#but the general talk seems to have decided I 'earned my right' to hate men. I'm just an extreme unfortunate case and have a distorted visio

[envolvenuances]

like it's not that people particularly like me or respect me. torn opinions on whether I am a self hating bisexual repressing my attraction to men or a self hating lesbian repressing my truth (I am a confident bisexual women with a preference for other women and enough age to admit men didn't make me happy). but I am taken more seriously and the reactions (especially from the neoliberal rebranded homophobia crew) are less aggressive. almost like I passed the ritual served my time as an object to men. a concerning amount of people on every social circle and political opinions still seem to believe lesbians have to "just try it" "just to be sure". otherwise they are either infantilized as eternal virgins who never reach complete womanhood. or vilified as fetishist predatory towards women in what is so obviously mere punishment for their complete proud and certain rejection of men. everyone is so lesbophobic it's unreal

[my-fancy-hat]

One of my goals for this year is to read (at my time) my readlist that I've been pushing to the side for years, I will ramble about every manga i finish and try to make a final post expressing my overall opinions. With that being said, I finished Homunculus.

Despite not being that popular as his peers of the genre, I have seen it throughout being compared side by side with other works as a "masterpiece", that is very depressing and very-many things. Since I can't completely deny my pretentious side, I decided to read it and well, it fell short. If I had to summarize all of Homunculus in a single panel it would be

Nakoshi eating his own semen. All born and end in here.

I assume the mini fame that this manga earned it comes from a male audience since this story touches deeply on the "modern male loneliness", and this story hits the nail on this topic really well. It frustrates me quite a bit because the concepts that were used and its premise in general are undoubtedly innovative and definitely interesting! they are an easy bait if you are looking for psychological and "deep" mangas. The creativity in which this author illustrates the human psichologycal struggles buried in the individual subconscious in such abstract and creative ways are magnificent. In fact there are whole pages that have helped me in my creative process, so kuddos for that.

As the story reached its last arc, I felt like the author took a few steps back. Some situations flew too convenient for the protagonist to justify... this (like, Ito knew Nakoshi wanted to trepranate himself. why he let him be after stealing his medical tools? anyways). But what bothers me most is that everything Nakoshi learned with each homonculi on his journey of self-discovery and with his relationship with Ito and Nanako ended in fucking nothing. That wouldn't be a bother if glimpses of his grown hadn't been shown chapter by chapter, but in the end what had the greatest weight was his obsession with himself, with his own misery locked in the barriers of his ego that keeps him from observating himself. In the end it's like Ito said, Nakoshi believed that he deserved an award for simply being empathetic and giving people their right to be seen and listened, a compensation for being an emotionally competent man in society. For this reason that I call homunculus an ode to male loneliness, ego, envy, demands and lies that capitalism impart on young men, the least attractive bird is the one who dies alone, where there's only room for resentment to grow, an allegory of the invisible man for the unlived easier life. That being said, the story is aware the only way to get out of your grave is to accept that the world owes you nothing, to stop licking your wounds and let them heal, which Nakoshi seemed to understand but never actually did. And just when I thought that "wow maybe acceptance and love is the solution" in how he looked so desperately for his first lover to reconcile with his past, everything goes back to zero.

Sadly, Nakoshi never loved Nanako, he only loved the attention she gave to him, yet he still abandoned her for other more beautiful yet hollow eyes. Nakoshi is just a clown looking for a circus, but for free and forever empty. I feel very sorry for Nanako, she didn't deserve anything that happened to her, to have trusted- puring her heart out to such a big piece of shit like Nakoshi. He ruined her life. I genuinely cried over her chapters and her past with him, and I totally agreed until the end with her inability to forgive him, until Nakoshi's face turned into a demon in the darkness and his obsession with himself, with his own semen, won him over.

Among the things that left me satisfied were Ito transitioning, the only character that I genuinely manage to appreciate and respect. I talked about them in another post but to summarize, I deeply hated at first how predatory they were with the sand girl, but in retrospect it it's brilliant how the author managed to illustrate through it their sexual confussion and gender identity crisis mixed with the yearn for their father's acceptance. They're the best character without a doubt.

I would recommend it? If you are looking for inspiration for your work because of it amazing art and concepts? 100%. If you are looking for a compelling pay-off story, no. If you want to eat your own semen waiting to get rewarded for doing the bare minimum, fix that idk.

Maybe some stories are told to end in pathetic tragedies.

[star-anise]

I'm up around 3am, thinking about incels and tradwives. (Note: If these are movements you're a fan of, or if you just want to fight with me generally, I will block you if you annoy me, and even if you behave there's a $20 fee if you expect me to actually reply to you in any way.)

This got started because of Khadija Mbowe's and F.D Signifier's videos about Black patriarchy, which has led me to pick up bell hooks' 2004 book The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love.

The thing that hooks says that really knocked my socks off in a "how dare you notice that" way is that a lot of people, men and women alike, are angry not just because of the male violence they've experienced, but because of the lack of male love they've experienced.

Which like, part of being human means that being seen and cared about is pretty viscerally equated with survival in our brains. We want it, we need it, we suffer when it isn't there. To be seen and genuinely loved by the people in our lives matters, so we are always affected when there's someone important to us who doesn't seem to see us, to love us, to care about our wellbeing, or to be proud of our accomplishments. It matters to be disregarded, rejected, or shamed by someone we want to love us.

But no power in the world can compel another person to give a shit about you—a truth most of us spend our lives frantically suppressing because being unloved is terrifying, so we work at being better, more attractive, smarter, more accomplished, more charming, sexier, or to be brutally honest, more lovable. But when we do experience a lack of love, a lot of us take that anger and decide to opt for second best. If we can't be loved, we can at least be powerful. Power can take a lot of forms, but because the lack of male love often goes hand-in-hand with violence, people who face it generally want, at the very least, to not be hurt anymore.

But there's another element in play. Patriarchal gender roles divide behaviours and skills in a very particular way: Boys and men are expected to use power to dominate, and girls and women are supposed to use emotions to tend and nurture. Anyone who fails to perform those roles gets harshly punished. Terrence Real talks about how this leaves men with very limited knowledge of their own emotional needs or how to communicate them to other people, and Paul Kivel talks about how boys are taught that this is women's work—that if they are masculine enough, they will attract a woman who will make sure that they feel loved and cared about. How a great deal of men's anger towards women is the feeling that women are witholding this essential service, or failing to fully handle men's emotions (which is pretty damn common, since humans aren't telepaths so it's basically impossible to reach inside someone's head and change their emotions for them).

So hooks notes that women are just as likely to uphold patriarchal gender roles as men, and one element of that is women's anger when men are emotionally vulnerable. Men who confess to their partners that they feel lost and ashamed and unworthy of love are doing exactly what women keep saying we want men to do, but the reaction many women have is a kind of incredulous frustration—"You want me to handle all this? Fuck no, I'm busy!"

Part of that reaction is that in patriarchal gender roles, it is a woman's literal job to completely soothe and manage her male partner's emotions—to diligently praise him, make him feel more accomplished, and to reassure him of her ongoing love and admiration in all things. And that is a lot of work that is quite likely not to succeed because it's really hard to talk someone out of a self-hating funk. (There's also an element of just plain sexism. Even without the implied demand for help, some women just think men's vulnerability is pathetic or laughable.)

The feminist response to this that hooks, Real, and Kivel advocate for is to spread the load a little more evenly; to work to reduce the violence with which gender roles are policed, to allow men to be soft and emotional, but in the process, give them the emotional skills to handle the shame and dread we all feel sometimes about not being lovable or or worthy, and empower them to form many different emotionally fulfilling relationships.

So the thing about incels is, they tend to be obsessed with finding a woman who will make them feel worthy, sexy, accomplished, admirable, and dominant, like a "real man". The prospect of getting a woman is the single potential oasis of love and support in an incredibly bleak desert landscape in which a romantic partnership is the only possible source men are permitted to seek love and care from. A man who hasn't gotten a girl is a pathetic loser whose life is meaningless.

What that entire worldview takes for granted is how the desert became a desert in the first place. How boys learn to fear the violence and rejection that comes from stepping out of their gender role by being emotionally vulnerable or by emotionally nurturing somebody else; how emotional knowledge and expression are punished by a system that says men should always seek to dominate. The desire for a female partner rests on a bedrock of learned fear and contempt for the idea that men can or even should have the kind of emotionally close and supportive friendships among themselves that women tend to have with each other.

Incels are the fucking allegory of the long spoons in action. They gather in huge numbers to discuss their pain, frustration, and disappointment about their difficulty attaining a relationship that provides emotional fulfillment, but it's impossible for them to try to seek or offer that kind of relationship with the many many people right there also looking for love, because violating the gender rules means inviting violence and ostracism. Affection and mutual esteem between men is super gay and doesn't count, especially when it's provided because of a mutual vulnerability instead of admiration for achievement. So it's incredibly hard for incels to in any way break out of the mental cage that says the way to be loved is to be as masculine, as stoic and unemotional and successful and admirable and dominant as possible. And because being dominant tends to require people to be better than, incels spend a lot of time criticizing each other for failing to be masculine enough, and therefore not worthy of love.

Meanwhile... tradwives.

If you're into men, the dream of being truly loved by a man who will take care of you and make your life materially better is fucking amazing stuff. That's just... that's just The Dream, okay? The romance industry's extreme popularity decade after decade will tell you what bell hooks also notes: Women who are into men want to be loved by men SO MUCH.

So it really seems to me that the basic appeal of being a tradwife is managing to be submissive enough to get the men they love to genuinely show up and fully commit to loving them. If conflict in relationships happen because men feel threatened in their masculinity or not fully loved by their wives, then gosh darnit, these women will plaster themselves over the cracks to make sure there are absolutely no problems. That will earn them a relationship where they are truly loved and appreciated.

(It's a trap. I hate to say it, but we're not a telepathic species, and you will never manage to be good enough to actually change what someone else feels. No matter how hard you submit, your husband will still feel moments of doubt and fear and inadequacy, because he's human and we're built like that. It's the cross we have to bear as a species. And it does not go well at all if both of you are used, in those moments, for blaming you for whatever you "did" to "make" him feel that way.)

[americasass91]

The Shield and the Sweater

Hello lovelies! This little fic came to me when the lovely, beautiful, talented @stargazingfangirl18​ asked a very important question on her blog. Would you rather be enemies to lovers with Steve Rogers or friends with benefits with Ransom Drysdale. Well my greedy ass wanted both. Thus the birth of this story. I also turned it around a little to make it fit into Siri’s 5k Soft Dark Challenge! I’ve never written anything dark before. Also not sure if this classifies as soft!dark or if it’s more dark. But it’s one of those! If that makes you uncomfortable, then please don’t read it. This is also my first time writing a threesome, so let me know if it sucks! I hope you enjoy it! 😘

General prompts:

8)The town golden boy isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

Dialogue prompts:

3)”Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

11)”I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

Rating: Explicit(if you’re under 18, please leave)

Words: 6.2k(this one got away from me, sorry)

Warnings: soft!dark/dark themes, unprotected sex, anal sex, vaginal sex, threesome(M/M/F), manipulation, language, model!Ransom being an asshole, Steve not being who you think he is

“And I really think if everyone pitches in to make these changes, it’ll really make a difference in the long run.”

Wow, so this is how you were going to die. In your whole 20 something years of existence, you never thought boredom would be your cause of death.

Sure, you were the lead Accountant at Stark Tower and these monthly meetings were mandatory. But did you really have to be here to listen to Rogers go on and on about how we can ‘improve our working environment’? Why did he even care anyway? He was barely ever here as it is.

You must have been zoning out worse than you thought because next thing you know your coworker, Janet, is poking you in the side and pointing towards Steve.

With a quick glare sent her way, you move your gaze to the Captain. He is giving you the same look he always does. Like he’s disgusted with you. “I’m sorry Miss Y/L/N. Am I boring you?”

A scoff escapes your mouth. “No, not at all Captain Rogers. I just love when people who are never here seem to always have an opinion on how things are run and how they could be better.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “Do you have a problem with me, Y/N? Cause if you do, I’m sure there’s a way to solve that.”

You stand up and match his expression. You lean forward with your hands resting on the table. You can’t help but notice the Captain drops his gaze to your cleavage that’s now on more display than before. But just as quick as it was there, his gaze rises back up to meet your face. “Is that a threat, Captain Rogers?”

“Oh, it’s more than a-“

Tony quickly stands up and claps his hands together. “Okay! Meeting adjourned! You two, come here!”

You quickly straighten yourself up and make your way over to Tony. You always try to make sure you show him as much respect as you can. He’s your boss after all.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. My emotions got the better of me. It won’t happen again.”

He nods to you. “Thank you, Y/N. I accept your apology. But what I’m not understanding is why Steve here wanted to fire you?”

You both turn to look at Steve who has a sheepish expression on his face. “Yeah, sorry about that, Tony. She just seems to bring out this ugly side of me. I’ll try to keep it more contained next time.” He then moves his gaze to you. “Sorry, Y/N. I promise to be more professional moving forward.”

He makes a quick exit, leaving you shocked that he apologized at all. Ever since you started here almost a year ago now, you’ve been at each other’s throats. It was your fault really.

It was your first week and you were in the break room grabbing some coffee when you overheard a few of your coworkers making fun of Steve for being a virgin. Now, you weren’t sure if it was true but you wanted to fit in so you made your way over to the group and asked if anyone calls him Captain Virgin. That earned you some big laughs. But the laughter died down quickly as Steve entered the room to grab some coffee. Judging by the glare he gave you, he heard what you had called him.

You went straight to Tony after that to apologize. You really didn’t want to get fired. But you wanted to make sure Tony heard the story from you before Steve got the chance to talk to him. To your utter surprise, Tony found the name hilarious and gave you a high five, saying you were going to fit right in.

Well long story short, it’s almost a year later and Steve is still getting called Captain Virgin. Oh but don’t worry, he has names of his own for you. His favorite is Tony’s Pet. For some reason, it really eats at you when he calls you that.

But the one thing you hate the most about Steve?

Is how utterly, hopelessly, and desperately attracted you are to the son of a bitch.

That happened in your second week when you went to use the complimentary gym and saw him beating the shit out of some poor punching bag. Your panties and your workout were definitely ruined after that.

The more you fought with Steve, the more you just wanted him to bend you over any surface and have his way with you.  

It was despicable how horny you were for him. You were pretty sure all he’d have to do is snap his fingers and point to the floor in front of him and you’d happily drop to your knees and take him down your throat.

So that left you leaving work every day in a horny state. You started by taking care of it yourself when you got home. But after a while even that wasn’t cutting it. Then you started bringing home one night stands. But after the 4th disappointing non-orgasm, you gave up and just learned to live with it.

Sure, you could attempt to start being nice to Steve and maybe ask him out. But you were pretty sure he hated you. Plus you have way too much pride to actually do that.

So that leads to now. It’s Friday night and your workday is almost over. You’re inputting the last few numbers from the last expense report in your pile.

You get the last number put in when Janet approaches you. She sits on the corner of your desk. “So, you coming tonight?”

You take your glasses off and lean back in your chair, stretching your arms over your head. “Coming where?”

She rolls her eyes at you. “Oh, come on Y/N! You know we go out almost every Friday night. You never come and you always say you will!”

You start to clear off your desk and put things back in their place. “Yeah well I could. Or I could go home and sit on my ass and do nothing.”

“Well, that explains why it’s looking a bit bigger lately.”

Janet’s jaw drops as she directs her gaze at Steve, who is now standing in front of your desk.

You smirk and lean on your elbows towards him. “You like looking at my ass, Rogers?”

He scoffs. “Well when it takes up that much space, it’s hard not to notice. But here, I came to give you this.”

He hands you what looks to be a 10 page expense report. “Sorry it’s late, I’ve been busy, you know. Saving the world.”

You ungraciously take it from him and throw it in your to-do pile. “That can wait until Monday. I’ve got plans. We’re going to-” you look towards Janet for clarification. “Lavo.” You turn your gaze back to Steve. “Yeah, we’re going to Lavo. So this will wait til Monday if that’s okay with you, sir.”

Steve does his best to move his bag and jacket subtly towards the front of his pants so you won’t notice his growing hard-on. He hates how turned on he gets when you guys get into it. And then you call him sir? Jesus. He clears his throat. “Of course, I'm the one who turned it in at the last minute.”

Janet speaks up quickly. “You could always come with us! It’ll be fun!”

You grin widely at him. “Yeah! You could finally get your cherry popped, Captain Virgin.”

Steve can’t help the blush that covers his cheeks. “Uh, I can assure you my cherry has been popped since the 40’s. But thank you for your concern. And thank you for the invite, Janet. But i think I’ll stay in tonight.” He takes out his phone and sends a quick text before turning around and walking towards the elevators.

Wow. He didn’t even try to retaliate. You shrug your shoulders and grab your purse before standing up. “Alright, I’ll go! But on one condition!”

Janet claps her hands in excitement and starts walking with you towards the elevators. “Sure, anything!”

You press the button for the lobby. “You are going to be my wingwoman. Cause this girl definitely needs to get laid.”

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

Lavo is super packed by the time you guys arrive. Of course you all had to go home and change.

You decided to go with a simple, yet effective, little black dress that showed off just enough to get men’s attention.

Thankfully you are able to score the last table. The waiter comes over and gets everyone’s drink order. You decide to stick with your favorite. You don’t want to get too drunk on the off chance you find someone to take home.

About a half hour into hot office gossip, Lucy, who is sitting across from you, taps your arm. You raise your eyebrows in question towards her.

She subtly nods her head towards the bar. “Okay I’m pretty sure the hottest guy I have ever seen is checking you out.”

You can’t help the smirk that crosses your face. “Yeah? Which one?”

“You can’t miss him. He’s fucking hot. Like no comparison to any of the other dudes sitting up there.”

You glance down at your drink and quickly finish the remainder. You stand up and adjust your dress, pushing up your breasts in the process. “Well, then I guess it’s time for a refill.” You wink and turn to make your way towards the bar.

It doesn’t take long for you to spot him. And boy was Lucy not kidding. He was fucking hot. Brown hair, blue eyes, and a smug smirk that would normally turn you off. But on him it worked. And who even looks that good in a fucking cream colored cable knit?

You go up to the bar, not too close to Mr. Hottie of course, and patiently wait for the bartender.

Hottie McHothot not so subtly moves his gaze up and down your body. He must like what he sees. “Hey honey, have you ever raised chickens?”

Uh. That’s definitely not the first thing you expected to come out of his mouth. You look over at him with confusion on your face. “Uh, no. Why do you ask?”

He just shrugs his shoulders. “Just kinda figured you might. Cause you sure can raise a cock.”

Okay, you’ve definitely never heard that line before. You crack up. You’re pretty sure you even snorted on accident. Once you collect yourself you ask, “Has that line ever worked for you?”

The bartender makes his way over to take your order. After reordering what you had before, you turn towards Hottie and wait for his answer.

“Not sure, my buddy told it to me yesterday so this is the first time I’m using it. Did it work?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know. It was pretty cheesy.”

“Yeah, maybe. But it got you to laugh. So I’d say mission accomplished. Name’s Ransom. What’s yours, pretty girl?” He holds out his hand for you to shake.

Ransom. Now where have you heard that name before? You accept his hand shake. You can’t help but notice how much bigger his hands are than yours. Jesus. You could already feel your panties getting wet.

“My name’s Y/N. Ransom, that sounds familiar. Do I know you?”

He releases your hand and goes to take a sip of his bourbon. “Well, I guess that depends. Do you read magazines or have you seen the side of the city bus lately?”

You quickly wrack your brain. You don’t read many magazines. But the bus drives by you everyday on your walk to work. Holy shit! That’s it! He’s in his underwear on the side of the bus. You’ve drooled over that picture plenty of times.

“Oh, yeah! I remember now! I’ve seen you on the bus! What’s it an ad for? I can never really get past the almost naked man. A bit distracting on my way to work.”

He smirks as he briefly glances down at your breasts. “I’m glad you know my work. It’s an ad for Calvin Klein. For their new line of men’s briefs. Sorry I’ve been a distraction.” He sends you a wink.

Fuck. He was a model. And a popular one at that if he’s in an ad for Calvin Klein.

“I didn’t say I minded. You can make it up to me you know.” You wink back. Holy shit. Were you really flirting with a model?

“Yeah? Well, how about we get out of here and I’ll show you a fully naked man.”

Okay. Cheesy line number 2. Was that really going to work on you?

Yes.

Yes it was.

“Let me just go grab my purse.”

Drink forgotten, you go back to your table as quickly as you can without looking desperate. “Sorry, girls. But this is where I leave you.”

Janet glances down at her phone. “We haven’t even been here an hour yet! Where are you going?”

You send her a wink. “I’m leaving with that guy! You guys know him! Remember that ad on the side of the bus?”

They all turn their gaze to him. And they all make it very obvious. He just waves and sends them a smirk.

“Holy fucking shit! That’s the new Calvin Klein guy! Oh my god you lucky bitch!”

“Wait! Listen. We’ll let you go on one condition.”

You furrow your brows in confusion. “Okay?”

Janet gives you a naughty smirk. “On Monday I’ll need a report on if they had to stuff his briefs to get that delicious looking bulge or not.”

You give her a naughty smirk of your own. “I can totally do that.”

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

Monday morning you were all smiles as you stepped off the elevator and headed towards your desk. You give Janet a wink as you pass by her. She quickly makes her way over just as you sit down. “Um, excuse me hoe. But is that the same dress you were wearing Friday night?”

You quickly grab the cardigan you always keep in your desk out and put it on and button it up, attempting to look a little more professional. “Maybe.”

Janet opens her mouth in shock. “You stayed the whole weekend with him? You little slut! How was it?”

You turn on your computer and grab for the expense report of Steve’s you left in your to-do pile. Then you turn towards your nosy coworker. “Well, if you must know, yes. I did stay the whole weekend with him. And I’m pretty sure I was in an orgasm-induced coma the whole time. It’s all kind of a rough, sticky, mind-blowing blur.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

You shrug your shoulders as you put in your login information on the computer. “I haven’t decided yet. While the sex was the best I’ve ever had, he’s kind of an ass. Talked about himself and all the famous people he’s hooked up with since becoming a model. I honestly kept initiating sex just to make him shut up.”

She gives you a look like you’re stupid. “I’m not seeing the issue here. So what if he talks about himself a lot? The sex was amazing. You need to lock that down girl.”

You roll your eyes at her. “That’s the thing, Janet. He doesn’t do relationships. He told me so multiple times. Plus I’m pretty sure he was texting another chick in between our ‘sessions’. I suppose if I’m desperate, I’ll get a hold of him.”

“You know you could always just have him on backup for sex. Like a friends with benefits situation.”

“Janet, I’m in my late 20s. I’m too old for that kind of relationship.”

“Exactly, you’re in your late 20s! This is the perfect time for that kind of relationship before you settle down and get married! Have one last final hoorah!”

“I can’t have this conversation before caffeine. I’m going to get coffee. You act like I’m dying soon or something.” You turn to walk away but then remember you were supposed to tell her something. “Oh yeah and by the way. The bulge is definitely not stuffed.”

You give her a wink and then head to the break room for some much needed coffee. When you see who’s in there, you almost contemplate going downstairs to a different break room.

Steve is standing at the counter, preparing his coffee. He turns when he hears you come in and gives you a once over. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

You grab a mug out of the cabinet beside him. “Sorry my appearance isn’t up to your standards today, Rogers. I was a little...busy this weekend.”

He takes a sip of his coffee to make sure it’s right. Then he moves out of your way so you can get to the coffee, but still staying close. “Busy getting run over by a truck? Cause that’s kind of what you look like.”

