#i need someone to use the taser on me

[idliketobeatree]

the case of the polish subtitles detectives 1/?

hello dbda folks, you're not gonna believe this.

so, the attic scene, in which we all agreed charles was vaguely flirting with that "it's stupid, but i think i'd miss kissing. do you miss kissing?" line.

wait until you find out what he says in the official netflix polish version, because this is insane

sorry for the last screen my hands were shaking.

do you. do you know how this translates directly.

charles says "it's stupid but... i miss kissing."

just walk this out with me. they've changed the "would" from a transition form of the modal verb "will" and said it in present tense. the most present there is. he's not thinking about being a ghost and not having senses. he says i miss kissing, right now to edwin, looking at him shyly and smiling.

do not even get me started on the profound meaning of the word "brakuje mi [czegoś]", which etymologically could be translated to "i lack [something.]" it's missing something with a slight emphasis on the emptiness that creates itself in you, not the longing. personally i'd say it's more urgent than, for example, "tęsknić" [to miss something in the wistful sense].

but that's not all, no sire, because polish subtitles charles, the bi-king of all come ons who's really trying to score here, adds unashamedly, "and do you?"

(in context: and do you miss kissing right now?)

mic drop. edwin pursing his lips awkwardly looks like he's just turning him down. for now.

anyways! there are more scenes like this and you're so not ready for the confession scene which is going to properly blow your mind, but that's for later, i need to lay down.

[sirxlla]

You Randomly Get Kidnapped but You Can Handle Yourself (Batboys)

(Requested by @nesting-dreams ily sm thank you for all the ideas/prompts xxx)

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

Dick: He was never one to have or tell you what you could and couldn't do. For you, you wanted to work a job like a regular person even though he said he would financially support you. You didn't want to feel like you were mooching off of him.

So as unfortunate as it was you were trying to get in your vehicle after working a really long shift at the hospital while on the phone with Dick, a man came up behind you and they were very swiftly beaten with a metal waterbottle.

Dick was obviously very worried cause of what he heard and he was already patroling the area which meant he very swiftly came to you. You were sat ontop of the man, his arms pinned under your knees as you brutally smacked him over and over with a waterbottle.

"You wanna kidnap people in the middle of the night, You Little Shit?!" You were yelling.

Nightwing had to pull you off of the man noticing the damage you did, it took everything for Dick not to laugh at this man. He got beat up by a tired nurse with a fuckin waterbottle, needless to say he was proud and the man was swiftly arrested. The pair of you went home to have a well deserved nap.

Jason: Being the man he is he decided that it was a fantastic idea to give you a very strong tazer for your birthday because he thought you might need it and you really wanted one.

"I hope someone would, I'll taze their dick off!" You waved the uncharged tazer around very happy about the gift.

"You'll taze their dick off?" He laughed as he appreciated your enthusiasm.

Unfortunately, when you hope for something bad to happen it usually brings bad things around, you we're trying to get into the apartment with Jason was on the other side which of course the dumb ass trying to kidnap you didn't realize that.

By the time Jason get out there you were very clearly tasing this mother fucker in the balls. The man was groaning in very obvious pain, a shot of electricity to the family jewels didn't feel very good.

"You wanna go again, Asshole? You want me to taze you in the mouth, I'm sure that shit hurts just as much."

"I think you got him, Babygirl." He was smiling with full pride. He knew you would never use the taser without knowing 100% that you could do it without getting hurt and you very successfully did.

The man was left there and Jason brought you back inside, put your tazer back on the charger and then showed you all the ways he was very proud of you.

Bruce: He really didn't want you to have any sort of self-defense tool because he knew that if you fought back the likelihood that they would hurt you is extremely higher.

Naturally, you being you you bought a little bracelet that if you press it then it makes a very loud noise which can hurt whoever's ears you're pointing it at.

Another feature on there is that it sent him your location which was probably something that he would have been okay with if that's all it did but alas it was not.

From sparring with Bruce you knew a lot and this asshole pissed you off, trying to kidnap a woman while she was pumping gas? "I think the fuck not."

You had very promptly pushed the button and cupped it against the man's ear which caused him to get disoriented and fall flat on his stupid face.

"That's why you don't mess with girls at the gaspump! Suck my metaphorical dick, Motherfucker!" You would think that this was a Fortnite game with the way that you were acting, to anyone else it would have been the funniest thing ever but of course Bruce doesn't have the biggest sense of humor.

He thought what you were doing was reckless and stupid, you should have gotten your car and left. Bruce proceeded to lecture you the entire night about exactly what you should have done and why it was dangerous and how you're lucky that it didn't turn out worse than it was.

"We don't take pride when we hurt someone and we sure as hell don't gloat. What we're you thinking? He couldve got up. That was reckless."

Tim: Tim craved coffee like it was some sort of drug needing to be injected into jis veins and you really really loved the little muffins the coffee shop had. You got up early in the morning and we're making your way to the coffee shop.

You figured out you were being followed quite quickly so of course the only thing you had in your bag was your wallet and maybe a few pens. Nothing the regular person would think would be overly useful in a situation like this.

The pen was useful though if you used it right, it was swiftly brought between your fingers, you texted Tim you were being followed. He very promptly shot out of bed to protect you, throwing on whatever close were scattered around the messy bedroom.

Once he found you, you were leturing the man on all the places you could stick the pen. The man was on the ground pinned to the floor. None of the Batboys were ever gonna let their woman go out of sight without some sorta training.

"I could stick this in your jugular, if you'd like. I could gove you the choice you were never gonna give me."

"You could stick it in his eye, its less lethal and could be considered an accident." Tim chimed in with a smile, the smile on Tim's face was quickly matched by yours.

The man underneath you was panicking because for all he knew you two were complete psychopaths considering jow many Gotham has. He started begging for you to let him go, You got off him while clicking the pen which made him run off like a little crybaby.

Tim and you walked hand and hand to the coffee shop like nothing ever happened. You both knew the pen wasn't what scared him if was your confidence and the way you spouted things off like a crazy person.

Damian: Damian was very much his father's son and he would do the same psychotics weird ass shit that Bruce did. The only difference was he asked you and you very clearly said no to a tracking device being put in you but that did not stop him from doing it and he did it very easily without you noticing.

Of course he didn't know anything was wrong until he noticed that you're tracking device really didn't move too much. He was kinda worried but it was instantly interrupted.

The phone rang and it was a guy calling for ransom while a guy in the background argued with you and said something about you stabbing him in the ass.

"We want a million." The man said off the bat.

"That's all your gonna ask for?!" Then there was the sound of the phone hitting the floor while you beat the shit out of them with a chair leg.

"You should really have better quality shit if you're gonna kidnap someone!" You yelled while the two men grunted on the floor, the first one had had the chair smashed into his back and this one was being wacked with a chair leg.

Damian showed up in regular clothes, he could tell by the phone call you didn't need any help.

"How the fuck did you know where I am?" You asked with clear suspicion and irritation.

"I traced the cell phone call." He lied very easily but there was something off and you could tell. He always kind of scratched his chin when he told you a lie and he had a shitty poker face.

"You put a tracker in me?! When we get home, you are cutting it out. I dont care that you track me but I'd rather not have a weird piece of metal in my body, Damian! I already have this stupid birth control for you, but at least that shit's been tested."

He knew that there was no point in fighting with you so therefore when the both of you got home, he cut it out and he stitched it back up and did everything he could to apologize without actually saying the words. You wore tracking bracelet from then on, a lot less invasive of the body.

Damian definitely was left apologizing over that for months cause he knew he betrayed your wishes and your trust. It was flowers, jewlery, gifts galore. Damian was never good with his words, you knew he was sorry but you wanted him to say it. Once he did the tension between the two of you quickly evaporated into thin air.

-> Masterlist <-

-> Send me prompts if you'd like <-

[demonic0angel]

DcxDp

Danny is living on the streets in Crime Alley the main issue is that he was deaged into a six year old by the GIW and had to run. The Fenton Parents were across the country at a ghost hunter's convention and Jazz was away at college. Danny's been on the streets for a few weeks now, his phone was broken during his escape meaning no contact with Sam and Tucker.

Red Hood had just finished a report on a joint case with the other bats concerning a drug ring trying to set up in Gotham and Crime Alley, when this tiny six year old with a white shock in his black hair and bright blue eyes and old bandages from multiple injuries popped out of a dumpster holding a pack of unopened hot dogs that were only a day passed the sell by date.

The two immediately make eye contact and Danny just slams the lid on the dumpster and wiggles intangibly out of a rusted out hole on the back of the dumpster and runs when his intangiblity flickers and fails as soon as he's out. Jason isn't exactly sure what he saw for a moment but when he realized what happened he's immediately on the search for his tiny doppelganger.

Jason snatched up the little kid. For a moment, he paused to think, ‘Am I seriously kidnapping a kid?’ before he recollected his thoughts and explained to himself, ‘Yes, because this kid needs help.’

The kid wriggled in his hands, frowning and pouting. He kicked his little legs as he cried out, "Kidnapper! Kidnapper! Help! Someone help!"

"Kid, where are your parents?" Jason asked. He held the struggling kid and brought him closer to his chest.

Something like an electric current from static buildup zapped between them. Jason flinched and the boy stilled.

Then he went quiet and sniffled, cuddling closer to Jason's chest plate, rubbing his chubby cheek against the bat-symbol there.

Jason awkwardly moved his face away from his taser and asked again, "Kid, where are your parents?"

"... gone," he mumbled. "My sista can't find me."

Jason gently patted his back, bringing him closer into a hug. The kid buried himself closer and Jason wondered if his initial fight was due to fear or something. "What's your name?"

"... Danny."

"Okay, Danny. Let's find your sister, okay? Want to come with me?"

Danny nodded silently and Jason resisted the urge to smile and coo. He was quite cute, with his pouty expression and teary eyes. Jason used his thumb to rub away at some dirt on his cheek before adjusting his hold on him.

"Alright, kiddo, what can you tell me about your sister?"

——

Danny stared at the strange, liminal man who was afflicted with ectoplasmic rot, as he went on a vague tangent about Jazz.

He was pretty sure that Jazz and his friends were already searching for him, since he had been gone for awhile now.

He was also pretty sure that if he gave up too much information, this man would've been able to find her too quickly, which prevented Danny from giving him the help that he needed.

Danny sighed.

Who knew that after he would be deaged, he'd have to adopt a grown man?

[ellecdc]

the pilot - Pretty Woman

slow burn poly!wolfstar Pretty Woman (1990) au: established wolfstar, escort!reader, side jegulily, eventual dorlene, political heist-type situation, depictions and descriptions of sex-work

I // II

cw: discussion of experienced transphobia, discussion of someone else's homophobia, the Black Family, writers poor understanding of UK politics, mature themes and discussion of full service sex work [3k words]

link to series masterlist

“Absolutely bloody fucking not, are you out of your mind?” 

“Cas, please.” You begged as you followed your roommate out of her room and into the kitchen.

“You have plenty of bags, why do you need to borrow mine?” She grumbled as she flicked on the kettle. 

“The room is booked at the Ritz, Cas; I cannot walk in with my fraying duffle.” 

Her movements paused as she turned to look at you incredulously. “The Ritz? Fucking hells, babe, where’d you find this guy?”

You shrugged your shoulders helplessly. “He found me.”

“Blimey…if he has enough money to throw around for a casual stay at a hotel like that and-”

“Me.” You finished for her. “I know…I- I’d like it to go well, in case…”

“In case he decides to book again.” 

You nodded solemnly at Dorcas who continued staring at you, only looking away when her water came to a boil. 

“Fine. Fine…okay, you can borrow my Prada bag.”

You squealed as you hugged your friend from behind as she prepared her tea, ignoring her grumbling on account of the pleased smile she had on her face.

“Thank you, Cas. Really…this….this could be good for us, yeah?”

Her face softened as she turned to look at you as you backed towards her bedroom to retrieve her bag; guilt, grief and hope intermingling in her eyes as she nodded at you. 

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

Your cheap heels clicked across along the marble floor which reflected the lights like diamonds under the many crystal chandeliers hanging on the high ceilings. You were wearing your most expensive jacket, but you still felt horribly out of place; you weren’t exactly wearing a whole lot underneath it (everything was going to be coming off shortly anyway…), and you were delusional enough to feel like everyone in the lobby was somehow onto you.

This late into the evening, most guests were dressed to the nines as they made their way to casinos and orchestras; cocktail dresses and more than a few tuxedos painting your vision in every direction you looked. You couldn’t get to the elevator quickly enough, though you were forced to spend the ride up staring at your reflection ad infinitum on account of the parallel mirrors in every direction.

Fifth floor, room 522. 

The room itself had its own miniature chandelier hanging above the room number illuminating it in the hall. You looked back at the text on your phone to confirm you were at the right place.

Great! Looking forward to seeing you: room 522 on the 5th floor

You’d had high paying clients before – men who could afford to spend their money on sex – but not like this, never like this.

You suddenly felt incredibly nervous and hoped you could make a good impression; if he was pleasant, you’d be more than happy to have him as a repeat client.

You’ve been through worse.

You took one last look through your borrowed bag to make sure you had your essentials, as well as your ID and taser in case of emergencies, before taking a deep breath and knocking gently; cautious of the hall of other rooms who may be winding down for the evening and not wanting to draw attention to what was very clearly an escort.

Please let this go well.

“Okay, so, explain to me again why you couldn’t just hire an actress or some theatre student?” James asked as he rubbed painfully at his temples.

Sirius groaned and threw his head back. “Because James; an actress will have a portfolio – a history - that my family can dig into. They’ll also have dreams of pursuing other acting jobs after this one. I need someone nondescript, unheard of, and not going anywhere so that my mother and her cronies can’t poke holes into our story.”

“Same reason he can’t use a friend.” Regulus added from his place on a tufted chair in the luxurious hotel room currently being paid for by his and Sirius’ family.

“Right. Mother and everyone will know if I’m using a friend, or an acquaintance and it will point back to this larger scheme.” Sirius agreed readily.

“But wouldn’t it make more sense if you had met your new fiancé through a friend?” Remus questioned.

“Sure. If my friends weren’t the two of you, Lily, and Marlene.” Sirius added simply.

“I just don’t understand how we jumped straight to prostitution.” James muttered.

“Look,” Sirius levelled, “I’ve thought about this long and hard. I’ve also discussed this with Andromeda and our Uncle Alphard, and they both agree this is the best way to go. Our family won’t have any reason to have met our prostitute unless they themselves have hired a prostitute, and this girl is supposed to be from the opposite end of town, so I doubt there’d have been any overlap anyways. She also won’t have much of a background for them to dig into – and she’d be hard to get to if they tried.”

