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totothewolff · 6 months ago

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Chemtrails Over the Yacht Club Collection 18+ | Toto Wolff x reader, age gap, smut operator, clear daddy issues (this fic is inspired by Lana del Rey, duh), and yacht culture.

Summary: Toto Wolff is a name often mentioned at the Yacht Club, where you work after classes. For some reason, you have always pictured him as an old crank like the usual members, not this foxy man who arrives at the reception making your knees quiver. The entire staff goes frenetic as he, one of the Club's most important clients, chooses to spend his spring break there without previous notice. You pray to the Gods that you don't cross lines with him since your entire livehood depends on this job, and you really want to graduate college. Author's note: This was supposed to be a one-shot but was way too long, so I split it into two chapters. I hope you enjoy them. By the way, this version of Toto has questionable morals.

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2 - Breaking up slowly

As Mr. Holst's gateway yacht trip reaches an end, you follow protocol and deliver Toto the guest's satisfaction survey before docking in the Club's harbor.

It's supposed to be confidential and private for the guest. Still, Toto reads you the questions and tells you his answer as he writes them, evaluating you while you sit on his lap in his cabin armchair.

"Any complaints or suggestions, please elaborate," he reads you. "Yes. Y/N's skirts should have been shorter. They don't do justice to that ass," he jokes as you blush, still in awe of him.

He squeezes your ass cheek and gives you a hard slap leaving a red mark, instantly turning you on.

"Fuck me, daddy" you beg him against his lips, already placing you on top of him.

Your clothes hit the ground.

You aren't sure if the waves are rocking the hull that hard or if it's Toto's powerful thrust as he fucks you relentlessly, firm grip on your hips, fingertips pressuring on your skin.

The guests enjoy the yacht's amenities till the last minute before docking in the harbor of the Yacht Club.

The crew and you are all but busy, going everywhere, attending to guests, and running safety checks and protocols.

You attend to Toto's daily demands as he peacefully sunbathes before going to his cabin to change outfits. His tan skin makes him look even more handsome.

You overheard him telling the person on the other end of the call that he was going to a meeting downtown.

He'll be gone the entire day and the whole of your shift. At least a bit of a break for you!

These past few days have been a dream but tiresome.

As the sailing master safely and perfectly anchors the yacht in the harbor, the guests start to descend the ship. A small committee of girls with beverages and canapes welcomes them.

The only people remaining onboard the ship's deck are Toto and you; he wanted to go last.

As you two casually talk, he pulls out an envelope from the insides of his blue blazer and offers it with his hand for you to grab it.

"Sorry, what is this?!" you ask, looking at the rectangular yellow envelope.

"It's a brick of money, isn't it?" you think.

"Your tip," he confirms your thoughts.

"But that is excessive. No way I'm accepting it."

"Do so," he sounds authoritarian as usual. "'It's going to help you with that fine."

"Oh, hey, listen, I will make it, don't worry about it."

"Y/N," he sounds serious, his eyes looking straight at you. He is a very kind and sweet person on the inside. Still, on the outside, he is always cold, stony-looking, demanding, and impossibly hot. "Take it," he enunciates, his controlling trait displaying.

You have noticed, just by being by his side all these days, the pull and effect he has on people and still holds on to you. He is someone you want to impress, to win his approval and have his attention.

"What do you think this is "Pretty Woman"? Calm down, Richard Gere!" you dare to joke to change the mood a bit.

"Aren't you too young to know that reference?" he still answers sternly.

"I live with the rom-com connoisseur, aka my aunt." you smile brightly at him.

Toto has avoided stepping onto personal life terrains, wanting to remain far apart.

"Last time I offer it, take it. You need it. Besides, it's not like you are going to buy a Kelly bag with it; it's for your tuition."

"A what?!" you think. "Wait! How does he know that? I don't remember mentioning that to him."

"Thank you, but I prefer to maintain our relationship non-monetarian." you stand your ground.

"Our relationship?" Toto thinks.

He places the envelope back into his inside pocket as he said he would and steps off without looking back at you, moving along with his day.

"Welcome back to land," Chloé greets you the next day as you clip your radio on your belt in the staff locker room. You're getting ready for another shift before hugging her.

"I'm impressed! I must admit. You almost, ALMOST, achieved it! You got a really good-rate review on the satisfaction chart from Mr. Wolff, something I've never seen before." Then, she makes a dramatic pause.

Only if she knew...

Before continuing: "But not so with Mr. Elrod. He placed a formal complaint since, according to him, your incident with him was life-threatening."

"OH COME ON! He barely swoll!" You look annoyed and want to smash the locker with your fist.

"I know, I checked. Still, I'm really proud of you! But Raphaël called you to his office, so please go there now."

Oh God, you hate going up there!

You arm yourself with patience while climbing the swirling stairs to the upper floor of the management wing of the building, where the big names' offices are.

He makes you wait for a long time. The fucker knows the long wait it's going to delay your chores and make you leave work late. Until his assistant informs you from her chair at the front desk that you can go in.

You open the large glass door into the Assistant General Manager's office with a speech already prepared in your mind in case of the worst.

Raphaël is leaning back on his enormous executive leather chair and massive desk that screams small dick energy, looking sternly at you.

Raphaël is a very posh, solemn, and wealthy fucker who is besties with Mr. Holst and his entire family and extended family, a textbook social climber.

A very uptight asshole. Raphaël chose to dislike you from the moment you set foot at the Club; he tries to get you fired at any given chance.

Most of the girls who work there are beautiful and come from an obvious upper class; most are daughters, nieces, or granddaughters of...

The Yacht Club is where the rich teach their kids a lesson on the value of work or use it as a perfect excuse to kick them out of the house for a few hours.

Usually, they get hired because daddy made a call, and you are none of that.

"Ah, good morning," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I see you're still here. I'm surprised you didn't quit on the spot after that dangerous incident."

You take a deep breath and try to keep your cool. "Good morning, Raphaël. I'm still here because I'm committed to doing my job to the best of my ability and finding a solution to the problem rather than blaming myself."

Raphaël snorts. "You're the one who caused the problem, sweetheart. You're always causing problems. You're a liability to this company."

You feel angry at his words, but you keep your composure. "I understand you're upset, but I'm trying my best."

Raphaël swings a bit in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "You're just a silly girl who doesn't know how to do her job. You're lucky I'm even giving you a final and last chance to prove yourself."

You feel a lump form in your throat. "I understand you don't think highly of me, but I'm trying to do my best; I have learned fast and proved myself worthy."

Raphaël laughs a cold, cruel sound. "You're just not cut out for this job, sweetheart. We are the best and need the best on our team."

"I...I don't know what to say," you stutter.

Raphaël leans forward, his eyes glinting with triumph. "Just thank Ava, sweetie, for changing Holst's mind. You're on thin ice, one more mistake, and you're gone. You can leave now," he dismisses you.

"Thank you, I owe you one, I guess," you whisper to Ava for saving your ass as you cross paths with her in the beautiful and perfectly maintained gardens.

"You were kind to me," she says in the same tone as usual, not as friendlier as you would have liked. "I trust you keep our conversation from that day private."

"Pinky promise," you offer her your pinky. She looks at you with an "ugh" expression, rolls her eyes, and walks away. A couple of steps further, she turns to smile at you.

Now you two are best friends for life in your head! IJBOL.

The following two weeks are a swirl of moans as Toto, and you can't keep your hands off each other.

You fuck everywhere private and remote enough, where there are no security cameras.

You can't have enough of his dick and his body. You are so infatuated with him.

Every time he calls in you at his villa, you end up fucking; it doesn't matter how hard you both try to fight the urge to do so.

He has had you against the door, his bedframe, or the room's vanity, on top of the piano and even in the jacuzzi. The sex drive of that fit man is spectacular, and you are young enough to keep its pace.

You have never been so sexually active and free in your life, learning and experiencing many things for the first time. Toto makes the best teacher and lover you have ever had.

By this point, you lost count of how many times you have moaned his name, called him daddy, or the number of times he has made you cum and beg for more.

Your aunt and close friends start to notice your glow. Lately, you look radiant and happy.

She is intrigued to know the reason behind it as you two go to the mall on Sunday.

"FINE. I WILL TELL YOU! I'm dating the most gorgeous, wise, handsome, accomplished, hot guy, AND HE IS SO INTO ME! Can you believe it?!"

"Oh, I can. My niece is great! And where did you meet this adonis, and most importantly, does he have an older brother?"

"He is an older brother!" you want to say but don't.

She doesn't need to know every single detail, not yet. You want to keep it a surprise for when you take Toto home.

"He has a sister," you answer.

"Ah! And what else can you tell me?"

"Well, he is from Austria! I plan to invite him over to have dinner at the apartment so you can meet and ask him all the questions you want. What do you think?"

The look she gives you! You had never taken a single boy to the house. This must be serious, then.

"Has he tasted your cooking yet?" she wonders before answering.

You shake your head.

"Well, if he survives it, then it's true love!" you two laugh as your aunt jokes and links her arm with yours before adding: "Please invite him for dinner. I'd love to meet him, but you know what! Better buy lasagna. We want this to work, right?!"

You love to text Toto sweet and touchy messages throughout the day that hint at how he makes you feel, how much he means to you, and how great it is to be with him.

You are in love.

Yet, you try not to suffocate him or embarrass yourself, still being nervous around him, still wanting his approval.

Toto still intimidates you. Being the powerful and dominant man he is.

You can't believe you snatched him! Lucky girl!

But in your mind, fuck! Wedding bells are already chirping, and future children's name-searching is already happening.

The Yacht Club has a museum/memorabilia section that almost no one visits. It's located far away from the lobby and main guest areas, and for obvious reasons, it has many security cameras.

But next to it, further down the hallway, there's a blind spot on the CCTV system, right in the space of the door to an old phone room.

In this room, the original antic magneto wall set telephone is still mounted on the wall, along with a stern wood chair where people used to chat in private.

You ask Toto to meet you there after he texts you he hasn't seen you today.

Also, you want to inform him that you are going on a "two-day leave" plus the weekend, so you will be away from him for four days.

You don't want to send him mixed signals, and you're getting paranoid that he might think you're running away.

And since you don't want to miss him, maybe he could join you if he wants and feels like it. You know, couple life outside the Club.

A hand-in-hand walk through Monaco's streets sounds nice; a cute date with wine and kisses sounds more than good.

When he closes the door behind him, the place looks ridiculously smaller.

You immediately stand on your tiptoes to kiss him, wrapping your arms around him as you greet him.

You share small, soft kisses for a while.

He sadly tells you he can't join you on your break.

Since he extended his stay, Toto has things scheduled on his agenda that he is supposed to be doing in his office in London.

"But I'm going to miss you, daddy," you pout and give him the biggest Bambi-begging eyes.

"Not even that it's going to work. Try it with my assistant. Thanks for trying tho."

"Where can I meet her?"

He laughs before pulling you into a more intense kiss.

"Should we say goodbye to each other?" he says against your lips, caressing your neck.

"It is crazy how four days felt like nothing before you; now that I have you in my life, it's an eternity."

He holds you closer, pulling you by the waist.

"Then let's make it count enough to stay in each other minds for those days."

"You are permanently on my mind," you confess, burying your face in his shoulder, all red, and not even being able to look at him while feeling the expensive material of his jacket brushing your skin.

Then, your mouth finds his, kissing him hungrily. You push your tongue into his mouth, tangling with his, your hands sliding up the hard planes of his chest, then drifting over his shoulders to find the hem of his shirt.

Your fingers feel his warm skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through him as you trace the contours of his muscles.

The smell of your perfume, jasmine, and vanilla intoxicates him. This scent will remind him of this moment as he passionately claims your mouth.

Slowly, you undress each other, savoring the anticipation. As hands wander over defined abs, curves, and dips, caresses become bold strokes.

The pads of your fingers move lower, exploring the ridges of his abdomen. With a smoldering look, you glance up at Toto, a wicked smile on your lips.

Heat spreads through him as you press yourself against his groin and your bare breasts against his chest. He can feel your heart pounding.

With a soft, playful jerk, you touch his growing excitement. "Eager, daddy?" you ask.

He nods.

You waste no time, and you get down to your knees as you take him into your mouth as he is sitting in the chair. Your warm, wet tongue swirls around him, your head bobbing gently as you work him in and out of your mouth.

His fingers find their way into your soft, silken hair, gripping it gently, urging you on.

His pleasure moans grow as you work your magic, your tongue and lips exploring him for a while.

Slowly, you move up till your lips brush the shell of his ear.

He commands you. "Ride me, now."

You shift your weight, adjusting your position to better align with Toto's cock, and you sink onto him, your pussy fitting itself around his cock like a glove; you feel a jolt of pleasure.

He fills you completely, and you allow yourself a moment to take in the intensity of that feeling, skin against skin.

Your hips begin to sway, moving gently to the rhythm of your shared breathing. With each undulation, the chair beneath you becomes part of the dance.

Toto's hands, which had been resting at his sides, now find their way to your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh as he feels you move against him.

Your breath is warm and soft against his neck as your bodies rock with each movement. You feel your core tighten, your pleasure growing in intensity.

The control Toto wields over the rhythm, and you is intoxicating. Your breathing quickens.

"Faster," he orders you; you moan, obedient and needy. He wants you full force.

You feel the intensity of your coupling, the friction becoming almost unbearable.

You throw your head back mid powerful and intense bounces and cry out, desperate for release.

His hands move to grip your thighs, his fingers applying pressure into your soft flesh as he guides your hips up and down to meet now his intense thrusts, Toto's bucking his hips up now, and your full breasts bounce against his sculpted chest.

Your lips meet in a passionate kiss; tongues entwine at a pace as hungry as the one below your waists.

You tangle your hands in Toto's hair, tugging it gently to urge him for more as you clench your sex around him, drawing out an animalistic groan from deep within him.

"Fuck, yes, Y/N," Toto growls through gritted teeth. He slams his balls into your pussy again and again, driving you both closer to the edge.

Your bodies are all slick with sweat as you shudder atop Toto, releasing a visceral moan with an orgasm radiating from your core and rippling through every nerve in your body, dripping all over his shaft and thighs.

He growls low in his throat, a raw, primal sound that reverberates through the room as he surrenders to his own release.

Every day away, you text him, exchanging photos and moments from both days.

You can't keep away from him.

Upon your return, you attend and cheer for Toto, who is participating in the regatta rally.

The sound of seagulls surrounds you, as does the smell of salt water and fresh coffee wafts from the food and beverage stalls, enticing the crowd on the quayside.

As the starting gun fires, a fleet of sleek, high-tech sailboats burst into action, their crews navigating the intricate course set out on the water.

The crowd cheers and chants as the boats round each mark, their helmsmen and women trimming their sails to maximize speed.

As the regatta approaches its climax, the top boats are neck and neck, and Toto and his crew are straining every muscle to gain that precious extra yard.

The tension is palpable as his boat crosses the finish line, and he and his crew leap into celebration as they win the rally.

Meanwhile, champagne corks pop on the quayside, and glasses get raised in a toast to the winners.

The air is filled with conversation as the member's friends and families mingle, congratulating each other on a thrilling day under their giant sun umbrellas and comfy outdoor chairs.

Meanwhile, you remained sitting on the pier under the sun with your crew coworkers by your side, waiting for your guests to return and watching the action unfold on the waters.

All of you girls, legs hanging, white sneakers almost touching the waters beneath you, dress in blue shorts and white polos with the Club's logo patch on the left.

After a while, the sun and the wood surface start to irritate your face and ass, respectively.

You smile brightly at Toto when you spot him reaching closer in the boat, locking eyes with him.

His shirt is all wet, and what is beneath it is showing. You fight the urge to run your hand all over his chest when you reach him after the trophy ceremony.

As you finish setting Toto's regatta equipment back inside the shed in his villa's garden view deck, Léo approaches you, thinking you are alone.

Staring at your bend over the body, eyes on your ass. An excellent view.

Toto watches this from inside. He stepped inside to go shower.

"Y/N!" you turn without flinching, familiar with the voice and happy to hear it.

"Léo! Hi!"

"I missed you, cutie," he says to you, even if you are a girl. Then he welcomes you with a tight hug, pulling you off the ground.

Toto wants to see how the scene unfolds, still without making himself be noticed.

Why is that guy standing that close to you? Doesn't he know personal space?

He watches you two chat, you looking all happy and smiley, telling Léo all about your past days while his eyes burn on you.

Toto catches desire in them, so when Léo places a hand on the shed and around you, Toto steps in.

"Kid," he calls for you. "My drink," he reminds you what he asked you to do next.

"Oh! Yes, sir!" You quickly move to serve Toto's drink. Léo gives him a "those manners!" look, and they share a quick exchange.

At that moment, Toto glimpses at his cook uniform in bright daylight and tells him, "I didn't ask for any food." This is a subtle hint to better leave.

When Toto moves to stand right behind you, you can almost feel his knee in the back of your thigh.

Léo proceeds to leave, sending him a silent fuck you with his eyes.

"Bye, gorgeous! See you around, my girl." Léo addresses you but holds his gaze at Toto as he walks away, looking back.

"Okay..." you think, watching them interact.

"Let's go, kid," he orders you.

"Where?!" you ask as he drags you by the arm, a firm grip on your forearm as he pulls you along.

"Move," he instructs.

Minutes later, the sun warms Toto's back as he expertly maneuvers his jet ski on the waters. Going extremely fast as you hold tight to his body, the jet ski roaring beneath you, surging forward as water sprays behind you.

The salty ocean breeze whips through his dark hair and yours.

A desolate yet inviting small beach appears in the distance as a coast unfolds. Toto gestures to you to the sandy expanse, "There."

You glance at the beach in question and raise your delicate eyebrows. "You brought us here? Why?"

"I have something to make clear." It's all he answers, in a harsh voice, before reaching land.

The waves lap gently against the fine white sands of the isolated coastline. You take a moment to enjoy the sounds of the ocean and the serenity of nature surrounding you.

Your skin and Toto's glisten with sweat, seawater, and sunscreen.

His gaze roams over your body, relishing the breathtaking view. He licks his lips, unable to resist himself any longer.

His eyes are so intense on you that he almost looks angry. Toto's expression dangerously morphs into a lust-filled one.

He leans closer to claim your mouth in a rough, passionate kiss. Parting your lips brusquely, allowing himself to explore and taste your sweetness with his tongue while holding your neck with a stern grip.

His hands move to press your slick body firmly.

Toto then powerfully lifts you from the ground and takes you further into the beach, finally pushing you to the sand and rolling on top of you, feeling your breasts crush against his chest.

He pulls your legs open and places them around his waist, roughly handling you, nails pressing into your skin, and he sighs in pleasure, feeling your warmth pressed against his.

He moves to remove your clothes roughly and quickly, almost tearing your polo shirt; within seconds, you are both naked. "Beautiful," Toto whispers, voice dangerous.

Your eyes flare with desire and curiosity as he has never handled you this rough.

With no hesitation or warning, he pulls his rock-hard length inside you, making you gasp at the sudden move. Toto's voice rasp in your ear, "Only I can fill you up."

You nod eagerly, biting your lower lip.

"Say it," he demands.

"Yes, daddy. Only you can fill me," you whisper, your voice thick with arousal.

Those words send Toto's self-control over the ledge.

He slides into you frenetically, your pussy taking his hard hits with thunderous moist claps. He is fucking you so harshly in such a powerful rhythm you can barely take him.

You bury your nails in the sand surrounding you, grasping. "Daddy!" you moan so loud.

"Fuck, your pussy feels so good," Toto growls, biting down on the curve of your neck.

His thrusts are desperate and animal, and every muscle in his body is rocking. You arch your back, moaning nonstop as Toto keeps hitting that perfect spot deep inside you, relentlessly.

"Daddy! Please," you gasp for air. You can barely take it anymore. "Daddy! I can't." his balls deep thrust keep going. A massive moan escapes your lips.

"Be a nice girl, take this dick good." He commands.

"I-, I-, Daddy, please." Your fingers dig into his shoulders, urging him to let you catch your breath.

"You are only mine to have." Toto's mouth claims yours, swallowing your moans.

"This pussy is all yours!" you are barely able to say, shaking violently under his strong jabs.

"Again," his dick slams you harder.

"I'm only yours!" you scream in an orgasm, breathing real loud.

"Again," he slams you with his dick again.

Your whimpers grow louder.

"I'm yours, daddy!"

The feeling of his raw masculinity taking you over, dominating you entirely, sends ripples of need through your core.

Each drive of his hips is a powerful claim, a branding that declares you his.

"Good girl, now it's clear." He kisses your lips softly and licks them, running his wet tongue all over them.

With one final thrust, he buries himself as deep inside you, feeling you clench and pulse around him as you cry out.

Toto's body shudders with the force of his release. You stay there, panting and covered in sweat and sand as the waves crash upon the shore, matching the rhythm of your breathing.

Toto stays inside you, wanting to remain close for a little longer. He places soft and sweet kisses all over your face, now tenderly caressing you. His soft touch is all over you.

He collapses in exhaustion next to your side. The two of you are naked with your backs to the sand and facing the sky, feeling the sun's warm rays on your skin.

You can't help but smile as you look over at Toto, lying beside you with his muscular chest heaving up and down.

"We're quite a mess," you chuckle, gesturing to the sand and fluids that cover your bodies.

Toto laughs, "Nothing that a quick rinse can't fix."

He watches you stand up, brush the sand off your ass, and sprint towards the ocean.

Toto follows you, admiring your naked figure and the way your ass moves as you stride.

You dip your toes into the water, squealing as a wave crashes over your feet. Toto comes up behind you, planning to plunge you into the water, so you playfully run from him.

He catches and kisses you before lifting you in his arms and bringing you inside the water with him.

He admires your ability to be open-minded, fun, and fearless in pursuing new experiences, especially those involving him.

A call bell coming from Toto's living room makes you speed there. Your chores today were so fucking tedious; by this point, you have like four good hours inside the china's closet.

As soon as you enter, he informs you, "Kid, I need my things packed by 2 p.m."

"You are leaving?!!" That sounded more desperate than you expected.

"I need to fly to sign papers in my London office. I will return on Thursday, just in time for Holst's Casablanca-themed birthday party."

Oh, yeah, next week is going to be crazy. A fucking colossal gala it's going to take place at the Club's gardens.

When the elevator doors to Toto's office slide open, a burst of energy and femininity floods the room as the most stunning woman enters.

Toto's office is on the top floor of a sleek, modern skyscraper, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering an unobstructed panorama of the bustling London's metropolis.

Her impossible curves seem to have been crafted by the gods themselves.

Her long, dark, sleek hair cascades down her back, framing her heart-shaped face and highlighting her stunning eyes.

With her full lips in a deep shade of red, she moves with a confident stride, her high heels clicking on the floor as she makes her way to Toto's desk.

Her toned and shapely legs seem to go on forever. She is supermodel tall, and the way she moves her hips is enough to weaken any man in the knees.

Irina sits in one of the expensive designer chairs in front of Toto's trendy clear glass desk. Her fitted dress hugs her curves in all the right places.

Her shoulders are bare, and the gentle swell of her breasts seems to strain against the fabric.

Her hands are long and elegant, and she has a massive diamond ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.

As she leans back in the chair, her hair bounces against her shoulders, releasing a faint scent of perfume.

Looking busy behind his desk, Toto can't help but look up from his papers, his eyes locking onto hers with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

Toto's iPhone buzzes on his desk surface as Irina moves to get comfy on the expensive velvet sofa by the wall after a good chat and a successful exchange on Irina's part.

Reminding Toto of his responsibilities in life.

He picks it up to open your chat.

"Since it's our first month anniversary and you are away. I had more time to prepare a gift for you." you text Toto.

He watches a photo loading on your conversation.

A photo of a completely naked you arrive, standing back to the camera behind a see-through light fabric curtain that looks like and is the one in his bedroom at his villa.

Your shoulders, back, and ass are on full display, your silhouette looking delicious to him; you are posing with your arms up, both placed on your head, and your hair is in a bun.

No face, just body, in a contrast of light.

Toto feels like jerking off to that photo when a second one arrives.

It's a close-up photo of your breast; you are laying on his bed in the villa, again with light fabric on top of your tits, nipples hard, looking ready for him to bite them: no face or more body below your waist on this one.

"What a masterpiece," he replies. "But who took them? It's that my villa? How did you manage?"

