving here too.” 

For the first time that day, Billy felt like there might be a small sliver of hope for something better. “You are?”

Mr. Upson’s smile melted from his face. “I am. My life has been threatened. There are some times, Billy; when the threats are empty. This isn't one of them.”

“By who?” Billy moved from his chair to one closer and lowered his voice to barely above a whisper.

“I think it would take less time to find who it’s not. Now, I often am not worried. But when they begin threatening people who mean a great deal to me, the threats become less idle. If it were just my life I needed to worry about, chances are I would be less cautious.” Upson furrowed his brow and concentrated on lighting his cigar with the candle on the table. “I am not.”

“Did they threaten Amaryllis?” He already knew the answer.

“Yes. I’m a journalist, not a gambler. Going broke was not an option.” 

Billy hadn’t pushed to know what Amaryllis’ relationship was with Mr. Upson. He seemed brotherly and he trusted the signs she was giving him. There was a part of her that had to want him too. She wasn’t the type of person to be unsure of her feelings from what he could tell.

When he imagined how she had brushed his hair from his forehead, held onto his arm, and seemed as reluctant to break their stare as he was, he felt very sure. She was also very mindful of every move she made. Amaryllis knew just how to pull the strings of every guy she batted her eyelashes at. She could get by on charm alone.

“So, you are giving up on your investigation?”

Ash Upson’s gaze never left Billy’s as he leaned forward to emphasize his words. “Such threats only make me more determined to expose these stinking dogs for what they are.”

Billy didn’t suppress his smile. He expected no less from a man with a constitution as strong as Upson’s. Thinking of her again, he saw how similar she was to the journalist. It made him wonder how long they had known one another. Amaryllis mirrored Upson’s vocabulary and rhetoric. While they were both highly educated, their similarities seem more likely to be an effect of the length of time they have been together.

“Where are you two gonna go?” 

“Well, I've been offered a job in Silver City. It's a mining town but it's getting pretty prosperous; new businesses of all kinds are springing up.” Upson took out his half-smoke cigar out of the ashtray and lit it for Billy. “Maybe even Antrim can find himself an occupation.”

Billy huffed a laugh before inhaling from the cigar. He instantly regretted it as his lungs felt like they were on fire. He coughed for what felt like forever before he was able to see through his teary eyes.

Instantly giving the cigar back to Upson, he laughed along with the man. “It’s not for everyone. Maybe Amary can share some of her native hemp. It’s much easier on the lungs and the effects are a bit stronger. Naturally, because things are flourishing, the people running the rings will be moving to Silver City as well.”

“Mr. Upson, what is Amaryllis’ role in all of this?”

“She is a victim of the corrupted system, just like you and I. The man who shot your friend, there are so many out there like him. She has seen them and it’s been enough exposure for her to want to stand up for what she thinks is right.” 

Billy agreed. There didn’t need to be a dog in the fight for her to care about others. That much seemed evident from what she had done for Carlos.

“What is it you want to be, Billy? You can't work tables and play poker forever … or can you?” 

“No,” He shook his head vehemently. “I’m not doing that forever.”

“Well, it’s possible you might just find yourself a future in Silver City. The railroad is going there. Apart from the mines, there are big cattle herds and open ranges all over

the county. It's like America's ‘last frontier’. Out there, you can be anything you want to be, given the courage to try.”

Billy cleared his throat. “I reckon you got a lot of courage yourself, Mr. Upson.”

“I don't know, Billy.” Upson leaned back and took a drag off of his cigar. “Sometimes I think courage is just the honesty to recognize your own weakness and then do something about it.”

___________

Billy's lungs filled with the cold air and he held it there as he stood on the threshold of his front door. If he saw Antrim there, he needed to compose himself before, during, and after if he were to have any hopes of not repeating the night before. The man was such a fucking waste of every resource he sucked up like a parasite. Anytime he imagined the man he had lived with for half a decade, he remembered how he had been cheating on his mother the entire time.

Billy couldn’t shake the image of his mother shattered at the thought of his adultery. The heartbreak of losing his father had been devastating but Billy knew she remained strong out of necessity. She needed to do right by her sons and she did.

A man like Antrim was uniquely fortunate to have caught his mother at her most desperate time. If Billy could ever find a way to dig them out of the shit they were in, he wouldn’t hesitate. He wanted to give her the world. Billy’s only fear was that the world his mother wanted more than likely died along with his father.

His brows furrowed as he heard his mother’s laugh. At first, he thought he imagined it. He hadn’t heard her laugh freely for what felt like centuries. Pushing open the front door, he followed the voices to the dining room. He unconsciously walked carefully enough that the floorboards didn’t make a sound. 

“When I was pregnant with Billy, his father and I were traveling from Ireland on a ship. We took a chance and had heard enough about how the West was flourishing. We heard endlessly about all of the opportunities and the freedom.” Billy’s mother slouched and looked at her hands that were in her lap.

“I sometimes feel guilty for coming here…for putting our boys through what they have.” Billy felt his chest tighten and he held his breath.

His mother was so strong and had been for so long that he felt she deserved peace. She has earned it ten times over. Billy had to stop by the stairs to avoid being seen by his mother or, who he assumed, was Haiti.

For once, she was at ease. He realized the relief thinking of the past must have been. The feeling of hope and that they were doing right must have been one of the most inspiring times in his parents’ lives. A world full of opportunity waiting ahead; where their worst fears weren’t yet confirmed. America wasn’t seen yet as the hellhole it was.

“The sea is something I miss. Growing up on the coast of Ireland and falling in love with Billy’s father was my favorite part of my story. I feel like it ended there. And then we found out we were pregnant and I was so scared. Being on the sea with the morning sickness had been any woman’s worst nightmare. Not to mention the only food being slimy fish.”

“I don’t remember much of my journey here. My parents took me when I was three from Asia with the same hopes as you. I remember little of the journey but I know I felt seasick the whole time. Despite that, I still fell in love with it.” Billy’s blood turned into ice chips in his veins as his mother’s companion finally spoke. 

What was she doing here? In his home?

“I…” Amaryllis seemed to second-guess herself as she stopped.

“No, please. This is the most normal conversation I have had in months. It feels like a breath of fresh air.” Billy’s mother almost begged.

He longed to be that for his mother; The one she could talk to without having the responsibility of parenting at the same time. She wouldn’t ever fully tell Billy what was going through her head because that’s what mothers do. They put on an impossibly brave mask for the ones they love.

“I just…” Amaryllis picked up a glass from the table; even a glimpse of only her hand had his stomach warm. “I’m sorry if this is improper. I just remember the first time I saw your son. It was his eyes that looked like the Pacific. Every time I see them now, it’s grounding. I didn’t think I could distinguish shades of blue so well until yesterday.”

Is that why she always has such intense eye contact? Was she thinking of her home?

Without hesitation, his eyes latched onto the glinting wedding ring of her mother’s. 

“It amazes me how handsome my sons are. They look so much like their father.” Amaryllis rested her hand over his mother’s when she looked down as if the waves of pain became too unbearable for a moment. 

Living with a person immersed in grief is like dwelling beside a living river. Sometimes, they meander gently like a serene creek winding through tranquil mountains. Other times, their emotions relentlessly delivered lashes like a tempestuous ocean storm. 

His mother would work late hemming clothing. On several occasions, Billy sat on the stairs and listened to her sobbing quietly. Some nights, she would fall asleep in the early hours of dawn. Billy would always be sure to place her blanket around her and place more logs in the fire. 

“Kathleen, you’ve raised incredible young men.” Amaryllis came into view as she moved to the seat right next to the shaking woman. 

Her slender arms wrapped around the crying older woman who choked out. “He would have been so proud of both of them. If only he could see how far his little shadow has come. How Billy would be taller than him if he were here. I wish he could see how we did raise perfect little boys, despite everything we had gone through.”

“I think your husband is closer to you than you think. Above all else, I know he can feel how good their souls are. He would be so proud of the woman he loves. I know he must feel so much pride when he sees what you have been able to nurture.” 

Billy felt like an imposter. He didn’t feel as though he deserved her praise. He wasn’t sure if his father would be proud of him. Maybe he hated him for allowing his mother to marry Antrim. 

“That’s very kind, thank you. And thank you for the basket. I’ll be sure Billy knows.” 

Amaryllis stood up with his mother. “No need to do that. It’s just a gift. I owe him and this is the least I can do before I leave.”

The women hugged one another tightly and, when Amaryllis went to move away, his mother cupped her face and kissed her forehead in a motherly way. The younger woman’s face flushed but her smile was wide. 

Billy found himself wondering how it would have been if he also had a sister. Maybe his mother would have someone to talk to. The thought had him recognizing the unfairness. Society deprives him of his mother's friendship because men aren’t supposed to care. Because she had been conditioned to believe that he didn’t have time for her thoughts.

“I’ll walk you out, sweet girl.” 

Billy held his breath as he silently stepped from the foyer into the dining room, then the kitchen. His mother and her companion exited from the other end. He listened as their steps went to the front door.

It took everything in him not to speak out and talk to her again. It took every ounce of willpower as he desperately wanted to run after her like a lovesick little boy. But, he first wanted to check in on his mother.

He also did not want Amaryllis to know that he had overheard their conversation. While her mortification might be amusing for him, he didn’t want to benefit at her expense. She was fairly outspoken for a young woman and her education must have been exceptional. 

But, she was also a serial overthinker. This would be his secret. He loved the look into her thoughts about him when he wasn’t around. Maybe she was just being sweet but Billy didn’t find himself caring at the moment. 

She loved his eyes?

Billy spoke out only when he was sure Amaryllis had left by the closing of the front door. “Ma?”

“Billy.” He never wanted to grow out of his love for his mother.

Billy was eighteen but still relished in his mother’s affection like an infant. When she entered the kitchen and gave him a large hug and a kiss on his cheek, he embraced her back.

“How are you?” He pulled away to look at her tired eyes.

“I’m good, Billy. I’ve started organizing what we are taking with us and what we are leaving.” Her face was pained.

The only thing he could think to do was to smile reassuringly. “Don’t worry, ma. We’ll make new memories.”

At this, a smile graced her face. He saw maybe the smallest glimmer of hope in her eyes before it faded into a grin at something she just remembered. 

“A friend of yours just left.” She rushed excitedly to the counter where a big basket and what looked like a blanket sat. “You need to see it, Billy.”

She uncovered the contents and Billy looked at several small bags labeled with various vegetable types. There must have been two dozen eggs cushioned with loaves of bread wrapped tightly. Water skins were stacked on top of apples and other wrapped smaller items filled the basket whole.

“She’s leaving town and said she wanted to get rid of them anyway. Billy, this is enough for us to eat handsomely for quite a couple of days.” 