“Why would she be hard to get to?”

Remus grimaced and answered James for him. “Prostitutes often have pimps, James. Men that...organise the contact for the girls. Sirius would have had to go through one to find this girl.”

“I thought that was a myth?” Regulus interjected, but Remus shook his head.

“It’s estimated that approximately 65-85% of prostitution is pimp-dominated.”

“So, some guy sold her to you?” James asked incredulously.

“Sort of...I guess.” Sirius admitted.

James groaned and looked at the ceiling “I hate this.”

“This is the beginning of the end, James. We’re taking the Black’s down once and for all; they won’t be able to hurt any of us ever again.” Sirius lamented, his eyes moving from James towards his younger brother at the end of the sentence.

Regulus nodded at his brother before there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Well boys, show time.” James said as he stood from his seat and moved to answer the door.

Sirius wrung his hands nervously as he heard James greet you at the door, sharing nervous looks with Remus and Regulus who both sat up straighter.

“-get you anything? There’s a full bar here, you can help yourself to whatever you want.” James was saying, though Sirius could almost hear your grin and polite shake of your head.

“I’m alright thanks, I’m not-”

But the second you stepped into the suite's living room you fell silent and looked at the three boys in horror; Sirius realised what he’d done wrong too little too late.

Both Remus and Regulus stood to greet you, and you pulled your bag into your chest and stepped back so quickly that the picture frame on the wall you slammed into shook. 

“It’s okay, we-”

“What is this?” You whispered overtop of Sirius, eyes darting nervously between the four men now all standing with their hands raised in placation, though Sirius felt as though it likely had the opposite effect. 

“Fuck this looks bad, doesn’t it?” James muttered nervously.

“Shut up, James.” 

“What is this?” You repeated a little louder.

“Y/N, right? My name is Sirius, love. I’m the one you spoke with on the phone.” Sirius offered as calmly as he could muster. “I’m sorry we surprised you, but I promise you’re okay, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“We just want to talk.” Remus added, and you let out a hysterical laugh.

“You hired an escort to chat?” You deadpanned, and Sirius’ noticed your eyes turning glassy in your panic.

“Okay, okay. Hang on, just…” Sirius started, moving in slow motion as he stepped towards the side table his wallet was sitting on whilst holding your eye contact the entire time. “Look, this is the price we agreed upon, right?” He asked, only breaking your eye contact to count the bills out in his hands as he inched closer to you. “You can take this right now and leave if you want, but-” he continued, fanning out the rest of the cash he’d withdrawn, “It’s tripled if you stay and just hear us out.”

You looked at him in pure discombobulation as he placed the agreed upon sum in your hand and closed your grip around it for you before backing away slowly. 

“Sit, please; we can order room service, you can help yourself to anything from the bar. Just…hear us out.” Remus offered as he gestured towards one of the wingback chairs. 

You swallowed thickly and let your gaze drift over the four men again; Remus who was looking at you pleadingly, Regulus who looked very pained on your behalf, James who looked very embarrassed by this whole misunderstanding, and Sirius who was looking at you like you were his only hope. 

“This…it’s not-?”

“No. No, there’s…no. No sex, nothing funny, just…a sales pitch.” He offered awkwardly. 

You scanned the room again, and though your knuckles were no longer white, you were still hugging your bag tight against your body.

“Can I take your jacket?” James offered, taking a step towards him. You simply looked at him before your gaze fell to the rather informal clothes everyone else was wearing.

“Do you have something more comfortable to wear in your bag?” Remus offered, obviously reading your worry for what it was as you nodded at him. 

“The washroom is right there, if you wanted to change? Or…if you wanted to call a cab.” Sirius offered. You nodded at him before disappearing through the door and locking it behind you. 

“Fucking smooth, Sirius.” Regulus muttered as he sat back down with a dramatic sigh. 

“Well I don’t fucking know, Reg! I’ve not exactly done this before, either.”

“That could have been bad.”

“Well we don’t know if she’s going to agree or not so it still could be bad.” Remus countered.

“I don’t think I can stomach having to hire another one.” Sirius muttered as they heard the door to the bathroom click. 

You exited, still looking nervous but you were no longer wearing your jacket which Sirius took as a good sign.

You were wearing a pair of well fitting jeans and a black turtleneck with a pair of black heeled boots - classic and nondescript. You looked put together enough, but like you wouldn’t draw attention to yourself. Though, Sirius figured a girl as pretty as you was likely to garner a few stares regardless of what you were wearing. 

That was probably good for business, which reminded Sirius why you were here. 

“Are you hungry? Do you want to order something to eat? Anything to drink?”

“No, thank you.” You replied as you accepted the chair Remus was gesturing for you to sit in. You allowed James to take your jacket, but kept your bag in your lap. 

“Water?” Regulus asked, and you finally managed to make eye contact with one of them.

“I have a bottle of water, thank you.” 

That seemed…fair, Sirius supposed. He guessed you were used to spending time in the company of rather predatory men.

“Okay, so, I’m really sorry about the confusion, but the reason I hired you is that I was hoping for your help.” Sirius said as he hooked up his laptop to the TV and started his slideshow. 

“You did not actually make a presentation.” James snorted, causing Sirius to look at him nonplussed.

“Of course I didn’t.” He responded simply, blushing only when he turned to notice you were looking at him with one raised eyebrow. “Regulus made it.”

“Someone had to.”

“This really is a sales pitch?” You asked almost disbelievingly; the ghost of a smirk on your lips. 

“Okay, well, if everyone would shut up, I’d get on with it.” Sirius chided with a smile, glad that you were relaxing enough to at least chuckle lightly at his expense. 

And Sirius told you.

He told you that his name was Sirius Black, that he came from the rather ignoble Black dynasty that had their claws (and more importantly, their heavily lined pockets) deeply entrenched in the rightwing government; currently backing the particularly problematic Tom Riddle who was running for Prime Minister. He explained that he’d run away from home at only 16 to live with James and his family due to the abuse and hostility his parents held, and how he could not support what they stood for. However, when his younger brother came out as trans to his parents - his parents who were now relying on their only remaining child to continue their legacy and help paint a picture of themselves as the proper, wholesome political family they pretended to be - they were desperate to play damage control. 

They promised to leave Regulus alone - they’d have nothing to do with him, but they wouldn’t publicly shame him - if Sirius played nice. Nice, meaning living a respectable, traditional lifestyle. This meant that Sirius and Remus had been dating behind closed doors for almost eight years now whilst Remus worked as Sirius’ personal assistant, and Sirius pretended he wasn’t in contact with his younger sibling should the press ask. 

His parents folded at Sirius’ friendship with James and Marlene, simply because no one would be able to explain away Sirius and James’ nearly lifelong friendship (he’d lived with his family for Christ’s sake), and even the Black’s understood the power in having ties with other wealthy and powerful families like the Potter’s and MacKinnon’s, even if their politics didn’t align with their own. 

“How does this all involve me?” You asked then, surprising Sirius out of his well rehearsed schpiel to find your eyes trained on him. 

“Right, so…my parents are tired of my bachelor lifestyle.”

“It doesn’t paint a very traditional picture to have the heir to a powerful family pushing 30 and still living in a bachelor pad with his unmarried mate and employee.” Remus offered dryly. 

“They want you to find a girlfriend.” You deduced.

“They want me to find a wife.” Sirius corrected. 

“And that’s…me?” You asked around a chuckle, your smile falling when you realised no one was laughing with you. “Oh my god…”

“I’ve told them I’ve been seeing someone for quite some time now, but didn’t want to bring them into this world until I was sure about them - until I was sure they weren’t ‘just after the family money’.” Sirius explained solemnly. “They want me to make it official, and they want me to start bringing you around.” 

“Around…”

“Events; galas, fundraisers, press opportunities. The likes.” Regulus explained flippantly. 

“Right…” You offered in monotone. “And you want to show up to galas, fundraisers, and press opportunities with a hooker?” 

James turned to give Sirius a look that seemed to read ‘see?’, but Remus responded first.

“Well…we were sort of hoping he could show up with you.” Remus corrected gently. You seemed surprised and more than a tad confused at Remus’ apparent defence of you. 

“They’re terrible people, Y/N.” Sirius blurted. “They are terrible and they stand for terrible things. They put all of their money into anti LGBTQIA+ propaganda and organisations, they actively work towards harming a large portion of UK citizens, they want to reverse any progress the country has made in reproductive healthcare and women’s rights, they’re trying to ban fucking children’s books, I-”

“Then why play along? Why play nice, as you said? Marrying an escort seems like a very dramatic way to keep your brother out of the limelight.” You argued.

“Clever girl.” Regulus murmured as he leaned further back into his chair. 

“Family inheritance.” Sirius offered plainly. “I have access to use family money, but do not have access to direct family money. Not until I fulfil the requirements of my inheritance.”

“The requirements being an approved heterosexual wedding.” James filled in. 

“Regulus is no longer entitled to his sum of the inheritance after my parents disowned him.” Sirius continued. “But that means that, should I be successful, I would inherit both of our portions.”

“Which would make Sirius the primary shareholder in the Black estates.” Regulus continued. 

“Meaning you’d have final say over allocation of funds…” You finished for him. 

“You are clever.” Remus agreed with Regulus’ earlier sentiments. You turned bashful and looked down at your lap to avoid having to look at any of them, Sirius found himself smiling at the top of your head. 

“And I just…play along?” You asked then.

“You’ll be paid - handsomely - any time you’re with any of us. And once I have access to the estate, you’ll be given a portion of it.”

“It’s no small sum, either.” Regulus assured you. 

“I will make sure it is well worth your time, Y/N.” Sirius promised. 

He let that sit in the air as he moved towards the bar and poured himself a drink before picking up his wallet. “And here.” He added as he handed you the other portion of the cash he’d taken out for you.

“What?”

“I promised you triple if you heard us out; you’ve heard us out.” He responded simply as he took a seat beside Remus. 

You fanned out the bills in front of you like you couldn’t believe your eyes; you weren’t counting them, necessarily, but proving to yourself it was real. 

“They’re terrible?” You asked then, but when Sirius looked up, he could see you were asking Regulus. 

“Awful.” Regulus murmured, eyes staring unseeingly at the coffee table in front of him as James placed a comforting hand on his knee. “Honestly, I’m…scared; not necessarily for myself, I mean, I know I’m safe and have people in my corner, but…there are so many people out there like me who don’t and…”

You nodded in understanding as Regulus trailed off. 

“Okay.” You whispered as you folded up the money as best you could and put it in your bag before standing.

“Okay?” Sirius asked as he stood, too; quickly followed by Remus, James, and Regulus.

“Okay.” You repeated, nodding once to yourself before meeting Sirius’ gaze. “I’ll do it, I’ll…I’ll help.” 

Sirius felt a smile take over his face as he looked at you - his dame in shining armour for all intents and purposes - as you accepted your jacket from James. 

“Tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it; I’ll help.”

[zylev-blog]

Jazz is Special Agent Fenton of the FBI. She doesn’t go by Fenton when she’s out on a case though; she uses Nightingale. She does this because it keeps her identity secret.

Jazz is investigating a series of crimes. One of the other agents goes undercover to try and set them up in a sting operation. Things go south and now Jazz is going to Gotham to view the murder scene.

When she gets there, GCPD try to stop her at the crime scene barrier. She flashes her FBI jacket and her badge and is given access. She walks over to the police commissioner, a man named Gordon. Gordon obviously doesn’t recognize her, and neither does the vigilante with him—Batman.

“This is a closed crime scene, Miss…?” Gordon asks.

“Nightingale. FBI.” She shows Gordon her badge. “You and your men can clear out. This is our jurisdiction now.”

“We haven’t gotten approval to—“ Gordon stops, but was interrupted by an officer walking over to Gordon and whispering something in his ear. “Fine.” Gordon grumbled, and started telling his men to leave.

“You too, Spooky. I don’t need a vigilante’s help.” She waves off the man without another thought, but Batman doesn’t move. Instead, he completely ignores her and starts walking towards the crime scene. “Obviously, you didn’t hear me.” Jazz scowled. “If you don’t leave, I will remove you with force, Batman.”

Batman turns to look at her. “That isn’t how things work here, Agent Nightingale.”

“It is now.” She kept her expression neutral. “Clear out, or be removed. Your choice.”

Batman tried to look intimidating. Jazz refused to bow. The two stared each other down before Batman took another step towards the crime scene. She reacted instantly. Pulling out a taser, she placed it on his back before he could even react.

He reacted quickly, and sent three batarangs at her in rapid succession. His movements were a bit slower than normal after getting tased. She dodged two of the batarangs, and opted to catch the third in her hand. She flicked it away lazily and cracked her knuckles with a small smile. “I love it when they choose force.”

Batman didn’t react to her comment. He seemed to understand he wasn’t going to be able to get around her without a major fight. He let out an annoyed grunt and grappled away.

Three days later, they meet on the roof of an abandoned building. It seems like Batman was still on the case after all. Jazz was not happy about it. She felt that he was going to ruin the entire operation. She couldn’t trust someone to have her back if they didn’t show their face. She doesn’t let the annoyance show on her face as Batman joins her at the edge of the rooftop.

“I thought I told you to stay off my case, Batman.” She said quietly.

Batman gave a quiet grunt. If she had to put it to words, it would translate to a ‘I do what I want.’

She didn’t speak to him again, but she didn’t kick him out, either. The two didn’t speak a word as they sat for two hours, inspecting the warehouse across the street. It was nearly morning by the time Batman left. She did make sure he left, too—she watched him grapple down the street and heard the roar of the Batmobile pulling away before she breathed out a sigh of relief.

Watching the building was doing nothing. She was going to have to get closer. She was going to have to go undercover herself. The thought didn’t make her any happier, even with knowing what happened to the last agent that went undercover for this operation. She also knew that to keep her tracker on her at all times, she would need to shove it inside a place that nobody would look for it. And boy was that uncomfortable.

Two days after she met Batman did she meet Brucie Wayne for the first time. By now she had been undercover with the modeling agency for a day, and it was going well so far. She was playing her part perfectly, but it could take weeks for them to trust her enough to give her information that she needed to know.

She had been hired to be arm candy for a wealthy man in Gotham. It wasn’t Brucie, though she knew he had a few models on his arms as well. She had gotten through most of the night without incident before she ran into Brucie. Quite literally. Brucie’s champagne spilled down her dress, and she gave a mock scream of outrage.