"A dear friend of mine takes boudoir photos. I lied to Chloé and told her the photographer came for a photo session appointment with the guests I'm serving during your leave."

"An that dear friend is?" instantly possesive.

"Anne, a girl friend from college, she is an art major," you quickly reply.

"They should hang them in a museum."

You feel so proud of yourself for making him react like that. God, you miss him.

"Hey, kid, you are home?" he looks at his Rolex, running calculous.

"Yes"

"Do me a favor then."

"Sure!"

"Touch yourself till you cum, and moan my name loud." you get wet, reading the text.

"Would you do the same, daddy?"

"Yes."

Irina wonders who makes him smile like that.

As you prepare everything at Toto's villa for his return, along with Chloé, you dare to ask her a question and discuss a topic you have been dreading for so long.

"Does Mr. Wolff have a leave date?" you gain the courage.

"He already overextended his stay, which is rare, as rare as him showing up unexpectedly as he did. Mr. Wolff is one of those people who schedules everything in advance and always informs us months before, so something must have happened." She reaches out to you to help you place the fresh sheets on his bed.

"So, no date?" you ask again.

"You grew tired of him already?" Chloé looks straight at you.

"OH. NO, NO. I'm just curious," you quickly add, waving your hands.

"No date, child"

Is he staying for you? You wonder in your head.

You two have never talked about your future.

Toto leaving without you has become your biggest fear in life, like ever.

The night is fully set over the sea, and the Club's grounds are set by the strumming of a Moroccan guitar, which sets the tone for the true extravaganza about to happen.

You see Ava fixing Mr. Holst's bowtie as he prepares for his grand entrance.

The Club's gardens transformed into a Moroccan oasis, and the towering palm trees were now adorned with twinkling fairy lights.

The crowd erupts into applause as Mr. Holst enters, resplendent in a tailored white suit and sunglasses, à la Rick Blaine, escorted by a troupe of really hot and barely dressed female dancers, who performed a mesmerizing choreographed routine to the iconic tunes of "As Time Goes By."

The tables are set with fine china and crystal glassware, adorned with candles and a sumptuous spread of Moroccan delicacies, including tagines, couscous, and fragrant pastries.

The aroma of exotic spices wafts through the air.

Meanwhile, at the bar where you are currently working, the mixologists are shaking (not stirring) up signature cocktails inspired by the classic film's iconic characters. The "Ilsa," a refreshing blend of gin, lemon, and mint, is a particular hit among the guests.

The place is packed with wealthy people from around the globe, all friends of Mr. Holst and his wife, and the bar is the busiest spot.

You are so busy that you haven't even had a chance to look for Toto. He must be somewhere looking all handsome in a classic tuxedo! Gosh, you die to see him and kiss him.

Then, Mr. Holst takes center stage once more, surrounded by his wife and children. With a heartfelt speech, he starts the party.

As midnight approaches, a massive three-tier cake held by two big guys enters in the old style, and everyone sings Happy Birthday to Mr. Holst as fireworks light up the night sky!

The crowd cheers and oohs as sparks rain down upon them.

Then, you have your first break of the night. Some of your coworkers at recess get dinner, light a cigar, or just sit down in the crew's hidden section. It's been crazy!

You use the opportunity to text Toto: "Hi, my love. Where are you? I want to see your handsomeness in a tux. Daddy, I miss you so much."

As a tipsy Toto is laughing and drinking with Holst and his wife when the couple reaches the table where he is, Irina picks up his phone, buzzing on the table.

She reads the text you sent him and chunks of your conversation.

"Who the fuck is "Kid"?!"

She then starts looking at the photos you shared, fuming, especially when she finds the ones from the boudoir photo session you took for Toto.

Oh, no, baby! Her wedding with Toto is happening, yes or yes, and she will not allow you to interfere!

Toto will not slip away from her! Not now, she got him back at the palm of her hand and into his senses!

It worked wonders to give him that bit of a break after he got cold feet and had second thoughts about committing himself to her.

No one touches what is hers, and she is about to teach you a lesson!

Now that she knows your face, it is just a matter of time before she finds you there.

Apparently, you work here.

You are navigating through the crowded party, surrounded by the thumping music and the hums of conversations because your boss asked you to move to attend a special guests table.

As you walk there, you feel a pair of eyes burning into your skin. The hottest woman you have ever seen is staring intensely at you.

It turns out to be the table where Raphaël parents are. So, to your misfortune, he is also around, adding an extra stress layer to your night as he behaves demanding and pays attention to your every action.

As the night progresses, you feel unsure if you are being paranoid or that woman has been watching you for a long time, her gaze flicking from a phone to you again.

Mr. Holst greets you, and you congratulate him on his birthday; he sits to chat with Raphaël's elderly mom.

The hot woman suddenly swoops in, her long legs striding across the room to you.

Her eyes flash with anger as she grabs your arm, her nails digging into your skin. "You think you're so special, don't you?" she hisses, her voice low and venomous, taking you completely by surprise.

You try to shake her off, not knowing what the fuck is happening! But she's too strong.

She pulls you closer, her face inches from yours. "You're nothing but a foolish little fling to Toto," she sneers really loud for everyone at the table to hear.

You start to feel all eyes on you as she causes a scene.

"This means nothing to him! You are just an entertainment." she continues.

You feel a surge of embarrassment as you realize what's happening.

Toto looks at you two, his eyes wide with surprise, but he doesn't intervene. Your bosses are standing nearby, their faces frozen in shock.

Irina shows you the stunning diamond ring on her hand and holds it up for everyone to see.

The table you attend falls silent, and all eyes are on you. Humiliation hits you as you realize the scope of what's happening.

"You think you can just waltz in here and steal my man? Toto is marrying me," she says again, her voice dripping angrily. "Me! Stay the fuck away!"

Irina flings back into the crowd, her words echoing in your mind.

You feel tears stinging in your eyes as you turn to flee the party.

"Don't even bother to come back. You are fired." Raphaël addresses you, firing you in the spot, catching you preparing to leave, his gaze burning with triumph and victory.

The sounds of laughter and music fade into the distance as you stumble into the night air, your heart heavy with sorrow.

Léo and Chloé look astonished as they watch you leave after witnessing the show Irina put on.

Your heels are hitting the floor faster, and the trail of your fitted gorgeous gala dress sways behind you.

You know that you will never be able to show your face at this place again and that no one will ever look at you in the same way after this.

God, you are so mad at Toto and even more heartbroken!

A loud knock comes at the door; maybe your aunt left work early. "Coming!" you look like a mess with swollen eyes from all the crying and feeling like shit and heartbroken, destroyed, dusted, you name it.

Toto's tall figure greets you when you open the door.

"How yo-?!" you look at him, eyes filling with anger and tears again.

"Ava," he interrupts you. "She got your address and sent me in a car here."

He reads your intention to close the door to his face and stops it firmly with his muscular arm.

Toto invites himself into your apartment. Standing beside the worn-out cupboard, he looks out of place, especially in that expensive tuxedo.

Gosh, he looks so dreamy, fuck him!

"Irina was completely wrong. You are not entertainment; what happened with us was real; you are important to me, more than you imagine." He goes straight to the point, not wasting time making things clear.

You feel a couple of tears run down your eyes. Lots of emotions for just one night.

He reaches closer to wipe them with his fingers. "I shouldn't have allowed Irina to talk to you that way and embarrassed you. Please forgive me. For all. We were on a time off when I met you."

"Irina? You thought that was his sister. You heard Holst asking him about her at brunch, along with his mom," You stupid girl!

"I called off the engagement for good." He looks straight at you and closes the steps between you.

"You did?!" and you die to add the "for me," but you contain.

"Do you still want me?" he asks, leaning closer to your lips, his breath brushing your mouth.

"Yes," a beg escapes your lips.

Toto is there to apologize for the hurt he caused. He wants to reach for you, to hold you close, but he doesn't know where to begin. So, instead, he does the only thing that feels right at that moment.

His lips find yours in a tender kiss, at first gentle but exploring, as if trying to find his way home.

You respond with a soft sigh, and your hands roam over his back, muscles reacting to your gentle touch.

Your mouths open to each other in a deep, consuming kiss, tongues darting and twisting, exploring every spot of the other's mouth.

Before any of you knows what is going on, you stumble your way towards the bed, Toto's hands finding the hem of your short nightgown, pulling it up and over your head, revealing your naked body.

The sight of your bare skin is enough to take his breath away.

Toto's fingers trace the curves of your breasts, thumbs flicking at your stiffening nipples as you gasp and arch into his touch.

God, you always feel so good.

"Fuck," he mutters, bending his head to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. The taste of your nipple is intoxicating, and he moans in pleasure as his lips close around you.

Toto's mouth works its magic on each flick of his tongue and grazes of his teeth; you get wetter, your arousal building up.

Then his fingers find your folds, slick with need, and he spreads you open, fingering that pussy he very much loves.

He groans at the contact, his cock throbbing in response. He needs to be inside you. He needs to lose himself in you.

Clothes go out of the way.

Toto looks up at you, asking for consent, and with one swift motion, he enters you, his cock sliding into your wet, welcoming heat. You gasp as he fills you, your body adjusting to his size.

He doesn't move yet. He gives you time to get used to him. His eyes never leave yours as he waits, his breath hot against your skin. The anticipation is unbearable, and you rock your hips against him, urging him to move.

Toto growls, low and deep in his throat, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you. The force of his thrust pushes your body down against the bed, and you cry out as pleasure shoots through you.

The feel of Toto inside you, filling and completing you, is unlike anything.

Toto's thrusts become harder, more urgent, driving into you with a force that had you moaning out his name over and over again, lost in the pleasure of the moment.

The sound of your sweat-slicked bodies slapping against each other, the wetness that escapes with each thrust, fills the small room.

Your breasts bounce with every move. You are so close to the edge, your orgasm building deep within you. Toto feels your inner walls begin to flutter around his cock, the sensation driving him wild.

"Fuck, Toto!" you cry out, clutching at the sheets as your body trembles with pleasure under his thrust.

He repeats the motion over and over again, your body shaking beneath him, your moans desperate. Toto feels your body tighten around him and your inner walls milking his cock.

With a final, frantic thrust, Toto lets himself go. He cums hard, filling you with his release.

As you both come down from your high, Toto collapses onto you, his body panting and slick with sweat.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you both catch your breath.

Toto presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips brushing against your skin.

"Toto, I... I..." you try to build the courage to say.

"Yes?" His voice is husky but caring.

"I- I love you." You are all red, looking down, unable to face him.

He pulls your chin up tenderly with his finger before kissing your lips.

Before you dare to confess: "I never loved someone this much, I... I want a life with you and you to be my future. Could, you, I don't know, think about it, maybe, you know, you could... take me... with you to London, it sounds good."

A trail of kisses comes your way. "I will think about it, but let's sleep first. It's almost 4 a.m." he rubs his eyes and wraps you around his body.

"Yeah, I'm exhausted too; a lot happened." You kind of laugh and move to enjoy the view of his naked body, caressing him till he falls asleep, and you, too.

As sunlight creeps into your small room, you wake up disoriented. It's a hot day, and the AC is off.

"Toto?" you call his name; his body is not next to you, and you hear sounds from the kitchen.

"Is he making you breakfast? How sweet!"

You get on your feet and quickly pull some clothes on. You don't want to miss that moment for your life.

You pull the slightly already open door of your room to be greeted by an unexpected scene.

Surprisingly, your aunt is there, cooking breakfast for your mom. You look around the apartment, confused.

"Surprise!" your mom lets out from one of the chairs on the small round table. "Oh, it's only me, honey!" your mom informs you, thinking you are looking around to spot her family. As usual, believing life revolves around her.

"Are only just you two in here?" you ask.

"Ahm, yes..." your aunt says, holding the pan. "Well, no, if you count the ghost that lives here, the one who likes to throw my flowerpots."

"It's a cat!" you add before walking fast back to your room. Then you look at the clock, fuck! It's almost 1 p.m.; it's not breakfast time. It's lunchtime!

You pick up your phone, no new texts or calls from Toto; maybe he is dealing with shit after what happened. It's too bad you cannot go back to the Club.

What is that?!

You notice a folded piece of paper on the nightstand. You feel the fine paper on your fingertips as you open it:

"I'm sorry to do this to you, kid, but I can't."

And just like that, he exits your life.

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wandering-winchesters · 2 years ago

Text

Bad Feeling

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 3,570 Summary: The reader has a bad feeling about a hunt, the boys ignore it and she gets hurt. Trigger warning: swearing, mentions of blood and injury.

Masterlist A/N: Requests are open, please let me know what you think of this!

I am awoken by a knock at my door, I open my eyes, squinting at the harsh light flowing through the window in my room. It takes me a second to understand where I am, the unfamiliar room catching me off guard, before I recognize it as the motel room I had crashed in late last night.

“Who is it?” I call out, sleep hanging heavy in my voice. I sit up in the bed, throwing the sheets and blanket to the side.

“Your favorite hunter.” The voice on the other side of the door calls back, I roll my eyes and cross the room to open the door to reveal a grinning Dean Winchester.

“Oh, you’re not Bobby.” I say, a mischievous smile on my lips. Dean looks taken aback, his grin faltering slightly.

“Ouch, sweetheart, that was mean.” He says, developing a pouty expression. I step back and allow him to walk into the room, closing the door behind him.

“What do you need Dean?” I ask, a yawn forcing its way to fruition, I stretch, raising my arms up over my head and a slight groan escapes my lips. I shake my head, trying to shake off the fog that is left behind from the remnants of sleep.

“Wanted to see if you wanted to grab breakfast before we head off towards the next hunt. But now that I am here, it might be better if I bring you breakfast.” He says, his eyes crinkling from the smile forming on his face as he surveys the sleepy mess that I am currently. My hair is thrown up in the messiest of buns, strands hanging down around my face and shoulders, having come loose in my sleep. A large oversized shirt adorns my body, sleep shorts too short to be seen underneath. I roll my eyes and push him gently, he dramatically takes a few steps back, rubbing his arm where I had shoved him, acting as if I had severely hurt him.

“Yeah, we can go get breakfast, I just need a few to shower and get dressed. Where’s Sam?” I ask, walking to my duffle bag and pulling out a change of clothes.

“He’s out already, went to the local library to dig for some death records.” Dean says, sighing loudly at the prospect of what he calls boring research.

“Oh he should have woken me up, I would’ve gone with him.” I say, walking into the bathroom but leaving the door propped open so I could still hear him. I pull off my shirt and shorts, turning the shower water on.

“I told him not to, wanted to let you get some sleep. I know you haven’t been sleeping well recently.” Dean says, and I can hear him shuffling around in my room. I wait for him to stop moving around and I stick my head out into my room, hiding my body behind the bathroom door.

“Hey, fucker. Stay out of my snacks!” I yell, glaring at him. He had seen the corner of a bag of chips sticking out of my bag and had helped himself. He turns around, caught red handed. But instead of looking apologetic or sheepish, he smirks. His eyes boring a hole through the door, even though all he can see is my collarbones and up. “Why don’t you come here and make me.” He grins, winking at me in the most painfully exaggerated way possible.

“You wish.” I roll my eyes, and slam the bathroom door. I can hear him laughing for quite a few minutes after I had shut the door. I smile to myself, shaking my head at his childish behavior. I love it though, I wouldn’t trade my friendship with him for anything in this world.

I quickly shower and dry off, throwing on the clothes that I had already picked out and brought into the bathroom with me. When I open the door, Dean is sitting on the end of my bed, flipping through a magazine that he must’ve brought with him. I don’t dare ask what magazine, because I honestly don’t want to know. I walk over to my bag and pull out my gun, checking to ensure it was fully loaded and I holster it. Before tucking the holster into the front of my waistband, pulling my sweatshirt down over it, successfully concealing it. I look up at him, and he is watching my every move. I look down, checking my appearance once more. Black skinny jeans, and a black hoodie, my staples, comfy but not frumpy, the only fashion sense I live by.

“What?” I ask him, after I ensure that there isn’t anything wrong with what I am wearing. He shakes his head, jumping up from the end of the bed. Weird, normally he didn’t have any issue expressing what he was thinking, flirtatious comments common, coming from him.

“Lets go get breakfast! Sam is going to meet us there.” He says instead, leading the way to the impala. I shake my head and follow after him, pulling a jacket over my hoodie and bracing for the cold air as we leave. I climb in the passenger seat, shivering slightly and Dean notices. He turns the heat up in the car, shooting me an apologetic glance. “I should’ve come out and started the car, sorry sweetheart.” He says, backing out of the spot and heading to a local diner. The short drive passes quickly, the car barely getting warm by the time we arrive.

We walk inside quickly, Dean holding the door open for me to walk ahead of him. I look around and see Sam sitting in a booth, and walk in his direction, Dean following right behind me. I slide into the booth, sitting opposite from Sam and Dean sits next to me.

“What’ve we got Sammy?” Dean asks, his expression serious a stark contrast to his behavior in the motel room. As Sam explains about the spirit that has been killing people in town and who he thinks it might be, a feeling of unease settles over me. I cannot put my finger on what he said that triggered this response, or why. My thoughts must have been written across my face in permanent marker, because Dean snaps me out of my thoughts by placing a hand on my thigh, squeezing gently.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” He asks, but he is interrupted by the server coming over and taking our order. We all order different combinations of the same thing, food and coffee.

Once she leaves, Dean once again turns his attention to me, repeating his earlier questions. I shrug, tucking my hair behind my ear, debating on if I want to be honest or just brush off the feeling that is still settled heavily in my gut. I choose the former.

“I just have a bad feeling about this hunt, I can’t really put my finger on why. But as soon as Sammy started talking about what he found, this just bad feeling settled over me.” I explain, realizing just how crazy it must sound. Sam nods, his gaze meeting my own. Dean laughs it off, stating that I must just be hungry. I inwardly agree with him, and spend all of breakfast trying to shake off this feeling. After we are done eating, we head out to the impala. Approaching the old abandoned farm house, where the dead bodies have been found over the last couple of weeks. All of them dying under mysterious and unexplainable circumstances. Dean had met with the local sheriffs office yesterday and they were all stumped, convinced that a serial killer had taken up residence in the area. However, the lore that Sam had uncovered showed that every thirty years, in January this kind of thing happened. People left their houses in the middle of the night, walked to this farm house and were found dead the next day. Sam thinks it is an angry spirit, however there were multiple people that it could be. They hoped to narrow it down by visiting the house and looking around. We split up upon entry to the house, much to my dismay. However, this was the way we normally handled cases like this. Cover as much ground as possible, in as little time as we could. We stayed within shouting distance, that way if something went wrong or if there was a discovery, the others could hear you.

This is how I wound up, in the kitchen alone. I hadn’t found anything worth mentioning, but continued to look around anyways. “Guys, in here!” I hear Dean yell, and I quickly turn to locate where he was. Sam and I met him in the dilapidated room that probably used to be a study. He’s holding a well worn leather book, his eyes scanning the page.

“Looks like we’re dealing with an angry ghost of this Marla Johnson.” He says, pointing to the section of the page. “I found her daughters diary, and she says that her mother died suddenly and everyone in town suspected her father of being the murderer. Now to find out where she was buried.” A rush of cool air draws my attention and my eyes focus on the woman suddenly standing behind Dean, my eyes widening and I yell to warn them of her appearance. Dean jumps into action, pulling me behind him and readying the shotgun loaded with rock salt rounds. Just as quickly as she appeared, she’s gone. The temperature in the room returning to what it was before.

“Alright, Y/N, I am gonna go look around outside for a grave sight and see what I can find. You and Sam stay here and try to hold her off.” Dean says, handing me his shotgun. Sam and I exchange glances, before heading off to different rooms in the house. It is in that moment, that the bad feeling returns. A pit forming in my stomach, heavy and foreboding. I try to push it to the back of my mind, creeping back towards the kitchen where I had been before. My eyes sweep the room, before freezing in place when I look into the window over the kitchen sink and see her in the reflection, standing directly behind me. I steel my nerves and whip around, holding the shotgun up and aiming it at her. I’m not fast enough, she sends a knife flying through the air and it lands firmly in my thigh. I yell out, quickly pulling the trigger and watching her dissolve into mist. Not gone, but displaced for the time being. I hear Sam yell my name, but I don’t have the nerve to respond. Concerned that any sound will draw her back to me. I cycle the shotgun, reloading another shell, bracing for her reappearance. I brace myself in the corner of the kitchen, my back to the wall, leaning heavily against it in order to keep as much weight off my injured leg as I can. This position also giving me the visual advantage, I am able to see both doorways into the kitchen. I hear footsteps coming and I keep the shotgun braced against my shoulder, but lowered, so I won’t be pointing it directly at Sam or Dean when they enter the room. Sam rounds the corner, his eyes wide, the light coming in through the cobweb covered windows, highlight the concern on his face.

“Are you alright? I heard you scream.” He says, lowering his own weapon and walking closer to where I am standing. I wipe the sweat off my forehead with the sleeve of my hoodie, and gesture towards my thigh.

“Ive been better.” I mutter, gritting my teeth as I shift my weight slightly, all of the nerves and muscles in my leg screaming at me as I move. Sam’s face falls, he slings the shotgun over his shoulder and walks over to me. He quickly takes his belt off and secures it around my upper thigh, as high as he can and as tight as he can. He throws my arm over his shoulder and I wrap my own around his back, accepting his help fully.

“Lets get you out of here.” He says and we begin the awkward shuffle towards the front door, every step causing another swear to slip through my lips. He mumbles apologies as we go, supporting most of my body weight as I hop next to him. As we cross the threshold of the house, Dean comes around the corner, a grin on his lips.

“Marla, the bloodthirsty ghost has been salted and burned. We’re good to go, who’s-“ He stops suddenly, seeing the way that Sam is half carrying half dragging me out of the house. He breaks into a run, crossing the distance as quickly as he can.

“What happened?” He asks, handing my shotgun to Sam and picking me up, an arm under my knees the other behind my back, I bite my tongue to avoid calling him quite a few choice words as he jostles the blade in my thigh. I grumble, something about being able to walk and he silences me with a look.

“Ghosty bitch there, decided to impale me as her last act of vengeance. I told you I had a bad feeling about this hunt.” I say, reluctantly allowing my head to rest against his shoulder, the adrenaline wearing off and exhaustion setting in.

He carries me over to the impala, where Sam has already opened the back door for him. He sets me down, and pulls his knife from his back pocket, cutting the fabric to my jeans before I can even protest, he pulls the length of fabric away from my skin and begins to inspect the damage.

“These were my favorite jeans.” I mumble sadly, glancing down at the blood stained tattered mess that they had become.

“I will buy you more jeans, Y/N. I am more worried about you bleeding out on me here.” He says, concern written plainly across his face. Once he decides that I am not going to bleed out and it can wait until were back at the hotel to stitch up. He tosses the keys to Sam and climbs into the back of the impala with me. He pulls me against his chest, making sure I keep my leg propped up on the seat, his flannel torn to shreds and wrapped around the knife meticulously. I’ll give him this, he’s pretty good at improvised medicine. On the drive back he pesters me with questions about what happened after he went outside.

“Dean, I am not telling you this story for the third goddamn time.” I grit out between clenched teeth, “I just want to take a nap.” I whine, trying to close my eyes and snuggle into him further.

“And that’s what you’re not going to do, you gotta stay awake. We’re almost back at the motel sweetheart.” He says, shaking me slightly, not enough to aggravate my wound but enough to keep me awake. I curse him out, using the most colorful combination I can think of. He shakes his head, a light laugh escaping him. Sam parks the impala out front of the motel room, Dean leans me against the seat so he can climb out, and I scoot myself over to the door, preparing to climb out on my own.

“Hey! Stay put.” He orders, his tone taking me by surprise. He walks around to the other side of the car, gently pulling me to my feet, before once again picking me up and carrying me inside. I don’t complain this time, honestly too tired to care. Instead of going to my motel room, he walks into the one that he shared with Sam the night before, setting me down gently on the bed, propping me up with a couple of pillows. I try to ignore the throbbing in my thigh and focus on the wound itself. I lean forward, pulling the strips of his flannel away and looking at it closer. Thankfully, the knife she had thrown was relatively short, only about three inches long, the blade about 1 inch wide at the handle. It still hurt like an absolute bitch. Dean pulls a chair up to the side of the bed, and sits down in it. His hand coming to brush my own away and he hands me a bottle of whiskey.