Billy talked with his mother who seemed genuinely elated and like there was less of a weight on her shoulders. The amount of leverage hunger had on the living, this basic need, was a parent’s worst fear. Ireland had been the same. Famine was a strong tool upper-class societies wielded without a second thought.

After ten minutes, Billy voiced how he had to see Carlos and he was able to leave without much delay. Billy didn’t run but his quick pace couldn’t be concealed as anything other than hurried.

He was a very tall young man with long legs. On the contrary, Amaryllis was quite literally the opposite. Her shorter stride had him catching up to her fairly quickly. She stood at a shop in the street and exchanged money with a woman. In return, Amaryllis took a stack of books from the table and stuffed them into her satchel.

“How long do you suppose those will last you?” Billy spoke.

He watched her beautiful face turn into a small smile. “Hopefully it will be ones I can read more than once. The trip to Silver City is going to be so long. I hate being on the road.” 

Amaryllis wasn’t at all surprised at his presence and didn’t even look at him until he took her bag from her uninjured shoulder and put it over his. In the light of the sun, her dark hair was illuminated and showed the tinges of red. He could tell how tired she was and had to suppress his irritation at her, once again, not giving herself time to heal.

The wind blew a piece of her dark hair errantly over her face and Billy didn’t hesitate to brush it out of her eyes. Her cheeks reddened and she froze for a moment. 

“Thank you.” Billy brushed his thumb over her cheekbone.

Amaryllis looked at him quizzically. “For?”

He hoped she could see how blatantly unamused he was by her antics. Her large doe-eyes fooled everyone around her. Acting aloof and helpless worked well for her. Women thought she was innocent and sweet; men thought she was compliant and a toy they wanted to get their hands on.

Visibly disappointed that he didn’t buy her playing dumb, she directed sarcastic ire his way. “It’s nothing. We have a lot of supplies and we need to get rid of it. We can’t save it all or it goes bad.”

“And because you both can’t take it all with you when you leave,” Billy stated. 

They walked side-by-side, their arms grazing each other’s occasionally. Billy didn’t remember personal space in her presence. It seemed like he just gravitated to her; like his heart wanted to be pressed to hers so tightly that not even air could be between them.

“You spoke with Ash, then.” It wasn’t a question. “That’s good. He’s better at explaining things than me.”

“You know who threatened you?” 

“Yes, and I know who he is close with. While it isn’t exactly surprising that the wealthiest people have complete control, it’s disheartening that people can just disregard others as soon as they are wealthy.” She shook her head in bitterness. “People who were poor and know too well how it feels to go hungry instantly turn into the monsters they loathed when they are given the monetary means to.”

Billy keenly felt her feeling of hopelessness. He remembered the newspaper cutouts his mother had early on in their journey. Brochures promising rich soil, modernized towns, and prosperity were thrown into the fire to ease the deep shake in their bones from the cold. His mother had sat with him and poured over those newspapers for hours until he knew how to read.

It took him a long while to understand how his unrealistic childish hope was fueled by those articles that were filled with grandeur. He had learned very young just how cruel humans could be to one another. 

After Carlos, Billy knew that the small amount of man-made pieces of currency he had in his pocket was more important than his life. The law in the land of the free seemed to favor the wealthy. His stepfather having any status when he met Billy’s mother was purely because of his wealth, not merit.

The falsehood of meritocracy in America was easily disproved by the number of workers who broke their backs and still received no social mobility. Billy didn’t understand how the poor were supposed to flourish when all of the profit went to the few on top.

He stopped on the bottom step and looked up at Amaryllis who stopped on the top stair. This difference made them eye level with each other. 

“You think a talentless man can find work where you are goin’?” They stopped walking and he leaned his forearm against the railing of the boarding house’s stairs. 

She looked at him with her brows furrowed. “I don’t think anyone is truly talentless. I do think there are a variety of opportunities that might be there as it is not well-established. Why do you ask?”

Trying to come off as unaffected as possible, Billy shrugged. “Antrim gambled away all of the money and the banks he got loans from are wanting to collect. He needs to find a job and there are none out here. None that he can manage to get, anyway.”

She studied his face. “You say ‘Antrim’? Is he not your father?”

“Christ’s no. My father was a good man.” The way her expression softened made him realize he wasn’t as good at hiding the vitriol in his eyes as he thought.

Her question had him also realizing that they knew very little about one another. It didn’t feel that way to him. There was just a soothing comfort that settled over him when they spoke. It felt like they had been friends for a long while.

His lips tilted upward slightly at the feeling. He wondered if she could see that in his eyes, too. Her gaze flicked to his mouth and she returned his small smile reflexively. Eyes lingering for only a moment on her lips, he noticed the dimples that formed on both sides.

“I think that Silver City will offer something different. There’s only one way to find out what kind of ‘different’ it will be.” She shrugged. “I also wouldn’t mind seeing a friendly face in such a strange place. Especially one as handsome as yours.” Something different, indeed.

[softboydrew]

sneak away and love me

warning: this piece has smut- oral sex

- long awaited first smut piece. pls don't bite my head off LMAO

Drew was in a predicament, a big one in fact.

You might wonder why, and it’s because of his girlfriend, who looks like molten sex appeal in a soft sugar cone while sitting on their shared towel with water droplets all over her newly tanned skin.

He watches her from afar as she innocently reads her newest beach read. He can’t help but smile at her, of course she’d try and get out of the water earlier than everyone else.

Which brings us back to why Drew mentally curses himself.

A weekend getaway with friends is always a good idea, but not when you want alone time with your girlfriend, and Drew hasn’t gotten any alone time with y/n since they arrived.

Granted, there hasn’t been time in between long beach days- to hourly dinners that lead to way too much overpriced wine, causing everyone including the couple to fall face first into their pillows.

“Who wants to go to the Airbnb and grab lunch?” Y/n says, snapping drew out of his sulky mood.

“I’m gonna stay” Maddie shouts back.

"Were good!" Rudy chimes in before turning around to splash the rest of your friends.

Drew looks around at their friends who shrug their shoulders, all of them still enjoying the refreshing water that helps them escape the heat.

Drew doesn’t even say anything while he feels himself splashing towards y/n, she’s sliding on her cotton shorts and smiling at him as she grabs her phone.

“You sure you don’t wanna miss water tag?” She says pointing towards her friends making him to crinkle his nose.

Y/n laughs, shaking her head at him before he grabs her small hand in his while they begin making their way back to the bungalow.

"I'd rather do something else" he says, licking his salty lips.

"I know, I'm starving!" she says, not catching the drift of his underlying comment. His lips tremble into a smirk at her innocence.

"Mhm" he hums.

-

"This sandwich has been calling my name all afternoon." Y/n chuckles as she reaches into the fridge to retrieve the sandwich in question. She garbs the bag of jalapeño chips from the cabinet and brings the food to the island counter, where her boyfriend sits, his fingers tapping impatiently against the marble.

"I bet." Drew says uninterested- sticking his tongue against his cheek as he watches her pop a chip into her mouth.

Y/n gives Drew a questionable look as she takes a bite out of her sandwich before looking around the large kitchen and back over at him. "Are you not going to eat?" she questions. "You didn't have to come here just for me, babe." she says, covering her mouth after swallowing her food.

"Oh I will, I'm just not in the mood for that." Drew says, making his way around the counter to stand next to his girlfriend who of course, has no idea what he's talking about.

"Okay, then get something else." she deadpanned. "I think we still have that potato salad in the fridge if you want."

Drew hums as he moves his body closer to hers and runs his finger tips against the back of her arm, causing a shiver up her spine as she reaches for the glass of water in front of her. "I don't want that either." he says quietly, making his way towards her damp hair, sliding it over her other shoulder.

Y/n's eyes widen once she realizes what her boyfriends intentions are and she can't help but scoff as she feels his lips fan against the back of her exposed neck. Drew kisses her shoulder while wrapping his arms around her hips, allowing his body to press against her in all the right places. He traces his lips up against her soft skin and y/n giggles, feeling his hot breath tickle against her neck as she leans back and feels his hardness from the instant contact of her lower back.

"What do you want then?" she asks, turning around in his hold, disregarding her half eaten sandwich.

"You're finally catching on?" he teases while gripping her hips between his large palms.

Y/n scowls at him making him chuckle and bite his lip as he watches her run her small hands up and down his torso. "Well, why didn't you just say so?"

Drew lets out a long huff and dips his head down towards her face level and presses his nose against hers, rutting his hips against hers in the process, causing y/n to let out a sharp breath. "Too many distractions." he groans before pressing his lips against hers forcefully.

Y/n's hands travel up towards his hair and griped onto the strands, earning a moan to escape her boyfriends lips. The way her body arched under his made him swell even more than he thought possible. The way her soft hands dug into his hair as they both explored each other's mouths with wonder like they haven't took in one another in a decade made the fire ignite in bottom of y/n's stomach, earning a whimper to escape from her now, red swollen lips.

Y/n's head fell back as Drew pushed her harder against the marble counter, his large hands gripping her hips in a addictive fashion. The thin fabric of her cotton shorts would be no match for the bruises she'd probably see tomorrow, but she didn't mind, she craved it as she felt him use his lips as a paint brush against the canvas of exposed skin. The sponges of kisses against her chest began to travel down, down, down her body and she sucked in a breath as she looked down to see her boyfriend drop to his knees, his face being level to her core.

"Not here." she croaked out, her hand flying to her chest in surprise as Drew smiled at how he's already got her mesmerized by his actions.

"C'mon, pretty girl."

Drew stands to his feet and chuckled as y/n immediately jumped into his arms eagerly. Wrapping her legs around him, causing him to let out a sharp inhale at the contact of her heat against his member. She swallows his sounds against her lips while he carefully maps out the way to the bedroom they shared. To their advantage, the bedroom was straight down the hall from the kitchen and with enough ease Drew managed to get the both of them behind the bedroom door without any hiccups. With smug satisfaction at the way y/n attacked his face and neck with sloppy kisses and teasing touches Drew let his girlfriend down onto her own feet and stood back to take in her presence.

"Thank God for no stairs." He says causing them to let laughter fill the bedroom as he gripped her shorts by his pointer finger, pulling her closer to him in the process.

"I can't believe you didn't trip or slam me into something." Y/n giggles making them both snort in remembrance of previous mishaps.

"Shut up!" Drew giggles as y/n watches him slide down her shorts, painfully slow causing her to press her lips together as they finally pool down at her feet.

She locks eyes with him as he backs her up towards the bed, a haunting smirk forming on his lips as he quickly pushed her onto the bed, a soft giggle falling from y/n as he crawls over her while she awkwardly shuffles towards the pillows. Blushes and bashfulness bubbling between them as Drew watched y/n's head fall back against the fluffy pillows.

