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deanwritings · 1 year ago

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The Guest House - Chapter 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 3,066

A/N: Shoutout to my hubby for helping my break through my writer's block on this chapter 🥰

“Who was that?” Benny asks despite likely knowing the answer. When you’re born and raised somewhere, it’s pretty easy to spot someone out of place. And for Dean to approach an apparent stranger pointed to one person.

“That’s the woman staying in my guest house for the next month.” Dean confirms as he retakes his seat, starting to pick up a fry but throwing back onto his plate as he thinks about your smug smile as you ate your fries in his face.

Benny looks over Dean to where you’re seated at the counter, now enjoying a sandwich as your legs swing underneath you, too short for the stool you’re sitting on. Benny had watched the whole interaction, and when you had turned to Dean a few times, Benny got a good look at your profile.

“She’s cute” Benny notes as he takes a bite of his own meal, washing it down with a gulp of coffee and a grin.

“Don’t even start, Ben.” Dean shoots him a pointed look. Dean had eyes, it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed that himself, but he was too annoyed to care. “If you think she’s so cute, why don’t you have a go at her?” Dean jabs as he picks up his burger and takes a wide bite, sauce splashing on his cheek.

Benny just chuckles and shakes his head.

“I got enough women in my life.” Between his ex and his daughter, his hands were full. “And I’m not looking to get washed up in your mess.” Dean rolls his eyes.

“Fucking Lisa,” he grumbles before taking another bite. Couldn’t even enjoy his lunch break. It’s like Lisa knew exactly what to do to get under his skin. Which isn’t a surprise.

Back when they were happy, Dean and Lisa knew everything about each other; what they each liked, what they loved, what drove them crazy. It’s why Dean would bring home white chocolate and flowers after Lisa had a rough day at work, or why Lisa would bake a variety of pies in the early days after Dean’s father, John, had passed away, knowing Dean didn’t want to talk about it but it was a way to offer him comfort without being too touchy feely, because Dean hated that when he was younger.

But now, Lisa was weaponizing the information she had, knowing Dean liked his routines and his personal space. She had thoroughly invaded them without even stepping foot in town. Instead she sent this woman, Y/N, to do her dirty work for her.

He drops his burger with a sigh and glances over his shoulder; you’re scrolling through your phone as you take another bite of your sandwich.

He briefly wonders if you’re texting Lisa, the two of you laughing about how now that you’ve taken over his guest house, you’ve also wormed your way into his lunch spot. But Dean knows better. He knows he’s been the aggressor in his run-ins with you. You’re either a great actress or truly were just an innocent pawn in Lisa’s slimy scheme, and Dean’s pretty sure it’s the latter.

It makes him think back to this morning, how you mentioned you were out of work and couldn’t afford to go anywhere else, even if Dean refunded your stay. You’re likely going through some sort of shit if you’re willing to use whatever money you have to get away for a full month.

He sighs through his nose. You had offered a fresh start, and he had brushed past you like an absolute asshole.

He likes to think he wasn’t always like this. Once upon a time he would have happily shook your hand, giving you a big grin in the process hoping to maybe get to know you better, find out what you like to drink and buy you one and then see what would happen next.

But that was youthful innocence then, back when Dean didn’t realize that when you gave your full self to someone, it gave them the power to use it against you one day.

He’s about to consider going back over to you and apologizing, taking you up on your offer, but Billie steps in his path, dropping off a check and a box for his unfinished burger.

Dean blinks hard out of his thoughts and gives Billie a big smile before reaching into his wallet and dropping enough money to cover his meal and tip, adding it on top of Benny’s own pile.

“See you boys again soon.” She gives them a wink before they gather their coats, Benny affixing his cap before zipping up his jacket.

Benny lets Dean lead the way, Dean’s eyes glued to your back as he passes by before he steps back out into the wintery overcast and heads back towards the garage.

After you finished lunch, you continued your stroll down Main Street, restraining yourself to just window shopping during your inaugural visit. You would have four weeks to shop, and you didn’t wait to explore everything the town had to offer on the first day. But now you had a good idea of all the places you would be spending your days for the next month; BILLIES was the only restaurant on main, but there was also a coffee shop, and bar that opened at 2pm. There was a vinyl shop, a bookstore, a few thrift and antique shops, as well as a modern apothecary and a fifties-looking pharmacy. Overall, the town was charming. It’s one of those places that if you were to leave the city, you could envision yourself living here. There was just enough to do to keep you busy and it felt nice to be away from the constant noise and hustle that typically filled your days. You were looking forward to decompressing and maybe even getting to know some of the non-Dean locals while you were here.

Once your in-town exploration was complete, you headed to the nearest grocery store, only five minutes off Main Street. You loaded up on food for the week, toiletries, some basic cleaning supplies to use during your stay, and a few magazines to keep you busy. You also stopped off at the liquor store to grab another bottle of wine as well as a bottle of whiskey for nights you wanted something a little stronger.

You were settled in the living room, dusk overshadowing the forest around you, when you hear the rumble of an engine. You peek through the floor to ceiling window, catching headlights flick off as you hear a door slam.

Honey, I’m home. You smirk to yourself, thinking about a grumpy Dean stomping up the stairs of the front porch.

You meant what you said about a fresh start, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t tease him to yourself. Afterall, he was an asshole, and you didn’t owe him anything at the end of the day. You had gone out of your way to be nice to him and offer an olive branch, and he shoved it back in your face.

Your phone vibrates next to you, and you smile as you see your best friend’s face pop up on the screen.

“Helllooooo.” You answer, your smile growing when you hear her voice.

“Hi!” Sydney chirps. “How’s the getaway?” You snort through your nose.

“Not exactly what I was picturing.” You glance over your shoulder, back to the now-dark driveway.

“Let me guess, the pictures of the cabin are super outdated and it actually sucks.” Sydney speculates.

“I wish.” You roll your eyes and turn back to the muted tv. “Turns out the woman who rented me this place doesn’t even live here anymore.”

“Soooo, you got scammed?”

“Not entirely.” You sigh. “Her husband still lives here – ex husband.” You correct yourself, Dean’s voice ringing in your ears.

“I’m still confused?” You chuckle, picturing Syd’s scrunched face.

“So was I. Turns out the renters are going through quite the bitter divorce. The husband still lives in the main house but sounds like she left. I guess she rented this place out as a way to piss him off or something. That’s why it was so cheap.”

“Shit,” Sydney hisses and you raise your brows, even though she can’t see you.

“Yeah, shit. The guy almost gave me a heart attack my first night. Came storming in with a gun while I was in the hot tub, thought I was trespassing.”

“HE PULLED A GUN ON YOU?” Sydney screeches and you have to move the phone away from your ear.

“He didn’t point it at me or anything, he just had it.” You clarify, knowing that Sydney is about to spiral into worst-case what-ifs.

“Still.”

“Regardless, he hasn’t pulled it out since. But he has been a massive dick.” You recount your run-ins with Dean so far.

“No wonder she left him, sounds like an asshole.” Sydney chimes in after you finish telling her about lunch.

“Yeah, but I don’t think she’s much better. I reached out to get a refund for my stay so I could get out of here and she’s refusing. And also, who does something like this?”

“A bitch and a dick, sound like a perfect match.” Syd quips and you laugh. This is why you loved Sydney. The two of you always kept each other laughing, no matter the situation.

After another twenty minutes, you and Syd say goodbye and you settle in for the night.

Before you know it, your first week is coming to an end. You’ve thoroughly enjoyed sleeping in every day, grabbing coffee in town before deciding which shop to hit. So far you’ve spent most of your time in the bookstore, getting to know the owners, Carrie and Richard Owens. The two have been married over forty years, and this bookshop was their post-retirement dream after working in the city most of their lives. They had been here for almost ten years now and loved every single moment of it, though they missed their children who still lived in the city. Seeing them happy and living their dreams, even in their sixties, gave you hope. There were definitely nights you couldn’t sleep, wondering what you had done and thinking about what you were going to do. Your doubts outweighed your hope at times, but chatting with the Owens left you with a sense of calm and a new book recommendation with each visit.

Now it was Sunday evening. You had cooked dinner and were trying to focus on the local evening news, but you felt antsy. You hadn’t accounted for just how lonely you would be. You would talk to your mom and Syd most days, either calling them or texting during the times they were busy with their lives, but when you found yourself “home,” there was only so much tv and books to keep you company.

You pop yourself off the couch and head to the bedroom, trading your sweats for jeans and throwing on your cutest top. You hadn’t yet visited the local bar, Max’s on Main, and figured it could be the perfect cure to your boredom. You could enjoy a drink or two while being around actual people. And hey, you were single, maybe someone would catch your eye and you could live out a whirlwind vacation romance.

When you get downtown, the street parking is completely full, so you take a few spins down the side streets until you finally find a spot, about three blocks down from the bar. Apparently Sunday evening was popping.

As you step into the bar, you’re surprised at just how busy it is, but then you notice a hockey game on a few of the screens and patrons wearing matching white and blue jerseys.

As your eyes roam the room, you notice a few spots at the bar, which was exactly what you wanted. This wasn’t the first time you were going to a bar when you were lonely. If nothing else, usually the bartenders were friendly enough to chat with you here and there and take an edge off the isolation.

You settle on your stool, unfurling your scarf and zipping off your jacket, letting it rest against the chairback.

A man about your age throws a coaster down in front of you and places his hands on the bar.

“What can I getcha?” He asks as the crowd roars. You peek at one of the screens behind the bar, seeing a team celebrating.

“Any chance you have hot toddies?” The weekend had been freezing, and it was too cold for your usual cocktail. You needed something that would warm you, ideally with a splash of bourbon.

“Sure thing.” He nods and steps away to turn on an eclectic kettle.

You rest against the bartop, a dark wood that runs down the length of the bar. As you look around, you notice the layout is very similar to BILLIES, but flipped. There’s more high top tables, but the booths back along the opposite side of the room. But whereas BILLIES was more updated, this bar looked like it hadn’t been decorated or remodeled in a good fifteen-plus years.

Most of the patrons are men of various ages, almost all of whom are watching the game. There is one table full of women, but they too don the same hockey jerseys and are just as invested as their peers.

“Start a tab?” The bartender returns with your drink, placing it carefully atop your coaster. You reach into your wallet, pull out your card, and hand it to the bartender. You’re not expecting to have more than two drinks since you’re driving, but it was just easier to start a tab versus get a bill for each order.

After the bartender walks away, you wrap your hands around the crystal, humming at the warmth as your shoulders drop. You take in a deep breath, closing your eyes as the sweet aroma of honey and bourbon steams your senses.

“Good drink?” You open your eyes to find a man smiling down at you, and you feel the warmth of your drink spread to your cheeks. He takes the seat next to you, his smile never fading underneath his five-o-clock shadow and a swoosh of blonde hair.

“If it tastes as good as it smells, then I hope so.” You return his grin.

“I’m Nick,” he puts his beer on the counter and raises his hand towards you. You take it, his skin a cool contrast to yours.

“Y/N.” You offer.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” His eyes almost have a twinkle under the bar lights, and his never-fading smile highlights his sharp jawline.

“It’s my first time here.” You relax into your seat. “I’m visiting for the month.”

“Family?” He takes a sip of his beer, and you match his movements with your drink, feeling the bourbon settle soundly in your stomach.

“Renting. I’m from the city, taking a sabbatical.” You keep it vague. No need to spill your life story to a complete stranger in the first minute of meeting him.

“How’s your visit so far?”

Dean pours the last of the beer into his cup, emptying the group’s pitcher. He takes a big gulp, putting back about half the pint before he stands.

“Gonna grab another round. Anyone need anything?” Dean offers the enthralled group as he stands from the table. It wasn’t that he didn’t like hockey, but despite growing up here, the Rangers weren’t his team of choice. He grew up watching the Blues with his dad, and continues to cheer for them to this day, so he doesn’t mind stepping out during a power play to grab another drink. It likely meant there would be no wait at the bar.

He grabs the empty pitcher and carries it with him, resting along the curve of the bar as he flags down Jacob.

“Another pitcher?” Jacob assumes, and Dean hands over the empty container.

As he waits, he taps his fingers against the wood, taking in the crowd when he notices someone at the end of the bar and his shoulders tense.

Nick Olszewski.

Dean went to high school with Nick. Grade A douchebag then and grade A douchebag now. He may have even broken Nick’s nose once senior year.

He’s chatting with someone, definitely a woman.

Poor girl. Dean thinks as Jacob returns with the pitcher, and Dean thanks him.

Dean heads back to the table, dropping the pitcher right in the middle before, for some reason, he takes a glance back towards Nick. And from this angle, he can see exactly the poor girl he’s talking to.

Shit.

It’s Y/N.

Dean turns away, shaking his head.

He should stay out of it. He and Y/N hadn’t crossed paths since their lunch run-in a few days ago, and he had planned to keep it that way.

You’re an adult, and free to chat with whomever you want. Even if he’s a complete dickbag.

But then he thinks back to a few days ago. How he was a total asshole to you, and he had regretted it. He was better than that. This wasn’t the guy he always was.

Maybe this was his chance at redemption.

“You good, brother?” Benny looks up, realizing Dean hasn’t sat back down.

Dean licks his lips and runs a hand down his face.

“I’ll be right back.”

Nick’s hand relaxes easily on your thigh, and you’re leaning into him, your elbow resting on the bar top.

He was telling you a work story; he’s a real estate agent in the area, and how a couple decided to get a divorce in the middle of a showing.

“Wait, so did they actually get divorced, or was it just a heat of the moment thing?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“Oh big time. I reached out a few weeks later to see if they were still interested in the house and the guy told me.”

“Wow,” you take a big sip of your second drink, courtesy of Nick.

You’re about to ask him a follow up question but you’re interrupted.

“Thanks for keeping my seat warm, Nick.” A large hand pats Nick’s shoulder, and you both turn towards your uninvited guest, your eyes widening. “But think it’s time for you to go.”

Oh for fuck’s sake.

Keep reading

NEXT TIME:

“You’re welcome for saving you.” Dean’s voice has you turning back in your seat. He’s now next to you, literally and figuratively having taken Nick’s spot.

“Saving me?” You sneer. “More like ruining my night.” You grab your drink and take your own big gulp, needing the bourbon to do more than just warm you now.

“Tell me, Dean.” You narrow your eyes at him. “What have I done to you that you just think it’s okay to bother me whenever you want?” Your voice quickens as you feel the liquor settle.

“Because I’ve stayed out of your way, like I promised. I tried to be nice to you. It’s not my fault your ex-wife dragged me into scheme of hers. So if you have a problem, take it up with her!” Your voice raises but is drowned out as the Rangers score another goal, the bar erupting in whoops and cheers as patrons high-five one another.

Dean runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, nodding his head at your words as you stare him down.

“I was saving you from the biggest asshole in town.” He responds once the bar settles back down, his voice calm and even. You raise your eyebrows.

“Are you sure about that?” You challenge. From where you were sitting, he seemed to be winning that award himself.

Forever Tags

@iprobablyshipit91 @likesiriusly @kittyque @findingfitnessforme @wonderange @captainemwinchester @xtina2191 @smoothdogsgirl @mogaruke @chin-up-love @tsunadesenjuuchiha @lyarr24 @globetrotter28 @krazykelly @roseblue373 @k-slla @stephv213 @kaydallas21

#dean x reader #dean imagine #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean x y/n #the guest house

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star-girl69 · 2 years ago

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My Heart Never Knows

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: i got butterflies writing this chapter honestly. i hope you all enjoy!!

also- there is a masterlist to this series! it won’t allow me to link it here, but you can find it if you go to my profile.

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, mentions of death, mentions of fire, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Seven - To the Flames

—-

Jake isn’t used to feeling like this.

Out of control, mindfucked, so fucking messed up and it’s all because of her.

Jake is just a man.

He is strong, physically, he is a renowned warrior. All those years ago, before her, if he had ever wanted anyone other than Neytiri, he knows he could have had his pick.

He is strong and tall, a killer, a lover. He transcends world- he was a warrior on earth and a warrior on Pandora.

But, no matter what accolades he wears, what body he is in, Jake will always be a man.

He will always surrender to pink lips, swinging hips, the most beautiful fucking face he’s ever seen.

Before her- he thought Neytiri was all he needed. But, now, he knows he was wrong. He knows Eywa has blessed him like this, given him a mate, and by Eywa does he wear he will have another one.

Jake is just a man. He will always surrender to the sudden tightening of his loincloth, drown in his own lust, in the feeling of her skin upon his.

So, he lives in the moment.

—-

She backs up, and her hands trail down his arms, and not touching her right now feels like a curse, so he stays. His hands have no choice but to glide along her light blue skin, and it is like he a match and she is the side of the box.

Any moment, he swears, he will burn.

He can feel Neytiri next to him, feel her breaths next to him, and it only makes everything he is feeling multiply.

Y/N bends slightly, reaching to Neytiri, and Jake can’t be bother to watch because she pushes her chest out- and suddenly he is licking his lips and biting back an animalistic groan.

This is what he needs. To let loose, to pretend she is his and he is hers for one night, and he can focus on making it permanent another day.

She looks back to him, and he sees the lust in her eyes, the want, the need. He wants to hold her close and soothe her aching heart, give her what she wants, because he knows how she feels. Why should he not take her pain away?

And then he sees the blush on her cheeks, remembers the drinks he saw her down, dancing with the girl who didn’t hold a candle to her.

“Dance with me,” she whispers, and fuck does he want nothing more.

He could have two beautiful women on his arms, dance them around and show them off and rest easy knowing that he is a dragon, an ikran, and he will protect his horde.

Instead, he bites back a groan. “You’re drunk, sweetheart,”

“I know…” she concedes, biting that pink fucking lip again, looking down. “But I can still dance.”

He cups here elbow in his hands, looks to Neytiri, find her the same way he is. Drowning in lust, in need.