“Drink, you’ll need it.” He says, the look he gives me full of sympathy. Apologizing in advance for what he was about to do. I take a couple of sips of the dark liquid, trying to ignore the burning sensation as it goes down.

“This is gonna hurt sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He says, gripping the knife firmly in one hand, the other bracing against my thigh. He counts down from five, and I try to relax my body as much as I can, resting my head back on the pillows he had propped me up on and taking a few deep breaths. He doesn’t wait until one however, and pulls the blade straight out on 3.

“Mother fucker.” I hiss, my hands reaching up and grabbing fistfuls of my own hair. He pours alcohol over my thigh, causing another strand of colorful language. Thankfully the blade had missed any major arteries and stitches should be enough to stop the bleeding. He sets to work, trying to be as gentle as he can be.

“Next time I have a bad feeling, I’m doing the salt and burn. You can get stabbed in the leg.” I mutter, looking down at Dean as he works on my leg, he should only have a couple of stitches to go now. He laughs softly, tying another knot with the filament he’s been using.

“You’re right sweetheart. I’ll listen next time.” He finished the stitches, covering my leg in a bandage and offering me the bottle of whiskey again. I take another sip, hoping to take the edge off of my pain. Sam had offered to stay in my room that night, so I could stay in here with Dean. He had brought all of my stuff in here, ignoring my every protest. I didn’t really mind, having an evening alone with the older Winchester sounded like a good way to end this shitty day. I love Sam, don’t get me wrong, but Dean and I are closer, we have more in common.

Dean had finished washing his hands in the bathroom and had come back out and sat down next to me.

“Dean, I hate to be a pain, but could you help me change clothes? I smell like moth balls, salt and blood.” I ask, throwing him my best puppy dog eyes and pout. He agrees and grabs a pair of sweatpants from my bag. He looks for a shirt, but quickly gives up when he can’t find one of mine. He grabs one of his own from his bag and crosses to the side of the bed. I slide my hips to the edge of the bed, pulling my jeans down as far as I can without standing. He helps me stand, pulls them off the rest of the way and helps me gently side on the clean sweatpants. He helps me sit back down, and hands me his shirt to wear. I happily shed my dirty one and slip on his. Secretly relishing in the idea of wearing his clothes.

“I’m going to take a quick shower, you’ll stay put in that bed, or so help me.” He says, closing the door to the bathroom. I roll my eyes, but happily oblige. I lay back on his bed, taking in his scent and the warmth that his shirt provides. I’m quickly lulled into a light sleep, the kind where you can still hear everything around you, but it’s restful all the same. I hear him come out of the bathroom, sometime later humming along to whatever song was playing in his mind. He stops when he realizes I’m sleeping and pulls a blanket off the other bed, laying it gently on top of me. He kisses me on my forehead and the next thing he does catches me completely off guard.

“I love you, Y/N, hopefully one day I can say it to you when you’re awake. I’m so sorry you got hurt today.” His words whispered and quiet, he presses another kiss to my forehead and I hear him start to walk away.

“Dean?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper myself, sleep holding me tight in its grasp.

“Yeah, Y/N?” He asks, his tone slightly anxious.

“Nap with me?” Those three words, would change everything. I just didn’t know it yet.

He hums in agreement, coming to lay next to me opening his arms for me to come closer. I snuggle in against him, resting my head on his chest and carefully positioning my leg so I’m comfortable. We lay in silence for awhile, sleep on the horizon but still at bay. Right before I doze off, I press a kiss to his chest and repeat the words he had said to me just a little while earlier.

“I love you, Dean.”

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mcondance · 1 year ago

Text

“and i wish that i could be with you tonight, you give me butterflies”

butterflies — oj haywood

pairing oj haywood x Black!afab fem reader

contents slow burn, kinda, but not too much. little bit of angst and self doubt. canon-compliant except holst and jupe did not die, smut (unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), creampies, it gets rough for like one scene but nothing too crazy)

words 8.8k

notes handful of michael jackson references (like 3) so if you don't like michael kill yourself, oh also the title is from butterflies by michael too, this is a re-upload from my old blog!

The pictures of the horses are beautiful, but the horses themselves? They’re gorgeous. After seeing countless pictures of them and marveling at the still images, you ask Holst who’s horses they are, and if their owner would be okay with you popping up for just a second.

The drive is long as hell, some big ass ranch out in Agua Dulce, far from anything except for Jupe’s Theme Park. You make plans to visit one day. Today you’re on a mission to lay eyes on some of the most beautiful animals you’ve seen. Which is saying a lot, since you work with pictures of Holst’s animals all day.

The man that meets you at the ranch is.. not amused. In fact, he looks extremely annoyed. It seems like Holst is a liar.

“Who are you?” he asks, face scrunched up from the heat of the sun, hands on his hips, body language giving stand-offish. You give him your name and he barely acknowledges it. He would much rather know why you’re here and what you want.

“I, um, I work with Holst.” you say with a nervous smile, his displeasure at your unexpected and uninvited presence evident. “I just saw some pictures of the horses and I had to see them in person.”

Hearing your reasoning for basically trespassing on his ranch strikes a bit of a nerve in him. He’s never met someone who’s that interested in the horses. But he wants to get this over with quickly. He got shit to do, and you just interrupted the horses feeding time.

He turns, nods in a gesture that you take as him telling you to follow him, and walks off. You follow closely, but not too close. You don’t wanna seem like more of a weirdo than you’re sure you already do.

“You drove all the way out here just to see my horses?” he questions, leaning on the arena near a pretty brown horse as he waits for you to catch up.

“Yeah.” you nod. “I been seeing pictures of them for some months now and i just wanted to see them in person.”’

“Mhm.” he nods, reaching up to sift some dirt off of Lucky’s mane.

You step a little closer to the arena, and Oj figures you want to pet Lucky. “Come ‘ere.“ He nods his head again, this time gesturing you to follow him towards the horse. You do, falling into place beside him.

“Gimme your hand.” He reaches for you and meets you in the middle and places it on Lucky. His hair is soft and silky, hot from the California sun, and you can tell just from a feel that Oj takes good care of him, of all of his horses. He’s gentle with your hand, holds it and guides you. That makes heat rise in your cheeks, heat that’s definitely not caused by the sun beating down on you two.

Then Oj pulls his hand away from yours, casting his eyes over the expanse of land.

That breaks you out of your awe-induced stupor.

“I gotta get home.” you say, walking off before he gets the chance to say anything.

On the way home, you have flashes of the cowboy playing through your mind, the burning heat on your hand remaining from his touch, and a couple of butterflies find a hopefully temporary home in your stomach.

—

The next day, you come back.

You find him in the stables this time, throwing hay into the stalls.

Oj’s surprised. Usually, people pet the horses, hang around for a little while, and then lose interest.

“Hey, Oj.” you wave happily.

“Hey. You wanna help me feed them?” He assumes that you’d like to, since you’ve shown some interest in them. And of course you do.

It’s not easy, the bales of hay heavier than you anticipated. But you take the work in stride. It’s not too hard, not when you get to admire these beautiful animals and see how they work. And, to be honest, you like seeing how their owner works as well.

He’s so handsome, with his pretty brown skin, glistening with sweat, the image of a hard-working man. You don’t know why, and you don’t know how, but the cowboy thing is working for him and on you. He’s captivating, his dedication to his horses and his quiet demeanor working together to have you tripping over your words and feet around him.

You could blame it on the heat, or you could blame it on the feeling of his eyes on you the entire time. You’re sure he’s just trying to make sure you don’t fuck up his horses, but you can’t lie, it’s nice to feel for just a second that a man like this is interested in you.

When he asks how long you’ve been working for Holst, it’s like you completely forget the last 8 months of your life. You stutter over your words, and you’re quite literally confused on how you could stutter over two simple words. Still, you do, and you’re sure you just setback any progress you made in getting Oj to find you at all attractive and worth being around.

Because that’s the problem. That’s the dilemma. Here you have a man, who’s happiest in solitude and quiet, and here you are, talkative and loud, and you think you want him to want you. That’s the problem you have. And it’s a big, inescapable problem.

He tells you to hang back by the door of one stable while you’re thinking, telling you that this horse doesn’t take too kindly to strangers. That gives you another chance to really take him in.

He’s so goddamn attractive, and you’re so glad he’s so focused on the horse, because you’re shamelessly staring at his thighs, visibly thick through the denim of jeans. His chest is built; it’s visible under his shirt, too.

And the butterflies are there once again, accompanied by the heat encompassing your entire being.

It isn’t quite professional to be eyeing one of your coworker’s business partners like this, but you’re too caught up in your reverie to care.

And then Oj turns around, and you snap out of it as fast as you can. Not fast enough, you suppose, because he asks you if you’re okay when he makes it back over to you.

“You good?” he asks. “The heat is a lot. You can go if you’re getting too hot.”

“No, no, I’m good!” you nod, reassuring him through a heavy breath.

“You sure?” he pushes, eyes fixed on yours.

“Yeah.” you nod, but you’re not at all okay. He’s close enough that you can feel his warmth radiating off of him, and you have to suppress a chuckle at his previous choice of words. You are getting too hot.

It’s just.. with the way he towers over you, looking down at you under the brim of his hat, the way his pretty brown skin shines with sweat, the way he’s so fucking warm and his lips look so goddamn nice, you can barely focus on anything else. And the way he’s staring at you like he wants to do something more than stare has you questioning if Holst would be upset if you kissed his business partner after only knowing him for like 2 days.

A horse neighs. Oj backs up immediately. You have to go, have to get from around Oj before you do some reckless shit.

“That was the last horse, right?” you ask shakily, uneasiness leaking into your voice.

“Yeah.” he nods, hands on his hips, his stance driving you insane.

“I guess that’s my cue, then.” you respond, walking off before he can even fit another word in.

On the drive home, Oj’s the only thing on your mind.

—

Visiting the Haywood ranch this time is for two reasons.

One: you want to ride one of the horses.

And Two: Oj fucking Haywood.

This time, surprisingly, he isn’t outside with the horses. You hear music playing from the house, so you assume he’s in there. Before you can even knock, the door opens, and you’re met with the face of the man you think you’re developing feelings for.

“Hey.” he greets you.

“Hey!”

“If you wanted to feed them or something, it’s past their feeding ti-”

“No!” you cut him off before he can shut you down and send you home. “I was hoping you’d take me, uh, horse riding.” You say it like a question, eyes searching his face for any emotion, any answer to your question. The music playing is a glaring foil to your current feelings, smooth reggae contrasting with your hyper aware and scrambled mind. You don’t know how he does it.

“Yeah. I’ll take you horse riding.” he nods, stepping out of his house and closing the door. He clicks at you in that certain way, jerks his head in what you know to be directing you towards the horses.

“Which one?” he asks when you both make it to the stables.

“Lucky.” you answer. “I’ve liked him since I saw the pictures of him.” Once it leaves your mouth, you’re sure it sounds weird. But his reaction, a warm smile that seems genuine, tells you otherwise. Perhaps he’s growing as fond of you as you are of him.

After he saddles Lucky up, he calls you over to the horse.

“Okay, so I’m gonna help you up. You ready?” he asks, leaning down to cup his hands together. You nod, throwing one hand over Lucky and stepping into his hands. He boosts you up, and then he’s swinging up behind you, reaching around you to grab the reins.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Because you can feel him against you, and if you don’t hold on tight enough, you just might fall off the damn horse.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Yeah.” you nod.

He takes you down through the gulch, takes you near Jupe’s Park and somewhere way behind the ranch. The sun is beating down on you two, but you know it isn’t the cause of what you feel.

The heat that has enveloped you is caused by Oj’s arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing every once in a while to guide Lucky. Caused by the way you can feel his chest pressed against you, firm and warm. The way merely being close to him has your head spinning.

At some point, he notices the sun starting to bother you. You feel him shift behind you and see his arm go up, and then his hat is on your head, and you’re pushing it down to make sure it doesn’t fall off.

It means nothing, you’re sure. He’s just being nice. But god, it means so much to you, though you’re sure it shouldn’t.

When you make it back to the ranch, you’re jittery and nervous, letting him help you off the horse and then backing up from him as soon as you’re off, handing him his hat from a distance. He doesn’t say anything, crediting it to being your first horse ride and the heat. He’s right, sort of. Just not right about where the heat’s coming from.

He waves you a quick goodbye in that attractive cowboy way, two fingers and all flicking off his forehead in a salute, and you turn away, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

You’ve tried to make your feelings for the quiet man go away, but he’s not made it any better.

You like Oj. There’s no denying it, no hiding it. You’ve fallen for a cowboy.

–

Some time passes between your realization and your next visit. You needed some time to think, to make sure what you feel for him isn’t just some stupid crossing of wires in your brain.

It isn’t. He’s on your mind every goddamn for the next 2 weeks.

Your visit is Holst’s doing this time. He wants you to take some more pictures of the horses. You go reluctantly, not arguing with him so he doesn’t start to pry.

When you get there, Oj seems happy to see you. You credit it to wishful thinking, or maybe he’s just happy to be here with his horses. You don’t know, and you don’t intend to think about it for long. You just flash him your camera and a wry smile and he nods, understanding what you’re here to do.

Well, what you’re here trying to do.

You’re too distracted, eyes flitting over to him with everything you do. You’ll be lucky if you get one clear picture, hands fumbling with the camera like you haven’t been taking pictures all your life.

Everytime your eyes find him, his eyes have found you as well, glances shared from under the brim of his hat. It feels like you’re both in middle school, trying to sneak little glances at your crush from across the ranch, your work going undone.

You’re trying. You really are. You try to focus on your task, to take the pictures Holst needs and leave, but you can’t settle the butterflies in your stomach, can’t get rid of that familiar heat, not with Oj’s gaze lingering over your every move.

But you’re just imagining things. You know you are. There’s no way Oj’s even giving you a second thought. He’s just watching his horses, making sure they’re in good hands.

You feel uncomfortable even being around Oj, knowing you feel the way you do for him and being sure he doesn’t feel the same. You have to go home. You have to get from around him before you do some shit you’ll regret.

You turn to leave, to sneak off before he even has the chance to realize you’re gone. You won’t come back again. You’ll think up some bullshit excuse to give Holst later.

But then Oj’s voice sounds out from across the way, stopping you in your tracks.

“Hey, where you going?”

Shit.

“Home. I don’t wanna bother you anymore.” you answer, turning towards him, figuring you’ll be truthful since this is the last time you plan to see him.

The look on his face is one of confusion, which matches what you feel inside. This can’t be happening right now.

“You’re not bothering me.” he says. You’re sure he’s lying, right? He’s just trying to be nice, trying not to ruin his business relationship with Holst, trying not to hurt the weird photographer who popped up at his ranch one day’s feelings.

“I think I am.” you respond, eyes looking down at the dirt. Anywhere but at Oj. “It’s obvious you like being alone.”

“I do like being alone.” he nods, walking towards you. You knew it.

You nod at his statement, gearing up to ask him why he even stopped you. You back up, ready to leave. Until he speaks again.

“Unless I find someone who’s worth sharing my space with.”

Your head shoots up, eyes meet Oj’s sincere expression of emotion.

“Am I worth sharing your space with?” you just want to hear his answer, need to hear it spoken straight from his mouth.

He’s so close now, mere inches separating you two. And the heat is there again, and the butterflies settle in your stomach, just like they have everytime you two have been this close.

“Hell yeah.”

His lips crash against yours, the brim of his hat brushing against your forehead. You both can’t be bothered to care, not when the yearning of two people too afraid to say anything has finally been sated. Not when your lips feel so good together, when he can taste you and you can taste him. Not when his hands have found your waist and are gently squeezing, and your hands have found his neck, scratching softly at the short hair there.

Not when the heat of the California sun is nothing compared to the heat shared between you two.

You both separate for air, and Oj takes that as a chance to pick his hat up. Your hand flies to your chest, feeling your heartbeat as your chest heaves. He stands back up, laughing breathlessly.

“You dropped my hat.” he jokes, dusting it off. His eyes meet yours again.

“Well, it was hindering my ability to kiss the very handsome cowboy standing right in front of me.”

“Yeah, alright.” he laughs, putting his hat on your head.

“I’d hate to ruin the moment, but I gotta go home.” you say reluctantly, blushing at Oj’s action and tucking your braids under the hat.

“Yeah.” he nods, looking in the direction of the already setting sun, hands on his hips like they always are when he’s focused. “Next time you visit, I’m taking you out.” He smiles now, pretty white teeth shining. He looks happy, you think.

“I’ll hold you to that.” you smile back. He kisses you on your forehead as a goodbye.

This time on your drive home, you don’t chase the images of the cowboy flashing through your mind away.

—

Your next visit to the ranch is by invitation. You could call it a date, you guess.

When you get there, the man that meets you is obviously so happy to see you. He greets you with a kiss, one hand on your cheek, resting tenderly. He tastes like lemonade, and his body is warm like the heat of the sun. You hate to pull away, but you just have to admire the handsome cowboy standing right there in front of you.

He has an orange hoodie on, with something like “Scorpion King” written on it. It’s late in the evening, so you can just barely make it out. It looks good on him.

“You staring?” he asks with a smirk.

“Yeah.” you nod with a smile. “I can’t admire the man I just kissed? Plus the hoodie looks good on you.”

He doesn’t answer, just smiles again, shaking his head at your words.

“Nice hat.” he changes the subject, motioning with a nod towards the hat on your head that looks suspiciously similar to the one he gave you last time you saw each other.

“Where we going?” you change the topic, saving yourself from your own bashfulness.

“There’s this food place like, 5 minutes from Jupe’s Claim.” He decides to leave you alone, but inside he’s feeling all sappy about you wearing it.

“Cool.” you smile.

The drive there is filled with talking, mostly on your part, and laughing on Oj’s. You both fall into this dynamic quickly. You speak, and Oj listens. You like it.

You eat in his truck because you know that Oj doesn’t wanna be in the building with that many people. He tries to protest, but you stand firm, even locking the doors when he tries to leave the vehicle.

“You know, you’re holding me hostage.” he deadpans, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah, okay.” you laugh through a mouthful of fries. He can’t help but chuckle, reaching for his food.

“And in my own vehicle?” he jokes, placing more fries into his mouth.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” you acquiesce. “We’re not going in there. I like it like this, just me and you.”

His eyes meet yours, and you’re so grateful that you can say something about it this time, can act on what you’ve been feeling for the past month or so. So you kiss him, and kissing him feels just as good as the first time.

When you hook your phone up to the aux and turn some music on, he cracks a smile, which turns into a laugh when you begin to passionately sing the lyrics.

“You’re very excited about this, I see.” he remarks.

“Hell yes I am!” you scream over the track. “It’s my favorite song!”

He just nods, choosing to silently watch as you give him the show of your life, grabbing at his hoodie and sobbing exaggeratedly to get the song’s point across.

You end up back at the ranch after a while, sometime after midnight. You leave, still feeling Oj’s lips on your forehead, his form of a goodbye.

—

No way.

Absolutely no way.

You rub your eyes like on the cartoons, squinting to make sure your vision is correct.

“Oj, what the hell!” you scream up at him.

“What.” he responds, like he’s not outside your house on top of a literal horse.

“Why are you on a horse!”

“I wanna take you horse riding. This time as my girlfriend.”

As his girlfriend.

“Good lord.” you laugh as Oj hops off of Lucky so he can help you up.

“How’d you know where I live?” you ask as he boosts you onto Lucky with a grunt.

“Holst.” He answers shortly. This man is gonna drive you insane. He swings up behind you, and then you both are off, riding through the countryside.

He’s so warm, and you are too, just like that third time y’all met. This time, you can express your thoughts to him.

“You know, last time we did this, it made my feelings worse.”

“Is it doing it again?” he asks, not questioning what else you meant.

“Yeah. Hell yeah.” you nod, and you feel him smile against your neck as he places a kiss there. His hand ghosts up your side, the other staying steady on the reins, and he places his hat on your head, just like the other time.

You smile to yourself, relishing in having the affection of the cowboy you could’ve sworn didn’t care for anything other than his horses.

When he drops you off at your house, you kiss him goodbye this time. He leans down over the horse to accept your kiss with smiling lips, and then he’s nodding like the stereotypical cowboy and riding off to his house.

Who would have known Otis Haywood Junior could be such a sweetheart?

—

Oj’s vinyl collection is insane. Currently playing is “Fisherman” by the Congos, the same song that was playing the day you came over for a horse ride.

Oj comes into the living room, two glasses of lemonade in both of his hands.

“I like this song.” you say.

“That’s good. It’s one of my favorites.” he responds, handing you a glass and taking a seat beside you on the couch.

“So when were you gonna tell me you’re this good at making lemonade?” you question dramatically, going back in for another sip.

“I live on a hot ass ranch and I’m outside most of the day. I thought that would be obvious.” He’s a sarcastic little thing, all snarky and cocky under that stoic exterior. You feel so grateful to be able to see this side of him, the side that he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.

He finishes up the lemonade in his cup, setting it on the table beside the couch and hopping up to change the vinyl.

“What you turning on?” you ask, swirling your remaining drink around in your glass.

“It’s a lil vinyl I made for us.” He pulls the record out, replacing the one on the player with it.

“You.. you made a vinyl for us?” you ask incredulously, in fucking shock.

“Yeah.” he nods, placing the needle on the record. You recognize the song as one of the ones that you played in the truck on your first date. The one you told him was your favorite.

“You remembered.”

“Of course I did.” You go silent at that, enjoying the song in a different context now.

He goes to the kitchen to wash and put up the glasses, leaving you in the living room, smiling when he hears you singing along to the record. When he comes back, another song is starting.

“All you got to do is walk away and pass me by, don’t acknowledge my smile when I try to say hello to you, yeah”

Michael Jackson croons off the player, singing lyrics that song very similar to you and Oj’s meetings and now relationship.

“That sounds like us at first.” you laugh, remembering Oj’s reluctance to even allow you on his ranch when you two first met.

“Does it?” he questions with a tilt of his head, fully aware that it sounds just like him.

“It does.”

“I just want to touch and kiss, and I wish that I could be with you tonight, cause you give me butterflies”

“You definitely give me butterflies.” you admit.

He’s standing cross-armed now, leaning against the table that the player sits on.

“Come ‘ere.” he beckons with a smile at your confession and a jerk of his head, outstretching his hand to you.

You stand up, entangling your hands and fingers with his. His other hand meets your hip as he starts to sway back and forth, and you fall in line with his dance.

“Would never have pegged you for the slow dancing type, but it works, to be honest.” you smile, eyes fixed on his. He smiles back, shrugging and kissing you on your forehead.

“If you would take my hand, baby I would show you, guide you to the light, babe”

Time seems to slow, the world outside falling away, leaving just you and Oj here together, dancing to music off a vinyl player on his ranch, your hands connected, bodies moving in sync. It feels kinda overwhelming, falling so fast for a man you were sure didn’t want anything to do with you.

Your eyes meet again, and so many things are said with just a glance. You have to talk, have to do something to deal with what you’re feeling. He looks too enamored with you, and you’re in too deep to not express it.

“Oj, I-” but he cuts you off with a kiss, knowing what you want to say.

“Don’t talk.” he shakes his head, separating for just a second. “Just do.” he nods, and then he moves back in. He’s sweet, a mix of lemonade and something you can only describe as him. His other hand moves to your cheek, cupping your face, and you almost melt at his tenderness when you feel his thumb start to rub softly. Your hands find his waist, tangling in the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to keep you in this plane of existence. It doesn’t quite work, though, because merely existing with this man sends you high enough to make sure you’ll never come down.

“Cause you give me butterflies inside”

When you both pull away, it’s with closed eyes and heaving chests. It takes you a second to come back down, to ground yourself back on earth. Oj’s hands have found your waist now, and yours are folded in front of you, too scared to touch him for fear of what will happen next.

He’s starstruck, but sure about what he wants. His hands find yours as your eyes open to find him gazing at you with adoration and sureness, and he places them on the waistband of his jeans, smiling against your lips when you hook your fingers in the loops and pull him ever closer, sighing against his lips when his warmth overtakes you.