"Come here" y/n pleads, clutching onto the back of his neck, forcing his lips onto hers greedily. Drew's body fits perfectly against y/n's and they both moan at the contact of his tongue finally meeting hers again causing Drew's hips to twist into hers, whimpers drown between the two of them. "P-please." she whines, her neck arching at the feeling of him pulse against the bottoms of her bikini.

Y/n's back arched painfully as Drew repeated his movements, the both of the gasping out as y/n gripped at his shoulders. "Please what?" he taunted as he roamed the palm of his hand against her chest, pinching her nipple earning a cry from y/n.

"Y-you know wh-what." she stuttered with her eyes snapped shut and her bottom lip between her teeth as she felt his hands drag down towards her bottoms. "Don't tease me." she snapped, feeling his ego pool around them.

Drew laughed as she opened her eyes and dug her nails into his shoulder blades, the sting making excitement jolt through his body before he decided to pull down her bottoms, throwing them across the room knowing that she'd have his head later for not being able to find them.

"I won't tease you." he finally said. "Not until you tell me what you want." he said darkly causing y/n to instinctively try and snap her legs shut at the raspiness of his voice causing his eyes to darken. "Speak." he ordered making y/n's legs give out from under her, her heat pulsing at each demanding word he spoke.

"I-" she sighed as her cheeks flushed under his hard gaze, "I- I want your mouth..." she let out an embarrassed chuckle.

Drew pressed his lips together noticing her lack of confidence, his hand traveling up her body and gripped her chin in his large hand, forcing her to look up at him. A smile in return made y/n's nerves quickly fade as she looked at her boyfriend who did nothing but adore her especially at her most vulnerable. "Where do you want my mouth?" he questioned lightly making y/n bite her lip and arch her hips against his. "Use your words baby." he said in amusement.

"I want your lips here." she whispered, gripping his hand a bringing it down towards her sex, Drew's mouth went agape as he watched her eyes roll back at the slight friction of his knuckles against her naked self. "I'm asking nicely." she said with excited eyes.

Without a word Drew pushed off of his elbows and crawled down against her, giggles filling the room once again as y/n watched him grip her curvy hips and trace his hands against her thighs and spread them open for him.

"Open for me pretty girl." His breath fanned against her bundle making her shiver and lay her hands on he head as she watched his eyes take in her state. Before she could even take another breath, Drew's lips hungrily found where she needed him most and her fingers dug into his hair painfully tight causing him to moan against her body.

The feeling of him vibrating against her caused y/n to let out a cry, her head falling to the side as her back arched against his lips while he explored her with gentle strokes of his tongue, her mind slipping away into pure bliss.

"Does that feel nice baby girl?" he groaned against her with flushed cheeks, his hunger finally being met as he tased her arousal.

"Yesyes!" y/n moaned not being able to breath in a pause as she felt his lips capture her bundle of nerves in ways that were villainous. "Don't stop, please let me-" she didn't even have the luxury of finishing her sentence as drew shoved her hips down back onto the mattress, hungrily finishing off what he had been craving all weekend long. The bedroom was now filled with moans that would make passerby's gawk and stop in surprise. Y/n didn't care, nor have the capacity to stop herself from the explosion of bliss she felt, her legs shaking as she felt her boyfriends palm rest against her mouth and encourage her to scream into his hand as he moved his other set of fingers into her entrance to allow, one, two, three fingers explore her in ways nobody ever could.

"Go ahead, I got you. I got you." he encouraged with words that dripped liked honey causing y/n's fire to burst, her back arching as her hand quickly moved to grip the duvet, her eyes snapping shut as waves thrashed around her, Drew's hand moving from her mouth to let her come undone as he gripped onto her hip and support her movements against his mouth, her noises dying into whimpers as she crashed against the mattress. "There you go, I told you I got you." he mused.

Pulling away from her center, y/n gulped at the loss of contact, her sleepy eyes opening to reveal her boyfriend crawling beside her now, his hand caressing her body as she smiled weakly at him. Drew's eyes filled will concern as she placed her hand against his bicep and nodded reassuringly. "Thank you." she whispered.

"You need anything?" he wondered.

"I'm perfect." she hummed happily.

Drew chuckles and leans towards y/n, kissing her lips tenderly earning a hum from y/n as she tastes herself on his lips. She moves her shaky hand towards the elastic of his swim trunks making him grip her hand as he sits up slowly. "It's okay, we can take a break." he says looking down at her.

"Are you sure?" she says running her hands up his arm tenderly.

Drew nods, bending down to retrieve a soft kiss, "Always." he promises. "Lets get you cleaned up, okay?" he nearly whispers as he stands from the bed and scoops y/n up into his arms, heading towards the ensuite as she let out soft giggles and thank you's.

"I can walk myself you know!" y/n chimed as he set her down on the tiled floor.

Drew flashed his bright smile her way as he turned on the hot water for the shower, kicking off his trunks and watching y/n slip off her top. "I like taking care of you though." he said cheekily, taking her hand and pulling her into the shower with him.

The two wincing at the satisfying warmth of the water. Y/n wrapped her arms around Drew as he grabbed the wash cloth and began cleaning her off, her cheeks tinted pink as she watched him lovingly.

"I don't think we're ever gonna go back to the beach if you keep treating me so good." y/n teased.

"I could go an extra round plus dessert." Drew winked.

[hardlyinteresting]

Matters of the mind, body, and soul

Laszlo Kreizler x reader

warnings: victorian ideals, discussions of sex (no smut), still 18+ to keep on the safe side, minors dni. the ending is open ended so feel free to imply what you like. potential spoilers for season 1 of the alienist. I also haven't edited this. if you know me, then no you don't please don't read this.

The pool house is eerily quiet as Laszlo makes his rounds reviewing the details of the crime scene. you follow silently keeping the bottom of your skirt lifted to avoid the possibility of blood stains. Lazlo follows invisible clues to one of the changing cubicles.

"what is it Laszlo?”

"l'm not sure yet" he mumbles.

you watch fascinated by the man in front of you.

"do you think something, or someone else stole his attention? He didn't complete his ritual on this poor boy" you offer.

"that's exactly what I am thinking” he says, reaching into the cubical with one hand running two fingers up the wall before bringing them to his lips. your breath catches in your throat you stomach turns in on itself and you can feel heat rush to your cheeks. Laszlo is kind enough to not mention the sound of your sharp intake of breath.

it's much later in the evening when you're back at the make shift office Sara set up.

Both Sara and John have gone home leaving Laszlo and yourself alone. you sit the counter pouring over notes you've made through out the case trying to focus your thoughts but the only thing on your mind is the image of Laszlo with his fingers to his lips. you're unsure why but it’s left you with a feeling of—is it longing? whatever it is it feels sinful. your mind wanders further imagining what the tips of his fingers might feel like against your own. at your waist? the curve of your hip?-caressing your thighs? between-- no you can't imagine that. you won't allow it.

"are you feeling alright?"

"hmm?"

"I was inquiring as to whether you might be feeling unwell. forgive me, but you haven't been yourself at all today”.

"no. I apologize l don't know what's gotten into me today doctor"

"you've seen something that’s left you un-nerved?"

"something lot that nature, yes.”

"do you wish to speak about it?”

you swallow hand brow furrows as you consider. if you can’t talk to an alienist about these thoughts who can you speak to? Laszlo puts down the piece of chalk from his hand, he sits down at the table pulling up another chair to face his. He motions to the seat. your heart races as you follow the silent instruction. your knees touch his when you sit and your quick to sit further back in the chair an action that does not go unnoticed by the doctor.

He also notes your unwillingness to look him in the eye instead choosing to focus on where your fingers trace patterns on your skirt

"your mind us wandering again?”

you only nod in response. biting your bottom lip. why do you feel like crying? you take another deep breath much shakier this time.

"it's not right--not proper"

"In my experience it's the thoughts we've been target to believe are improper that are actually the most natural.”

How is it possible that his understanding makes you want to cry more?

“I fear -- l am afraid that these thoughts are not as natural as you say they may be. I cannot imagine anyone having thoughts such as these about a person."

"so it is another person who has been occupying your mind?"

you nod.

"do you wish to cause this person harm? To injure or kill?"

"no! never." You’re quick to respond looking up at him.

He nods observing your wide eyes and damp eyelashes. He'd be lying if he said it didn’t make his heart clench seeing you so obviously distraught.

"well then" he says gently taking one of your hands in his, "l assure you, there is nothing unnatural about you or your mental preoccupations"

you shiver at the feeling of his fingertips against the pulse point of your wrist

"it may be bold of me, but I believe that what you’re feeling is simply desire"

you shake your head.

"l can't stop thinking about it"

"about what" He presses.

"this morning. you-- “ you sigh standing to turn away from the man," you licked your fingertips and my mind has not been my own since then."

"There is nothing shameful about desire. it is our most primal instinct the very reason every creature on this planet continues to exist"

He stands slowly and you can hear his footsteps approaching.

"if this is desire then my mother was not honest with me"

“It is likely she was not. But I doubt that the dishonesty was intentional”.

standing toe to toe with you he tilts your chin up for you to look at him with watery eyes.

"l still don't understand” you confess, "why would what you did cause this-- surely that's odd even if my thoughts themselves are not”,

“On the contrary. But it is not my place to speak to you about such things" his hand returns to yours.

"l must know Laszlo. I am tired of being at a disadvantage especially in matters of my own soul, mind and body."

He resists a smirk at the fire he sees grow behind your eyes. The unmoving need to stand your ground. an admirable quality.

"very well. There are many things that draw us to potential partner some attraction is conscious, but mostly attraction is a subconscious function, something we do not actively focus on in order to process. Some alienist believe that features that may seem insignificant to us are actually very important,” He lifts one of you hands to hips lips pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles before continuing, “hands for example seem to be an important subconscious factor when women look at a man. Simply put; when I brought my fingers to my mouth this mourning--" he pauses to repeat the action and you can feel your bottom jaw go slack again, your thighs clench without thought. Laszlo continues, "it brought your subconscious processes to the surface. I trust you can understand why the lips and mouth might also play a role in desire".

"kissing." your mother had told you that much.

"among other things yes” He turns away returning to his chair.

"other things? Laszlo, please don’t give me half truths." you plead moving to sit in front of him again, this time not moving when your knees touch.

"it is not easy to explain.. And when it comes to matters of desire it is better you wait and experience them instead"

"wait? for what? To wed a man I do not care for, and who will not care for my desires? If all men knew what you say you know, then I know my mother would have told me more"

He considers it. your right. it's true that women are only told what it is they need to know to be "good wives" He is not obtuse to the fact that society has not been built for the comfort, satisfaction or pleasure of the female sex.