Sometimes, he and Neytiri are too similar. Burn too hot, too bright together. Eywa knows this, and in her wisdom, she brings someone like Y/N to them. He says a silent prayer, a thank you as his eyes meet Neytiri’s.

Begging, asking, just in the connection of their eyes.

She answers him by surging forward, placing her blue hand on Y/N’s shoulder, and if the contrast is not the most beautiful thing he’s ever fucking seen-

“We would love to dance,” she says, and the way she smiles reminds him so much of the day they mated.

But Jake is just a man- and her skin is burning in his.

“Yeah, baby, let’s dance,” his words are sloppy, and he knows if he kissed her right now it would be the same. But he is living in the moment.

Her skin is so soft next to his, and she fits so perfectly into him, until he grabs her hand and smiles to herself as she places it on her waist.

The tempo of the music picks up, more people floor the dance floor, and no one pays attention to them as she turns, holding his hand, pressing it to the side of her waist.

His fingers splay, desperate to touch as much of her as he can, because he has to he needs to, like a baby needing it’s mother.

He looks toward Neytiri again, follows her gaze, settled on the sway of their girl’s hips. She looks up, feeling his gaze, and they don’t have to speak.

There is a fire in her eyes, a fire around them. It is like Y/N has lead them to the edge of the flames, but they knew, they knew, and they followed her anyways.

Jake would follow her, as long as her skin was on his, and he was hers and she was his.

To the ends of the world, to the edge of the sea, to the flames, the flames.

Neytiri’s and Jake are too similar. They know they won’t get a chance like this again, while her guard is down, and they can let their hands wander, their looks linger.

But he won’t go farther than that.

She’s drunk, he has to remind himself, drunk, drunk.

And he is drunk too, although not a drop of alcohol has touched his lips. He is drunk on her.

—-

Something crawls on her bones, like a tiny green bug, twisting and turning between flesh and muscles.

Resting under her skin, poking out under the thinness over her arms.

Neytiri knows what it is before it reaches her heart, her brain-

it is desire.

And she is used to it by now, because she desires the woman in front of her know so recklessly and so needily it consumes her.

She is usually so calm, so level-headed, but even one glance at this storm of a woman Neytiri is filled with this unabashed sense of wanting.

She wants, she needs, she desires.

And she knows, too.

She knows there is an empty space in her hammock, a empty space in her family, and she knows who will fill it. She knows that anyone could fill it. Anyone, with enough determination, could sharpen the edges and fit that space for them- but she does not want just anyone to do it. She desires Y/N to do it.

And, by Eywa, Neytiri will carve it out for her, carve a path, spread the ocean, so she will find her place in their family. In their arms, in their hearts.

She is not blind. She sees the lowered eyes, fast heart, pink blush on her cheeks. She knows, and she knows something is holding Y/N back. But they have all the time in the world, don’t they?

Why not enjoy this night, sink into her warm skin, her soft lips that Neytiri has never touched, but she dreams about. She dreams about her hands on those hips, her lips on that jawline, that neck, that chest, trailing lower and lower-

She should live in the moment. So, she meets Jake’s eyes, and she sees him asking. He does not need to. He knows what she wants and she knows what he wants.

They want her.

So, she listens to Y/N’s laugh, feels her hand fit so perfectly in her own, let’s her lead her along.

(Is it wrong that she would follow her anywhere? Because she would follow her through death, through flames, let herself burn, because is it so bad if she burns with them?)

She watches the sway of Y/N’s hips as she walks, the top of something Neytiri dreams about peeking out from her skirt.

But all that lust and desire fades when Y/N stops and turns to them, cheeks flushed and so clearly drunk and it suddenly feels Neytiri with such an urge to protect and hold and love-

“Dance with me,” she repeats, locking eyes with Jake, placing her hand on the side of his neck. Thumb digging into the base of his throat, the hollow of it that Neytiri has kissed so many times.

She looks at Neytiri nexts, and Neytiri cannot believe that this metaphysical thing of a woman is even looking at her.

But, Neytiri supposes, she has always attracted otherworldly things. Is it not true that her some of her children have five fingers?

And suddenly the music is taking a physical form, pushing her closer to them, but she was drawn in by the hook of Y/N’s finger anyways.

(Follow her to the flames, to the flames, something inside her says. Something primordial and simple, something that has always been there and hasn’t been unlocked until this moment, until this woman.)

Y/N places her other hand on Neytiri’s chest, staring at the dark blue that peeks through her light blue skin. Contrast like that is beautiful, Neytiri decides.

Her fingertips just touch the base of Neytiri’s throat, and if anyone else got this close, she would throw them off and bare her teeth. But it is Y/N, and what matters if she dies if it is by her hands?

She is being irrational and reckless, but this storm of a woman is in front of her and Neytiri is suddenly falling through quicksand, but she cares not, because the sand almost feels like her.

Neytiri’s hand has a mind of its own, weaving through the air, finding its way to Y/N’s waist, the tie of her skirt almost unnatural.

Neytiri wants to strip her bare, See her, feel her, and simply explore the newness like Jake did when he first came to her home.

Her hand rests there like it was always meant too, like they were made for each other, the three of them. She had always fit so perfectly into Jake, and now Neytiri fits so perfectly with Y/N and Jake fits so perfectly too.

That is the only world Neytiri can think of to describe it. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

“Y/N,” Neytiri rasps, because she is bursting with feeling for her, “you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Her face breaks into a wide smile, and her words are quiet, but Neytiri would hear her across mountains, across seas.

“I think that about you, Neytiri.”

Now, Neytiri breaks into a wide smile, because she knows this is only temporary, but she vows to live in the moment.

The three of them are a tangle of limbs, and Neytiri feels something rising in her throat, can feel the kist radiating off of Jake, the desire she exudes.

She can feel the way Y/N wants them, too.

“Baby,” Jake says, and Neytiri can tell he is drowning, burning, dying, because he has always surrendered so easily to a sway of hips. “You’re fucking perfect, Y/N, perfect.” Neytiri thinks she could not have said it better.

She leans forward, hears Y/N’s sharp breaths, and Neytiri knows, in her heart, in her heart.

“You are leading us to the flames, my Y/N.”

And she only laughs, before trailing her hand down Neytiri’s chest, down her stomach.

“Are you scared?” Neytiri grabs Y/N’s hand, places it hard to her chest.

“No.” Neytiri has never been more sure of anything in her life.

Jake has to lean down to reach them, but what he says takes the words right out of Neytiri’s mouth.

“Why would we be scared, when we are burning with you?”

—-

taglist:

@sully-stick-together @corrupt-cadaver420 @jadynchronicle @imthefunniestpersonalive @fangil101 @mashiromochi @rey26 @soothinghummerz @myheartfollower @pwallettes @melodykisses @ghoulfiendz @fanboyluvr @itsyaspwr @khaleesihavilliard @capbrie @nothingfuninthislife @faceaeter @thetrashindrakensroom @makeup-stuff-and-such @my-dearest-agent @miyamuraaaa @ex0ticnobody @xoxovienna @arschbohrer @amazingaries @ssc7514 @milf-lover-23 @w3ird11 @littlexscarletxwitch @tiajk

#jake sully x neytiri #jake sully x reader #neytiri x reader

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yanderu-deredere · 1 year ago

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i think you mention that fujio is very beefy so could you do him and the other bigger yans reaction to a smaller darling and like she's wearing their clothes (alternatively their clothes and nothing else?)

a/n: awwwe i think this is so cute and also a really terrific way to die so anyway i loved this request! hope you loved the way i ended up writing it! also i only wrote for some of my taller yans + fujio (love me a short king) so if you'd like to see the other yans in a request like this, send one in!

warning: female reader as requested, size difference where reader is significantly shorter, mentioned scent kink in isamu's and mel's, thigh riding in soren's

emm fiala ★ profile

a lot of her fashion is skin tight clothing. the only thing she really owns that would be anything close to loose on her would be her biker jacket and, even then, it's still a bit on the tighter side

but, if she is that much larger than you, it would be larger than you

if you love going on bike rides with her often, she'd be the kind of sweet wife who'd always give you her biker jacket

she'd never tell you that it's becos it satisfies a possessive instinct inside of her that tells her to mark you as hers

she just likes you thinking that she's being nice and polite LOL

she's always had a problem with being taller than the average woman? and it's definitely been a problem for past lovers so she always worries that it'll be a problem for you

but then she sees what you look like naked underneath your clothes and, suddenly, she doesn't think that anymore LMAO

"Naughty girly, playin' with m'jacket like that." You saw Emm eye you up and down, that look in her eye only darkening as she walked towards you.

You just leaned further back, your face only getting hotter as the jacket fell open, revealing more of your skin and your breasts to her hungry gaze.

It was a wonder the jacket fit you so loosely. The sleeves even went past your finger tips. When it was on her, it fit her so snuggly. Then again, she was a head or so taller than you and she was so much more muscular.

She got on the bed, clicking her tongue as she opened the jacket even more, letting it fall off one of your shoulders and then the other, her mouth decending onto your neck.

You let her, of course, your head tilting one way to give her the space she wanted to mark you however she pleased.

"God, didn' kno' you were such a small li'l thing." She groaned, her crotch suddenly meeting yours, the rough of her denim against your bare pussy sending a zing up your spine "My li'l darlin', am'i'rite?"

You nodded, whimper leaving your lips as your hands scrambled to grab onto her shoulders, the sleeves of her biker's jacket bunching up at your elbows.

"Fuck." She huffed before pushing your knee down onto the bed and effectively spreading your legs apart, her other hand holding your other knee to her hip.

"Don'no why it riles me up so much, darl', but it does." She chuckled a little, all breathy and soft as she trailed her hand from your knee and up higher, fingers ghosting your thigh, admiring the way her palm looked so big against the side of your leg.

Then, her hand was on the very inside of your thigh, close enough to where you wanted her but not exactly close enough.

"You are my li'l darlin', aren't you?" She teased, her thumb brushing against your clit, rolling it under the pad of her thumb, hard enough to send sparks up your spine but not hard enough to really get you going.

So, of course, you nodded hastily, another whimper leaving your lips "O-Of course. Always your darling. Always."

She gave you a kiss on the cheek as a reward but, when your hips pathetically jerked up, she chuckled again and pressed her thumb harder down on your clit "My greedy li'l princess."

"I'll give you all ya' want an' more, I promise."

isamu lowell ★ profile

a lot of isamu's fashion is super plain. he doesn't really dwell much on what to wear. its whatever is the easiest to move around, the cheapest to buy, whatever looks good

a lot of his clothes are hoodies, sweatshirts, joggers, plain tshirts, etc. perfect things to steal, if you ask me.

if you're his mate or his darling, he'd be the type to always sneak his clothes into your clothes anyway. he likes the thought of you wearing his clothes but not for any possessive reason

he just likes his clothes smelling like you LOL after you wear his clothes, he wears them and it feels nice and comfy

if you wear his clothes with nothing underneath in a more provocative manner, however...

"Hey, I'm a little late for work, do you know where--" Isamu glanced into the room before the words he was saying immediately died on his tongue.

He stared at you, his fists clenching and unclenching.

You sat there, batting your eyelashes at him, the sweetest expression on your face. You were wearing the hoodie he had left on the bed yesterday, your smell and his smell mixing perfectly on the fabric.

It was so big on you too. You were swimming in it.

It reminded him so much of how much bigger he was than you, of how much you trusted him not to hurt you. He felt his cock twitch in his sweatpants.

"Mate." He groaned, his hands flying up to cover his face as his ears grew hot. When he heard you laugh, he growled "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." You had tittered out, enjoying his suffering all too much.

He didn't like that, didn't like how you challenged him, how you teased him.

Isamu stalked forward, frown on his face. You just giggled and spread yourself on the bed, letting him get a peak of what was underneath the hoodie of his.

Nothing.

He was never going to make it to work. But, honestly, it felt like the last thing that mattered in his mind at that very moment.

Isamu didn't even hesitate as he pinned you down on the bed, his suddenly sure hands wrapping your thighs around his waist and his lips meeting yours in a messy kiss.

As he manhandled you, his hoodie rode up in the scuffle, revealing your stomach and some of your breasts. Usually, the sight made him bashful. Instead, it made him even harder.

This was a side of Isamu you only saw when you really riled him up.

And, from the sound of the groan that left his lips, he was worked up. It was even more evident when he fished his cock out of his sweats and lined it up against your pussy.

When he pulled away from kissing you to stare down, it felt almost surreal. The way the tip of his cock almost touched your belly button. How he looked so big and thick against you like that.

You whined as you looked down too, pout playing on your lips as you ground your bare pussy against the underside of his shaft. "'Samu?"

Yeah, no, he was never going to make it to work.

mel lowell ★ profile

mel is a lot like isamu where a lot of the clothes he wears are really plain and he doesn't really care what they look like on him

unlike isamu, though, mel tends to run a bit hotter? so a lot of his clothes show off more skin. stuff like tank tops, jeans, flannel, etc. he doesn't wear things like hoodies often

he'd also be a lot like isamu where he'd love his mate or darling to wear his clothes often but he wouldn't beat around the bush about it. he'd be very upfront and just be like 'oh, you're going out? might be chilly, wanna wear a flannel of mine over your shirt?' or something LOL

i wouldn't say he's worse than isamu when he sees you wearing nothing but his clothes... he definitely becomes a bit insatiable

You grumbled as you felt someone reach into your t-shirt, broad calloused hands cupping your breasts and experienced thumb playing with your nipple.

Immediately, you knew who it was and your eyes fluttered open to see it really was Mel, smirking at you victoriously, his arm wrapped around your hips as his hand continued fondling your breast.

"Where'd you find this shirt, hmmm?" He muttered against the shell of your ear as he rutted his hips against your ass.

You just hummed, your voice a mix between a soft yawn and a whimper "The bed. I missed you."

"Figured." He grumbled "Smells like me and now it smells like you. Smells like us."

As he muttered that against your skin, you felt him lift the shirt up a bit more to reveal your breasts. The rather cold air of the room made your nipples pebble a little but Mel definitely had no complaints.

Though, the shirt definitely felt silly now that it was pulled so high on your torso. The neckline was slipping off your shoulders, pooling around your chest, trailing down your upper arm.

Mel just continued eyeing you like seeing you like that, with the shirt like that, was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

You laughed at how silly he was being but then he kept going "It's so much bigger on you than it is on me."

"Yeah, and?" You raised an eyebrow at him, your back arching when he pinched your nipple as retaliation.

"Reminds me of how much bigger I am than you." He clarified, pressing hot kisses against your skin.

You just laughed again and reached behind you to cup his growing cock "Why don't you show me exactly how much bigger you are?"

Mel definitely had no complaints as you slipped his already hard cock out of his jogging pants. Though, before you could guide him right to your pussy, he slipped it between your thighs instead.

You whined but looked down as he fucked his cock against your pussy once, twice, three times. You were surprised to see so much of the head sticking out in between your thighs.

"Fuck, darling, look at what you do to me." He groaned, grip on your breast tightening just a little bit as he pulled you tighter against him.

"Bet it'll feel better inside, hmmm?"

soren kumar ★ profile

he's a music ICON what do you EXPECT! HELLO? he needs to always be fashionable!

his outfits are definitely the more sleek type though. like button up shirts, turtle necks, leather jackets, skinny jeans, etc. a lot of expensive brands too like gucci and stuff who want him to wear their clothes

he'd be a bit ehhh about sharing his clothes. on one hand, cute! on the other hand, he'd be a bit worried becos what if they're outfits like he needs to wear for brand deals and stuff? so you're only allowed to get your hands on specific clothes of his LOL

well, maybe he'll make an exception if you're not wearing anything underneath...

"Oh, baby." Soren walked into his giant closet to see you sitting on one of the chaise lounges, sweater on your body "Is that the Chanel hoodie?"

You nodded, bashful expression on your face "Sorry! I shouldn't have--!"

"No, it's okay, it looks really good on you!" He immediately shook his head, grin overtaking his entire face as he sat next to you, his expression showing exactly how enamoured he was with you.

He pressed kiss after kiss on your face, his arms wrapping around you "You're so cute! I love how it looks on you!"

"You look like a round little lemon! Why's it so big on you?" He pressed a final kiss on your cheek before just simply pulling you onto his lap, his hands sneaking up into the hoodie.

It's when his enamoured expression turned into one of bewilderment before, finally, settling into a giant smirk.

"Oh, naughty baby." He pressed close and murmured into your ear as he positioned you to sit on his thigh, your bare pussy against the rough fabric of his denim "You're wearing nothing underneath?"

Your face simply flushed hotter, your expression shy as you held onto the ends of the sleeves.

Soren smiled and pressed a kiss under your ear and then another lower, lower, against your neck, to your collar. His finger pulled the hoodie down to expose more of your skin to his lips, so he could leave more of his marks.

"Let me show you exactly what I do to naughty babies like you." He cupped your naked hips and started nudging you forward, trying to get you to rude his thigh.

You just frowned and placed your hands on his shoulders, your thighs spread way too far to even properly hold yourself up. He didn't seem to be taking no for an answer though.

In fact, Soren was strong enough to just move you on his own, rubbing your pussy against his jean-clad thigh.

You whined out his name, half in complaint and half in pleasure.

Instead of listening, he just leaned close to mutter in your ear "As punishment, you have to cum against my thigh first, baby, then you can have my cock, okay?"

eun-jeong yoo ★ profile

eun-jeong's outfits are very cozy; a lot of oversized stuff, cardigans, turtlenecks, sweaters, etc. not a lot of casual clothes like hoodies and sweatpants. maybe a lot of jeans?

but his jeans are the only things that are tight fitting. the rest have to be very loose

he'd be very happy to share his clothes LOL it's kind of like a concept in asian culture?

like the boyfriend shirt or whatever? so he'd be happy to do it! and his heart feels especially warm when he knows that the two of you match

but then if you get a bit more seductive with it... well, his heart might not be the only thing that's warm if you know what i mean LOL

When Eun-jeong saw you, oversized knit sweatshirt on your body, a sliver of your shoulder peeking through the neckline, he felt his heart stop in his chest.