Then he kisses you again, hands moving down to where yours are, ghosting under your shirt and resting on the skin above the waistband of your shorts. The kiss is deep, and before you know it your tongue slips into his mouth and his is in yours, and tongue-kissing would be gross with anyone else but with Oj it feels right. Everything feels right with him, and you swear you can feel him, hard and heavy, pressing against your thigh.

You can’t blame him though, because the heat he’s made fall over you has spread, has entrapped you and found its way between your legs.

And, maybe fueled by arousal, or Oj’s urging for you to just feel and do, you unbutton his jeans. You don’t know what to do next, don’t know anything about how he likes it or how he wants it, but you don’t give yourself time to doubt. You hook your fingers in his belt loops again and pull him towards the couch, and you fall back, letting him take his place hovering over you.

He leans down to kiss you again, like he’s addicted to the feeling of your lips against his, your taste mixing with him. And he is, god he is. He can’t separate, can’t bring himself to just stop kissing you, so he doesn’t. You separate just for a second, just long enough to push his jeans down so he can take the hint, and he steps out of them, leaning right back down to kiss you again.

His kisses flow from your lips down to your neck, and your hands find purchase in his short curls, nails scraping at his scalp, and the appreciative groan he gives you send chills racking through you. He kisses and licks, sucks and bites until he finds the spot that makes you squirm and whine just a little louder than the rest. You feel him smile against your skin, then, and you can’t stifle a smile either.

“You found it.” you say quietly, like talking too loud will wake you out of a dream, and you’ll wake up in your bed and not under Oj on his couch, with music playing off his vinyl record player.

“Mhm.” he hums against your neck before he goes to work on that spot, focusing his kisses and licks on that sensitive patch of skin. His hands drift down your body, nimble fingers unbuttoning your shorts with one hand. You lean into his touch, nodding when his eyes find yours, and he asks “Is this okay?”

Your brain blanks at the feeling of his hand so close to the heat that he’s created inside you. And then his hand slides into your shorts, slipping into your underwear to meet the mess he’s made of you.

“This all for me?” he asks with a smile, and you, with a heaving chest and a fluttery stomach, nod again, head falling back onto the couch. His other hand eases the shorts down your legs, giving himself more room to work with. On his way back, he kisses down your leg, drawing a small laugh from you, so happy to be seeing this loving side of him, and he smiles at you.

Then he’s focused again, fingers moving against you, experimenting with different angles and movements and motions, still kissing and nuzzling at your neck while you whine and squirm. He’s determined, wants to find that one thing that makes you tick.

And then he finds it.

“Fuck, that’s it.” you moan, chest arching into him, feeling him press against you, firm and warm, as his fingers find your clit.

“That’s it?” he asks, mirroring you as you nod before he even gets the question out. It’s arousing, for some reason, and he swears he can feel the blood rush to your clit. He rubs soft circles over it, watching your face, making it his one and only purpose at this moment to learn how you like, how you want it and what drives you crazy. And when he rubs a certain way, flicks his fingers just right, he can’t help but smile again at the unadulterated moan that rips from deep in your chest.

“That’s it.” he speaks against that sensitive spot he’s found on your neck, and it drives you wild.

“Shit.” is all you can manage, back falling down from its arch, legs closing around his hand.

Oj takes it all in, your whines, your groans, the way you squirm and shake and jerk against him. It feels so good, Oj on top of you, his hands on your body, one between your legs and the other stroking your hair, soothing you as you get lost in the pleasure that he’s giving you.

“Feels so good.” you whine, one hand curled in his hair, the other curled in the fabric of his shirt that you wish was off right now. “Off.” you manage to say, and he hates to pull his hand away, but he gives you what you want, pulls his shirt off as fast as he can, returning his hand to where you both want it.

“You dripping, baby.” he hums, and you shiver at the pet name that slips off his lips so easily.

You bring him down into yet another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he finds his rhythm again, working you up into ecstasy like you’ve never felt before.

“You- fuck, you make me feel so good.” you confess. “You’re making me feel so good.”

That makes him press harder, makes his movements against your clit speed up, makes him grow harder and heavier against your thigh. He needed that, needed to know that what he’s doing is still something you want.

“You shaking, baby. Feel good, yeah?” His accent has you hanging off his every word, his deep voice and drawl adding to the blood rushing to your clit.

“I wanna come.” you say, eyes locked on his.

“Well come, baby, you got that shit.” And you do, shaking and shivering as you soak his hand and your underwear and the couch beneath you. You find it funny how you’re coming for him on his couch, coming for a man you swore didn’t want you, laughing as you come down, small huffs with your arm thrown over your face, in awe at how fast and hard he made you come.

Then his lips are meeting yours again, and everything feels so perfect, final pieces of clothing falling onto the floor beside the couch.

You and Oj make love that night on his couch for the first time, with a vinyl he made for you two playing.

–

You wake up in his bed, slightly confused until the memories of last night come rushing back.

—

Oj bottoming out inside you, kissing you softly as his hips slot against you. His thrusts jolting you up the couch, your arms and legs wrapped around him, his soft praises of “You look so pretty, been wanting this for so long” meeting with your moans and groans of “Right there, fuck, right there, Oj.”

Your chest arching into his, breasts pressed against his chest, nipples hard and peaked and sensitive. His hand finding your chest, flicking softly, smiling once again at the shakes that rack through you. His golden chain dangling over you, glittering and hitting against your chin with every forward push of his hips into your heat.

Your hands gripping at his back, scratching and smoothing down his pretty brown skin, leaving red marks in your wake. His hisses and moans into your mouth at the feeling, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths too.

His fingers finding your clit, using the circles he learned earlier. Your legs tightening around his waist, his other hand ghosting down your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin, tight enough to leave pretty marks that you’ll admire in the California sunlight tomorrow.

Both of your moans and pants, warnings of your impending orgasms mixing together until you’re coming with each other. You soak his cock and he fills you up, giving warmth to each other like you’ve never felt before.

Oj collapsing on top of you, caging you in, you both resting in the afterglow of making love after holding back. Music sounding out, the soundtrack to you and Oj’s expression of passion.

Oj carrying you to his bed after a while, disappearing and returning with a warm, wet towel. While he was gone, you heard the music stop. You feel his hands ghost between your legs, soft and slow as he cleans you up, throwing the covers back over you.

Oj coming back after putting the towel away, settling on the other side of the bed, not knowing what to do next. You moving over to him immediately, arm thrown over his chest, and his arm coming up to embrace you.

You both drifting to sleep, laying in each other’s arms.

—

Oh. So that’s why you’re in his bed.

You throw the covers off your body, and you admire the bruises on your thighs in the California sun streaming through his windows. He’s not beside you, but you hear music spinning and smell food cooking.

You pick one of his shirts from his closet, a faded blue tee that stops right around the middle of your thigh. The marks he left yesterday are slightly covered, but enough peek out to satisfy your loving admiration of his touch left lingering on you.

When you make your way to the kitchen, you find Oj at the stove stirring a panfull of eggs. There’s two plates sitting on the counter, decked out with toast slathered in jelly, grits, and sausage. The food is paired with two glasses of cold lemonade — you can tell by the way the glasses are dripping in condensation.

He’s just finishing up, sliding eggs onto both plates. He leans into your touch when you embrace him, sliding your arms over his sides and to his front.

“G’morning.” you hum.

“G’morning, pretty girl.” is his response, voice deep with sleep, deep enough to shake you to your core. He turns around in your arms, places a finger under your chin to lift your lips to his.

“How’d you sleep?” he asks.

“Great. Even better since I was beside you.” you answer honestly, your smile mirroring his.

“Yeah?” he muses, before dipping down again to kiss you once more.

Kissing Oj feels like magic, feels like sparks and flames and butterflies, shooting heat through every nerve in your body. He pulls away just to sit there, to smile at you and watch you smile back, before kissing you again.

His hands ghost under his your shirt, resting on your waist. He hums at the lack of obstruction, the way what you both know is going to happen is just within his reach. You rest your hands on the sides of his face, thumb rubbing against his skin.

Things move fast this time. His hands are running down your body and over your thighs, hooking under your knees to place you on the counter, still kissing you with all he has in him.

His jeans and boxers are down as quick as quick as he can pull them, and then he’s pushing inside you again, seating himself where he belongs.

He ruts deep, hips flush against yours with your arms wrapped around him, shaking legs pulling him as close as you can. His face buried in your neck as he finds that spot on your neck, and that spot inside you again.

“That’s it, ain’t it?” he nods against your neck, smiles when he feels you nod with him, slipping into the morning bliss and the feeling of you around him, wet and warm. Your skin is heated, swapping warmth from him to you and back to him, passion and infatuation hanging in the air.

Now, you both learn that you two love it like this as well, slow and deep on the kitchen counter, sunlight streaming through the windows, illuminating and bearing witness to love-making between two people learning to love each other.

And when you come, and he does too, it’s with quiet moans and groans of each other’s name, his forehead against yours, hands gripping your waist, and you, with your fingers curled in his hair, shivering at his touch.

Luckily, cold eggs don’t sound too bad.

—

You make the ranch your home in no time. You have to go home for changes of clothes that day, but you’re back before sundown, decked out with some vinyls from your house to add to the collection.

You fall into your own routine, getting up and making breakfast somedays, prepping sandwiches for lunch on the days Oj cooks breakfast. You really could just do anything for the rest of the day, but most of it is spent with Oj, learning more about the horses and helping him where you can, sappy little moments ever abundant. At night, he ends up buried inside you again, which is becoming his favorite place to be. And during the day too, if you’re being honest. You two fuck like rabbits.

It’s cozy, existing in the same space with him. He’s soft, kisses you every chance he gets, makes you food and fucks you good after. And he’s funny, his wit endearingly annoying at times, though he tries to pretend like he doesn’t know.

“Put that shit on.” Black fabric hits your face as you’re sat on the couch, and when you feel it you can tell it’s the satin of your bonnet.

“What the fuck, Oj.” You deadpan, though you know he’s right.

“You left that in bed last night. Them braids look new. Put it back on.”

“So,” you start, raising up your hands so you can count on your fingers, “and I’m just tallying you up here, you can: cook, clean, you’re funny, you fuck amazing, you care about my hair, and on top of it all, you’re a real-life fucking cowboy?”

That draws a deep laugh straight out of his chest, his chuckles reverberating through the house, and through you, it feels. You laugh with him, feeling something like home sinking down into your bones. He makes his way to the kitchen, where he was on his way to before he spotted your bonnet on the bed.

“Yeah, I guess. And you went through the day without that on your head. So put it on.”

When you fuck on the counter a little after that, your bonnet is on.

–

The birth control / no condom conversation isn’t awkward at all, actually. It happens around two weeks after that first night.

With Oj’s cum leaking down your legs in the shower, his head resting in your neck, he finally says something.

“You on birth control?” he murmurs. “I been cumming inside you this whole time.” You can’t help but chuckle, breathless, still coming down.

“Yeah.” you nod.

“Thank god.” he responds.

He cooks you dinner that night, and kisses you every time he can.

—

It was inevitable, honestly, getting Oj between your legs. He’s tasted you on his fingers too many times to not want it from the source.

A morning spent in bed evolves into kisses, though everything with Oj means kisses. You’ve learned that Oj loves to kiss.

He sucks and licks at your neck on the way down to where he wants to be, hiking his repurposed shirt up to your stomach to reveal your core, wet and waiting for him to have his fill.

You know what’s about to happen, but you still jolt in shock when he licks that first stripe up your folds. Someway and somehow, he knows where your clit is, swirling his greedy tongue around it, indulging in your arousal.

“God, of course you’re good at this.” you moan, throwing your head back onto the pillows.

“Mhm.” he chuckles with an open mouth, tongue out and focused on your already sensitive clit. He bobs his head up and down, moving from your hole to your clit, always returning to the bundle of nerves that he’s so proficiently found and laid claim to.

He spreads you out with his thumbs, licks a fat stripe up from your entrance, sucking your clit into his mouth. You’re dumb now, stupid from pleasure and mind spinning with ecstacy. Sunlight streams through the windows, lights his pretty brown skin up, gives him a golden glow. It lights you up, too, gives him a better view of what you both know belongs to him already.

And you’re so close already. Three-ish weeks at the ranch has shown you it doesn’t take him long to get you high like this.

“Oj, ‘m gonna–”

“I know. Do it. Come for me.” He’s so sure in his words that you can’t help but follow them. You come, shaking and damn near crying on his tongue for the first time, and he swears you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.

He makes you come with just his tongue two more times before you both start your day. You have to lay in bed for a while before you can even think about walking anywhere on your still-shaking legs.

–

“When’d you catch feelings for me?” you ask him in bed one night while you read and he lays beside you, thinking.

“I thought you were pretty when you first came. But I really got roped in seeing you in your element, taking pictures of the horses, even if you were nervous. The day we kissed the first time.”

“Good to know.” you nod. You don’t feel the need to say anything else. Sitting in silence with Oj is something you’re growing to love.

–

You return the favor a couple days later.

He’s gentle, letting you take your time and take him into your throat at your own pace.

It’s messy. Spit dripping out of your mouth and onto the ground in the stables. Depraved, cause you couldn’t wait to get him in the house. He chuckles breathlessly at your greed, the way you basically jumped him, pushed him against the wall murmuring “God, you’re so fine” before you dropped to your knees, unbuckling his jeans with ease.

“That’s it.” he groans, hands threading into your braids.

You bob your head up and down, wrap your hand around the base of him, giving him just a little pressure, just enough to have a low growl reverberating in his chest.

You don’t pull off when he tells you he’s about to come. You don’t give a fuck, truly. You want it all. And you take it all.

You learn he’s the type to kiss you after he busts in your mouth.

–

Angel and Em come over a couple weeks after you move in. It doesn’t take them long to catch on to what you and Oj have going on.

“She’s yours?” Em motions to you with her vape as she steps into the house. Angel trails behind her, yapping on about aliens or some shit.

You see Oj nod from the corner of your eye as Angel makes you his next victim, asking “Do you believe in aliens?” like you didn’t see the picture of Jean Jacket on the news. Oj watches in quiet fascination as you fall quickly into Angel’s rant, nodding and adding your own two cents every once in a while when Angel needs a second to breathe (which, rarely happens, unsurprisingly).

The house gets loud pretty quickly, with Em quizzing you on who you are and if you’re any good for her brother in one ear and Angel going on tangent after tangent in the other. Oj’s content to just watch, to see you get loud with people who also enjoy being loud. He’s getting to know all the sides of you, learning the outgoing side he saw in the truck on your first date, learning the quiet side he sees on those music and lemonade nights, learning the soft side he sees when you two make love, learning the side of you that likes it rough and carnal, learning what makes you you.

After a while of talking and sipping lemonade with your copy of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” album spinning, Oj joins Em in the kitchen.

“She reeled you in, didn’t she.” Em questions with a smile, poking fun at her brother with the smooth notes of “Human Nature” filling the house.

“Yeah, she did.” he admits with a nod and a smile. “She something special.”

“I can tell. she got you smiling and shit. You ain’t smiled this much since before.. you know. And from talking to her it seem like she’s what you need.”

“She makes me happy. For real.” is all he says, and Emerald knows what he means without him having to say anything else.

When Em and Angel leave for the night, you ask him one question, standing across from him in the kitchen, him leaning against the counter.

“I make you happy?” You ask.

“Hell yeah. You been making me happy since you came here that first day.” He hopes you believe him.

And you do. You can see a future with him. He sees one with you too.

When you both fall asleep in each other’s arms, you’re content.

–

It’s hot as fuck. Like, hot. It’s been a month or so living on the ranch, so you’re growing accustomed to the heat. But shit.

Oj’s feeling the effects of the sun too, wiping sweat off his forehead every second it seems. You take a second to lean against the stables for just a moment, just enough to catch your breath.

“You good?” he asks when he sees you stop tending to Ghost.

“Yeah.” you huff, fanning yourself. “It’s just hot as hell.”

You see him reach down to turn the hose on, and you pay him no mind. He’s just giving the horses some water.

Then you feel water hit you.

“Oj.” you laugh, wiping your face off.

“Yeah?” He feigns innocence. “I’m just tryna cool you off.” It’s sweet, really, his playfulness mixing with him caring for you, making sure you don’t pass the fuck out.

It turns into a water fight, the hose making its way from your hands to his, wetting him up too.

Eventually, the hose is dropped on the ground, spraying water up over you two while you kiss, laughing in between.

–

It’s not all love-making with Oj, though, not all sappy moments and heartfelt confessions. Oj knows how to break you just the way you like.

Over the months he’s learned you like it face down in the pillows sometimes, his hips snapping strong and determined into you, cock pressed right up against that spot. He’s learned you like when controls you, when he takes the reins.

“You can take it, beautiful. You got that shit.” You sob into the pillow, writhe and thrash in his grasp as he tightens his hand around your wrists, pushes them closer to your back where he has them pulled behind you.

“You feel me deep, don’t you? Feel me deep in this pussy, my pussy.” You couldn’t form words even if you were able to. He knows this, knows his voice, his accent, his drawl all get you that much wetter. “Its mine, hm?” he knows all of you belongs to him. All of you, down to your soul, belongs to him.

“Yours.” you choke out, tell him what he knows already. He makes you come so many times that night, you just barely pass out.

–

Things go so easy. It’s so easy to love Oj and it’s so easy for him to love you.

The first time he says it is completely on purpose, about 6 months after that first date, and 5 months after you moved in.

It’s a night that goes like many of yalls nights, sipping lemonade and spinning records. The conversation is meaningless, but meaningful because it’s with you. And then things get silent, and it gives Oj a moment to lay in what he has with you. The words make perfect sense when they roll from his lips.

“I love you.” His eyes are trained on yours.

“I love you too.” You’re sure about it. You’ve loved him for a long time.

And that’s the end of it. It isn’t a big deal, because you both knew what it was you were feeling before you even felt the urge to put words to it.

You love him. And he loves you too.

–

It’s funny how a quick visit to see some horses could evolve into this.

Moving onto the ranch, making love whenever you both please, letting Oj break you the way you love and he loves too. Kisses and I love you’s shared, horse rides and lemonade and dates in his truck, with and without music playing. Compliments on your hairstyles and reminding you to wear your bonnet, late night runs to the nearest store, dates at Jupe’s Claim. Water fights on days when it gets wayyy too hot. Nights spent listening to music and talking about the most mundane of things, eyes and lips always landing on your lover.

He eventually tells you exactly how Pops died. How that shit fucked up him up bad. But he makes sure you know he’s grateful for you, thanks whoever’s listening that you walked into his laugh with a love for something he loved too and shy ass smile.

“You make me happy in a way I aint felt in a long time.” he tells you in bed between kisses one night with you wrapped up in his arms. You’re glad you could do that for him.

“You make me feel safe. You make me feel seen.” He’s glad he could do that for you.

Funny how one meeting could spawn all this

#oj haywood smut #oj haywood x reader #oj haywood x black reader

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would-they-listen-to-that · 13 days ago

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Hi, could you do a Charles Emerson Winchester III (mash) x reader playlist??? thank you!!!!

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡ heck yes! ugh, i can already hear Charles complaining about my 'plebian' music choices. maybe he should run this blog instead, haha!

The Carnival of the Animals, R. 125: XIII. The Swan - Camille Saint-Saëns

Clair de Lune, L. 32 - Claude Debussy

Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor, Op. 18: Adagio sostenuto - Sergei Rachmaninoff

16 Waltzes, Op. 39: No. 15 In A Flat Major - Johannes Brahms

Stardust - Nat King Cole

Amore mio aiutami - Piero Piccioni

The Planets, Op. 32: II. Venus, the Bringer of Peace - Gustav Holst

Laendler - Irwin Kostal

I Can Dream, Can't I - The Andrews Sisters

Embraceable You - Judy Garland

thanks for dialing in!

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callsigngray · 11 months ago

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Till death do us part

(Ghost x fem! Reader)

A/n- heres a lil oneshot for you all , thank you @personwhosucksassatmath for the idea. they are a wonderful person so go follow them and this fanfic is also posted on my wattpad and another thing (DO NOT REPOST ON OTHER PLATFORMS WITHOUT MY KNOWLEDGE OR CONSENT !!) but for the most part enjoy ladies and gentlemen!

WARNING - suicide

It had been about 5 years since you and ghost had been together. life was different between you and simon now compared to when he had first met you when you were both in the same unit. you got married the third year of the relationship and stood married for the rest of the two. At first he was cold , uncaring and very bitter but hwnr you got to know Simon he broke down his walls and let you in and what you saw was a sad and broken man. He was torn from his childhood , stripped from being himself and he simply just had to survive growing up but when he found you that wound that had been opened for many years started to heal and close.

he found peace within you and you were his safe place.

Recently he had been off on duty working per usual while you stood at home working at your desk as you had been discharged and , he was out with the others of task force 141 and simply doing the missions and such that Laswell had sent them all on but there had been a mission that's been going on for over a few months. It was a cartel, a very dangerous one at that. him and the others of task force 141 had been assigned to look for tyhe leader and as they had went on the search soap had gotten killed. when you heard the news of soaps death it crushed you but most of all it crushed simon.

Simons has been so stressed lately , he hasn't eaten , stopped sleeping properly and he hasn't contacted you one bit. soap had been the one to tell you about his conditions and your heart broke as you read the letter soap had sent. recent events had been hard but as you stood currently in the living room watching tv nestled into the couch cushions you jumped as you heard the front door open and slam.you instantly stood up , your heart rate speeding up and your breath going more shallow as your thoughts ran. you went to walk to see what it was but your heart dropped when you saw simon standing before you , covered in dirt and grim as well as there was dried up blood on his gear. you saw the anger and betrayal in his eyes as he stood before you at a good 6 feet away.

his eyes were tired. you saw how his eyes grew glossy the longer he looked at you and you saw how his fists were balled up at his sides. The room was tense and the longer you both stood quite the thicker the tension grew. You could tell Simon wanted to shout out at you , you saw the way he held back his anger just by the way he held himself. He was tense , fists were balled up and the silence was palpable but what was even worse was the guilt.

‘’ simon whats going on–’’

‘’thats ghost to you , you know what fuck you did.’’

he cut you off , his deep tone gruff and quiet as he spoke as he tried to keep a level headed attitude but you both knew that couldn't happen. your eyes widened as you looked into his eyes , behind that mask you knew was a hurt man but most of all an angry one.

you were scared , he just stood there for a moment and as you tried to get close you saw him reach for his side where his gun stood holsted. you sighed and you shook your head before your face grew dark and serious. a look of guilt was starting to creep up onto your face slowly as things got tenser when he pushed you into the wall nesby harshly causing you to wince as you felt the wind practically get knocked out of your lungs but before you could react you get the sharp blade of a knife against your neck. he had you pinned down with nowhere to go. you knew that in this moment it changed everything , the way Simon viewed you , the way he looked at you but most of all the one thing that would never change for you was his love.

‘’I loved you…I trusted you and this is what you do behind my back? was all of it a lie just to get here?’’

His tone was firm and blunt but there was a deep unexplainable sadness and grief that lay behind his tone. you couldn't even look him in the eyes when you knew that he knew. you had secretly been working undercover for a well known terrorist group out in the outskirts of Mexico importing drugs in and out but most of all you were the reason for so many innocent deaths. Simon would never usually dare lay a hand on you but in this moment everything was different , he was different. Once he found out that you were the reason for soap's death he knew that there was no way in hell that he would let this go. soap was his everything and he wasn't going to give that up easily regardless if you were his wife or not but now all he saw you as was a target.

‘’ghost i…’’

you couldn't get the words out , there was no justifying what you did and you knew that whatever was going to be done with you was well deserved and you knew all too well that death would be a part of it.

‘’for what? all this for what?’’

he was breaking, his tone was filled with sadness and a feeling of betrayal.

tears filled your eyes as you heard his words and you shook your head.

‘’i love you , i truly do….i cannot justify what i did….i know what you must do.’’

you kept a steady tone but your watery eyes showed otherwise. as simon saw this he felt his hand , the one that held the knife up to your neck start to shake a little.

‘’ i love you simon for you , i love everything about you but find someone worth fighting for…’’

you felt his grip tighten on you.

‘’I FOUGHT FOR YOU I WAS THE ONE TRYING TO KEEP YOU SAFE ONLY TO FIND OUT THAT YOU WERE THE ONE INVOLVED , I LOVED YOU Y/N WITH MY EVERYTHING’’

he shouted as he let his anger and emotions boil over.