"Both the hands and mouth can be used to stimulate the body during relations"

you nod watching Laszlo's finger mindlessly trace circles on the arm of the wooden chair and you briefly consider that he's reimagining a moment from his past as he looks deep in thought.

“And, forgive me, have you done these things?”

He looks back up at you, “I have”

“Show me”. You surprise yourself by saying.

"you deserve to venture through these experiences with someone who loves you, and that you love."

Your brows furrowed as you think, then you're the perfect man. You drop to your knees in front of him taking both his hands in yours where they rest on his knees. "and do you not hold affection for me? John has told me you've said as much in so few words. I am not naive in believing you must know how I feel about you by now"

He offers a gentle smile, one hand leaving yours, moving to cup your cheek, "It is my propensity to the very affections you speak of that prevents me from acting. I have-- I have never been bold enough to assume that the feelings may be returned."

It's your turn to reach to hold his face in your hands,

“Oh, Laszlo”.

He stands slowly and you stand too. His weaker hand finds a place to rest on your hip, and despite the layers of skirts and petticoats you swear you can feel the warmth of his palm, the tender press of his fingertips. His other hand traces the the shape of your cheekbone, and jawline memorizing each detail. It's slow and almost imperceptible but at some point your eyes have fluttered shut and your can feel yourself leaning in as his lips meet yours. Oh. He pulls you closer, the hand on your hip moving to press you close by the small of you back.

His forehead rests against yours and you take a moment to appreciate the soft scratch of his beard against your palm.

“Is this equal to the images your mind conjured”.

“Yes,” you confess, “but there was more”.

“Tell me”.

You shake your head avoiding his gaze almost as embarrassed as you were earlier.

“There is no shame between lovers, mien Schatz”.

“Lovers?” The word catches in your throat as you return your attention to him once more.

“I thought that I was clear in my intentions--forgive me. I would never have--if this is not an interaction you which to have tell me at once, I will put the notion to rest”

“I want this-- I want you Laszlo”.

“Then it would be an act of cruelty on my part to not give you what you desire”.

His lips are on yours once again, but this time we walks you backwards until your back is against the wall, the grip of both his hands on your hips much more firm this time.

“I wish to know what it feels like-- “ you grab one of his hands in both of her own “--to feel your fingertips upon my own lips”

You maintain eye contact with the doctor as you bring his hand up, dropping your head down to meet his hand that is in your control, his fingertips graze your bottom lip, his fingers twitch but he does not pull away. You hesitate but venture to brush the tip of your tongue against his forefinger as he had done himself this morning. Pulling away only when he lets out a shaky breath.

“I think I understand,” you mumble, “and these things, they affect you too, doctor?”

“Very much so”.

[igotanna]

Is this a bet??

Summary: Jinyoung takes your words seriously. And he loves proving his point. You should think twice before teasing him again.

Warnings: smut, sort of orgasm denial

Genre: fanfiction, smut

Pairing: reader x park jinyoung

Rating: 18+

A/N: pic is mine

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Please tell me you didn't just eat that popcorn that fell into your bra..." Jinyoung sighed as he heard you munch again after a long time. He sat in his favorite armchair and didn't bother to look at you. The movie was more interesting.

"Shut up I can’t hear it now."

One would say that after three years of dating and living together, you two would stop bickering. But that was the dynamics of your relationship, and you still kinda enjoyed it this way. But sometimes he got on your nerves with his lecturing.

The movie ended and Jinyoung got up to stretch and to put the dirty dishes in the sink.

"Y'know, it was really goo-"

"It was bullshit." you cut him off.

You scrolled through your phone and didn't really pay attention to him when he came back to look at you with his 'what did you just say?' face.

"Come again?"

"I said it was bullshit. It was absolutely unrealistic during the sex scenes," you explained and sighed like him.

He frowned and sat down, now actually interested to hear your thoughts "What do you mean?"

"I mean c'mon! One could never make woman cum without touching her clit - when they were together for such a short time! You couldn't do that and we’ve known each other for quite some time now!"

You were so serious, and didn't really see the shadow of deep shock that flew over his face. He blinked a few times in disbelief. "Do you really think that?"

Putting the phone down you looked at him "Yes, it's really hard - maybe even physically impossible for a woman to cum completely without touching her clit. It's the most ac-"

"Wait," he stopped you, picking up his words and thinking your statement through "is this a bet?" His eyes pinned at your face.

You had to laugh - this was more of a "scientific" discussion for you and here he was dirty minded as usual thinking you're teasing him.

"I'm just saying,-"

"Is this a bet?" he repeated, voice lower. Now it was you blinking quickly to adjust. When he said it out loud you were even more sure - it is impossible.

"What would be the prize for the winner?" you narrowed eyes suspiciously. You knew he was able to pull your leg all the time.

"Anything." he said deadly serious.

"Anything?"

"Anything. Completely free options. If I don't make you cum without touching your clit you can make me do anything you want. One time. Make me go up on stage and do stand-up comedy, make me say something stupid in front of your mother. Whatever you say."

"And if you do make me cum?"

His expression darkened, a low-key sadistic smile flitting across his face. "Anything as well."

You laughed again, shaking your head "This is too.. too much you. I don't trust you."

"What? Whyy?" he looked at you like a surprised puppy with his big round eyes.

"Because!" you exclaimed and got up, almost shoving him off the couch. He followed you with his eyes and regained confident expression. He already knew you're in.

"Because games like these never end up in my favour!"

"Well, if it won’t end up in your favour now, I don't know when it will!" he laughed and left to take a shower. Jinyoung was well aware to give you some space to consider his proposal after presenting you a new idea or assumption.

While he was showering, you had a moment to consider your options - either way you were going to have some solid sex. And that was all you needed to head to the bathroom and lean on the shower door.

"Alright."

Jinyoung laughed and looked to where he heard your voice "So is this official?"

"Yes." you sighed, almost like he pushed you into doing it. Which he did. In his own way. "It is a bet. If you won't make me cum without touching my clit-"

"But I can be inside." he demanded

"Of course, that's not the point. Apart from touching my clit you can do whateve-"

"Careful with your words," he smirked.

"You can do almost whatever might help you make me cum." you finished strongly.

The water stopped. A muscular torso appeared next to your face and with it Jinyoung's fresh scent combined with the soap.

He looked at you, satisfaction written all over his face and dried his hair like nothing happened. Continuing to your bedroom he put the towel down and raised his voice as if he was looking for you "Are you coming?"

You walked to the room like if you were about to do a job interview, even your stomach was slightly squirming with excitement and partly with nervousness.

Jinyoung was busy adjusting the light and pulling down the curtains.

"So," his voice was low and muted, intimidating.

"I don't know what game are you playing...you simply cannot win this." you laughed and started to unbutton your shirt.

"Ah-," he stopped you before pointing at your hands – you were obviously stealing his job "Don't." his eyes found yours and he tilted his head a bit "But do repeat what you just said. C'mon."

You laughed as he got near you and slowly touched your arm with index finger sending a shiver down your spine "I said you won't make me cum."

"That's it." he whispered to himself.

You felt his body behind you, heard his breath, your hair swinging in its rhythm. By stopping you from undressing yourself he was showing you who’s in charge. You wanted to stay strong, not willing to submit to his methods you knew all too well. Something in Jinyoung’s demeanour changed, he’s going to outperform himself today you were sure of it. He's going to come up with something new, trying out stuff he always wanted to but never did. And most importantly - he’s going to take advantage of this.

His fingers moved inch by inch up to meet the inner elbow and to the hips.

"Say it again." he muttered through gritted teeth, daring you. As if searching for reasons to punish you. His warm hand roughly pushed the shirt fabric aside, forcing its way between the buttons by stealth.

"I said you can't make me cum." you said clearly, but it was undermined by the breathless gasp that escaped your mouth unwillingly. At that very moment, his hand undid the buttons and your shirt landed next to your ankles like snake's skin.

Despite the intensity he barely touched you yet.

His arm rested on your shoulder and with tips of his fingers he drew over your chest up to the collar bone. His face was so close to your ear you heard every breath and even movements of his tongue in his mouth.

The goosebumps raised across your skin excited him so much, but he kept his head clear. He knew exactly what to focus on. Having a mental list of your erogenous zones he needed to use, and saving few new ones to try out. He dug his face in your hair and kissed you below your ear. Your body reacted faster than you wanted. You crumbled into him as if he pushed some button, your knees bending a bit. But he didn't want it to be this fast.

He bit your earlobe in warning.

Surprised by his nip, your hand went up for revenge but his was quicker, smacking yours away like annoying insect.

Sliding his palms down to your panties he slowly pulled down. You felt a sudden gust of coldness as he kneeled down and your back were left unprotected. His heart started to beat faster as your panties revealed your bum. He couldn’t stop himself from pressing his lips on your left butt cheek. It took you by surprise – he never was this gentle. Still only with the tips of his fingers on your sides, he got up. Parting your hair and putting them on one side he uncovered his most favorite part of your body – the nape of your neck.

He pushed you to the bed.

Enough of warming up.

"However bad it's going to be..." his voice was dark, wild and almost aggressive because of the long silence "Rule is- you can't touch your clit either." he said locking eyes with you.

"It's either me making you cum," he continued and leaned on his elbows above you, only inches above your face, "or nothing." you opened your mouth to kiss back, but he pulled away. Pressing lips on your neck and going down, between your breasts, your belly.

You felt yourself getting wett, heat pooling in anticipation.

The thing is - it was usually never this slow - Jinyoung was more of a rough, fierce sex type. He didn't need any time to prep and wasn't really a fan of foreplay. Lube was always there to fix everything.

But now- he was careful, sensual, paying attention to details - dancing with his fingers on the inner side of your knee. You almost forgot this place was so sensitive. He harmonized the feeling with his lips on your thigh, temptingly close to the clit.

Closing your eyes you didn't watch what he's doing - just bathed yourself in the feelings.

He was already almost rock hard, given the sight of you closing your eyes with pleasure. He had to focus on the edge of his limits. It was so tempting to imprison you in his arms, to thrust into you, deeply and fully.

But a bet is a bet, and he had his plan.

You felt like you were ready for him, so much so you unknowingly spread apart more. His hand moved your leg up to rest on his hips, facing you again. Still not opening your eyes, you turned your head a bit to make him space for more neck kisses.

As his hands pulled yours up above your head, his fingers intertwined with yours.

Jinyoung left the best for last – he finally pressed his body fully on you, and inch by inch dived in you. You heard him smirk as he found it amusing how easily he could slide in as you were already so wet and open for him.