You looked so lovely in the sweater but there was something about it being his sweater that made it all the more enticing.

"Is my sweater nice?" He approached you, gloved hands tracing the outside of your thighs, wondering why you were wandering out of his room in his clothes.

You just grinned sheepishly at him and wrapped your arms around his neck, your body cozy and probably warm with sleep from a nap. He always felt so bad waking you up.

But then, as his hands got higher and higher, slipping into the sweater, he realised that there wasn't anything else there.

His cheeks grew hot and he felt his ears turn bright red. He buried his face into the crook of your exposed neck, nose nuzzling into your collar bones.

"Now, what are you doing with nothing under this sweater, hmmm, puppy?" He muttered against your skin, breath hot and gloved grip only growing tighter.

You laughed and just pulled him closer, your lips brushing against the apples of his red cheeks "I missed you."

Eun-jeong didn't even hesitate as he hiked your legs up, his gloved hands holding you from behind the knees as he wrapped your legs around his waist and hauled you back into his bedroom.

Though, distantly, he couldn't help but notice that your legs sat a bit higher than his waist when he carried you like this. You were so small in his arms, so cuddly. Had it always been like this?

He sat down on the bed with you on his lap and, before you could say anything, his lips were on yours, his kiss soft and gentle as his hands traced your body, making sure that he didn't disturb the sweater.

"Oh, puppy, you should welcome me home like this more often."

fujio watanabe ★ profile

beefy beefy boy, built like a linebacker (whatever that means lol person who knows sports? could not be me?)

he'd prefer not to wear loose clothes but his proportions are kinda weird? so like clothes that would fit right around his torso would be too tight around his arms and clothes that would fight right around his arms would be too lose around the torso

people with big guns problems amirite

so all his clothes are REAL big for him. they have to be really loose around his arms which means they're really loose around his torso

either that or he just goes sleeveless with tank tops, vests, etc

his clothes are all like hoodies (with and without sleeves), sweatshirts, sweatpants, jeans, etc. really does not give a shit about fashion

when he wears tshirts tho, he rolls the shirt sleeves up LOL

neway, he's also doesn't realise that he has a thing for you being smaller but it's becos he's not that tall so he doesn't take note of people's heights unless they're super tall (so he can bust their kneecaps LOL)

definitely isn't surprised at this point though because everything about his darling turns him on

"What the fuck? Is that my tank top?" Fujio squinted at you from the couch as you passed by, his ever present scowl apparent on his face.

You stopped mid-step and turned your head to look at him, confused expression on your face "What? I always wear your clothes, baby."

As he tried to look back and remember if he'd ever seen you wear his clothes before, Fujio couldn't help but stare at how you looked now, with his tank top so loose over your torso.

First of all, he could feel himself chub in his boxers just seeing your side boob. The way the arm holes barely covered any of it, how the straps kept looking like they were about to fall of your cute little shoulders and-- wait, why is that tank top so long on you?

"Come here." He pat his leg and you trotted over, sigh escaping your lips.

When you perched yourself on his lap, that's when it really hit him.

You were small. So so small. He was used to being thick and muscly, used to always being the buffest guy he knew. But he'd never been that big. He was average height.

Yet, compared to you, he was so big.

"Fuck, baby, what the fuck." He moved you a bit so you faced him, your legs on either side of his hips "Dunno why but this shit's making me hard."

"Fujio!" You felt your cheeks heat up but Fujio just chuckled at you, admiring the way his palms looked so large against your waist when he held it.

Without any hesitation, he was pulling his cock out and pressing it against your stomach, watching with a renewed appreciation when he saw how deep it probably got inside you.

The tip didn't touch your belly button but, fuck, did it get close.

"Do I always hit so deep inside you, baby?" His hips lifted a little, his cock grinding against your lower stomach and smearing pre-cum against your skin.

You just pouted and blushed, your hands settling on his upper arms as you ground your hips down "Maybe."

He grinned at your answer before groaning and shifting again to push you down so you were laying beside him on the couch "Okay, fuck, I need to get inside you like yesterday."

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terresdebrume · 6 months ago

Text

"You had another nightmare."

Crystal gives Edwin her most venomous glare. She thinks the effect is kind of ruined by the big bag under her eyes, but still. It's the fucking thought that counts. He wasn't even condescending about it this time it's just. He's the wrong half of the boys for this. Just because Crystal figured out how to exist alongside him doesn't mean they're close.

Well, they are. But they're the kind of close that comes from caring deeply about the same person. Not the kind of close that comes from spontaneous appreciation. Crystal sighs, and lets her head fall down on her knees.

"Please go away," she mumbles.

By her side, Edwin scoffs.

"Believe me, I too wish Charles were here instead of me. However, since he very inconveniently decided to take a walk tonight, I'm afraid you'll have to make do with me."

Crystal sighs again, fingers digging hard into the sides of her knees. The problem, of course, is that Edwin isn't wrong. She's not sleeping again tonight, that's a given. She might be able to sleep properly tomorrow, but she hasn't had a full night since she confronted David, so she's not exactly holding her breath. She could wait for Charles, but then what? Think of the way she kissed him and chicken out? Not fucking helpful.

"It's not a nightmare," she admits at last, bumping her forehead against the bones of her knees. "It's memories."

"Please trust that I am deeply familiar with situations when those two things are one and the same."

It still strikes her, sometimes, how weird Edwin's speech pattern sounds to her ears. Not enough to make her laugh, or at least not anymore. Just weird enough to stretch her mouth into a smile. For Edwin to click his tongue.

"I do not feel like my efforts are being properly appreciated."

"So sorry, your highness," Crystal snorts.

She knows he's rolling his eyes from the way he sighs. It does make her feel better, to be honest. She's not sure if Edwin's doing it on purpose, but there's something about annoying him that works very well to take her mind off the new information in her head. It's simple, too.

Things with Charles are. Awkward. Which is probably a bit her fault for sending somewhat mixed signals, but Charles has been a little off ever since Hell, so he's probably to blame too. A little. The point is: even if he were here, Crystal wouldn't go to him.

Edwin is a shit listener, and even shittier at hiding he doesn't care, but he's here. And easy to annoy. And actually being... Okay. For once. With a sigh, Crystal tilts her head sideways so she can glance at Edwin. He's not looking at her, of course. Is in perfect profile from her, actually. Straight nose, frowning brow, stuffy jacket and vest and collar.

"Thanks," Crystal makes herself say, just to remember she can.

"Oh, don't be sentimental," Edwin says, primly. "Now that you are our official psychic, it is merely good business sense to help you digest your new memories."

Crystal bursts out laughing. It's way too loud for this time of night, and shrill, and more than a little fucking hysterical. In her throat, she can still feel the balls pressing against he windpipe, her skin, her bones. She remembers the way they blocked her air, the irrational fear that she wouldn't be able to get them down. The terror washes over her and turns to more laughter, then wheezing breaths.

"Yeah," she manages between two gasps for air, "they were really fucking hard to swallow."

She doesn't think she'll ever be able to tell Edwin why she laughs until she cries.

Reblogs make the world go round. Please share this story if you like it :)

#Crystal Palace #edwin payne #s: dead boy detectives microfic #Dead Boy Detectives #Matt writes #15n #20n #30n #DBDA Fanfic

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thiefoflight68 · 2 years ago

Text

The Drop - Part One

Bakugou/Eijiro/Fem!Reader

☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎☀︎

The Scene - Part Two

DNI 18+ Language, mature BDSM themes. Consensual control/beating/restraint. Dom/Sub relationship.

You know me, I love my edgy fluff!!

Clutching at your necklace you take a deep breath. "Until five," you murmur. Tears threaten but you look up blinking, you don't have time to reapply your makeup. Trembling, you open your phone, clicking on favorites, you open his profile. Tears slip down your cheeks. "Shit," you sniffle. Fuck it now, you let them fall hot and wet down your face, screw the makeup. Sitting back on your hotel bed, you know you'll be late to the big breakfast opener. Clicking edit you slowly delete three letters and replace it with Eijiro. It looks strange seeing his name, when was the last time you even thought of him as anything but Sir?

It was at the club, after your breakup with another same old, same old type of guy. You'd been curious and found a local club hosting an informative event. Scared as shit you'd paid the cover and snuck in, sitting in the back. Huddled in a chair you watched wide eyed as the man on stage began putting restraints on a woman stripped down to her underwear. A soft chuckle next to you had ripped your gaze away, landing instead on the large redhead that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"First time?" Kiri could see the telltale sign of frightened curiosity.

"Yeah," you breathe out shakily. Pointing to the stage you see the woman now blindfolded, "what's going to happen to her?" You're sure your heart has never beat faster as excitement and fear mingle into a new startling sensation.

"Whatever she asked for." Eijiro raised his small whiskey glass and sipped. He'd seen you slink into the crowd and work your way to the back. There was something about you. Soft but with an edge, he couldn't take his eyes off you, so when you'd sat down, he'd grabbed his drink and beelined for you before someone else gobbled you up.

"Wait!?" You glance up as the man pulled out horrendous looking whips. "Whatever she wants?!?" The woman was standing completely still as the man ran his gloved hands over her body, his whips gently caressing her skin. "I thought," you lean closer to whisper. "I thought it was up to him?"

Smiling Kiri shook his head, "how it happens is up to him but it's a negotiation beforehand. She has soft and hard limits as does he, both know what's allowed."

"Are they going to have sex?" You whisper quietly this time. Red hooded eyes appraise you. The smile staying on his face, Kiri shakes his head again.

"Two different things, this isn't about sex, it's about dom and sub together."

Looking back up, the man has begun whirling his whips, watching horrified you realize the woman is barely flinching, the whips are almost kissing her. "She's not screaming in pain." This earned another chuckle.

"She's in subspace."

"Subspace? What's that?"

"An amazing place but a dom has to be careful, when they're in subspace it can be easy to overwork your submissive."

"Overwork?"

Taking a deep breath Kiri set his drink down and patted the seat next to him. "Sit here, sorry, I don't know your name."

"I'm (y/n)," moving, you slide in next to him. At that moment you notice he's much bigger than you realized. "Oh," escapes from your mouth before you can clamp your lips shut.

"Oh?" Eijiro tilts his head questioningly.

"You're bigger in real life."

"You know who I am?"

Laughing, you nudge him gently, "uh, yeah, Red Riot." His eyes flare in the dimly lit room.

"Why are you here (y/n)?"

Turning back to the stage you watch in fascination. The man is clearly hyper focused on the woman, every move he makes is deliberate and intentional, something flares in your stomach reaching down like a hand grabbing your clit suddenly, you almost groan out loud. "I think this might be something that would make me," you pause searching for the right word. Turning back to Kiri your heart leaps in your throat at the glint in his eyes, "happy?" You finish lamely.

"Happy?"

"Well, I'm not sure about that," you point to the stage, "but I just feel like something's kinda missing."

"Missing?" He echoes back at you.

Fidgeting, you shrug, "I'm successful, I have a good job and I'm good at running my life. I'm strong willed and have a bratty nature sometimes." You blush, "wow, that all just came outta my mouth."

"Good, I like hearing about you, what else?"

Shrugging, you smile, "everyone keeps telling me that I'm a dominant person but," you sigh, "I'm definitely an alpha, I can manage a million things with one hand and whip up a batch of cookies with the other."

"I love cookies," Eijiro winks.

"Oh, well, you know what I mean. I'm the person everyone comes to when something has to get done."

"So, what's missing?"

Taking a deep breath, you decide to just jump in the deep end, what could you lose? That's why you came here in the first place. "Dating men is hard and sex," you glance at Eijiro, "I - I like a man to take charge in the bedroom."

"But you want to take charge of your life?"

"Yeah," you breathe out, "maybe? Not always, but I think I want a man to be..." You look again at the restrained woman, the man is leaning over her and kissing her back, you can see his mouth moving, he's whispering to her. "That," you point to him, "a man to be like that."

That was it, for two months Kiri had talked to you, texting every day to ask about your day, wishing you a good morning and good night. Taking you to dinner or coffee depending on how your schedules worked. He was always probing, asking, finding out so much about you. At first you thought he wanted to date but as he dug deeper you realized he wanted something very different. Something that would be exactly what you were looking for, at least, you hoped. Then, it happened, when you'd finally slept with him, he'd taken you to such heights you'd begged him to take your body, your mind, to take everything. He'd looked at you with red eyes glowing.

"If you really want this, then I'm no longer Eijiro to you."

You sniffle at the memory, that was it, the last time you'd heard his name between the two of you.

"From now on I'm Sir."

He'd given you the collar a week later and you wore it anytime you were together. Sometimes you'd wear it out but since you weren't a full-time 24/7 sub, you generally didn't unless he was with you. For eighteen months you'd been in bliss. Being his submissive was more than you'd hoped, you'd always thought having someone tell you what to do would chaff. You were an alpha, you made the rules in your life, but it just didn't. He was demanding and exacting, doled out punishment when you were bratty, but he was never cruel or mean. He always held you and took care of you after every session. Then, your world collapsed. Four months ago, you were promoted, to head up the largest division of your company. A huge accomplishment, you'd been elated and devastated all at the same time. You had to move across the country. You had to leave Sir. At first you were going to turn it down.

"NO way!" you crossed your arms staring at Sir. "I'm not leaving you."

"Come here."

Getting up, you sat in his lap, he cradled you, rubbing on your back. "Beautiful girl, you are talented and amazing." He nuzzled your neck. "Don't let this stop you, you're going places. This was a time for you to learn and decide what you want in your personal life, now you need to conquer your professional life."

He'd been right, he always was, you'd moved away and tried long distance, but intimacy was so important to both of you that it began to show cracks and strain in the relationship. Finally, after trying to connect over the last two weeks, your phone had rung at 4am. Sitting straight up you had blinked realizing you were in a hotel. Sir flashed on the screen. Grabbing the phone, you clicked answer. "Sir?"

"Baby girl?"

His voice, smooth and rough at the same time tickled your senses. That was all it took for endorphins to flood your brain, your body felt the prickly sensation of chills as happiness coursed through your veins. You wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. "I miss you."

"I know, where are you?"

"Some Pro-hero conference my company sponsored, that you declined!"

"I did?" He chuckled, "someone's gotta save the world while everyone else is playing."

"Ugh! You could've been here Sir!" You grouse.

"I know, but that would've just made things harder to stop baby girl." He sighed heavily.

"No, we don't need to stop!"

"Listen," his tone firm, "we both know you crave touch desperately, it's what makes you tick."

"It does," you can barely speak as your throat constricts around your sorrow.

"Plus, I know you've been wanting more, even with me. I think you're ready to find someone full-time."

"Not right now!" You clench your jaw, just the thought of someone else makes your skin crawl.

"It's time (y/n), I'm never gonna tell you what to do after today. We'll be back to just being friends again, okay?"

"Okay," you mumble, your head almost fuzzy from despair.

"After I hang up, you're going to go back to bed, don't think about this. It's early there and you have a big day today. When you wake up, you're going to open your phone and change my profile name back to Eijiro. Hear me?"

"I do Sir, I mean," you stopped, you weren't ready to say his name. "I have one favor to ask."

"What?" His voice is clipped, you cringe at his tone.

"Can I wear my collar one more day?" He went quiet, you knew he was thinking, debating on the answer.

"Until five your time. At the end of the day, I expect a photo of your throat with no collar at 5:01 sharp. That's the last command you'll ever get from me."

"No punishment if I don't?" You tease, the bratty side of you rearing its ugly head.

"What do you think?" His voice stern.

Sucking in a deep breath, you nod, "I'll send the photo."

"You know, when you get back, there's a friend of mine that lives near you. He might be someone you could connect with, until you find your 24/7."

"No, I - I can't even think about that."

"Well, when you're ready, let's talk. Maybe I can come for a visit, I'll introduce you. We can all hang out as friends."

"I'd like that Eijiro," you frown, the name just felt wrong in your mouth.

You'd finally hung up the phone and followed his orders exactly, your brain and body never fought him. You'd fallen back asleep and now, you'd changed his name.

Heading back to the bathroom, you quickly fix your makeup, the first texts asking where you were starting to come through your phone. "Time to be the boss lady," you grimace and adjust your necklace carefully, touching the small circle smiling, "until five."

The day had been hectic, as always everyone was running to you for help. The kitchen had messed up on the lunch specifications for the food allergies and you'd had to jump in and order from a local restaurant twenty gluten free meals. The panel was going well now though and you'd been assured that the drinks and dinner buffet was getting set up as the day was winding down.

Sitting near the back you listened to several of the Pro-Heroes debate different issues. Watching the five on stage, your eyes kept moving back to the spiky blonde sitting at the end. Every time he talked, you chuckled. He was gorgeous, even from the distance you could see he was big, almost like, your brain had to pause... Eijiro, red eyes too but he was so different. Where Eijiro was patient and caring, you could see Bakugou was edgy and forceful, not waiting for anything. Standing up, the time for the panel was ending, it was almost 5:00. Clutching your collar, you take a deep breath.

"Explosion! You're not listening to what I'm saying."

"Dunce Head, not only did I listen but I'm freaking disagreeing." Katsuki huffed, eyeing the suits stuffed in the room. He hated these gigs, somewhere he'd crossed his wires and accidentally accepted. "I think shoving people into rocket ships and shooting them into outer space is ridiculous." He turned off the microphone, he was fucking done. In the back a woman stood up and began pacing along the rear panels. He arched a brow, now there was someone that knew how to dress. The outfit was impeccable but sexy, clinging to her curves and still leaving some to the imagination. Sighing, he waited for the other extras to finish babbling, now Raccoon Eyes was going off on some tangent. They looked back at him, he turned on the microphone, "what?"