You pour yourself a generous amount of coffee and take a long sip, letting the bitter liquid slowly make you human. “Yeah, well. I was busy getting fucked all weekend, Rogers. But I know your little innocent mind wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

That wipes the stupid little smirk right off his face. He almost looks pissed. He moves even closer to you. Almost pressing himself right up against you. So close that you can smell his coffee-scented breath. If you were wearing panties, they’d be ruined.

“Not all of us feel the need to sleep around. Some of us are looking for a real connection. Not just a one night stand of meaningless, mediocre sex.”

You press yourself just a little closer to him, his chest now touching yours. “Oh, it was anything but mediocre. Maybe if you actually got some, you’d know what that feels like.”

He leans his head down until his mouth is next to your ear, his left hand now resting on your hip. “You really need to stop insinuating that I’m a virgin sweetheart. If you were nicer to me, I’d show you that I know how to fuck.” With that he backs up and heads out of the break room.

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Jesus Christ. You swear you almost came.

And if you were nicer to him? Fuck him. He’s not nice to you either. That’s okay. You have someone who can scratch this itch.

You pull out your phone and send a quick text.

To: Fuckboi

You busy tonight? I could really use a release.

The reply came almost immediately.

From: Fuckboi

Didn’t get enough of my cock this weekend huh? I suppose I could make myself available.

You roll your eyes and quickly reply with your address and what time to be over.

The rest of the day passes by slowly. It takes you half the day to enter Steve’s expense report. God he’s descriptive. At least it’s completed. You can’t really say that much for the other Avengers. They usually half assed them and made them barely acceptable.

You are shutting down for the day when Steve approaches your desk. You remove your glasses and look at him expectantly. “Is there something I can help you with, Steve?”

A blush creeps it’s way across his cheeks. “Um, I was actually just wondering if you had time to go over the new expense report forms? They should be a lot easier to fill out.”

You glance down at the clock on your computer. Ransom is going to be at your place in about 20 minutes.“Can we do it tomorrow? I have company that’ll be showing up at my apartment in like 20 minutes.”

His hopeful smile falls. His face is now unreadable. “Would your company happen to be whoever you spent the weekend with?”

Confused, you grab for your purse after getting your computer shut down. “Actually, yes. Should I have asked your permission first?” You attempt a joke to ease the sudden tension.

He pulls out his phone and starts typing furiously. Wow. You weren’t aware he knew how to text. You hear it ping with a reply before he angrily puts it back in his pocket. “Sure, we can do this tomorrow. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your whoreing around.”

Your jaw drops in surprise. Sure you guys were always throwing jabs at each other. But he’d never said anything like this before. And in such a mean tone.

You round your desk and stand right in front of him. “Fuck you, Steve.”

You hurry towards the elevators before he can see the tears that have welled up. You couldn’t let him know he had that power over you. Asshole. Thank god Ransom was coming over. Hopefully he could fuck what Steve just said right out of your head.

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

You’ve lost count of how many orgasms Ransom has pulled from you with his mouth when there’s a knock on your door.

Ransom looks up at you from his kneeling position on your living room floor. “Did you invite someone else to join us, pretty girl?”

You scoff and push him away so you can stand up. You pull your dress down as you make your way towards the door. “Yeah. I can barely handle just you. I’m pretty sure if we added someone else, I’d actually die.”

You open the door and gasp in surprise. “Steve? What are you doing here?”

He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Look, I know you probably already have company but I felt really bad about what I said to you earlier today and wanted to apologize.”

You have so many questions. “How did you know where I lived?”

That sheepish smile makes its appearance again. “I may or may not have looked in your employee file.”

You shake your head. “And you felt the need to come all the way here and apologize? Why not just text me?”

“It would only have felt right to me to do it in person. I really am sor-”

You feel a pair of arms wrap around you from behind. “Well, who do we have here? Why is Captain America at your door?”

You turn your head to address Ransom. “He just came by to apologize to me. I think he was just leaving.”

Steve has a disappointed look on his face. “Yeah, I suppose I was.”

“Awe, what a shame. I thought you were gonna ask him to join us, pretty girl.”

Steve’s eyes grow wide at the thought. You quickly speak up. “No, I don’t think he’d be comfortable with that. He’s a little old fashioned.” You give him a sincere smile. You didn't think that was a bad thing.

Steve looks back towards the elevators and then back to you. He clears his throat. “What if I wanted to join you?” Seeing your wide eyed look, he quickly adds, “Only if Y/N would be comfortable with that of course.”

You contemplate what the consequences could be in your head. But then you get distracted when Ransom starts grinding his hard on against your ass. “Come on, pretty girl. Make a decision.”

The next word comes out of your mouth faster than what your brain can process. “Okay.”

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

Now you were standing awkwardly in your bedroom with Steve and Ransom looking at you expectantly.

You’ve never done this before so you’re not sure how this is supposed to go. “So, um. How do we start exactly?”

Ransom smirks and comes up behind you. “I think you should call the shots, pretty girl. If you’re okay with that, Steve?”

With the mention of his name, he walks towards you and places his hands on your hips. “I think that’s a great idea. Can I kiss you now?” He places his hand under your chin and raises your face up to meet his. “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” With that, his lips meet yours. It’s explosive. You quickly wrap your hands around his neck and press yourself up against him.

You get so lost in the kiss, you forget that Ransom is there. That is until he presses his lips against your neck and presses himself against your ass. It presses you even further against Steve, making you feel his excitement against your lower belly.

You’re so overwhelmed already and you’d barely started. You may not survive this evening.

As you move your hands down to remove Steve’s shirt, Ransom is unzipping your dress, pressing kisses to every inch of exposed skin.

Without breaking the kiss, Steve moves his hands around to unhook your bra so he can get his hands on your breasts. He pinches your nipples, causing you to moan into his mouth. He moves his lips to your neck, sucking on your pulse point.

After successfully removing your dress, Ransom stands back up and turns your head to connect your lips. He starts rutting his clothed hard on against your naked ass. His left hand reaches around to bat one of Steve’s away so he can squeeze your breast.

Steve takes the hand that had been swatted away and moves it down to your soaking wet core. He starts lightly circling your clit. Just enough pressure to make you mewl.

You reach behind you with your left hand and tug at the waistband of Ransom’s briefs. “Off.” You moan out as you take your right hand and start attempting to take off Steve’s jeans. He smirks into your neck and helps you out. He barely gets them unbuttoned and unzipped before you’re reaching your hand into them and his boxers to grab his cock. It feels big.

Ransom grabs your left hand and places it on his now free cock. You wrap your hand around it and give it a squeeze before you start pumping your hand up and down. You do the same to Steve’s, making the both of them let out grunts against both sides of your neck. Steve increases the pressure on your clit a little. Still not enough.

“Nee-need, you. Please.” You weakly moan out. Ransom moves his mouth up to your ear. “How do you want us, pretty girl?”

You reluctantly pull away from both of them so you can think. You decide to be greedy. You point to Steve. “I want you to lay on the bed, please.”

He does as you ask. Putting his hands behind his head as he awaits further instructions.

You get on the bed and straddle him. You turn around and reach your arm out for Ransom. “Want you behind me.” You lean over and open your bedside drawer to grab the lube and toss it at Ransom. He smirks as he straddles Steve’s legs and gets behind you. He uncaps the lube and starts coating his cock with a generous amount. “Need my cock in that ass, pretty girl?”

You hold up your hand. “Wait.” You lean down towards Steve and give him a quick kiss. “Are you okay with this?”

He nods his head. “As long as you are.” You raise back up and smile at him. You turn your head and look at Ransom. “I’m assuming you're okay with this?”

He just smirks and squeezes some lube out so that it slides down the crack of your ass. “More than okay, pretty girl. Need me to stretch you out first?”

You smirk and pull him in for a quick, filthy kiss. “I think it got plenty stretched out this weekend.”

He matches your smirk. “You little slut. Wanting both of our cocks stuffing you full.”

You whimper as he lands a smack on your ass. Leaning up on your knees, you grab a hold of Steve’s cock and start running his tip up and down your folds. He places his left hand on your right hip and his right hand on your left thigh. “Condom?”

You quickly shake your head and pause your actions. “On the pill. Unless of course you’d be more comfortable with one.”

He shakes his head. “No, just making sure.”

You turn back to Ransom. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready for you.”

He nods and places his hands on your shoulders, waiting somewhat patiently.

You slowly sink down on Steve’s cock. He’s stretching you out so deliciously. It burns in just the right way. Ransom may be longer, but Steve is definitely thicker.

After you get fully seated on him, you take a minute to adjust. It only takes a few seconds. You turn your head towards Ransom. “Okay, I’m ready.”

He removes his right hand from your shoulder and grabs the base of his cock and starts pressing against the tight ring of muscle. He’d been in there a lot over the weekend. But it was still a tight fit regardless. He doesn’t go as slow and sheaths himself to the hilt, causing you to moan out in slight pain and pleasure.

Holy fuck. You feel so full. You think you might die. That is until Ransom removes his cock until just the tip remains and then forcefully thrust back in, causing you to grind on Steve’s dick.

Steve grunts out from the movement and starts thrusting up into you the best he can from his position. Ransom wraps his left arm around you and continues his thrusts, not letting up his pace. You don’t even really have to move, the both of them doing it for you. They somehow find the perfect rhythm. Each of them pulling out and pushing in at the same time. One of your hands is behind you, resting on the back of Ransom’s head while the other is resting on Steve’s chest.

Steve sits up suddenly and pulls you in for a kiss. “Like being stuffed with both of our cocks, pretty girl?” You hear from behind you. “Yes. So good. So full. Gonna cum.”

Ransom removes his arm from around you and reaches down and starts circling your clit. “Do it. Cum all over us. Make a mess.”

Steve can feel you squeezing him. “Please, sweetheart. Need to feel you cum on my cock. You’re gripping me so good.”

You explode. You clamp your eyes shut, seeing stars behind your eyelids. You let the both of them fuck you through it.

Ransom’s hips stutter. The fluttering around his cock is too good. He cums with a shout of your name, filling up your ass to the brim. He gives you a few more thrusts before he pulls out and collapses beside you two.

Steve’s been patient while you come down from your high. He lays back down, pulling you with him so that your chest to chest. He bends his knees and grabs onto your hips. “You ready, sweetheart?” You raise up, both of your hands on each side of his head. You give him a nod.

That’s all he needs. He starts fucking you, hard and fast, chasing his release. He can feel it building. He just needs to feel you come undone around him again. He moves one of his hands and starts circling your clit with his thumb. “Need you to cum for me again, Y/N.”

You shake your head. “Can’t. Too much.”

Ransom sits up beside you. “I know what she needs.” He reaches over with his left hand and wraps it around your throat, squeezing gently.

It makes you clench down on Steve’s cock. “Yeah? That all you needed, sweetheart? A hand wrapped around your pretty throat? I know you like it. Can feel you squeezing me.” He picks up his pace. The only sounds that can be heard are his grunts, your breathy monas, and skin slapping against skin.

It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to hit you. This one is somehow even more intense than the last.

You must’ve blacked out for a few seconds because the next thing you know, you’re waking up in between Steve and Ransom.

Steve smiles down at you. “There she is. We lost you for a second, sweetheart.”

You feel drunk. You smile goofily up at him. “Did you cum?”

Just as you ask that, you can feel his release seeping out of your overused cunt. Then you feel cum leaking out of your ass. You hide your face behind your hands in embarrassment. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

Ransom removes one hand while Steve removes the other. “Nuh uh uh. No hiding allowed, pretty girl. I have no regrets.” He looks at Steve. “Do you?”

Steve smiles down at you and leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips. “None from me. You tired, sweetheart?”

You let out a big yawn and nod your head, slowly closing your eyes. “Get some rest, pretty girl.” That’s the last thing you hear before sleep takes you.

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

You wake up sometime in the early morning, stretching out your sore limbs. You know you have a dumb smile on your face. But you can’t help but notice your empty bed.

You sit up and hiss at the deliciously sore feeling between your legs. You grab your robe and slip it on. You can smell coffee coming from the kitchen. You giddily make your way out of the room and down the hallway. They both barely just come into view, still unaware you’re there, when you hear Steve speak.

“I thought you were going to be an asshole to her? Make her see I’m not that bad.”

You hear Ransom next. “I was an asshole to her. I’m sorry I dicked her down so good that she wanted more.”

Steve scoffs. “I never gave you the okay to fuck her!”

“You also didn’t tell me it was off limits. Look you got what you wanted right?”

“No, actually I didn’t. I didn’t pay you so we could have a threesome together.”

What the fuck? Steve paid Ransom to help him get in your pants?

“Ok, how about this? I’ll give you all of your money back if I can fuck her one more time before I go? Then we’ll be squared away.”

Steve seems to be conflicted. “Fine! But this is the last time Ransom. I have to get to work anyway. After this, she’s mine. And make sure she’s not late for work herself.”

Before you have time to react, Steve rounds the corner and sees you standing there. He has a deer caught in headlights look. Ransom comes up beside him and sees you. “Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

You slowly start backing up towards your bedroom. Steve moves towards you, stopping once you put your hands up. “Stay away from me! Both of you! I want nothing to do with either of you!”

Ransom moves past Steve and grabs onto your arms. “Oh, please. You’d fuck us again if we wanted. Wouldn’t you?”

You spit in his face. “Fuck you, Hugh.”

He gets a sinister look on his face. “Wrong move, pretty girl.” He looks toward Steve. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck the brat out of her. You better tell her boss she won’t be in today.”

Your eyes go wide at his words. You start thrashing against him, trying your best to get away. Steve has had enough. He comes over and yanks you away from him and presses you against the wall. “You better calm down, sweetheart. I’ll treat you like a princess if you can be my good girl. Can you do that?”

You shake your head. “Why would you think I’d want anything to do with you after finding out you paid someone to help get into my pants?”

He gives you an evil smirk. “Because if you don’t, I’ll just have to release the tape of last night on the internet. Let everyone see how much of a slut you actually are.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re bluffing.”

He smirks and turns his head towards Ransom. “Show her.”

Ransom gets his phone out of his pocket and swipes at the screen for a second before turning it in your direction.

Holy shit. They weren’t bluffing. There you were, getting fucked by the both of them. That would ruin you if it got out. Not only would you get fired, but your parents would probably disown you. You’d never have a normal relationship again. You’re fucked. Even more than you were last night. How had you not noticed they were recording it?

Ransom must have read your mind. “I set my phone up while you were busy with Steve’s fingers on your cunt and his tongue down your throat. I think you need to ask her again Steve.”

Steve grabs your chin and moves your gaze onto his face. “I’ll ask you again. Are you going to be my good girl? Let Ransom fuck you one more time and then it’ll just be me and you?”

You drop your gaze to the floor. You feel a tear run down your cheek as you whisper out, “I’ll be your good girl.”

Taglist: @stargazingfangirl18​ @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @lllols @patzammit​ @quxxnxfhxll​

Steve Taglist: @donutloverxo​

[murderousginger]

Standing in the Ashes

Angel on Fire part 2

John Shelby x reader

Word count: 3,214

Warnings: They're criminals, guys, they do bad things.

You fell into a comfortable silence next to John. His presence was an anchor in the crowded room and it annoyed you to realize it. You sipped your second drink, knowing that you wanted to stay a steady tipsy rather than belligerent. In all honesty, you would have preferred not to drink at all but choosing not to drink caused too many questions. Your nerves could not take it today.

John sat beside you, you both watching the other from the corner of your eye until you had Harry top off your glass. You looked over to John and tilted your head as you raised your glass. 

"Been a pleasure," you said as he took a drink from his glass. "But I do believe I have some men to bait and your brother and Isaiah to entertain."

"I doubt there'd be an argument if you stayed sat with me."

You faltered, mouth open as the words swam in your head. 

"You're kind, but the silence can't be that entertaining," you stammered. "I'm sure you have business or a missus to get back to. Finn talks about his wild nieces and nephew."

John's eyes softened and he tilted his glass in his hand, watching the whiskey roll about.

"Martha," he said loud enough to carry but only that, "she passed years ago. It's just me, the maid and my children."

"Oh," you dropped your eyes, "I'm sorry."

You weighed in your mind what to say next when his sad eyes flickered and he smiled. 

"You can do what you want, (Y/N), I won't stop you," he said as he leaned back. "But my life is fuckin' screaming and chaos, so don't think I can't appreciate two people sitting in comfortable quiet."

You nodded as your lip curled up in a half smile. You gathered your drink, John offering you a quick nod before you disappeared into the fray. 

The next hour or two you nursed your drink as you flirted and brought men to the boys, dropping them at the table for a transaction like a dog with a dove. When you sent about a half dozen to Isaiah's friendly and knowing smile, you decided you had done enough and took your seat back at the table. 

"Decided to take the night off to snog Michael?" You shot at your friend, who hadn't moved from under Michael's arm all night. 

"Don't be jealous, (Y/N)," Isaiah said loudly as he wrapped his arm around you before he pushed his nose through your hair to your ear. "You know they'll tire of each other in a week. Give it time."

You hated getting testy with her but she did this every time. She'd find a boy -- this time none other than Michael Gray -- and she'd lose herself and your friendship as she batted her eyelashes. And a few weeks later when she became bored or he did, she'd come back and be your best friend again. You'd grown frustrated with the cycle. Was she really a best friend if she forgot you so easily?

Just another reason the night scene made you so tired. As much as you adored Isaiah and Finn, none of them were around until the sun went down. No one visited or asked to spend your lunch with you. You only ever saw them under the promise of whiskey and snow and you had grown bored of both. 

"Everyone that's not a Shelby or fucking a Shelby, get out of my bar!" Harry bellowed as he whipped a towel above his head to get everyone's attention. "That includes the young Peakys in the corner!"

"Harry I'm a fuckin' Shelby!" Finn yelled back with a laugh, his arms wide.

"When you get hair on your balls, you can stay like your brothers. Til then, out!"

The boys booed as they laughed and finished their drinks, slamming the glasses on the table. You froze as you felt hands wrap around the back of your chair and warm arms touch your back. 

"You lot not ready to pack it in?" The familiar voice said behind you. "Tell you what, if you can talk Harry out of a bottle, you can use my kitchen to wind down. Play a round of cards, drink, whatever."

Finn squinted up at his brother from your side as you fought yourself from doing the same. You felt heated with him so close to you. Agitated by his nonchalance at pushing himself into your space. 

"You've never offered before," Finn said. "Why now?"

You felt his arms move up against your back as you circled the rim of your glass with your finger.

"Kids are a bit older and your ruckus won't wake them anymore," John said as he leaned down around you to come face to face with his brother. "Pretty sure you could bomb the house and they wouldn't stir. But if you'd rather go sit on a bridge in the cold…"

"A bridge," your friend said as she crinkled her nose at the very thought and leaned further into Michael and whined. "It's so cold out, Michael."

"Then it's settled," Isaiah grinned. "We'll head over to your place, John. Thank you."

"What about you, (Y/N)?" John said, his breath hitting the top of your head. "You haven't said a word."

You shifted in your seat as everyone eyed you. You could still feel John's breath in your hair. 

"I do have to work in the morning," you started, earning a groan around the table. "But I suppose I can go for a little bit. I really should be home before dawn, though."

"Relax," Isaiah said as he bumped your shoulder with his and winked. "I'll take you home when you're ready. Get you all tucked in proper for that job of yours in the morning."

You snorted a laugh as you rolled your eyes at him. 

"Right," John cleared his throat as he let go of your chair. "I'll see you lot soon, then."

You felt the pressure leave and it made you feel a little colder. 

----

You all sat around a small table, passing the bottle around as the boys played some sort of card game. Everyone was too drunk or tired for actual rules, so the game kept changing as it went. 

John's kitchen was nice enough. It was mostly clean and had little remnants of the children, a colored wall here, a high chair there. It felt honey with it's white washed walls and cozy atmosphere. You were all just able to fit, a small walkway around the table to be able to access the rest of the house. 

John had immediately left once you were all situated, telling Finn to lock up when you were all done. You would be lying if you said you weren't a bit disappointed. Conversation with John was at least tolerable. You settled in, realizing you'd be subjected to more bravado, yelling, and stories of conquest rather than a decent conversation and actual thought.

The boys had drunk about half of the bottle when the room was a loud roar. Finn and Isaiah kept knocking into you, teasing and taunting, as Michael and your friend got closer and closer into their own world across the table. The loud noises and the constant knocking about had set your teeth on edge. You needed away. You stood up and shot a look at your friend. 

"I need to use the bathroom," you said pointedly as she tucked into Michael's side. 

"So go, then," Michael chortled. "You need an escort?"

You glared at him before looking back at your friend, who wouldn't meet your eye. You sighed. 

"Some friend you are," you mumbled as you rolled your eyes and left to go find the bathroom. 

It wasn't as hard as you had thought, thankfully. Bedroom doors were closed for the night and the house was covered in toys but otherwise easily figured out. 

You went into the bathroom and flicked on a light, looking at your tired eyes in the mirror. No one else seemed to notice the bags under your eyes as of late. To you they shone so clearly, but no one mentioned them once. You shut and locked the door before you closed the toilet lid and sat on it, head in your hands. The roar of your friends was muffled, and for once you felt relief. Quiet. 

You splashed your face with cool water, taking one last look in the mirror at your haunted eyes, and walked out only to run into something. Or someone. You looked down to see a small girl in a large white nightgown frowning at you. 

"Who are you?" She said groggily as she wiped at her blue eyes. 

"Oh!" You stepped aside. "I'm sorry. I'm (Y/N), your um, uncle Finn's friend."

"I'm Katie," she said slowly, eyeing you closely. "Didn't know daddy had comp'ny."

"We're all in the kitchen," you offered as your hands started to fidget. "Did you need the bathroom? Or your dad?"

"I just wanted water," she said as she pointed to the bathroom. "I can get it myself."

"Right," you said as you stepped around her. "Well it was nice to meet you, Katie, I'll get back to the rest now. Sleep well."

"Goodnight Miss (Y/N)," you heard Katie's small voice say behind you as you walked away. 

"Goodnight," you said over your shoulder as you disappeared back to the kitchen. 

You had known there were kids there, but it didn't occur to you that you could be bothering their sleep. Guilt washed over you as you returned to the kitchen where the noise was a booming roar. 

"I want to go home," you crossed your arms as you reached the table. "It's nearly morning and I'd like to sleep. Some of us have work during daylight hours."

"So go," Michael said from behind his cards. "I'll make sure your friend gets home."

"You lot want me to walk home, in the dark, by myself?" You growled. 

You looked to each one, your friend hiding her face in the crook of a smirking Michael's arm. Finn and Isaiah both were scratching their heads, staring hard at their cards. For once, the kitchen was silent.

"Fine," you gritted through your teeth. "Some friends you are."

"Oh don't be like that, love," Isaiah said as he grabbed for your wrist. "We're not ready to end the night, that's all. Tell you what, you go snooze on the couch and when we're done I'll come walk you home."

"How generous," you snapped as you twisted your wrist from his grip. "I'll take my chances on the streets. A few hours in my bed before work sounds better than a couch next to a party of loud idiots."

You heard them call to you as you stormed out and slammed the door, but you didn't stop until you were a few steps from the garden gate. The iron gate had been carelessly left open against the short stone walls. You looked at the ivy creeping along the stones as you took a breath and hugged yourself, realizing you had left your coat inside. Your breath formed a cloud in front of you but you frowned when you realized a different cloud was coming from the other side of the stone. 

"Do you normally smoke outside of your garden in the wee hours of the morning?" You scowled as you rounded the corner to see John leaning against the wall, one arm wrapped around a propped leg as his hand pulled a cigar from his lips as the other leg lay flat against the ground.