He moved slowly. Not just because he knew it’s stimulating, but because he focused on your nipples. He knew you were sensitive, and it helped him on many occasions to make you cum. Kissing, licking and carefully biting them he took you on the edge of pain and pleasure. Your fingers found his hair and you wanted to pull it, to participate somehow. But he was the leader here and immediately put your hands back in place – above your head.

It was all so good.

His breath so close to your neck, the heat from his body. The precision he moved with, how much attention he paid to you. How he held your jaw like he needed it to breathe.

But something was missing, the tension just kept cumulating and piling up, peak nowhere in near sight. You could even feel yourself stretching your arm up, as if to grab the orgasm that was just inches away.

But apparently your other hand headed down again because Jinyoung smacked it angrily "Don't even try it." thrusting in over and over.

"Fuck the bet, I want-"

"Rules!" he hissed as his movements quickened. Placing hand on the concave of your neck and shoulders, he squeezed a bit as a warning.

You bit your lip in frustration and pleasure. He bend down and kissed your jaw, following with his mouth parting yours, being dominant even now. Leaving you only to wait for his next move. Pulse racing, he repeatedly broke the kiss to look at you, to burn this exact picture of you into his mind.

Feeling him inside, holding your hand up, your breasts on his chest... everything felt like a flash of a fire, but the flame didn't appear. You almost fell his heart beating in your own veins.

He was close, so close.

Face next to yours, his lips found the spot below your ear again, biting the earlobe.

Breathing faster you knew it was coming.

Was he right? Can he do that? C'mon just a bit more- it's so close.

But he suddenly stopped moving, head buried in your hair heavily breathing. You tried to keep up with the wave of pleasure that was inside of you, waiting to be released, you tried so hard to slide it on your own. But it was gone. He was gone, leaving you in the water searching for a way out.

As he rolled down from you letting you alone with the helplessness and frustration he propped on one hand and looked at you "You were right." he caught his breath and put away lock of hair from your neck.

"You did it on purpose! You knew I was close!" you cried out loudly, hands rubbing your face.

"Yes." he admitted, glad you revealed the truth.

Looking directly at you like a teacher wanting his answer he asked "Lesson?"

After the minute of silence you gave to spite him, you felt a quick, light smack on your thigh. "Never. Try me out again."

[balmasedas]

desperado / druglord!javier peña au. 

chapter one.

summary: reader is a dea agent. violence has arisen in the streets of colombia and she's determined to bring javier peña to justice. things take an abrupt turn when, instead of her finding him, he finds her and realizes they got much more interest in each other than just drug-related topics. 

warnings: only +18. overall, this is smut so smutty. canon violence. detailed warnings in every chapter. spanish traductions are in the notes, though for the sake of non-spanish speakers, spanish dialogues will be minimal and not relevant to the plot.

word count: 2.5k.

You throw your sweater in the backseat of your car before exiting it. In the morning, you had dug through your boxed-up winter clothes after shivering in your shirt-sleeves as soon as you got out of your department. Now, the temperature has risen to the seventies and you give yourself a clap in the back for deciding to wear something decent underneath. Spring in Colombia is a nightmare.

The crime scene is packed with local police and DEA agents. There are no civilian spectators this time, they know better than sticking their noses in the Medellin's cartel businesses.

Upon your arrival, you don’t need to identify yourself to the uniformed men guarding the perimeter. They know you well by then. You are the only female in the team that has to deal with these kinds of situations —gruesome, gut-churning, dirty shit. Not a very much "lady-like" job, some would express. For that, you have earned yourself the title of a gritty woman. Maybe because you were gritty, maybe because you were a woman.

Sometimes, though, you find yourself wondering why you turned down some run-of-the-mill desk job back in Virginia. It would’ve been a dull routine, for sure — hideous, even; but gossiping about some flash romance between two co-workers is less taxing than having to witness five rotting corpses at first daylight. 

"Jesus Christ," you lift your sunglasses to your head. Your partner, esteemed, weary agent Steve Murphy, turns around at the sound of your voice. 

“You’re up early.” he asserts, with a raised eyebrow. 

You purse your lips. “Had a bad night. Ran out of whisky at one am.” 

Not even Hugo, or Hughie for his gringo friends, could help you. You forgot that his daughter would be celebrating her birthday and his all-night store would be closed until the next morning. Normally, you would own an arsenal of alcohol, but it has been an abnormal week and a hell of a night —starting with the spiral of violence that has arisen in the streets of Medellin.

"Well, look at the bright side: your stomach is empty," Murphy mumbles.

Looking at the bodies in front of you, you can’t agree more: their hands are tied-up to the oxidated wire behind them, hanging by their arms. They are barefoot and scantily clad. There is a visible gunshot wound in all of their front heads, some flies are already hovering around the open flesh. A quick death to eternal torture, you suppose.

"When did you get the call?" you inquire.

He fiddles with his wristwatch. "About two hours ago." you only hum in response, keeping your eyes in front of you and paying no mind to Steve who only grows impatient at your silence. "You think this was Peña's job?" he adds.

You nod in denial. "If it was, it doesn't make sense." Not one bit. "Peña works underground, quiet, like a sneaky rat. I'd even say they're more well-behaved than most cartels. So why do this?"

Why such a declaration of violence? Why draw even more attention from the authorities? 

"Maybe he decided to toughen his punishments?” You scoff at his remark.

“He can do that without half the city knowing it. A ditch is much more subtle than a monument to death blocks from the US embassy.” 

Murphy smirks. “Seems that you have given it a thought before, Sarchie.” you narrow your eyes. He knows you hate that nickname. Your tendencies to boss him around had brought you consequences: the unofficial title of a Sargeant. Sarchie, shortened and friendly.

“Killing someone? Yes, you. Multiple times a day.” you put your sunglasses back on and walk away. The forensic police won’t be there until the next half hour, at least, and you are too disquiet to wait around. Plus, your stomach is growling, but Steve doesn’t need to know that. “We’re gonna need their names, I’ll see what I can find. You have a little chat with the coroner and see if they can speed up the autopsy. The sooner the better, ok?” you spot the smirk on his face. You know what he’s thinking. You shut your car's door and point a finger at him through the window. A clear warning sign in your eyes. “Shut the fuck up and do it.”

(,,,)

Happy hour. You give up on the investigation and stop off at ‘Chiquita’, a popular local bar near your place. The prices are cheap, the drinks aren’t that good but they do the job. The place is crowded — hot couples with wet, glowing skin grinding against each other. Happy or horny or both. You take a mental note to have some fun later. 

As you sip at your bourbon and crack your peanuts, you let yourself dwell on what you found out about your case. You finally got the names of your five guys. For that, much research wasn’t needed: All of them had their IDs in their pockets and they were exactly who you feared they were: no ones. No ties to any big names, no official involvement in any cartel — at the most, a few minor possession charges. As for weeks, your few clues have led to nowhere and the enigma surrounding the Medellin cartel seems to worsen with every minute that passes by.

You hate mysteries. Colombia’s full of them. 

You take your second bourbon in one smooth shot and ask for another. You grab a colombian peso from your wallet and slide it across the wood. Your eyes stop at the picture of your parents that you carry around. It’s tiny and worn, just like your relationship with them. They haven’t heard from you in weeks, a fair deal, if anyone asked. They don’t have to deal with their fucked up daughter and you can focus on your work filled with dead ends and a ghost that haunts you while you’re awake: Javier Peña.

“¹Qué tomas, preciosa?” a velvety voice caresses your ears. A pleasant smile breaks quietly over your lips. Just in time.

You turn your head to the side. The stranger, with chocolate-skin and inviting eyes, is waiting for an answer. You tap your fingers against the glass.

"Bourbon," you say. "²Pero no me vendría mal un trago más." he grins and holds up two fingers to the barman. He sits at the empty seat beside you, he’s exuberating confidence. He’s offered you the bait and you'd taken it.

"³Algo más que se te ofrezca?"

You look him in the eyes. You know how the story goes from there. It isn’t any different than the one from last night, or the night before. As an apex predator, he's out for something to satisfy his hunger. He won't go home without reaching his goal and you're desperate enough to let him.

"⁴Sí. Hay algo más que puedes hacer por mi."

(,,,)

The fucking cat on the window has been staring straight into your eyes for the last fifteen minutes. Matias, the guy you've met hours before, is too focused on you to notice the awkward presence of the animal, so you don't bother shooing it away. 

He's enjoying himself, pounding into you in a symphony of lust bites and moans. But the sound of skin on skin doesn't match the intensity of your passion for this encounter.

It's not that his performance was terrible, it was just... soft. So soft, too soft. From the sweet nothings, he gasps on your ear to the gentleness of his grip on your hip. 

You aren't a sweet girl. If you were sweet, you wouldn't have traveled all the way down to Colombia to participate in the war on drugs. If you were fond of delicateness, you would've stayed inside and touched yourself to a Cristina Peri Rossi novel instead of searching for strangers at bars.

You don't like to believe you are a special case. On the contrary, you assume your attitude is the rule and not the exception. Not a hell of a woman, but a woman made of hell – waking up already worried about the hours ahead of you. How could you not? Your life is as wide and empty as the sky. Unstable, unpredictable. Anything can happen. A good meaningless fuck is the only moment you allow yourself to feel something — someone. By then, the detachment that gets you through the day disappears and raw feral emotion takes its place. 

You are addicted. It's like a drug, but worse. Drugs don't have feelings, people do.

You’d grabbed Matias' hand and wrapped it around your neck a few times but your request had been ignored; you’d even pushed his ass against your body so you could get closer to a feral touch, but he had insisted on something more caring and delicate. 

And delicacy just won't do. 

So, after a few tries, you give up. You lay still, under his heating body, dead eyes directed at your window. No emotion whatsoever, no release. Like a numb, stiff sex doll, rooting for his satisfaction. Forgotten until next time.

“⁵Donde?” he blurts in your ear. You evaluate your options quickly. 

“⁶Adentro.” Any other place would demandsñ more attention. By then, he would be aware of your passivity and asking too many questions. You don't answer questions, you make them.

His body tenses and trembles. You feel heat dripping between your legs but it doesn't come from you. He leaves a few small pecks on your neck — thankfully, the last ones for the night. Matias breathes over you for a few seconds before he gets off. You stare at the roof in silence, and when he asks if you finished, you simply nod.

You can't grasp what he says under his breath after you ask him, as nice as possible, to leave. What he does or doesn't vocalize, it doesn't matter. You won't be repeating with him. You never fucked the same person twice. 

Once you hear the front door shut, still resting on your bare skin, you lit a cigarette. The room is void of artificial light, and the cat is still in the same place, with his silhouette contoured by the gleam of the moon.