"She asked you a question," Sero nodded to Mina.

"Look, I appreciate everyone coming out to hear all of this but just because we're Pro-Heroes doesn't mean we're smart, I mean listen to Dunce Head here." The crowd laughed. He saw sexy suit begin moving quickly towards them. He smiled, of course, she was probably in charge. "I mean, we're really just a bunch of meat heads," seeing the reaction on sexy suit's face, he chuckled. Her pace doubled as she launched herself up to the stage.

Snatching the microphone from Bakugou, you smile at the crowd. "This has been a great panel. Thank you to all of our Pro-Heroes for participating, drinks will be served right outside and the dinner buffet will be out on the lawn. It's a beautiful evening so let's enjoy." A round of applause rippled loudly through the large ballroom. Clicking the microphone off, you glare at the blonde sitting on the stool, his big body balanced precariously. He beamed at you. "No," you waggle your finger at him. "You almost messed this up, no smiling, go get a drink and be nice."

"I've been fucking nice all day."

Hands on your hips, you shake your head, "may I advise you next time Mr. Explosion, if my invitation shows up in your mailbox, just say no!" Turning, you smile at the others taking their microphones. One of the techs running up on stage helping with the equipment.

"(y/n)," you look up to see the CEO crossing over to the stage calling your name.

"Oh, excuse me everyone, do you mind meeting our CEO for a moment? He's been hoping to meet you, but the day's been so crazy."

"Sure," Sero stops to wait with Denki, Mina and Shinso. "Oh, but Bakugou is already leaving."

"What?!" You can see his spiky blonde head moving out to the bar. "I'll be right back." Jumping down from the stage your feet scream at you. "I know, I know, later I promise a full foot massage, but I gotta get him back," your whisper to your aching feet.

"Bakugou," you call as you weave through the crowd. "Bakugou!" Trying to get close, you finally call out loudly, "KATSUKI!" Several heads turn and look, including his. Blushing red, you motion for him to come back. Even from the distance you hear him click his tongue, nodding he turns and walks back.

"Miss me?" He laughs.

"Almost, not really," you laugh nervously. "But my CEO does and he really wants to meet all of you." Fidgeting, you peek at your phone. You don't have much time and you really want to sit quietly for at least five minutes before taking it off. If this brat will just cooperate.

Peering at you, your hand catches his eye. He tips his head. "That's a beautiful necklace."

"What?" You glance down, pulling your hand away. You didn't know you were even touching it. "Thanks, I um, would you go back and say hi for me?" He stands looking at you, red eyes simmering a soft crimson color. Stepping closer, he stands over you looking down. Slipping his finger under your necklace, he looks closely at the design, a blonde brow arches.

"Depends on how you ask."

The heat from his body was almost oppressive, he was so close. He was big, bigger than Eijiro. His black shirt and pants covering what you could see now was a very well-built body. "I'm not sure what you mean... um, please?" You brow furrows as you back up. "Could you please go back and say hi to my CEO?"

"Good enough," he smiles, turning as he walks back to the stage.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, you head to the bar. Checking your phone, you see you have three minutes left. The bar is relatively quiet as most people have spilled out onto the large lawn and are enjoying the music and drinks outside. Waving towards the bartender, you smile wide, "vodka tonic, please." You point to the last chair at the bar, heading to your seat, you sit, leaning on the wall, exhausted.

"Here you go," setting the drink down, the bartender winks and heads back to take more orders.

Taking a long sip, you pull out your phone. Using the glass as a stand, you flip to selfie mode. The shot is perfect, framing your neck. Reaching up, you unclasp the necklace and hit the timer, counting down, 3..2..1.. The phone clicks as the photo shows in the corner. Opening your texts, you send it to him. It's 5:01 exactly. His last command. You try not to think about it, realization dawning that it's over. The icy chill floods your brain first, like someone dumping a bucket of freezing water over your head. You can feel your body starting to shake. "Fuck," you hold yourself, wrapping your arms around your body. "Not fucking now," you seethe at yourself.

"Hey (y/n)."

Sitting up quickly, you clamp your mouth shut trying to stop your chattering teeth, your brain is frozen solid, you try to focus. "Mr. President," you can hear your words sound slightly slurred, you see him eye your drink. "Sorry, just got the chills suddenly, long day." You can feel your body and brain starting to disconnect. Not now, not now. You manage to keep your eyes on the President.

"Bakugou was asking about you," as he turns you see him, your vision is so limited you hadn't even noticed him there.

"He was?" you try to sound cheerful, but the sadness is starting to hit now. Glancing at the doors, you need to get out.

"He said he didn't get to meet the person in charge, so here you go. Katsuki, please meet (y/n)."

"Thanks," Katsuki pauses, he can see something is wrong. Your face is pale, deathly white and a shimmer of sweat has sprung up along your forehead. Those beautiful eyes are darting between him and the door. You look like a deer caught in headlights.

"I'll leave you two alone, I have to go get the ceremony started." Turning he disappears into the crowd leaving you staring at those intense red eyes, which were staring at your neck.

"What happened to your necklace?"

"Ng," you can barely think now, "it's, um...gone, time to be gone." Backing up, you turn, "I have to go," you force out in a whisper.

"Wait, are you okay?" Settling his hands on your shoulders, he can feel your body shaking uncontrollably. "Shit, are you sick?"

"Room," you whisper, eyes looking up desperately at him. "Please," you beg softly.

"What room?"

"515," almost collapsing, you feel his arm hold you steady as he guides you out of the crowded room and to the elevator. "Should I call a doctor?"

"No, not like that." You know what's happening. You've dealt with it so many times over the past eighteen months, but never alone, not without Eijiro.

Getting off the elevator, you fumble in your purse pulling out your key. Your hand shaking so badly, he reaches out to hold your wrist steady. "Thanks," you mumble. Opening the door, you practically fall onto the bed. Yanking off your heels, you strip from your suit.

"Ah, (y/n)?" Katsuki can see your beyond gone. Your eyes practically rolling back in your head, you're shaking so hard now. Grimacing as he watches you try to unbutton your blouse, he sits next to you and gently begins to unbutton. "Shhh, hang on."

"Th-thank you."

Pulling off your blouse, he reaches behind and unzips your skirt, slowly pulling it down your legs. Looking back up, he squints at you, something clicks in place. "Are you dropping?"

Eyes wide, you crawl into the bed, pulling the comforter around you. Closing your eyes, you nod.

"Your necklace, that was a collar, wasn't it? You took it off tonight. Did your Dom leave you?"

Tears trickling down your cheeks, you shake your head. "No, moved apart."

"And that happened today?" Katsuki rubs your body, his big hands moving slowly over every curve warming you up.

"Kind of, today was his last command," you manage a coherent sentence, you almost laugh. You could hear his tongue click.

"Can I talk to him?"

"To Sir?" You shake your head, "I mean, Eijiro?" Blonde brows snap upward.

"Wait, Eijiro? You're her?"

"Her? Who's her?"

"Fuck," grabbing his phone Katsuki hit speed dial, listening to the phone ring pacing the floor. "C'mon fucker," he heard him pick up.

"Fucker here," Eijiro laughs, "what's up Bakugou? Haven't heard your snarling voice in a while."

"Hey Red, listen up. I've got (y/n) here and she's in a full sub drop. She's in bad shape, I need you to help me out."

"Fuck, wait? What the fuck? You're with (y/n)?"

"Yeah, something about taking her collar off today?"

"She sent me the picture right at 5:01 your time."

"You broke a Dom Sub relationship over the fucking phone?" Katsuki was ready to punch him, what an idiot.

"We had to, no choice! Fuck, you're together?" Eijiro couldn't quite wrap his head around what he was telling him.

"I'm at some event her company is hosting."

"When do you go to that shit?"

"Shitty Hair! Fuck, listen up, what does she need me to do?"

"Oh, sorry man. Well, she likes grilled cheese, hot chocolate, stupid movies and um, well." Eijiro laughed shyly. "She likes it when I cuddle with her naked."

Glancing down at you, Katsuki lets out a sigh, "okay, got it."

"Take care of her Kat, she's special, not like anyone I've ever subbed before. She's the one I mentioned to you, that moved near you. I thought...well I guess you've met now. She gets really big sub drops. Really emotional and when she finally releases, let's completely go. No one like her. Let me know once she's back to normal."

"Yeah, okay." Hanging up Katsuki squats down, sliding his thumb under your chin, he pulls you up to stare into your eyes. "I just talked to Eijiro."

"You did?"

Watching your eyes light up at his name makes him grit his teeth, no reason to get jealous he chides himself. "He told me how to help you, so hang in there," grabbing the remote he punches in the guide. "Pick out a movie you want to watch and I'll order you some food."

"Can I have some ice cream?"

"You want ice cream?" He smiles softly, "not hot chocolate or grilled cheese?"

"No more, that's over," blinking back tears, you twist your lips thinking. "Now I want ice cream and a hamburger."

Laughing, Katsuki smoothes your hair back, "you are something else aren't you? Proud of you princess, gonna get through this quick, okay?"

"Okay," burrowing into the comforter, you begin clicking through the movies. An old Marilyn Monroe black and white pops on, you turn up the sound and nestle in to watch.

After hanging up with room service, Katsuki moves around to the other side of the bed and lays on the comforter. Putting his hand on your body, he can feel you shivering. "Still cold?"

"Yeah, but it'll go away," you try to sound strong.

"Eijiro mentioned that he cuddled with you?" Pulling down the comforter wrapped around your head, he peeks into the small opening. "Why don't we do that? It might help you warm up."

"W-What?" Pushing back the cover completely, you stare at him incredulously, "but you don't know me, I don't know you!"

Taking a deep breath, Katsuki rubs his hand through his spikes. "Listen (y/n), I'm a Dom like Eijiro. We got into this lifestyle at the same time. I understand what's happening and how important it is for you to get through this quickly, otherwise you'll get really depressed, right?"

"Yeah," tears well in your eyes, "you really understand?"

"I do, so I'm only take off my shirt, gonna leave on my pants and hold you, is that enough?"

"Yeah, that's good," a soft red blush flushes your cheeks.

"That's cute," Bakugou smiles, touching your nose. "I like that princess." Unbuttoning his shirt, he pulls himself in under the covers. Sliding up behind you, he gently cradles you against his chest. Laying one arm down the length of your body.

His heat was like a furnace, thawing your skin. The chills coursing through your body retreat as waves of his body heat ripple through you. It was like the sun pushing through the clouds on a rainy day, sighing softly, you felt every muscle that was clenched finally relax.

"There you go," he coos in your ear. "You're beautiful," he kisses your cheek softly, running his large hand down your hip and leg, warming you. "Simply and absolutely stunning."

"Thanks," you murmur, feeling your body going limp. Your eyes grow heavy, you feel yourself getting tugged down. Closing your eyes, you let yourself drift away.

You weren't sure how long you were out, but a knock at the door startles you awake.

"Shhh,"Katsuki murmurs. "It's just your food, I'm gonna get up and get everything for us." Climbing out of bed, he pulls on his shirt quickly answering the door.

You could hear him chatting with the room service clerk briefly before pulling in the small table, letting the door close behind him, he was alone. Letting out a long breath, relief washed over you. You were worried he'd let the person in. You hated seeing strangers when you dropped. Watching him you almost laugh, he was a complete stranger. So...Why did it feel like you'd known him forever? Pushing the table next to the bed, he lifts the lid on your hamburger and ice cream. Your stomach growls loudly. He scowls slightly.

"When did you eat last?"

"Um, oh...at the, um," you struggle to sit up with the comforter still wrapped around you. You're embarrassed to admit you've barely eaten.

"Don't lie to me."

Your eyes snap up staring at him, your stomach quivers deliciously from the tone of his voice. "Breakfast," you reply automatically. Looking down you open the ketchup pouring it on your hamburger. What the hell just happened?

"Good girl," a smile tugs on his lips. "Then you need to eat." Pulling up a chair, he sits across from you lifted another lid. "Ordered myself one too," he piles everything on grinning at the huge stack.

"Thanks, I hate eating by myself." You munch quietly on your burgers. Marilyn was running around on the screen with her classic hairdo and sunglasses. You've seen the movie a million times but it always makes you laugh. Every now and then you sneak a peek at the large blonde. His red eyes catch you and he smirks at you, silently chewing. You can feel the heat on your cheeks.

"Looks like your chills are gone."

"They are, thanks." Your body is finally relaxed. "I'm not ready to come out of the blanket though," you pout softly.

"Whatever you want princess," finishing his hamburger, Katsuki picks up the bowl of ice cream. "Ready?"

"Yeah," you push the last of your burger away. Standing, he moves the table out of the way and drags his chair to the edge of the bed, sitting down in front of you. Spooning the melting sweetness, he holds up the spoon to your mouth.

Drawing back, you give him an incredulous look. "What are you doing?"

"Feeding you."

Rolling your eyes, you laugh, "I can feed myself."

"Do you want ice cream?"

Again, his tone, a different kind of shiver races up your spine. "Yes," you nod. He holds up the spoon waiting. Opening your mouth, he grins wickedly, letting you tongue the icy cream off the spoon.

"Better when someone feeds you."

Blushing again, you smile, "it is."

"More?"

"Well of course," you grin. "I promise to eat every last drop, I love my sweets."

"A sweet tooth huh?" He holds up another gooey spoonful.

"My whole life, I always preferred sweets to salt."

"Not me, I'm the salty kind."

"Yeah you are," laughing you dip down hiding your smile. You can hear him clicking his tongue.

"I'm feeding you ice cream and I get shit?"

"Sorry."

"Yeah, we'll see, payback's a bitch princess." Spooning the ice cream slowly, he finally holds up the empty bowl. "Here," he hands you the bowl, his red eyes blazing.

"Here what?"

"You said every drop."

"I did, I ate it all."

"Nope, there's still some in the bowl, if you said every drop, then you mean it. Why don't you finish it?"

Looking at the empty bowl, you furrow your brow. "O-Okay, can you hand me the spoon?" There really wasn't enough to scoop.

"This bowl is gonna have to be licked out Princess," Katsuki cocks a grin at you.

"Licked?" You repeat, your jaw falling open. You shake your head. "I'm on a sub drop and you want me to lick the bowl?"

Reaching out, he runs his finger down your cheek lightly. "You promised me and in my world promises are always kept."

His tone again, a shiver races across your skin. Your eyes grow wide. "But.."

"Someone's gotta get every bit." Taking the bowl he lifts it, "I can lick it for you, since you're on a drop, would you like that?"

Staring at him you swallow hard, your stomach bursts with butterflies as every nerve comes alive. He's not really asking. "Yes," the word Sir almost slips out. You bite your lip.

"You got it," locking his red eyes onto yours, he begins sweeping his tongue through the melted ice cream, slurping loudly for effect. Winking, he never looks away but carefully twists the bowl, letting his tongue devour every inch. Setting the now clean bowl on the table he licks his lips.

"Was it good?" Your voice is small, your heart thrumming heavily in your chest. All you can think about is his tongue.

"I bet you taste better," chuckling he stands and heads to the bathroom to wash the ice cream off his face.

Flipping over you stare at his bare back, muscles rippling as he walks. You realize that you're not breathing. Did he really just say that? Turning out the bathroom light, he climbs back into bed.

"I think I'm warm now."

"Well, that's too bad, 'cause this is where I'm staying tonight."

"Tonight?" You squeak back.

"Yep, Eijiro made me promise to look after you until the end. Since I had to lick your ice cream bowl, I'd say you're still dropping, so," he pulls you back into his arms. "I'll stay." Caressing your arm softly, he kisses your shoulder.

"Alright, um," you glance over your shoulder, "did you want to take off your suit pants and be more comfortable?"

A grin splits his face, "I was hoping you'd ask."

"Just to be comfortable!" You huff as he shimmies out of his pants.

"Of course, comfort." Pulling you back into his arms, he holds you, waiting until you relax.

"Thank you, Bakugou," you whisper. You can hear him grunt.

"You don't like that?"

"Nope."

"Katsuki?"

"For now."

Turning, you look up into his red eyes gleaming at you. "For now?"

Smiling, he reaches up to turn off the light. "For now, you can call me Katsuki, but," his lips brush your cheek, "I think there's a better name for you to call me someday."

🛑TOL - This was so much fun to write!

#bakugou x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bakugo squad #mha fanfiction #bnha bakugou #ao3 fanfic #bakugou smut #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki x you #eijirou x reader

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osunism · 4 months ago

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Summary: A young widowed sorceress seeks protection under the aegis of the Honored One, but he has a better idea for keeping her out of the clutches of her dangerous clan.

Warnings: Gojo might be a lil' toxic, there's some smut in this story [a lot actually the attraction is pretty instant], and it's already on AO3 if that's the format you prefer.

Protection details are light work—usually. Gojo hasn’t failed a mission since the Star Plasma fiasco in high school, and even that had been an extraordinary circumstance. It is rare that one crosses his desk, requiring at most a first grade sorcerer for success, so when the Higher Ups call him directly to assign him to protect another sorcerer—a foreigner, no less—he gets curious. And when Gojo gets curious, he starts investigating.

The dossier alone was enough to spark his interest, from the woman’s name to the information about her background. An entire clan of sorcerers living abroad! It is one of the rare instances of sorcerers being born outside Japan, and he wonders if even that is more xenophobic mythos perpetuated by the conservatives pulling the strings in the jujutsu world. Not only is the woman he’s to protect from a sorcerer clan—and a powerful one at that—she is essentially royalty.

What intrigues him is that she was married to a non-sorcerer. Some nobody named Jin Hayashi. He was killed in a car accident a year prior, and since then his widow, Asabé Hayashi, has been living in seclusion in a modest house in the suburbs. He’s even more surprised that she is not far from the school…and that he has not once sensed her cursed energy.