‘’I LOVED YOU I NEVER WANTED TO BE THE ONE TO END UP IN THIS POSITION , NEVER. I LOVED YOU SO MUCH , I CARED ABOUT SOAP BUT HERE I AM ONLY TO FIND OUT EVERYTHING WAS YOU.””

his words cut through you like a sharp knife , you shook you head and looked him in the eyes.

‘’ finish the mission….do what you came to do. just know in the end that i loved you and know that not everything will be the same but i will always be out there for you and looking out for you.’’

These were your last words before you managed to grab the gun in his thigh holster and you shot yourself. his eyes widened as he saw the red flash past his eyes and your body grew limp as you slid down the wall and onto the floor with a thud with the gun still in your hand. the blood pooling around your body as the red crimson flowed from your head. Simon felt his hands shake as he kneeled down to you seeing your now lifeless body lay before him. He felt his breathing hitch in his throat as he gently held you. it was over. life was over and he felt it held no meaning anymore. The mission was over but what now?. he silently just held you. you were the only person in life that he loved , the only person he'd let touch him , the only person he'd hold at night and keep secrued when having bad dreams but now his life held no meaning. just sadness. he lifted his mask halfway and kissed your now growing cold forhead and he took the gun from your hand

he couldn't take it.

another shot rang off.

he was sure when you all read your wedding vows but now they came true.

until death do us part.

#ghost mw2 #mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost fanfiction #mw2 fanfic

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shuaraes · 1 year ago

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‘If loving you is a sin, hell is where i’ll go’ | k.mg

-‘i’ll love you till the world’s end’

drabble | 0.63k | assassin! au | angst

*REPOST FROM OLD BLOG

murder and death have surround kim mingyu ever since the day of his birth, hence the life of an assassin came second nature to him. however when you were assigned as his next target he never thought that the hardest part of his mission would be falling in love with you

~ paring . kim mingyu x gender-neutral!reader

~ content . assassin!au, low key royalty! au, forbidden love, angst, mingyu is reader’s bodyguard

~ tw. implied murder, mentions of the afterlife, morally grey mc

~ song rec. born to die - lana del rey

~ authors note. sorry if you’re seeing this again 😭 but if you haven’t happy reading !!

THE TRUTH IS that no one knows for sure what happens when we die. There is no definitive answer to the question of whether or not being in love is a sin that would result in someone going to hell. When it comes to salvation, everyone has their own hopes and dreams of what would become of them at the beginning of the end.

To Mingyu, you were his salvation, the light in his life that he never wanted to go out. He swore your smile was brighter than dawn break and your eyes shone with everything he could have ever wanted. And there you were, the impossible cradled in his arms.

The dagger in his pocket weighed heavier than the stars in the midnight sky. The light of the moon streamed through the open window of your bedchamber, illuminating you both like actors on a stage. Your sleeping face like porcelain, rested against the silk. You were beautiful, Mingyu thought tirelessly to himself, too beautiful to kill.

Mingyu had spent his entire life killing. The blood of leaders of evil empires and of the innocent who knew a little too much stained his hands like eternal paint. Their blood haunting him all the same. You were just supposed to be another name to add to onto his body count, a list of people gullible enough to trust his lies.

Yet Mingyu does not regret falling in love with you, falling in love with you may have been his greatest achievement in this cursed thing we call life.

His most high profile and difficult mission yet; killing the heir., you were your kingdom’s crown jewel. Mingyu hid himself among all your palace staff, his job was to become your daily life. He brought you your breakfast every morning, when you were gone, he fluffed your pillows and drew your curtains. When you left the palace, he sat next to you in the carriage making sure no one could kill you (apart from him of course).

There was no specific date where Mingyu declared to himself that he was in love with you. But when you kissed him suddenly one April morning, feelings of romance were increasingly hard to deny. Your lips tasted of citrus and your scent was of forests in the garden of Eden. Before he could register what he had gotten himself into, you had fallen deeper than you could have ever expected. His golden brown eyes infatuated you and you wouldn’t let go until you had broken him down so much that he had become you and you had become him.

Mingyu knew that you both were fighting a losing battle, but he could never say no to you. When it came to your love, it was his life or yours. A life without you in his world wasn’t worth living to him.

He locked eyes with your closed ones as you lay next to him deep in sleep, in his head he heard your silent pleas. He knew that if he did this, his fate would stand sealed in eternity’s stone. He pulled the dagger out from its holst. The blade gleamed like the jewels lying on your bedside table. Engraved in the wooden handle were the words ‘till the world’s end’, the motto of his rebel group, the motto of anarchy he lived his life by, until you. You would have loved him till his end and he vowed to do the same for you, whenever his end would be.

There was comfort in the thought that death would be better than the world that you both found yourself in. He’d knew you'd die, but when you wake you’d find yourself in a gold chariot and fields of sweet honey and rivers of porcelain milk. A world without suffering, pure bliss and happiness like you deserved Yet as he held that dagger, his own fate was ever more complicated. There was no knowing where he’d be tomorrow. However in the end, he knew: whether he loved you or hated you, whether he spared your life or killed you like he originally intended, hell is where he’d find himself for a love that felt worse than sin.

#seventeen angst #seventeen x reader #seventeen oneshot #seventeen drabble #seventeen fanfic #svt angst #svt x reader #svt drabble #kim mingyu angst #kim mingyu x reader #i remember this being so fun to write #anyways i promise something new very very soon !!

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songsofadelaide · 2 years ago

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Atmospherics

Balthus was there on the day your father declared you the new Baron Goulding, the start of the Wyvern Moon heralding your house's new leadership. When you smiled at your constituents so warmly and gave thanks for their well-wishes, he tried desperately to dismiss the thought of ever standing by your side— But you beamed at him like he was the only person there, a wreath of Goulding's finest crops and berries on your head like a coronet fit for a baron. He's overstayed his welcome, but he still clapped alongside everyone else— like he lived there. Like he belonged there.

Even when you were still at the academy, when everyone had their eyes on Holst, you had yours on him. You never failed to make him feel so seen, after all. That was no good now since he always had to be running and hiding.

Spoilers for the Golden Wildfire route. Reader is not My Unit.

[A Balthus von Albrecht x Reader one-shot]

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leechmilf · 2 years ago

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Crimson snow

⇢Low Honor! Arthur Morgan x F! reader

CW: injuries, swearing, violence, suggestive themes I guess?

---

Click.

Another click.

The pistol wailed at the forfeit of it's ammo, the sound echoing in the room. Indicating the bearer is more vulnerable every second. The ruffian, supposedly collecting debts, was trapped. Inhaling the cold zephyr like the other men in the building.

Trapped. Like an animal. By the bounty hunters.

"How does it feel now, Mr. Morgan? How does it feel to be the one losing, hm?" One of the men, dressed in a red and black suit, circled him. Revolver holsted. Why do it himself, when he has his men wrapped around his finger?

"I ain't losing. Now face me like a real man, will ya?" Arthur holsted his pistol, instead taking out his skull engraved knife and getting into a defensive position, silently noting the column close to him. The bounty hunter rised his hand, giving his subordinates a sign to lower their weapons. "Feeling lucky today, Morgan?" He took out his own weapon.

Arthur waited for the first slash, giving the other man space. After a few seconds, it finally came, blocking it with his arm he closed the space between them. His free hand snatched the gold coated gun on the mans hip, using the momentum to bash his opponents head.

Thanking whoever gave him luck for the shock he caused, he quickly hid behind the column. Rolling out the revolver, it was full. He really was lucky today, huh.

He headshoted all of the men who were unfortunate enough to stick out their head at the wrong time. But of course, the revolver isn't magical. Tossing it on the floor, he counted the remaining opponets. 3. Time to take it up close and personal.

One of the men was up on the stairway, gun ready. If he tried to make it personal now, he would be dead in a matter of second.

Throwing knives. He rummaged through his satchel, finding one.

Holding the knife he peeked out of the other side of the column, aimed at the man and threw the knife, hoping for the best as he was still new to them.

The knife pierced the mans skull, making him roll his eyes to the back of his head as he dropped his gun. Arthur let ouf a sigh of relief as he watched the other two men, taking out his knife.

He ran out of his hiding spot to the man closest to him, the bounty hunters gaze was glued to his friends corpse rolling down the stairs. Arthur used this to his advantage as he took him from behind, and slashed his neck. Letting the man fall on the floor, he shifted his gaze to his last victim.

"Now what to do with you?"

He walked closer to the man, knowing he has the upper hand. He grabbed his chemise and lifted him to his feet. "You like livin'?" Arthur smiled.

That's where his luck decided to leave him.

Arthur felt harsh, piercing pain in his lower abdomen. He let the man go when he saw a pocket knife sticking out his muscled body. His dark blue coat staining with red as he grunted in pain. It has been a long while since he had his own blood coating his body, but he knew his luck had to run out at some point.

He knew he couldn't take it out now, as it would only make the bleeding stronger, instead he closed his hand around the knife to hold it in place. He looked at the cowering man at his feet, as his teeth gritted in agony.

"You have a death wish don't you.." he growled through his teeth. The outlaw rised his knee, kicking the bounty hunter in his jaw. He cried out in pain, begging for his life even, but Arthur didn't have any of that as he delivered another hard stomp to his stomach.

"Fuck.." Arthur grumbled as he watched the man bleed out, himself included. There has to be a first aid kit somewhere..

Scrambling around the house, he found nothing, just some booze and a few cigars. The sound of horse hooves interrupted him from his search. He crouched to the window. More bounty hunters. He growled under his breath as he looked around. Back doors.

---

The calming sound of wood crackling filled the snowy cabin. The flames devouring the timber making it crumble in the comfiness of the fireplace. Smell of a freshly brewed stew present too.

A woman, humming a melody, took out a spoon from the drawers and tried out the stew, making sure it had the right amount of seasoning. Feeling pleased, she took out a ladle and a bowl. Pouring herself the meal.

She sat at the table, enjoying some well deserved food. Living in the mountains wasn't easy, so when she found a rabbit in one of her traps this morning, she was more than pleased. After she finished off the last bits, she washed the bowl.

Sighing, she looked out of her window. It was dark outside, a snowstorm coming up. It made her think of how life could have been, if her parents haven't tried to make her marry a man she hardly knew, that's also the reason she's up here.

Resting her head on her palms, she rubbed her face in disgust from what could have been, if she hadn't ran away, she would be bearing the mans children and maybe even worse. She closed her eyes, trying to think of something nicer.

Suddenly, the wooden door of her cabin gave a loud creak, making her head turn in shock. She saw a man. A man at the brink of his death, leaving a crimson trail up her doorstep. They locked eyes, he said;

"Come here, and don't do anything stupid." The woman nodded, noting the weapons holsted on his hip, making her gulp as she rised her hands. "Good girl.." The man harsly turned her around the second she was in his arm's reach. Unsheatling his knife, he held it to her throat with his other hand holding her.

"Do you own any medical supplies?" his body felt cold on hers as she nodded slowly.

"Where?" she poined to a wooden cabinet, "Fucking hell.." he whimpered, the fatigue present in his voice. He beckoned her to walk to the cabinet. "Open it." he ordered, the woman opened the cabinet with trembling hands, taking out the first aid kit.

"Good, now do me a favour and don't do anything you'll regret." he said as he took the box from her hands, limping to the dining table.

The woman couldn't help but admire his broad shoulders.

He sat down with a groan as he opened the first aid kit. His brows furrowed.

"What's your name?" he asked. "It's Y/n L/n, Mr.." She said casually, not wanting to anger him anymore. "Well Y/n, best you don't know my name. But I'm gonna need you to pull this outta me." You raised your brows in confusion. He only sighed in annoyance as he removed his coat, a black vest stained dark and a white dress shirt underneath with knife poking out of his abdomen was exposed to you.

You let out a shuddering breath with an 'okay' as you walked closer to him. You gripped the handle of the knife, looking into his eyes he gave you a slight nod as he tried to control his breathing. You yanked it out of his body as he groaned in pain. Tossing the knife to the side quickly, you pressed on the wound, making him grit his teeth together.

You knelt in front of him, "If you want me to help, you'll need to strip out of your top, this is gonna need stitching." he growled as he started to pop the buttons of his black vest. Sliding it off his arms he did the same with his dress shirt, but this time peeling it off his wound with a whimper.

"Do your magic, woman." he sighed as he placed his hat on the table.

---

How much does this man weight?

I dragged him to my bed, in effort of trying to make him more comfortable. He passed out a few moments after he removed his clothes, at my own mercy. His wound is all cleaned and dressed now, ready to heal.

I covered him with the comforter, I removed his clothes to let them dry up until the morning, hoping he wouldn't wake up until then. But I do have to say, he's a rather handsome man, the years of hand work present on his body. I thought as I softly slid my hand across his well built chest.

I sighed, tired myself. He looked rather peaceful, not reminiscent to the male I first saw at my doorstep.

I took one of my spare blankets and laid down close to the fireplace, obeserving the man's peaceful face, noticing his scars in the process. I sighed contently as I closed my eyes, waiting for what the morning will bring.

---

Someone's staring at me.

I shifted in my bed, feeling a strong presence behind me, not wanting to open my eyes just yet.

"I know you're awake." A deep voice behind said in amusement. I opened my eyes far too quickly, looking around me. I was in my bed, but I fell asleep next to the fireplace? I turned around, there, next to me, was the man from yesterday laying on his side, looking quite content with a smirk on his face.

"Well good morning, doe. Quite the spirit to have an unknown man in your bed." He laughed. "You do realise what I could do to you.." He said with a more serious tone as he grabbed my chin.

"Uh, I only put you on my bed to make you more comfortable, plus I don't think you would appreciate it if I left you to sleep on the chair, mister" I said, embarassed.

He put on his pants at this point. Thanks God.. He left my chin as he sat up, "Well, look outside the window. You won't be pleased, doe." He smirked even more. I did as he said, there was a harsh snowstorm going on.

"Guess I'll have to stay longer, huh."

Smug bastard.

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frickingnerd · 1 year ago

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dating holst goneril

pairing: holst sigiswald goneril x gn!reader

tags: fluff, established relationship, simp!holst

a/n: i am a simp for this man 👉🏻👈🏻🥺

holst is such a devoted boyfriend, he would do anything for you!

honestly, he's spoiling you rotten to the point where he can get a bit overbearing at times

he wants to make his partner as happy as he can and will always ask you if he can do something for you

he'll cook for you, he'll make you gifts and he's always protecting you in battle

if you wanted to, you would never have to lift a finger again in your life, because holst would do anything for you instead

though he does get really happy when you do something for him in return!

he's especially happy when you cook for him and the two of you get to have a cute little dinner date all by yourself, somewhere a bit away from the base

he won't stop complimenting you for the food and he'll eat every last bit of it, since he doesn't want to leave leftovers after you worked so hard to make this food for him!

he's also pretty clingy and would honestly love to spend as much time with you as he can!

he always has an arm wrapped around you or when the two of you are going somewhere together, he insists on carrying you!

hilda is quite happy that someone else now gets all her brother's love and she has more time for herself again

though she does like you a lot and she appreciates how happy you make her brother!

and holst is really happy too, knowing you and his sister get along so well!

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eureka-its-zico · 3 years ago

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Forever...(Is a long time)

Summary: Your best friend in the world just so happened to be your partner in the bureau. In a last minute request, she asks that you help her husband with their kids. Your life never mapped out anything domesticated and you didn't know the first thing about kids. But when life throws you off course you only have two options: do you turn your back on your best friend's wish or do you become the person she always knew you could be?

A/N: Here I go again. Writing another series before I ever officially finish anything else. I totally blame the fact I dreamed about this story, and after I dreamed about DILF!Jungkook...well, my brain wouldn't allow me to do anything else. As always, I hope someone out there enjoys this and that it interests someone out there. So without further ado, here is Part 1. Much love, Jenn

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: DILF!Jungkook, slow burn, friends to lover

Words: 10,435

Disclaimer: This chapter has mild violence and talks about grief.

There was always something that could be said before you went on a mission. A lot of it was chalked up to acting like you were fearless, when you were anything but. The possible unknowns always hung heavy like a storm cloud over you. Your heart beating to the tune of an unforgiving adrenaline rush that always threatened to put you over the edge. It was always a possibility your flight would take over; the fight deciding it was time to skip town. And when that moment happened, all you had to do was look to your partner beside you.

You’d been partnered with Jeon Li since basic. The two of you not starting off on the best of terms (sort of happens when you keep eating their favorite cereal...and using up their toothpaste). It took a lot of getting used to the other - learning how the other chose to operate. Li was always the more patient of the two of you. She was always looking at the ends and outs. She made sure there was a solid entrance and exit plan just in case things went south.

That was just her thing. Li was like that even off the field. If you had a girls’ day, it was planned all the way down to what time you changed into swimsuits. How long that swim lasted until the scheduled dinner time was always up for debate. It didn’t escape anyone who ever met her why she was the top field agent in, and outside, the office. Whenever someone received new intel, Li was the first one they called. She was the brains. The master behind every well thought out plan. Li lived for data and code cracking, but not so much for the messier side of field work that usually happened.

That’s where you came in. If Li was the brains you were most definitely the brawn. You were constantly chastised for not thinking and just doing.

“You always rush ahead,” she’d criticize, sounding more like a tired mother than a friend.

“It’s alright. I had it covered.”

“Oh yeah? He had a double barreled shotgun, y/n.”

“Yeah okay, well, the door more importantly had me covered.”

You showcased the half exploded door that now resembled a Dutch door. Your hands playfully swinging back the top piece like the shattered wood wasn’t going to splinter off further than it already had.

It wasn’t that you weren’t smart; you were capable of doing half of what Li could, but only half. You weren’t into looking at endless amounts of code a day trying to cypher out information or taking your time to write up incident reports when shit went sideways. You didn’t really have the patience to write out eloquently what exactly transpired between point A and B and why, when you got to C, bullets started flying.

Your superiors were quick to remind you this was categorized in their book as a, “Character flaw.” It wasn’t a character flaw to them when they sent you out begging for results, but that was an argument for a different day. Today, you were sitting here in the helicopter, your best friend reading off the debrief while you double checked your weapons, and asking you why you never settled down.You were in the middle of holstering your browning high-power and rolling your eyes at Li’s latest attempt at getting you to find a steady relationship...or home.

“Seriously, y/n, at some point you’re going to find someone who is going to make you stop running.”

You couldn’t keep the snort from escaping you. Your hands pulling tightly on the velcro of your bulletproof vest to make sure it was secured.

“Li. The kids and husband thing - that’s all you.”

“It could be a you thing too. You just have to find someone that makes you believe that.”

“Fairytales are meant for children so they believe in a better world. Unfortunately, I live in the real world. Not a fairytale. There’s too much ugly in it for me to ever see it as something magical.”

A sad smile left Li looking pained instead of amused. Which, it was accurate. This sort of discussion always left her a little more defeated each time you had them. Li moved to place her tablet at her side. Her own hands moving to check the comms channel for your ear pieces, and always checking on her gun last.

“You know, magic isn’t just for children but they damn sure help remind you the world is full of it. There is still good in this world worth fighting for; people worth fighting for. I pray one day you get to experience that, my friend.”

You weren’t sure what you could’ve told her. Your cynical heart was already geared up to block out whatever rays of sunshine Li was trying to spread, but this time you didn’t bother. If only Li knew that she was a reason for you to keep fighting. She was one of those good people, full of magic, and stories of wonder she no doubt told her children. You’d never met her husband, Jungkook. The unfortunate thing about working for a bureau: if one part of the team is off, the partner isn’t. Weddings and births included. From all the wonderful things you’d heard about him from Li’s gushing, you knew he must have been full of sunshine and rainbows, just like Li. A match made in heaven.

Except, she never could tell him what she did for a living. Not the real her, anyways and that was something Li seemed to regret.

“We drop in five, ladies!” the pilot informed you over the comms.

You and Li moved to stand at the edge of the chopper. The both of you latching your hooks to the chopper and the other on the rope. You were already starting to say your hail mary’s and trying to keep your knees from knocking together. God, how you hated heights.

“It is always nice to see after all this time, the Great Y/N is still scared of heights,” Li chuckled over the comms.

“Yeah, well God couldn’t make us all perfect,” you snipped back.

You were still holding the rope for dear life when the pilot yelled out, “Go!” Your teeth bit down violently into your bottom lip to keep yourself from screaming as you took that first step off. The sensation of your body plummeting down towards the rooftop below you was a shockwave of wind. If your knees wouldn’t get blown out from impact, you happily would’ve closed your eyes instead of watching the earth come speeding towards you like the worst kind of high-speed chase.

When your feet finally connected with the cement roof, you were grateful for the piercing bite of the impact in your feet that ricocheted to your knees. You couldn’t get yourself detached from the rope fast enough.

“If it wasn’t for us being on a time limit I would definitely stop to kiss the floor,” you groaned.

Li shook her head as she double checked her equipment. A genuine smile creased her eyes as she patted you on the back in support.

“Pigeons poop on this, y/n.”

“I would still kiss it. Pigeon poop and all.”

“I’m going to pretend you never said that.”

It was your turn to make sure all your gear had made it intact. Your right hand sliding into your holster to draw your gun free, and pointing it down towards the floor. Your body joined in on the crouched position of Li who was only a few feet ahead of you. Her hands quickly worked on picking the roof door lock. She had it open in seconds.

She motioned for you to take point and your legs quickly brought you forward. All the joking and talks of the million dollar question of will you, or won’t you, ever settle down came to a halt. Inside the close contact quarters of these hallways was the real-life chance of fucking up and someone dying. Today was not the day Li or you were dying. Not on your watch. Not in your fucking lifetime.

You made a quick motion for her to follow behind you as you raised your gun. The end of the barrel helped your eyes scope out every stairwell and doorway until you came to the one you’d been looking for.

“The sixteenth floor is where the intel is located.”

Li’s voice couldn’t have been more than a whisper. You were the only two in here, but old habits die hard and it was better to be as silent as possible. No one wanted a repeat of what happened in Morocco.

Your response was a curt nod as you pressed your back against the wall. Your free hand reaching out to take hold of the doorknob. Li responded by placing her back on the opposite side, her gun ready and pointed towards the door. You counted to three inside your head and flung the door open. Your gun moving like a third arm as you turned to the open hallway to find it empty. You kept your gun trained as Li brought up the rear.

You took note of the cameras and quickly moved to bring your neck mask up towards your nose. The can off spray paint already coming out of your cargo pocket. You gave it a good shake before reaching up and covering the camera lens in black.

“I could’ve just disabled those.”

You gave a small shrug as your hand slid the can back inside your cargo pocket. Li now took point to head towards the last door on the left.

“Disabling them doesn’t cost these assholes money to replace them.”

“I swear you were a low budget criminal in another life.”

“Thanks, Li. That’s sweet.”

She couldn’t see it, but you were smiling under your mask. Li didn’t have to see you to give a disapproving head shake, but you knew underneath she was trying not to crack a smile. You both wasted no more time sweeping each room before you finally got to the executive's office. Once Li made sure there was nothing hidden from keeping her from the computer, she was glued to the chair. Her fingers raced over the keys as you kept point with your gun trained on the door.

It was too quiet; too easy. You’ve had easy jobs before, but when you’d first got this brief the first thing you’d noticed was that the man in question, who was possibly selling weapons to foreign adversaries, was ex-military. Ex-military meant a head full of paranoia. You’d done your own recon of the building on multiple occasions. Memorized the layout in case of the need for a quick exit or a place to hide. You’d counted endless amounts of cameras and sensors. So why has it been so easy to get in here?

You should’ve been met by alarms blaring somewhere in the building. A guard roaming the hall to hunt down whatever could’ve caused a disturbance. Instead, the only sound that you heard was the ghosts of empty offices. Your hands were beginning to sweat from the dread that was building in your gut, but was there really a reason for it?

“You almost done back there, Li?”

“Yeah, yeah I’ve got it. Everything okay?”

Your eyes scanned rapidly over the glass window and the door you’d left wide open. Was that...was there movement in the reflection?

“Yeah...no. Li, I don’t think we’re alone he-”

You didn’t get a chance to finish before something was tossed inside the room. Your brows raised into your hairline as shockwaves of adrenaline took root inside your veins. You didn’t know what was in that canister, but you weren’t going to chance it.