John blew the smoke under the crook of his arm before looking back up at you with his boyish smile. 

"Well hello again, beautiful," John eased. "Why, hoping to catch me alone?"

You felt the rush of heat to your face as you looked down and bit your lip for a moment, trying to compose yourself. You finally looked back to him, tapping his foot with your boot. 

"No, I was just heading home," you said. "You're avoiding the question, though."

"Maybe I was," he said, sitting up straighter and tapping the ground beside him until you sat. "I figured a house full of kids would alert me if my children decided to come join them. Decided to take the free alarm system for what it was and enjoy a few quiet minutes to myself."

"I shouldn't bother you, then," you said, moving to get back up. 

John's arm wrapped around you, rubbing the goosebumps on your shoulder as he pulled the smoke into his mouth. 

"I can be myself with you here," he murmured around the cigar. "I'm not the only one that craves quiet."

You started to protest but instead settled under his arm. You watched as the cherry burned bright, illuminated his face in the dark before he pulled the cigar away and let the smoke roll from his mouth, always careful to blow it away from you. You hesitantly reached for the cigar as John went to bring it back up to his lips. He let you take it. You brought the damp end to your lips and puffed lightly. 

"Don't breathe in too hard, pet," he chuckled. "It's not a cigarette. You just roll the smoke in your mouth rather than inhale."

You smiled as you handed it back to him before you exhaled. 

"I know," you said with the last of the smoke. "Pa used to smoke cigars. He said he only had one on good days, which usually meant a holiday. Pretty sure that's the same kind. I'd know that smell anywhere."

"Your Pa has good taste," John said. "Should have known that by one look at you."

You faltered, unsure what to say to him. You weren't used to the compliments, especially when they weren't paired with a hand grabbing at your skirts. John sounded genuine and it confused you rather than flattered you.

John cleared his throat as he looked around the wall to look back at his door. 

"Where's my idiot brother or Isaiah with your coat to walk you home?" John turned back to you as the shadows danced across his face to enhance his knotted brows. "I figured one of them would have been out by now."

"No one's coming for me," you stammered as you moved to stand up. "I forgot my coat when I stormed out."

"You're not walking home alone," John scoffed as he stood with you. "I'll take you if the idiots inside won't."

"You really don't have to," you said shyly. "I wouldn't trust them in your house by themselves, honestly."

You both chuckled. 

"Yeah?" John laughed as he put the cigar out on the wall and laid it on the stone. "Probably shouldn't. Finn would just as easily set the place on fire boiling a pot of water."

"I'm taking you home," John said, more serious this time. "I'll go get your coat."

"No," you said quickly as you grabbed his hand before he could step away. "I just…" you let go of his hand as he turned back to you, "I'd rather not have you go after my coat like I tattled. I'm sure they'll pick it up when they leave. I'll grab it from them later."

John sighed, annoyance rattling through his teeth. 

"Fine," he said, "but we're taking the car if you have no coat."

"You really don't have to--"

"I do and I am," John said firmly as he took your elbow to lead you around the corner to the garage. 

He opened the passenger door for you and you silently slipped inside, rubbing your arm to rid yourself from the goosebumps as he climbed inside the driver's side. 

"Thank you," you said quietly as he started the car and made his way down the street. 

"You're not a bother, you know?" John chuckled, eyes on the road. "You're so damn polite and you ask for so little, yet you're so surprised if you get it. Just relax. I'm not sure what you're expecting but it ain't me."

You shuffled in your seat, shoving your hands between your legs to warm your fingertips. John frowned over at you, taking your hand in his. 

"You're right frozen, aren't you?" He said as he pulled your fingers to his mouth and exhaled warm air on them, leaving a different kind of goosebumps to cover your skin. "Here, hold on."

He slowed the car to a crawl and let you go, wiggling himself out of his coat to hand you the warm wool. 

"Oh, I--"

"Just take the damn thing and warm up, yeah?" He said. "How are you this stubborn for help? I've already told you I'm not out to stop you."

"What are you out for?" You said, surprise caught in your throat. You hadn't expected to be able to actually say it. John sighed, tired rather than annoyed.

"I've seen you, (Y/N)," he said, glancing at you as you put on his coat before looking back at the road. "You used to enjoy all this. The tokyo. The alcohol. The long nights. You spun in circles like a top. Now you still spin, but the smile is fake. You've put on a mask."

You froze, your head swimming with thoughts. He noticed? He cared?

"So?"

"So I want to know why," John exhaled. "I want to know you. We aren't that different."

"We aren't?"

"No."

The rest of the ride was silent. John puttered the car down city streets until he reached your flat. You never asked how he knew where it was. 

Peaky business, you thought. They know everything.

When he stopped at your curb, you moved to get out of his coat but he waved you off.

"Keep it for the night," John smiled. "I'll trade you for yours another day."

"Thank you, John," you said softly before you turned and got out of the car. 

You were halfway up your steps before you heard a car door open and steps thudding toward you. You stopped and turned around to meet John eye to eye. 

He had pulled a toothpick out and started biting on it as he smiled at you. You waited in silence as he bounced on the balls of his feet. 

"Um," John said as he looked to his feet and back up at you. "Can I take you somewhere?"

"Where?" You cocked your head, amused by his sudden shyness.

"Well it's a surprise but," he sucked in his cheek, "you said you're working tomorrow, yeah? When's your next day off? We can make a day of it. Or an afternoon, if you'd rather."

"I guess I'm off Saturday," you said slowly. "But I'm usually selling nights on weekends."

"Don't worry about that," John said. "The boys give you trouble, tell 'em I got another job for you. It'll keep 'em off your back. You hate it, I'll bring you home and you can go sell or anything you want. Take a night in, even."

"We can leave anytime I want?" You ask skeptically, watching John's easy smile as he lifted his hands up. 

"Blinder's honor."

Masterlist

[schweiggiemydear]

Regarding the Super League - A Rant

Ok, since the League was more or less officially announced today, I want to talk about it. If you haven't heard about it, you can read the Sky Sports article explaining it here.

I want to add a disclaimer that since I am an Arsenal and Real Madrid fan, my views are biased since both teams have been selected for the league.

However, there are a few things I want to address as a general football fan that are not affected by my club loyalty. I'll include a section at the bottom of this post on my opinion on the new league just because. Editing to add another disclaimer that I do NOT support the Super League. I am just discussing the issues I have seen brought up about it.

Fan Response

A lot of football fans have taken to social media to voice their opposition to the league. Maybe I haven't looked hard enough, but I haven't actually seen any reason for this hatred towards the new league other than "It will ruin football" and "It's just another way for the clubs to make more money." Again, maybe I just haven't seen it, but these two "reasons" aren't really explained at all:

"It will ruin football": It's another competition that only the "elite" and "best" clubs of Europe will be a part of. This is basically the Champions and Europa leagues already. These two competitions will not be eliminated and you can still see underdogs play European football.

Is the concern here that this elevates top clubs at the expense of smaller clubs? (like Champions League already does?) Is the concern here that mechanisms for fair competition will be dropped for the sake of greed? (like Champions league already does?) (Like FIFA does every time they make a decision?) Is the concern here that it undermines the concept of competition and the idea that any team can win a trophy in Europe? This is the only valid criticism I can understand and support, but when was the last time a big club didn't win the Champions league? When was the last time a small club Leicester or Roma held the trophy? If you can count Olympique de Marseille as a "small club", then the answer is 1993.

"It's just another way for the clubs to make more money.": I hate to break it to you folks, but football is a business. (I have a lot of opinions on this - mainly regarding women's v. men's football and equal pay - but that is not the point of this post.) Clubs are always looking for ways to make more money and this pandemic has killed revenue for every club, even top league clubs, and they are looking for new and more steady sources of revenue.

Is the concern that without a ruling body like FIFA, the money for the competition will not be handled fairly? Is the concern that fans will have limited access to matches? If you take even a cursory glance at what FIFA/UEFA done regarding finance, transparency, match fixing, and fan access, you would know this isn't a valid criticism. Well, it is valid. But only if you also regularly call out FIFA, UEFA, Premier League/FA, Bundesliga, La Liga, League 1, Serie A, etc., for these same infractions. Which people don't.

Now if the criticisms were closer to "I think this brings unnecessary competition to top clubs already vying for European trophies", "This competition will make these clubs think they're better than everyone else", or "This puts a strain on players in these clubs who already play for club and country", I'd understand the concerns and would absolutely agree. But right now, the actual fan backlash seems more guided by a general misunderstanding on how football really works. Which leads to the next issue I want need to address.

FIFA/UEFA Response

Now here's where things get interesting because the backlash from FIFA and UEFA has been swift and aggressive to say the least. They are refusing to allow players who play in the Super League to be eligible for the 2022 World Cup and will likely impose fines or even ban clubs from the leagues that do participate. The Premier League/FA and the other major European leagues have issued a joint statement condemning the league. The statement mentions solidarity, a united front, fair competition, and sporting merit and claims that this new league is greedy and self-serving.

Ironic words come from institutions that are all well-known for their own corruption. Absolutely banger response from institutions that milk fans, players, and leagues every year. In fact, people on twitter made really great points and I'm going to provide the tweets here because they said it better than I could:

(including the last one because of Slavia Prague specifically)

We all know the main reason FIFA and UEFA are against the Super League is because they wouldn't get a cut of the revenue. I don't have any money to bet, but know that if I did, I would bet it all that if the Super League offered FIFA and UEFA each a significant cut of the continued revenue, they would get the green light immediately and that trophy would be physically bigger than the Champions League cup.

I just cannot get over the irony, hypocrisy, lack of awareness, and just BALLS of these organisations to make claims of greed and lack of fair play when they are guilty of these exact things. I think Toni Kroos said it best:

"European Super League? We are just puppets of FIFA and UEFA. If there was a players' union, we would not be playing the Nations League or Supercopa de Espana in Saudi Arabia." (Kroos in a podcast on 11/11/2020)

My Humble Opinion

Now here's what I think. And again, my teams would be involved in this Super League so I do have a stake in the game here.

Firstly, I absolutely agree the Super League is elitist in nature and affects the fair play nature of European football competitions and domestic leagues. No doubt that smaller clubs would be financially hurt by this new league and it puts these "top teams" on a pedestal, especially when the last thing they need is an even more inflated ego (Arsenal included). Every club has been hurt by this pandemic and needs funds. Every club has been hurt by FIFA's practices and there's a good chance this will really mess with smaller teams' chances of earning revenue themselves.

Second, FIFA and UEFA can go fuck themselves.

Third, FIFA plans to ban players and clubs who participate in this Super League and to that I say good fucking luck with that because those clubs are your biggest earners. Absolutely no hate or shade to the Bundesliga or League 1, but they just don't bring in the same revenue as Barca, Real Madrid, or Premier League teams. Bayern Munich did recently overtake Man United as the 3rd richest club in Europe, but they are still vastly out-earned by RM and Barca. PSG is #7 (after 3 english teams) and Juventus is #10 (after 5 english teams) (source). The revenue FIFA and UEFA would lose from banning Super League teams would be astronomical. Not just in the domestic leagues themselves, but the Champions League, Europa League, and the World Cup. I mean, what's a World Cup without Messi? (personally, I'm okay with that but you get my point)

Fourth, and hear me out, I genuinely believe that the Super League is a good TEMPORARY idea. The Super League should be used as an experiment to see how competitions would function outside the influence of FIFA and other regulatory agencies. This would be a League run by clubs and players and is a better representation on how football SHOULD be organised. If these clubs take a stand against FIFA, maybe, just maybe, we can get rid of some of the corruption inherent in football. Don't get me wrong, the Super League is definitely meant to be revenue generating for sure. But it's also a middle finger to FIFA and, if its done well, the rest of Europe might take a harder look at how much they don't actually need FIFA. Do I think this is the right way of doing it? No. But has it clearly stirred things up and now people are talking about the issues? Yes.

Lastly, I want to talk about Kroos' comment above. A players union is a brilliant idea and I think the European Super League is actually a great way for players to argue for it. They can use the leverage of the new league to bargain for better rights and a union that actually tells FIFA to go fuck itself when it decides things like revenue gouging Brazil in 2014 or a Qatar World Cup. Or the many hundred other shitty things FIFA has done. For a full list, please see John Oliver's amazing coverage of FIFA in his series "Last Week Tonight" (found on YouTube or HBOMax).

If you made it to the bottom of this post/rant, thank you! Let me know what you think about this Super League and what would you do if you were one of the teams involved?

[bourbonbees]

Suptober Day 6- Cemetery Boys

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34336042

Rating- G Jack POV

Jack has discovered there are a great deal of things that he loves about being human, he loves eating cake, taking his dog for walks, and swimming, but there��s nothing he loves more than his family. His family is not conventional, he’s got three dads, one of which is an angel, but all of them love him unconditionally. It’s rocky at first with Dean but after some quality time spent listening to Zep and going fishing together, the grumpy hunter warms up to him. It also doesn’t hurt that Jack’s first dad, Castiel, is also Dean’s partner and therefore holds a lot of sway over him, whether he likes it or not. Sam, his third dad was the best! He’s the one that establishes family movie night, Jack’s favorite night of the week!

Sam lets Jack pick the movies pretty much every week, much to Dean’s dismay. This week Jack chooses Ghostbusters as his pick. It’s great, he especially loves the jokes and the Stay Puffed Marshmallow man. He isn’t sure where the writers did their research for the movie though, his experiences with ghosts contain a lot less whimsy and a lot more salting and burning. The movie is just wrapping up when it hits him, they don’t have a name, every great team of heroes has a name.

“Hey, why don’t we have a name?” Jack poses the question, looking to Dean for a response.

“Kid, how much candy have you had? Are you sugar crashing? Remember, me Dean, you Jack, that annoying guy over there, Sam, this adorable ray of sunshine, Castiel.” Dean is concerned, he feels Jack’s forehead and looks him over, his parental instincts kicking in.

“No like a team name! Like there’s The Avengers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, uh The Fellowship of the Ring.” Jack lists off, Sam sending him a proud smile at the last one.

“Jack, hunters don’t really do teams. We’re kinda solitary, it’s our nature.” Sam explains, causing Jack even further confusion as he looks around at his family. They do everything together, live together, celebrate wins together, spend holidays together, work together, is that not a team?

“We’re not a team? Isn’t a family a team?” Jack frowns, worrying that he’s misread a long series of social cues. He is prone to that sometimes, his brain working a bit differently from his dads, neurodivergent, that’s what Sam had called it.

“Jack, oh, of course we’re a team. But more than that, we’re family.” Cas swoops in, reaching over and patting Jack on the shoulder. Cas is always the gentlest of his dads, he gives really good hugs, and is the one Jack goes to on the days where being a human is too much to deal with.

“Would it make you feel better if we had a team name?” Dean offers, following Cas’ lead. Jack doesn’t miss when Cas sends Dean a small nod of approval. Dean has a different parenting approach, sometimes he’s a bit harder on Jack. Jack doesn’t like that but he understands that Dean is trying.

“Yeah, I was thinking Cemetery Boys!” Jack says right away, looking around the room expectantly. Sam chokes slightly on his beer while Cas smiles approvingly, Dean laughs softly, shaking his head at Jack.

“Well we do spend a disproportionate amount of time in cemeteries, so it makes sense to me.” Jack defends, his cheeks feeling hot, blushing, that’s what Sam had told him it was. Sometimes Jack hates being human, blushing is embarrassing and makes him feel a bit like a baby.

“Shouldn’t we be cemetery men?” Dean questions, raising a quizzical brow at Jack.

“Technically speaking, Jack and myself are neither male nor female. So, no.” Cas supplies, shrugging his shoulders at Dean and earning an eye roll. Jack doesn’t understand why his dads enjoy teasing each other so much, maybe annoying someone was another human way to express love?

“So, you’re telling me, I came out as bisexual for nothing because, I’m not really dating a man?” Dean blanches, gently smacking Cas on the shoulder. Hitting people is another love language Jack has learned, but not too hard, he learned that after accidently punching Sam a little too enthusiastically on the shoulder. Play fighting is good, actual violence is bad, he had explained that to him.

“We’re non-binary! Claire taught me that.” Jack is happy to interrupt, always happy to share the latest things he’d learned. He loves Claire for that reason, she’s always full of new things to learn, she is an excellent big sister. “Claire, Me, Cas, and Dean, we’re all LGBLT? Or is it LGBTQ? Either way, Claire is a lesbian, she also taught me that. And Dean, you’re a bisexual! Cas, you’re gay, I think? So, you didn’t come out for nothing, you came out for your non-binary partner.” Ha! Jack is very proud, this is one area he feels confident he knows more about than Sam, Dean, or even Cas.

“You’re surprisingly well informed for a toddler.” Sam compliments, tipping his beer bottle at him.

“The toddler age range ends at 3, I assure you, Jack is 4. He is no longer a toddler. I read all the development books.” Cas corrects, earning a laugh from Dean and a groan from Sam.

“He did, trust me Sammy, made me read some of them as well. Babies are weird man. Glad you came out fully formed kid, it was a relief.” Dean chuckles. Jack is relieved he came out fully formed too, it’s a lot more fun hanging out with his family when he can talk to them like this.

“I’m a celestial being, age doesn’t exist for me. I am as old or as young as I want to be at any given minute. Isn’t that neat?” Jack prides himself on choosing this form, a teenage body, he likes it because he can help his family. He likes going hunting, driving cars, and helping Dean cook dinner, a baby couldn’t do any of that!

“He really is your son-uh I mean they really are your child?” Dean self corrects, Jack notices he does that a lot more lately, again he really is trying to be better. Jack admires that about Dean, it’s something he tries to emulate as best as he can, always working to be a better person and make his mistakes right.

“Oh, I’m comfortable with he/they, just like my dad! I do feel like a boy most of the time.” Jack looks to Cas who nods along with him. They’d talked about it once, Cas explained that Jack could change a number of things about himself if he wished, if it would better match his soul. But Jack is really and truly happy with who he is. So is Cas.

“Yeah that’s my son.” Cas says fondly, pulling Jack into a hug. This is a good hug, the kind that makes Jack feel safe and cared for. Cas always makes him feel like he belongs, that no matter what he has a place in his arms.

That night, Jack sets a plan into motion. He waits until everyone is asleep and gets to work on creating gifts for his family. He uses his powers to manifest a set of matching black crew neck sweatshirts with the words ‘Cemetery Boys’ embroidered on the front in white thread. He then designs a magnet, putting a little ghost and tombstone on it. Once he’s satisfied he goes through the recycling and finds a box to put the sweatshirts in.

The next part is the most dangerous. Jack, creeps down the hall to the door that leads into the garage attached to the bunker. His eyes glimmer when he finds his target, the black 67 Impala, sitting dead center in the garage. Dean had just waxed her the day before so she was extra shiny. Jack likes when Baby is shiny, it makes the sun reflect on his face, nice and warm. He takes the magnet and carefully places it on the bumper, making sure not to scuff or scratch the shiny metal. Then in a flash, he is back in his room, laying in his bed as if nothing has happened.

Dean doesn’t notice the magnet until they are packing for a hunt the next day, a simple salt and burn case in Wisconsin. The whole family is going! Dean has even promised Jack that he will take him to Wisconsin Dells if it goes well and they will go to a place called Deer Park where he could pet and feed a bunch of deer. Jack likes animals, sometimes more than people, they’re much less complicated.

“Oh my god! My Baby is a whore! You gave her a tramp stamp?” Dean gasps, pointing to the offending ‘Cemetery Boys’ magnet on the bumper.

“You like it? I made it myself!” Jack beams with pride, hoping Dean was speechless because he was blown away by his ability to create magnets.

“Also, the term you’re looking for is sex worker. You need to be more sex positive Dean, especially for someone, who from the sound I hear coming from your room at night, seems to enjoy sex a great deal.” Jack blurts out nervously when Dean doesn’t respond. Jack tends to do that, he wishes he could stop, another part of what makes him different from most people.

“Oh, for the love of Christ. Please Jack, no.” Sam is doing something Claire told Jack is a facepalm, meaning he was either embarrassed or frustrated, perhaps both?

“Do not be ashamed of our healthy sex life, Dean. But do but ashamed of your gendered slurs and generally overdramatic demeanor. The car is unharmed, it’s a magnet.” Cas steps in, doing the teasing thing again. Jack really doesn’t understand his dads, but he’s glad they seem happy together.

“I swear one day Baby and I will drive away and leave you all behind. Traitors.” Dean threatens, this is a joke, Jack measures. Dean does that a lot, uses sarcasm and empty threats, at first they used to confuse and frighten Jack but now he just accepts it’s part of his nature. Dean is grumpy. Loveable but grumpy.

“See your theatrics are quite comical. You couldn’t leave us if you tried. Who would open the pickle jars for you, darling?” Cas smirks, Jack remembers witnessing this scene, Dean saying all the “no words” at a jar of gherkins as he struggled for a good 5 minutes, until his dad took the jar and opened it within two seconds.

“It was one time! And I swear I loosened it!” Dean glowers, clearly ashamed by the great pickle debacle of last week.

“Dads, stop. I will remove the magnet.” Jack decides it’s his job to play peacemaker, he steps up and gently takes the magnet off baby’s bumper, Dean visibly sighs in relief. Jack tries to hide his disappointment, he’d meant the sticker as a gift.

Cas notices his mood shift and is by his side, pulling Jack into a side hug. “Hey, you can put it on my truck.” He offers, rubbing Jack’s back and making him instantly feel better, must be magic dad powers Jack figures.

“Thanks dad, this is why you’re my favorite.” He says without thinking, Sam and Dean giving him matching offended expressions.

“Uh-what about me, I’m the one that sneaks you candy when Cas isn’t looking.” Sam makes a good point, he is exceptionally good at sneaking. He and Jack have so much fun together, that’s how they ended up with Miracle the dog. Sam had helped Jack smuggle him into the bunker and once both Jack and Cas had bonded with the dog, Dean couldn’t kick him out. Though Jack knows that Dean loves the dog just as much, he’s caught him slipping Miracle some of the good bacon when he thinks no one is looking.

“No Dean is the one that gives me candy. You help me pull pranks!” Jack laughs as Dean, flinches, quickly busing himself with packing all their bags in the trunk along with the weapons they’d need.

“Dean!” Cas says in his low, ‘oh no you’re in trouble,’ voice. “We’ve dicussed this, Jack’s intake of high fructose corn syrup is frighteningly high. He needs to eat real food.” He adds. Nougat is a food, Jack thinks privately, nougat might be his favorite food in fact.

“He’s a kid, he’ll be fine. Dean and I lived on that shi-stuff as kids and we turned out alright.” Sam, usually the vegetable police, surprisingly comes to Jack and Dean’s rescue, earning a matching raised brow from them both.

“Did you though?” Cas challenges, hand on his hip, sometimes dad gets sassy. Jack likes when dad gets sassy because it’s funny, makes him laugh.

“Well damn, don’t sugar coat it or anything babe.” Dean says in disbelief, opening the passenger door for Cas, Sam climbing into Baby’s backseat before Dean motions for Jack to come sit behind him. “Do I even want to know?” He sighs as he spots the box Jack is carrying.

“Well you’ve all been distracting me, I almost forgot.” Jack pauses as he opens the box and holds up the Sam sized sweatshirt. “I made us all shirts! Team shirts, we’re the Cemetery Boys!” He says proudly, shoving the shirt at Sam, then two at Cas, one for him and one for Dean. Jack pulls on his own shirt right away, stretching his arms and modeling it for them all.

“Can you all wear them for me?” Jack pulls out his trump card for this one, using the ‘look’ that Sam had taught him. He made his eyes big and kept them open just long enough so they were watering slightly, then bit his lip.