He learns why when she arrives at Jujutsu Tech for the first time.

After his meeting and acceptance of the mission, Gojo finds her in his office, and for a moment he watches her. Her back is to him, and the first thing he notes is how…delicate she looks. He catches a glimpse of her profile: burnished sienna skin, a sculpted nose, and full lips. Her eyes are the color of honey, and her lashes are black and full, curling on her cheek like the crests of waves.

“Do you mean to stare at me all morning?” Her voice is soft but sultry, like smoke or fog flowing over the serene architecture of a zen garden. Gojo watches her through his blindfold a while longer, his smile unwavering, although it curls a little more at her words. He comes in, shutting the door behind him.

“It’s an old habit,” he says without missing a beat. “I like to read the room before entering. Kind of an essential skill in my line of work.”

Asabé does not smile, even as Gojo comes around to sit at his desk, and he gets a good look at her. If he wasn’t staring before, he’s staring now.

Asabé Hayashi is one of the most beautiful women he has ever seen. Even to say it does not do her justice. She is striking, and he finds himself ignoring the usual analysis of his Six Eyes in favor of just looking at her. The woman is a fucking knockout and he’s seen her dead husband. Gojo is wondering how a plain nobody like Jin Hayashi won the hand of foreign royalty. He’s also wondering how long it’ll take him to talk this woman into—

“You are Satoru Gojo, I presume,” she says. “I was told that you could help me with my problem.”

“That’s what they tell me,” Gojo says, trying not to sound breathless. God she’s incredible. Her face alone is a work of art. He wants to trace those perfect brows with his thumb, those high cheekbones, and that mouth.

“So,” he says, even as part of his thoughts turn decidedly not wholesome or businesslike. “Assassins! Sounds exciting. But I’ve a few questions of my own before we continue. My bosses were a little vague on the details so you’ll forgive me if this sounds redundant.” He doesn’t sound the least bit regretful but she looks at him, impassive, gesturing for him to continue.

“You’re a sorceress,” he says, watches her stiffen a little at the simple statement. Very interesting. “And from my understanding, you have a powerful inherited technique, and a powerful sorcerer clan. Why not go to them for protection? And what is stopping you from protecting yourself?”

Asabé’s beautiful mouth thins into a grim line.

“Gojo, my family is the one sending their enforcers after me,” she says and his brows go up in mild surprise. “And as for why I cannot protect myself…it is because of a binding vow.”

Gojo nods, understanding.

“Does this vow forbid you from using your technique?”

“Only against my family,” Asabé explains. “A long time ago, my clan was nearly wiped out because of vicious infighting. As a way to prevent this from happening in the future, my ancestors made a binding vow forbidding their descendants from ever turning our gifts against one another. As you can expect, it has led to some very creative ways for more ambitious members of the clan to rise in the ranks.”

Gojo snorts. “I wouldn’t know, but I’ll take your word for it. So, you’ve got a family who wants to kill you, but why? Your technique is valuable, why lose it by killing you?”

Asabé blinks, visibly confused. Then, she gasps.

“Ah, I see, it must have been lost in translation. No, they are not trying to kill me. They are trying to drag me back home.”

And all at once, Gojo understands.

“You’re hiding from them.”

Asabé says nothing, but he sees the tension in her jaw, the hard swallow in her throat, and the way her honey-hued eyes harden in cold fury.

“Yes,” she admits, and he can see how it nettles and stings her pride to do so. “It is why I have sealed my cursed energy to make it more difficult for them to locate me. But…living in Japan, I still stand out, as you can see.”

Gojo laughs. “Miss Hayashi did you just make a joke? I do believe the ice is finally beginning to thaw!”

“Gojo…” she says, and her voice sounds like a purr and a growl all at once. He takes a moment to try not thinking about how that voice would sound panting and moaning in his ear, saying things so obscene it would make the devil himself blush with shame. He really needs to get laid soon, but since seeing her he’s been thinking about it. God she’s fucking gorgeous.

She clears her throat, rather conspicuously.

“In any case,” she continues, “it’s simply more prudent to tap in with a community that can offer me protection. It’s not like I can go to the police about this kind of thing.”

Gojo knows all about demanding families. Not that his is very demanding—he does as he pleases, but he also knows what’s expected of him. No, he suspects Asabé’s family is not unlike the Zenin clan. For that alone, he spares her some pity. He can’t imagine being seen as nothing but a potential brood mare for more heirs. No wonder she ran off to marry a nobody. Probably vastly preferable to being sequestered away to pop out babies.

“Well, we have a few options,” Gojo says. “We can keep you here, at Jujutsu Tech. Tengen’s barriers are ancient and powerful, and we’ve vast resources if you want to study, meditate, whatever you want to do to pass the time. You also wouldn’t be required to seal yourself. But, you would be required to stay on the grounds in order to remain protected. I also won’t always be here to keep an eye on you, which I’m sure is counterintuitive to your request.”

Asabé’s brow furrows as she considers his words. Gojo waits patiently, studying how her blood races in her veins, her pulse quickens, her heart rate rises. She’s running through all the scenarios in her head, he can feel that much. He knows without having to ask that she’s afraid to remove the seal and reveal herself, but he’s so perishingly curious about how powerful she actually is. Part of him really wants to know if this woman’s ability is worth his protection.

Asabé’s gaze clears as she blinks, having weighed that option. He can already tell she doesn’t want to be confined to the campus. He doesn’t blame her. As secluded and protected as this place is, it has been breached many times before by highly skilled sorcerers. He has no idea what enforcers her family has at their disposal, but if they’re on equal footing with his family’s wealth and influence, he suspects curse users will be making their way here in no time. And he’s not always on the campus grounds.

He briefly remembers Riko, and his smile almost fades.

“What’s the other option?” Asabé asks, breaking the silence. Gojo sits back in his chair.

“Well, the other option is you would be staying with me.” He tries not to look smug but the thought of this lovely creature walking around his home is…tempting. The circumstances being what they are, he can hardly be blamed for being a tad excited, right?

Asabé’s eyes go wide.

“Is…” Her voice wavers a little. “Is that appropriate?”

Gojo turns out his hands in a shrug. “Does it matter? I’ve got a spare bedroom if you’re worried. And I can guarantee your safety more that way. Trust me, there’s nowhere safer in this whole country save for Hokkaido.”

Asabé considers it. She has no intention of freezing her ass off in Hokkaido for the rest of her life. She frowns again, clearly not liking the idea of being roommates with the man who is essentially her bodyguard for the duration of her ordeal. Her gaze slides away, and she bites her lip. Gojo has a brief image of her doing that with his mouth on her throat.

He really needs to get laid. Fuck.

“Fine,” she says, terse and exasperated. “Do I have to wear the seal there too?”

Gojo shrugs. “You don’t. But if it makes you feel better you can keep it on. I have to admit I am curious about your technique, though.”

Asabé’s cheeks go warm and she looks away again.

“It’s not relevant to your mission, and I try not to use it if I don’t have to.”

“Your choice,” Gojo says nonchalantly. “So, shall I send someone to pick up whatever you need and have it brought over, or are you averse to that too?”

Asabé frowns again, glaring at him.

“I am not going to risk revealing myself if I don’t have to, Gojo,” she says sternly. “But yes: I would appreciate having my things brought to your…residence. Will I be confined there or am I allowed to come and go?”

“How about we cross that bridge when we come to it?” Gojo suggests. “And trust me: it won’t feel at all like house arrest once you’re there. I’ve been told I’m pretty entertaining to be around.”

Asabé stares at him, clearly unamused. Gojo lets out a little scoff. Sheesh. Tough crowd.

When Asabé first meets Gojo her initial thought is that this lanky, arrogant, nonchalant idiot cannot possibly protect her. However, his cursed energy speaks volumes and then some. She felt him behind her before she deigned to turn her head and get a glimpse of him. And she is pretty sure that blindfold does absolutely nothing to hinder his sight. She wagers he’s got better eyesight than a fucking owl.

And even his eyes could not discern her technique, meaning the seal she has placed on herself is working.

After her meeting with Gojo, he makes a few calls, getting his staff on the job of moving her into the guest bedroom of his penthouse apartment overlooking the sprawl of the Tokyo metropolis from the safety of a quiet building nestled in the hills of the city’s outer limits. Asabé gets her first glimpse of the building during the drive: a sleek and modern high-rise of highly reflective glass. It’s the kind of place one imagines their future dark romance novel hero resides.

In other words: it’s exactly how she imagined Gojo’s choice of residence would be.

They enter the building together, greeted by a vigilant doorman who bows low to Gojo, holding the door open for both of them. Asabé ignores how the doorman looks askance at her out the corner of his eye, and she makes sure to give him her most impervious and imperious stare as the elevator doors close. She feels grim satisfaction as her withering look makes the doorman avert his gaze quickly and guiltily.

The ascent is a silent one, broken only by Gojo unwrapping Jolly Ranchers to suck on. Out of the corner of her eye, she studies him. His skin is like alabaster, his hair as pale as starlight, but he keeps that damnable blindfold on so she can’t see his eyes. She wonders briefly if his eyes are sensitive to light. Back in her homeland, it is not uncommon for powerful sorcerers to develop physical ailments, especially considering how a lot of sorcerers suffer from brain damage when overusing techniques.

Still, for as silly as his blindfold looks to her, she has no doubt he can see quite clearly.

“Now who’s staring, hm?” Gojo says slyly, his smile becoming a smirk. Asabé’s cheeks go hot and she wishes she wore her sunglasses so she could stare in peace. Even then, she’s sure Gojo’s senses are superhuman.

“I was just…” She struggles to find words because there are none to say. She was staring, even out of her peripheral vision, she was marveling. She’s heard of Gojo’s good looks, as well as the reputation those looks entail. And now she’s exiting an elevator into his penthouse. Once they cross the threshold, she feels nervous, as if she doesn’t belong here.

Everything about Gojo’s apartment is sleek and modern, although there are trappings of tradition amidst the decor, and she can feel something inside her dim and muted as she crosses the threshold. She hesitates. Gojo looks over his shoulder.

“You can remove your seal if you like,” he says casually, “this place is highly secure against cursed intrusions. It’s also insulated in case I have to get a little crazy. Can’t destroy the place in a fit of pique.”

Asabé’s hand goes to her chest, and Gojo can see the seal nestled there beneath her clothes. A necklace? How simple…and curious. As they remove their shoes, he leads her through the kitchen, giving her the grand tour. It is extremely rare that he brings anyone to his personal home, even rarer that he brings them to the ancestral Gojo estate. Still, he doubts her intentions are to bring him harm. She seems skittish, her eyes seeming to be expecting attackers to jump out from behind the next corner.

“And here’s you,” Gojo says, leading her to the guest bedroom. Asabé peers inside. It’s lavish in comparison to say, a hotel or motel, but it is no less than what she expects from a man like Gojo. The bed is large, facing a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook a sprawling green space and beyond the carpet of lights that is Tokyo proper, and there’s even a walk-in closet. She smiles, seeing that her things have already been dropped off for her to unpack at her leisure.

“My room is down the hall,” Gojo explains. “I’m here when I’m not working or teaching, and since you are the job, looks like I get to be home way more often than usual. Help yourself to the kitchen—I don’t cook much, but if there’s anything you need please let the concierge know. Groceries get delivered so there’s no need for you to risk going out on your own, and the housekeepers are here once a week to clean. Not much, but it keeps me from getting lost in the clutter of the day to day. Pretty sweet, right?”

Asabé smiles. “Thank you, Gojo,” she says with a respectful bow. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your assistance. I’ll try not to get underfoot.”

Gojo grins. He’s not worried about her getting underfoot but the way she looks right now he wants her to get under him somehow.

“Let me not keep you,” he says. “Make yourself at home and we can go over your situation in more detail, hm? Maybe order some Thai food. You like Thai food?”

Asabé smiles, almost shyly. “Thai sounds wonderful. I’ll unpack and freshen up. And again: thank you.”

As Gojo leaves her, he can see her gaze lingering on his back, curious and hesitant, as if there is more she wishes to say, but she vanishes into her room, the door shutting softly behind her.

In the guest room, Asabé takes a moment to really take it all in. Her husband has been dead for almost a full year, and her family has been searching for her relentlessly. She thinks about how everything went so wrong, and dreads being dragged back into bondage. She thinks about how Jin saved her without realizing it, and all he got for his troubles was an early grave.

Asabé stares out of the windows into the well-manicured park below, and into Tokyo proper, then she begins the long process of unpacking her things. She opts to shower in lieu of simply freshening up, and when she emerges, she feels less weary and more clear-headed. It’s a lovely bathroom, with a deep, freestanding soaking tub, and a shower surrounded by pristine glass. Above the tub is a skylight. She loves that, and anticipates many relaxing bubble baths in the future, staring at the stars. She slips into a short but simple sundress, and pulls her long black hair into a single braid over her shoulder.

When she emerges from the bedroom, she nearly runs into Gojo.

“Oh!” She cries, gasping as he catches her by the shoulders. His hands are soft and warm, much larger than hers, and she looks up at him, wide eyed. His blindfold is off, and she glimpses his face for the first time.

She has never seen such a face, save in the descriptions of angels and their impossible beauty. She stares, momentarily stunned. His eyes are indescribable to her, a blue that defies explanation, as if they are living pieces of the cosmos. His hands tighten on her shoulders only slightly as her gaze slowly studies his face. His mouth is soft and pink, and he’s not smiling, but nor does he look unhappy.

“I’m sorry…” She whispers, trying to find her voice and wondering why it’s so small. Gojo tilts his head forward, those eyes studying her in full as he smiles.

“Do I make you nervous?” He asks, his voice rich and deep, and Asabé shivers in response, unable to help herself. No, not nervousness, but something she’s not quite ready to confront. Slowly, oh so slowly, Gojo releases her shoulders, and she takes a small step back. It’s his turn to study her.

Her dress is beautiful, but Gojo thinks this only because it looks good on her. The straps are so delicate, as if they are made to be slipped from her shoulders. He can see the the swell of her breasts beneath, and spots the thin gold chain around her neck, and the seal hanging from it.

It’s her wedding band, he realizes. The seal is her wedding band.

“You’ve been sealing yourself since your marriage?” Gojo asks. Asabé nods quietly.

“It was the only way I could live here peacefully,” she says softly. “Jin didn’t know. I…I had the ring ensorcelled by a curse user who specializes in seals. It wasn’t cheap, but it worked. At least until…”

Gojo can deduce what happened. Likely the “accident” that befell her husband was no accident at all. He beckons her to follow him and they make their way to the living room, which is surprisingly spacious. So much of the apartment is so open that it does make her nervous. She wonders if this design is his choice. It doesn’t feel very secure.

They sit on the couch, with her curling on one end and him sprawling on the other.

“Tell me about the accident,” he says, and Asabé hesitates. His expression is gentle, almost as if he is compassionate, and she doesn’t understand how he manages to make his eyes—so striking!—soft. She has not spoken to anyone about the accident since it happened, but if he can find any answers within, she’s more than willing to revisit it.

“We were driving,” she begins. “Visiting his parents in Toyama. It was storming terribly, and we’d been arguing. His mother is—was—not very fond of our marriage. We were taking one of the mountain roads and…he couldn’t see the cursed spirit but I could. I tried to warn him…but he wouldn’t listen.”

Asabé shuts her eyes, remembering.

“It pulled us into its domain, but only briefly, and it was enough. The car hit something in the domain, sent us both crashing through the windshield.”

This next part, Asabé hates to remember.

“Both of us were horribly injured and dying. I could see my…I was torn open. So was he.”

A dress of red, a skin of gray.

“You survived using reversed curse technique,” Gojo surmises, his voice quiet and thoughtful. Asabé nods.

“I can’t control it,” she tells him, “I didn’t even know I could do it until that moment. I just knew I didn’t want either of us to die, but I couldn’t save him. He died right in front of me.”

“And the cursed spirit?” Gojo asks.

Asabé fingers the ring around her neck with her slender fingertips.

“I unsealed myself for the first time since leaving my family, and I exorcised the spirit myself. And then I called for help.”

Gojo remembers reading about the accident during his personal briefing of Hayashi’s background. So a cursed spirit caused the accident, hm? And her unsealing herself means whoever her family sent to spy on her and hunt her down must have finally pinpointed her location.

“Can you unseal yourself, now?” He asks. Asabé freezes, wide-eyed.

“Gojo…” She whispers. “If I do that—”

“They won’t find you,” he says. “Trust me. Go on, unseal yourself. I’m sure keeping your cursed energy suppressed like that can’t possibly be comfortable. And I need to see what you’re made of because if you exorcised a spirit on your own, you’re clearly not a weakling. Let your hair down, Miss Hayashi.”

He winks, and her cheeks flush hot.

“If…if you’re sure…” She says softly, and grasps the chain around her neck, lifting it over her head.

All at once a great weight on her soul is lifted and she watches Gojo’s expression. He is still smiling but there’s a sharpness to his gaze, his pupils shrinking, and she remembers what she knows about the Gojo clan’s techniques. Six Eyes and Limitless…she’s not sure what either of them are capable of, but from his silence, she knows they are in use.

Gojo has never felt cursed energy like hers before. Usually, the Six Eyes tells him everything from vitals to near-clairvoyant readings on moves everyone around him is making. He can see her cursed energy, a flame of the deepest cerulean he’s ever seen. Same color of his eyes if he were to venture a guess. It’s beautiful and it is so tightly controlled he knows she’s been trained, formally in fact. He focuses his gaze, chases the path of her cursed energy, and sees the brightness along her throat. Cursed speech? He tilts his head, curious.

“You have exemplary control over your cursed energy,” he says by way of acknowledging her. “What about your technique? If your family wants you back this badly it has to be pretty powerful.

Asabé hesitates again. “I…I hesitate to use it. It can be…overwhelming.”

Gojo smirks, smug and superior.