Brucie tried to clean up her dress, but she swatted his hands away and went to the bathroom to clean up. She never noticed the tracker that Bruce put on the nape of her neck. When she came back out, she noticed her date looking for her. She rejoined him and the rest of the night went smoothly.

A month into the operation and she finally was getting some results. She had been moved from building to building more than once, but she finally got breadcrumbs for what she needed to take them down. It took her another three weeks after that to gather all of the evidence she needed.

At the final takedown, she was joined by none other than Batman. She had half-expected him to show up after she noticed the tracker on her neck six hours after it was placed. She didn’t know when she had even run into the Batman at a stuffy charity gala. She had debated crushing it, but she didn’t have backup and she figured his help was better than nothing. She still didn’t trust him, though. She made sure he knew that, too.

Bringing the tracker up to her lips, she whispered, “Don’t you know it’s rude to listen in on a lady, Batman?”

Together, she and Batman took down the traffickers. They had been using models and trafficking them all over the world to be used as sex slaves. She feels a certain satisfaction while watching everyone be escorted out in cuffs.

“Nice work.” Batman says, figure tall and dark.

She hums. “Thanks.” The silence stretches on for a few minutes before she adds in, “Thanks for having my back.”

“I thought you didn’t need a vigilante’s help?” Batman teased.

She didn’t look at him, but she could hear the teasing on his voice. She smirks and crosses her arms. “I don’t. But you’re harder to get rid of than a ghost in a net.”

Batman didn’t respond back to her, and it takes her a few moments to realize what she had said. She was of course, referencing her parents ghosthunting activities. But he didn’t even know her real name, so how would he even know what he was talking about?

“When do you leave?” Batman asked.

“After everything’s wrapped up. Why, you going to miss me?” She finally turned to look at him. She wished she could run facial recognition and figure out who was under that mask. The psychologist in her wanted to know just why a man would put on a bat mask and fight crime.

“I have a case that could use your input.” Batman deflected her question.

Was that a compliment from the Batman? His way of telling her that he trusted her opinion? Or was it an olive branch?

“Mine or the FBI’s?” She already knew the answer to his question, but she wanted him to say it.

Instead, he just grunted in annoyance. She rolled her eyes and pulled a card out of the pouch that she kept her FBI id at and handed it to him. “That’s my office phone number.” She tapped the card with her finger as he held it. “If you want my personal cell, you’ve got to earn it.”

He nodded and tucked the card into his utility belt. She could see the beginnings of a smile from Batman as he disappeared into the shadows and grappled away.

Surprisingly, it only took Batman a week to call her. She had gotten settled back into her office in DC, and had mostly forgotten about the encounter. She had to report Batman’s appearance in her report, but beyond that, she didn’t have to explain that he helped her take down the ring.

She made a flight back to Gotham the next day. Batman brought her into the Batcave and told her everything she needed to know about the case. She didn’t know where the Batcave was, as Batman had blindfolded her, but she was impressed with his initiative.

“Im not wearing that.” She glared at him with all of the venom she had—which was quite a lot.

“You can’t go out in your FBI jacket.” Batman deadpanned.

“Wasn’t planning on it. Do you think I’m a rookie?” She shook her head and gestured at the costume that the vigilante had made for her. “That doesn’t give you the right to—to—ugh! Im not your Batgirl, or Batwoman, or whatever! I came out as a consult. I don’t dress up in latex, and I don’t wear costumes!”

The costume itself was gorgeous, not that she’d ever tell Batman that. It was solid black, had a red bat on the front of it, and was fully equipped with a utility belt, knife holsters, and a taser. It had a full cowl like Batmans, along with the pointy ears on top.

“I don’t see the problem.” Batman’s voice had undertones of offense in it.

“Look.” She gestured at the costume. “Im honored, truly, that you want me to watch your back. But I’m not a vigilante. Nor will I ever be!”

She had watched what vigilantism had done to Danny, Sam, Tucker, and Valerie over the years. Sure, she’d gone out with them more than once. Without a mask. But there was something more complex about the costume sitting on the table in front of her.

“You said you were going to help.” Batman’s gruff voice got closer as he took a few steps towards her.

“And I did.” She gestured to the Batcomputer. “I already gave you my opinions of the case. I dedicated a weekend of PTO time to be here. But this is as far as my help goes.”

“What about the last operation? You owe me.”

“Owe you?!” She exclaimed, thumping her finger against his chest. “I told you to get lost. You still stuck around. You could’ve cost me the operation!”

“It worked.”

She groaned in frustration. She was close enough to him now that she could smell the faint smell of Kevlar and aftershave from him. She rubbed a hand down her face as she thought over what had happened last time she was in Gotham.

“What about all your other winged vigilantes? You had uh.. Nightwing, and Robin, right?”

“It’s only Nightwing.” Batman responded. “He’s unavailable.”

“I could’ve sworn you had a Robin, too.” She looked up at him and noticed the stiffness of his body.

“Robin has moved on.” Batman replied.

Hmm. Touchy subject. She wasn’t going to push. It wasn’t any of her buisness.

“You must be really desperate if you’re trying this hard to get me to go out in that.” She smirked.

“Things could go wrong.” Batman said with a quiet sigh.

“Don’t they always?” She tilted her head.

“Not always.” Batman mimicked her actions, clearly studying her. “What will it take?”

“If I put that mask on,” She gestured to the table behind her, “You take yours off.”

“No.”

“Fine. Deals off, then.” She pulled her phone out and immediately started looking for flights back to DC.

“Why?” He questioned.

“I can’t trust someone who won’t tell me who they are.” She shrugged.

Batman let out a quiet growl. As he took his cowl off, he scowled. “You would know, wouldn’t you, Miss Fenton?”

“Holy shit.” Her eyes got wide.

Bruce Wayne was the Batman.

[leqonsluv3r]

hello! i was just wondering if you could write fluffy hc’s or a one-shot about oc / reader telling re4 leon about getting creeped on in public and him being comforting / however else you think he’d react. it’s something i’ve experienced multiple times and ig i’m just looking for some comfort after a recent encounter. i hope you’re having a great day n i appreciate your writing a lot <3

safe with me

—re!4 leon kennedy x reader, a headcanon list

masterlist taglist

leon!kennedy who has been dating you for a couple years and is very protective of you. it’s very normal considering his job. but the second you tell him that your always being watched in public, he gets even more protective like a guard dog.

leon!kennedy who accompanies you out in public because of how much he feels the need to protect you. he’s watching over his shoulder and standing less then five feet from you everytime you go out with him. kind of like a guard dog, but a less overbearing one. bite now and ask questions later.

leon!kennedy who drives you to and from work even on his days off, just so you don’t have to walk from your shared apartment to your job down the street. you could easily walk it, but considering that your getting creeped on in public, leon is protecting you and it makes sense.

leon!kennedy who buys you pepper spray and a taser, teaching you how to use them. it’s just incase, just for emergencies and he hopes you never have to use them. but if he’s gone on a mission, he gave you those things to protect you when he can’t.

leon!kennedy who practically smothers you in kisses when your upset and uncomfortable with the way people (more specifically other men) creep on you in public, catcall you. he knows how uncomfortable that makes you feel. trying his best to soothe the ache somehow.

leon!kennedy who about tears someone a new asshole for even looking at you at the grocery store, five seconds then what’s considered normal. yelling at him and practically dragging the poor man out of the store by his collar like a rabid dog.

leon!kennedy who handles you with such care and such precision that he’s afraid he’ll break you. he knows how tough it is for any person in this world, how unsafe it is. his job and you constantly getting peeped on in public just proves that. he holds you close at night, cuddles and kisses. he keeps you close, his biggest fear besides dying is losing you. it would simply be just unbearable without you.

leon!kennedy who makes sure your comfortable whenever you guys have sex, never pressuring you. he needs you to know he’s not like other guys, not like other people. so he’s soft and gentle until you tell him otherwise.

leon!kennedy who lets you squeeze his hand when you two go out in public, one squeeze for your fine and two squeezes for your uncomfortable. or someone’s peeping at you, looking at you in a way that makes your skin crawl.

leon!kennedy who lets you share your location with him just so he has an idea of where you’re at incase of an emergency. he’s not being overbearing, he just needs to know your safe, and you don’t object to that in the slightest.

leon!kennedy who sandwiches himself in between you and a guy at the bar who keeps eyeing you, like your a piece of meat. like your not a human person with feelings. he just rests a hand on your lower back and rubs soothing circles to ease the obvious tension in your face and body.

leon!kennedy who practically punches the guy for flirting with you and making you uncomfortable right in front of him. the stranger is oblivious to the fact that you are so obviously there with leon. it makes his blood boil, your back tenses underneath his touch on your lower back.

leon!kennedy who punches the guy in the face, “i bet your fun and easy in bed.” one of the many disgusting things said but leon takes care of it for you, punching him without hesitation as the man falls back off the stool and lands on the floor of the bar. those words are all it took for leon to take the punch, take him out. because your not a piece of meat, your a person. a person that he loves and would do anything for.

leon!kennedy who drives you home to your guys shared apartment and holds your hand on the console, comforting you and making sure that you were okay. because no one deserves to be treated like that, especially you.

leon!kennedy who ices his knuckles with a bag of peas from the freezer when you guys get home. letting you just cuddle up next to him on the couch. he holds you with his uninjured hand and presses a kiss to your head, “it’ll be alright, it’s okay.” and “i’ll protect you.”

leon!kennedy who vows to himself and to you that he will always do right by you, even if he makes some questionable choices in doing it. as long as your safe and with him, that’s all that matters. he loves you more then anything and people should know that he doesn’t like the people he loves being messed with. especially you.

an: im sorry this took me so long, anon. i’ve been backed up with requests (and i still am 😭) but i live for the protective boyfriend. i just imagine leon being like a protective guard dog considering all the shit he has to deal with. but i hope this met ur expectations <33 anyways, i love you all. thank you for getting me to 700 again :,) u guys are bizarre for that. pls reblog, like and follow if you enjoy. kisses, xx.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @argreion @sqiim @adollrable @leonkennedygvrl (my taglist is linked above at the beginning if you would like to join <33)

[gothamite-rambler]

Did Alfred just give Jason a gun as a gift? Aww, that's so sweet!

Alfred Pennyworth opened the door for Jason Todd with a warm smile, but Jason looked confused by the unexpected invitation.

Jason: Did you call me?

Alfred: Yes, wipe your feet and follow me.

Jason (suspicious): Okay.

Jason followed Alfred through the grand halls of Wayne Manor until they reached a door that led to a concealed room. Alfred calmly pulled out a handgun and held it out for Jason.

Alfred: You want this Colt M1911?

Jason (bewildered): You invited me over here to give me a gun? I always imagined Bruce would do this, but not you. Wow, this whole room is filled with weapons.

As Jason stepped inside, he took in the sight of handguns, knives, tasers, and a variety of other weaponry neatly arranged throughout the secret room.

Jason (surprised): Shit, this is quite the arsenal. Sorry for my language.

Alfred (waving away those concerns): You’re fine. Long story short, I have no need for this anymore. I used it back in my day. Shot a lot of racists with this… It was an undocumented war, mind you. Bruce whines about me owning it, but I don’t take his concerns seriously. Still, I respect that he doesn't want me to keep this particular weapon. It reminds him of the one that shot his parents.

Jason listened intently, slightly taken aback.

Alfred: I care about Bruce and have kept this hidden, and it helps that I have an affinity for shotguns over handguns.

Jason (questioning this): This… is a lot to take in. I knew you had guns, but you grew up in England. Aren't the gun laws there strict?

Alfred (half-joking): I had many reasons for moving to America, and it wasn't for your shoddy healthcare. That's for sure.

Jason nodded then chuckled.

Alfred: You have an affinity for guns, and I might not have long for this world… possibly. I’ve never been fully against your 'kill policy' when it comes to the type of people you take out, so why don’t we count this as a birthday gift? Don’t even feel the need to answer—just keep it. Here’s a box of bullets.

Alfred handed him the gun and a box of bullets, leaving Jason momentarily speechless.

Jason: Okay, um… I’m not sure how to process the fact that my father’s butler just gave me a gun as a gift—or that there’s an undocumented war. But I appreciate this. I wasn’t aware you cared about me this much.

Alfred patted Jason on the shoulder and locked his secret gun room before leading the still-confused but pleased young man back out.

Alfred: I care for all of you, Jason. As a gun owner myself, I understand the desire for quality weapons. That gun has served me well, and it can serve you too.

Jason: That crazy homeless person on the bus told me this would happen in a vague way… never expected it to come true.

Alfred (chuckling): Interesting, isn’t it? If Bruce ever sees that gun, just inform him I gave it to you. I'll confirm it. He can’t fire me anyway.

Jason (nodding): That makes sense. Can I hear more about this undocumented war?

Alfred (checking his watch): My break is almost over. Next time.

Jason: Damn, I can’t get the war story… were they Nazis?

Alfred: It’s a long story, Jason. They weren't Nazis though, just a different type of racists. Would you like to take some pie before you leave?

Jason: Someone I trust just gave me a gun, and now I’m getting dessert. The crazy homeless man on the subway was right!

Alfred: I’m someone you trust… I appreciate that, Jason. You know what, feck it, you can take the whole pie home.

Jason (eager): Yes!

[thefusioncelestial]

Mix 8: The Rugged Pop Star

Anonymous asked:

Hello, Love your stories and I love the merge thing. Now, you see, I've got a huge crush on Charlie Puth and I was wondering if you could merge me with him? That would be awesome to be able to live that. I'm a pretty tall guy, kinda hairy on the chest, black hair and dark brown eyes. I wonder what I would look like after.

Can you help me? Your price will be mine!

Another successful show for the mega successful pop star:

Life is good, life is perfect, it would be.

Charlie found out about prowlers: celebrities born from jealous people forcibly assimilating the target of their ire & living the dream they worked so hard to obtain. He himself was almost a victim to this after a typical LA party. Some preppy kid wanted his fame for himself. Charlie knew that something had to be done. He needed a defense against this phenomenon.

With his money & connections, he able to find out how others are doing it. His heart sank. He would only need to do it once, but he would need to assimilate another. This would give him a natural defense against predation attempts on him, like a vaccine. But who? He would be taking away someone's right to live their life independently & of their own free will.

He heard of stories of celebrities losing it all, after choosing a member of their management team, it meant duties as a star in their field & the behind the scenes work load. He didn't want a super fan, the result could be extreme levels of narcissism, and that has ended the careers of many or destroyed their ability to form relationships.

"Here's your coffee sir," the intern chimed. He was tall, had black hair; lots of facial hair. His clothing choices hid his build, but he seemed a little skinnier than Charlie. Charlie had his choice. He would scope him out first.