"Sneaky bastard." you chuckle, then get up from the bed and slowly approach it.

You stop at the wooded frame of the window, maintaining your distance. Not too close to scare him or him to scare you. He isn't a friendly guy. He isn't even yours — just a grumpy cat that stops by your department too often demanding some food. You tried to get him to come inside before, but all you had won from your offers were a couple of scratches. Nonetheless, the cat has seen more of you than many people have. So, even though you renegade from him, you found yourself inevitably attached. He's the closest thing to a family, after Murphy, of course. But Murphy hasn't seen you on your worst, yet.

"Hope you see the same shit I see." you grimace and shake your head. "Not like that, I mean... I should choose better who to fuck with. And they should choose better too." the cat remains silent –obviously– and you keep talking. "You could make yourself useful and spook them away before I have to." he meows, you roll your eyes and decide to leave him alone. "Then again, I could do it myself if I told them I hold long conversations with the stray cat that lives in my window."

You choose to take a bath and call it a night. You glide through the living room, though before you can reach the bathroom something stops you. There's a noise outside, some glass breaking down on the streets. You can ignore it, conflict isn't a foreign subject in Colombia, especially at late hours. But then it repeats itself a second time, and the third bugs you too much for you not to grab your night robe and take a look at it from your window.

The only light pole is out of order; there's not a soul in sight; music can be heard from afar. You see nothing out of place until you do.

Your car is parked across the street. All four windows have been smashed, the tires are flat. You barely waste time cursing before you flee out of your place. You thought the night couldn’t get worse but the world has a disturbing obsession with testing your patience. 

Once you take a step outside and approach your damaged car, you’re not sure where your chills are coming from. Perhaps, because of the unfriendly weather or maybe because you’re suddenly aware of how idiotic was your decision to go outside. 

Everything inside your vehicle is left untouched. There weren't objects of value anyways. You find no logical reason for someone wanting to wreck a car just because —yours, of them all.

Big red warning signs color your mind. Your eyes scan your surroundings with speed. It's a dark, lonely dessert. You're now sure that what happened isn't some random event. The victim could've been to another person, but you weren't just another person.

"⁷Discúlpeme, señorita." a voice throws yourself far from the source. You reach for your gun just to find nothing there. Damn you. "⁸Está bien?" you look at the man. An old man that, at first glance, doesn't represent a threat. His voice is gentle, his voice is tinted with a caring voice. You lower your defenses, just a bit, not enough to stay around.

"⁹Sí." you mutter.

Slowly, you walk back to your apartment. Old man glues his eyes to your form and you don't take your own off from his'. Before reaching the sidewalk, you trip with something. Your back collides against a car and you're ready to apologize when the owner exits it there’s not a sign of rage in his face. On the contrary, his stare is blank and his mouth doesn’t even twitch.

Bad news.

You intend to run, but another guy blocks your passage and two more appear at each side of you. You turn over to ask the old man for help, but he’s gone along with your last piece of hope. Can’t blame him, you would’ve escaped too if you had the chance. However, you can’t and the smartest thing to do is acknowledge it and work from it. 

You stay still thinking it will persuade them to opt for gentle treatment. 

How naive of you. 

A set of fingers dig into your arms, another one grabs you by the neck and lowers your head as they drag you into their car. Guarded by two of them who sit at your sides, a dark cloth bag is placed over your head and your wrists are restricted with a zip tie. 

All you have left now is your hearing, you pick up a few things: the engine roaring, the tires burning on the asphalt as you speed off, some spanish words thrown in the air. Nothing substantial, nothing of use.

You sit in silence and wait for the worst.

[monsoonblooms12]

Detectives By Chance: Chapter 7- Hide & Seek

Summary of the Series: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

A/N: Okay, let me get this straight. This is ALL Action and Miles being evil. The most happening chapter of the series, and my favourite chapter because it brings out that fighter inside Pooja. Also, a lil bittersweet moment because only 2 chapters are left, and then we are done. (And I am using my Wattpad cover for this chapter because A. I like it! and B. It gives me the dark feels that embody this chapter) Anyway, hope you enjoy it as much as I did when I wrote it!💛

If you enjoy the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going💕

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Dr Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: about 4.3K

Rating: Teen

Triggers: Curse Words, Mentions of blood, murder Gun Violence

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Prompt:- @choicesaprilchallenge2021 Day 14: Now or Never

CATCH UP HERE: Previous Chapter I Complete Series

It took all of her self-control as she prevented herself from throwing away her phone and breaking it into a thousand pieces.

Only the thought, the hope of a chance to save her Ethan, to save Mark and Alex, who were like family to her kept her going.

It was A Now or Never Moment for her.

Seconds later, Pooja's phone tinged. The screen lit up. She unlocked it to see the address that glared from her screen towards her. The address that hid all secrets and all proofs. The address which held the love of her life in who knows what condition.

She got into the car, entered the address on GPS and drove as fast as her driving skills allowed. Her mouth turned dry, face pale, beads of sweat on her forehead, her mind whirling through numerous unpleasant thoughts and a lingering doubt,

Will she be able to save them?

After what felt like a lifetime to her, Pooja arrived at her destination. A mid-sized mansion stood tall amid a deserted locality. The place was so muted, that the silence seemed to make voices. The winds gushed, chilling her bones. She stood in front of the black wood door. The silver handle's shine was unsolicited for her eyes. She took a deep breath.

Do this, for them. They are your family.

The thought repeated in her mind like verses of an orison. She let the ire, the woe to flood her soul and with fortitude and balance, she pushed the door.

He had kept it open.

The door clicked in place as she entered the devil's edifice. The interior was tenebrous, the conspiracy of silence etched deep in every wood and every wall.

"You are here"

The sudden sound caused Pooja to quail. The words resounded throughout the mansion, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. The sweat on her body contrasted with the rigour of the air.

There was no doubt in her mind. Her caller was here.

Miles Danvers was here.

But... She Looked Around. Where is He? She looked around, maybe it was a mirage. She looked everywhere but there was no sign of him.

"Don't try, You won't be able to see me." The ominous voice struck again.

Another chill ran down her spine. The thought of Ethan being unaccompanied in the devil's edifice with the devil himself was unbearable.

Will I be able to do this?

"Awww, Tsk, Tsk, is little blossom scared? Did I give her a heart attack?" Miles spoke mockingly.

That was the last straw. She would never give him the satisfaction of having scared her. With as much courage she could muster she yelled,

"AHHHH! You ruthless, sinister, cruel, heartless, disgusting monster. What the freaking hell do you want? Why the hell are you doing this? You are a goddamn monster, you are a freaking BASTARD."

She stopped for a breath.

"Not only that, you are a coward. You are a goddamn fucking coward. You don't dare to face the consequences of your actions. Hell, you don't even dare to come out and face me. If you had the courage, you wouldn't do what you have done. Now come out, you ruthless bastard. Get the hell out and come and face me." Pooja screamed hysterically.

"What will you get by yelling at me, hmm? Will Mark and Alexandra be out of jail? Or will you find Ramsey? Which one, huh?"

"You're the one who is responsible for all of this. You disg-"

"Do you want to save them?"

She felt as if her heart had stopped. Her mind pondering with hundreds of thoughts, doubts, yet she waited with batted breath for him to continue.

"Le silence signifie le consentement."

"J'accepte" Pooja muttered. Bloody Show Off

"Hmm. Three Clues, Three tips, Three keys. Three is your lucky number, isn't it? So let's put your luck to test and see if your lucky number is lucky enough to save your dear ones" Miles challenged her with a mock that boiled her blood. Seeing her helpless was utter humour for his soul and he was cackling in joy.

She shouted, hurled abuses, banged her fists, but there was no answer, no reply other than "You are running out of time... Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha...."

Her legs were giving out, she felt herself losing her balance, her steadiness. A chance, wasn't that all you needed? She heard her alter ego questioned her.

So good friends, like family, huh? Is this what you do for family, fall and bow to danger without putting up a fight? Is this what you did, when you fought for your mother, give up just like that?

Her sane mind was questioning her. No. She didn't give up then, She will not give up now. Maybe she will never make it out of here, maybe nor will they. But it was better to die fighting for them, than dying without even trying, striving for them.

"Miles", her steady voice, with power and courage, surprised him for a moment, but he wasn't shocked. This was Pooja Sharma after all. One who always stood for the right, even if it would make her lose her dreams.

"I am ready. And I hope you are too."

"Are you sure? This game can take that breath from you."

"Until it does, I will fight. For them"

A part of his mind already knew that she would win. But for his ego, accepting defeat was never an option.

"Fight all you want to. But winning is not an option for you."

"Time shall tell the answer"

"Alright, Two rooms to the left, and your search beginsss."

She ran. The worn-out door refused to give way to her. She pushed, but her strength was not enough. If only you had drunk that milk your mom gave you. Her mind swirled to the thoughts of her mother and she had to give a jerk to come back to the present.

"Seven minutes up already, and you're still stuck at the door. How sad!"

Cursing him under her breath, she upped her power and got ready to give a push just as,

Her fingertips felt a carving on the door. She had been praised for her impeccable sense of touch, but she never knew that it would come in handy in a dire situation one day.

Her mind, her heart, indicated that this was the clue, and she slowly, gently, moved her palm on the door. She got a slight trail of the carving and followed it further a few times. It took her about a minute to comprehend what it was.

A word. TIME. She was looking for something to do with time. But what? The place was so quiet that one would hear the ticking. But she didn't. Although auditory skills were never her strong point after she had a blockage in her left ear and had to go through five doctor visits to clear it, she was sure that there was no analogue clock around her. Her brain cells were running haywire when her shoes rubbed the floor. Sand had been spread around. Consciously.

Because on her trail from the main entrance to the door she was standing in front of right now, she was sure she hadn't felt sand anywhere other than this specific space. This was an indication, It had to be.

Time and Sand, Time and Sand, where do we find time and sand together. Time and sand... Her mind rushed frantically through a dozen options, none fitting the criteria, while Miles smirked at her foolishness.

And then, Oh shit, HOURGLASS! She practically jumped and nearly fell, as she comprehended the answer. With the newfound energy, she pushed the door, and it opened with a BANG! Her hand went to her pocket and she almost shrieked as she felt her phone, about which she had completely forgotten the moment she set her step in here. Taking it out and switching on the flashlight, she trailed into the room. Looking around and tripping on a dozen articles, she finally located the semi-broken hourglass. She held it under the flashlight and the words, upstairs, three rooms right, written in red, came to sight.

She glanced around the room once more, to make sure that there was nothing she was leaving out.