“I promise you can’t hurt me. Go ahead and try.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says and Gojo raises a brow. Most techniques are made to hurt or defend, he can’t imagine what power she has that could be for anything else. He gestures for her to continue. Asabé holds his gaze a moment longer, before she shuts her eyes. Without telling her, Gojo releases his infinity. He needs to feel her. God, he needs to stop staring at that brightness on her beautiful throat. He wants to trace a wet path with his tongue along it, feel how warm that satiny brown skin is.

“You can’t hurt me.”

“But I can.”

Gojo lets out an involuntary gasp as he feels the sensation of…it feels like nails digging into his shoulders and forearms, yet Asabé remains curled on the couch, serene as can be.

“How…?” He begins to ask and even though Asabé is no longer speaking he can see the brightness around her throat, still active. The nails are still digging into his skin like a lover clinging to him, and he activates his technique to repel it. He glances down, seeing no marks in his skin, but he can feel echoes of the sensation. The brightness in her throat dims.

“Cursed speech?” He wonders. Asabé smiles thinly, replacing her seal. Her cursed energy goes mute, but Gojo has seen and tasted it and he will never forget it.

“In a sense,” she says and Gojo cannot help but brace himself for another ghost sensation. “We do not have the precise power that the Inumaki clan does, where we must speak words that compel. Rather, it is our very voices that inspire sensation: pleasure, pain, and everything in between. With enough effort, I can make you hallucinate.”

Gojo can’t help it: he’s smiling. He’s delighted. What a fascinating power, and a dangerous one. Compulsion is one thing, and the energy is not as precise hence why it can backfire so easily depending on how powerful the opponent is, but this? She can speak any word and empower it with whatever she wants her opponents to feel.

“How did you exorcise the spirit?” He asks.

“I sang,” Asabé says simply. Gojo laughs.

“What like a lullaby? Did you put it to sleep or something?” He’s laughing still and Asabé frowns, rolling her eyes.

“No, I sang until it was torn apart at the seams. It’s not just nails I can make you feel, Gojo.”

Something about the way she says that makes all the blood rush to his cock. The possibilities of her voice hadn’t occurred to him until now. God, if he unseals her and fucks her, he can only imagine—

“Yes,” Asabé says, looking amused as she watches him. “Even that.”

Gojo grins. “I can’t imagine since you decided to seal yourself. Can you control it?”

Asabé has the wherewithal to look indignant.

�� “Of course.” She says through gritted teeth. “I’d not be much use as an heir if I couldn’t control my own technique. I only sealed myself to hide from my family.”

Gojo leans back, casual and unbothered, and Asabé tries not to think about how good he looks, about the way his button-down is unbuttoned enough to show the beautiful column of his throat, the hollow of his clavicle, and just a peek of his chest. She thinks about how warm his hands are, how gentle he was when he held her shoulders. She bites her lip. Gojo can see it in her, her blood is racing through the pipes of her veins, her heartbeat picking up into a slightly fevered cadence. Her lips part, and her breath comes a little rushed.

Oh, she’s turned on. Good, he shouldn’t be the only one sitting here wondering what she’ll look like with her ankles in her ears and his dick buried to the hilt inside of her. And her voice unsealed? Oh he knows that’s dangerous. He can always stuff her panties in her mouth but—

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says. Gojo blinks, grinning like a wolf.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re thinking about having me with a side of fries,” she says. “Speaking of, you mentioned Thai food?”

Gojo laughs. “So I did. Let’s eat and maybe we can both stop looking at each other like a couple of rival lions at the drinking pool, hm?”

Her cheeks flush again, and this time she looks away from him.

Masterlist 🧿 Next Chapter

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #oc: asabé hayashi #ch: gojo satoru #otp: stellar collision #fic: halfsleeper

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eirasummersart · 9 months ago

Text

Chiyuki profile [Enstars OC]

You can also read it on my toyhouse.

Basic info

Name: Chiyuki.

Gender: Female.

Height: 165cm.

Hair colour: Jet black.

Eye colour: Aquamarine.

Age: 17.

Birthday: April 2nd.

School: Yumenosaki Academy.

Job: Actress and solo idol.

Summary

A young actress and solo idol. She's mostly focused on her acting career and attends Yumenosaki's theater course, but has also made a name for herself as a cute and sweet solo idol.

More under the cut!

Personality

She's usually a really cool and level-headed person, mature for her age. Since she's been working as an acress for a long time already, being a well know actress since she was a child. She's good under pressure and she tackles almost all work with a really responsible and professional attitude.

One of the reasons she managed to get so far in her career is how much she likes attention (positive one, of course). She always tries to stand out and cause a good impression, to be the center of everyone's gazes. That's one of the reasons why she branched to idol work as well.

Aside from that, she's also a bit of a himedere, acts like a diva with most people and expects people to automatically respect her and treat her well. She's not too tyranical, so it hasn't caused problems for her... yet.

With the people she loves or admires, she's a bit more cutesy and childish. Still wanting their attention, but is more forceful and selfish about it. She worries after if she maybe was too pushy with them, though.

During her idol work, she changes her personality to be more peppy and cute, full of energy and always rising the audience's spirits. She does this consciously because she wants to do a great job as an idol, and that's the best type of idol (in her opinion), and why she strives for that on her lives and interviews during idol work.

Appearance

Her hair is a jet black colour, and she has it in a waist length straight style, with a straight fringe as well. She often has two small side ponytails on the top back of her head, with the rest flowing loosely. Her eyes are a bright aquamarine colour. She's of average height, 165cm, and with pale skin. She's got a pronounced hourglass figure, even if her waist isn't tiny, it looks that way in contrast the with her big chest and big hips. She also has a big tatoo of red lilies on her back.

She usually dresses following trends, in a cool functional style. She has preference for burgundy, red and black when she dresses herself. In her day to day she mostly wears pants, but when she dresses up she wears dresses and skirts as well. It's usual to see her with a choker, bracelets, etc. And most in black or with a muted gold colour.

When she's working as an idol, her look completely changes. She wears a pastel pink wig tied in two high pigtails. Her outfits also go more towards pastely, cute and with lots of frills and ribbons, usually in variations of pink and white.

History

She started working as an actress when she was really young. She always had a talent for acting and with how much she liked attention, she begged her parents to take her to acting classes and let her audition for roles. They were careful about it, but agreed, seeing her so motivated for it. She ended up being really good at it, not only her natural talet, but with all the lessons she took and her motivation to practice non-stop.

Her popularity just kept rising and she had more and more acting roles, until she got an offer to debut as an idol as well. She agreed with the condition of having a lot of dance and singing classes as well, before her debut. She took it as "another kind of role" of sorts, and developed her idol persona soon after. When she was ready for it, at 15 y.o. she had her idol debut and it was a big success as well, even with her doing it solo.

Still, her main focus was always her acting career, so at 16 she entered Yumenosaki Academy, on the Theater course. It also had a big idol course that might be good for her own idol work (going to watch the idol course lives and maybe contacting some of the teachers if she had a need to).

There is where she saw Trickstar's lives for the first time and she completely fell in love with Subaru. He was the image of perfect idol she had in mind, and so cheerful and friendly. He was just perfect (Chiyuki vision hahah). So after that, she also pursued any chance to be in contact with him and get closer.

Relationships

More tba, but here's the main ones for now:

Akehoshi Subaru

Her crush and bias. She fell in love with him after seeing one of his lives and now she's his number 1 fan (self-proclaimed) and has a lot of his merch, which she shows proudly to everyone. She wants to get closer to him and uses any chance to do so. When he mets her, they become friends easily and they chat a lot when they can.

Hidaka Hokuto

Knows him from the collabs the theater course does with the idol's theater club sometimes. They get along well, since they both are calm and mature. She appreciates his efforts in trying to become a better actor and more expressive, and his work as an idol. He asks for her help sometimes in acting, and she does her best to tutor him. He's the one who introduces Chiyuki to Subaru in the end. He knows of her crush, she's not subtle, and tried to help in his own way.

Sakasaki Natsume

He somehow always finds her when she's trying to be sneaky and getting into the idol area of the school. At first she was scared he might expose her or blackmai her, since he seemed shady as heck. But he usually just chuckled and let her be or even show her a better way to sneak by, sharing the hidden passages he knows with her. He finds her really amusing and interesting, so he chats with her when they come across. She's still wary of him but she knows he won't harm her at this point (probably).

Trivia

She was originally my bjd doll, same name and similar appearance. She became an enstars OC as a joke at first, and then I went with it and she's a serious OC of mine now lmao. Her lilies tatoo comes from that as well.

Her name is a reference to "Sennen no Yuki"'s main character, Chiyuki Matsuoka, by Bisco Hatori.

She likes wearing star and moon themed accessories.

She also knows Wataru and Tomoya from the theater colabs. She respects Wataru as an actor a lot, although sometimes his energy is too much for her. And she thinks Tomoya is an adorable kouhai and tries to guide him when she can.

She sneaks into the idol course area sometimes when she learns of Trickstar lives that aren't open to the rest of the school (or otherwise lives Subaru is part of). At this point she knows all the hidden areas and how to get everywhere without being seen.

I haven't worked on ship stuff for her, but I like her ship with Subaru, but also an OT3 with both him and Natsume (because I like Subanatsu a lot too). Maybe I'll work on this sometime... we'll see lol.

#enstars OC #Ensemble Stars OC #Enstars #OC #Oc info #Chiyuki #Chiyuki info #long post

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abbatoirablaze · 4 months ago

Text

Criminal Minds, Season 1, Episode 6

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: talks of guns, mentions of violence and death, slight angst.

Samantha Reid

“Square your hips...”

You looked over your shoulder to your instructor, “my hips are square, sir.”

“No. No, they aren’t. It’s supposed to be like this,” he said firmly. A shiver ran up your spine as he shifted behind you, placing his body against yours. You looked over your shoulder once more and were met with his stern brown eyes. His fingertips froze on your hips, your shirt rising just enough so that there was skin to skin contact. Your lips parted as you searched his eyes. They looked just as desperate as you were sure that your own eyes looked. When he gazed down at your lips, you found yourself wanting to lean into him, “Samantha...we can’t do this...I’m married.”

Your eyes flickered open.

You were breathing heavily.

But those last two words made your heart freeze.

‘I’m married.’

You shuddered, “wh-what?”

“We-we’re all but separated, but the papers haven’t been filed...I-“

“You’re married?”

He nodded, “y-you don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to kiss you...for weeks now...but I-“

“You’re married!” you repeated once more, cutting him off while your heart plummeted to the pit of your stomach.

“I’m sorry!” he sighed, backing away from you. You felt like you were dropped from a rooftop as you gently put the gun on the pedestal and turned around, “I-I should have been honest from the start. But I never thought that it would get this far. I just-I thought that I would get over this schoolboy crush that I seem to have on you and that our flirtations would cease once you realized that I was just a teacher you had a crush on.”

“Do you plan on leaving her?”

He licked his lips, and put his hands on his hips before nodding, “we’ve talked about it. We’ve been growing apart since we got married...and well...I agreed to wait until she finishes a degree that she was working so she can get a job before we separate on paper.”

You swallowed and bit your lip, “if-if you do...what does that mean with this...”

“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly, “I-I’ve thought about it a lot. I’ve even talked it over with Hayley-“

“Your wife...”

He nodded, “she-she thinks that I should go for it...she’s encouraged it. Which is a weird thing to hear from someone that you’re married to, let me tell you.”

“What about you though?”

“I don’t know,” he answered softly, “Hayley-she’s the only woman I’ve ever been with. We’ve been together since high school. I married her straight out of college, and I-I don’t know...but what I do know is that I can’t get these feelings about you to go away...”

“So why don’t we see where they take us?”

“Hey...it’s okay, Spencer. You don’t need to carry,” you reminded your twin brother solemnly, “profilers aren’t required to carry.”

“Hotch carries two,” he groaned, “and everyone else on the team carries too. I’ll be the only one. I mean, even you carry and you’re a field agent too!”

“Spence...”

“Sammy...you don’t get it. It’s embarrassing.”

“You can always retest.”

“In two weeks,” he groaned, “but Hotch has already given me two sessions. And I can’t do the follow through, so my shots are all over the place.”

“Hey, knowing what’s wrong is half the problem. That means you know what to fix.”

“Easier said than done!” he groaned, walking off.

“Spence...”

“I’ve got to go!” he sighed, pushing himself away from the table, “we’re in the office today.”

“See you tonight?”

“If we don’t get a case.”

Vanessa Jareau

“My sister could help you out, you know.”

“Huh?”

“My younger sister,” JJ smiled, “she’s actually a tech analysist for another unit, but she also does some certification classes on the side with sidearms as well as the run through courses. She usually offers up her free time and plays the role of the unsub while the newer guys run the course. I’m sure she could help you out. She’s a great shot, and an even better teacher. Your sister’s run the course with her a few times. I’m sure she could introduce you two.”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “I-Hotch said he’d help me out with the retest.”

“Are you okay, Spence?”

“Yeah...yeah...I just-can we not talk so loud about it?” he asked sadly as he looked around, “Derek already gave me a whistle earlier. He was taunting me. And all this gun violence just feels like it’s in my face.”

“Spence...that’s just Derek. You know that he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

“Let me talk to Vanessa then?” she asked.

“No, I-I don’t want to ask for any more help than I already am.” He frowned, “I know that Sam probably was the one that got Hotch to help me out and offer up his services.”

“Your sister?”

“Yeah...she and Hotch hit it off from our first class together when he was an instructor,” he shrugged, “he was the one that helped her get early admittance as a probationary agent when she found the Quantico killers’ victims during our certifications.”

“Hmm...”

“What?”

“Nothing...nothing...” JJ shrugged, instantly trying to change the subject, “you know, if you didn’t want to work with Hotch, I’m sure Vanessa could free up some time.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to work with Hotch?” Spencer asked, his brow quirking as he looked at his colleague.

“No reason!” JJ shrugged, trying to steer away from the topic once again, “hey, you go with Clavin and Gideon to the hospital, I’ll stay with Elle, Morgan, and Hotch and we’ll try to piece things together here!”

“Okay...”

Samantha Reid

“Oh my god, Spence...wh-what happened to you?”

“Sammy, I’m fine. I-“

“How did you get hurt?” you asked nervously, “wha-“

“Hotch and Reid here were taken hostage by the unsub,” Derek acknowledged as he messed with Spencer’s hair, “While the guy took Hotch’s sidepiece he forgot about his ankle holster.”

“That still doesn’t explain how Spencer got hurt like this,” you growled, glaring between Derek and your big brother, “what happened? Did the unsub do this to you?”

“Hotch got the unsub to sympathize with him and we came up with a plan to shoot him,” he said nervously, “he uh-had to beat me up though.”

Your gaze fell to the team leader, and you felt the rage deep within you burning at an instant, “What?”

“Samantha,” Aaron said cautiously, knowing how you would react, “it was for a good rea-“

“Your office, Aaron. Now.”

A few of the team members looked between the two of you but said nothing. You were sure that the team was mostly just brushing it off as you being an overprotective sibling. But you noticed the look that JJ was giving you as you passed her. You reached Aaron’s office first, stepping through the door, you allowed him to pass you before you closed it.

“Samanth-“

“Close your blinds, Aaron.” You demanded. The two of you stared a tense look before he moved to the windows, closing the blinds. The second the rest of the team was out of sight, you rushed him, hitting him hard on the arm, “What the hell is wrong with you, Aaron?”

“It was necessary, Sa-“You hit him again in the arm, and this time his back hit the wall, “Will you stop hitting me?”

“If you did this because of some sick way to get back at me for-“

“I did it because it allowed both your brother and I to get out of the situation alive, Samantha. He was ready to kill us, and I had to think fast,” he said firmly, cutting you off, “despite what you might think I wouldn’t use Reid. Especially not as a way to get back at you for something that we mutually decided.”

“Our decision wasn’t mutual, Aaron...”

His eyes met yours and you felt the tears welling up in your own. He went to reach out to you, but you took a step back.

“Samantha...”

“Don’t touch me, Aaron...”

“I didn’t do it as a way to get back at you...I saw an opportunity with the unsub, and I took it. I knew that your brother would be fine if I took that route.”

You found yourself shaking, and you wrapped your arms around yourself as the first few tears slipped down your cheeks, “it was the only way?”

“It was the only way. Spencer said it himself. He’s fine,” he said solemnly. He took a few steps across the room until he was directly in front of you. Tenderly, he reached out and held you by both arms, “Samantha...I wouldn’t do anything like that to intentionally hurt you or your brother, especially because of our past. I-you know how I feel about you. Just because Hayley and I are married, th-that doesn’t change.”

“I don’t want to believe you...”

“Because if you don’t then it allows some small part of you to think that I don’t care as much as I do.”

You sniffled and wiped away the tears that had stained your cheeks, “I hate when you’re right, you know.”

“I hate that you think I’ve been playing with your feelings,” he admitted softly, “I-“

“Don’t, Aaron...just don’t.”

“She knows that I still want to be with you...”

You scoffed and shook your head, “Aar-“

“After the baby is born, we’re going to live in the same house...so I can help take care of him...but we’ve got a deal. She is going back to school to finish her degree. She should be finished right after he turns one...from there...”

“Aaron...don’t feed me any more false promises.”

“They aren’t,” he said quickly, “I’m serious, Samantha...once the baby turns one and she graduates, I’m going to leave the house to her. I want to be with you. And she’s fine with that.”

Your shaking was back, and you found the words that you wanted to say to him unable to pass through your lips. He sighed and pulled you to his chest, kissing the top of your head, “I don’t want to lose you, Samantha. I want to be with you.”