“I really screwed myself when I taught you my secrets. Really, using my own puppy eyes on me. Really short sighted of me to teach you that.” Sam sighs as he pulls on the sweatshirt, Cas doing the same.

“Nope, still not doing it. I don’t do matching shirts.” Dean holds firm, shaking his head at Cas when he holds out the sweatshirt to him as they pull out of the garage.

“Dean, the couch in the library is awfully uncomfortable. It’d be a shame if you had to sleep there.” Cas is firmly on team Cemetery Boys, pulling out the big threats to get Jack his way.

“Ugh fine, but no one can ever find out about this!” Dean groans, waiting until he’s at a stop sign at the end of the road to pull it on. Jack lights up, his team is complete, all three dads are wearing his shirt!

“It’s funny how easily emasculated you are Dean. Life is a lot more fun when you stop caring about gender expectations.” Cas smirks, Dean rolling his eyes at Cas and mimicking his know it all expression.

“Dean is sensitive, dad, and he’s really good at making pies! I think he cares less than you think he does.” Jack pauses, pleased when Dean makes eye contact with him in the rearview mirror and smiles. “Besides, I saw the pink underwear he hides when I helped with that laundry that one time.” He adds, Dean’s smile quickly disappearing, his eyes wide as he tightly gripped the steering wheel.

“Jesus Christ, kid, stop selling out all my secrets.” Dean grits between his teeth, now he is blushing. Jack knows Dean hates blushing just as much as he does.

“Oh that’s good! Can’t wait to tell Claire that one!” Sam barks out a laugh, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“You wouldn’t!” Dean hangs his head in shame when they stop for a train.

“Already did!” Sam sing songs, holding up his phone. Jack is sometimes thankful that Claire doesn’t live with them, living with your sibling seems exhausting sometimes, if Sam and Dean are any indication.

“Alright that’s enough Jack, don’t spill all the coffee. Your dad is allowed to have his secrets.” Cas intervenes, gently patting Dean’s thigh.

“Tea, dad, its spill the tea!” Jack sometimes can’t handle how out of touch his dad is. Guess that’s what happens when you’re millions of years old.

“Oh right, what’s the difference?” Cas sighs, laying his head back against the headrest as if he’s exhausted, Jack knows it’s just for dramatic effect because Cas doesn’t sleep.

“Cas, there’s big difference! One is the nectar of the gods and the other is glorified leaf water.” Dean defends, holding Cas’ hand, it’s meant to be a private gesture, but Jack can see it and it makes his heart happy.

“Tea is good.” Sam tries.

“I rest my case.” Dean counterpoints.

The case is a rough one, it turns out to be a bit more than a simple salt and burn. The ghost, a family annihilator was coming from beyond the grave to try to kill his son who had survived his attack. They had split into two groups, Dean and Cas at the cemetery burning the bones and Jack and Sam with the victim, trying to keep him safe.

“Do you think maybe we can take a photo together in our shirts?” Jack asks offhandedly as he and Sam roam the house looking for any objects that might still tether the ghost to the house.

“Why do you care so much about these shirts and taking a photo together?” Sam asks curiously, making Jack pause to think for a moment.

“Because, I’ve been watching a bunch of shows and movies, and all the families in them, they have all these photos together. They make all these memories together and they display them in their houses for everyone to see. I want that. The fact that we don’t have that makes me kind of scared, like this isn’t real. Like you all are prepared to run at a moment’s notice if I go nuclear.” Jack explains, using air quotes around the word nuclear.

“Oh. Oh. Jack, hey, it’s not like that. I guess, well we’ve been so busy saving people and hunting things, we’ve lost track of normal family things. You’re family Jack. Promise.” Sam says right away, pulling Jack into a crushing hug. Sam is strong, Jack hopes to be that strong someday.

“Can we take a photo then, a family portrait?” Jack asks hopefully.

“Family portrait? Family portrait. Shit! Jack, the family portrait!” Sam gasps, letting Jack go and looking around the room with wild eyes.

“Huh?” Jack is trying to catch up before he spots the family portrait hanging above the fireplace, both the victim and his evil departed dad in the photo. He rushes to grab it off the wall and tosses it into the fireplace. Sam pulls out a container of salt and lighter fluid, coating the portrait, then Jack tosses a match, lighting it on fire.

“Good work kid.” Sam grins as the ghost appears and then bursts into flames. “I think you’ve earned that portrait.”

True to his word, the first thing in the morning, Sam helps Jack use the laptop to find the closest portrait studio. It happens to be a JC Penney portrait studio, making Dean groan and complain about cheesy backgrounds and awkward poses that they’d likely endure. With much coaxing and further threats from Cas to relegate Dean to sleeping with Miracle on the dog bed, he agrees to the photoshoot.

Jack gets several copies of the photos made. He hands out wallet sized copies to Mary and Eileen who both coo over how adorable they look. Cas gets it framed and hangs it in the library, Dean never admits he likes it, but Jack catches him stopping to look at it every day, a proud smile on his face.

This is Jack’s family. His team. His Cemetery Boys.

[moonlights-inkwell]

Why Don’t You Just Tell Them All to Fuck Off Love, And Be Mine

Jaskier x Reader  

Word Count: 5,670

Summary: You and Jaskier partake in a game of pretend, with some unexpected consequences.  

AN: The sequel to Oh Can’t You Hear The Scratching that no one asked for. Oops.  

Warnings: Smut. Oral (female receiving). Dirty Talk. Feelings.  

“You know,” Jaskier says lightly, cutting through the silence of the empty tavern, making you look up to meet his eyes. “You wore that dress the first night I met you.”  

You had almost forgotten Jaskier was still in the tavern. He was being strangely quiet before speaking up, so quiet you could have sworn he had gone home when the drinkers had, yet there he is. Sat there, still holding his Lute on his knee and watching you like a hawk. He’s taken to performing on nights when you work. Locals love him, bards seldom come through your village, and those who do don’t stay for long, so Jaskier's songs have been well received, even if your employer has been shooting your lover death glares every night he has performed. You don’t know if he recalls that it was Jaskier that swept you out of your life in the village so long ago, or if he’s just jealous of how you allow Jaskier affection so freely, but the older man scowls and jabs and jibes, and with him going through the coins earned tonight upstairs, there has been silence. Just you and the rag and a silent Jaskier. 

It’s true though, you did wear this dress the first night you met him. It’s a white and wine-coloured affair, pretty enough to flatter your frame but easy enough to move in during your hours working. It’s nice, flares out when you turn too quickly and dips to a respectable if a little coquettish square neckline that makes your chest more obvious. The dress is usually enough to encourage men to be more generous with their coin without hearing any comments about your being some sort of whore, and your hands leave the rag you had been using to clean to smooth the fabric about your hips. You hadn’t paid that much mind when you tugged it on this morning, but under his watchful eyes right now, you flush as though it had been deliberate. Clothing has never been something you pay much mind to but, with how Jaskier is eyeing you, you can tell that he has paid attention to it, and you realise something you hadn’t noticed earlier. He too is wearing the exact same thing he wore the night the two of you met, deep violet and sky-blue doublet and trousers, pretty and attention grabbing- but somewhat toned down compared to his usual garb.

“it was clean.” You say shyly, tucking a few stray curls behind your ear to hear him chuckle quietly.  

“It’s beautiful. You're beautiful.” Jaskier says things like that as if they’re obvious, unintentionally making you feel foolish for any insecurity. A pathetic laugh comes from you and he tilts his head like a pup, the island of the bar between the two of you makes you feel safe; he'd never hurt you, that much you can stand your life on, but the distance between you keeps you from doing something foolish. Like kissing him.  

He’s been distant since the first night he returned to you, never letting his touch linger longer than would be considered chaste, his kisses never turning passionate, never finding his usual respite between your thighs as he once did. He sleeps beside you, presses kisses to the space beneath the corner of your lips, still sings and leans into you but doesn’t... touch as he once did. It’s as though you've fallen into some sort of time warp to before the first time you were intimate, when he was so concerned about making you uncomfortable that progressing seldom seemed like an option at all. You have no clue how to fix this rift that has developed, unsure if this distance is simply because of the time you spent apart or because he’s no longer interested in you as you’re interested in him.

“It’s just a dress.”  

“It’s a dress that makes you look beautiful, Little Miss.” The bard insists, settling his Lute down on the newly cleaned surface of the table before walking around it to approach you. Be it nerves or something more embarrassing than that, you turn from him to continue your cleaning. “...The moment I saw you wearing it, I knew I’d laid my eyes on the most divine creature the lands have ever known.”  

“The moment you saw me you had a woman hanging off each arm.” You retort. It’s intended to be playful, but comes out colder than expected, and you cringe at the sound of your own voice. Petty. Absolutely fucking petty, because you know as well as him that once you smiled his way and brushed past him to serve drinks to a group of patrons his lady-friends were gone, and Jaskier had sat at the bar and spent the night talking to you as if you were the only person in the world. You aren’t jealous, truly you aren't, the person your Dandelion had been before you had even known him has never been your concern, and now you sound like an envious adolescent. It’s enough to make your flesh crawl with shame. Were you paying more attention to anything but your own words you might have heard Jaskier say your name firmly, but no, you remain in your own head until your stomach is pressed gently against the counter, kept in place by his warm, firm body behind you. “Jask?” Stupid question. Who else would it be?  

“I thought you were the most beautiful woman I could ever lay eyes on.” He breathes into your ear, sending shivers down your back. “A muse, a godsend, beautiful and intoxicating and...” His voice trails away to nothing at all while his hands rest on your hips. “Gods above and below, Missy. The sight of you alone had me willing to spend a whole night ignoring everyone else, content to spend my night obsessed with the Beauty before me and fisting at my cock until i slept to the thought of you rather than try to find someone else to spend my night with.” His voice is little more than a growl, and breathing is growing harder with every honeyed word that drips from his lips. “You, beautiful you, who didn’t care about my songs or my reputation- just so kind and perfect and fucking beautiful.” Cold hands slide upward from your hips to rest in the dips of your waist. “So perfect I asked you to come with me. So perfect I feared telling you how I felt. Skilled with a sword and with your tongue and so much better than I will ever deserve.”  

“Julian.” You start, but no other words will follow his real name. You could worry that he's going to do something foolish, or give in and push his hands up to your breasts, but instead you simply sigh and relax into his touch. His lips press to the expanse of your throat and you feel him smile against your skin.  

“Even before I asked you to be mine, I wanted you. Needed you. Came with my fist in my mouth to the thought of you so I wouldn’t wake you. So, do not question when I tell you how I feel about you.” His growl is enough to send a rush of heat to your cunt with each word, and a painful sort of warmth to your heart. “Even without being with you, my heart has been yours since the moment I met you.”  

Logical thought dies an honourless death at the suggestion of Jaskier's want for you. Weeks of nothing at all and he decides that he ought to break that run by informing you that the first night he had even met you he had worked himself to climax to the thought of you. That the thought of you alone was enough to have him spilling onto his hand even before he had so much as kissed you. You swear you could choke at the thought, but there’s something more you want to choke on. Still, he pulls back from you, the world is off kilter and you swear you’re going to fall to your knees until you turn about to press your back to the counter, it takes less than a second for him to all but throw himself onto you- mouth over yours, tongue dipping into your mouth as though he's some adventurer trying to map out uncharted land.  

Eyes shut, his mouth on yours, you feel the tavern around you fall away, the wind gusting through your hair and along your décolletage. There is no tavern, no employer, no cleaning, no childhood home that will almost definitely be cold as death by the time you get home. None of that exists, none of it matters at all. All that exists is his mouth, his tongue, how he manages to somehow be everywhere and nowhere at once, intoxicating and intangible. You could be anywhere, everywhere, with your eyes clamped shut as they are. With no effort at all, you could imagine yourself anywhere, the hidden spot behind a curtain while a ball happens less than a foot away from you, the sandy alcove of some far-off beach, but the place your mind settles on is somewhere you don’t know at all, making you fill in the gaps to create something out of your own memories. Oak coloured, and warm, furnished all with deeply coloured leather, books and instruments, like Oxenfurt, but cast half in shadows by flickering lights and scented like smoke and molasses, like Yen's home. In spite of all of that, or maybe because, it feels like home: especially when Jaskier's lips dip down from your lips to the corner of your mouth once more to kiss at the space he calls Your Kiss.  

Lettenhove, your mind supplies the name for the place it has created, faster than you can remember where you know it from. Jaskier's home.  

He’s mentioned it to you once, maybe twice, in all the years you’ve known him, only ever to complain and insist how he hated it and would never return, but here you are, creating it in your mind. It seems only right, that he has kissed you in your childhood home that you can at least imagine his. It feels wrong though, even if the thought remains, like a sick secret.  

“Darling?” He asks softly, drawing your attention back to him.  

“Yes?” You ask gently while his fingers trace circles into your waist.  

“You look sad, Dear Heart. I know I’ve been distant but please tell me that look is not disappointment as I assume.”  

“No, no. Just thinking.”  

“A dangerous past-time.” Jaskier says solemnly with a shake of his head which you ignore.  

“Why have you been so distant of late?”  

“I. I've had a deal to think about since. Well, since.”  

“Since the mountain.” You finish the sentence for him. He nods and you nod in return. He hasn’t told you what happened, except that Geralt and himself had parted ways on less than amicable terms. Why that has meant the two of you haven’t been intimate is beyond you though, and you feel awkward to ask such a question.  

“I didn’t want to do anything while my mind was not entirely focused on you, My Muse.” He admits, tracing fingers across the details of your face. “I spent months without you, trying to remember just how your skin turns pink as you climax, the delicate arch of your back, the contortion of your lips. Months of cumming to a memory, and months of cumming to fantasies of you before I had you. I wanted the real thing, and to appreciate it. And that meant not being distracted.”

“I could have put my mouth on you. That always relaxed you.”  

“A sweet offer, truly. Probably would have taken you up on it too.” He admits, “But I want to pay attention to you.” Traitors that the mind and mouth are, you can’t find a single word to say, but your lips turn up in a subtle smirk and you pull away from him, slipping from his grasp.  

“Darling-" he argues at your sudden movement, but you press your fingers to his lips with a soft shushing sound.  

“Play a game with me a while, Dandy?” You ask intently, which catches him off guard, his hand wrapping around your wrist. Pet names are his forte, wordplay his bread and butter, so it doesn’t take a hair out of you when he calls you by one, but you use them fairly infrequently and they always have him blinking like a startled doe.  

“Name the game.”  

“First impressions.”  

“Can’t pretend I know that one, Dear Heart. If it’s anything like Gwent I can’t see my being any good either.” He chuckles and you pull back from him with a laugh of your own.  

“Not like Gwent. More of a playing pretend sort of game.” You clarify, though saying it makes you feel childish. “We... we pretend this is the first time we have met.” He smiles at that, head tilting to the side.  

“A pretend game.” He repeats, smile growing as he mulls over the idea. “I like it.”  

“I’m glad.”  

“Are there any rules to this game?” He asks and you blink. Rules had not even entered your mind, but he was right. A game should have rules.  

“...We can’t acknowledge anything we’ve been through.” You say easily and he nods. “And we can do whatever we wish we could have done when we first met.”  

“Sounds good to me. But one thing before we start?” He asks gently, leaning in and loosening your hair and pressing a kiss to the crook of your neck. “Perfect. Now I can pretend not to have known you.”

“I... think we ought wait for Kacper to leave for the night.” You whisper meekly, and though Jaskier lets out a pained little groan he nods slowly, pulling your hand to his lips to kiss the heel of your palm.  

“Fine. Can’t have that vile little man watching as I have my way with you.” That makes you choke, staring at him, wide eyed and gaping like a fish out of water while he smiles down at you like he’s simply commented on the weather.

“You. You say that like I would have let you- “ You falter and snap out a quiet, “That vile little man is the reason we can afford food and clothes!”  

“Little Miss, please.” He interrupts you flippantly before bringing his lips down on your own once more, albeit only for a second or so. “I have eyes. I’ve seen how the bastard looks at you. I’ve seen how every bastard looks at you.” You dont know what he means. Kacper, yes, the man is uncomfortable and not someone you want to spend any time about, but everyone? He’s a fool, and a paranoid one ay that.  

“Be that as it may!” You say, hoping he doesn’t realise that you’ve essentially agreed with him. “You’re acting as ifi would have let you bed me having known me less than a night.”  

“We'll be playing at having just met, not completely forgetting everything. And besides, you said we could do anything we wished we had when we first met, no?”  

“I. I did.”  

“And, from the moment I met you, I’ve wanted to taste you. And I have every intention of creating a first meeting between us where I was not such a coward as to not even attempt it.”  

“I never thought you a coward, Jaskier.” You argue but he shakes his head.  

“I know that, Dear Heart, and I wouldn’t change our time together. But it’s just a game of pretend.”  

“Just a game of pretend.” You agree.  

...

“I’ll be off now, Missy.” Kacper says tiredly, holding onto the door for purchase. “No bard?”

“He's home and asleep by now.”

“You should go home yourself. I can walk you if you-"  

“No, no. I'll finish cleaning, it oughtn't take too long. Go rest.” You reply easily, pushing the hair that’s escaped your bun away from your eyes. “I'll be fine. I’m a big girl. I can cope.”  

“You can stay in my house if you want to avoid the walk.” He says insistently. Your flesh crawls at his lecherous smile but you fake a smile all the same.  

“I’ll be fine, Kacper. But thank you. Sleep well." The response is sharp and firm, and the older man ducks his head in a suddenly sober nod. “Good Night.”  

“Goodnight Child.”  

Child. The looks he gives you should not be given to a child.

The tavern is empty, and you wipe at the counter in front of you out of boredom until you hear it. The click of the latch lifting followed by the soft squeal that tells you the door is opening. Your eyes stay focused on the wet surface. In this pretence of a night too long ago, you consider pretending to serve drinks to patrons that don't exist, but decide that to be a step too far and instead drop the rag to toy with your hair, leaning against the counter as if watching people that are no longer there.  

Try hard enough, and you can make out the people who had been there that night; the table of drunken older men playing Gwent who had always been especially generous in tipping you in the hopes that you might stay a while and bring luck with a smile, your own friends gathered about a table and shouting old pet names to lure you back to their table with ale, the gaggle of older women cawing and cursing about how wrong it is for a girl of your age to be working in a pub, tempting their husbands and sons. It’s familiar and alien and nostalgic all at once, making your heart ache. It was like that not four hours before, and you hadn’t had any such feelings then, but now that it is empty it feels like watching ghosts lingering at empty tables, phantoms sat in empty chairs.  

“Is it always so busy?” A voice asks from beside you, making you let out a squeak of surprise. You take in the bard as if you’ve ne’er seen him before, and it’s strange. Gods, he’s beautiful, that you already knew, but the way he’s swept his hair to one side has you convinced he’s testing your patience on purpose. He deliberately loosened your hair so you looked closer to how you had, but his hair is swept to the other side entirely. Bastard. You know he’s done it to see if you will immediately try and sort it out. You’re tempted.  

“Oh? It’s early in the morning on Freya's day at a tavern. It’s always busy.” You’re surprised how level your voice is, tinged with sarcasm. “You aren’t from here.”  

“Beautiful and Observant. Are all women in this town like you?” He smirks and leans on his elbow, not realising how wet the counter was until it slides along the surface, making you cackle unexpectedly.  

“Only in that lines like those won’t work on them, stranger.” You struggle out between laughs. “Ale? Wine? Food?”  

“Wine, please.” He grumbles out, pushing himself off of the counter. Any mortal man would be ashamed of having almost knocked out their front teeth on the bar, but not the bard, his lips turn up in a smirk. “And the name of the radiant being in front of me.”  

“Wine it is, Stranger.”  

“Not a stranger. Stranger has some awful implications, Pretty Thing, and a stranger is only a stranger when you know not their name.” A pale, calloused hand is thrust towards you. “Dandelion. Well, Jaskier, famed bard. Surely you've heard of me.” His voice is overcome with confidence, and you can’t help but lean on the driest part of the counter to observe him closely before breathing out your name, which he repeats.  

“That’s my name.” You say simply, leaning back to seek out a bottle of wine and pouring out a glass for the bard in front of him. “And I can’t pretend I know who you are, Bard. But if you’re famed then I presume that you can pay for your drinks.”

His face falls at that, and he begins to ooh and awe, looking through his pockets which you already know to be empty.  

“Now, Angel of the Ale, famed doesn’t necessarily mean rich-"  

“And, Bard, pretty eyes and notoriety doesn’t necessarily mean you'll get a free drink from me.” Your hand covers the brim of the glass and begin to slide it backwards toward you. “This is an establishment, not a charity.”  

“Now, Missy. Let us not be too hasty.” He argues, with a small smile. “surely a song is enough payment for a single glass of wine?” This elicits an unamused sigh from you, and you lift your hand from the cup.  

“Fine, Bard. Have it. But not a word of this to anyone. The owner will have my head if he finds out.”  

“No song, Missy?” He asks and you laugh and shake your head.  

“No, no. I’m. I’m hardly one for a song. You would just be wasting a song.”  

“A shame." Jaskier drawls out, taking a sip of wine before settling you with a smile that is just on the right side of leering. “I like to believe my songs are good enough even for those who don't know much of music. I hear I have a very clever mouth, and a talented tongue."  

He has a bastard of a tongue. The sort that has you flushing without obscene words, and with them? Oh, Melitele's tits you feel like you'll fall apart. The shock written across your face is true, and he chuckles like it’s a funny joke between just you two. It is, you suppose, or would be, were it not for the vile looks that your employer sends your way when he thinks your eyes away from his.

“Excuse me-?”  

“Come, Pretty Thing, play at a role that suits you. Shocked virgin might be believable at your age were you not the most beautiful woman I could ever lay eyes upon.” Jaskier says dismissively, eyes unblinking and following you as you escape from behind the bar. It’s easy to feel like prey under his watchful gaze.  

“Not that my sexual activity is any of your business, but I am.” You respond, shakily; watching as Jaskier saunters to you, holding his chalice in one hand. “A. A virgin, I mean.” You all but whisper the last sentence, and he grins; terrible and beautiful, all teeth and gums, and he reminds you of the wolves that lived in the woods during your childhood. But then he slinks closer still, the comparison between Jaskier and wolves are not quite right. No. Geralt, wherever in the world he is, is a wolf; built to survive hardship. Close enough to resemble a person who could be kept, but far too large and dangerous for that. No. Jaskier is no wolf.  

Jaskier is a fox. Slim and small and ready to rip out your throat. Easily mistaken for a pet, even willing to play at the role, but as soon as you stop eyeing him, he returns to a state that is closer to feral than kept. You feel like a chick, eyed like a feast, waiting for him to just. Strike. And he does, just not in the way you expected- he cups your cheek gently and swipes his thumb across your cheek.  

“Then everyone in this village must be blind, if they aren’t willing to fight to the death to Kiss you, never mind bed you.” His voice is smoke and molasses and you feel like you could drown on dry land.  

“They’ve wanted to.”  

“But you haven’t?”  

“Never met someone who I had any interest in.”  

“Is your... employer here?”  

“N-no.”  

“Then, at the risk of pushing, darling-maid, I’d rather show you what pleasures the flesh can hold.”

“Push. Please.”  

.....

Games of pretend as an adult are much different than they were when you were a child. As a child you toyed at being a princess, a dragon, a knight; now, you’re pretending not to know the love of your life as he buries his face between your thighs, shoved over a table that you cleaned while his clever tongue works it’s way inside of you from behind.  