Her eyes stopped their search as her eyes fell on the five drawers of the broken cupboard on which the hourglass was kept. Only one of the drawers was in place, and that made it seem out of place in midst of all the chaos. She pulled at it, Once, Twice, Thrice, before it gave way. A blue file lay inside it. She picked it up, hoping to find some useful information and rushed on to the next step of her search.

On the other side, a corner of Miles's mind was terrified and nagged him to do something before it was too late, and he became the loser of his own game. But he just sat there, not moving an inch, as he watched Pooja running towards her next destination.

The next door, to her surprise, was pretty sturdy and opened easily. No catch this time? Unbelievable. As far as she had come to know Miles Danvers, setting up clues right in front of her eye was a far-fetched possibility.

She double-checked the exterior. Nah, nothing here, she was sure of it. Her silent steps fell on the hardwood floor as she looked around in the room for the clue. Her mind got distracted and worry came flooding back. Will she be able to save them? Was she even going to make out of her alive?

Suddenly, her foot struck something and,

"Twoooo Roooomsss Toooo Theee Rightttt..."

The Echo and her Shriek came almost simultaneously. And with the two sounds, mixed the third one of a cackle, from Miles.

The sudden rush of Adrenaline left her panting.

After a few minutes wasted in overcoming it, she kicked the weird machine once more. The Echo came again, this time clearer than the first one. But since, she didn't trust her ears, or maybe it was just her anger speaking, she kicked it once more.

Two rooms to the right was her next destination. She moved towards the exit, having checked the surroundings already and no clue found.

A few footsteps outside the room later, a thought struck her. She rushed back to the previous room, and using her flashlight, picked up the echo machine and checked it thoroughly.

And right her intuition was! A piece of paper stuck between the lined back. She took it out and unfolded it. It was a code.

M14-6D9

She looked around. There had to be something that opened with the code.

Wow! Such thorough checking! She rolled her eyes, berating her self.

And as she did so, her mind went back to every time Lex had called her the living image of the 🙄 emoji.

A light, sorrowful chuckle escaped her, along with a lone tear.

She let it drop and moved on to complete the mission she had partaken in.

She searched, and Nah, Nothing at all. Pooja doubtfully looked around. Was she missing out on something, or was it just another one of Miles' Red Herrings to mislead her?

Five seconds and temporarily deciding on the second option, she went out to the next room and thought of coming back to this later.

Pooja went to grab the surprisingly well-kept handle, and in a reflex pulled it back. The handle was abnormally hot. It felt out of nowhere. No fire, no nothing, how the hell was the door handle so freaking hot?!

Of Course, she couldn't twist and turn a burning hot doorknob and harm her chances of success. So, she decided on other ways of opening the door. She kicked, pushed, forced it with the tad bit of strength left in her, but the door didn't even budge a single inch.

Her ankle sprained with the forceful kicking, she sat down. Tears rolled down her eyes, but she couldn't decide why.

The pain in her ankle, the fear of failing or a mix of both?

But obviously, No pain greater than letting down those whom you love.

She couldn't comprehend the time she was losing as she sat there, crying silently. She slowly started to rise, but couldn't bother to wipe her tears. Wasn't this what Miles Danvers wanted to see? She let him enjoy his short-lived victory.

Forgetting that the doorknob was hot as hell, she held it, and before she could withdraw her hand, her eyes fell on a cuboidal machine stuck just below the spherical structure.

This time, she did wipe the water from her glassy eyes, to get a better look.

Pooja switched on the flashlight and looked closely at it. So this was the mini devil burning her palm. After a few minutes of scrutinizing the black box closely, her eyes caught a red button on the downside of it. She went on to switch it off, and as soon as she did, the faint, almost inaudible buzz coming from it stopped.

The devil had been silenced.

But she knew that it would take time for the knob to cool down. She searched her jean pockets, and luckily her baby blue handkerchief with a neat P Alekhya has sewn on it was there to save the day.

She folded the kerchief in half and with it tried twisting the knob. A Few failed attempts later, she slowly opened the door.

But as soon as the light fell inside the room, her phone and kerchief, both fell on the floor.

The floor swayed under her feet. In front of her on a one-arm broken couch, lay Ethan.

Her Ethan.

The only light-emitting source of the room now lay covered on the floor, preventing her from taking a better look. And she was shaken to the core by the way events unfolded, layer by layer, that there was nothing to say at all.

Her brain froze, all ideas drowning down the drain, her confidence uprooted by the pain she felt seeing her love like that. A Thousand thoughts spiralling in her mind, but she pushed them aside. Her knee bruised by the fall, her feet wobbled as she tried to get up. Garnering strength on an empty stomach & little sleep was becoming increasingly difficult for her, but she needed to go on.

Giving up was never an option

She got up and decided to look around for a way out of the musty building with Ethan, all while hiding from Miles' eyes. Because he had been keeping an eye on her.

Picking up her phone, she directed the light around the room. Raggedy and Unclean, her fingers clenched around her phone as she felt fury fill in her veins. If she didn't have morals, she would have killed Miles herself at that very instant.

There were no cupboards or drawers anywhere around the room. She strolled around with careful steps and heard dry leaves and glass crunching underneath her foot. Pooja looked at the floor, and seeing its condition, didn't hope to find anything helpful.

That's when her eyes fell on a piece of paper. She picked the dust-coated sheet which had become brown from its originally white colour. She tried opening it up using a single hand but ended up tearing it a bit. Pocketing her phone, she opened the sheet up gently and then took the phone out again. Flashing the light, she slowly went through the contents.

It was a map of the building, and she had never felt as grateful as she did at the moment.

She studied it closely, carefully and located a narrow stairway at the corner of the first floor, i.e. the floor she was on, that would lead her out of the building without having to use the main entrance.

She needed to take E out of here, at any cost. But how in God's name was she going to carry her Dr Giraffe alone, all while making sure Miles didn't have suspicions?

She made his unconscious body sit upright as the couch creaked. This broken shit isn't going to last much longer, she thought to herself. She couldn't take any chances of getting caught. Whatever you have to do, do it quick.

She bent and locked his arms around her neck. Then, she stood up slowly and an Uff! escaped her mouth. Wish I had paid attention to the weight lifting lessons.

Pooja lifted him off the sofa and enclosed his long, really long legs, around her waist. And as she started to walk, she stumbled back and forth, and almost fell, as she gained a stable posture. She slowly got out, making sure her shoes don't prompt the creaky floorboards to begin a musical. She scooted to the farthest edge of the floor and walked quickly to reach the darkest corner.

A walk of a lifetime and approaching the darkness, her eyes struggled to make out the door for the staircase. She trusted her intuition and slowly, very carefully, placed a foot in front of the other, as she made her way down. She worried that E might get hurt, and she would hate herself for the rest of her years if that happened.

The grey light at the end of the staircase was a ray of hope for her. She thanked her past self for parking the car closer to this side of the building as she hurried to place Ethan there. She felt her pockets and found the key faster than her expectation. She opened the passenger seat and placed E down on the floor because as much as she hated it, she couldn't take chances with Miles locating him in the car in case he came for a lookout.

Phew! She was relieved that whether or not she makes it out of the mess she had got tangled in, her love will be safe. Locking him safely in, she rushed back to the mansion.

On her way back, she rushed a bit too much, all while forgetting to switch on her flashlight. She tripped badly on the stairs and fell facedown. When she got up, the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. She felt a blank space in her mouth. She had lost a tooth.

She made her way back and expressed her gratitude to God for letting her make this trip safely. She remembered to shut the door behind as she left and made her quickly to the room where Ethan was held captive. A mistake she had noticed the time she looked at the map was that she had entered the wrong room.

And it was a four-leafed clover for her.

She closed the door of the forbidden room just as her ears pricked up. Tips & Taps of someone's footsteps made her heartbeat rush as she quickly moved to the actual room she was supposed to be searching.

"Hmmm" Miles arrived behind her, hands in pocket. The room in front of her didn't have a door.

"So are you planning to spend the rest of your life chillin' here? That'll be a wonderful plan!" He mocked her and the list of the number of times Poo had wanted to punch him had just become longer.

"What the fuck do you want?" She hissed.

A lopsided grin told her that he was having the best time of his life tormenting her.

"No, I just wanted to check if you will ever make out of here or not."

"And what conclusion did you arrive at?" She mocked curiosity.

"I think- No, scratch that. I am sure, that this" He gestured around him, "is your Final Destination"

His grim laughter filled the place as he went around, checking his surroundings, especially the forbidden room.

Poo had smartly switched on the Make-Hot machine to avoid any suspicions. Seeing, rather, feeling that the door handle was perfectly hot as hell, he returned, and she let out the sigh of utmost relief.

Her heart was filled with gratitude as she thanked God, over and over again, as things turned out in her favour in a place where she had no resource & no help. Although she still felt as if she had been left on the battlefield without preparation or weapons, she used her skills to pave her way safely.

The last room, surprisingly well-kept, lay open before her. Please let me pass this last one, she let out a silent prayer and went in.

Flashlight on, she looked around. This time it was only evidence and no clues and keeping that in mind she carried on her search. A bed lay at the centre of the room. All around were shelves and cupboards which had been kept to mislead her and make her waste her time. A 40% charge in her phone and the clock telling her that she had only 20 minutes left to get out safely, she hurried away.

Quickly opening one drawer and then the other, disappointment flooded her as she failed to locate any file, folder, hell, even a piece of paper.

At last, all drawers, cupboards done and nothing there at all. She felt let down, her heart palpitated. She sat down on the bed and as she placed her hand, heard the very soft scrunch of paper. The stillness of the surroundings was the reason why she could hear it.

She quickened her actions and lifted all the goddamn blankets, to reveal a bunch of paper, half folded, half-torn. She gathered them all. Suddenly she felt something stuck behind one of the sheets. Turning it revealed a USB drive.

Fuck, this was her gold!

She rushed out, picking the papers and the blue file she had collected from the first room. She remembered to check back the second one and the M something code. When she tried to reopen the door, however, she failed. All her trials went in vain. Unlike last time, the door didn't even budge this time.

And then, the entire manor shook as the roar of a bullet echoed all around her. It had been shot just next to her foot, and she stood frozen at her place. She slowly turned around, and saw Miles, with the evil expression on his face appearing to shine in dim light, standing there with a gun.

Slowly, Stuttering, Pooja asked, "What, what, t-the h, hell do you think you are, are doing?"

"I said I will give you the clues, I never said I will let you get away with them. Why would I invite my danger, when putting you to the deathbed would be much, much, easier?" Miles Danvers hissed.

"You want to do a second murder, lose the chance to save your brother forever?"

At the mention of Mark, Miles did fall a little weak, but that passed in a heartbeat.

"Girl, if I really cared about him, I would have never plotted against him in the first place. Bringing you here, was just a ploy, a mask, so that I can finish all four of you and live my life in peace."