The intern was a fan of his, but never confronted Charlie or tried to get an autograph. He was able to separate his own desires from his work. A strong work ethic. He didn't have any outwardly noticeable social media either, no mention that he works for a mega star. A strong work ethic, mature, and not using him for clout. Charlie could dig further and find a more perfect candidate, but he was shaken up. If it were not for the taser gun, someone else would be living his life, and Charlie would be stuck in them forever.

He called this intern to his dressing room. He didn't know what Charlie wanted, maybe to complain about the coffee, but he was happy nonetheless. After he came to the room, he was sat down by Charlie.

The intern was nervous at first, but Charlie explained the situation. He couldn't believe it, Charlie Puth wants me to be a part of him! The intern looked back at his life, university graduated, aside from his job as a part of Charlie Puth's crew, a new addition mind you, he had nothing remarkable going on. That is why he never blasted his job online: he wanted to keep this one. So he worked his hardest & kept his head down. And now he might be mixing his body & mind with his idol.

The intern agreed when Charlie was done. Charlie sighed that this was necessary & thanked him. He informed him that he wanted to do this now. The intern was shocked, now? He blushed. Ok, so be it. Promotion to Charlie Puth.

Charlie went and locked the door. The last thing he needed was for someone to walk in and get grabbed by his transforming self & adding to the result.

Charlie pulled out a flask with red liquid and drank it. He sat down in another chair. He hesitated. He apologized again and with his right hand bid the intern to come.

The intern, overjoyed, took off his shirt and jeans, revealing boxer briefs. He was about to go commando, but Charlie stopped him from doing that.

All they needed to do was touch skin and then press hard into Charlie. Let the process handle the rest. The intern was taller, and had a build similar to Charlie, only more cut. He was hairy too. Like all over. It was intimidating, no going back. Time to invest in better razors.

The intern got on his knees and then pressed his head against Charlie's chest. His head started to go in.

Charlie felt pressure, and a wave of liquid flow into him. Then pleasurable sensations. He didn't let out any moans or groans except from heavy breathing through his mouth. He didn't want to express the pleasures from assimilating others. Even if they consented. His face showed discomfort, like he was going to cry. And then it hit him.

As the intern entered, he liquidized. Within a few minutes his entire being was a slurry of liquid masses swimming throughout Charlie's body. The underwear fell the to ground. The intern entered Puth's brain, his mind. Charlie felt everything the intern was feeling, and so did the intern. As their minds merged, they reconciled their differences. Charlie's apprehension went away, he was at peace. His face changed to calm. He looked as if he was sleeping in the chair.

The mental traits that didn't become a dominate part of Charlie's mind went into his subconsciousness. From the intern's prospective, he was floating in an peaceful abyss. He would hear Charlie's thoughts, feel what he felt emotionally & physically, see what Charlie sees, and on occasion push Charlie's decisions in one direction or another; just a little. He was Charlie Puth now, small part of the whole.

Charlie's body was rife with activity. The liquid mass of the intern moved through out, looking like big lumps under beneath his skin. Pulsating fast and randomly.

The intern's dna latched on to Charlie's. Puth's new dna then fired off. The mass began to settle and in act new changes. Charlie could feel each one, but all he could do was open his mouth wide open & clutch his hands to the arm rest of the chair he was sitting in, and crunch his toes.

He could feel muscles pop, and in other places, his skin constrict. His bones stretch. His hair darken. And then his face morphed. As if a layer of skin toned smooth clay was covering his face, the intern's facial traits settled in. It was if the intern was a sculptor, and with care & precision molded his new face, dyed his hair.

The intern was a hairy man, and when the merger was focusing on his face, hair started to erupt all over. But as if Charlie was standing next to his new body, as if with a pair of scissors, began to cut away the hair. The body & facial hair began to shrink. Finding a happy medium between Charlie's original bare skin & the intern's wall of hair.

The process was over. Charlie let out a deep exhale and closed his mouth. He opened his eyes.

He was a new man.

But what has he become? Can he still sing?

He looked at the dressing room mirror.

He was taller, and more muscular. He wasn't fat or overweight beforehand, but the intern gave him that push. A six pack was more visible, but he kept his mass. His arms were more vascular. Was he a pop star or a bodybuilder?

His arms and shoulders grew too, a thicker neck. Did he really merge with someone, it felt like he just went to the gym more or dieted better. His brushed his hand against his chest.

Body hair?

He had hair on his forearms, on his chest and abs, and in the face. Sideburns that connected to his new beard & mustache. His hair was darker too, & more voluminous.

His mouth was smaller, and his nose moved more upright, but the lower mouth generally followed his original shape. His ears & skull were longer. But his eyes? A mix of his and the intern. More the interns. The signature cut above his right eye was gone.

He wiped his face, scrupled his hair.

The intern's personal history. It was melded to his. He knew partly why he was big now, his was practicing judo beforehand.

He wanted to feel the fresh air now with his new body. He changed into the underwear & shorts of his fusee and then went outside for a jog:

It was exhilarating. He was stronger, faster, had more stamina. He could see why people get assimilated. But this is it. No more. Too many, and the original me will be gone & buried. A monster hunger for more power.

He went back to the dressing room and used the secret shower within. He changed his clothes. Everyone addressed him as Charlie. No one knew the difference. When he asked for the intern & described him, no one knew what he was talking about. Scary.

He went to his vocal coach and tested out his singing voice. He sounded more mature, but kept his perfect pitch abilities. And now he could kick butt too.

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 14

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: Welcome back! Get ready for some more detective work, a pinch of Jo drama, another fire, and the reader finally meets John Winchester...

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,500 Tags/Warnings: Angst, fire hazards, threats, and hurt/comfort.

Part 14: “Message in a Bottle”

A week before Christmas, John Winchester left his house for work before the sun had even risen in the sky. It was still dim when he stepped out onto his porch, which is why he didn’t see it at first.

He heard the clink when his boot kicked at something metallic.

He glanced down and found a small badge lying on the ground. He bent to pick it up, and on further inspection, it was a fire department’s badge. A replica, probably, because it had Dean’s number on it: 20579.

The badge was also splattered with blood.

Later at his office, John handed it over to his partner for his inspection.

“It’s actually paint,” John said. “Forensics looked it over. No prints, of course.”

“That’s a shame,” Cas said. His tone was mild, but his face was as grave as John’s as he considered the crimson-stained badge. They stood together in the bullpen of the 84th Precinct.

“And I got this little present a few days ago,” John admitted quietly. He grabbed a folder off his desk and showed Cas its contents: a picture of Sam leaving the courthouse while talking on his cell, climbing into his car. Someone was watching his sons.

“I already have a police detail on him,” John said, heaving a sigh. “I requested approval for Dean’s this morning.”

Cas’s frown was deepening, along with his furrowed brows. “We may need to ask for backup on this.” 

John shook his head. “Rufus won’t give it to us.”

Their esteemed Lieutenant thought John was on a vendetta with a ghost, stirring up a conflict of his own making. He only approved a temporary police detail for Sam, with the condition that John stopped what he was doing, let the Fire Department handle the serial arsonist, and let this blow over.   

But Rufus should’ve known better than that by now. This was personal, and John wouldn’t tolerate these yellow-bellied threats to his family.

“Azazel’s applying pressure, hitting your weak spots,” Cas said, perhaps pointing out the obvious.

“So let’s hit him back, goddamn it,” John growled. He threw down the folder back onto his desk.

“How?” Cas asked. “We still don’t know who Azazel is.”

The other man thought hard, rubbing a hand over his mouth, and feeling the overgrown stubble. He didn’t remember the last time he’d shaved.

“How’s your progress on questioning Savage & Co.?” he asked.

“Stalled. Nick Savage has lawyered up,” said Cas.

His face slackened from frustration to realization. He didn’t seem happy about his next idea, but it looked like he had one.

“Though now that I think of it, we may be able to apply some pressure of our own,” he said.

John raised a brow and crossed his arms. “How’s that?”

“Dean’s girlfriend works there, if you remember,” Cas said. “Something happened this past weekend at her company Christmas party.”

John nodded, despite his frown. He was set to meet you in a week, but it looked like they might need to question you before then. What a pleasant first meeting that was going to be.

But if you had anything on Savage, on the company, or even better, if you were willing to wear a wire, that could be the break they needed to get some headway on this case. They could squeeze Savage for any information he might have on Azazel—like his real identity.

“Tell me,” John said.

You returned to work on Monday with steel in your veins (and a taser in your purse).

You had about an hour of peace in your office, catching up on your emails and calls. Then there was a knock on your door before it pushed open without your consent.

Damn it, should’ve locked it. Your lips pursed when Nick Savage came in.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you said firmly. Already you were opening a drawer in your desk, reaching into your purse.

“It’s my goddamn office,” Nick replied lazily. But he crossed his arms and stopped just behind the spare chair that sat in front of your desk. It gave you a good few feet of distance.

You stared back at the man with hidden satisfaction through your disdain. It seemed Dean’s threats got to him.

“Just thought I’d let you know that Josh’s been promoted to Senior Sales Manager,” Nick said. He checked his watch absently.

Your teeth clicked in irritation, but you let it pass. He was just trying to get a rise out of you, and you no longer gave a fuck about this company anyway. What you told Dean before was the truth: you were now here just to collect a paycheck, until you could find a new job.

“Good. He’s been working hard, kissing your ass,” you said with a fake smile. “Now if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work to do.”

Nick made the mistake of taking a half-step forward. Your hand subtly clenched on the weapon in your purse, but you tried your best to seem relaxed. In control of yourself. This was your office that you’d occupied for three years.

This was your space, and this man didn’t control you.

“Take one step forward, and I will quit today,” you threatened. And then you bluffed.

“I’ll call Mr. Greenway,” you said. “In fact, he offered me a job last month. Then I’ll make a few more calls, and I’ll take all of my accounts with me. I’ll kill your fucking sales team and leave Josh to continue sucking your lackluster tequila dick.”

Nick stared back at you with thinly veiled shock. You’d always been “no nonsense,” but you’d never spoken to him like that before. He smirked.

This was why he liked you. And hated you.

“All right,” Nick said. He didn’t come any closer, but he did rest his hands on the back of the chair. “How about I buy out your friend Greenway. His whole damn company. And then I’ll blacklist you with every other company that calls for a reference. Even the ones that don’t call.”

Your eyes widened incredulously. He had the gall to wink at you, boiling your blood.

“I’ll fucking sue you,” you said, hating the slight tremor in your voice.

Nick rolled his eyes. “This again? Please.”

You couldn’t help it. Your temper snapped, and you pushed away from your desk to stand up. You gripped the edge of it to steady yourself. You quirked a humorless smile.

“As it happens, I know a damn good lawyer,” you countered. “He puts murderers in jail every day. I doubt he’d struggle too much with a corporate asshole. And I’ll remind you, Dean’s father is a police officer. I’m sure he’d like nothing better than to lock you up after I report you for what you did. And I will.”

Nick scoffed at that, his eyes narrowing.

“If you take it there, I’ll have every resource at my disposal to make your life a living hell. I’ll drag this out for years. Until you’ve got nothing but your boyfriend’s charity to keep you from living in a fucking box.”

You were seething, trying to stay in control. He knew it too, and he smirked at you. He pushed away from the chair and started to leave.

But then, he tossed you a smug look over his shoulder.

“Just remember,” he said. “You could’ve just spread those legs for me.”

It took everything you had within you not to hurl a stainless steel stapler at the back of his retreating head.

“A double please, Ellen. Dry, lots of olives,” you requested.

After a ridiculously long day at work, you were now trying to let go of your frustrations at the Roadhouse, while you still had the money to drink. You rubbed through the ache in your temples.

“Long day, hun?” Ellen asked you. Her eyes were sympathetic as she made you the martini you ordered. You gave her an attempt at a smile.

“Long life,” you muttered.

“Hmm. Asshole boss?” she surmised.

You met her gaze with a note of suspicion. “Did Dean tell you…”

You knew he’d told his brother about what happened at the Christmas party. And you had a feeling he’d told Cas as well, to try and see what you could do from a law enforcement standpoint. The first step was filing a report. Now you knew, however, that you couldn’t. Not if you wanted your life to remain in one piece.

“Nothing, hun,” Ellen shook her head. “You’ve just got that look. I reckon every woman in the world has worn that face. Usually because of a man.”

You sighed and chuckled at the same time. It loosened some of the tightness in your shoulders.

“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.

“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”

You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.

“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.

“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”

Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?

You were soon distracted though, giving your boyfriend a smile to try and cover up how exhausted you were, in every sense of the word. He greeted you with a warm hand along your lower back. He dropped a kiss to your forehead.

“Waiting long?” he asked.

“No, just a few minutes,” you shook your head. You laid a hand on his thigh when he took a seat next to you at the bar. “How was your shift?”

This week he was on three 12-hour shifts instead of his usual 24-hour shifts, which meant you got more of him in the evening. 

“Fine. Just a couple of accidents to clear off the road, nothing major,” he replied. He ordered a beer from Ellen and gave Jo a smile. He was surprised to see mother and daughter working civilly together under one roof, after the scene he saw last week.

“How’s the studying going?” he asked Jo, once Ellen was out of earshot to serve further down the line. He turned to you and filled you in. “Jo’s gearin’ up to hit the Police Academy.”

“Oh wow, that’s great!” you remarked.

Jo glanced over at her mom, but then she smiled, looking back at you and Dean. She focused on him.

“The test is in a few weeks,” she said. “I think I’m ready, but I don’t know…”

“You’ll be fine,” Dean said, with easy conviction. “You’re stubborn enough to know it’s what you want. So I got no doubts about you.”

Jo’s smile was warm, with a hint of shy and gratefulness. You smiled at Jo encouragingly, but inside, you had a familiar unease churning inside your gut.

Dean then turned to you with expectant brows. His fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek, curling it behind your ear.

“And how was your day?” he asked. His tone was quieter, laced with double meaning.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Jo moving on to another waiting customer with a small sigh.

You met Dean’s gaze and you nodded. “It was fine.”

His brows rose a touch higher. “Very convincing. You took the taser with you, right?”

You sighed and had to smile a little. His concern warmed you, made you feel protected, even though you’d had to do that part yourself today. You soothed a hand over his chest, between the open panels of his plaid shirt.

“Yes, I did. I’m okay, baby. We’re at a standstill,” you said. And you reminded him, “I can handle myself, you know.”