The wood under you is so, so cold, but his mouth is intoxicatingly warm. Having his mouth on you is nothing new, not at all, but it has you feeling drunk: like having gulped down a tavern's worth of wine, giddy and all appendages tingling. It’s right and comfortable and new all at once. This position especially, face down on a table with him down on his knees before you, the Bard insists on seeing your face- be it so he can kiss you or see the minute changes in your face that tell him that you’re close, but tonight all you can see is the floor and not the mop of brunet locks and wide, blue eyes. The change is fine, welcome, but not enjoyed as much as the alternative.  

He’s made a romantic out of you, you don’t know if you should like or despise that fact. Women in the pub ask often about your musical lover and his talented tongue and fine fingers, asking if the length of them extends to other more personal parts of his anatomy, which you always laugh off. Small villages such as this thrive on gossip and you couldn’t bear it were your intimate goings on to become the talk of the town, but really, you’ve other reasons to be silent on the matter. How do you explain to someone that it’s not about the fingers that crook within you as it is the fact he always knows exactly where to do so? Could you ever find the words to describe that talented though his tongue may be, it’s the fact that you feel him use it to trace the words I love you against your most personal flesh, as he is right now? Can there be a means of saying that large as your lover's cock might be, and that he is well aware how to use it and that he uses it well, your pleasure comes more from the softness in storm-coloured eyes that bore deep into your soul all while that thick length fills you to the point of no return? Never mind a romantic, he's made some poet out of you. You never knew poetry and syphilis were transmitted the same way but you'd rather the former than the latter.

Missing his eyes on you, you whimper and reach back for his hair only to have it pinned to the table beneath you. With a long lick from your clit down to your entrance Jaskier pulls back, only to stare at your sex while panting- the warm air passing along your soaked cunt and making you quake .  

“I was right, Pretty Thing. People should fight to the death to Kiss you. Especially kiss these lips you so cruelly hide.” He sounds as drunk as you feel, words slurring over themselves.  

“Bard. Bard please.” You whine, digging your nails into the table. There's a breathless chuckle behind you, followed by a wet kiss to the meat of your thigh, where leg meets arse.  

“Do you want something, Angel of the Ale?” He chuckles, nipping at the skin.  

“Julian~” You whine loudly and Jaskier lets out a whisper of something that sounds suspiciously like finally, followed by a sharp swat to your cunt, wet slap echoing through the empty air. You'll never be able to work comfortably again, instead you'll be haunted by the memory of Jaskier's most triumphant performance to date: being able to bring you to the brink of orgasm without talking. No compliments, no whispered coos of Little Miss or Dear Heart to encourage you. Just his tongue.  

“So much for your game of pretend, Little Miss.” Jaskier sighs, but there's nothing but amusement in his voice. “I thought we were strangers?”  

“Changed my mind.” You choke out while his fingers spread the lips of your entrance wide open. “If I wanted to fuck a stranger, I would. I want my Buttercup to make love to me.”  

“Make love to you, eh?” Words fan across wet flesh and you could swear you have reached nirvana.  

“I want the love of my life to stop playing silly buggers and fuck me until I sob, yes.”  

He moans at that, weak and wanton as he bucks his hips into your calf, the proof of his want dragged against your skin like a dog rutting. Ever since he called you that in Oxenfurt, it’s been a secret sort of weapon for you. Losing an argument? Tell him he’s the love of your life. See him glaring across the tavern at a man whose eyes have been on you a second too long? Love of your life. It might be cruel were it not true.  

“Gods, Dear Heart, you're a cruel mistress.” You feel him smile as he bucks against you once more, thick and hard under layers of fabric. “Play pretend, Jaskier. Make love to me, Jaskier. You're the love of my life, Jaskier. What next? I simply won’t rest until your cock is in my mouth, Jaskier? You're going to be the death of me.” He smiles, you can feel soft lips as he kisses up from beneath the crease of your arse to the thickest point. “I’m half convinced you’re trying to kill me.”  

“Never.” Comes the earnest reply. “I can hardly spend forever with you if you’re dead.”  

There’s a beat of silence, and you’re half convinced you’ve gone too far but a thought creeps unbidden into your mind to fill the gaps. Something he said in Oxenfurt, which slips from your mouth with honest ease.  

“I'd marry you this second if I could.”  

Eyes slip closed as if waiting for some inevitable fallout, but none comes. Instead, you’re rolled onto your back and tugged up with such an intensity you worry the table might capsize.  

“... A hell of a place to propose, Little Miss.” He returns your own words back to you, eyes soft while his hand comes up to frame your face, fingers ghosting across the scar on your eye. The wound that kept you apart so long. The other rests on the crook of your neck, where if you cast your mind back far enough, you recall a wound being once, from some sort of vampire. He’s held your life inside you with trembling hands more often than you would like to think about, and you reach up to rest a hand over the space on his chemise where you know his heart ought be. It thunders along at a pace too fast for you to know it as you normally would, reminds you of how your own feels after fighting, fucking, but your own heart is beating slowly, pumping along at a relaxed pace under the touch of his fingers.  

“Well. I’m no poet.”  

“No. No, you aren’t.” He agrees. “I. I recall someone else saying that once before too.”  

“Well.” You reply melodiously, fingers straying from the fabric to the thatch of hair across his chest. Downy, dark hair, always keeping you a layer away from him- thick enough to keep you from seeing the flesh beneath but fine enough to feel his warmth seeping through. “He never got about to proposing, so I assumed I could take the line for myself.”  

“Excuse you, Dear Heart!” He sounds scandalized, like some rich old bat who asked for petunias and was gifted peonies by mistake. “I think you will find one of us refused to propose in his old place of education and spent every day afterwards trying to earn coin enough to buy you a proper ring, and as soon as I did you near died- oh. Oh shit. I didn’t mean to say that.”  

“You. You bought me a ring?” You ask incredulously. It doesn’t sound real. Jaskier bought a ring. For you.  

“Of course.”

“You. You, Jaskier, bought me a ring?” You ask again, mind unable to fully understand what it is he's said.  

“I told you I wanted to marry you!” He replies sharply, eyes narrowed a little as if anticipating a fight about it, but all you can do is grin up at him.  

“You want to marry me.”  

“I do.” He confirms, softening from the annoyance as easily as he hardened into it. “Not where I wanted to propose-"  

“Then don’t. Not here.” You insist. “Melitele's tits, I like to think I'm quite free and easy about these sorts of things but I’d rather you not propose in the tavern I work in.”  

“Good. Especially as I don’t have the ring to hand.”  

“As long as you plan on marrying me, I don’t mind when it happens.”  

You mean it too, but he shakes his head, leaning down to kiss you softly on the tip of your nose.  

“You commandeer my proposal, destroy the element of surprise, make me tell you my plans. What am I to do with you?”  

“Keep me forever?” You prompt and he smiles and kisses you gently, hands sliding down to your hips, tugging your skirts up once more to eye your quim. “Jaskier?”  

“I need to get you home right now.” He whispers softly, eyes moving from your sex to your eyes. “So that I can make up for lost time.”  

“...Why not start here?”  

“It’s hardly romantic after admitting I want to marry you.”

“Bath and Bed?” You offer but he chuckles.  

“I think some things may need to go in the middle and the end.”

[spicysoftsweet]

Chapter 13

Masterlist 

cw: nsfw, timeskip

 “Mmm.”

A soft moan of pleasure left Kumi’s lips as she continued to roll her hips slowly, a smile on her face as she leaned forward, letting her palms glide up her partner’s chest. His eyes seemed to glaze over with lust still as he looked upon her breasts, and she giggled.

It truly was nice to be with someone who definitely loved you more than you loved them, she thought fleetingly, then attempted to banish the idea from her own mind.

Perhaps it was an unkind thought. She liked the guy she was currently riding enough; Seiichi was nice to look at with heavy-lidded eyes, shaggy dirty blonde hair and an easy going smile, and he had been attentive and caring to her through these last couple of years as they futzed through medical school together.

At graduation just a couple weeks ago, he’d asked her how she felt about the two of them becoming official and she’d avoided the question, and he’d known better not to bring it up again. Kumi considered that he’d perhaps ask again now, now that she was hovering above him and his hands pressed firmly around her waist and she could feel her stomach coil tighter and tighter the longer they moved together.

He didn’t just like her more, he liked her too much for her comfort, she’d realized.

“Kumi, I-” he began, cheeks flushed, but then she’d cut him off abruptly.

“I’m moving back to Tokyo-” she blurted out, right before she felt herself snap and let out a strangled cry as she climaxed and promptly collapsed onto him. She could barely see his look of distress as he took in this sudden news, his cock softening inside her almost immediately, but she could feel the quickening pace of his heart. 

It was an asshole move.

“You’re what?” He asked.

Kumi shifted her legs as he slipped out of her, then rolled over to the side so that she was staring at the ceiling and not at him.

“I’m leaving this weekend,” she repeated, cheeks still warm as she recovered from her orgasm. The pensive, slightly amused look on her face was unchanging, as though she had simply told him about a funny dream she’d had, and Seiichi, who had thought he was making some progress all these years realized all at once that he’d never even cracked the surface of her frozen heart. The idea of him having wasted his time so thoroughly aggravated him suddenly.

“Were you ever going to fucking say anything?” He hissed. “Or did it just hit you spur of the moment to say something like this?”

She turned towards him, noting his now red-faced and angry expression, and placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it softly. There was something akin to pity in her look, but not love.

“I didn’t think it was important,” she replied simply.

She could have left it at that, and Seiichi may have calmed down and even considered bargaining with her - trips back and forth maybe, a vacation here or there, she just had to tell him that she still wanted him, in some capacity, and it would still be alright.

“You are important to me,” he said and attempted to mirror her action, but frowning, Kumi moved backwards and quickly made her way off the bed, redressing herself.

He watched her with anticipation, anxiety choking the words in his throat as she got ready to leave.

After an unnecessarily silent period of time, she turned to him and smiled widely, something unnatural and painful and flat all at once.

“I’m sorry, I don’t feel the same way.”

---

“Why did you decide to become a doctor?”

Kumi hated this question every single time it was asked. The truest answer was when my middle school boyfriend died in a gang fight in front of me, mostly due to self-inflicted injury that could have been preventable if only I had the skills, but it wasn’t exactly the answer that earned her points with anyone. If anything, it only invited more unnecessary questions.

Instead, she offered something generic like, “I’ve always had a passion to take care of others and found that I was interested in the science of the human body and thus pursued my passion in this way.” It was sufficiently true, she figured, even if it wasn’t as exciting a reason.

The interviewer seemed to be impressed enough with the lackluster response, as she expected. Her grades were excellent, after all, so this interview was somewhat of a formality. The only thing that worried her was whether or not she was ready to move back to Tokyo for residency, and decided after very brief contemplation that she was.

It had been so many years since that event had happened, after all. She couldn’t possibly still be hung up on the past.

People died all the time; years of medical school had taught her this. She could prevent some death but not all.

When she’d received the residency position, she was excited as the program was top rated in the country for emergency medicine training, but then recalled that she likely had no one left in Tokyo. Her parents had long since moved to the United States permanently along with her grandmother who had taken her in charge up until she’d started college, and her brother, many years older, lived on the other end of the country. They weren’t close, even if she had wanted to be.

She had no one left. She’d even briefly wondered if she could bring Seiichi with her, and realized it would be too cruel to use him in this way. Seiichi would remain in their city, pursuing specialization in pediatrics, so his goals and her goals wouldn’t be compatible anyway.

Why Tokyo?

Her mother hated even the idea of moving back there, and she’d had to reassure her repeatedly that more than ten years had passed, so there was no way she’d return to that dark place she’d been in the latter fourteenth and entire fifteenth year of her life.

“Are you sure?” Her mother pressed.

“Yes, mom,” she reassured her. “I won’t even be living on the same side of the city.”

And I’m past it, she thought.

With that, she moved to a small apartment in Tokyo alone on a Saturday morning and started her first day of work as a newly minted doctor that very Monday.

The first day was busy and the emergency department was as busy and as hectic as she should have expected being in a major city, but she survived after putting in her hours, clocking out sometime between 13 to 15 hours after the beginning of her shift, exhausted and with no one to go home to. As she sat on the train, trying not to let her tired eyes glaze over, she downloaded a dating app, swiped left and right on a couple of strange faces then sighed loudly.

It was a dumb idea to meet men if she was going to have no one to call in case of an emergency.

Kumi made it to her new home, hopping into the shower, and changing into soft shorts and a pajama shirt immediately before preparing some instant noodles for dinner. She made a mental note to buy some real groceries sometime this weekend. She then quickly texted a message to her parents to tell them her first day had gone well.

She would be fine.

As she ate her meal in silence, her mind flitted to Kaksi for a moment. She wondered how she was doing. Should she contact her? They hadn’t spoken in over a decade. Did she miss her? Was she even still in this city?

She finished her meal and shook off the thought of digging up past relationships. She wouldn’t want to burrow too deeply and be hurt by what she found.

---

Kaksi rested the ends of her chopsticks on the dark blue and white hashioki in front of her. Then her brown eyes wandered outside, enjoying Tokyo’s skyline through the large glass windows of the private room she shared with her friend. Blue eyes studied her features quietly, while slender fingers brought the white chopsticks to rosy lips.

“Did you not like the food?”

“Oh, I did,” Kaksi replied in a soft voice. “I’m just not very hungry.”

Senju didn’t say anything for a moment. By now she had memorised all of Kaksi’s habits, which made it usually easy for her to pick up on her emotions and thoughts.

“Are you nervous?” she asked before taking a sip of her drink.

Kaksi smiled.

“I guess I am.”

Was this moment shared together their goodbye? As much as Senju preferred not to dwell on the future, she couldn’t ignore the inevitable change that Kazutora’s return would bring into her life. She had made a mistake, growing too comfortable treating Kaksi like she was hers when she was someone else’s all along.

Senju had never met Manjiro Sano despite the similar lifestyle they shared but back when Kaksi would still talk about him, she compared them a lot. Brahman’s leader used to believe she was nothing like him, the idea of ever leaving Kaksi behind unthinkable to her but now she wondered if the reason behind their fall out wasn’t just Mikey trying to spare his own feelings, something Senju failed to do by falling for her best friend.

She had been foolish to think Kaksi would fail to keep her promise. While they had shared more kisses that they could both count and uncovered the secrets to each other’s body in between almost forbidden confessions, Senju still wasn’t the one Kaksi wished to have by her side, or maybe she did. It had felt like she did so many times and it still felt that way as they walked out of the expensive restaurant too close to each other.

Kaksi’s hands were always so cold but Senju liked to warm them up. Tonight however the brunette wouldn’t let her like she had been doing for the past months. Senju was being selfish again, she knew. Kaksi couldn’t say no, not to her, not when she would give her those pleading blue eyes or slide her hand around her waist.

“Sen,” she said, irritated and distancing herself from her best friend.

But this time she had to say no.

“I don’t think I can do it, Kaksi.”

Kazutora would be out of jail in a few days and Kaksi had already planned out a future for them, one that she had desired ever since they had promised to never leave each other’s side back when they were children. It was unfair that she couldn’t preserve what she had built for the past years but if it wasn’t her then who would watch out for Kazutora? There was an obligation Kaksi felt to him, one that she felt like she could never get rid of but this was also what she wanted.

“I don’t think he would be happy in Tokyo,” she told her.

Senju rolled her eyes at her answer. Why was it that Kaksi always had to make her life revolve around him?

“Aren’t you happy in Tokyo?” she asked, voice louder as her irritation grew.

“I need a change of air.”

“Do you need a change of air or do you think Kazutora needs one?” Senju replied. “Because those are two very different things.”

“I think we do.”

Senju stayed quiet for a moment. She wondered if Kaksi could see that what she felt was beyond jealousy. If Kaksi didn’t want to stay by her side that was fine by her, as painful as it was but she wished her best friend would choose herself instead of someone else sometimes.

“You know, you can’t make decisions for others, Kaksi,” Senju reminded her. “You can only make decisions for yourself.”

Kaksi chuckled but it was irritation that she felt.

“This is not how I want things to end between us before I leave for Osaka,” Kaksi told her.

Then you could just stay, at least.

“I don’t think there is any other way for it to end,” Senju admitted, her blue eyes not hiding a sadness she had been containing for too long.

Kaksi fell silent, not sure about what she could say if this was really how they were meant to say goodbye to each other. Senju took a deep breath.

“I hope Kazutora and you enjoy Osaka,” she said with a genuine smile, contrasting with the disappointment and sadness she felt moments before.

But she meant those words. Maybe she was the one who didn’t get it, maybe this was what Kazutora desired and maybe this was something only Kaksi could offer and wanted to offer. There was nothing rational about feelings after all but even after experiencing all of those emotions, Senju couldn’t help thinking only a bit of madness could explain Kaksi’s behaviour sometimes.

If she did get it though. Then there was only one thing she needed Kaksi to remember even though she was choosing Kazutora right now and had planned to always do so.

“But if you don’t then come back to me in Tokyo.”

Kaksi’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of Senju’s smile. She couldn’t smile back but she nodded as she watched her walk away, in a direction she wouldn’t follow this time.

---

“You said you grew up in the city, right?” The girl situated beside Kumi asked, turning slightly in the booth of the bar. The man sitting directly across from her, who from the beginning of the gaokon had seemed to have set his sights on her, perked his ears up.

“I thought you were foreign!” he asked, and she flashed her most charming smile in response despite mild irritation, accepting a drink from her coworker as she spoke.

“Nope, I’ve been here since early childhood. Briefly moved just outside Kyoto in my teen years, but I guess technically Tokyo is my home,” she explained.

The young man before her nodded, leaning just close enough that she began to grow uncomfortable. She couldn’t tell if the man’s interest was related to an expectation that she’d put out more readily than the other women on this date, and just because of that, she was determined not to spend the night with him. Instead, she focused her attention on the girl behind her who was also desperately trying to avoid eye contact with another guy who had latched onto her.

This group blind date was a bust.

Kumi didn’t feel too bad about it, however. She would appreciate anything that allowed her not to think about work. An adolescent boy had come in earlier in the day with a stab wound, and despite the fact that this was not the first time she’d seen injured children or the sequela of gang violence, perhaps the fact that she was back in this city made it such that the event had unearthed some trauma. She found that her hands shook as she stabilized the teen and for a moment, she thought she had even seen a flash of Baji in that young boy and temporarily forgot how to breathe.

That couldn’t happen again.

She should be over it. She had to be.

“Would you like to meet again?” The man whose name she’d long since forgotten - Tadashi? Satoshi? - asked her at the close of the evening, when she’d made it sufficiently clear that she was just interested in going home.

She should have said no, but instead she politely exchanged phone numbers with him, fully intending to block him in three to five days.

But who knew when she’d be lonely again?

---

A week later, Kumi could get over the haunting visage of the young boy who looked everything and nothing like Baji, but she couldn’t get over the sudden talk of gang activity on the news she let play in the background while she reviewed medical publications.

A horrific truck accident, involving a young woman about her age, had taken the news by storm. Listening closer, she heard a name that sounded familiar but not recognizable.

Hinata Tachibana.

It felt like a name she should remember, but she figured they might have interacted before she had relocated for high school, and most of the things and people from before then were essentially blocked out of her memory.

But not the name Toman.

Kumi perked up, sipping onto her tea and folding her legs beneath her as she sat on the couch, finally setting her paper aside, now that the television had caught her interest. There were no real suspects, but the death was thought to be related to this group, as were a series of other random execution-like killings. Kumi took a look at the still image of the young woman’s face, eyes wide, noting that she definitely looked familiar to her, like she’d seen her at least once or twice a long time ago. She couldn’t imagine her having done anything wrong or any act that would anger someone enough to order her death.

Toman doesn’t kill. Toman doesn’t do real crime, she thought.

But times had changed, and maybe they did do real crime now. She wondered briefly if Mitsuya was still part of Toman. What had become of Mikey and Draken, and the rest?

Did Kaksi know what Toman had become over the years?

Kumi unconsciously reached for her phone beside her to call, then caught herself. She hesitated for a moment, letting the sudden wash of anxiety run through her, then shut off the television instead and returned to her reading.

Let sleeping dogs lie, she thought, and she spent the rest of her night, minding her own business, minding her future.

---

She wouldn’t have broken if not for her dream that night.

“Bambi, you don’t ever stop crying, do you?”

Kumi’s eyes jolted open at the sound of that voice, the mischievous laugh she remembered from her childhood, even if it was richer, an evolved version. It couldn’t be, could it?

But she was no longer in her room. Instead, she was somewhere warm and blindingly bright, where her eyes could barely adjust, and her body felt… lighter?

She rose to a sitting position, shielding her watering eyes from the light, only to be startled by a warm hand taking hers, interlacing their fingers.

“Kumi-chan, look.”

Her eyes opened again, and this time, rather than light unfocusing her, there was a man before her, with a face that was foreign yet oh-so-familiar, crouched down on one knee and still holding her hand gently.

Fangs grinned back at her, and she gasped.

“K-Kei..?”

Her voice came out no more than a squeak and suddenly in her heart she was fourteen again, and her lip started to quiver as she repeated his name again.

What did this mean? To be looking at him again, a him that was no longer dead just days before he turned fifteen, whose dark, wavy locks were even longer and whose face had aged just as much as hers, but with the same fox-like brown eyes that she’d fallen in love with a decade ago as part of a sharper angled, handsome face?

She repeated his name yet again, heart thumping and tears welling up in her eyes, and he cupped her face in her hands, using his thumbs to wipe away her tears.

He frowned.

“I didn’t mean to make you sad,” he said, a pensive look on his face. He sighed, and Kumi felt his lips press onto her forehead. Warm, soft lips that felt every bit as real as she did, and it only made her hurt more.

She was hallucinating. All of this was impossible, whatever this was.

So why did it feel so real?

“I miss you so much,” she choked out.

A decade had passed, and here she was. Conjuring up an image of Baji as he could have been if he had lived, something that may not be real. She wasn’t even sure he’d look like this - might he have cut his hair, or gotten his teeth fixed? How did she know what his voice would settle to be like in adulthood, and if this soothing baritone in her ears was anything close? How did she know he would grow to this height he now stood at, towering over her once he’d pulled her to her feet and pressed her head against his chest? How did she know what his arms would feel like wrapped around her? Would she actually have felt this safe and warm?

Would he have still cared for her, had he lived?

“I miss you too.”

She sobbed harder.

“How can you miss me when you’re dead?”

He paused, and let a hand stroke through her hair.

“Pretend.”

Almost shocked, she pulled back and looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He smiled sadly at her and shrugged.

“Pretend I’m still here with you. I’ll stay with you till morning comes,” he promised. "I can promise you at least this much.”

There’s a point where it’s easier to live in the delusion, and it was at this point, where Baji leaned in to kiss her, then embrace her in a way they never could in life. They drank deeply of each other throughout the night, connecting with each other physically and emotionally, and the young woman hoped that the cursed morning would never come, where she’d have to give up on this dream or vision or delusion or whatever the fuck it was, and return to reality.

But alas the dead cannot commune with the living forever.

Kumi woke up in a cold bed where Baji was no longer inside her or beside her or with her, and there was nothing that remained but messy bed sheets, dampness between her legs and unrelenting, fresh pain in her heart.

She brought her knees to her chest, and felt new anguish for the first time in years. Birds chirped outside her window to welcome the dawn and light seeped through her window, and on this cool Saturday morning, she had regressed to the same child curled up in blankets, encountering heartbreak for the first time.

Why?

Why couldn’t she get past this?

Her father had said it first. It’s just a boy.

And here she was, a grown woman, who no longer could love, hanging on desperately to a ghost.