“Li, get down!” you screamed.

You launched your body over the desk. A protective arm grabbing her on your way down and forcing her to join you on the floor. A second later the canister exploded in a cloud of smoke. Luckily, you still have your face covered. It wasn’t going to protect your lungs completely, but it was more than Li had who was currently choking back on the smoke.

“Shit.”

Your voice was heavy and laced with venom that spit out against your lips. The oncoming footsteps told you plainly that you weren’t being greeted by one or two security guards. No, whoever was coming was not security, and there were a lot of the fuckers. You needed to find a way to vent the room so Li could get air, but if the people coming down the hall were armed, which you heavily suspected, you were both going to need a lot more than air.

“Li! Is there a fire escape behind us? Li!”

You watched as her eyes looked up at yours. Sheer panic made them grow wider with each passing second until her body became racked with painful coughs. You gave her a shake trying to stop the panic from overtaking her completely. The only thing you could think to do, the only thing that mattered, was taking off your mask and placing it over her mouth. The smoke of the grenade hit your lungs instantly with your first breath. It took everything in you not to start hacking up one or both of your lungs.

“Li, listen to me! We need to get out of here! We only have a couple minutes before they are on us.”

You were still holding the mask to her face. Tears now streaking your cheeks as you struggled to hold in a gut wrenching cough. Li’s gaze met yours with a desperation noticeably behind them.

“The office next door has the actual fire escape.” She was able to get the last word out before her body became overwhelmed with a cough. This time you were quick to join her.

God, it felt like you’d swallowed sandpaper.

“We can’t get to the next room-“

Before you could finish that thought a mass of gunfire erupted in the room.

“Push!” You ordered.

The two of you used your shoulders to tip over the large oak desk and scurried to hide behind the thickest part of the legs. The room was thick with the sound of bullets leaving the chamber and embedding themselves in the wood. The glass window behind you shattering into a million pieces with pieces of books and papers flying up around you like feathers.

“This is Jeon Li! We’ve been compromised I repeat, we’ve been com-“

Another flurry of bullets came to cover up the next gas grenade that launched over the side of the desk. Li and you turned in sync to look at each other. A perfect, “Oh, fuck,” sending you up from behind the desk and straight to the exposed window. You had no choice but to turn and open suppressing fire while you waited for the stupid thing to go off. If you were wrong and it was an actual grenade, you were both fucked.

You both glanced over the side and noticed there was barely a small ledge to stand on. Just enough to, hopefully, hug the wall and shimmy over to the fire escape.

“Go! I’ll cover you, Li!”

“Y/n, no-“

“Don’t fuckin argue with me, Li just go!”

If you could’ve shoved her without accidentally sending her over the edge, you would have. That fear that had laced itself deep inside your gut was trying to call itself adrenaline and, hell, maybe it was but you knew better. The thundering in your chest was a fear so sharp it left you dizzy. The thought of Li not making it out of here to see her babies…Jeongsan was only a few months old.

No. You were getting her out of here.

You started opening fire. Your eyes caught movement behind the door and glass. You got a few good shots off right before the grenade of smoke exploded into your view. Your arm instinctively shot up to try and protect your throat and nose, but without proper masks your lungs were pretty much being eaten alive by smoke.

You watched as Li disappeared on the side of the building and you moved to follow suit. The next few bullets you fired off went blindly towards the door. Right before you stepped out of the room and onto the ledge, you made the mistake of looking down. Instantly, you felt your world begin to spin. You closed your eyes and tried to calm yourself. Either you stepped off the ledge or you were going to become a bullet bag. With one large inhale of air, you moved to take a step to the ledge.

The room erupted back into gunfire and forced you to practically throw yourself out against the building. You felt your center of gravity waiver and started praying to every available ear in the universe that you weren’t about to become a sidewalk pancake.

The shuffle of movement towards the fire escape was painfully slow. You knew you both needed to pick up the pace, but there was only so much you could do sixteen stories up. You were more than half way when you heard someone order, “Check the rooms!” And knew you were in trouble.

Li was almost to the fire escape when a head peaked out over the side.. Without thinking you lifted up your gun and started firing; forcing them back behind the protection of the wall.

“Y/n, I’m over. Jump and I’ll catch you.”

“Are you fucking crazy?!” You snapped.

She had to be if she thought you were about to attempt a jump with not even three inches under your feet. You weren’t given much of a choice when you looked through the next window and see a made in military grade armor lift up a semi-automatic directly in your direction.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck,” you groaned.

The glass broke off into a million worlds around you. The shattered pieces blowing passed you with smaller pieces slicing into your cheeks and arms. You didn’t have time to stop and check the damage. Whether you liked it or not your only option now was to jump.

You sent out another last minute prayer and hurled yourself towards the metal railing of the fire escape. You seriously hoped Li was ready for you. She didn’t disappoint.

As soon as your chest connected against the metal guard rail, Li was right there. Her arms coming over your shoulders to grab onto your vest and haul you over the side. You were still swimming your legs over when the head that had peaked out before did so again. This time with his gun trained directly on your location. You both scrambled to move down the metal stairs as he opened fire. Another rifle joined his shortly.

You were making good time down the fire escape when a stray bullet ricocheted into your left shoulder. The pain was immediate, intense, and numbing all at once. It was as if your body wasn’t sure how it was supposed to feel about your new edition, but you all could agree it was excruciating.

A scream tore free from you and you felt, more than seen, Li halted in her steps.

“Keep going!” You roared just as it began to rain bullets down on your position.

You were struggling to think of your next step. Your head felt full of ideas but you couldn’t visualize them. The adrenaline was threatening to give way to panic and if you did that it was over. For Li. For you. For whatever data Li had pulled from that server. No, you refused to go down to some mercenary grade punks. You also knew you were sitting ducks running down the stairs like this.

When they were in the middle of a reload up top and their voices were shouting about whether or not to follow after you, you took a chance to look over the railing. Five stories up. Five flights of stairs to go and a load of trash bags down below.

“We need to jump.”

You stated it so calmly you couldn’t believe it was coming from you. Apparently, neither could Li.

“Are you fucking nuts?”

“We won’t make it down without getting struck by bullets if we keep going like this, Li. We need to take the chance and jump.”

“I hope there’s not a thrown out oven or something under those trash bags,” she groaned.

Shit, you didn’t even think of that. You didn’t have time to worry about what if’s right now. The sound of magazines being inserted and guns being cocked brought you back to the present and you felt your body leap over the metal without a second thought. It wasn’t until you landed that you wished you’d given your area of choice a glance over. You were more than sure that landing twisted your ankle. Or worse

No, jumping into waiting trash wasn’t as cool as movies made it. Li and you also weren’t getting out of it without a few groans and slow movements. It didn’t matter if your brain kept reminding your body that there were guys with guns still shooting in your general direction. Your body made itself very aware it wasn’t budging on its decidedly slower pace.

You were struggling to get out of the trash bags. Your shoulder now bleeding steadily and with a sore ankle to match…yeah you were definitely the slowest man on the team. But Li came right beside you, hauling your arm over her shoulders, and placed a supportive one around your hips.

“Come on, y/n. We’re almost out of this.”

“Don’t-don’t tempt me with a good time,” you coughed.

You were both attempting to move faster than you both could possibly go. If your lungs were still burning from gas grenades, Li’s had to be in hell. But you were still moving forward and giving it your all.

You weren’t in the clear yet, though. You could hear them giving chase. The sounds of their feet smashing against the grates of the fire escape only forcing you both to move faster. If you could just get to a vehicle you were confident you could hot wire it. Petty theft in high school pays off…sometimes.

“Li…we-we just got to find a car-“

She was directing you towards the nearest one. Even if it was a couple feet away, it felt like you were running a marathon to get there. You felt close. So incredibly close when the gunfire started again.

“Y/n, find cover!”

Li didn’t give you a chance to react. To tell her to damn with hiding. It was her job to hide. Her job was to stay alive and go home to a family that loves her…that was waiting for her. You didn’t get to tell her anything as she shoved you down behind the car and drew her gun.

It felt like slow motion. Everything in front of your eyes just seemed to stop making any sense; none of it was able to register. You saw it. You know you did, because you couldn’t unsee it. Li opened fire blindly back at the men giving chase. Her other hand came to close around the gun's handle to give it more stability. Just like you’d shown her. You wish at this moment you could’ve been proud, but when you watched two slugs find a home in her gut there wasn’t any pride there. Just pure terror.

“Li!”

You forced your body to get up. Not giving your wounded ankle another thought as you used the side of the car for stability and your arm swinging wide to bring your gun up. You wish you would have reminded yourself to time your shots.

Don’t waste bullets. Aim down your sights. Control your breathing.

None of it came to mind. You couldn’t process anything. Your mind only replays the moment of Li getting shot over and over…

You weren’t even aware you were firing. That your voice was growing raw from screaming as you hobbled out from behind the car. Your ankle was doing its own form of protesting as you took steps forward to grab Li, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care that you couldn’t feel your left arm, either. The only thing that mattered was getting Li.

When you reached her you placed your hands under her arms and started dragging her back behind the car. You were trying not to pay attention to her hands limply holding onto her stomach or the blood that seeped out between her fingers.

“Stay with me, Li!”

As soon as you knew you had her safe behind the vehicle your body burst into action. Your elbow smashed into the glass of the car three times before it gave way. Your hand reached in quickly to unlock it. You pulled Li towards the backseat and shoved her in as gently as you could. Once you knew she was secured, you made your way from the passengers side to the drivers side. The whole time staying low to the seat as you ripped out the wiring from underneath the steering wheel.

“You with me, Li? Are you still with me?”

Fuck. You were crying. Your vision was blurred and you could barely make out the colors of the wires. Or was the blood loss starting to get to you? Whatever it was, it was making you clumsy. It was costing you valuable seconds. Seconds Li was losing all because you couldn’t get two fucking wires-

When the engine burst into life a happy scream left you. You almost forgot about being shot at. Almost. You were reminded seconds later when bullets burst through the windows sending shards of glass down all around you.

“I’m so sick of this shit!”

You maneuvered up as much as you could. Your hands putting the car in reverse and another hand down on the glass. You braved peaking your head out just enough to see where you were going before dropping it down just in time to have a bullet graze past your face. You pushed down on the gas not caring in which direction it was driving you towards. Anywhere was better than this shithole.

As soon as you had a clear shot to the street you took it. You made the choice to drive blind, your head barely peeking up over the steering wheel, before you slowly moved to sit all the way up.

“We made it.” You laughed in disbelief…or was that the blood loss again? You weren’t sure but- “we’re gonna be okay, Li.”

You glanced into the back seat and realized she was barely breathing. Her eyes looking back up at you glazed over from unshed tears and something that you refused to acknowledge.

“Hey, Li don’t you fucking give up on me, you hear? Your stupid husband is waiting for you to get home. Your kids too. Don’t you do this to me.”

You weren’t aware you were sobbing until it rolled through your body landing punches in your gut - threatening to double you over. You should get her to the hospital. Common sense said get her to the hospital, but she needed to put something on the wound. She needed to stop the blood…

Without thinking you pulled over and tore out of the driver side and into the back of the beat up car. You made sure you didn’t ram into her in your haste, but quickly looked around for something to stop the blood. Your hands wrapped around a blanket tossed inside of a bag and pressed it gently to her stomach. Even that small amount left Li lurching up from the seat and a cry of pain to fill the small cab.

“Li, please. Just hold this down for me. I’m gonna get you to a hospital. You’re gonna be alright, I promise.”

There was no denying that you were crying. The blurry vision from earlier now swarming completely until you could barely make out her shape. Li tried to give you a reassuring smile, but it was as if her body no longer had enough strength to do it. She struggled just to reach her hands towards you. A weak hand softly landing on top of the ones that were pressing the blanket down into her stomach.

“Y/n,” she started softly.

“No! No, you don’t get to do this here.”

“Listen-listen to me, please.”

“Li.”

You could only sob out her name. The denial heavy in her name.

“I need-I need you to help Jungkook with the kids. I need you to promise-prom…promise me you’ll be there for my kids.”

“You won’t need me to be there for them, Li. You’re gonna be there. You’re gonna be there to watch them grow up. To graduate. Get married and give you grandkids and all that other shit. This isn’t it for you, Li.”

A tear slid out from the corners of her eyes and you sent out a shaky hand to brush them away.

“Please. Please just promise me you’ll do this for me. Be there for them.”

You felt childish - shaking your head in refusal because how could you agree? How could she ask you to watch over them like a guardian when she was going to be fine? Li was going to be fine. You were going to tell her this. Force her to understand that her journey didn’t end here when-

“Jeon Li!? Li! Don’t you dare die on me!”

You checked for a pulse. You put your ear over her lips and listened for any sort of inhalation of breath. There wasn’t any. Immediately you moved to start CPR. Your body struggling to maneuver in the small space to do it properly.

You weren’t sure how long you performed it. You weren’t sure when your body decided it just couldn’t hold out anymore and stopped. You couldn’t say when you started holding her and sobbing or how long you did it for. When other agents showed up, ambulance in tow, they just said you were rocking her. Refused to let her go.

How could you let her go? How could she expect you to fulfill her promise when sometime tonight a husband would be informed his wife was gone, and her children would never have their mother again.

—————————-

A week later…

If you’ve ever felt like an outsider at a party, maximize that feeling by a thousand. Multiply it by another thousand and that would be the most accurate account of how uncomfortable you felt here in the church’s pew.

Originally, you didn’t plan on coming to Jeon Li’s funeral. Who wants to process grief in front of strangers? Or continue having to tell the stupid lie that you and Li had been the unfortunate victims of a carjacking. How sad you poor women got caught up in something horrible coming back from a work meeting. Yeah…a carjacking. What’s a better way to say that a loved one died for something pointless? To die over something as silly as a car or money just felt insulting to the woman Li truly was. Even sillier was the fact she had died for something pointless in the end.

You wanted to scream. To tell everyone she died believing she was protecting them in ways they couldn’t ever know or understand. Li went down fighting and protecting those that she loved and this…this felt like a dishonor to her memory. To find out later the information she’d tried to take was nothing more than encrypted code for a grocery store, because somehow the bad guys knew you were coming.

And now here you are: standing in a pew, two rows back, staring at the shaking shoulders of Jungkook. Li’s and his conjoined family surrounding him; his father embracing him tightly, but not bringing him fully into a hug. They surrounded him, but no one offered to hold him. They must have believed he needed to stand strong for their kids. But a two-year-old and a three-month-old cannot fully comprehend the weight of loss that had just been placed on the shoulders of a father.

You were told to go the reading of the will. Li herself had spoken about how she’d added you in a thousand times, but you never wanted to hear it. Will’s were meant for the old, not the young.

You’d been sitting at your desk for what felt like hours, but was merely minutes. The walk into the building and the repetitive show of your badge were things you’d done easily on auto-pilot. The coffee in your hand had long gone cold, but you weren’t worried about drinking it. It was more for looks. A fake show of bravado as you walked to your desk, the now empty one devoid of the person who used to sit in front of you had been cleared out over the weekend.

The spot that used to house your best friend now only held her ghost.

Your laptop was opened and waiting for you to unlock the screen. The cold coffee you’d been clutching still firmly held its place between your hands. A part of you wished you could say that all the tears you’d shed over the last few days were enough. That you could sit here, remind yourself easily this was work, and hold it together. Judging from the way your Director looked at you as he set a file down on your desk, you weren’t convincing no one.

“Go home, y/n,” he sighed.

Even as he offered up the option for you to go he placed a Manila folder down on the desk. You didn’t bother to turn to him in greeting or look to see what was labeled on the front. All you cared about was that it was work. Something to keep you busy - to keep you going.

Still holding the cold coffee, you reached out and took the folder. Your thumb moves between its folds to spread the contents open in front of you.

“No.”

That one word came out gravelly and harsh. As if you’d attempted to swallow handfuls of glass.

“I figured no matter what I did it wouldn’t make you leave,” he conceded in defeat. His hip pressed in deeper on your desk. “Your grievance PTO still isn’t over.”

“It’s over for me.”

“Y/N…Li’s Will hearing is today. I’m supposed to advise you, by her lawyer, that you are supposed to attend.”

Your hand contracted around the soft recycled cardboard of the cup. If you squeezed down any harder you’d be wearing your five dollar cup of cold brew.

“Tell them I have more important stuff to do.”

You turned your back to him and busied yourself logging into your computer. Your fingers lazily moved over the keyboards to pull up the specific file that went with the data on the folder he’d just given you. You didn’t look at him when he tried bringing your attention back to him like a two-year-old by shaking your chair.

“What Li wanted was important. Important enough to her, matter-of-fact, that she would ask all of us to remind your stubborn ass to go. So go.”

He gave your chair one last smack before he finally left you alone inside your office. You waited longer to make sure you were fully alone before glancing over at her desk. Your eyes easily spotting the family portrait she kept framed next to her computer like a sad eye-spy. You allowed yourself to look over its intricate frame of golds and silvers; the splash of red from delicately carved roses. The family inside that frame was happy; invincibly so but you could remember the shaking shoulders of a broken man and no doubt the questions that clung to him like stale smoke. You weren’t in the mood to see someone else sharing in your grief or have the patience to keep up a charade.

With one final huff you turned back to your computer. Your decision was final.

Six long months had passed since that day. Every single day that filled up each of them felt like an eternity. You’d always heard that grief got easier with time. Whoever said that must have not known what they were talking about. The only thing you’d noticed was the pain came in waves and usually on the back of memories.

Sure, you were no longer walking around like a zombie or having random breakdowns during inappropriate times when you painfully remembered Li was gone. A part of you preferred that. It was better than walking, minding your own business, and a random smell of a plant along walkways or a freaking certain laundry detergent sent your brain down memory lane. Just yesterday you’d put on a shirt Li had picked out for you to wear on a blind date. The date had gone to shit, but Li had met you at the bar an hour later. The two of you got so drunk you’d switched clothes for reasons you’ll never understand, and ended back at her place to a movie marathon. She’d met Jungkook a week after that.

That memory alone came on sharp. Your grief swallowed you whole and left you paralyzed on the floor of your apartment. So, no. Time didn’t make grieving easier. It just allowed it to sucker punch you like a sledgehammer at random moments throughout the day. Just to remind you of what you lost.

You were making your way through the thick rows of cubicles towards your old joined office in the back. Your face buried in your phone and the latest data files IT could pull up on the new case you were working tucked under your arm. You were half way past Jhuen’s desk when the boss man’s booming voice yelled, “Y/L/N! My office! Now!”

You peaked over your phone. A timid thing just to gage whether you could get away with pretending you were deaf. By the deadly seriousness in his eyes and the hard set of his lips, you were going to say that’d be a no.

You let out a groan anyways and changed course to his office. “Looks like someone is in trouble,” Dave sang as you walked past.

“Looks like somebody doesn’t remember how to mind his own business,” you sang back, not trying to hide the sharp dislike for the man with every high note.

Nobody liked Dave. You especially didn’t like Dave for the fact he was a parasite - riding in behind someone’s failure to boot lick himself past their shadow. It was silent knowledge in the building that he, and a few others, were not to be considered friends. Or maybe you just didn’t like anyone anymore. You were known to be prickly at best when Li was still alive. The only reason you were remotely friendly was her doing, but with her gone…

You could feel his eyes burying themselves in the back of your skull. Whatever choice words he had in reply stayed with him as you quickly made your way towards the Director’s office. As soon as you crossed through the threshold, he motioned for you to shut the door behind you.

“While I appreciate you helping me remember how to sound out my last name, sir I’d like a simple call to my desk next time. If I can put that in as a request for next time.”

You plopped down into the seat that was suspiciously seated perfectly in front of him. His bulldog expression deepened the wrinkles around his eyes to successfully age him way past his years. He most definitely did not find you amusing in the slightest. You maneuvered your files into your lap and sat your phone down on top. If he wanted to have a staring contest with you, you were happy to oblige.

“Cut the wise ass remarks, y/n. I have something here that’s, well, going to be hard for you to swallow. I need to know you are going to be able to handle this.”

“Well, that was ominous as hell,” you grumbled, but there was no denying the sweat that began in your palms.

It took every ounce of control not to wipe them against the legs of your slacks. Your eyes heavily fixed on the man in front of you. He wasn't gruff because of trivial office banter. No, something was weighing him down and your chest felt like it was going to burst.

He didn’t hand it to you as much as he slid it across his desk in your direction. Only the edges of his fingers touched the edges as if whatever inside left him wanting to be far away from its contents. Well…that didn’t bode well. The apparent urge you had to ruffle his feathers, your quote “wise ass remarks,” died down when you noticed there were no markings on the folder. Not a name, post-it note, or inscribed symbol of the agency was on its baby blue front.

It only meant one thing - whatever was in the file was a matter of life and death. Beyond a ‘need to know bases’ and more towards a ‘you better pass your clearance check first’ kind of bases.

You and Li had gotten the same kind of folder a couple days before she’d died.

“Y/n,” your name left his mouth like a warning.

Your director's eyes, however, were filled with a sadness that left him uncertain. When dealing with those stuck in a continuous pattern of grief, you never knew if they were on the anger portion of that wheel. Lately, you seem to only be stuck on that section 24/7.

You didn’t hear him. Your arm extended out in blinding speed, unthinking, to snatch the folder off of his desk. The folders you’d tucked into your lap are now discarded on the floor. You knew he was talking; he must be. None of his words could make it past the sound of the blood rushing in your ears or the hammering of your heart against your chest. Your eyes were scanning the words and your brain was trying to make sense of them and the photos that accompanied them.

The only clear picture it gave sat wrong and dirty like rotted fruit in an otherwise beautiful painting. It allowed one answer to all the questions that were rising in your throat, but you refused to voice them. You weren’t aware your eyes had filled with tears until you looked back up into your director’s weathered face, and hated the amount of pity it reflected back at you.

“Li wasn’t a traitor.” Your voice was deep in shock, but the anger bubbled along its surface.

“Y/N-“

“No! Whatever - whoever - made this fucking file is wrong. She couldn’t- she...she wasn’t like that.”

God, you would’ve pitied yourself too if you knew what you looked like. The way you struggled to defend a damn woman who betrayed not only you, but her country.

“You know our intel is always solid. I couldn’t believe this either, y/n, so I made sure we triple checked everything before I gave this to you. I wanted to be sure.”

You felt sick.

“There’s still a chance that someone could just be out there to ruin whatever is left of her.”

It was a weak argument and you both knew it. Damn it, you just couldn’t allow yourself to believe any of it. So many why’s were flying around your head - all these questions to ask a dead woman who could never answer.

“Possibly. Either way you spin this it unfortunately leaves us with the fact that whatever she stole for us to give to them, it’s missing. Because it’s missing they are now going to target Jungkook and the kids to get to it.”

“How do we know it wasn’t him?”

“It wasn’t who? The husband?” He looked at you like you’d started barking.

“It’s possible. We don’t know anything about him.”

“He’s an artist -“

“That’s like the number one most suspicious job you could ever have,” you pointed out.

He let out a sigh as he leaned back into his chair. His hands moving to rest on his stomach while he gave you a once over.

“Look, y/n, I went against my superiors by giving you this information. I figured you were the best one to infiltrate the family and see what you could learn. Whatever Li had on those disks is enough to put her whole family in danger. I know you. I know, whatever you’re feeling right now, that you’ll do the right thing and protect innocent people.”

Damn him. He was right. As much as you hated sitting there thinking about the biggest betrayal you’d ever been a part of, whatever Li’s choices had been, you wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt her kids. The idea that Li would put her family in harm's way like that left the taste of bile sitting heavy in the back of your throat. You felt ready to let go of your breakfast when he placed a white envelope on his desk. It looked wrong sitting in the middle of the sea of dark wood.

“You didn’t go to the Will reading. So the lawyer sent this over a few months back.”

You didn’t want to touch it.

“Why are you giving it to me? You know I don’t want it.”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not you want it, y/n. What’s inside here is going to help you.”

“Help me what, exactly?”

You both knew what he meant. It felt claustrophobic with all the new information that’d been exposed like an old wound to the room. More so, because you still weren’t okay. You still had nightmares of driving in a vehicle with Li’s grizzly in the backseat. Her ghost staring, eyes paper white and mouth open, dripping blood, in your rear view mirror. A sickly reminder you couldn’t save her, but had she ever cared about safety?