Dean nodded, sighing through his nose. His hand rubbed up and down your back, whether to comfort you or himself, you didn’t know. Your fingers curled into his shirt, and you smiled up at him, just before you tugged him down for a kiss.

It was slow and sweet, until you became a bit more than sweet, grazing his bottom lip with your teeth. His hand came up to cup the back of your head as he accepted the warmth of your kiss.

You knew that you couldn’t tell Dean what happened this morning in your office. He’d likely go for the Halligan in his trunk and beat Nick Savage within an inch of his life.

While the idea appealed to you for several reasons, you didn’t want to be the reason Dean lost his badge, or ended up in jail.

So over a couple of drinks, you distracted him by having a healthy debate over what you two were going to have for dinner later: sushi or pizza.

You ultimately won with sushi. (Or maybe he let you win. Either way, you were getting salmon rolls tonight.)

Still, you had that uneasy feeling when you and Dean left the bar. You wondered how the hell it had taken you this long to notice the starry look of longing in Jo’s eyes.

You fell into step with Dean as you two headed for the sushi restaurant down the street. It was already dark out, but even on a Tuesday night, the streets and sidewalks of downtown were busy.

“Can I ask you something…potentially uncomfy?” you said.

Dean’s head turned to you, with a raised brow.

“Uncomfy?”

You let out a breath, and you could see it on the December chill in the air. Your hands were tucked into your pockets, and so were Dean’s in his.

“Did you and Jo ever have a thing?” you asked.

Dean blinked, but then his lips pressed together. “What makes you say that?”

You sent him a suspicious look. You’d known him long enough to know when he was hedging.

“Just please, answer the question,” you said.

He blew out a breath. After a moment, he nodded.

“Yeah, for a few weeks,” he admitted.

You sighed. That sure explained a hell of a lot. And really, with his track record, you couldn’t be surprised.

“You dated her, or you hooked up with her?” you clarified. Dean shot you a look.

“Dated,” he said, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

Your brows furrowed. “When?”

He’d told you that he’d been in one relationship before, briefly…

“About a few months before I met you,” he said at last. But he saw the incredulous, almost upset look on your face. “Obviously it didn’t work out.” 

“You couldn’t have told me that earlier?” you asked. Your hands slipped out of your pockets to gesture at him. “How did it end?”

The man sighed, looking up at the sky.

“Come on, Dean,” you prodded.

“All right,” he placated with a hand. “It didn’t end great, put it that way.”

You couldn’t help a frustrated huff. You crossed your arms and kept walking beside him down the street, albeit in silence.

Dean glanced at you in slight exasperation. He was with you now. Why did it matter to you so much?

“She still has feelings for you,” you said, though you still weren’t looking at him.

“How do you figure?” he asked. But if he was honest, even he knew the truth.

“Because I could see her eyeing you like a honey glazed ham,” you snipped. At that, he let out an incredulous chuckle. 

“Are you jealous?” he teased.

You stopped walking and looked up at him, frowning. “Do you want me to be?”

Dean stopped as well. He sobered, realizing you weren’t in the mood for jokes. You’d been through a lot recently, and he knew then that you didn’t need this kind of stress on top of everything else. He drew closer and gently grasped your arms.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. Though he thought to himself, I’ll talk to Jo if I have to.

Your lips pursed in frustration, but he soothed his hands up and down your arms. His touch plied you, along with his smile.

“Hey,” Dean said, dipping his chin so he could catch your eyes. “You should know how I feel about you by now.”

You sighed and nodded in agreement.

“Mhmm,” you replied.

He wasn’t satisfied.

“Okay, listen,” he said, squeezing your arms and earning your eyes on him. It took him a moment, letting out a breath, but he was honest.

“I love you," he reminded. "And if that damn elevator hadn’t broke down on you, I’d still be missing something in my life.”

…Damn it, you thought, even as a blushing smile grew across your face. Dean Winchester was too smooth for his own good.

But you also saw the sincerity in his eyes. You couldn’t help but be warmed by his words, down to your toes.

“There she is. All right,” he said with a grin. He nodded in satisfaction and gathered you into his arms. “My soft girl again.” 

Your smile deepened, but you still pinched his side, making him flinch and laugh. You held him back and looked up at his handsome face. He still looked amused and his eyes were warm. You leaned up on your toes for a kiss that lingered on wind-chilled lips.

“I love you,” you whispered back, against his lips.

His smile against yours was your answer.

Two hours and two salmon rolls later, Dean drove you home. You had taken an Uber to the Roadhouse, which reminded him that he needed to make another trip to Singer Salvage.

He’d been scoping out potential cars to fix up for you. He’d even recruited Bobby’s help to find something good, something with strong bones. Dean could do the rest.

Even after he watched you get inside your house safely, he let out a subtle breath before he peeled away. He wished you were coming home with him tonight. More often, he was feeling your absence when you weren’t in his bed. But it also reassured him, that he knew you were safe with him and Sam at their apartment.

He later found his brother eating leftover chicken parmesan at the kitchen counter.

“Why’re you eating standing up?” Dean asked, tossing his keys onto the counter. He reached into the fridge for a beer. “You look like Big Bird if he wore a suit.”

Sam sent him a dry look. “I don’t know. Force of habit.”

He barely had time in his day for an uninterrupted coffee, let alone a meal. When Dean wasn’t here, Sam fell back onto his work habits. He took his plate and actually went to the table.

“You eat already?” he asked. Dean nodded and said he’d eaten with you.

“Oh yeah? How’s she doing?” Sam asked.

Dean sighed and sank down heavily onto the chair opposite his brother. He rubbed at his forehead.

“She’s okay, considering,” he replied. But he knew you hadn’t told him the whole story about how your day went at work. Whether you were trying to spare him, or protect him, or yourself, it still drove him up the wall. Knowing Nick Savage was still your boss, and he was there, an ever-present threat just a few floors above you in that building…

It made Dean’s skin crawl. It had his teeth grinding and coiled his spine tight with repressed rage. And worry.

He met his brother’s eyes. Sam had been watching him, hiding his wariness.

“What can we do about him?” Dean asked. He knew he didn’t have to explain who he was talking about.

Sam started to shake his head, but Dean wouldn’t have it.

“I mean it, Sam. Because I almost…” His hand and forearm clenched and unclenched on the table. He could almost feel the way his arm had pressed into Nick’s throat, slowly but surely crushing his trachea. Just a couple of minutes more, and Dean could’ve done it. In that moment, he saw it so clearly.

It was the first time he’d ever wanted to take a man’s life.

“I know,” Sam said. His brows furrowed in sympathy. “But you did the right thing.”

Dean’s lips pursed as his hand once again fisted on the table.

“If I hadn’t been there,” he said. “If I had been just a few minutes off…”

These were the what ifs that kept plaguing his mind, ever since the party. Sometimes, it added to the catalogue of waking nightmares that wouldn’t let him sleep.

“And now she’s gotta go back there, every day, where that animal is just waiting for an opportunity,” Dean gritted out. Then his fist dropped more heavily onto the table, rattling Sam’s silverware.

Sam held the table steady and looked at his brother, calm but firm.

“You can’t touch Savage,” he said. “Don’t even go near him. Whatever you do, he’ll use it against you, and potentially against her. Unfortunately, she’s got the best plan right now.”

Dean looked up at him with angry eyes.

“Wait him out,” Sam said, “until he makes a mistake he can’t easily cover up. In the meantime, she’ll find a new job and get the hell out of there.”

Dean forced a sharp breath through his nose. He leaned back in his chair and tapped his fist more calmly on the table.

“I don’t have to like it,” he said.

Sam nodded in agreement. “No, you don’t.”

The fire was wild. It was eating up the four-story apartment building in a full blaze. The Truck 79 team was geared up outside of it, with Chief Singer already calling out instructions along with Dean.

Benny and the Rescue Squad were already on the roof, rappelling down to get the ones trapped on the top floors out through the windows. Dean was on the ground. He had Gordon, Jack, and a few others behind him. Meg and Chuck were on standby, waiting for the firefighters to pull out any residents still trapped inside.

Dean had to wonder if he was walking into another arson, like the Richardson fire. Against his will, he thought of that day. He thought about everything his father had told him about that arson, about Azazel and his mom’s death. He thought about you, working for a man who was potentially tied to Azazel.

“Winchester,” Gordon tapped him on the arm. “You good?”

Dean glanced over at him, then nodded.

“Yeah. Let’s rock and roll.”

When Dean was at work, he couldn’t let the outside world into his mind. All he could let himself focus on was the scene ahead after he put his mask on.

Inside the first floor of the building was like entering a living furnace. It was hot as shit, and layers of smoke choked the room. The mask was the only reason Dean could see, let alone breathe.

He turned to Jack. “All right, take it room by room. Stay close. We don’t got a lot of time.”

Jack nodded his agreement, and Dean split his team. A few of the others took the first floor on his orders. Dean, Gordon, and Jack would take the old stairs to clear the second floor.

Fuck. This whole place is just wood and plaster, Dean thought, shaking his head. These old buildings were all the same. Easy to build, easy to knock down. And usually they weren’t up to code, often thanks to cheap property owners.

He got apartment 201 open with his Halligan. The shoebox studio was smokey as all hell, but it was clear of any tenants. Gordon moved on ahead quickly, but Dean’s brows furrowed as he listened to the unsteady creaking of the floorboards. He moved more carefully forward.

Until he felt the warmth under his boots, saw the orange glow underneath a thin patch of flooring.    

“Walker, wait!” Dean called, at the same time he held Jack back.

He reached out, just as the wood floor splintered and broke underneath Gordon. His eyes flashed wide just before he fell.

Dean dove for him. His Halligan clattered away, but he managed to grab onto the man’s sleeve before he disappeared. Gordon grabbed onto Dean’s arm and nearly pulled him down too. Luckily, he managed to grab onto the splintered edge with his other glove-covered hand. He gritted his teeth at the strain of the other man hanging off his shoulder, but he didn’t dare let go.

Jack grabbed Dean’s belt to keep him from sliding further down. It let him grab onto Gordon with both hands. The men panted for breath; Dean had a better vantage point to see that the middle of the ground floor below was engulfed in flames. The glow of it flared in the corner of Gordon’s eyes. He could feel the heat making both of them sweat.

The wood flooring under Dean creaked ominously, but before anyone could move, it broke further. He almost lost his grip on Gordon as his torso hung over the edge. He managed to get a new stronghold under the other man’s arm, and Jack did his best to keep Dean from falling by pinning his legs down. Jack was strong, but he was still a smaller man than Dean.  

“Jack, call for backup!” Dean gritted out. Jack nodded behind him and radioed in for help.

Gordon stared up at Dean with wide, but resigned eyes. “The floor’s gonna cave before you can pull me up.”

Dean stared down at him, even as lines of sweat poured down his forehead from within his mask. They both knew that if that happened, Dean would be pulled along for the ride down, maybe even Jack too. Dean gave a sharp shake of his head.

“Just hold on. Backup’s comin’,” he said. All his strength was going into keeping a firm grip on the man’s arm and jacket. He called to Jack over his shoulder. “Can you get next to me and grab him?”

To his credit, Jack tried. But the jagged edges of the floor around Dean were unsteady, creaking and groaning under Jack’s added weight, a bit too much.

“Stop, stop!” Dean shouted, halting Jack’s movements.

Gordon licked his dry lips and blinked sweat out of his eyes. “This might be the part where you let go, Winchester.”

Dean took exactly a beat to process his shock. Then he glared down at the man.

“Shut the hell up, Walker. You don’t let go, you hear me?” he barked. “Jack, grab the back of my jacket and my belt.”

Jack followed the order, and a combination of him pulling Dean up and Dean straining every muscle he had to heft up Gordon slowly, painfully, brought them back up and over the ledge.

Jack had an easier time then of helping Dean pull Gordon the rest of the way out of the hole.

And the rest of their Truck crew came to help them onto their feet, before the fire consumed the rest of the second floor.

Once Dean was out of the building, he took off his mask and breathed in cooler air on his face. He made a beeline for the fire truck. In the back was a cooler, and grabbed a bottle of water to dump over his overheated head and face while he caught his breath. Gordon and Jack were following suit, and the men stared and one another. All of their faces said the same thing.

We made it. We’re alive. That was almost fucked.

Gordon’s gaze met Dean’s, sobering further. For a moment, he looked like he was searching for words.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asked eventually.

Dean nodded, rotating his right arm. He was going to feel that bitch tomorrow.

“Fine,” he said. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Gordon nodded. Another hesitation, followed by an honest gaze. “Thanks, Lieutenant.”

Dean’s face broke into a smile, wry but also genuine. “Yeah, thank me by layin’ off the burgers.”

He swatted the other man’s stomach and went for three more waters. He handed two of them to Jack and Gordon. One was smiling, while the other just smirked and shook his head.

“You callin’ me hefty?” Gordon remarked. “I’m averaging 6% body fat, man.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, right. What’re you, the Rock? That’s why you almost sunk.”

He dropped his fist into the air and made an exploding sound. Jack was wide-eyed, but Gordon just chuckled. They started making their way to the front of the truck to start packing up their gear. The Truck and Rescue teams had done what they could, and all the residents that made it out of the building were being seen to by the paramedics.

“I’d rather be weighed down by muscle than all them Little Debbie’s you’ve been putting away at the station,” Gordon shot back. “Cheap cake is not your friend.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “All right, that’s just uncalled for.”

“Dean,” Chief Singer called, beckoning him over with a hand. His free hand wore a glove as he held something steaming.

Dean nodded at his men and joined Bobby outside his department-issued SUV. Dean’s gaze focused on the bottle-shaped object in Bobby’s hand. There was a small digital box attached to the front, with wires wrapped around. The entire device was now blackened, but the smell of chemicals was unmistakable.

“Molotov cocktail?” Dean quipped, but his face was as grave as Bobby’s. The Chief nodded.

“Lafitte pulled this out of the fourth floor,” he said. “Looks like the same kind of incendiary device Arson found at the Richardson fire.” 

That night, you made dinner for Dean at your house. He was forced to explain what happened at the apartment building, and why he had his arm pinned to his side like a chicken wing. You made him sit down and relax, all while you tried to hide your worry and relief that he was mostly all right.

Later in the living room, you sat on your knees beside him on the couch and lifted the bag of ice from his shoulder. You peered at it in concern, gently rubbing your hand over the joint and surrounding muscle. Dean sighed through his nose as your gentle touch was both soothing and painful.

“Are you sure you should do another shift tomorrow?” you asked, replacing the ice. He shot you a glance.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Right,” you said dryly. “That’s why you can barely move this arm.”

Dean rolled his eyes and made his point by raising his right arm, slowly, but easily back down.