S1, E7

#criminal minds #fbi #bau #behavioral analysis unit #quantico #ssa derek morgan #derek morgan #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner

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hannahsmusings · 7 months ago

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Renee

*I didn’t know what to do with myself as I hear all of them laugh at my expense, I knew I was the most qualified person for this job and I had been interested in the world of motorsports since I was a kid, it being something my dad and I bonded over my entire life, so the fact that this entitled little elite prick thought that I wouldn’t know anything made me nearly laugh, shaking my head just slightly as I took a sip of my champagne* *isn’t that how it always goes? The pretty ones are always the worst, especially when they come from as much wealth as he does, his entire family being well-known in Monaco and now Charles was the favorite of Ferrari, he didn’t even know what a real life was like, being born with a silver spoon in his mouth* *I scoff nuder my breath as he says that I probably had his poster on my wall, that being such a misogynistic and gross thought, that a woman would only come into this field because of the attractive men, it was definitely a bonus but that was not the source of my passion, I actually understood and loved cars, having worked in my garage as a girl with my dad for hours, feeling so judged and less than already and I had never even spoken a word to him, already pegging him as the ‘problem’, able to see his inflated ego from miles away* *I down the rest of my champagne, ordering a vodka soda since I suddenly needing something stronger if I was going to listen to anymore of this nonsense, not sure why I was lingering but wanting to hear more, wanting to get a sense for my drivers so I could attack debrief appropriately tomorrow*

*Carlos was stood next to Charles, his back against the bar so he had a good vantage point of everything, the two of them had been on the prowl since pretty girls usually always came to these events; someone’s daughter or sister or best friend they brought along and it was easy pickings for the two of them, being the drivers for Ferrari and all* *he notices a woman right by their group at the bar, his eyes taking in her body, smirking when he sees she was wearing red which to him screamed that she was here for fun and pleasure and not work, who else would wear Ferrari red unless they were trying to be noticed?* *he nudged Charles’ ribs subtly, nodding behind him so he’d turn* Looks like your type. *the beautiful thing about their friendship was that they had such different types, Charles always going for girls with dark features, dark hair and tan skin where he himself went for the blondes with blue eyes type*

______________________________________________

*I kept laughing and drinking with the boys, it being such a male dominated environment but I was in my element, clearly popular and well liked by the team, always being a good sense of entertainment as I was confident and didn’t shy away from the attention* *sips my drink and glances at Carlos as there’s a lull in conversation and I feel his nudge, looking up as I follow the nod of his head before my eyes are immediately drawn to the vision in red, gaze caught on the curve of your hips and back, only seeing your side profile as my eyes make their slow way up your body* Mon dieu..*whispers under my breath, my mother tongue of French always slipping out when I’d lost control or become distracted and I’d definitely lost my train of thought looking at you* *i glance at Carlos with a look of pure shock, us always looking at women and admiring but I’d not been bowled over like this before* Fucking hell. Wearing our colours too.. *looks back over at you, the slope of your nose and the curls down your back, everything about you catching my eye and I felt a bit stunned, not one to be caught off guard but Christ you were beautiful* *downs the rest of my beer* Right mate, I’m going in. *smirks at him, never one to back down from a challenge but I couldn’t pass up this opportunity of getting to know you, feeling the pull of attraction already* *slides up next to you in the pretence of ordering another drink, asking for a pint in French before looking at you and offering you a charming smile* You’re a new face here. Charles..*offers my hand to shake yours, always being good at meeting people as I was used to people falling over themselves when they realised who I was*

#renee plot

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 1 year ago

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‘Cousin Leofstan is putting himself about,’ Gríma says. He tucks his hands up his outer sleeves. ‘I always thought that it must be a little tense between you all. Not that it’s any of your fault what happened all those years ago with your grandfather chucking out fair Gundwyn but still…does he chafe about it?’

‘Who?’

‘Leofstan. He should be third marshal. Technically.’

Éomer turns to face Gríma who remains looking out over the fields, the crops, the horses, cattle, homesteads. The older man’s profile is sharp, shattered glass. Eyes deep, watchful, and wolf-hungry. Éomer waits, thinking it evident that he wants to know what Gríma is up to. Gríma seems disinterested in enlightening him.

There are a few crickets sawing into the warm air. Also, distant laughter and music from the main grounds. Occasional applause. Trust Gríma to haunt the hinterlands of happy occasions. He can’t help it, Éomer suspects. It’s as part of him as his unnatural stare and ability to cut through a man with insight he should not have.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Éomer finally asks.

‘Nothing, save that your aunt Gundwyn was the eldest of the sisters and therefore her progeny should have received your marshallate. Naturally Fengel had opinions on her choice of partner, but the least said about that unfortunate kingship, soonest mended.’

‘You’re bold today.’

‘Nay, my lord, I simply speak as I find. I suppose I am trying to say something, in a manner of speaking. A warning, perhaps.’

‘Why should you warn me?’

Gríma flicks eyes over, a shadowed expression. His head dips for a moment as he gathers his thoughts then he lifts it and turns to full-face Éomer.

‘We’ll be in the midst of war soon. Indeed, some would argue we’re already there. We need surety in our leadership—I believe you capable. I would have you remain third marshal. Others might have differing views on the matter. That is what I am saying.’

‘Riddles,’ Éomer sneers. He advances so they’re inches from each other. ‘All you ever give people are riddles but you label them advice as if calling them by a different name will change their nature.’

‘Names are terribly important when it comes to changing one’s nature. Or signifying it. Defining it. I define myself one way, you define me another. And it’s not a terribly flattering definition, I suspect.’

‘You’re work is plain to see,’ Éomer continues, ignoring Gríma’s response. ‘You’ve been attempting to sow discord between me and my kin for the last two years. But I’ll not take to distrusting my cousins simply because you think one feels slighted. Leofstan has only ever been a friend and ally. Why should I trust your word over his? He, at least, is straight and true. You, on the other hand, bend like willow reed and are as crooked as gnarled oak.’

‘I only meant to bring the issue to your awareness,’ a sloping shrug, ‘you may take it or leave it. I like you, Éomer, but it is little skin off my nose if you decide to ignore my advice. I’ll riddle you this, though, what has life but no shadow?’

‘A flame.’

‘A man who is not present where and when he is needed, and so therefore we have no shadow of his to mark. Leofstan might breed entitlement in his heart, but he’s not the only cousin of which I speak. Has Théodred given you that back-up you asked for a month ago?’

Éomer opens his mouth—sees the winding road of this conversation, as twisted as a forest creek, and so shakes his head. Puts on a cold smile. Says that Gríma will get no more from him, today. If Gríma has anything useful to say, he had best speak plainly, otherwise Éomer considers their conversation complete.

Gríma slithers out a hand with its long-boned fingers and brushes a bit of dust from Éomer’s shoulder. A lightning sharp static seems to go through him at the touch. Patting Éomer’s arm, Gríma gives a mirthless smile, and makes his way back towards the crowds.

Grima out here shit-disturbing.

Anyway, I decree June 30 national Grima/Eomer day, so here you all go.

#what makes a kynge #Kynge sees us meeting Theoden's sisters - or some of them - the unnamed ones get names #lord of the rings #eomer #griomer #grima wormtongue #writing #lotr

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ljandersen · 2 years ago

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Thank you for the tag @ficbrish! It’s been a while since I’ve seen a new game. Thanks for thinking of me!

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

[I went with six and a longer excerpt]

‐----------------------------------------------------

1. Sideways Part 1: Sideways

“Here.” Shepard grabbed his hand. He tried to pull away, but she slapped the pistol into his palm and curled his finger around it. She shoved his hand back at him. “There, Admiral Alenko . Feel better now?”

Kaidan considered the pistol in his hand. He looked up at her. “You know Cicero would like to see me KIA?”

Shepard frowned. “What? You think I’m his hired gun? I’ll take you out while we’re down here alone?”

2. Sideways Part 2: Entwined

Kaidan laughed and cupped her face. “You know there are cameras in here.”

Shepard realized her hand had brunched up his shirt almost to the shoulder. Her palm pressed against the hot skin of his chest.

“I don’t care.” She panted wolfishly and reeled him back to her mouth.

“Whoa.” He laughed and playfully batted her grasping hands away. “You want this all over the extranet? Councilor-Spectre sex tape.”

“Sure. Aquarium Sex Romp Part 1. ”

“Part 1?” Kaidan sputtered, backing up, and laughingly batting her hand away again.

3. Sideways Part 3: Prism

“That’s how you got them? Sleeping gas?” Shepard threw Feron back a step. “After I save you, I’m killing you.”

Feron tugged on his jacket and stood taller. “Then I’m not going.”

“Oh, you’re going. I’ll knock you out with something more concrete than nerve gas and drag you.” Shepard waved at Wrex. “Get over here. We’ll lift them out biotically.”

Grunt roared and beat the wall approvingly. Garrus seemed less certain.

“Who’s lifting me?” Garrus got to his feet. “Is Kaidan up there? Do I get a choice?”

4. Sideways Part 4: Abyss

“You sure you should be operating heavy machinery?” Shepard forced mirth into her tone.

“No.” Kaidan punched another series of buttons. A hiss and lift in the gravity made her scramble to grab the back of his seat for an anchor. Just as quickly, the gravity settled.

“Outer doors locked.” York ran up the gangway to them. “Why aren’t we moving?”

“Because I’m not a real pilot,” Kaidan snapped.

York shoved past Shepard and leaned down beside him. “You sure you should be operating heavy machinery?”

“Does someone else want to do this? Hmm?” He rubbed his temple. “At least I can name some of these buttons.”

5. About Mars . . .

“Donkey laugh?” Shepard shoved him away. “You’ve got it somewhere. That picture. Holding out for something you really want before blackmailing me with it?”

Kaidan lifted his Omni-Tool. The holoscreen image made her cringe.

“Damn. It’s worse than I remember. And, oh nice – ha! – I do have hair in my mouth. Lovely.”

Kaidan laughed and snapped the screen down.

“You found that pretty fast,” Shepard said. “Got it on shortcut?”

“It’s a favorite. Won’t lie.” Kaidan put his hands on his hips. “It’s a good memory. Ash was there.”

6. About Horizon . . .

“Yeah.” Kaidan leaned an elbow on the bar and studied her profile. “I’ve lost a lot of people close to me. Been years now for some of them. Still hurts like hell. You know, let’s just talk about biotic ball or turian prions again. Who doesn’t like a spirited prion debate, hmm?”

Her lips stretched into a weak smile. “I didn’t mean to dampen things. Damn. I’m a bad date, aren’t I?”

“You didn’t stand me up. That strong out the gate, what’s to worry about?”

She grinned sideways at him. “No one would stand you up.”

“Ha. Well, thanks. Go on a date once a year, it keeps the odds in my favor.”

“Once a year?” Her eyebrows raised. She rotated on her stool.

Heat flushed in his cheeks. “Well, I’m deployed a lot.”

Tagging: @rpgwrites @ripley95 @alphahelices @unicorn-farm @jamesholden @ghostxofxartemis @halesshepardn7 @acciokaidanalenko @aricazorel

#mass effect #fanfiction #writing meme #question game #my writing #shenko #fshenko

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 1 year ago

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Heart’s Choice - Chapter 2

*Warning Adult Content*

- Carlos -

Sometimes it takes a minute for my brain to catch up to my mouth, especially when I'm stressed or under pressure, which is what happens when I open my front door dressed in my underwear and find myself face to face with a pair of officers and some unexpected news.

"Dead? What do you mean he's dead?"

The male officer looks me up and down but I'm pretty sure he's not checking me out.

More likely he's comparing me to some profiling list in his head and checking off boxes.

✓ Mid to late twenties ✓ Male ✓ Longish hair ✓ Medium brown skin ✓ Obviously doesn't have his shit together ✓ Latino-looking ✓ Probably a criminal of some kind

"I mean that he is no longer alive, Mr. Martinez," the man says.

"He is deceased. Passed away. Expired."

"Está muerto," the female officer joins in helpfully.

I rub my hands over my face and do my best not to scowl.

"I get that, thanks. What I mean is... what happened?"

"That's what we're trying to establish, Mr. Martinez. My name is Detective John Turner. This is Sergeant Latoya McKenzie. May we come in?"

"Uh..."

I glance between the pair.

I'm pretty sure I can refuse but less sure I can do so without hurting my chances of appearing 'not guilty.'

They haven't said as much yet but also I'm pretty sure they're not here just to tell me Kyle died of natural causes..

"Of course."

I step back and hold the door open as they enter.

Two pairs of eyes rake across my living space, doing inventory, drawing conclusions and I cringe as I see it from a visitor's perspective.

I'm not a slob but I'm not Marie Kondo, either.

Most of my stuff is from thrift shops or hand-me-downs from friends.

None of the furniture matches, every dish I own is from a different set and it's been a week since my last weekly cleaning day.

I wince at the overflowing laundry basket, the dirty sink and the two-day-old pizza box occupying the coffee table.

"Sorry about the mess. I, uh, wasn't expecting guests," I say and then mentally kick myself.

The cops aren't 'guests,' Carlos.

Detective Turner quirks a brow but merely nods at the couch.

"Can we sit?"

"Of course. Uh..."

I scramble to clear away the pizza box, several dirty napkins, an open DVD case, a book and a packet of cigarettes.

The cops take the sofa, while I perch nervously on the edge of a well-worn La-Z-Boy.

"You smoke?" Sergeant McKenzie points at the Marlboro Lights.

"Huh? Oh, no. My aunt does."

"Your aunt lives here, too?" Detective Turner asks, pulling out a notepad and pen.

"No, no. She's in Oregon."

"Then why you got her smokes?" Sergeant McKenzie swipes a finger across my countertop, as if checking for dust.

"They're not hers. They're mine."

The pair share a glance and Turner scribbles a note.

"You just said you don't smoke. So which is it?"

I frown. It feels like I'm already being interrogate, and I don't even know what the deal is yet.

"I lived with my aunt until recently," I say. "Relatively recently, anyway. I was... feeling homesick, I guess. Missing her. I saw these at the gas station and bought them on a whim. Not to smoke, just to... just to have, I guess."

"Decorative cigarettes. Right?" Turner asks, making another note and my frown becomes a scowl.

"No offense, officers but what happened to Kyle and why are you here?"

Detective Turner takes a breath and studies me with a penetrating stare.

"Kyle Peters was murdered, Mr. Martinez, some time last night. Can you tell us where you were between the hours of ten p.m yesterday and two a.m. this morning?"

"I was here. Asleep."

"Anyone vouch for that?" Mckenzie asks and I shake my head.

"I live alone."

"You didn't text anyone, call anyone? Facetime your girlfriend?"

"I don't have a... No. I had dinner, took a shower and went to bed. I was tired."

"Hmm."

Turner makes another note and my temper finally wakes up (along with the rest of my senses).

These two obviously got here early, hoping to take me off guard and they succeeded.

I'm sitting in my living room, dressed in my underwear, being questioned by cops.

It doesn't feel real and in the dreamlike state of shock after learning my assistant is dead, who knows what shit I might say to incriminate myself?

"Look, just tell me what happened to Kyle," I say.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

I turn to Sergeant McKenzie.

"Yesterday, around lunchtime."

I scowl at Detective Turner.

He's hot, no denying that but obnoxious.

"Two pm. I gave him twenty bucks to go get us some burgers. He never came back."

"That didn't concern you?"

"Sure it did. I didn't get lunch, lost twenty bucks and had to finish the rest of the day's work alone."

"You didn't think to call him? Make sure he was all right?"

I meet his sexy Russell Crowe stare and refuse to blink.

"No. He's only been working here two or three weeks and it's not the first time he's dipped in the middle of a shift."

"Two or three?"

I narrow my eyes at him.

"What?"

"You said, 'he's only been working here two or three weeks.' So which is it? Two weeks or three?"

"Shit, I don't know. I'd have to check the books."

"Can you check them now?"

Glaring, I stand and stalk over to my 'desk,' which is really just a piece of scrap plywood bolted to some two-by-fours and painted white.

Painfully conscious of the detective's eyes on my back, I rouse my geriatric computer from it’s slumber and open a spreadsheet.

"Two weeks and three days," I say, and clear my throat. "He started on the 17th of last month."

"Thank you. That's very helpful."

I turn and find myself almost chest-to-chest with Mr. tall, dark and antagonistic.

There's a moment of silent masculinity measuring and then I yield, glancing away and taking a tiny step back, bumping into the desk.

Like Aunt Tony used to say, pick your battles or pick your tombstone.

Oddly, Turner seems equally off-balance, as if he hadn't meant to stand so close and takes a step to the side, allowing me a clear path back to my seat.

Excruciatingly conscious of the fact he's watching me, I make my way back to it and sit down.

"So. Are you going to tell me about Kyle or not?" I ask.

"I assume someone's spoken to his aunt."

"She's been informed," Turner says stolidly, as if Lucille can expect a standard government-issue letter in the mail.

"Kyle was found by a runner in the park, early this morning," Sergeant McKenzie says. "Where the trail goes under the highway between Chestnut and Main."

She pulls out her cell-phone and holds it towards me.

"He was surrounded by symbols like this. Any significance to you?"

I squint at the screen, then school my face into a featureless mask as a shiver runs up my spine.

"No. What is it?"

"Some sort of occult symbolism, as far as we can tell from the shit on the internet," McKenzie says, pocketing her phone again. "Kyle into that kinda thing?"

I shake my head.

"No. Not as far as I know."

Detective Turner sighs.

He hadn't retaken his seat and leans against the back of the couch, arms crossed.

Now he straightens and pulls a card from the breast pocket of his crisp white shirt and holds it out to me.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Martinez. We'll be in touch if we have any further questions."

"We're sorry for your loss," Sergeant McKenzie adds. "I hope we can count on your cooperation as we investigate."

"Of... of course," I say, taking the card reflexively.

"If you think of anything else, give me a call," Turner says.

Then, with a bit more awkwardness, they're gone and I'm alone again.

As soon as the door shuts at their backs, I dash upstairs and snatch my phone off the bedside table, ripping out the charging cable and bringing up Aunt Toni's contact.