Kumi’s phone alarm went off suddenly - she’d forgotten to turn it off - and she reached for her phone, her whole body shaking like a leaf. She was pathetic, despite the fact that she so desperately wanted to be strong.

And thus, the moment she quieted the alarm, she dialed the only person who could understand the pain she felt. Even if it was selfish. Even if it had been a decade.

She didn’t expect her to pick up, but she did.

“Kumi?”

The familiar sound of Kaksi’s voice made her want to weep in a different way. Relief rushing over a wave.

She sucked air into her lungs and smiled, warm, thankful tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Kaksi, I missed you so much.”

[kill-your-authors]

My TTT 1 and TTT 3 Joe x Nicky character analysis:

Reading the Tales Through Time 3 comic is interesting because remember in the first Tales Through Time comic everyone was up in arms because Nicky was being “out of character” because he didn’t want to stab a nazi on sight in the middle of his romantic night out with Joe and because Nicky was giving Joe shit for always finding some righteous pursuit to interrupt their only private time together and because he seemed “annoyed” (he didn’t, but I digress...) to be interrupted by a woman’s desperate scream seconds before someone attempted to rape her? 

Yet, in this most recent comic, Joe is frustrated with Nicky because he’s going on a spree in Minnesota during the moon landing, right? Nicky is the one going out of his way to pursue justice in the middle of something that’s important to Joe. Not a romantic night out, but nonetheless, a one-of-a-kind moment in history that Joe specifically wanted to witness with Nicky. Joe is the one arguing against it.  For him it was enough to kill the serial killer, but for Nicky, it wasn’t. He wants to kill everyone who played any part in allowing the killer to get away with it. 

Now, setting aside the possibility that this contradiction is just an oversight on the writers’ part -

What changed and why?

In both TTT 1 and 3, Joe and Nicky feel entirely in character to me. I didn’t agree with people who thought that Nicky was being “out of character” in TTT 1 for not wanting to cause a scene on their romantic night out with someone who hadn’t even committed a crime yet, nevermind that Nicky seems like the voice of reason, the practical one, the one between Nicky and Joe who is more capable of accepting that they can’t get every bad guy every time, they can’t fight every battle every time. They can only do so much good, and they still deserve time for themselves. Or at least, that’s what I was thinking after reading TTT 1.

Now though, after reading TTT 3, it suddenly makes as much sense to me that Joe be the one who is more capable of accepting that they can’t do it all all the time, and that they still deserve time to themselves, and Nicky be the passionate one who can’t let something go. (I think I prefer it, honestly. I loved hearing Joe talk about seeing the beauty and magic in life. He’s such a pure-hearted character and I’ve always headcanoned that he more than anyone else in the guard is extremely grateful for his long life and never takes it for granted and never resents it because he knows there is always more to see and experience and live for.)

But either way, the point is the comics contradict one another, right? Joe and Nicky switched points of view? 

So, what makes this time different for the both of them? Why isn’t Joe the one on the spree, and Nicky the one in the bar lamenting that Joe isn’t there with him to witness the moon-landing? 

I think the difference lies in what the purpose of killing is for each of them. 

For Joe, killing is a means to an end. People are being killed by a killer - kill the killer, stop the killing. The killer is now dead and so he can’t kill anyone else. In Joe’s eyes, he has made the world a better place, he has saved the lives of that killer’s future victims. Preventing future harm is the point of killing for Joe. 

But for Nicky? Killing is about punishment. It is about taking the life of someone who doesn’t deserve to live. For Nicky, life is a privilege not a right. You earn your life either by doing good, or at the very least, by not doing harm. And once you’ve done harm, you no longer deserve to live. That is why Nicky thinks the people who enabled the killer to keep killing also deserve to die. This isn’t about hypothetical future victims that would have died. This is about victims who have already died. He is looking at the 24 men and boys who were killed and thinking they would still be alive if it weren’t for the killer AND he is looking at everyone who enabled that killer, and thinking some of the 24 men and boys would also still be alive if it weren’t for them. Punishing harm done is the point of killing for Nicky.

And what’s really interesting is when you start considering why that is. Why killing is about preventing future harm for Joe and why killing is about punishing harm already done for Nicky.

As always, it brings me back to their origin. Most likely, Joe was just in the wrong place at the wrong time when the siege of Jerusalem happened. He had been a merchant, but now his people were being slaughtered. He took up a scimitar and decided to fight to save them because the alternative was letting people die. For Nicky, the Crusades were a choice he made. He went to Jerusalem with the intention of killing people. Later, he realized what he’d done. The harm he’d done. The harm his people had done. For 900 some years, he has had to live with himself and for 900 some years he has done all the good he can do, served all the justice he can, in an attempt to make up for the harm he did in the Crusades. 

Joe has forgiven him, and loved him, and seen him become compassionate and good. Joe knows Nicky will never harm anyone again, and so that is why it is about what will happen for Joe, and not what has happened. Because of Nicky, it can never just be about what a person has done. It can only ever be about whether or not that person will change, and whether or not they will continue to do harm. 

But for Nicky, it has to always be about what a person has already done. Between being Catholic, and having been a part of something horrible, Nicky believes people have to be punished for what they’ve done. It is not enough for someone to be sorry, or never do it again. They have to make up for the harm they’ve done. And to Nicky, there are some things you just can’t make up for. In Nicky’s eyes, killing 24 men and boys, or enabling someone to kill 24 men and boys, is one of those things you can’t make up for. So he kills them. 

And this doesn’t contradict anything that happened in TTT 1. In TTT 1, the nazi hadn’t done anything yet. Both Joe and Nicky recognized that he would - which explains why Joe was already upset, and already about to do something, because for Joe it is about what will happen - but he hadn’t yet - which explains why Nicky tries to talk Joe out of doing something, because for Nicky it’s about what’s already happened. And it wasn’t until he did do something that Joe killed him. Similarly with the flashback, someone did something unforgivable, and so Joe killed him. For both Joe and Nicky killing those two in those respective situations aligned with their own personal reasons for killing. Those men were prevented from assaulting anyone in the future and punished for the assault they’d already done. 

If anything I’m saying right now is an accurate interpretation of Joe and Nicky’s individual motives for killing, I have to say that I really appreciate this characterization. I prefer a Nicky who can be blinded by the pursuit of justice to the point that he becomes something ugly (as Joe points out, his honor, his bravery, his compassion becomes ugly) and I prefer a Joe who cares more about helping good people than harming bad people. I think it makes sense that this is what it’s about for both of them. Joe could never be like Nicky, because if he was like Nicky, he could never have forgiven Nicky, even after Nicky became the honorable and brave and compassionate person he loves and it also makes sense that this is why Joe hates what Nicky’s doing “no matter his intent.” And Nicky knows, because of his past, because of what he did in the crusades, that it’s not enough that no more harm is done. People have to make up for what they’ve done, or they deserve to die. 

This might be simplifying things a bit. I think Nicky’s being blinded by something more than the pursuit of justice. I think this is personal to him as a gay man. He brings up the detective’s homophobia and his responsibility (oath to God) that he help people regardless of his own personal biases. He also mentions that he doesn’t feel better after he kills the detective, but that it’s better than how he’d feel if the detective had gone to work that night, implying I think, that he, like Joe, also takes the possibility of future harm into consideration when he decides to kill someone. 

But really, I do think that’s the difference. Preventing future harm, and punishing past harm, and I really like it. 

It makes me think about the movie, and how, before Rucka gave his word of God, there was a lot of debate about who’s idea it was to exile Booker for 100 years, and the fandom was split between whether or not Joe or Nicky proposed it. Most people thought that because Joe appeared angrier than Nicky did upon first learning about the betrayal, that it had to be Joe. 

I was on the side that thought that Joe appearing angrier didn’t indicate that he would have proposed the 100 years, because Joe, in general, was an open book that wears his heart on his sleeve and so, in general, Joe is always reacting the most passionately to anything that happens. I said I thought Nicky was angrier than Joe, and would more likely propose the 100 years, and that the only reason Nicky didn’t react as passionately is because Nicky, in general, is restrained in his emotions, and his anger runs cold rather than hot. 

Nicky doesn’t say a word to Booker from that point on in the movie, and at the end when they say goodbye to Booker, Joe looks over his shoulder at Booker, hesitates to walk away, and looks genuinely torn - whereas, while Andy is talking to Booker, Nicky is wearing a severe expression, almost like disgust or a sneer, and when they turn to leave he goes first without looking back. It made sense to me that Nicky approach the situation by cutting Booker off immediately, by no longer talking to him, and wanting Joe to do the same (he tells Joe to stop yelling at Booker, which many took as a sign that Nicky wasn’t as angry or that he felt sorry for Booker. I don’t think that’s the case at all). 

Even more so now, it makes sense to me that Nicky would insists on a 100 year exile, because he more than Joe would care about Booker making up for the harm he’d done. (But Rucka gave his word of God it was Joe who wanted the 100 years, and so it makes no difference if I think it doesn’t make sense, because everyone’s already hopped on board with Rucka’s word of God, because everyone prefers an angry, resentful, unforgiving, merciless Joe over...you know, actual canon Joe, who is the complete fucking opposite in every way possible...But...yeah, it doesn’t make sense lmao.)

Anyway, sorry this is so long but here’s my two cents. 

[mazzy-moon]

A Lone Butterfly - Chapter 16

Title of Chapter: Hell Hath No Fury

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings/Tags: Allusions to sex trafficking and rape, Death, Violence

Pairing: Javier Peña (Narcos) x Isabel Cotrille (OFC)

Summary:  Sanz's betrayal is made clear with a shocking revelation. Realizing she's low on options, Isabel comes up with a plan to take down Dante and hopefully free the other girls being held prisoner.

Notes: Look forward to more Javi in the next chapter ;)

Read it on ao3

"Sanz!" I cry out, only just realizing how odd it is that I don't know the woman's first name. I've considered her almost a friend during my stay in Columbia.

Sanz is reactionless. I expect the rest of the task force to stroll in behind her, but nobody does. It's just her. She barely looks at me.

"Perfect timing, Agent Sanz. I was just explaining to Isabel how we were able to find her. Would you like to fill her in on the rest?" Dante's voice is almost cheerful. He seems to be relishing in my confusion.

"Please have a seat," Dante gestures to the seat across from me.

Sanz sits down, and looks slightly ashamed. My hope of her getting me out of here has vanished. I don't know what's going on, but I can tell she's not here to help me.

"What's going on? Are you working for them?" I ask her. It seemed the only logical conclusion at the moment, though I couldn't quite wrap my head around it.

"Yes." There's no emotion in her voice as she affirms what I already assumed.

"Agent Sanz has been quite helpful to us. Isn't that right?"

Sanz keeps her gaze downwards.

"You see, when you came back to Columbia, we knew the Embassy would be keeping a close eye on you. So, we tracked down Sanz here and offered her generous compensation in exchange for knowledge of your whereabouts."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. Sanz had been with me since day one. I trusted her. I think back to the day she teased me about Javier. None of this made sense. Was she so money hungry that she would hand me over to these monsters?

"Why?" I look directly at her as I mutter the word.

"You heard him, Isabel."

"How could you be so heartless?"

Sanz snaps then. Her eyes are on me, full of hatred, as she jerks her head up.

"Me? I had to sit and watch you trick Javier into falling for you. You! Hardly more than a child," she scoffs.

My confusion doubles as I stare at her in bewilderment. "What are you talking about?"

"For years I've waited for Javier, since the first day I arrived at the Embassy. He didn't reciprocate, but it didn't matter. I could be patient. Sure, he had his flings, but they were never more than that. Until you came along. I knew from the moment I saw the two of you together, my chance was gone. What I had waited for countless days and nights, you somehow managed to attain immediately. I hated you for it."

"So, what? Because Javier didn't love you back, you decide to give me over to these people?"

Sanz doesn't reply. In her expression I find my answer. Yes. She hated me so much she was willing to give me over to rapists and murderers. Things that didn't make sense before suddenly start to come together. Like how the cartel was able to find me at the hide out with Javier. He had said only a few people knew the place existed. Sanz must have been one of those people.

I want scream and yell at her. How could she blame me for her inability to move on? I stay quiet though, because there's nothing left to say. She's made her intentions abundantly clear.

I almost forgot Dante was sitting at the table with us until he speaks up again.

"Well, this is interesting. Here I was thinking Sanz was just out to earn some easy cash, but turns out she had her own reasons for handing you over to us." Dante laughs. The sound is repulsive. "Well you know what they say. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

Sanz chimes in, breaking off Dante's sentence. "Well? You have her don't you? Where's my payment?"

"Oh yes. Well, I guess now is as good a time as any." Dante gestures to one of his men standing near the wall.

Sanz doesn't have time to process what happens next before the guard places the gun against her head. Her now limp body slumps in the chair at an awkward angle. I sit in my own chair unmoving, struggling to process what I just witnessed. Sanz is dead.

I look up to Dante, who is seemingly unaffected by the whole ordeal. He meets my eyes.

"You're probably wondering why we chose to kill her. It was the plan all along. We couldn't just let her go back to the Embassy after all this, now could we? She knew too much. The fact she didn't see it coming is honestly pathetic, wouldn't you agree?"

I don't answer him. I'm frozen in my chair as I watch two men drag Sanz's body out of the room.

"Alright, well, now that everything's been made clear, I will have one of my guards escort you to my rooms," Dante states matter-of-factly.

I barely register the large hands that haul me up and out of my chair. I'm pushed back through the wide set of doors and dragged down numerous hallways until we arrive at what I guess is Dante's quarters. I don't know what I was expecting when the doors open but it wasn't this. The room is obnoxiously luxurious, and completely out of place with the rest of the building. I'm pushed in and left alone. I hear the doors lock, but can't make out any footsteps. The guards must be standing at the doors, then.

Looking over at the silk covered bed, I find a pair of bright red, lacy lingerie. There's no way in hell I'm putting that on. I don't know how long I have until Dante arrives, but I spend my time scouring the room for anything to defend myself with, only to come up short.

I sit down against the wall and think. I don't know how much time passes before I come up with my plan. It's risky, and I can't be sure it will work, but it's my only chance. My mind goes to Sasha. If I'm wrong, and this doesn't work, it will be my fault if she gets hurt. She's somewhere in this building, just like all the other girls I saw on that file in Javier's office. There here, and they're counting on me. I take a deep breath and walk towards the bed.

I peel off my sweats and pick up the lingerie, swallowing down my disgust as I step into it.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, I wait.

[ikkaku-of-heart]

Her Brother's Blood is on His Hands

(Originally written for @heart-pirates-week for Ikkaku’s day with the prompt “Family” but ended up being delayed until now. Inspired by discussions with @shambledsurgeon and @medicus-mortem)

Ikkaku awoke slowly, the persistent beeping of a heart monitor resembling that of a particularly slow but annoying alarm clock. She tried to sit up but a sharp pain in her side dissuaded her, so she was forced to remain on her back, looking around at the sterile walls of the infirmary. She was hooked up to an IV, there were several machines monitoring her vitals, and she could feel the pressure of tightly-wound bandages around her torso and arms.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Law said from the chair at her bedside, putting down the medical book he’d been reading. The circles under his eyes appeared darker than usual, but his grin was comforting and sure. “I was beginning to wonder if we’d have to resort to drastic measures to wake Sleeping Beauty.”

“Law?” she asked weakly, grimacing at how hoarse she sounded due to the dryness of her throat. “The fuck happened?”

“Gonna have to be more specific,” he stated as he carefully helped prop her up enough that she could safely drink some water. “Do you mean how did you end up here? Maybe the extent of your wounds? Or how about what, exactly, I did to the fucker who hurt you?”

Her eyes widened as she recalled what had happened. She’d been taking a walk with Jean Bart, venting about how much she hated that they were now government dogs because Law’d insisted on handing the Navy one hundred hearts. They’d run into a squad of Marines. Her brother’s squad, to be exact. Ushi had decided it was pointless trying to climb the Navy ranks the normal way, and thus had come up with the idea of sucking up to the Celestial Dragons. And what better way to do so than to return to Saint Rosward his wayward slave?

Heart clenching at the thought of her shipmate being handed back over to those bastards, she asked, “Is Jean—”

“He’s fine. Discharged yesterday,” Law promised, nodding towards the empty bed on the other side of the room. He picked up a chart, studying it as he continued, “Needed a lot of stitches for the lacerations across his back and arms, but nothing life-threatening.”

“Good,” she sighed in relief. He hadn’t been killed or taken. Jean Bart would continue to live as a free man for a while longer. He deserved that much.

“Was quite the sight, seeing him charging towards the ship, covered in blood, carrying you like a baby while you bled out from a stab wound,” he commented, voice even, though there was an unmistakable tightness in his jaw. “I’m just glad he managed to tell me who’d done this to you two before he passed out.”

White teeth sank into her bottom lip, guilt pulsing through her. That’s right. It hadn’t exactly been a victory. They’d managed to take down most of the Marines, but Ushi had managed to get behind her, and then there’d been excruciating pain as he’d driven a knife deep into her side…

“I’m sorry, Captain,” she whispered, black curls hiding her face as she hung her head in shame.

“The hell are you apologizing for?” he asked, gold eyes flicking up from the clipboard and narrowing in displeasure.

She wrung her hands, anxious and guilty. “Jean Bart got hurt because of my family baggage.”

“He got hurt because of an opportunistic asshole who decided that Jean being under the protection of a shichibukai didn’t matter,” he snapped. Pausing, he took a deep breath to compose himself. “The fact that said asshole came out of the same uterus as you is irrelevant.”

“We both know that’s not true,” she countered, refusing to look at him. “He targeted the Hearts because of me. He always has. And he wouldn’t have been able to go after Jean Bart if I’d let you kill him years ago. Or killed him myself. You deserve a subordinate with the stones to kill her own brother.”

Internally, she berated herself for that last part. None of this would be a problem if she’d just toughened up and put an end to that bastard. Why did she always seem to stop herself? Morality? Because she knew how heartbroken her parents would be? Because even years later, she was still scared of her childhood boogeyman?

Her thoughts were disturbed by the clipboard lightly smacking her on the head in reproach. It didn’t hurt, but Ikkaku rubbed her head anyway, frowning up at her captain. “You trying to knock me unconscious again?”

“If that’s what it takes to get you to stop talking bullshit,” he retorted. He glared at her for a moment before letting out a sigh, a tattooed hand falling heavily on her shoulder. “Ikkaku,” Law stated, tone brokering no argument, “what I deserve is a subordinate with the stones to stand up to a power-hungry bastard looking to sell her nakama to a bunch of delusional inbred freaks, which that’s exactly what I’ve got. And what you deserve is to not get stabbed in the spleen by your own blood.”

Well. It was hard to argue that logic. “I guess. But next time—”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“You don’t know that.”

The hand on her shoulder fell away to flip through the pages of her chart. “Ikkaku, you nearly bled out before you even got to the sub. You’re lucky Shachi and Penguin share your blood type and were basically tripping over themselves to donate. I had to replace your spleen and left kidney, and if that knife had gone in at a slightly different angle, he could have punctured your stomach or lung. In other words, this bastard nearly cost me my engineer. You’ve known me for goin’ on five years now; do you really think that once you were stable I just sat around twiddling my thumbs while I waited for you to wake up?”

Dark eyes widened in realization. “Did you kill him?”

“Would you be mad if I said I had?”

No. Not at him at least, but she still felt like she’d let him down by not being able to do it herself. “He shouldn’t have been your problem to solve.”

“You’re right. He shouldn’t have been a problem,” he replied harshly. Before Ikkaku could internally berate herself further, though, Law ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and there was a spark of guilt in his eyes. “No Marine should have even touched you guys. That’s supposed to be one of the fucking perks of being a shichibukai. I told you when I took this damn title that you be safe and look how that turned out.”

Yes, that had been a major argument between them, hadn’t it? For Ikkaku, not wanting to be affiliated with the World Government hadn’t just been a matter of pride or general hatred for the bastards who ran the world – she’d been afraid. Terrified that her brother would be waiting for her around every corner. That he’d find a way to get her alone, to finish the job he’d started when she was seven, to finally get her out of his hair. Law had promised she’d be safe, that he wouldn’t let him so much as breath near her. Eventually, she’d come to believe him, but things hadn’t gone to plan.

“You can’t blame yourself for Ushi not following the rules, Law,” she insisted. Yeah, she could have berated him for not listening to her, but in reality, Law’s logic had been sound; Ushi shouldn’t have dared to try anything. Ikkaku didn’t just have the Hearts protecting her anymore – the Navy itself had become another obstacle in his way. She should have been safe.

However, even she hadn’t fully considered why Ushi would go this far, but in hindsight, it made sense. Last she’d checked, he hadn’t been promoted in a while. Hadn’t advanced as quickly as he wanted or earned any accolades for heroism like everyone back home had been expecting. He was a commodore still – not even a rear-admiral, and his name didn’t strike fear into the hearts of pirates like Smoker’s did.

Because he’d been put on a pedestal, her brother had always gotten away with everything, which had only enforced his cruel and abusive nature. The whole island had believed that he’d become a famous Marine and boost their reputation, which was why they’d been willing to overlook the bruises that littered his sister’s arms, or the fact that she’d gone missing for three days while under his care.

If he’d come home a failure, everyone would have to finally admit he was nothing but a twisted, cruel bully. And instead of accepting the blame for enabling, they’d likely make him answer for his crimes.

But more than that, he’d be forced to accept that he was never that special to begin with, and she knew a man as arrogant as him wouldn’t be able to bear that.

Shaking her head, she almost felt pity for him. “Ushi was desperate, and desperate men are unpredictable as fuck. You couldn’t have known he’d be crazy enough to try to suck up to the Celestial Dragons.”

“Neither of us could have known, but I still could have protected you better,” Law retorted, crossing his arms. He still didn’t look fully convinced of his own absolution, but he declared quite plainly, “The fact is, brothers shouldn’t murder their younger siblings, or even try to.”

Well, not even Ikkaku could argue that.

But actions had consequences, and there was still a strong chance Law’s retaliation, justified or not, would bite him in the ass.

“Ushi might have been no one special, but the Navy’s not going to be happy about you killing one of their own,” she said, genuinely worried. Even if Ushi had been going against orders, shichibukai weren’t supposed to attack their Marine allies. What if they decided to strip Law of his new title? Sure, she hated that he was a government dog, but it was a vital part of his plan to take down Joker, and if that had been stripped away because he’d recklessly pursued revenge on her behalf…

The way he smirked at her belied that he didn’t share even a fraction of her concern. “The Navy’ll have a hell of a time pinning a murder on me when there’s no evidence. It’s unlikely he was ordered to attack you and Jean Bart, so there’s no paper trail. The man was obsessed with advancing up the ladder, so likely only a select few are even aware you’re related, thus no one knows of his unfortunate connection to the Heart Pirates. And unless they plan on gutting a bunch of Sea Kings and piecing together chunks of half-digested flesh, I doubt they’ll find enough of his body to even determine his cause of death.”

“You fed him to Sea Kings?”

“His remains, at least. As for how I killed him…well, I won’t bore you with the details.”

It was highly doubtful what he’d done could be described as boring, but Ikkaku decided not to press him. Knowing Law, it had been slow, painful, and had probably involved dissection. “You didn’t have to do all that for me, Captain.”

He dismissed her concerns with a casual wave of his hand. “Of course I did. You’re family. Besides, if I hadn’t, the rest of the crew would have gone after him themselves, and they wouldn’t have done as good a job covering their tracks. Or made him scream quite as loud. No offense to them, but conventional torture methods just can’t match the agony of having your heart slowly crushed to a pulp.”