“I’ll be up and running by tomorrow. Just need a good night’s sleep.”

“Dean, are you sure? You seem to be in a lot of pain,” you asked.

He tried to hold in his annoyance. “I think I’d know if I’m fine.”

“You forget, I know all too well what downplaying looks like,” you countered, giving him a chiding look. Dean didn’t appreciate it. He didn’t need you to mother him.

“This is my job, all right,” he said.

You gave him a steady look. Your hand moved up his shoulder to rest along the back of his neck. Your fingers slipped into his hair.

“I know that. But I’m allowed to worry,” you said. Your brows furrowed. “Please don’t get upset at me for that.”

Dean let out a breath. He relaxed against the couch and met your gaze. He knew he had no right to ask you not to worry about him.

“Yeah, okay,” he said.

To you, he still seemed a bit annoyed. You nodded and continued to gently sift your fingers through his hair. You had to wonder if his resentment was coming from a different place.

“Are you still mad at me for going back to work?” you tested.

Dean breathed out deeper this time, but he didn’t answer.

Bingo, you thought with a frown.

“Dean—”

“All I want is for you to be safe,” he said. His voice was harder as his face tightened up. His hand gestured in frustration. “This whole thing…that fucking douchebag…it’s killing me. Fucking killing me. And you know that.”

Your eyes softened, and you unconsciously bit your lip.

“Ditto,” you tried to joke. It landed flat, because your boyfriend was deadly serious.

He looked away from you with pursed lips and a frustrated shake of his head. You sidled closer to him and tried to soothe, with a hand on his chest.

“Look, I’m trying to find a new job, but it takes time,” you said.

“You could quit. You could quit right now,” Dean replied hotly.

You sighed; you couldn’t believe you had to remind him about this. “I can’t, Dean. I have bills to pay, just like you do. You think I like this situation any more than you? I’m the one who’s had to deal with this for months!” 

“I know that!” Dean snapped back. “Or should I say, now I do.”

He pulled away from your touch and pushed off the couch, onto his feet. You looked up with your mouth agape as he left the room. You got up and followed after him.

“You’re leaving?” you asked in shock. You watched him grab his keys and his wallet from the kitchen counter.

“I’ve got a long shift tomorrow and I gotta sleep,” Dean said, rather gruffly.

You followed him all the way to the door, where you grabbed onto his wrist. He stopped in the doorway, glancing back at you over his shoulder.

“Dean, please,” you implored. “Don’t go like this.”

After a beat, he seemed to soften. Just enough to lean over and press a brief kiss to the side of your head.

“I gotta go.”

He left you in the doorway with tears swimming in your eyes, and he pretended not to notice them.

When Dean woke up the next morning, his shoulder still ached, and he still felt guilty. He rubbed the offending join and tried to slowly roll the stiffness out of his arm. Fuck.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes next. They blearily took in the digital numbers on his alarm clock: 5:00 a.m.

He slid out of bed and got ready for work. He definitely wanted to check in with Arson about the device that likely started that fire, and he knew his dad would need to be brought in on it. It would give Dean a reason to press John for an update on his investigation.

By 6:00, he was finishing his coffee, about ready to head over to the station. He could hear the pipes running, meaning Sam was in the shower.

Dean was startled only slightly by his phone vibrating in his pocket. His brows furrowed, but he fished it out and found your name crossing the screen, along with a smiling picture of you. He sighed.

Part of him hesitated. If you were calling just to try and convince him to call out of work, he was going to get worked up again. And he’d rather not have anything disturb his first cup of coffee of the day.

Still, he answered. “Hey.”

“Dean, did you come into the house last night?” you asked.

He didn’t like the wary, almost scared tone of your voice.

“No.” His brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Look at the text I just sent you.”

He put you on speaker so he could check his messages. Sure enough, he found a picture from you. It was of a glass bottle-shaped object on your nightstand. There was a black box attached, but its digital screen was blank. Dean’s breath caught in his lungs as his eyes widened. His heart dropped into his stomach.

“Dean, what is this thing?” you asked. Your voice was shakier, more worried. “It looks like a bomb. And it smells awful, like chemicals.”

“Don’t touch it,” he said quickly. “Get out of the house…better yet, wait for me at your neighbor’s place. I’m coming over right now.”

And I’m calling Dad.

Dean tried his best to calm you while the police and the Arson Department swept your entire house for devices, fingerprints, and any other evidence on who broke in.

You had a hand over your mouth by the front door as you watched them turn over cushions, move tables and shelves, ruck through cabinets. Your entire life turned inside out.

Dean’s hand rubbed up and down your back. You eventually had to look away and sigh. You pressed closer to his side, and he wrapped his good arm around your shoulders.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said quietly, and kissed the top of your head. Inside, he was furious. Mostly at himself.

If anything had happened to you last night, after he left…he would’ve never forgiven himself.

So it was a welcome distraction when John and Cas’s police car finally pulled into the driveway. Dean led you outside, away from the chaos happening in your house.

“Hey, Dad,” he said, with a nod at Cas. Both men nodded back.

“Son,” John greeted, His brown eyes turned to you next. He offered you a hand. “Good to finally meet you, despite the circumstances.”

You blinked up at him and curled a stray strand of hair behind your ear, a bit nervously.

“Oh, it’s…it’s great to meet you, Mr. Winchester,” you said, sticking out your hand and shaking his.

A smile flickered across Dean’s lips. He realized then that this was the first time you were meeting his father. You were adorably nervous.

A reserved smile tugged at his father’s lips as well.

“John’s just fine.”

You smiled back, with a bit of a blush tinging your cheeks.

“Now, can you tell me what happened here?” John asked you, not unkindly.

Dean’s good humor faded away as he explained about the device left on your nightstand. He filled them in about the fire he’d responded to yesterday as well.

“What the hell is happening, Dad?” he demanded to know.

John let out a breath and nodded, swiping a hand through his dark hair.

“It’s another one of Azazel’s signatures,” he said, lowering his voice so only the four of them could hear. “It’s a message.”

“To who?” Dean asked.

“To me,” John said. “Warning me to back off the case…there’ve been other threats. I’ve finally got a police detail on Sam, and I just got approval for you. I’ll add her to the list.”

John glanced at you. Your eyes widened in confusion as you tried to hold in your fear.

“Who the hell is Azazel?” You turned to Dean. “Is this…does this have something to do with your mom’s killer?”

John’s brows shot up at his son. “You told her?”

“You’re over here talking about him too,” Dean retorted. He gathered you closer and met his father with steely eyes, to mask how his gut was churning with worry.

“You need to get this guy,” Dean said, almost through gritted teeth. “Get him now.”

John agreed with a nod.

Once again, you covered a trembling hand over your mouth. Dean squeezed your side a bit to earn your attention.

“I want you to come stay with me,” he said. His tone was boding no argument, not that you would. You nodded and fairly melted against him. Your head rested against his chest.

“Dean, this is insane,” you whispered.

He nodded and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I know. I’m sorry…I’m so fucking sorry about this.”

You looked up at him, your brows furrowing. “It’s not your fault.”

Dean met your gaze, but he couldn’t quite believe you. He was the one who kept pushing his dad for answers, to let him in on this. This was his family’s bullshit, not yours. You didn’t deserve to get dragged into it too.

The spell between you two was broken by Cas, awkwardly clearing his throat.

“We do need to ask you some questions,” he said. “About Nick Savage.”

You frowned. You peeled yourself away from Dean enough to face the detectives.

“What does he have to do with this?” you asked.

“His company is linked to a money laundering scheme, which ultimately leads back to Azazel,” Cas explained. “But we’re having trouble getting through his wall of lawyers.”

You scoffed. “Not surprising.”

However, it did worry you that Nick was possibly doing business with a criminal. Not that that should surprise you either. 

“What do you want to know?” you asked.

“Well, first of all, would you be willing to file a police report,” Cas said, more gently, “regarding your assault at his home.”

Your eyes widened. Your mouth fell open slightly before you looked over at Dean. His face tightened, along with his hand on the curve of your waist.

“Why do you need me to do that?” you asked Cas.

“It’ll give us the leverage we need to dig deeper into his business,” John said. “Knock loose any shady dealings. We could get him to cough up what he knows about Azazel.”

You wanted to help, but at the same time, you were reluctant to mire yourself deeper in this. Dean saw your reservations, and he could guess why.

“Won’t that just paint a bigger target on her back?” he asked.

“We’re gonna protect her,” John promised. His eyes went from Dean, back to you. “But we need your help. This could be the break we need to get to Azazel. To find out who this bastard is.”

John could see your indecision. “All you need to do is fill out the report. Maybe get up in court to testify.”

You tightened up at that. “Testify?”

“If it gets that far,” John nodded.

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head. “That man can make my life hell without a serial killer’s help.”

You looked to Dean for support.

In the beginning, he had all but begged you to do what his father and Cas were asking. But now, this was just too much. He pressed you more securely to his side.

“Dean?” his father prodded.

“You heard her,” Dean said. “It’s her choice.”

You sighed and held onto the back of his shirt gratefully. The detectives shared a look, with John’s brows furrowing. He regarded you with a gruff, slightly strained look.

“Listen, don’t you want Savage in a cold hard cell?” he asked. “You could put him there.”

“Dad, she said no. Lay off,” Dean’s tone sharpened. Unfortunately, he knew how stubborn the man could be.

“Dean, I’m trying to nail this guy, but I’m missing pieces,” John said. “Right now, I can’t do it without her.”

“Well, figure it out,” Dean snapped.

John frowned in near disbelief. "Excuse me?"

“Look, I know where your priorities are, but mine is making sure she’s safe," said Dean. "If you can’t handle that, then we’ve got a problem!”

The strength of his retort took everyone by surprise, but no one more so than John. He hid it well behind a deepening frown.

He glanced between you and his son. You were looking up at Dean with unshed tears in your red-rimmed eyes, grateful, and holding on tight to his shirt. He still held you to him. His entire frame was tight and angry.

And John knew that he would react the same way, if he were Dean. He also knew then that he was pushing too hard.

So he sighed, and pulled out a card from his wallet. He handed it to you.

“I’m sure you’ve got Cas’s number already, but here’s mine,” said John. “Call me if you change your mind.”

“I’m sorry for invading,” you told Sam that night. He was helping you and Dean bring in your suitcases. You were pretty much moving into their apartment, indefinitely.

“You’re not,” Sam said, shaking his head. “We’re happy to have you here.”

You gave him a tired, thankful smile. “I appreciate that, thanks.”

“We’ll get to have an in-house chef,” Dean chimed in, earning more amused look from you.

“Need I remind you that I’m not an actual chef?” you said. You set down your smaller suitcase, full of shoes and toiletries, to grasp the front of his shirt. You leaned up on your toes and met him with a kiss. It was sweet, but it was also tender. His arms came around your lower back and pulled you flush against him.

He parted from you gently, afterwards pressing his forehead against yours. He let out a brief sigh through his nose.

“I’m sorry, about how I left last night,” he said.

You shook your head, despite the tears that wanted to burn in your eyes. You wanted to tell him, It’s fine. I’m fine.

But you couldn’t lie to him.

“You came back when I needed you,” you said instead. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”

You felt his fingers tangle in your hair, his hand resting along the back of your neck. It was familiar, and soothing.

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted you to move in,” he admitted. You chuckled wryly.

“Really,” he said. “…I was thinking of asking you. But not ‘til, you know, down the line.”

You softened at that. You raised up on your toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Then you circled your arms around his neck and hugged him close. He held you back just as tightly.

“Thank you for always being there for me,” you said. He couldn’t see your smile, but somehow, he knew it was there. But he could also hear you sniffle, and feel your body tremble with tears.

“You’re safe here,” Dean said softer into your ear. “Nothing’s getting to you, all right?”

 You nodded, pressing your face into his neck. He continued to say and do whatever he felt he had to in order to reassure you that night, and make you feel safe.

All the while, he was trying to reassure himself.

AN: *burrr* That tension, huh? What did you think of her finally finding out about Jo's lingering feelings, plus a bit of Dean's resentment, him and Gordon coming to an understanding, and the reader meeting John for the first time! 😮‍💨😮‍💨

Good news though. Next time, we'll take a huge break from all this drama and have a nice fluffy Christmas special. (Plus a healthy dose of spice. ❤️‍🔥)

Next Time:

You hadn’t undressed yet from your jeans and sweater, but you crawled across the bed to come up behind him and drop a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“How’s your slugging arm?” you asked.

Dean quirked a smile at you over his shoulder. “Just fine.”

“Dean,” you said. Your tone was gentle, but warning. No downplaying.

You pressed your lips against the side of his head and soothed your hand along his shoulder and down his arm. Still, he was resistant.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he said.

You hummed. “Okay. I guess you don’t need a massage then.”

He paused. His head tilted just so, once again turning to you over his shoulder. You spied the edge of his piqued interest, his grin.

“Well, if you’re offering…”

Keep Reading: PART 15

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

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@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

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[bots-and-cons]

Can I request scenerio Arcee with a fem human S/O that was experimented on as a prototype of how Silas would be infused with the corpse of breakdown but the S/O was infused with the corpse of Airachnid. How would Arcee feel knowing that her S/O was now going to spend the rest of her life in the body of her worst enemy to survive?

A/N: This is going to be all angst babyyyyy. I kinda wanna do a part two where Airachnid’s personality starts to affect the reader or something, more angst in any case

Warnings: Body horror?

Arcee hadn’t heard from you for months, and now Airachnid was back. Could the day get any worse? Arcee was feeling frustrated about you seemingly disappearing from the face of the earth, and angry about Airachnid resurfacing. Little did she know those two things were very much connected.

When you came to, you felt incredibly out of it. It was like your brain wasn’t connected to your body at all. You weren’t sure if you were even moving your arm when you tried to bring your hand to touch your face. After a moment of trying, you came to the conclusion it was in fact not moving. It felt like the distance between your brain and the hand you wanted to move was too far to reach.

“What the hell?” you muttered.

The voice that came out didn’t sound like your own. It was a garbled mess and sounded somewhat glitchy, which didn’t make any sense.

“I see you’re awake” an unfamiliar voice said. “Your voice and motor skills will come back to you… hopefully”

While you couldn’t really move, you could still feel that you were restrained. You finally tried to open your eyes, and it was like a TV screen turning on. You couldn’t see clearly right away, but you could tell you were laying on the floor or a table of some sort. There was a lamp above you, slowly swaying back and forth. You turned your head and saw a man standing next to you, he looked like he was oddly small. What the hell was going on?”