Hands trembling, I tap her number and listen with my heart pounding in my ears as it rings.

Voicemail. Again.

‘Toni Martinez. I'm busy. You know what to do.’ Beep.

I draw a breath, words swirl in my brain.

Then, like I have the last three times I've called, I hang up.

I said some shit to Toni the last time I saw her, when I left for Spring Lakes, some shit I needed to say but maybe not quite the way I should have said it.

She raised me and overall she did a good job but she'd hurt me, too and with my words, I hurt her back.

That wasn't my intention but words are like toothpaste, hard to retract once they're squeezed out.

That symbol the sergeant showed me was familiar, too familiar and my first thought was to run to Toni for advice.

Now, I shake my head at myself as I get dressed.

I told Toni I didn't need her. Time to prove myself right.

The rest of the day passes in a blur.

I fix a busted tail light, change a battery, flush a transmission and order some specialty parts for a certain vintage Volkswagen.

The whole time I keep my phone with me, waiting for Lucille or Tony or the cops or someone to call me but it stays silent.

The shop is silent, too.

It's as if nothing happened and by the end of the day I've half convinced myself it was all a dream, that tomorrow Kyle will show up bright and early for his shift, with some wild story about why he never came back with that burger the day before.

As for what I'd seen on the sergeant's phone...

Maybe I was wrong.

It wasn't that clear of a picture, after all.

Maybe my coffee-deprived brain had just filled in the blanks.

I mean, what were the chances that mark would show up here and that it would have any relation to Kyle?

I've pretty much convinced myself of this, that Kyle met a tragic, untimely but ultimately mundane end, by the time I close up the shop for the day.

He was the victim of a mugging or a drug deal gone wrong or maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time but it's got nothing to do with me.

It weighs on my heart, of course.

The poor kid was so young and while I can't say he was destined for greatness, who knows what impact anyone else might have on the world?

Now whatever impact Kyle might have made, good or bad, is forever lost.

I'll have to buy a suit for his funeral, I think, as I trudge upstairs after work.

'If I'm invited to his funeral.'

I strip out of my clothes and step into the shower.

'Funerals are depressing as fuck. I hope I'm not invited.'

I wash my hair, soap up, rinse off and reach for my towel.

"Why you gotta do this to me, Kyle?" I sigh as I wipe the steam from the bathroom mirror and stare into my own dark eyes.

"I give you a job. You take my twenty bucks and get yourself killed. Where did I go wrong?"

Something moves in the reflection and I gasp and spin so fast I almost fall on my ass.

I thought there was someone in the room with me, an intruder appearing at my back.

Instead, I groan with a strange mix of terror and relief as I find myself face to face with Kyle's ghost.

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eirasummersart · 10 months ago

Text

Kyouko Fuuntami profile [JJK OC]

You can also read it on my Toyhouse.

Provisional avatar image made with Picrew, by nise.

Basic info

Name: Fuuntami Kyouko 不運丹恭子 (last name, first name)

Nickname: Tami-chan, Tami-sensei.

Height: 158cm

Hair colour: Dark red with a pale yellow strand on her right side.

Eye colour: Dark brown, almost black.

Occupation: Teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High and Jujutsu sorcerer.

Age: 28

Birthday: October 10th, 1989.

Grade: Grade 1 Sorcerer.

Enrollment Method: Scouted.

Cursed Technique: Luck manipulation + Misfortune curse.

Skill: Martial arts with and without weapons.

Favourite food: Sakura mochi.

Least favourite food: Fish (she keeps finding fish bones and hurting herself…)

Stress source: Bad luck, keeping the children safe.

---

Summary

Teacher at Jujutsu high and Jujutsu sorcerer. Always sweet and kind, does her best to take care of her students. Her absolute back luck always makes things difficult for her, though.

More under the cut!

Personality

Kyouko is a really sweet and caring person. She gets attached easily to people just by having spent a bit of time with them, but with her students she really feels responsible for their safety and happiness and does her best to help them in any way.

She’s extremely clumsy and is always tripping, falling, accidentally hurting herself or breaking things. Now that she’s older she’s a bit better at avoiding big damages, but before she was a Jujutsu sorcerer it was really hard for her (since it’s related to her curse).

She’s really calm and has good humor almost all the time. She’ll laugh at any jokes even if they’re not that funny or other people would find them “annoying”. She’ll even laugh when bad things happen to her, won’t take it badly at all, unless she accidentally hurts someone else as well. Then she’ll be visibly distressed and fret over them until she’s sure they’re ok.

Appearance

She has long wavy red hair, reaching her lower back, with no fringe. She has a yellow highlight on her right front side. Her hair is usually kept in a high ponytail tied up by a big black ribbon, with some loose strands around her face, with a side parting. The yellow strip is usually left loose.

Her eyes are a dark brown that looks black at first glance. She wears rectangular framed glasses with a black frame.

She’s slender with modest curves, but her body is usually fully hidden with loose clothes and skirts. She favours black and white, and will combine them in her outfits. Usually she wears a long sleeved high neck tight shirt under a big bulky white jacket or jersey. She always wears thighs and some kind of long flowy skirt, usually knee length or longer. She might wear tight pants and a big jacket when she’s on a mission, so as to not impede her movements. She always wears some kind of gloves as well.

The reason why she covers her skin so much is, on one hand to make sure her scars aren’t showing, which she has all over her body, and on the other hand to avoid accidentally activating her cursed technique (see more about how it works in the dedicated section).

She also always wears a golden necklace in the shape of a moon over her outfit, so it’s visible. Sometimes she wears other jewelry, like earrings and bracelets.

Backstory:

CW: self-harm, suicide attempt

She was born with a curse that gives her atrocious bad luck. It usually only affects her, making her always have accidents, break things, have things go the worst way possible, etc. She used to be always covered in wounds (and so, bandages and band-aids) and have short hair since it kept getting damaged some way or another. Her clothes and personal items were also always patched up together as best as she could.

The worst part was that she could also affect other people, either by secondary effects from her having bad luck (sudden rain on a school outing, having to cancel plans because she got hurt, etc.). But also, if she made direct contact with someone (had to be skin to skin), she’d transfer some of her bad luck to them and they’d end up in an accident. A light one if they touched her briefly, or a big one if the contact was longer.

Her family noticed fast and started disliking her more and more, trying to not do anything with her anymore and getting her to spend more time at school or other places so as to not risk themselves as much.

Her classmates catched up on her problem fast too and they all avoided her, trying to protect themselves from her bad luck. She kept changing schools since she ended up in big accidents that caused a big problem for the schools. After transferring, she might tentatively try and make friends, but they’d soon find out about her problem and everything started again.

In her teen years, around 15 years old, she was in a really broken state, extremely depressed and knew everyone was right, she was the one always messing everything up. She was always hurt, always had things go wrong, nothing was right in her life. She had tried to “stop” it in so many ways, but nothing worked and she was desperate. At that point she had already been hurting herself sometimes to relieve her emotional turmoil (not like she wasn’t always hurt anyway). But it came to a point where she couldn't take it anymore and she decided to end it all. That way, at least, no one else would get hurt because of her.

And that’s how the sorcerers found her, bleeding to death in her home bathtub, but still alive. She wasn’t even able to end her suffering, her bad luck had to make it so that the sorcerers found her just in time to save her life.

With them able to identify her curse easily (that’s what brought them to her in the first place), they took enough precautions to be able to heal her without their lives being in danger.

After she got a bit better and was coherent again, they explained all about curses to her. Why everything happened to her, that there were ways to learn to control it and stop most of it, etc. She was still in a forlorn state. She was so unlucky, this was probably just a vain hope, why even bother? But she also couldn’t end herself either, so she gave it a try. Completely unmotivated and apathetic, she agreed.

They put her in 1st year of Jujutsu high in Tokyo, alongside Gojo, Geto and Shoko. They even gave Gojo special instructions to keep an eye on her and make sure her curse wouldn’t get out of control, since he would be the safest around her.

Everything went better than she could’ve anticipated. It was slow, but she started being less unlucky little by little. She focused first on controlling her impact on others, not wanting to hurt anyone else ever if she could help it. But she soon stopped her own misfortune as well. Having someone she could not harm and who helped her, alongside with others who weren’t afraid of her and talked normally with her, really helped her experiment safely and slowly open up.

She ended up always covering all her skin except her face, just to avoid accidents, but she became able to not give her misfortune to others accidentally, unless she was in an intense distressed state where she couldn’t control her emotions. And she slowly became stronger until she ended up being a Grade 1 Sorcerer.

She eventually ended up becoming a teacher at Jujutsu High in Tokyo, so she could help other children who might be in a similar situation to her own when she was younger, and so she can train the next generations of sorcerers to keep everyone safe.

She also goes on missions sometimes, mostly as support. Often partners up with Nanami for them.

Curse and cursed technique:

Curse: Misfortune:

Everything that has a luck factor will always have the worst outcome possible. She always has the worst luck possible in any situation. Furthermore, if someone has direct skin to skin contact with her of any kind, they’ll also get some of her curse on them. The intensity of that transfer depends on the amount of time in contact.

She has learned to avoid most of these effects on her daily life with control over her cursed energy, but when it’s small things, it still goes badly.

Cursed technique: Luck manipulation

She can control what kind of luck a person, curse, animal or object has, by touching it with direct skin to skin contact.

She usually uses it with her allies, to give them a boost of good luck for a short amount of time, where they can fight more recklessly than usual and still have things go well. She usually stays back and supports in that sense, when she’s in a fight. If needed, she also has prowess in martial arts and can wield a good amount of weapons, which are usually cursed tools she carries with her for self-defense.

When she’s alone and/or the situation is so dire that only support and martial combat isn’t enough, she can also use her cursed technique to give an enemy “bad luck”.

This one triggers the same way, she has to touch her enemy directly to start it. But in this case, it has a slow start and a big set back. Once contact has been made, both the enemy’s and her own luck will slowly get worse and worse. At first it’ll be little things like the light suddenly shining on their eyes or a small flying particle hitting an inconvenient place. But it’ll get worse with tripping, accidentally hurting oneself when attacking, etc. until one of the two dies.

Kyouko is so used to her misfortune that she’s usually able to resist until her enemy perishes before her, but it causes great damage to her and she has to rest completely after the technique is deactivated. Since it’s so risky, she barely uses it, as said initially.

Domain expansion: Cursed house

She’s able to expand a domain that has the size and shape of a small cursed house. It’s all half in ruins, and it’s filled with lots of “bad omens” and objects that give bad luck traditionally. It’s also really dark, you can barely see around you, and there’s a lot of “black cats” looking at the person trapped inside with shining eyes.

The person inside will then experience lots of misfortune and accidents inside it until they’re dead or incapacitated, at which point the domain is dissipated.

It’s a really strong domain, but it takes a long while for her to set it up, so she also doesn’t use it very often, only if she has an ally that can hold the enemy off but not end them.

Juju Stroll Questions:

What's your type?

“Someone reliable and sturdy, so they can whistand my bad luck without getting hurt. But really, as long as they’re gentle and caring towards me I’d be happy…”

Rice or bread?

“I like rice most, but the rice cooker keeps breaking down again and again, so I always end up eating bread instead…”

Cats or dogs?

“Cats are completely adorable, aren’t they? I wish I could go and pet them gently. But I don’t dare to, I don’t want to accidentally hurt them :C”

Trivia:

Her name is written with these kanjis:

不運 (fuun) meaning “misfortune/bad fortune“

丹 (can be said "ta", but also "tami") meaning "red earth (i.e. containing cinnabar or minium); vermilion"

恭 (kyō) meaning "respectful, polite"

子 (ko) meaning "child".

#jjk oc #Jujutsu Kaisen OC #Jujutsu Kaisen #jjk #OC #OC info #Kyouko #Kyouko info #long post

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dwaynepride · 3 years ago

Text

how ncis characters act when they’re jealous:

characters: leroy jethro gibbs, dwayne pride, tony dinozzo, chris lasalle, tim mcgee, tammy gregorio, nick torres, sebastian lund

a/n: might make a part two with more characters if i get the inspo

leroy jethro gibbs: he wouldn’t realize it was jealousy until somebody points it out. he’s usually wearing this stern look with hard eyes so jethro’s jealousy takes the form of not talking at all. and lots of staring. he would internalize his behavior as being concerned for you, or something not feeling right deep in his gut. and the guy who’s taking up so much of your attention will forever be an annoyance to gibbs.

jethro doesn’t interfere, though. not unless he feels like he has to - until then, gibbs will likely just sulk in the corner until you were free. but you can really start to feel his jealousy once you’re at his side again and he’s barely saying two words to you and still glaring at the annoying bastard. if you ask him what’s wrong, he’ll say it’s nothing. and later, when you both are alone, that’s when he reflects and feels like a stupid ass for acting the way he did.

dwayne pride: honestly, he gets a Kicked Puppy Vibe whenever he’s feeling jealousy. dwayne is a very sensitive person and he feels the loss of your presence like the sunshine hiding behind a cloud. he’ll try to ignore that twisted up feeling in his stomach and go on to enjoy the night, but dwayne always finds you in the crowd. always huffs a little when he sees you with someone else. always reins himself in from stealing your attention away.

later on, his affection is amped up to the max. dwayne will absolutely shine under your attention, and he’ll honestly get a bit clingy for the rest of the night. of course, he knows himself well enough to know what he’s doing. he feels a little embarrassed by it. so maybe some of the kisses he gives you is his secret way of apologizing.

tony dinozzo: he doesn’t get jealous. not at all. why should tony care if this loser keeps making you laugh so fucking hard at jokes that aren’t even funny? he only steps in because this other guy is so wildly unfunny that tony is afraid you might just die of boredom, and as you know so well, tony is a pretty heroic guy. it’s his job to take you far, far away from the asshole who was starting to stand just a little too close.

tony couldn’t hide his jealousy to save his own life. he likes to believe he’s suave and cunning and doesn’t let things get to him. and maybe that’s true for most things. but just as soon as he gets you alone, tony has this primal need to pull you in close and remind you what’s what. he doesn’t like to think of it as proving himself, but the marks on your neck prove differently…

chris lasalle: very little truly gets under christopher’s skin, and jealousy isn’t one of them. sure, he likes your attention, but chris is also very secure in the relationship. it’s kinda hard to feel threatened when he’s the one who lead you into the party, arm over your shoulders, showing you off and giving lots of kisses and doesn’t really give a fuck who sees. he might even revel in the fact that onlookers start to feel a little jealous of him.

if there’s any jealousy to be had, it’s toward your glass because your hands and mouth are all over it, instead of him. it’s toward the music itself for making you move so fluidly and sexy. it’s toward the liquor for putting that big grin on your face when chris should be doing that himself. he does later, rest assured. makes dumb jokes when his hands are all over your body, and he has nothing left to be jealous over.

tim mcgee: if jealousy could be adorable, it would be on tim. he’s prone to self-consciousness and self-doubt, and that would all come out whenever his position with you feels threatened. he loves and trusts you explicitly - it’s just his own dumb head making up crazy thoughts that you’ll find somebody better than him and tim works himself into a frenzy and he ends up embarrassing himself in front of you in some way or another.

at home, tim just apologizes. stutters his excuses with pink cheeks and shaky fingers. it won’t be until a while into the relationship when he’s more confident and self-assured. but until then, sometimes you just gotta wrap your arms around him and hold him tight and let him figure out for himself that you really do love him - even when you can hear abby reassuring him from across the room.

tammy gregorio: when she’s feeling jealous, it’s going to be loud and it’s going to be obvious. tammy will deny it, of course. insist she isn’t the jealous type and that she’s got more self-respect than that. but she’s not the only eagle-eyed person on the team - you can always see her watching you from across the room if somebody’s getting a little too friendly. she’ll tell you over and over she doesn’t feel threatened, but it’s always proven wrong when tammy always subtly puts herself between you and some slimy asshole.

even if you call her out on it later, she wouldn’t really care. in fact, tammy will probably turn it around on you, somehow - ask why you were paying so much attention to how she reacted. did you want her to get jealous? do you think it’s hot when tammy intervenes and puts on her Scary Agent Face? you’ll say no, of course. but she’s a profiler.

nick torres: this man is an opportunist. that’s how he lived as an undercover agent, and that bleeds into his normal life. nick will take the hot, twisted jealousy he’s feeling and turn it into something he can really enjoy. this means coming up to you, grinning at the guy who’s been chatting you up, and really laying it on thick. kissing you, touching you, making sly little comments. nick is also really good at insulting people without actually saying anything rude (which he does.)

nick will act all innocent at home when you confront him. he’ll tell you that he just likes showing his girl off because you’re too fucking cute. but that act doesn’t hold up for very long, and nick just kinda ends up insulting the guy some more by saying he was an idiot and didn’t deserve you and he kinda smelled anyway so why would you ever give him the time of day?

sebastian lund: a man who’s in touch with his feelings knows when he’s feeling jealous, and it just makes sebastian feel guilty. he trusts you more than he trusts anybody else, and he knows you wouldn’t do anything - still, sebastian just gets this unfamiliar tightness in this stomach when he hears you laugh across the room and it wasn’t him you were laughing at. he’ll push it down and try to act nonchalant and like he doesn’t notice you. it doesn’t work. everybody on the team picks up on it and they just look sympathetic.

sebastian would get talkative at home. he can usually talk a lot on normal occasions, but now, he just feels like he wants to have your attention and rambling is the best way for him to do that. sebastian probably won’t even stop talking until you two lay in bed, and his words are stunted by a soft kiss. he’ll eventually feel better - at least until the next day when he’s teased about it.

#ncis x reader #ncis new orleans x reader #ncis nola imagine #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #dwayne pride x reader #tony dinozzo x reader #tim mcgee x reader #tammy gregorio x reader #sebastian lund x reader #chris lasalle x reader #nick torres x reader

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