Was she a bad person for not feeling sick at the thought of her oldest brother—her own blood—being subjected to the Surgeon of Death’s sadism? That instead of anger or disgust, she felt relieved? Sure, he was a massive piece of shit who deserved to die for everything he’d done to her, her other brothers, and who knows what else, but he was still family, wasn’t he?

No. The Hearts were family. Law was family. He was right – Ushi was blood, but he wasn’t her brother.

Law’s brow furrowed with concern and he reached forward, cupping her cheeks and wiping tears away with his thumbs. Ikkaku hadn’t even realized she was crying.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, looking genuinely guilty. “I shouldn’t have overstepped like that. I should have at least waited until you were awake and asked—”

Though she was tired and weak and it took far more effort than she’d like, Ikkaku lifted her arm and flicked Law squarely in the forehead. He didn’t quite flinch back, but he did give her an annoyed grunt, but his brow did smooth out when he saw her bright smile.

“Thank you,” she said, cheeks streaked with tears but voice warm with love and affection and gratitude. It might take a while for her to fully accept that Ushi was no longer laying in wait at every Marine base, but for now, she could breath a little easier. The monster from her childhood had finally been vanquished.

Trafalgar Law might not have been a knight in shining armor, but he was something better. He was the big brother she’d always wished for.

Relieved that she wasn’t angry, Law gave her a tiny but sincere grin back. His engineer was alive, safe, and giving him that sunny smile that could light up a room. Well worth the blood on his hands, and quietly, he vowed to keep her, and the rest of his Hearts, safe from whatever hell might come their way.

They were a loyal bunch of fools, but they were his family. He’d set the world on fire before allowing anything to happen to them.

A hand adorned with the word DEATH retreated from Ikkaku’s cheek to ruffle her hair. “Don’t mention it.”

[hobihobihoe]

Unruly - Part one

Obey me! + Mafia BTS + 0T7 au x reader                                                                

2.5k ish 

Warnings : 18+ slowwww burn ~ eventual smut ~ descriptions of blood and violence ~ cliche city ~ alsooo uhh if you care about grammar this is not 4 U cause imma dumb bitch <3

Andd ahh this is the first thing i’ve ever written so its probably kinda shit.. :)

Great. Just great. Why did you agree to this again? Oh yeah because you’re a good person, or at least you’re trying to be. You’d just agreed to cover Rosies shift, apparently she was sick, but what you hadn't taken into account when you’d agreed to work was that Rosie had been booked to a private venue, well I guess now you had been booked to a private venue. You hated working private venues, as a bartender people would sometimes assume you provided the drinks or that because you weren't working at your company bar you would join in with shots or maybe give them a discount as you were a lone ranger incharge of yourself and providing alcohol for the night. One thing a private venue did mean though was money, getting paid nearly twice the amount you usually did as well as hopefully generous tips from wealthy clients. But still you weren’t quite sure three times the work was worth only double the pay, but well… fuck it you’ve gotta be a good friend/colleague and well person to Rosie so you just have to suck it up.

Thankfully it was a Saturday night so you didn't have to work it after being at university all day. So you bid farewell to the library you had been pretending to study at and headed home to get changed into something more presentable because a hoodie three times your size and leggings covered in dorito dust probably wouldn't fly at this kind of event.

As you opened the door you heard the crocky meows of your little baby, Zuki. He was an all black rescue cat that you'd adopted two years ago, when you’d started university, as a companion and partly because as soon as you saw his cute little face you were screwed and had to bring him home. You bent down to stroke his head and scratch behind his ear just the way he likes, which results in him vibrating with loud purrs that soften your heart. “Okay baby I love you but I gotta go get ready” Zuki looks at you with annoyance now that you've cut his pampering session short, he's such a spoiled little brat you think to yourself, but as he follows you into your bedroom with his tail high in the air and a slight sway in his steps you can't bring yourself to care. He is just too damn cute.

Now donned in your crisp white shirt and black dress pants you tame your hair enough so that it resembles a neatish bun, you say goodbye to your fur baby and head off to your car on your way to hopefully a nice paycheque.

When you arrive you're greeted by Jae. He leads you to the bar and tells you to ask him if there's anything you need. Okay so far so good, you've just gotta make yourself familiar with any specialised drinks on the menu and the rest should be smooth sailing. About 10 minutes after you arrive a large group of men appear, they sit down on two separate sides of the long table that takes up most of the room, they then send two men from each group respectively your way. Game time you think, the man that reaches the bar first is sweating noticeably, his black hair sticking to the front of his forehead matting the hair that it encompases. “sweetheart get me 6 doubles of gentleman jack over ice and 2 dry martinis”, you smile at him, so thankful that you wouldn't have to make any cocktails. They were time consuming and required a lot of faf essentially and a lot of cleaning up, “of course sir” you say as you smile at him, he barely acknowledges you as he goes to sit at one of the stools that lined the bar. As you get to making his drinks you hear the clearing of someone's throat, you look up and realise it was the other man that you had been coming over. You nearly choke on your spit at the sight of him. His pastel pink hair is delicately framing his cherub-like face, “Miss?”, oh shit you’d zoned out, “Oh i'm so sorry I missed what you said completely '' you admitted shly, he just gave a cute little chuckle. “ Its okay angel” you started to blush at the use of such an affectionate nickname “I asked if I could have 6 manhattans and a sex on the beach” great fucking coacktails you signed internaly, “Of course sir” that earned a smirk from him, you were just being professional, shit professional you had to remind yourself to focus on making the drinks as your traitorous eyes kept lingering in the area surrounding him.

As you finish preparing each individual drink you place them on the bar so the men can take them to booths. Just as you were setting down the final cocktail you brush fingers with the pink haired man, “oh... um” you say prepared to give him an apology but as you look up and meet his eyes you seem to lose your ability to form any kind of cohesive sentence “Jimin, angel, my names Jimin” he states  “oh uh, Jimin I hope you enjoy your drinks'' you feel like a pathetic teenager again unable to talk to the pretty boy at the party. “I'm sure I will angel” he throws over his shoulder as he walks back to the group of men he’d emerged from, what was it with him saying that nickname that just made you giddy. God I really need to get out more you thought, maybe you could go out tomorrow as you wouldn't be working since you covered rosies shift, maybe then you could get some real action and should hopefully suasiate you for a bit. Ugh it's like Jimin had awoken something within you, which usually you’d be interested to explore, but considering that you were at work you were gonna just have to put his beautiful face to the back of your mind for when you got home later and could relax properly. Zesh should you feel creepy? No its not your fault that what was practically sex on legs was going about all unobtainable, thats what your imagination and your trusty vibrator were for anyway.

An hour later and you've made exactly three more drinks, wow, maybe if you stare at the champagne flute for another 10 minutes you'll unlock its secrets and it will be more interesting. Just as you were debating wiping down the bar for the hundredth time you hear chairs being pulled out and moved loudly. You look up to see that both groups of men which were previously amicably sat at the table now have guns aimed at each other. You freeze. You haven't ever seen a gun in person before and there must be well over ten now all presumably aimed and ready to fire. You dunk under the bar as you hear yelling start. You weren't able to focus on what was being said by the men, too busy trying to focus on controlling your breathing. Fuck. that sounded like a gun shot. And then another. You've lost track of how many shots you've heard, lots is the amount you settle on, maybe if you just stay behind the bar and stay quiet they'll forget you’re there and leave you alone. There is a long silence in the room, you try your best to mimic it when you notice the movement in one of the wine glasses that are stacked up behind the bar. Someone pushes the staff entrance to the bar open and strides towards you, gun in his right hand. You start to push yourself backward but are soon met with the edge of the bar, the man is dressed in all red and if it weren't for the specks of blood covering his face you would consider him unbelievably attractive. You seem to have been consumed by these thoughts because you suddenly come back into your physical reality, met with a gun now pointed only inches away from your face. You search his eyes for any kind of mercy or empathy you could try to appeal to, what shocks you is you only see a smoldering fire. You see his finger move on the trigger and close your eyes, you don't want the last thing you see to be a stranger. Just as you were going to try to think of pleasant things and the ones you cheriouish you hear a voice. “Hobi stop” Jimin said rather nonchalantly given your current situation, “Chim just let me tie up this loose end then we can get going” the other man, you guess Hobi? Sneered. Wow he just thought of killing you as an inconvenience, what a dick. “Hobi I think we could use her for something else” “what?” Hobi questioned sternly “well even Yoongi mentioned how good his drink was and we always have to get a new bartender every meeting and it would be easier if we had one who knew who we were so when this kind of shit happens again we haven't got any loose ends” Jimin points out. Hobi seems to consider this for a minute before he moves away in a different direction to Jimin, you try to follow his eye line but because of your placement on the floor you can’t see over the bar. “Joon, obviously the call is yours to make” Hobi announces. “It does seem to be a practical suggestion and Jimin must have taken a liking to her if he stopped you, so I don't see why not” the ominous voice declared. After a second of those words sinking in you realise that they have just decided to take you with them, to take you captive.

You start to shake, turning your head to meet Jimin's eye “no uh..um.no please don't take me” you sniffle “I promise I never saw anything, I won't say anything p-please just let me go home” you can barley make out your own words as they are effectively smothered by your tears and your small gasps for breath as you aren't able to regulate your breathing. Jimin elegantly slides over the bar and bends down to your height “Angel don't be so silly, you're coming with us. You should really be thanking me” he gives you a small wink. That causes a fresh wave of panic to settle over you, you know there's a fire exit further down in the bar hidden within the sinks and stock area, with the spike of adrenaline you start to run towards the exit. It looks like it's going well until you hear a loud bang, then the feeling of the side of your head being hit registers, lastly you notice your eyesight unfocusing before darkness seems to override and then suddenly, nothing.

~JIMINS POV~

“Yoongi was that really necessary?” Jimin akses with a slight frown on his face. The older man shrugs “someone had to do something” Jimin sighs and looks at Jungkook, “it will be easier if you carry her.”

~YOUR POV~

When you open your eyes again you see white, adjusting slightly, you realise your laying on a bed. You sit up and look around the room. There are 5 other beds that you can see, they are all small single beds with a chest at the end of each. You look over your surroundings for a few minutes before you remember the circumstances leading up to you being here. You touch the back of your head and wince when your fingers meet a small swollen bump. You decided you should probably try and leave, poor Zuki is probably waiting for you to fill his food bowl. Wow, you realise in this situation you think of your cat's mortality more than your own, well you guess that's what your life has amounted to. Just as you stand up the door opens. “Oh you're awake now” You look over to see the small older woman who was speaking “Umm.. where am i?” The lady gives you a small smile “You're in the maids room sweetie.” Great that's cleared up nothing, you think bitterly. “Can I talk to whoever's in charge? Please?” You think this is probably your best bet, explain to them that you just want to go hope and hopefully they'll be humane enough to agree with that. “Yes, he wanted me to come and get you anyway” She states as she turns around walking away from the doorway, you start to follow her. As you continue walking through the hallways and up the stairs of this seemingly huge mansion you notice several men standing guard with guns rested in their hands, ready at all times. You start to wonder if maybe your idea is ridiculous as you realise wherever you are and whatever you have gotten yourself involved in may be larger than the small group of men you'd seen at the bar. Your worrying is cut short as the women raises her hand and knocks at a door you have stopped outside off, a short “Come in” is what is answered from the other side of the door, the older women looks to you, “You should go in alone, i'll be waiting for you here” You look at her and then to the door “Uh... thank you?” You’re not really sure what the appropriate response is in this situation but you don't want to be rude, she gives you a short nod and smile.

Once you open the door you're faced with one of the men you'd seen before. He regards you with a very slight smile before he gestures to a chair placed in front of the desk he is sitting behind, you walk over to sit at the chair before you look at him directly. You aren't sure if the bang to the head you had received had caused temporary delusions, but as you look at him you swear you see light radiating out of him. You meet his eyes for a second before you decide they are too intimidating and look away, “You wanted to see me?” you ask meekly, deciding to for now abandon your plea for freedom. “Yes, I did, i'm not sure if you remember why we brought you here so i’ll just go over your role again” he starts “You’re going to be working as our personal bartender, this means you will joins us on outings that we deem appropriate and also make our drinks whilst we are here, at the base” he then moves his face into your eye line so that he can make eye contact “And in return of your services we’ll let you live” he finishes his small speech with a slight smile, as if he had just offered you a job and you weren't being threatened and held captive in this place. You take a few minutes to think over what he had just said, you come to the conclusion that for now faking compliance is probably the safest thing you can do until you are able to find a window to escape. “Who do you mean when you say we?” you enquire, you weren't sure if you should be questioning the leader of this organisation?, but your curiosity had won over any of the other responses you considered.

[do-y0u-have-to-let-it-linger]

hi!!! can i get an x-men shift please? i’m bi (but hetero leaning) and use she/her pronouns. i’m a sagittarius, INTP, and am super into pop culture, movies tv shows music stuff like that. i’m an introvert, pretty shy at first but once you get to know me i’m pretty funny and kinda an asshole. i’m 5’7”, plus size and curvy, with longish wavy brown hair, blue eyes, and wear black glasses. i dress pretty comfy, jeans and t-shirts, sweatshirts, but i also have a leather jacket when i want to look more put together. mostly wear vans and converse. i love taylor swift, star wars, and all the superhero movies out there. i honestly don’t know what my mutation would be, i’ve never found one that fits right i guess. can’t wait to see who i’m paired with! love your blog, and thank you :)

I ship you with Peter Maximoff!

Warning: ✨contains swear words, mentions of being high, and grammatical errors probably✨

Peter is the type of person who thinks of bold and outrageous plans, but is horrible at executing them.

This is especially apparent now that he is part of the X-Men, because of the high stakes that often come hand and hand with these plans.

Yet at this moment, standing in front of you, attempting to respond to your simple and reasonable question, he feels as though the stakes of this plan are higher than any other he has previously made.

You and Peter were very close, most of you X-Men were. Shared trauma bonded you all like a family. So you were very comfortable around each other, like the: "We literally laugh at each other's farts and say 'love ya!' When one of us leaves a room." comfortable, so it concerned you that he seemed so nervous. You repeated your, as previously stated, simple and reasonable question.

"Peter, what the fuck."

You were mid-way through Empire Strikes Back when he first appeared, standing in front of the TV. Generally, when someone is watching a movie alone with the volume level barely audible, at 2 AM in the morning, they do not expect to be interrupted, but there he was. Interrupting you.

So you had asked him if he wanted to watch the movie with you and he said no.

Then you asked him if something was wrong and he said no.

But after he had stood in front of the television long enough for you to have paused the movie, you had come to the conclusion that he was messing with you. Hence the two "what the fuck"s.

He finally responded, seemly returning to his body after his brain's small vacation to who knows where.

"I need to talk to you about something important, and I wanted it to go a certain way but that way never actually happens so I'm doing it another way." Well, that was even more incoherent than his usual sentences.

"Wait- are you high again?"

"No! No. Well, maybe a little- but that's not the point."

"Sure, now what's going on."

"We're like... technically co-workers because of us being X-Men and shit, right?"

"If Bat-Man and Robin are co-workers, then yes."

"Don't be self-deprecating, you're way cooler than a silly side-kick."

You raised your eyebrows at him, "I wasn't Robin in that analogy, but thank you."

"Wait, I'm Robin?"

"You are a grown man who just used the world silly un-ironically, and I feel like that's something Robin would do. Just to clarify I don't know shit about Bat-man."

"Hey I'm barely a grown man- I'm not 25 yet, that would entail being a grown man, and I've got time 'till then! Anyway, stop going off-topic."

"Then move on from being weirdly defensive about being an adult in the eyes of the state."

"Touché. So, we're co-workers."

"Correct. What's the point."

"That's a problem."

"Why?"

"Well, ok this needs to be prefaced so consider this me shushing you in a respectful and not sexist way. You have been shushed."

"...Ok?"

"Shh! Now I get to ramble. So you know movies?" He gestured towards the school's collection of movies that sat next to the tv, and you nodded confused. "So in these movies, things happen certain ways, but those certain ways seem just as scary as the opposite of those ways." Yeah, he was totally high. "So, wow I'm starting so many sentences with the word 'so'. Anyway- I want to tell you something but I don't want it to be like a movie but I don't want it to be like not in a movie either. So I just want to say it then leave. Like- I'm going to run after I say it. Is that okay? You are temporarily un-shushed."

"If you're dying it's not, but if it's basically anything else then yeah. Go for it, you speedy coward."

"Cool. I mean- the nickname hurt but cool. Cool." He looked at you for a second. "Can you like... turn around?"

"Turn around?"

He now acknowledged that that was an odd thing to ask. "...Yeah. Is that dumb?"

"No, no, I'll turn around." To lighten the awkward mood, you made a joke. "A reasonable price for your terrible secrets to be revealed to me." It was not a very funny joke, but you tried your best and earned a (pity) scoff from him.

You were now both sitting criscrossed on the couch, facing the same direction. You were staring at a wall you found very uninteresting, and he was staring at the back of the head belonging to a person he found very interesting.

"So- basically I think you're... pretty..." He said the word intending to add another adjective after it, like 'cool', but he decided against it because that would be stupid. "And I have this problem where when I figure out I want to, quote-unquote, date someone, which is a gross word, by the way, I'm always friends with them. That means it has to be this dramatic thing. But I don't want it to be! You know? I just want to tell you that I have a stupid crush on you like a normal person. And- that's why I suddenly started hating training, because who likes to see people they want to smooch almost fake die, huh? No one! That's who! And I want to explain why I like you, but whenever I talk to Wanda about you, I always end up describing you the way a first grader describes their crush! Like: she's pwetty and smawt or whatever but that's fuckin' dumb. I guess that makes sense because I don't have crushes on people ever, and I barely dated in school, so I have no idea how to do this and I just want to pass you one of those 'hey, do you like me?!' notes with the fuckin' checkmarks!! And I am an adult person who is kind of afraid of kissing! What?!? Also, I don't have abs like Scott! Or boobs, and I know you like people with or without boobs and boobs are great! Also, to backtrack, don't think that I think you would go for Scott, even though if you were to, I would be supportive of you, but also sad because I would prefer if you went for me! So I want to be normal. Normal like the people in movies who meet someone cute and ask them out and not like the movies with the big stupid confessions. Trust me, if I had noticed that I whatever you like a year ago, I would have asked you out! Well no I wouldn't of because I would be too afraid to talk to you. But anyway I made you this," He reached around you and handed you a folded-up note. "Don't open it until I run away, but just leave it here with your response. If you check no, I bet if we paid Jean enough money she would erase this interaction from our brains. I only have seven dollars but I'm betting on a 'friends and family' discount. But.. if you say yes, I can ask you out like a dick in a movie, knowing you'll say yes because I am a speedy coward. I want you to call me a speedy coward when I do cowardly shit speedily, then do this cute thing where you'd be like 'but you're my speedy coward''. Anyway, I'm going to leave now. Love ya, but in the way we always said it beforehand, not in a dramatic confession way. Sorry I delved into my childhood there. Bye." You felt him awkwardly pat your back.

There was a gust of wind that ruffled your hair, and you knew he had run away.

You lifted the note up, mind empty, still processing everything he had rambled to you, and started carefully unfolding it.

It was one of his previously mentioned "Do you like me?" notes.

You willed yourself not to straight-up giggle like a 12-year-old at his note. It was messily written, and clearly on the back of a mission briefing.

Shit, you didn't have a pen. You looked under the couch cushions but there was no form of a writing utensil in sight! The audacity.

You knew Peter well enough to know that he was probably not too far away, waiting for the result of his question and trying not to spy.

"Hey... uh... Peter? I don't have a pen."

Peter hit his forehead with his hand, where the fuck was he going to get a pen? It's not like he owned pens that were actually in a designated spot! How ridiculous would that be, who did he look like, Charles? Charles! Charles has pens in designated pen places!

So Peter ran into the headmaster's office and found a pen. He wrote a small note stating that he borrowed a pen and that he would return it. Looking at the note Peter found it did not fully encapsulate the desperate need for the pen. The note ended up something like this:

Hey Charles! It's Peter! I took borrowed a pen because a very serious situation manner situation has arised. arisen. From, Peter. You can't get mad at me because if you could legally marry my dad you would be married and I would basically be your step son! Thanks half dad!

He thought the addition of the 'step' in stepson effectively hid the fact that Charles was a father figure of his. What was he doing here again? The serious manner!

In an instant of you telling Peter that you did not have a pen, one appeared.

"Thank you!"

You checked the yes box, but had a want to write something adorable. You couldn't think of anything so you just wrote "This was weird." under your checkmark. Well played.

You entertained the idea of resuming your movie but decided against it, you thought it would be more dramatic if you left the room.

The minute you made your exit Peter sprinted into the room. He opened your note, jumped, pumped his fist in the air, realized that was nerdy, and tried to make a cool pose to recover.

Now he just had to figure out how the fuck he was going to ask you out.

[bbykpoper]

𝕭𝖚𝖗𝖓𝖙 𝕮𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘🕯️

Inspired by this post 🍂

Pairing: witch!changbin x witch!reader

Song recomendation: Cold Cold Cold by Cage The Elephant

Index: Jisung // Chan // Minho // Hyunjin // Jeongin // Felix // Seungmin

WARNING (18+): this chapter contains explicit sexual content up ahead, read at your own discretion!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭ 。.・

A soft flicker hung above Changbin as he walked back towards his home, both hands holding bags he and Chan had picked up from the grocery store. His friend walked beside him talking on end about some new music he just magically figured out (Changbin would never tell him that it wasn’t a coincidence he found this new inspiration), while the only thing he could focus on were the flickering street lights. Something wasn’t right about them, and it made the hairs on his neck stand straight.

“Are you okay?” Chan asked as he too now noticed the lights. “What’s up with the lights? They’re weird.”

“I don’t know.” Changbin said, looking around and noticing how the lights seemed to flicker worse than his altar candles. “But I don’t like it.”

“Interesting.” A voice echoed out. “You seem to bare no hate towards this human.” Chan shivered when he felt a slight touch on his neck. “Now why is that witchling?” 

Changbin had to hold his breath in at the sight before him. Violet eyes, deep like that of an amethyst stone, observed Chan from a close proximity as long lucious locks of dark hair fell in waves down the slender body of black. That piercing gaze turned its attention to him then and Changbin couldn’t fully come to terms with the situations.

“You’re the one that’s flickering the street lights.” He announced.

“Intuitive.” The giggle seemed to be childish even though the woman standing in front of him was anything but a child. “I like that witchling. You show promise.”

“Stop calling me a witchling.” He seethed out. 

“To me you are a witchling. You still haven’t crossed your hundreth year of practice.” The woman laughed. “I am still intrigued that you play with humans. Our kind tends to detest them.”

“Changbin...” Chan whispered in uncomfort as the woman didn’t back off.

“Do you mind backing off.” Changbin said harshly, earning a raised eyebrow from the woman.

“You have no maners do you witchling.” She sighed and took a step back. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to hurt your human.” Her eyes narrowed in mirth as she looked at him. “I don’t like to meddle in others practices.”

“Who the hell even are you?” He was loosing patience with this conversation. For fucks sake he didn’t even know this woman and she was all up in his business and plain out rude to his friend.

“Y/N.” She simply stated and went around him, going down the street in the opposite direction than them. “I’ll see you around witchling.”

“I AM NOT A WITCHLING!” He yelled out but it seemed to be yelled out into the wind, as no one was behind them.

“What the fuck?” Chan whispered out and looked at his friend.

“What the fuck indeed.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭ 。.・

“So what you’re saying is a weird woman showed up as if she knew Binnie?” Felix asked as he kept stuffing his face with food. “I mean how is that unusual? Have you met yourself Changbin?”

“She’s a witch. Like me.” He sighed. “The only other witches I know in this town are from the coven I’m part of.”