“Sir, they’re awake” the man said to someone else in the room, and you heard someone walking towards you.

“Would you look at that, the experiment seems to be a success” he said.

You recognized his voice, it was that M.E.C.H freak Silas.

“What did you do to me?” you asked.

Your voice was still pretty garbled, but better than moments before, so he could make out what you were saying.

“See for yourself” 

The table you were on, started to move into an upright position. You could see a wall of screens in front of you, there were some sorts of schematics displayed on them. Your vision finally focused properly, and you could see what was on the screens.

You felt like you were going to pass out, but something wouldn’t let you. It was like you got to the edge, but something was preventing you from falling into the void. You started to struggle, and some sort of machine started to beep rapidly. You had to get away from them, you had to get back to the autobots, surely they could help you. How long had you been gone? Those sick bastards hadn’t done this in days, it was probably more like weeks, even months.

By some miracle, you managed to get out of the restraints, but you fell down immediately, your legs wouldn’t hold you. Were they even your legs? Or were they hers? You could hear the crackling of those big taser-like devices the M.E.C.H members used.

"You shouldn’t strain yourself, your body is still adjusting" Silas said, standing next to you.

You could barely hold yourself up with your arms, so escape didn’t seem likely. However, staying there wasn’t an option either, who knows what kind of experiments they had planned for you. You probably only had one chance, if you managed to catch these bastards by surprise and your body would cooperate, you might have a chance to get away.

Suddenly there was a commotion outside.

“The autobots are here, we need to retreat!” someone yelled.

Arcee had come for you, you knew she wouldn’t abandon you. Now all you had to do was make sure Silas and his henchmen couldn’t take you with them. You swiped them away with your hand as quickly as you could, while the commotion outside had caught them by surprise.

“I’m in here” you tried to yell.

Your voice didn’t sound like your own at all. You could speak more clearly now, but the autobots wouldn’t be able to tell who you were by your voice. Would they be able to tell at all? You were in Airachnid’s body now. You had somehow been put together like some sort of Frankenstein’s monster. Would Arcee even know it was you? Would she believe you if you told her, or would she just think it was another one of Airachnid’s tricks? Would you even get a chance to explain?

The people who’d done this to you were all leaving through the door behind you, but you were too weak to stop any of them. You were half laying on the ground, barely able to hold your upper body in an upright position.

When Arcee busted into the warehouse, she was ready to put an end to the life of that spidery con. So when she found her nemesis, and the first word out of her mouth was “Cee!” she was understandably confused.

“Don’t call me that” Arcee hissed at the con in front of her.

“I don’t know what they did to me, but I’m not Airachnid. Cee please, it’s me (Name)”

“Shut your mouth decepticon. You don’t get to say their name, and for the last time, stop calling me that” Arcee said as she pointed her blaster straight at your chest.

“Please, I’m begging you. Remember the first time you told me you loved me? We were on top of the base that one chilly night, looking at the stars and I tripped and almost fell off. You grabbed me and stopped me from falling. You saved my life that time. Airachnid wouldn’t know something like that”

Arcee’s blaster started to shudder, and she lowered it slowly. She didn’t understand what was going on. Whoever it was in front of him, they didn’t seem like Airachnid. They didn’t give off the malice and bloodlust that was always present when she was around. It couldn’t be you either, right?

You were almost sure you had convinced her of your identity, and you could leave the strength leaving your body. You collapsed, and the last thing you saw before it all went dark, was Arcee’s confused face.

Arcee decided it would be best to have Ratchet take a look at you at the warehouse rather than bringing you to the base, in case this was some sort of scam. Ratchet scanned you and immediately told everyone else to leave, he needed to talk to Arcee alone. He had an odd look on his face, but mainly it came off as disgust.

“It is Airachnid, isn’t it?” Arcee asked gravely.

“Not exactly” Ratchet said, not looking at Arcee.

“It is Airachnid’s body, yes, but she appears to be dead. (Name) seems to be in control of this… amalgamation”

“Ratchet, could you explain what’s going on? What do you mean by amalgamation?” Arcee asked, starting to sound impatient.

Ratchet was a medic, he had seen all kinds of horrific things, but this might just be the worst. He didn’t really have a choice. He had to open up the chest panels of this thing now in front of him. He had to make sure that whatever the situation was, you would remain alive, if it could be called living. It might have been a mercy to let you drift away.

If cybertronians could throw up, Arcee was sure this was the situation where it would’ve happened. When Ratchet popped open the chest panels, Arcee staggered back a few steps. Almost falling down from the shock. You were in there, a part of you was at least. She felt sick.

“What…?” Arcee whispered.

“I don’t fully understand what’s going on, but it seems they’ve somehow fused (Name)’s consciousness with Airachnid’s body by connecting their brain with-”

“Stop, I don’t want to know!” Arcee exclaimed.

What kind of person could do this? What kind of monster did one have to be to do something like this to another person? Arcee didn’t really care much for the fact that Airachnid was dead, but even she didn’t deserve this. 

“Are they alive?” Arcee asked coldly.

“You could say that. In any case, we must take them back to the base, so I can assess the situation properly”

She couldn’t even bring herself to help carry you through the ground bridge. Arcee couldn’t touch you, she could barely even look at you. How could she move past this? Would she even be able to? Just thinking about touching you while you were like that made a shiver go down her spine. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, but was this really a better option? Was it really better to doom you to such a horrible existence? You would be forced to live in a foreign body. You weren’t human anymore, but you weren’t a cybertronian either, you never would be. Like Ratchet said, you were an amalgamation, a nightmarish one at that. Arcee didn’t know what to think. She didn’t know what to do. She just felt sick. No matter how much she loved you, could she live with how you were now? Would death be a mercy for you?

[insomniasleeps]

GCS Shorts 2

Deleted scenes of my timkon au (they would have made the cut- well they still might this is just brainrot bc I'm tired of chapters that need logic)

Kon: I kind of like "Kon-El" ngl . Nice name he gave me, it could go as a nickname for Conner too.

Lex: I came up with Conner first. *Rolls eyes*

Lex: Superman is very unoriginal.

Kon: But Mercy told me you used a name generator-

~

Jason: Ok so I know you don't like me that much

Conner: Yeah.

Jason: It was my bad, that kryptonite bullet probably hurt-

Kon: HUh- no I'm not mad at you for shooting me

Jason: What.

Kon: I'm mad bc you got dirt stains on my couch when you broke in :(

~

Tim: *scowls* I don't like you. at all.

Also Tim: *Obsessively checks Kon's entire year's worth of digital footprint* *hides evidence of Kon not being a regular person* *defends Stray from insults on the internet* *hacks into Gotham U's cameras bc he's 'just checking in'* *proceeds to triple seal the still-existing records of Kon's past and doesn't even tell Kon he knows about the pre-Elle Hades behavior*

Kon: I like you. you're nice. *thinks Tim is (pretty) neat*

Tim: *dies of embarrassment bc why tf did he say that TIM IS BI PANICKING*

Jason: fucking gay losers *goes to read his romance mystery novel that has doomed gays*

~ Jason and Tim arguing

Jason: Fuck you, you little fuck-

Tim: That's grammatically incorrect. For all the classical literature you read you sure-

Cass: *Watching them with a raised brow as she stretches for ballet because their body language says they're about to fight*

Cass: Jason. Put the gun away. *Frowns disapprovingly- they can throw hands outside of her practice room*

Jason: *Groans and puts it away, turning to leave*

Cass: Tim. I saw your staff. Turn the taser off.

Tim: *sighs but repockets it and goes back to doing WE work on his laptop*

~

Damian: I hate Drake.

Dick: but you guys get ice cream together after ditching us at Galas all the time?

Damian: We are... on amicable terms despite my distaste towards him.

Damian: He also can hold a decent conversation regarding the behaviors of cats *in Damian terms this means talking about cute cat shenanigans*

Damian: He is also good with Cats. Alfred is a stellar example.

Dick: Oh my god my little brothers are adorable *cries*

*somewhere else*

Tim: *suffering as he coughs- he patted an alley cat that Damian found and his spleenless ass got sick*

Kon: *frowns* Are you ok???

Tim: Yeah, but I might need to be hospitalized

Kon: What?! why

Tim: I don't have a spleen

Kon: *immediately understands bc of the info programmed into him* you don't have an immune system!? TIM THIS IS GOTHAM

Tim: *passes out randomly *

~ Thug 1: ??? why is it so bright rn it's cloudy

Thug 2: *turns around* FUCK ITS THE SIGNAL- AND THE STRAY

Duke: You again *Immediately makes so much light it's as blinding as being close to the sun*

Thug 2: *screaming in pain due to the permanent damage being done to his retinas*

Duke: *realizes someone else is on the job with him and panics to check on his partner (usually works w bats so he's concerned about using his powers despite Kon being a meta)* STRAY ARE YOU OKAY

Kon: *feeling refreshed from the false sunlight* yeah *thumbs up* I feel great wow

Duke: I keep forgetting you're the spawn of Superman, dude *relieved*

Thug 1&2: *blinded but able to hear* HES WHAT-

*Gotham thugs are never the same. What the fuck do you mean the former alley-scruffer-turned-arkham-breakout-fighter- slash-bat-associate is the SON of SUPERMAN the REALLY STRONG ALIEN HERO. They're supposed to fight him??? He can literally turn them into squash on the concrete that he used to wrap around them because OF COURSE if he wasnt already insane this motherfucker has telekinesis*

*But when one of them voices that he interrupts and goes "Well, actually, it's called tactile telekinesis where you-" he proceeds to explain all the things he could do with it, and their horror is growing because what does he mean by "peel your skin off and have it slide right back"- what the fuck- WHY THE FUCK HASNT BATMAN KICKED HIM OUT HES KILLING PEOPLE BY GIVING THEM HEART ATTACKS FROM RISING BLOOD PRESSURE.*

~

*mob boss using a MACHINE GUN on the bats (Robin and Red Robin let's say) while they're knocked out from the gas that spread*

mob boss: why the fuck are they bulletproof what the fuck

*mud monster appearing out of nowhere and covering the bats to take them away while not even dirtying them*

mob boss: *sees it as a demonic creature taking away its masters as he gets knocked on his ass by the concrete and then it wraps around to hold him in place until Batman comes*

mob boss: fucking Gotham is out to get me THE CITY AND THE PEOPLE I JUST GOT BEAT BY CONCRETE

*Batman comes, sees Stray sitting in a corner trying to do his calculus homework on his cellphone*

mob boss: BATMAN- WHOS CHILD WAS SACRIFICED TO SUMMON YOUR FAMILY YOU DEMONS- *gets knocked out by air (Kon)*

Batman: *dry and disappointed but slightly amused* you could have also stopped Red Robin and Robin from inhaling the gas.

Kon: *shrugging as he's working on hw* I was told to stay out because they needed to see who could brave the gas the longest. They were both knocked out at the same time.

[luveline]

Hi Jade! Had an idea for a Sirius fic (or poly if that’s something you feel like writing for!) where r loves dogs and animals but gets kinda scared when meeting them (especially large ones) in real life. So Sirius is all sweet with her as padfoot as a way to help her get over her fear. Love you!!! You’re truly such an amazing writer ❤️❤️

thank you, I love you ♡ and thank u for ur request!! —a stray dog befriends you on the way to sirius' flat. fem!reader, 1.3k

You're walking from the costcutters to Sirius' block of flats when you feel as though you're being followed. You look around in a sweep, but can't spot anybody besides a handful of children in the park across the street. 

Feeling weary, you pick up your pace and slide your phone from your pocket. I'm five mins from ur flat, you text. If anything happens, he'll know you were here. 

Childish giggles ride the breeze. You look back over your shoulders to see why, not for any particular reason beyond curiosity, only to see their short fingers pointing and waving at a scruffy black dog trotting behind you. 

You flinch on impulse. He's not an especially scary dog, but his appearance is a surprise. He has no collar, no leash. 

You stop walking, worried he might come closer. You love animals in theory, but you're anxiously disposed. Things that move quickly make you flighty. 

The dog stops a couple of feet from you. His head tilts left, tongue darting out of his mouth. 

"Hi, puppy," you say nervously. 

Like he can understand the irony, he sits down on his back legs and shakes his head, ears flopping from one side to the other. He's a very big dog. 

You frown. He's not cute enough to make you feel confident in approaching him —you've seen how bad some injuries can be from animal attacks. Sirius always tells you to chill out, The chances of that happening to you are so low, doll. You don't have to worry about it every time you see a dog. I'll get you a taser. 

I don't wanna tase a dog, even if it is trying to eat me, you'd said, flabbergasted. 

Sirius laughed at you. I don't know what to tell you, then. I'll just have to go with you everywhere. 

"Bye, puppy," you say, spinning on your heel. 

You walk briskly. The dog follows. You're afraid to turn to check on him, listening to his footsteps on the pavement, the scratch of his nails. He'd chase you if he were going to hurt you, right? 

You turn back around slowly, wondering if he can smell the packet of bacon you'd bought for Sirius' roommate and best friend, James. If you feed it to the dog, James won't want to forgive you (he needs mucho protein, apparently), but he probably will if it's to save yourself from harm. 

You look up from the corner store bag. The dog has laid down and bared his stomach to you, tongue lolled out the side of his mouth and panting. You swear he wiggles his legs to entice you in. 

"Oh, um." You put the bacon back in the bag. "You want a stroke?" you ask gently. 

His tail wags across the pavement. 

The walk to meet him is nerve-wracking. You extend your hand first to let him sniff you, flinching as his head comes up and he investigates your scent. He gives your index finger a quick lick. 

"Are you friendly?" you ask in the same gentle tone as before. "Please don't bite me, okay? My boyfriend, he acts like he's tough," —you extend your hand to the dogs face and stroke his jaw— "and he kind of is, but when I get hurt he goes crazy." You pop your bag down and use your newly freed hand to scratch his tummy tentatively. When he doesn't growl, you give it a good go. "Aw, you're gorgeous. You're not gonna bite, I can see that. Siri was right. He's right about nearly everything." 

The dog curls in toward your hand and starts licking you appreciatively. 

"You're lovely," you praise. "Where's your home? Do you have someone to look after you?" 

He licks you again. It's kind of gross in a cute way, or cute in a gross way. Sometimes when Sirius is feeling disgusting he'll lick a big playful stripe up your neck between kisses, though you have less fear of rabies when that happens. 

"I don't want to make any promises, but I can make you some dinner. Siri's a devoted vegetarian, but his friend treats me like his little meat delivery girl, so he owes me a couple of rashers if you want them." The dog snorts. You giggle happily. "Ew! Don't sneeze on me, handsome, I need to look presentable!" 