If what your director told you was true, Li was a double agent and, worse, she was willing to risk the safety of her family. What could be worth that? Looking down at the white envelope, you knew there was a fifty-fifty of whether you were going to get your answers. But if you took it you were agreeing to whatever plan he’d cooked up.

“You are the closest to the family. Whatever Li left is enough to help you infiltrate the home and find the information we need.”

Your head was already moving rhythmically back and forth before he’d finished.

“No. I’m not doing it.”

“I wasn’t asking,” his gruff voice bellowed. “It still remains to be seen whether or not her husband was in on it, but those kids are innocent. Do you want to be responsible if they die?”

“Don’t you dare put that on me!”

The chair you’d been sitting in crashed to the floor as your legs forced you to stand. Your whole body was vibrating with rage that you struggled to contain. You wanted to launch over his desk and lash out at him. How dare he try and put the kids on you.

“It’s facts, y/n, and you know it! The are or aren’t they is what we are after, but if we don’t do something and find wherever she hid her information, her husband and those kids will be the ones paying for it.”

It made sense. Of course it made sense and he knew it. It didn’t mean that you had to like it. Or that you even needed to agree with him, because it was true. Your feelings didn’t matter when it came to protecting your country and the people who resided in it.

You didn’t bother answering him. Your feet carried you forward towards his desk so you could reach out and snatch the envelope off of his desk. He wasn’t going to get a verbal agreement from you, because you were undecided. Maybe whatever was inside could help you make the choice that needed to be made.

“Notify me if you set one foot inside that house,” he called behind you.

You didn’t respond or show any sign of acknowledgment. Your legs were bolting you to the nearest exit and what little willpower you had left was begging you not to drop the envelope and run for the hills.

—————————

This probably looked as weird as you felt and glancing down at your watch informed you that you’d been out here - like a weirdo - nearing three hours. Cars passed by and neighbors had gone in and out for groceries or mail and no one seemed to notice your presence. Their lack of awareness was truly amazing and alarming.

12:08

That’s what you read. The last light in the house - his bedroom - had turned off an hour ago. Everyone was asleep. There wasn’t going to be a better time to do this than now. So why couldn’t you take your grip off the steering wheel?

After you’d left the bureau you’d gone to a park. You found a bench shaded by a tree and called it home for the next couple hours. Li’s envelope beside you, unopened. A part of you nagged endlessly about ripping it open and finding out what was inside. The major part of you wanted nothing to do with it. If you could’ve dipped it in battery acid and called it a day, you would’ve been happy. You’d sat there for hours until the only thing you could think of was bugging the house. If her husband had been in on whatever she was doing, that seemed the most plausible thing to do. When you got to the house, however, you couldn’t imagine taking a single step inside. But you wanted answers and this seemed the most logical option since you couldn’t get answers from the dead.

With each exhale of breath, you slowly began to pry your fingers off of the wheel. When the last finger came off you reached over to the passengers side to grab the torn envelope. Your hands quickly stuffing it in the pocket of your sweatshirt as you exited the car. You made sure to grab your small duffle with the cameras and tools inside before slamming the door shut.

If a neighbor cared to look out their window they would’ve noticed a suspicious looking figure in a dark sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over their head. Said suspicious person carrying a backpack, gloves on their hands, and glancing left and right like they were waiting for someone to jump out of a bush screaming, “Caught ya!”

It was you. You were the person and you had terrible anxiety at the idea you were indeed about to get caught. You tried your best to push the thought away as you made quick work across the street and towards the back of the house. It was a typical two-story with a fence to hold in what little of a backyard they had. Li complained constantly she wanted a rural home with a real backyard, but Jungkook liked city life.

A rural home would’ve been harder to enter. Neighbors in areas meant for familial life were the nosiest bunch; neighborhood watch and all. City-style homes that were closed in on each other for some reason held a strong no-snooping policy.

With a final glance over your shoulder you braced your hands at the top of the fence and gave off a small push from the ground. Your arms instantly pulled up your weight to help guide a leg over the top of the wooden boards, so the rest of your body could tumble over to the other side. It wasn’t your most graceful entrance, but it was still quiet.

You’d previously looked into whether or not they ever bought any type of home security. You didn’t see any in the files and none previously purchased in their financial records. You silently wrote down, “Buy security,” in your mental bank as you came up to their back door. Your hands fishing your lock pick pouch from your pocket.

You knelt down in front of the lock, a small flashlight held in between your lips, as your finger set to work. You weren’t the best at lockpicking. When you’d first started training at the bureau, small things like lockpicking and chemistry weren’t your things. You’d passed them, but barely. Li was known to be the brains and you, well, you always did have a run and gun western-style approach to things. So yeah, a part of you would have preferred kicking in the door than picking it, but you stayed on your knees. Your hands working deftly in the night and a soft chorus of swear words left your lips whenever you missed the lock. When the lock finally clicked you could stop yourself from a victory, “Ah ha!” That’s right. No stupid lock was going to keep you from finishing this.

You placed the tools back inside their pouch and slid it into your pocket. The small flashlight was back in your left hand while the other was pushing open the door. All the air you’d had in your lungs suddenly felt trapped there as you took your first step inside the house. An unspoken feeling that you shouldn’t be here weighed heavily on your shoulders as your eyes took a look around.

The house itself told a story across its walls of a place where love resided. A family that was happy once was painted all over in their wedding photos to pictures of Li holding their babies straight from the womb. That one in particular hurt the worst. You never been in a relationship that lasted longer than six months to ever consider having kids. It was hard for you to imagine what it felt like to hold someone you fell in love with long before you physically met them. The level of exhaustion and overwhelming joy that brought tears to the eyes of parents meeting them for the first time. Seeing Li like that with Jungkook’s body protectively leaning over them both, a hand on both of them and looking at them with love - it hurt. It hurt more than you would’ve liked.

Inside a home that held the laughter and love of a growing family now felt suspended in grief. You were positive the house never looked this messy before, but now clothes were everywhere. A large hill of laundry sat like a crater in the middle of the sofa. Plates of last nights dinner left where they’d been placed with toys scattered like a minefield across the floor. It was a good thing you brought your flashlight because-

“Fuuuuuuuuuuc-“

Ah yes, of course you were so focused on the valley of toys that your knee ran into the edge of a dining room table. Classic. For a heartbeat you stayed as motionless as you could in the dark. The light of the flashlight dimmed as you shoved it into the leg of your pants. When you were positive no one was up you moved to take a step forward. Your flashlight came up to late before you soccer ball kicked what looked like a Koala with numbers across the living room.

The room was suddenly lit up like a disco ball. Children’s music and flashing lights of color danced across the darkness of the room. This time, your noise making was greeted by the sound of feet hitting the floor upstairs. You knew you had only a few seconds to retreat; to bolt your ass back out the door and make a run for it. If you did that though, the next time you came back, you wouldn’t have to worry about buying them a security system. He would have one here waiting for you.

With your decision halfway made you quickly turned off your flashlight. Your hands scrambled to remove the gloves off of your hands. It proved to be harder than expected because the damn things seemed to be constricted around each individual digit. You’d just got the last glove off, your hands shoving everything inside the sweater when you saw his legs and a bat come flying down the stairs. He was on the stoop before the last few steps when you shoved the hood off of your head and prayed you didn’t look as suspicious as you felt.

By the way he looked at you when he flicked the light on, you were doing a piss poor job. Using the bat he pointed it in your direction as he spoke, “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

God, lord what in the fuck were you doing here?

His voice dripped heavily with sleep; it’s burr rich and throaty matching perfect with the rest of him. His bed head left patches of hair sticking in comical fashion in every direction. Unfortunately, that was the only comical thing about him.

Why had Li never mentioned her husband was so damn…hot? This was sinful. You were sinning with every second your eyes stayed on his bare chest or the way his pajama pants sat low on his hips making your brain have to wonder the painful question of, ‘is he wearing underwear or isn’t he?’

His left arm was covered in a sleeve of art. Every single piece was different from the last, but beautifully woven into the other. It was enough to accentuate the muscles there and offered you a very good reason to keep your eyes away from his chest…and the dips of his hip bones that peaked out from the top of his pajamas. His face should’ve been the best option, but it wasn’t. Jungkook was handsome. Devastatingly so. His features still held onto the boyish softness of his youth, but had chiseled away to expose the hardline of his jaw. His Cupid bow lips pouty and soft, his brow furrowed in apprehension that gave off a glint of a piercing on his left eyebrow. His big doe eyes open in challenge-

“I said, what - the fuck- are you - doing in my house?”

Jungkook kept the bat trained on you as he took the final steps down the stairs. He was waking up with every second you stood there being wicked and full of sin. You only had one option left and you moved to do it quickly.

Your hand dug quickly into the back pocket of your jeans and fished out Li’s letter. You moved to show it to him, hand open in surrender, before replying, “I have a key.”

I have a key?! Were you mental?

You closed your eyes in an attempt to pretend you hadn’t just said that. When you opened them, Jungkook was looking at you like how you felt: stupid.

“You have a key? To my house?”

“Li gave it to me. I’m - I’m y/n.” At either the mention of Li or your name, Jungkook began to soften. The hard set of his shoulders dropped, along with the bat, and the determination that glinted in his eyes was soon replaced by sadness. You liked it better when he wanted to hit you with the bat. “She asked me to check in on you guys-“

“And you figured in the cover of darkness was a good time to do that? You figured almost seven months after her death and missing birthdays - holidays - that this is the best time to finally show up?”

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe you. Jungkook probably didn’t. He had a point. You could’ve done what was left in the will in her request for you to be a godmother. Hell, you could’ve started the minute she’d asked you when she was dying.

Your mouth opened to reply. Whether it was a good or bad option you weren’t sure. Fortunately, you never got to voice it. A shrill cry of a baby cut through the silence and you watched as Jungkook became a whole other person. He hoped backwards towards the stairs, his bat now placed at its base, as he pointed at you.

“Stay right there.”

The smart ass told you to tell him to fuck off and leave. The other part of you, the one you knew was going to hell, was so enthralled by watching his body bound up the stairs you knew you’d stay. Yup. You were getting a first class ticket down under for drooling over your dead friend’s husband.

The crying didn’t cease whenever Jungkook got there. It just got louder. Unforgivably loud. Now you wanted to bolt out the door because, good lord, that creature had some pipes on it. You were starting to inch toward the door when the crying grew louder as he brought the baby down the stairs. If you were able to spontaneously combust in that moment you knew that it was possible. You could also see why Li continued to want to give the man babies.

He was holding Jeongsan tightly to him. His arms bounced him up and down to try and soothe him to no avail.

“I have to get him a bottle. Do you want some coffee?”

He brushed past you to head towards the kitchen and you went dumbstruck again. He just woke up. How the hell did he smell so good?

“Sorry, but being caught like a creep in the night makes the idea of coffee seem awkward.”

“Well, that’s too bad for you. I got some questions and, key or not, if you don’t want me calling the cops I suggest you take that offered cup of coffee.”

Damn. He was good. Jungkook wasn’t playing: he meant every word. The determination on his face told you plainly if you wanted to not write a report about this your ass better show up in the kitchen. You considered if writing said lengthy report along with impending desk duty was such a bad thing when you watched him turn and walk into the kitchen. His back fully on display and -

You let out a sigh. Your feet moving on their own accord towards the kitchen.

“I’ll have your offer of coffee only if you promise to put on a shirt.”

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imagineteamfreewill · 3 years ago

Text

Mr. Winchester

Title: Mr. Winchester

Pairing: Author!Sam Winchester x Junior Editor!Reader

Word Count: 5,424

Warnings: Sam’s a jerk (at first)

Square Filled: Free Space

Summary: Y/N is a junior editor working at a publishing company under Castiel Novak. One of their top clients, Sam Winchester, is a difficult author whose life Cas thinks could do with a little bit of Y/N’s touch.

A/N: Surprise! Two fics in one day! This is a submission for the 2020-2021 SPN AU Bingo (@spnaubingo). Feedback makes the world go round, so I hope you enjoy this fic. Let me know what you think when you finish reading!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Apartment 59 didn't look much different than the others. The door was a little more worn along the edges and the handle hadn't been updated to the silver one that seemed to be the standard, but otherwise it was the same as every other unit in the building. There was absolutely nothing unique about it; no one would ever know who lived there and why they were so special. Then again, neither did you. All you'd been told was one of Mr. Novak's top clients hadn't been responding to any of his requests for the first draft of their latest book, and that in this man's case, it meant that someone needed to go check on him.

You rang the doorbell again before glancing at the paper in your hand to make sure the apartment was correct. It was, and you sighed.

Clean the house, water his plants but get new ones if they're dead, go grocery shopping, collect the first draft, and take his clothes for dry cleaning. How hard could it be?

Rolling your eyes, you stuffed the paper in your bag and looked around for the fake plant that was supposed to contain the extra key for the client's apartment. It was a little ways down the hall, so you hiked your bag up on your shoulder again and went over to dig it out. The key wasn't hard to find and you grinned to yourself as you let yourself in.

"Hello?" you called. "Anybody home?"

There was no answer.

"This is Y/N from Holst Publishing, I'm here to collect your first draft!"

There was still no answer and you stepped further into the apartment, letting the door fall shut behind you as you glanced around.

It was clear why Mr. Novak had asked you to come--the apartment was a disaster area, or at least the living room was. Takeout containers and dishes were scattered around the room, and there was a significant amount of laundry piled up on the couch and the floor next to it. There were two plants by the window, just like Mr. Novak said, but even you could tell that they were goners. The leaves weren't even green anymore.

Wrinkling your nose, you cleared a spot on the small table against the wall and set down your bag.

"This guy's a hot mess," you mumbled, scooping up a mostly empty waste basket as you walked through the room. It filled up quickly, and you pulled out the bag, tying it up before going to look for a new one.

There were four doors down the hall, and you figured that at least one had to be a closet. The first three proved to be a bedroom, a bathroom, and an office. Reaching for the fourth door, you let out a yelp when it was opened for you.

A tall man stood on the other side, naked sans a pair of black Saxx. You quickly averted your eyes, staring up at the ceiling as your cheeks grew hot with embarrassment.

"What the hell?" the man asked, his voice low and thick with gravel. "Who are you and what are you doing in my apartment?"

"My name is Y/N, I'm with Holst Publishing," you squeaked. "Didn't Mr. Novak call and tell you I was coming?"

The man grunted. "Of course he didn't. Why were you trying to get into my room?"

You swallowed thickly, still staring up at the ceiling as you fidgeted in place. "Um, I was hoping that maybe it was a closet. I needed another trash bag."

"Try the kitchen next time." The man pushed past you and headed in that direction, leaving you to follow him in humiliated silence. He opened the cabinet beneath the sink and pulled out a box of trash bags, then tossed it to you. You caught it after fumbling for a second.

"Thanks," you said, and he turned his back on you to press a few buttons on an expensive-looking coffee maker.

No wonder none of the other junior editors wanted this job, you thought as you went back to picking up trash from around the room. This guy's a jerk, too.

"So you do what for Cas? Clean?"

You looked up, startled. "Who, me?"

The man rolled his eyes and opened the fridge. "No, I was talking to my dog."

Even though sarcasm dripped from his words, the questions slipped from your mouth before you could think twice. "You have a dog?"

"Sadie!" he shouted, and you flinched. He whistled sharply, ignoring you, and a few moments later, a large retriever trotted into the living room to join him in the kitchen. She didn't give you a second glance either. She was too focused on her owner and she practically vibrated with excitement as he pulled out a container of something in the fridge and set it on the floor for her. She attacked it with gusto, lapping up the contents as her tail wagged a mile a minute. He scratched the top of her head before going over to another cabinet and pulling out a mug.

"You're not supposed to feed dogs takeout, you know," you told him, and you winced when the man fixed a scathing glare on you.

Slowly, he set the mug down on the counter. He held your gaze as he spoke, "I make all of Sadie's food from scratch. Just because I eat takeout doesn't mean my dog does."

"Right," you muttered, looking away. You fidgeted with the edge of the trash bag for a second before going back to cleaning up the room.

"You never answered my question."

Looking up again, you met the man's eyes and hoped desperately that you could keep yourself from staring at his still mostly-naked body. He'd moved to stand between the couch and the coffee table, leaving you with no way of getting around him to keep cleaning or to leave. You were trapped.

"I'm a junior editor," you mumbled. "I work under Mr. Novak, but I worked for one of his siblings in Los Angeles before I moved here."

The man let out a disinterested noise before reaching out and snatching the trash bag from your hand before you could protest. "Right. Well, you can leave and tell Cas that I don't need a wellness check or whatever he told you this was. I'm fine and he'll get his draft when it's done, just like I told him the last time we talked, the time before that, and the time before that."

You crossed your arms over your chest and watched as he tossed the half-full bag of trash next to the full bag you'd placed by the door. Sadie had finished eating whatever he'd given her and was now investigating your bag on the edge of the table, her tail wagging happily.

"You don't have to be so rude, you know. I'm just doing my job. Not all of us can lay around in a pigsty in our underwear, pretending that we're working when we're really not," you snapped.

The words came out before you could stop them and embarrassed tears filled your eyes when the man hounded on you with one eyebrow raised and a tone sharper than any sword.

"What did you say to me?"

You shook your head, swallowing hard. "I'm— I’m so sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'll let Mr. Novak know you're almost done with the draft."

"I don't just sit around all day," the man said, his dark eyes focused on you. It hadn't dawned on you until just this moment how tall and imposing this man was, and you swallowed nervously as he stepped closer. "You and all the other junior editors Cas sends come in here and act like you're so much better than me because you have your little office jobs, but I'm the one with a successful career.” He jabbed a finger at the floor, then at you. “I'm the one who owns this apartment, and I'm the one keeping you employed."

"Maybe," you said. An ounce of courage had wiggled its way into your system and you clung to it desperately. Marching over to the door, you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. "But at least I'm nice, and know when my words have done their damage."

You opened the door and left without waiting to hear his response. As soon as you got back to Holst, you were telling Mr. Novak not to send you to any of his clients' houses ever again. One disastrous, humiliating morning was more than enough.

_______________

"Where have you been?" Charlie hissed as you slowly sank into your seat. "You've been gone for hours!"

You dumped your bag on the floor next to your desk and exhaled slowly, shaking your head. She took in the look on your face, then winced.

"Didn't you say that Novak was sending you out on some kind of wellness check or something?" she asked, and you nodded. "It was Sam Winchester, wasn't it?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. I forgot to write down the name, but—"

"Super tall, shaggy hair, and an attitude bigger than the Empire State?" You nodded again and Charlie gave you a pitying look. "Oh, Y/N. He's the worst. You're lucky he didn't throw anything at you." She paused. "He didn't throw anything at you, did he?"

You shook your head, feeling another wave of tears coming on. It wasn't enough that you'd wasted half a tank of gas just driving around and crying before you came back to the office, apparently.

"No," you told her. "But I said something I shouldn't and he wasn't happy. I'm pretty sure today's gonna be my last day."

"Y/N, it's not gonna be your last day. Mr. Novak is—"

"Mr. Novak would like to see Y/N in his office."

You and Charlie both jumped, and you quickly turned your chair to face the entrance to your cubicle. Mr. Novak himself was standing there, waiting for you. Swallowing thickly, you glanced at your friend and then got to your feet.

"Of course," you replied, trying to look and sound as professional as possible, but your voice was tight with tears and you were sure that it showed on your face.

Mr. Novak's expression was unreadable, and after a brief glance at Charlie, he turned and headed back towards his spacious corner office. You followed a few feet behind, feeling more and more ashamed as each of your co-workers stood from their seat or stopped in their tracks to watch you. The only thing you could think of was how it felt for prisoners when they walked to the scene their death penalty, only to have a crowd waiting to watch their life end. Did it feel like this?

"Please, close the door behind you and have a seat," Mr. Novak said. He moved ahead to the counter lining one wall of his office. "Do you want anything to drink? Coffee, water, tea?"

You shook your head and cleared your throat as you slowly sank into the chair across his desk. It seemed like forever until he was finally sitting across from you and setting a steaming mug of coffee on a coaster beside his laptop.

“How was your visit with Mr. Winchester, Y/N?” he asked.

Swallowing thickly, you steadied yourself before slowly replying, “I wasn’t able to complete everything on the list you gave me. I’m sorry, Mr. Novak.”

He raised an eyebrow at you but didn’t say anymore. Silently, Mr. Novak turned to his computer and typed in his password, then clicked a few times before he turned it to face you. His email was pulled up, and after glancing at him for his approval, you read the email he’d pulled up on the screen.

Cas, it began. Stop sending your new employees to check up on me. The last girl you sent was rude, and Sadie’s been on edge ever since she shouted and left. She should be fired for acting like she did, and if you keep doing things like this, you’re never going to get the first draft.

“I can explain—”

Mr. Novak held up his hand and you let yourself fall silent. “Y/N… I’m sure whatever happened, Sam deserved it, but next time, please at least text me so I know what’s going on before I get emails like this.”

“What?” you asked, honestly shocked that you weren’t being fired on the spot.

He’s not angry?

“I don’t care if you yell at Sam. Quite frankly, he probably needs more people to yell at him. What upsets me is the fact that you didn’t text me to let me know what happened and then you disappeared for several hours before you came back to the office. That’s not exactly professional.”

You peered at him, unsure of what you were supposed to do with the new information he’d just given. You were… allowed to yell at one of the company’s top clients?

“I’m— I’m sorry, Mr. Novak, but… you’re not angry that I yelled at Mr. Winchester?”

A rare smile grew on your boss’ face, leaving you even more bewildered as he picked up his mug to take a sip. He lingered with the mug to his lips and you stared at him, then at the email.

“No. In fact, I’d like to encourage more of it. Clearly, he responds to you. This is the first time I’ve heard from him in weeks, and you’re the third staff member I’ve sent. Starting tomorrow, you’re Sam Winchester’s personal assistant. Anything he needs, you’re in charge of. You need to be at his apartment at eight sharp tomorrow morning, and if he tries to kick you out, call me immediately and put it on speaker,” Mr. Novak told you. He reached down and opened a drawer in his desk, then pulled out a white envelope and slid it across to you. “Here’s a key to his apartment. Don’t lose it.”

You were still shell-shocked as you nodded and took the envelope, holding it with both hands.

“You’re free to go back to your desk now. Thank you for your time today, Y/N,” Mr. Novak said, and you dumbly nodded again. You were halfway to the door when he called your name and you turned to face him. “Any writing he gets done, you’re the first read-through. If you think it’s trash, it probably is. I don’t want anything coming to my desk unless it’s got your stamp of approval. I trust you.”

That was enough to make your heart rate spike, and you nodded for the third time before hurrying to the bathroom and locking yourself in the last stall.

This can’t be real, you thought as you sat down on the toilet seat and clutched the envelope with both hands. I’m being punked. Mr. Novak really wouldn’t assign me to be Sam Winchester’s personal assistant, would he? Can he even do that? I’m a junior editor! I should be reading manuscripts, not picking up dry cleaning and watching his dog! Although, he did say that I could read through the chapters before they get sent to—

“Y/N? Are you in here?” The bathroom door slammed shut and you peeked down underneath the stall door to ensure that the voice you’d heard was really Charlie’s. Sure enough, her bright blue Crocs were like beacons from across the drab bathroom floor.

“I’m here,” you answered after a second, and after a few more, you stood and opened the door, stepping out.

“You ran in here pretty fast,” Charlie said. She gave you a once over, looking for signs of distress. “Everything okay?”

Hesitating, you nodded and frowned. “Yes? I’m not sure. I’m— Mr. Novak gave me a new assignment.”

Charlie’s eyebrows shot up and she stepped further into the bathroom. “A new assignment? But what about what happened with Sam Winchester? Did he say anything?”

“That’s just it! He assigned me to Sam Winchester! He made his personal assistant, Charlie! What the heck am I supposed to do now?”

“He what?”

You shook your head, completely at a loss. “I don’t know, Charlie! He wasn’t even mad that I yelled at him!”

“Wait, you yelled at Sam Winchester?” Charlie squeaked.

The only response you could give her was a helpless shrug and a stammered justification. You couldn’t believe you’d done it either, but even more so, you couldn’t believe your boss’ response to the whole incident.