“Well have you asked JB who she is?” Minho spoke softly. 

“Not yet. I was going to after tomorrow’s lectures.” He sighed. “It buggs me. I’ve never met someone who can flicker lights with their will. Electricity can’t be controlled. Even Jaebeom has a hard time with it.”

“There’s no point in pondering about this right now.” Felix sighed, taking a mouthfull of food once more. “We should worry about Chan’s stress cooking. I can’t keep eating more.”

The boys laughed and went in to the kitchen to calm the cooking frenzy down. Changbin on the other hand went up to his room and sat facing the window and the outside world. The darkness of the early autumn washed over the streets as the trees swayed in the night. It bugged him to no end. The whole situation from his little grocery run.

Who was this y/n? Why was she here? And how the hell did she know who he was? I mean technically she didn’t know him, but she knew he was a newbie. Far less experienced than most of his coven. The thoughts kept swimminin in his mind without end.

-

Im Jaebeom was a senior at the college Changbin attended and also the leader of the little coven on campus which held together so that the witches wouldn’t feel out of place among the humans. He waited for Changbin outside of his lecture hall, his phone in hand and eyes cast down on it.

“Please tell me I’m allowed to hex Professor Kim.” Changbin whined. 

“As much as I want to, I can’t allow it.” Jaebeom laughed. “How you been Changbin?”

“Good. Until this random ass witch shows up and scares Chan half dead, flickers the street lights as if they were nothing and calls me a witchling.” He rambled on as they walked towards the coffee house next to campus. “I’m rambling aren’t I?”

“A little bit, but I do understand why.” They took a seat and ordered their drinks. “Did this witch tell you her name?”

“Y/N. She had these striking violet eyes and dark hair. She was also wearing a black lace dress.” He sighed. “I really don’t know who she is. But she pissed me off.”

“She has that effect on people.” Jaebeom laughed. “Y/N is an ancient witch. You could call her a crone, even though she is still young to enter that fraction. The last time she showed up here she was burned at the stake and vowed to curse the people who burned her.” He looked up at the boy across the table. “She didn’t mean anything bad by her words, she just doesn’t exactly know how to socialize these days.”

“How do you know all this?” Changbin furrowed his eyebrows. 

“She’s my ancestor. On my mother’s side.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I basically lost sight of her last night and she wandered away. Sorry about that.”

“It’s... fine...” He said blinking rapidly. “Your ancestor? How old is she?”

“I stopped counting when I hit 300.” A voice sounded beside them and Changbin was met with those piercing violet eyes. “I think your mom still follows that.” 

“Is that burnt fudge?” Jaebeom asked.

“Yeah, I like these. They remind of the time I was burned at the stake.” 

“So you can make jokes now?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No.” She chewed on the candy. “It’s called sarcasm little crow.” Her gaze then went back to Changbin who was dumbstruck at her appearance and demanour. “How is your human doing?”

“He’s shaken up.” He answered, narrowing his gaze at her. “You scared him quite well.”

“Too bad, he looked quite cute to be honest.” She shrugged her shoulders with that comment, something stirring badly in Changbin’s gut. “Anyways, I was told to invite you and your human-” 

“Friend.” Jaebeom stepped in and got a glare out of you.

“-friend.” She gritted out. “To dinner as an apology for last night. It was not my intention to scare you. I just couldn’t comprehend the fact that a witch was friends with a human.”

“JB is friends with humans.” Changbin’s eye twitched.

“That doesn’t mean I approve.” She said. “Dinner will be at 7 p.m.” And with that she left, her dress swaying in the wind.

“Sorry. As I said, her social skills are practically nonexistent...”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭ 。.・

“This is very tasty! I’ve never had roast beef like this!” Chan exclaimed excited as he sat at the table of Jaebeom’s home. “You’re an excellent cook y/n.”

“Thank you.” You answered as you quietly ate next to your little cousin, not really liking the fact that he was here. 

“Ah, before I forget.” He mumbled and pulled out a container filled with candy. “These are for you. Changbin said you liked burnt fudge so I did burn them a little bit but not too much.” He placed them on the table before your wide eyes. “I hope you like them.” 

“I appreciate it.” You softly said and took the sweets, watching the container silently. 

The rest of the night went by nicely and you managed to have a civil conversation with Chan, but Changbin still didn’t like you. Generally just because you kept on calling him a witchling. You just didn’t wish to stop because his reactions amused you. 

“It was nice talking with you y/n.” Chan smiled as he and Changbin were leaving. “Bye.” He waved and you slightly waved back.

“Why didn’t you tell the witchling I’m here to make his friend’s life miserable?” You looked over to the tall boy next to you.

“Chan is not a bad guy. Just because his great something grandfather burned you at the stake doesn’t mean you need to make innocents suffer.” He spoke.

“But they could make my sister and myself burn?” You asked. “I made a vow Jaebeomie, to raise hell in this town until it disappeared. I made a vow to curse the men that accused and burned us.”

“But you didn’t.” He smiled at you, poking your cheek. “You didn’t wreak havoc on this town and you didn’t curse Chan’s father. Because you know very well, that 150 years of making people die has worn you out.” He kept poking her cheek. “Just admit it, you got tired of hating humans and want to go seclude yourself in the forest like the rest of the crones.”

“You have a big mouth on you for our 300 year age difference little crow.” You gritted out, offended that he saw right through you.

“It’s actually 376, but who’s counting.” He chuckled and went back inside. 

Your eyes followed the two receding silhouettes in the distance, noticing how every now and then Changbin looked back to make sure you weren’t following them. You giggled to yourself and decided to go back inside, sending a crow with a little gift towards him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭ 。.・

Chan smiled and waved at you when he found you sitting at a table, drinking tea with Jaebeom. He came over to you two with Changbin in tow who rolled his eyes at you. The shift in your eyebrow was noticed by them all, but nothing was said.

“How are you guys?” Chan took a seat at your table, pulling his younger friend down with him. 

“Enjoying some tea and going over some things.” Jaebeom smiled and then he remembered something. “Right, Changbin you can ask y/n to help you with that spell you were struggling with. Meanwhile Chan, wanna go get more drinks? I need a refill.” 

Both boys stood up and went towards the counter, while you were left with a mean looking Changbin. You sipped on your tea, eyebrows raised, eyes fixed on the boy, waiting for him to speak.

“You won’t ask me for help will you?” You taunted him.

“No.” He said, crossing his arms. 

“At least you’ve taken a liking to Shu.” You giggled as you noticed the small crow you sent after him the other day. 

Changbin looked over to where your violet gaze was focused and turned back at you with shock when he figured out the crow was sent by you.

“You sent Shu?” He asked.

“Jaebeom told me you don’t have a familiar yet, so I offered up one.” You shrugged your shoulders. “He is a young one, just like you. You will learn a lot from each other.”

Changbin was shocked by this turn of events. He was extremely humbled by this gesture and his eyes and facial features softened, a sudden guilt taking over. You kept on silently drinking your tea, gazing at the baby crow in the trees. 

“I can’t manifest enough energy to get this spell working.” He whispered out.

“What’s the spell about?”

“Self-love.” He averted his gaze. 

“Do you have some say, props you use?” You kindly didn’t stop to tease him about the reason for the spell, not really seeing any reason to tease. “Also, where are you doing your spell?”

“Um, I have some stuff but it’s in my room. Basically in my room.” He said.

“You mind if I have a look?”

-

“So, do you think they’re hitting it off?” Chan asked, watching along with JB as they waited for their order.

“We’re not trying to set them up Chan.” He reminded him. “But yeah, I think they are.”

“I’m gonna have a 300 year old witch as his girlfriend, aren’t I?” Chan chuckled when he noticed how Changbin got more than comfortable with you.

“Probably.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭ 。.・

Felix and Minho had to hold back their awe when you walked into the shared home of the eight boys. They greeted you with a soft ‘hello’ and blinked at your presence. Changbin had to hold back his laughter at them but he understood where they came from. I mean even he took a few seconds to ogle at your short, yet elegant lacy black dress. Your hair was braided expertly and you stood awkwardly in the living room until Changbin hadn’t walked you over to his room. 

Well his and Chan’s shared room.

You noticed how two beds were placed in the opposite sides of the room, the left side decorated with some band posters, herbs, jars and a tiny altar in the corner. The right side decorated with some recors, a laptop and a lot of tech you didn’t really understand. 

“Ishtar?“ You raised your eyebrows. “No wonder you cant manifest enough energy for your spell.”

“What do you mean?” Changbin asked confused.

“Ishtar is a sex goddess. Which means the strongest energy you can manifest is through sex magic.” You plopped down on his bed, and he took a seat on one of the chairs near his bed.

“Sex magic?”

“As you masturbate, focus your intention in your mind’s eye.” You began with a simple explanation. “The key is to focus on your breath and connect that breath to your intention as you masturbate. Then, as you orgasm, imagine your intention as a beam of light shooting out the crown of your head and jetting into the cosmos. As you stay in the afterglow, continue connecting to this intention, sending it out into the universe by feeling it throughout your whole body. When you’re done, you're supposed to go ahead and thank yourself and the universe, and at that point, the ceremony is done and your intention has been set.”

“So sex magic works only alone?” He asked, glancing at you with a small pout which didn’t go unnoticed by you. “It can’t be practiced with a partner?”

“Well no, but that’s not typically how it’s practiced, since having someone else present can distract you. Instead of focusing on your intention and connecting to yourself or your personal deitie), you’ll likely find yourself connecting to your partner. This is great for building a relationship essentially but not really for spells. When you practice sex magic with a partner you are merging energy bodies, you are involving their will, and there’s a lot of potential to get messy.”

“But what if I want to involve a partner?” He now asked his eyes becoming bolder.

“If you really want to you’re allowed to.” You laughed. “Your own witchcraft is an open practice. No two withes will do a spell exactly the same.”

“But I’m part of a coven...”

“So? Jaebeom is not a scary leader.” You laughed. “Technically I am part of that coven too, but you guys never even met me. I do my own thing, and you are allowed to do your own thing as well.” You smiled and looked over at the altar where Ishtar’s candle grew it’s flame, satisfied with your little speech. “I think she agrees too.”

Changbin looked over at the altar and softly asked his question. “Is it okay if I do it with a partner?” The candle did a little dance meaning it was happy that Changbin wanted to work with another partner. “Is it okay if it’s y/n?” The flame suddenly became smaller and a few seconds passed before it grew almost catching the hanging herbs on fire.

You both looked at each other and you blinked back your confusion. When did this happen? You clearly noticed how he didn’t have hate or spite in his eyes but something much deeper ran behind them. Lust. Changbin was horny and he was horny for you. 

Throwing caution to the wind, Changbin made a split-second decision to lock his room’s door, which you clearly heard as he stepped forward from his chair, both of his hands landing beside your uncovered thighs. You two were so close that you could make out the details of his face, his pupils dialating and his breath becoming uneven. He smashes his own lips against yours, his actions filled with need and passion. Changbin slightly bites on your bottom lip, looking into your eyes evoking a fire in your violet ones as you took in a deep breath of his scent. 

“Are you sure about this?” You asked him as he literally sat on his knees before you.

“Yeah.” His swollen lips breathed out. “To be honest, I wanted to fuck you the first time I saw you.” He brought his face closer to you. “And it just grew with how much more annoying you became.”

“Good to know.” You smirked. “But I meant are you sure about me being the partner for your ritual?”

“Yes, please.” He grabbed onto your thighs quite harshly. “Just let me enjoy you already...” The whine he let out made you giggle and you kissed him on the mouth. “Fuck...”

He pushes you down on the bed and climbs on over you, his hands slowly going over any type of free flesh you have on display for him. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses down your neck as you writhe against him, hands clinging tightly to his white t-shirt. You whimper when his teeth nip at the tender spot right under your ear, and you can’t help the way your hips go up when Changbin’s tongue brushes against the reddened skin of your neck. You swiftly moved your body so he was now under you, his belt seeming to undo itself.

“That’s hot.” He breathed out as you took off his pants and boxers. “God, that’s really hot.”

You smirk, licking a stripe. He moans, grabbing onto the sheets, desperately trying to grab something as his eyes rolled back in pleasure. You begin to take him in, swirling your tongue around him. He grunts as you hollow your cheeks. The tip of his dick touches the back of your throat, making you gag. He moans this time as he grabs your hair. You hollow out your cheeks, slowly moving back and forth. You feel his member twitch in your mouth, and you knew he was close to finishing. You took this as a chance to move faster, bobbing your head as fast as you could. He groans, panting your name as he used your hair to guide how to move.

Changbin lets out a choked sound when your nose brushes against the skin of his abdomen, and he has to fight the urge to throw his head back in pleasure. He doesn’t want to look away, not even for a moment. Not when you’re looking up at him like that, like your going to eat him whole. It turned him on even more.

He quickly pulled you off him taking a few deep beaths to calm down his uncoming finish, not wanting to cum yet. You smirked at him knowing he was having a hard time calming himself down and he noticed how your eyes twinkled with mischief.

“You better get ready to have that smirk wipped off your face.” He growled out, that sheer sentence making your panties seep with arousal. “Open your mouth for me, beautiful." His gruff voice said, placing his hand on your chin and thumbing your lips apart. "Suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me." You did as he said as he slipped two finger into your mouth. "That should be good enough." He said while pulling the fingers out, saliva dripping from them. A second later, your skirt had been pulled up to your hips. A greedy smile graced his lips as he rubbed the fingers on your panties, the thin material hardly covering anything.

He slipped two of his fingers into your folds, starting to pump gently but speeding up with every thrust. You couldn't suppress moans, pressing your mouth onto his exposed collarbone and leaving a trail of love bites. He soon added another finger to the two he was already using.

"Mmm..." You swore as you could feel your climax already drawing near. He tutted, feeling your walls tighten around his fingers. Immediately, he pulled them out and brought them to his own mouth, staring at you straight with those dark eyes. You watched aroused by the way he swirled them in his mouth.

“Dirty little witch.” He teased, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top off him, swiftly disregarding your underwear. “I’m going to give you the ride of your life.”

“You’ll have to make it good, I do have a few hundred years on you.” You kissed him as he brought you down on his ever so eager member.

He kept on pounding into you, gripping your ass for dear lfie, causing you to moan which resulted in growls of pleasure leaking from him too. You were experiencing a type of pleasure you couldn’t exactly comprehend and you bit into his shoulder, trying to keep yourself quiet and controlled. Changbin let his head fall into your bouncing tits, teeth bared against the flesh as he brought his hands to your waist, pulling you up and down on top of his cock. The boy stood, picking you up with him. He had set you down on his bed, admiring your fucked out expression. He pushed your hands above your head, holding your wrists down with one hand as the other one held your waist as he pounded into you.

Changbin went over the edge, biting your thigh to keep his noise contained. As you felt him pulsate within you, you felt your body grow light, thighs shaking and back arching. You came just as he buried himself fully into you, an overloaded experience that lasted for minutes.

Changbin collapsed on top of you, your breaths mingling as you both came off your high. You looked over to the candle on his altar, little cinders burning in their reflection, signaling that Ishtar was satisfied and so was Changbin. You stroked his hair as you felt him shift, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“I wouldn’t mind having this every day.” He said, placing more kisses along your neck.

“Then you better be prepared. I am aiming to become one of the crones.” You giggled letting him slowly pull out of you and bring a blanket over you both. 

“Good. I can’t wait.” He said as a small knock came from the window, Shu motioning to the full moon. “Oh yeah, by the way.” Changbin turned towards you. “Were you the one that had that heated argument with the moon the other day?”

“No.” You blushed furiously in that moment that even your ears burned from embarrassment. He saw you arguing with a fucking glowing ball in the sky?!

“Funny.” He said. “It’s like I saw you, but oh well.”

“Shut up.” You playfully pushed his shoulder and he chuckled at your reaction.

You guys kept making out into the night, Ishtar’s candle ever so bright and happy in the background.

-

Chan stood in front of his room’s door, a sudden redness on his cheeks as he turned to face Felix who was passing by to go to his room. Both looked at each other and Chan just swallowed a lump in his throat.

“Can I crash in your room tonight?” He asked with an overly high pitched voice.

“Sure.” Felix nodded, understanding the hint of uncomfortableness in his tone. “At least she’s not trying to kill you anymore.”

“Yeah.” Chan said. “But they’re still fucking in there.” 

Felix laughed as he and Chan went away from the door, soft muffled moans coming from the room. The older boy felt he’ll need to bleach his room after this night, maybe even sage it to keep it pure. 

That’s what he gets for sharing a room with a witch.

[make-me-imagine]

🐺 13 Days of Halloween: Day 4

Prompts: “Was that a wolf?” “There are no wolves here” 

Requested by: Anonymous, and @bwemph​ like a week later lol

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Gender: Neutral        Words: 1,426

Triggers: None       Genre: Suspense-ish, and some humor. 

Halloween Theme Ranking: 3/10; just some spook. 

Marvel Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney​ Requested Tags: @fictionalhoomanofnowhere​​, @thebookbakery​

Notes: The time-line is kind of based on the upcoming Winter Solder and Falcon series. 

If you’d like to check out 2019 and 2018′s 13 Days of Halloween, as well as my 2017 general Halloween/Fall stuff here are the links: x2017x, x2018x & x2019x

You groaned slightly as you stretched out your arm. “Are you alright?” Bucky asked, slight concern in his voice as he walked in pace next to you.

“Yeah, just pulled my arm in the fight, might have sprained my shoulder” 

“We’ll get it looked at when we get back” he suggested as he looked around the trees on either side of you.

Having just finished a mission, you and Bucky were heading through the woods you entered through, to get to the compound of a possible dangerous organization, you came here to hunt down. Now you and Bucky were walking back through the woods towards the truck you came in, hoping to meet Sam there on the way, having split up earlier.

“Have you decided if you are going to Tony’s Halloween party?” you asked casually as your’s and Bucky’s shoulders bushed as you walked together.

Neither of you were quite sure why you were walking so close together. Maybe it was because you were walking down a path in creepy dark woods at night, or maybe it was that you were comfortable and safe together. Or maybe it was both? Yeah, probably both. 

“No, I’m not sure if I want to be surrounded by that many drunk people.” You chuckled lightly at his response, earning a side-glance at you as Bucky smiled lightly “Are you going?”

You thought for a second “I think so. I’m not doing anything else, and I do enjoy dressing up in costumes”

Bucky thought to himself for a moment “Then maybe I will go, if you are.”

You looked at each other, you smiled at him, your heart racing a little more than before, as was Bucky’s.

Opening your mouth to speak, you stopped, hearing a rustling in the distance, something far away, but a decent size. You and Bucky both froze in your spot, Bucky taking a step forward, and slightly in front of you, in a protective manner.

Your hand rested on the hilt of your gun as your eyes grazed over the treeline, wondering if one of the organizations men escaped your arrest. 

Suddenly, from the depths of the woods, a deep howl began to grow, beginning softly and deepening, echoing through the woods and deep into the core of your body. The sound was guttural, almost angry, predatory.

As the howl grew quieter and faded, you realized you had stopping breathing, having held your breath in anticipation and shock. Letting out a breath, Bucky spoke quietly “Was that a wolf?” his voice was anxious and confused.

You shook your head in disbelief “There are no wolves here” 

Bucky looked back at you “Then what else could it have been?” You met his eyes, only being able to shrug your shoulders. “Let’s keep heading towards the truck” he said, his hand gently grabbing your arm as he led you back towards the path.

As you continued to walk, now with an air of suspense, you walked quieter “Even if it is somehow a wolf, we can take it”

He nodded “Yeah, we can” 

There was a moment of silence “Then why can’t I get rid of this feeling that it’s something more, and worse?” your voice was quiet, but full of anxiety.

Bucky stopped, turning to you, bringing his hand up, he rested it on your shoulder as he looked into your eyes “I'll be honest, I feel it too, but whatever it is, we’ll be fine. I promise you that.”

You took comfort in his words and reassurance, knowing that his presence alone does make you feel better. You nodded your head and smiled lightly at him. But before you could fully relax, your eyes caught on something just behind Bucky in the edge of the woods.

Bucky saw the way your eyes fixated on something before your face dropped. Quickly spinning around, he grabbed his gun, not pointing it at the area but watching to see what you saw. 

You whispered “I saw something red reflecting just behind the tree line, and something big move behind the brush” 

He nodded, remaining silent, his arm placed out behind him stretched in front of you as if to stop anything from reaching you. You both take a step closer to the treeline, knowing something was there.

The tension began to build, neither of you knowing what to expect as you approached the treeline. Suddenly, in the span of a second, something large jumped out of the bushes nearby, paired with a loud yell. 

You ad Bucky both turned in shock, raising your guns in defense. 

“Woah woah!” the figure yelled, followed by laughter.

You and Bucky, upon realization put our guns down with sighs of frustrated relief. “Sam, what the hell do you think your playing at?” Bucky asked, clearly annoyed.

Sam walked closer “Man you guys should have seen your face’s” he laughed as he clapped your hands “Had you guys on the ropes huh?”

“I really hate you sometimes Sam” you said, trying to resist the smile that was tugging at your lips.

He continued to grin as he walked up to you guys “You’re lucky we didn’t shoot you” Bucky commented as he glared at Sam.

Sam chuckled “Yeah, yeah, now come on, lets get out of here” turning, he began walking down the path towards the truck.

You and Bucky looked at each other, sharing a look of disdain, humor and relief “I guess we were right, it was something else”

Bucky smiled lightly at you as you both turned to follow Sam. Your curiosity piqued, “Sam, how the hell did you get so good at wolf calls?” 

Sam stopped, turning to you “What?” 

“You know, the howl, it was really convincing” Bucky commented.

Sam just stared at the two of you in confusion “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You and Bucky glanced at each other “Come on Sam, that was you earlier, the howl, and then you snuck up on us to scare us” you spoke, as if tying to convince him and yourself.

Sam looked between the two of you “I just got here from the compound, all I did was the jump out of the woods scare thing, I didn’t howl like no damn wolf”

“Sam, stop joking around” Bucky said

“Look dude, I’m not jo-”

Sam’s sentence was cut off by a sudden deep howl coming from the woods again, this time, deeper, more predatory, and closer. 

All three of you looked in the direction of the howl, your voice came out low and scared “I guess it really wasn’t Sam”

Sam‘s eyes were wide as he realized you two weren’t joking around with him either. Hearing a loud noise in the woods, something seemingly bigger than a normal wolf moving around, crushing what sounded like large tree branches.

You instinctively reached out, grabbing Bucky’s wrist in fear. None of you could understand why you were so afraid. You’d all fought aliens and monsters, so why was this so different? It felt like something deep inside of all of you was telling you, you couldn’t handle knowing what was in the woods. That it wasn’t supposed to be there, and neither were you.

“I- I think we should head to the truck” Sam stuttered out, his own fear taking over as the sound in the woods grew closer.

The truck was in view now, just down a small hill “Sounds like a plan” you muttered out.

Another howl began to roll out of the woods, closer, louder. So loud is seemed to send a vibration through your body. Bucky pulled you along, all three of you racing to the truck. As you jumped into the car, Sam started the truck and drove away without a second thought.

As you pulled out onto a road, and away from the woods, you and Bucky looked back through the window, both of you clearly seeing a large black figure at the edge of the woods, and large glowing eyes. 

Looking at each other, and then back at the woods, you were almost not surprised to see the figure and eyes were gone. Feeling a squeeze of your hand, you realized that Bucky had grabbed your hand. Looking at him, you both seemed to silently agree that you escaped something bad.

And all three of you shared the silent thought and curiosity that comes with mystery. All three of you wanting to come back at a later date, during the day, to figure out what the hell you just escaped. 

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