He moved forward, one step and the next, as Pooja tried to run. He held her hand with a bone-crushing grip and twisted her hand to her back and held the gun to her cheek. She tried to free herself as she cried out in pain. Her eyes widened as the cold metal touched her skin.

She had really walked into hell at her own will.

Pooja knew her twisting and turning will not be able to help her a bit. So she tried to remember the self-defence techniques she had learnt in her teens and using her foot, kicked him hard in the groin.

He groaned in pain and his attention shifted. Pooja taking the chance, ran swiftly down the stairs, only to slip down the stairs and land on the ground floor. She incurred painful injuries and couldn't move for a good minute.

Even as she mustered the courage to sit up, her body ached in extreme pain. She must've sprained something real bad. Miles was still withering in pain, and she took the chance to get up and slowly move towards the exit.

She dragged her foot and muttered to herself,

Just one more step, just one more.

This rhyme gave her the strength as she almost made it to the door and then

AAH!

Blood splattered on the ground as the bullet pierced through her left hand, and she held the door to support herself. Tears rushed out of her eyes as Pooja screamed in pain.

At least it was her hand and not her mind that had been hurt. Even in pain, she acted smart. Throwing away the files that she held in her right hand outside, she took out the pepper spray that she always had in her pocket and sprayed a good bit of it at the approaching Miles.

It was her black, powdered dynamite, her most powerful weapon.

Coughing, Sneezing, Stumbling, Miles let out cries of help and the gun was very soon forgotten.

Smirking through her tears, Pooja chanted, It's the end Miles, It's the end.

Getting out of there, She shut off the main entrance door on his face and collected all the papers with her non-injured hand. Dragging her foot slowly, she escaped, pride and contentment filled in her heart.

Whatever she did, whatever pain she received, all paled as she bathed in the joy of the possibility of finally being able to rescue her people, her persons.

She did it, for her family...

You never know how strong you are, until being strong is your only choice.

PS: I would have killed Miles myself if given the chance😡 Also sorry for this dark, twisty tale after my birthday. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this mess and here's to hoping that you have a wonderful day ahead🧡! Love You!

Tags (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @bbrandy2002 @whimsicallywayward15 @ohramsey @nervoussaladsludgeopera @trrfanaddict @hopelessromanticmonie @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019 @starrystarrytrouble @3riche @chetachisblog @zoehanji @withbeautyandrage @drariellevalentine @mvalentine @aestheticartsx @angela8754 @schnitzelbutterfingers @ao719 @choicesstan1 @neotericthemis @arnikki-2406 @anotherbeingsworld @maurine07 @sophxwithers @twinkleallnight @choicesaddict5 @gardeningourmet @mysticaurathings @jessiembruno

[smolla-than-a-bug]

Death Eaters, Eh?

A/N: i’ve always liked the idea of a supernatural x harry potter crossover idk why sksksk and then this happened sjjsjssjjs i’m not too proud of this but i hope you guys like it :))

|| Masterlist ||

pairing: harry potter x fem!reader, dad!dean winchester x daughter!reader

timeline: harry potter and the deathly hallows

summary: Hunting all her life is a handful—especially when having Dean Winchester for a father—so when Y/N catches a glimpse of leaving to make her own apple pie life, she seizes it. However, she discovers that what they say is true: No one can truly escape the hunter's life.

warnings: swearing

THIRD PERSON P.O.V.

Y/N sighed, tiredly, as she struggled to fix herself another mug of coffee. The coffee maker, for some reason, refused to function properly no matter what she did to try and make it work. She was already experiencing difficulty with her attempt at being normal, and it really showed.

Ever since she had moved to London to live the 'apple pie life', as her father so referred to it, she had had trouble adjusting. The shift from full-time hunter of the supernatural to full-time normal teenager, balancing work and uni, constantly made her want to vomit. Back at home, things were dealt with a simple "Shoot first. Ask questions later," and voila—problem solved. Although, she knew that she would someday become accustomed to living the normal life.

She allowed her phone's screen to illuminate. Thursday, it read. She groaned.

Her paper was due on Friday, which was the next day, and she had been too caught up with work to notice the days that went by. As a result, here she was—struggling to write a paper.

It was during these moments that made Y/N miss hunting with her dad and uncle. She missed researching in the vast library of the bunker, and she longed to once again experience another banter with her dad in the Impala. That was home to her.

It did not help that her wonderful boyfriend was away at a mysterious boarding school—one that only permitted letters delivered via literal owls for communication—for most of the year. It was weird, but then again, Y/N thought, who was she to judge?

She hadn't heard from Harry until earlier in the week, receiving a piece of parchment delivered to her by an owl named Errol with forward, hastily scribbled words that read:

School won't be allowing mail this year. Don't send Errol back. Love you. -Harry

This left Y/N confused beyond words, but she brushed it off, nevertheless. She was able to learn how to care for an owl in a span of a few days.

-

When Y/N finally got the coffee machine working, she unintentionally filled her mug to the brim, streams of her coffee furiously cascading down her mug and onto the counter.

"Dammit," she swore, frustrated that pouring coffee was just another thing she failed at doing properly. She just wanted to sleep.

It was when Y/N turned to find a rag, to clean up the mess she made, that she heard a loud crack which seemed to have emanated from the living area.

Y/N jerked at the alarming noise as her hunter instincts kicked her in the face, she suddenly felt awake. Someone was in her apartment. She abandoned the idea of finding a rag, and she snatched a knife off of the counter instead, crouching behind the granite kitchen island.

She then heard another loud crack, and another, followed by a voice unknown to her as well as some violent sniffing.

"Where's the girl?" one of them inquired—male, Y/N made sure to note. Y/N concluded that she was the 'girl' in question. Now, she was aware that the unwelcome visitors were after her. Was this another Men of Letters thing? It couldn't possibly be.

The sound of footsteps seemed to get louder, indicating that the intruders were getting closer. Her right hand clutched the knife firmly, mentally preparing to engage. She could then make out the three sets of feet making their way to the island she was hiding behind.

When Y/N decided it was time to make an appearance, she popped up from behind the counter, and threw it at the first figure she saw. She noted that in her kitchen stood two male figures and one female.

The knife plunged itself into the shoulder of a man she deemed as one hairy bastard. The said hairy bastard let out an animalistic growl and launched himself at her. Werewolf.

Y/N fought back as best as she could, remembering all of her training as a hunter. She felt a wave of adrenaline engulf her at the experience, which she had longed for. The werewolf's bizarre female companion let out a maniacal cackle.

"GREYBACK!" the male associate with the long white-blonde hair scolded—the dude screamed authority. "We need her," but 'Greyback', as he was now known, refused to move, "Alive."

And Greyback hesitantly retreated slowly. Snarling, he revealed his canines.

Seeing wands in the hands of the intruders, Y/N knew they practiced magic. Witches—lovely, she bitterly thought, having momentary recollections of how much her dad had openly expressed his distaste for witches.

Y/N knew it was a dumb decision, but she was a Winchester and she could not conjure a more sensible idea. She made a break for it, managing to push past the woman, only to have her arms forced to her sides and thrashing in the grip of Greyback.

Blondie spoke again, this time directed at Y/N. He tutted, "Filthy muggle."

Y/N growled at him, and then shouted in frustration. "Son of a bitch! Damn I hate witches." She fully understood where her father's fiery hate came from now.

"Oh, so I see Potter's told you about us?" sneered the woman.

Y/N was confused. "Potter? As in Harry? What does he have to do with this?"

The three froze in surprise before the woman spoke again, "So it seems as though he has not," before letting out another cackle. She seemed to ne enjoying this a little much.

"Curious," Blondie observed.

"Would you cut the shit? What's curious, and what does my boyfriend have to do with this?" Y/N was annoyed, the slightest bit betrayed even. She suddenly felt as though significant details on Harry's life had been kept from her knowledge.

Blondie ignored her. "What are you?"

"I'm a hunter, you genious," Y/N rolled her eyes. Blondie looked surprised, but quickly put himself together and smirked. "Thought you might've known that already, but.. guess not."

He hummed, "Bellatrix, you've got a new toy."

-

"Death Eaters? Seriously? Okay, so you're Death Eaters.. So.. You eat d– is that how it works?"

Y/N was bound on her desk chair with rope in the middle of her living area, surrounded by more witches and wizards who referred to themselves as 'Death Eaters'. They gave her the privilege of experiencing the Cruciatus Curse, which hurt like a bitch, but this was not the first time Y/N had to endure torture.

"I am not going to repeat myself. Now, where is Harry Potter?" demanded Lucius.

"That depends," Y/N pursed her lips. She would protect Harry with her life. It's her job as a hunter to protect, and she was only driven all the more by her undying love for him. "Who's asking?"

Lucius responded with a look of disbelief and irritation as he was slowly getting fed up with her games. It was silent for a moment.

"Well then.. I ain't tellin' ya." Y/N flashed them a wide smile.

Y/N was bloody, bruised, and tired; but, she refused to lose her charisma and give the damn wizards the satisfaction of breaking her. Moreover, she would rather they torture her than Harry.

Lucius looked to Bellatrix. She raised her wand, but before she could screetch the word 'Crucio', a red beam of light interrupted, followed by many more, and the Death Eaters all made their escape.

None other than Harry, Ron, and Hermione emerged from the source of the lights. Y/N let out a breath she was not aware she was holding.

Harry rushed over to her side, removing the ropes that bound her to the chair and allowing her to collapse onto the floor. Looking her over, he was horrified at her injuries and at the evidence of torture.

Hugging Y/N to himself, he kept mumbling the words "I'm sorry" over and over again while tears fell down his cheeks. He could hardly see over his glasses, which were situated crookedly on his nose.

"It's okay," Y/N tried to get Harry's attention, but it seemed as though he could not hear her over his tears and apologies. "Hey– Harry!"

That caught his attention. When he finally brought his green eyes to meet hers, he did not expect to be met with Y/E/C orbs that seemed to be filled with experience with these kinds of things. Y/N was composed—not fully, but enough—and she did not seem very fazed by the fact that she'd been tortured.

Bringing her hands up to cup his cheeks and wipe away his tears, Y/N whispered, "I'm okay," before attempting for a smile, pressing her forehead to his, and allowing a single tear to leak out of her left eye.

Harry kissed Y/N’s forehead, and let out a shuddered breath. He then rested his right hand on the nape of her neck, his left hand around her waist, and he nestled his face on the crook of her neck. In turn, Y/N wrapped her arms around him.

They remained on the floor like this, in tears, holding each other close before Ron popped the question: "What are we to do now?"

Slowly pulling away, Harry rested his hands on Y/N's arms. "I guess she comes with us."