“Hey,” Charlie soothed, placing her hand on your arm. You met her eyes and the reassurance in them was a small comfort. “It’ll be okay. Maybe after a while he’s not as awful as he is the first time you meet him.”

You let out a soft laugh and gave her a half-assed smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“You wanna go get something to eat? Greasy pizza from the food truck?”

“That sounds like heaven. I should take this back to my desk first, though,” you said. You held up the white envelope Mr. Novak had given you and shook it for good measure. “It’s the key to his apartment. If I lose this, I’m even more screwed.”

Charlie gave you a sympathetic smile and squeezed your arm, then dropped it back to her side. “I’ll meet you outside, ‘kay?”

You nodded, and the two of you left the bathroom together before heading your opposite ways.

The next morning when you knocked on Mr. Winchester’s door, there was no response. Sighing, you unlocked it and stepped inside. The apartment was cleaner than the day before and the dead plants were gone, and you were secretly thankful that you wouldn’t spend the first part of your morning cleaning up someone else’s trash.

Sadie lifted her head from her spot on a dog bed near the window, and you froze only a few steps into the apartment as she bared her teeth and her hackles raised in warning. She let out a sharp bark and scrambled to her feet. Someone, presumably Sam, moved around in another room and something fell to the floor, but the golden retriever quickly advanced toward you, unphased.

“Hi Sadie girl,” you cooed. “It’s okay, I’m not here to yell at you! I just need to see your owner! It’s okay, it’s okay, pretty girl.”

The dog ignored your pitiful attempts to soothe her and growled. Frantic, you dug your phone out of your pocket and quickly dialed Mr. Novak. He answered on the first ring.

“Good morning, Y/N. Is there a problem already?” he asked.

“The dog! How do I get Sadie to stop barking at me?” You backed up towards the door as Sadie got even closer. She crouched low to the ground with her teeth bared and your hand was trembling as you glanced at the dark hallway off to your left. Where was Sam?

“I see. Is Sam there?”

“I don’t know, maybe! I can’t get past Sadie to go find out!”

Mr. Novak replied, but Sadie’s barking and the sound of Sam’s angry footsteps coming down the hall drowned him out. A sharp whistle pierced your eyes and then suddenly, Sadie was retreating to her owner’s side.

Sam was dressed this time, complete with a look that could kill. He glared at you from the hallway and gestured with one hand. Sadie obediently sat down beside him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he sharply asked. “I thought I told Cas to fire you.”

“About that,” you answered, swallowing thickly as you pulled the phone from your ear and put the call on speaker. “Mr. Novak?”

The line was silent for a second and you glanced up at Sam, terrified that he’d start to yell before your boss spoke up. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Mr. Novak began talking. You held the phone in a death grip the entire time.

“So you’re supposed to do what? Pick up after me, do my laundry, and hope desperately that I let you read my writing?” Sam asked after you’d ended the call and slipped your phone back in your pocket.

Shrugging slightly, you closed the front door behind you and gripped the strap of your work bag. “I wasn’t really expecting I’d become a personal assistant when I was hired as a junior editor. I figured there’d be more…”

“Editing?” he deadpanned.

You nodded.

“Sounds like you should be complaining to Cas about that, not me.” Sam turned to look at his kitchen, his lips pressed together. He stayed silent for a long few moments before finally turning his attention to the dog at his feet.

“You hungry, Sades?” Her tail started wagging immediately and Sam chuckled. “Free!”

Like a shot, Sadie sprinted across the apartment and into the kitchen. Her owner followed her at a much more relaxed pace, and a smile spread across his face as he pulled a container of food out of the fridge and set it at his feet for her. She gobbled it up eagerly while he watched on.

“Is there anything you need me to do?” you finally asked, feeling like you were intruding upon an intimate moment, even though it was just a man feeding his dog. Billions of other people did the same thing every day.

Get a grip, Y/N, you chastised yourself. Grow a pair and act like an adult. This is your job and if you ever want to become an editor, you need to get through this.

You cleared your throat, then waited until Sam looked over at you. “What do you want me to do for you today, Mr. Winchester?” you asked, lifting your chin slightly.

He stared at you. “You’re not gonna go back and complain to Cas about not being able to edit? You’re serious about being my assistant?”

“As a heart attack,” you replied.

“If you’re really going to go through with this,” Sam said as he grabbed the empty pot from his coffee maker, “then you can start by going through all of that.” He gestured with the pot towards the darkest corner of the living room, where two large bins overflowing with envelopes of all shapes, colors, and sizes had been haphazardly stacked on top of one another.

Nodding, you set your bag down on the same table as the day before, then situated yourself on the floor beside the bins. The envelopes were fanmail of all kinds and you began to pull them from the bin on top, read them, and sort them.

He gets some strange stuff from fans, you thought as you refolded the second letter and placed it off to the side, making sure to keep the frizzy lock of hair carefully tucked inside. No wonder he doesn’t do this himself.

By the time you’d finished the first bin of letters, several hours had passed. Sadie had curled up to sleep beside you and Sam had disappeared. You stood and stretched. Your stomach had started to rumble while you were opening the last few pieces of mail, so you headed down the hall to see if your new boss wanted anything for lunch. At least if you could pick up his food while you were out getting yours, there would be one less thing for him to get snippy over.

Sam was sitting at the desk that faced the office window. Judging by the empty glass mug and plate sitting beside him, he’d been there for quite awhile, too. At some point, he’d changed out of his pajamas and into jeans and a flannel, and he looked more like someone you’d see cutting down Christmas trees in a tiny Hallmark town rather than a bestselling author.

Not that I’m complaining about how broad his shoulders look from behind.

“Mr. Winchester?”

Slowly, he turned his chair and looked up from the tablet he’d been writing on, his fingers still half-poised over the detached keyboard. He blinked a few times, as if he was trying to focus on something other than the screen for the first time since sitting down.

“Do you want something for lunch? I was going to get something from the little shop down the street—”

“You can call me Sam, you know,” he interrupted, and you froze with your mouth hanging open. “What?”

“Nothing,” you quickly replied. You shook your head and forced a weak smile. “Nothing. Do you want lunch?”

Sam shook his head, squinting at you. “No. Why are you so shocked that I want you to call me by my name? I call you by your name, so you should call me by mine.”

“You haven’t actually… called me anything.”

“I haven’t?” he asked. You shook your head again. Sam hummed thoughtfully, and you were just about to turn and leave when he got to his feet and said, “I’ll come with you to the shop. I could use a break.”

Surprised, you replied, “Really? You want to come with me?”

He laughed and nodded, then grabbed his phone from the charger and slipped it into his pocket. You stared at him until he gestured towards the door behind you. Quickly, you turned on your heel and headed back into the living room. Sadie came bounding over when Sam let out a sharp whistle, and you flinched at the noise.

“Sorry,” he said, and for a second you thought you should call Mr. Novak and ask if you sounded sick to him, because Sam’s sudden change in attitude towards you was making your head spin.

Sam clipped a leash onto Sadie’s matching collar and then pocketed his keys. You felt his eyes on you as you sat on the edge of the couch to slip your shoes back on, and when you stood, he gave you a small smile.

“Ready?”

You nodded.

“Do you mind walking to the park with me so Sadie can run around? There’s an area where I can let her off leash and she’s been cooped up since yesterday afternoon…” Sam trailed off as the dog began to wiggle on her leash. He looked down at her and his smile turned fond. “Yes, I know, you want to go outside right away. One second, Sadie.”

“That’s fine,” you told him, still a bit on edge over his strange behavior. You grabbed your bag and checked the charge on your phone before nodding again. “Let’s go.”

After taking the elevator down to the lobby, you walked down the street to the shop you’d seen on your way out of Sam’s apartment yesterday. Neither of you spoke, and Sadie pulled the whole way, but you didn’t mind the silence or the brisk pace. The shop workers were happy to see Sam and you watched with muted surprise at how kind he was being to everyone he came across.

Maybe he was just mean to me because he hadn’t had his coffee yet?

As you, Sam, and Sadie walked to the park even further down the street, you ate your food and tried to come up with as many reasons as possible for Sam’s behavior the first two times you interacted. Finally, you couldn’t take the mystery any longer.

“You know,” you said, after finishing your sandwich and balling up the paper wrapper, “for a while, I thought you were this… cranky, reclusive writer, but you’re actually a really nice guy.”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about?” Sam replied.

You glanced at him, frowning slightly. “You were really rude to me earlier today, and yesterday too! Don’t act so surprised.”

“You broke into my apartment, freaked out my dog, and then insulted me,” he scoffed. “Why would I be nice to you after all that?”

Looking forward again, you fidgeted with the wrapper and watched Sadie as she stopped to sniff an overflowing trash can. Sam kept walking.

“Oh. I really am sorry about that,” you finally said. “I just… figured that you would’ve known I was coming. I guess I should’ve guessed that you didn’t, since Mr. Novak said that he hadn’t been able to get ahold of you.”

Sam didn’t answer right away, and you were nearing the park. Spotting a trash can that didn’t look too full, you stepped off the path to throw away your wrapper, and when you turned back around, he and Sadie were already inside the fenced-in dog park a few yards away. You watched for a moment as he reached down to pet her, then unclipped the leash so she could run off and play with the other dogs. He turned and met your gaze, raised an eyebrow, and then pointed towards the gate off to his right.

Your face felt warm—and not from the sun—as you nodded and made your way over to the gate. He watched you the whole time. You’d put your foot in your mouth with the comment about his earlier behavior, and now you were going to have to figure out how to fix things.

Everything was just starting to look up, too, you thought as you opened up the gate and stuck your leg out to keep someone’s dog from escaping. They gave you a grateful smile, which you returned before making your way over to where Sam was standing in the corner of the park.

“I should apologize for how I acted, too,” he said once you were closer. “I was rude to you even after you’d explained who you were and why you were in my apartment. It’s not the first time Cas has sent someone to check on me, so it’s not like someone from the company showing up at my place was completely unexpected. I should’ve figured he’d resort to it eventually, considering I was ignoring his emails, texts, and calls.”

Eyes on Sadie, you smiled a little. “He’s a persistent man. I’m excited to work with him. I mean, eventually,” you added. “I’ll have to work my way up to that.”

“You want to edit?” Sam asked, and you nodded. “When we get back to the apartment, I’ve got a chapter for you to look over. Cas said that you get the first read-through, right?”

You nodded again and looked over at him. “Is that your way of asking for a truce?”

He smiled a little. “Well, Sadie likes you.”

“And?”

“I don’t think you’re that bad, either,” he replied, grinning a little more.

You laughed, and the two of you spent the rest of the time at the dog park chatting about Sadie, your move to the city, and Mr. Novak. Apparently, he and Sam had gone to college together. Sam had plenty of stories that kept you laughing the whole time at the park and even on the walk back. By the time you reached the apartment, your sides and cheeks ached from laughing and smiling so hard. A part of you could barely remember what it felt like to be upset that you had to be Sam’s personal assistant.

If every day is like this, maybe doing things around Sam’s apartment while I wait for new chapters won’t be that bad, you thought as you plopped yourself down on his couch.

Sadie, her mouth dripping water from the bowl on the kitchen floor, trotted over and hopped up onto the cushion next to you. You smiled and gave her a few short pets before letting her settle down with her head pressed against your thigh.

“Hey, girl,” you murmured. “You comfy?” She looked up at you without lifting her head and you chuckled, then ran your hand over her soft fur again. “Yeah, you’re all tuckered out from running around with your friends.”

“She’ll be full of energy again in a few hours,” Sam said, and you smiled up at him. He held out a stack of paper and you took it, looking over the first page. “That’s the second chapter.”

“Where’s the first?”

“It’s not done yet. I had to go back and change some things after I finished Chapter Two.” You frowned and Sam shrugged. “It’s not a perfect process. It’s almost done, I’ll bring it out when it is. Three is almost done, too.”

Nodding, you pulled your hand away from Sadie and unclipped the binder clip at the top of the pages. You set it aside and grabbed a pen from the nearby side table, then settled in for what promised to be a wonderful read.

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pinkrelish · 3 years ago

Note

hiiii im not sure if u will be comfortable doing this bc this is not the usual fic or writing request u said u'll be able to take - but just curious, do u have specific songs or a playlist that u relate to obito? doesnt have to describe him or have the same vibe as him, but songs that once u hear makes u immediately think of him?

ALSO EXCITED FOR WHATEVER UR GONNA COME UP WITH FOR THE 10TH!!!

oh lordt this is about to sound so unhinged. thank you for sending this & i'm so excited to post tomorrow's story you have no idea!!

I don't have Spotify or anything for playlists, but I do visualize scenes to music to inspire that chest-aching, throat-closing, skin-tingling sensation of wholly requited love overtaking the body when, at last, we have the scene of two people succumbing to the need of physical touch.

↳ Obito x Reader

It's not a coincidence almost all my fics take place during winter. Obito is like the snow, to me. From gentle flakes drifting through the wind, to the icy sting striking your cheeks, to the natural disaster rendering you hopeless. I gravitate to swells of music that invoke that feeling.

The Planets (Mercury) by Gustav Holst

The Planets (Uranus) by Gustav Holst

The Nutcracker (Waltz of the Snowflakes) by Tchaikovsky

The Sunreavers (World of Warcraft)

The Nipplegong by Macha

Citadel on a Satellite by SLIFT

↳ Obito x OCs

Couldn't help but include my OC girlies. These lyrics speak for all of them so truly, it hurts:

Baby I Don't Know Oh Oh by Vulfpeck

Baby, I don’t know What I’m gonna do with you

We get older in slow motion Don't you throw it all away

#obito x reader #obito x oc

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sainadazai · 3 years ago

Text

Short story

Dazai x Port Mafia Reader

Tw: angst, hot women, mentions of death, murder, crimes?

“Oh, come on! Just make your bet, it's not like you really have a choice…” she spoke with a roll of her eyes. If this guy wasn’t being so difficult, she could’ve left this strange place hours ago. A girl dressed head to toe in red and black leather stood in the center of a roulette wheel, waiting for her latest victim to finally choose his number. See, y/n’s ability; All Bets Off, allowed her to bet anything she could think of into reality.

It could have been such a wonderful ability, if only people didn't get so scared of losing, it's not like she wasn’t risking things too. She bet if he could win a game of roulette, she would take a nice peaceful swan dive off of the nearest cliff, and if he lost, he would hand over the file on Dazai and then shoot himself if he ever told a soul about the interaction. It really would be easy if he wasn’t stalling his ass off.

“I-I just don't know what-what-”

“Can it! I know you still think someone is coming to save you, but I really don't want to take anymore fingers.” She glanced down at the bloodied body part in her hand, slowly letting it drip dots of red onto the glass floor of the giant wheel.

“Please! Please don't,” he clasped the injured hand to his chest, and let his messy brown hair fall in his face.

Her left heel stomped into the wood center she stood on, face growing annoyed. A gun holsted on her hip being reached for and lazily aimed at the man, she smirked a bit as his already pained face grew wide in shock and fear.

“This would go so much quicker if I just…” She motioned a shot by lifting the tip of her gun “Bang.” At her motion he flinched harshly, eyes scanning the multicolored numbers that were dispersed all around him.

“Fine, 2, black 2, please!” with pleading eyes the man sunk to his knees.

“Atta boy~” Y/n roused. Then suddenly the giant wheel began to spin, and out of nowhere a white ball, the same height as her, began to roll in the opposite direction. Loud banging of the ball against the shiny wood echoed through what seemed to be an infinite space as the man’s fate was decided.

Then, suddenly the noise all came to a halt, and his briefcase floated up the wheel towards the leather suited girl. A whistle of joy blew from her black painted lips.

“Awe, why thank you, darling. And remember, if you tell anyone…” She placed the tip of her glock to her tongue and shot her head upwards, rolling her eyes to mimic being shot.

The next he saw, he was back in the deserted building she’d blackmailed him into going to. No way to get back home, and afraid of every word his mouth could speak.

While at the same time, a clueless Dazai rolled around at his desk, not even pretending to work as he scribbled new ideas in his suicide book. Well, so his co-workers thought.

However today he wasn’t focused on how to commit suicide, but rather practicing the perfect note. The man never fancied the idea of leaving a note, especially since he was on the quest for a double suicide partner, and if you die with your one true love, who else would you really need to address?

Yet a part of him felt that though the many women he brought back to his apartment, and scared away in the morning were beautiful, he still might never suicide with the woman he truly loves. So if he cant perform that perfect double suicide, he might as well leave her a note.

Thus far it read: If you’ve been delivered this, it’s because I finally achieved my ultimate goal! You might like to know that, yes, even after all these years, suicude suits me the best. I remember that one time where you got so upset that you shot me straight in the stomach with a shotgun, I didn't even flinch. When you asked me why, I told you, “Those of us who fear death, are truly the outsiders here in this industry.”

You are smart, you knew what I meant, but I don't know why I could never say the word to you. I can say it now. Suicide. Suicide. Suicide. Suicide. Suicide. Suicide. Suic

Yes, it hasn't been the easiest writing Dazai’s ever done. He has already scrapped three attempts and despite this being a suicide note, he just cant help but obsess over the fact that he will be gone when she reads it. Dead. He wanted to be dead, tried to die on so many occasions so why does it matter so much that he is dead in this stupid letter?

“Get back to work Dazai, you have a case!” He could hear Kunikida’s voice shout across the room.

Sighing and tossing the book to the ground beside him, he reached to open the case file on top of his stack. Three men and two women, all died from unsuspicious circumstances after entering the old coat factory building, shut down ten years ago for gas leakage.

It didn't seem all that crazy to him, death by car crash, heart attack, suicide, suicide, suicide. How many of them commited suicide? Now that part was strange. He didn’t see any correlation between the suicides, unless, well, something in that building made them commit suicide.

“Ugh, can't you just send Rampo on this one! With his ability it’ll go so much faster.” The man whined, forming his best pout at his colleague.

“No.”

“Fine, but what do you even find so similar about these deaths, most of them are Suicide?” Dazai flung his head over the back of his chair, letting it lose balance and almost tip him backwards, before barely staying upright.

“Well, they were all spotted on their way to this building, and sporting this strange symbol on some part of their body.” He pointed to photos in the file that zoomed in on arms, wrists, necks, ankles. All of which had the same dark imprint on them.

His eyes widened at the familiar mark, one he had on his own body. A mark that he hated as much as he loved, but he never thought he’d see one again. Especially not on victims of...suicide. How couldn’t he have seen this earlier. The obsession with suicide, it was always her favorite game to play with people. She loved watching them choose between a noble death, or a selfish act.

The woman hated suicide, having had to sit and watch her own mother with a gun to her head. Hearing the echoes of an apology before all she could see was blood. So why not test all these terrible people to see if they would be so selfish as to take their own lives, or be brave enough to face her. Die while fighting for life, instead of the most desperate surrender.

He was certain that with her ability, all of this was possible, and that’s how he ended up in a dark alleyway past midnight, staring straight into her striking e/c eyes and secretly admiring her slim fitting choice of attire. She was never one for modesty, preferring to be sensual as a way to seduce people into her ability.

“Dazai.” She affirmed with a small smirk, as he scanned the shiny, reflective material covering her legs in black, along with the deep maroon satin that splayed her chest, not so conservatively. He wished that the choice of clothes even mattered to the situation, but he knew that comfortable or not she could fight him without her ability better than most people in the agency or the port mafia.

Touching her would do nothing but increase his ache for her body once more. Those days were over long ago, but yet he still had dreams of the nights they would catch up after work, pretending as if she hadn’t just come back from torturing people and he hadn't been doing whatever secretive work he refused to tell her. In said dreams they’d talk over a drink and speak in depth and philosophy, until all the meaningful words were gone, replaced with the much more comfortable drunken giggles as he stumbled into her apartment. He knew that was never her real apartment, but he wanted to pretend it was, that she trusted him enough to take him home and show him that intimacy nobody else was willing to.

Yet he also knew in the mornings when he began to remember everything he’d said to her, all of his feelings, the deep dark things, and how she was somehow so understanding, he’d be awful to her. Either leaving without any notice, or threatening her at gunpoint not to speak a word of it.

He was a fun guy, kind, and silly, but he knew she’d remember all those times the facade was dropped and pure venom seeped from his words. She never scared so easily, though. Always ready to meet again the next night and start all over, teasing him about his tough guy exterior and repeating the same process as before.

“Y/n”

“Why are you-”

“Looking for you?” she interrupted, suddenly behind him, with a hand on his shoulder hovering over the spot they both knew was aching to be shown.

He smirked, “Actually I was wondering why you started killing people again, but I suppose I now know it's just because you can't live without my wit and charms.”

Pressure began to build on his shoulder, her ability being activated and the spade on his collar bone aching. She’d placed it there with her lips years ago, in secret, only for it to appear the next day randomly, leaving him bonded to her in a way he couldn’t control.

When he looked around again he was in her ability, she hadn’t decided her gamble yet, though. So all he saw was an empty red room. The feeling of her body behind him was ever present, but he wasn’t scared, if she truly wanted to kill him, that might honestly be his ideal death. It would at the least be in the presence of someone he loved. More so, the only person he ever loved.

“It's been a while hasn’t it? Why lure me out now, y/n/n?” She let her arms link around his waist from behind pressing herself tight against his back.

“It might be because I have some very important mafia business to speak of with you..” she whispered delicately in his ear, making sure the breath sent a shiver through him.

“Oh? They still want me ba-” a hand came to cover his mouth. “Shhh.” then it dropped back to it's hold around his lower body.

“Or it could be just ‘cuz I missed ya..” He smiled at that, now understanding why there was no form of a gamble in this void.

“You wanna dance with me, don't you! Awe how cute, y/n! You’re just like a little girl, wanting to play princess with me,” the man excitedly rambled on. While the woman now in front of him, as he had turned to address her, was planning her bet.

“No. Absolutely not! That's not why we’re dancing.”

“So we are dancing~” he tried to sneak a hand around waist only to be shoved off.

“The bet is this; if you dance with me, all the way through this song without putting on that shitty facade, I’ll give ya a nice kiss and leave you alone…”

He grew impatient in her silence, “and if I don't?”

“Easy!” she smiled “ then you’ll have to kill me!”

With those words he could feel the mark fading from his skin. A piece of her that kept them connected was disappearing and he wanted it back. Dazai didn't like this bet, he didn't agree to it, not just because of the stupid mark, that wasnt a yes. There was no way he could kill her, but her ability would force him to, infiltrate his mind if it had to, just to make true one of her wishes.

“No, I don't want to.”

“Then I suppose you’ll have to dance.”

He didn't though, she knew that. The second he touched her to dance, the bet would be over, the mark though, It’d still be gone. So how could he?

“No longer Human.” he whispered into her ear as his hands finally touched her, holding her body close, head resting on her shoulder as they fell back into the real world, her ability completely deactivating. Still, he began to sway her body side to side, not knowing what look she held on her face, but feeling the way her arms tightened around his neck.

There was no music, and they were in a dark and dimly lit alleyway, but this was the happiest either of them had felt in years.

“You shouldn’t kill people…” he whispered, keeping the mood quiet.

“ It’s not that simple and you know it. I'm not like you.”

“C’mon, you’re way better than me!” He left a kiss on the exposed skin of her neck.

“Osamu..” and he tensed at the name no one ever called him anymore, “you can abandon the Mafia and have them begging for you back. Next time I step out of line, you’ll be finding my body washed up on a shoe somewhere, three gunshots to my chest.”

It was true, she wasn’t in the same position he was all those years ago when he gave up the path of evil. Yet somehow, even after years, he was holding her in his arms again, even though he was sure the last contact they’d ever have was on each other's deathbeds.

So there was hope. He was sure of it. “Give me my mark back.”

“You don't want that…” she side glanced at him, only seeing his hair, curls brushing her cheek. Despite what she said, though, she leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on his lower neck, exposed by the low and unbuttoned collar of his shirt. Then leaned back and stared into his bright eyes, getting lost in them as she unknowingly leaned closer. So close that their lips were touching, and then their noses brushing each other as they pressed further in.

She trapped his top lips between hers and barely pulled away before returning, because she couldn’t let the touch be gone any longer. Neither could he, although they’d both return to different lives in the morning. She knew he was alive. And he knew what he was living for.

....

#bsd dazai #dazai #port mafia #dazai x reader #anime #fanfic #short story #bungou stray dogs kunikida #rompo

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