The dog tilts his head. You pretend it's quizzical, rubbing his belly enthusiastically. "I want to look pretty for my boy. Might be difficult if I'm covered in mucus, and I need all the help I can get– woah! Holy fu–" 

You fall back on the heels of your hands as the dog jumps into your lap. You push your face into your shoulder in fear, but the dog doesn't hurt you. He snuggles up to your chest and licks at your chin. 

"You're a good boy. Maybe I shouldn't be so scared of doggies after all," you say, sighing with relief. "Good boy. If you come home with me I'll make you some dinner, okay?" 

The dog is remarkably smart. He follows you home and waits at the door, sitting smartly by a potted plant. You race up stairs to Sirius and James' flat and knock on the door.

"Hi," James says, giving you a genial smile as he lets you in. "Sirius isn't home from work yet." 

"Sorry for bursting in on you," you say sheepishly. "I brought your bacon! And I was wondering if I could ask you for a favour." 

James is happy enough to give you some diced chicken he'd been keeping for his meal prep. Which is to say, he'll have to cook more, but he's a nice guy, and thankful that you always ask him if he needs anything before you come over. You rush downstairs again, breathless as you push open the door of the building. 

"Puppy?" you ask. 

"Not my favourite pet name, but I'll take it." 

Sirius stands where you'd left the dog, tucking hair behind his ears. It's standing up every which way. 

"Did you see the dog?" you ask urgently. 

"Nope, just me out here." 

You tip your head back in defeat. "I promised a stray I'd give him something to eat." 

"A stray?" he asks, pulling a bobble from his wrist. He begins scraping bedraggled curls from his face, disarming you with the sight of his tense biceps and his hiked shirt. 

"I'm not sure what kind of dog it was, but it was– it was big." 

"Yeah? Didn't scare you, did it?" he asks in concern. 

You hug James' tupperware to your chest, trying to seem less proud of yourself than you are. Sirius has this way of making you feel like you're a wonder with his eyes alone, dark gaze roaming your face like he knows something you don't. 

He drops his arms to his sides. "I knew you'd be okay. They're not so different from puppies, big dogs. Was he excited?" 

"He let me scratch his tummy." 

"That means he really likes you," Sirius says, holding his hand out for you. You place your hand in his. "We'll keep an eye out for him, alright? You know, I heard dogs like fruit, like, apples and bananas. Maybe you can feed him fruit salad?" 

You preen as he rubs your upper arms together, leading you back to the door, though his comment is puzzling. "You don't think he'd like the chicken?" 

"Nah."

"How do you know?" you ask, bemused.

Sirius looks very sure, bringing your joined hands up to his lips to kiss your ring finger. "Funny feeling." 

[remuslupinslittleslut]

OK I tried a incorrect quotes thing, here're my faves oki

Sirius & James: We have fun, don’t we, Remus? Remus: I have never been more stressed out in my entire life. --- Regulus: Guess what? Remus: What? Regulus: No, you have to guess. Remus, thinking: I don’t know. Regulus: Sirius is in the hospital. Remus: Why would you make me guess that?! Remus: What happened?! --- James: How would you like your coffee? Regulus: As dark and as bitter as my soul. James, shouting to someone behind the counter: I need one vanilla latte with extra cream and sugar! --- Remus: Do you want to know your gay name? Sirius: My... my gay name? Remus: Yeah, it's your first name- Sirius: Haha. Very funny Remus- Remus: *gets down on one knee* And my last name. Sirius: Oh- oh my god. --- Sirius: Wow, they really hate us. Remus: Yes, perhaps they’re homophobic. Sirius: But we’re not gay, Remus. Remus: Sirius: Remus: We’re not? --- Regulus: Sometimes I wonder if I’m hearing voices. Regulus: Then I remember that’s the last bit of sanity I have trying to get me to fall asleep at a reasonable time. --- Sirius: Regulus, you're testifying in an aggravated assault case tomorrow, and the D.A. is worried about how you'll present yourself on the stand. Regulus: Why? I'm fine on the stand! flashback to Testimony #1 Regulus: Look, I'll make this real simple so even these dumdums can understand. Regulus, to the jury: MAN DID CRIME. flashback to Testimony #2 Regulus: I'm sorry, could you make her stop doing that weird thing with her face? Defense Attorney, next to the crying defendant: …Crying? flashback to Testimony #3 Regulus: And when this is over, I'm gonna find you and I'm gonna break those little fingers. Judge: Could the witness please stop threatening the stenographer? --- James: We’re about to do the taser challenge. You want in? Regulus: What's the taser challenge? Sirius: We tase eachother, then drink. Regulus: How do you win? James: What are you, a lawyer? You want in or not?

I think maybe I've seen some of these before, but I thought they were fun so here ya go

[peepawispunk]

I want this like a cigarette (Can we drag it out and never quit?)

Summary: A night in Miami gets interesting when you, a civilian, help Javier Peña catch a narco.

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: You/Javi

Warnings/tags: meet cute, oral sex, creampie, unsafe sex, dirty talk, one ass slap, general Narcos warnings (mild violence, creepy vibes from a bad dude), unsafe situation Word Count: 4.6K My Masterlist

A special thanks to the girlies for beta reading this and encouraging me to finish it! <3

The air was moist and humid in the nightclub, typical of Miami in June. You grimaced in discomfort, sitting yourself at the bar and waving down the bartender. 

"What can I get for ya?"

"A rum and coke please." You said, fishing around in your purse for some cash.

The cold drink was soon set in front of you, and you found yourself draining it, thirstier than you had realized, thanks to the summer heat. You waved the bartender down for another drink, intending to take your time with the second.

It had been a long day; you were in Miami for a work ‘retreat’, but your schedule had been too hectic all week for you to even take in the sights. The team dinner you’d just left had you desperate for a drink, needing a buzz to wind down. 

"Hi." A voice said over the loud, thumping music of the club. You turned to see a young guy who couldn't have been older than his early twenties leaning against the bar next to you.

"Hi." You replied neutrally, hoping this guy wasn't about to flirt with you. Looking at this guy, all you could see was a kid. He was much too young for your tastes.  

He waved the bartender down, ordering an expensive bottle of top shelf liquor for himself, and requesting two shot glasses. 

"I’m David. Rodríguez. You should join me." He said, his tone less of an invitation and more of a command. He gestured to the VIP area upstairs. 

He’d said his name with the air of somebody who expected you to know who he was. So he was probably some spoiled rich kid who’d never heard no for an answer. 

Fantastic.

Your gaze followed his, and you froze for a second. He was clearly part of a large group; there were men strategically posted all around the balcony, carrying themselves with an air of somebody who carried. Your gut told you that these guys were bad news. You’d seen the news reports on the drug war; how it had made its way into Miami nightclubs. It was just your luck that you’d stumbled into the wrong club.

"I'm good, thanks though." You said with a polite smile, trying to let him down gently.

"Come on, I insist." The guy said, less patiently this time. His eyes flickered to his friends, and You got the feeling that this guy was trying to prove himself to them by picking you up. Great, he probably thought he was cougar-hunting, hitting on you like this. Maybe it was a dare? You pulled a face, taking another sip of your drink.

"I'm sorry, but I'm waiting for someone." You demurred when he looked back at you. It wasn't true; you were here alone, but there was no way you were going to tell this guy that. 

“I guarantee you’ll have a better time with us. It might even snow later.” He smirked.

He clearly meant cocaine, and it was starting to fall into place for you that this guy was definitely at least a drug dealer, if not a smuggler. Probably not a very good one, if his lack of discretion was anything to go by. You sighed internally. 

The guy kept pressing his luck, and it became clear to you that you were going to need more than words to get yourself out of the situation. You didn’t want to cause a scene near his goons, but you couldn’t stay here. You took mental stock of what you had on you. It amounted to not much more than a small can of mace to use to defend yourself if this guy followed you like you thought he might. You wished that you’d been able to bring your not-strictly-legal taser on the plane to Miami, but you’d make do. 

You’d taken self defense lessons after a bad experience in college, soon trading them in for Krav Maga. It was the one exercise you actually enjoyed doing, and you’d stuck to it through the years, your instructor a badass Russian woman called Natalia who took absolutely no shit and delighted in a good spar.

You’d be okay, right? You’d done the self defense lessons. Granted, you’d rarely had to put your training to use in actual real life situations, but this wasn’t your first brush with a guy who couldn’t understand no. You just needed to get away from him and his goons. You had the feeling that he’d follow you if you tried to leave. If you played this right, though, he might at least follow you alone. 

You’d slip away with an apology. He didn’t seem the type that could handle an audience for his rejection, so if he followed, he’d probably follow alone. You were banking on it. 

"Excuse me. I need the bathroom." You said, draining your drink and standing up. You pretended to be tipsy, adding just a little wobble as you headed to the bathrooms down the hallway. You dug for the mace in your purse, clenching it tightly in your hand. If you were in a situation where an attacker couldn’t be deterred, it was better to be underestimated by them, Natalia always said. You hoped he’d underestimate you long enough for you to make your escape.

As you'd expected, he followed. 

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. 

You pretended not to notice, ducking out the back door of the club. If he wanted to follow you, you'd give him a good lesson on 'no means no.'

A surge of adrenaline raced through you as you stood in the alleyway, praying that he’d decide it wasn’t worth the effort and find something better to do. You wondered if it was better to back away, run away, or stay facing the door so he couldn’t sneak up on you. 

Before you had a chance to decide, the decision was made for you.  

"How rude of you." He said, bursting through the door, letting it slam shut behind him. He'd come alone. Your hands were trembling now from adrenaline and fear, and you wished that your self defence classes had focused a little more on how to handle that. 

"You wanna talk about being rude? How about no means no, asshole." You hit back, backing away from the man. 

"We could've had a good night together, you fucking bitch. Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?"

You actually laughed, a sharp, nervous sound that echoed through the alley.

"Please, dude. What are you, like twelve years old?"

He did not appreciate that.

"I'll fucking show you, gringo whore." 

Even as your gut swooped with fear, you decided to let him come to you. Close range suited you better, and if he had a gun like his friends did, he'd be at less of an advantage. You knew you wouldn’t be running anywhere fast in your work heels, so this was your best option. You fumbled trying to ready the can of mace, dropping it. The tinny sound echoed through the alleyway, and he smirked at you. 

Before he could advance on you, the door slammed open, and you felt your stomach drop. If it was a goon with a gun, your odds of getting out of here unscathed just lowered significantly. 

A man burst through the door, gun in hand, training it on David. “David Rodriguez, you’re under arrest.” 

David turned and tried to run, abruptly tripping on the foot you stuck out.

The man moved quickly, pinning David against the concrete and shoving the gun in his waistband, trading it for a pair of cuffs. David’s arms were floppy and toneless as they were moved behind his back to be cuffed.

“You knocked him out.” The man laughed, standing back up with a quiet grunt. You cringed in sympathy at his knees, damp from the wet concrete. You felt a petty thrill of satisfaction though, knowing that the asshole that had been harrassing you was going to wake up damp and uncomfortable.

“Thank fuck for that.” You breathed. “You know, when you burst out through that door I thought you were gonna shoot me.” 

The man let out an amused huff. 

"I'm not gonna shoot you. I'm Agent Peña. DEA.” He produced a badge, showing you he was who he said he was. “You've just helped us catch a narco." 

"Well. I didn't have catching a narco on my vacation bingo card, but I'll add it to my resume." You laughed, introducing yourself. "I guess you're welcome. And thanks - for saving me from this asshole."

"You’re welcome. You handled yourself well. Thank you for saving me the trouble of chasing him down."

"I thought I’d take the chance." You shrugged sheepishly. “Never thought I’d be tripping strange men for the DEA.” You chuckled. 

“I could’ve used someone like you in Colombia." He grinned. “Would’ve saved my knees a lot of damage.”

You laughed in commiseration at that. 

He stooped to pick up the can of mace on the ground. “This yours?” He held it out to you, and you took it gratefully.

“Yeah, not that it did me much good, dropping it like that.” You felt your face heat with embarrassment. 

“Happens to the best of us.” He said wryly. “I’ve worked with guys who’ve done worse. And they were trained professionals.” 

“Well, that makes me feel a little better.” You said, still feeling foolish.

As you shoved the mace back into your purse, Peña radioed his partner, calling for transport to take the guy into custody. "Alleyway secure, we got him. He's out cold. No it wasn't me. He got too presumptuous with a woman in the club and she taught him a lesson." 

Peña said the last part with a smirk on his face, looking at you appraisingly. 

"They’ve secured his friends inside, too. Don't worry. You’re safe." He reassured you when your eyes kept gazing at the door. 

“Maybe they’re the safe ones.” You joked, making Peña laugh. 

“He picked the wrong woman to mess with.” He teased you, crossing his arms across his chest. “I was watching you two at the bar. I’ll admit, I thought you were in trouble when he followed you out here. I followed as fast as I could, but I didn’t think I’d be walking out to this.” 

“I wouldn’t normally come out to an alleyway if a guy was harassing me,” You felt you needed to explain, “But I noticed his guys, they looked like they had guns, and I decided I liked my chances better out here.” 

“You’ve got good instincts.” Peña said, his face darkening. “I know these guys, they don’t take no for an answer.”

“Yeah, I was starting to see that.” You frowned, your mind conjuring imaginary scenarios of the horrors Peña must have seen in his line of work.

Backup soon arrived in the form of a squad car and a pair of young looking field agents at the end of the alleyway. You leaned against the wall, watching them as they got the guy into the car. He woke as they got him upright, and Peña seemed to relish in reading this guy his rights as he was marched away, his clothes damp and dirty all down his front.

Once they'd loaded the now conscious but very miserable guy into the squad car, Peña took your statement. 

"They might ask you to testify in court, seeing as we cuffed him unconscious. I should warn you though, these guys are powerful and dangerous, but we can arrange protection for you."

“Only if you’re in the protection detail.” You winked, shooting your shot. This guy was fucking gorgeous, you’d be crazy not to try.

Peña smirked, cocking his head to the side. "In that case, can I buy you a drink?" 

"Sure. Lead the way, Agent Peña.”

“Call me Javi.” He said, leading you down the alleyway. He knew a better place to go. 

--

You’d ended up at a more low-key place down the street from the nightclub, a place much more your speed. 

“This place is so much better.” You told Javi, sipping at the drink he’d bought you at his insistence - a thank you for making his job easier tonight. 

“It is, that club you were at is a tourist trap.” He wrinkled his nose. “Too loud to even hold a conversation there.” He nursed his own drink, a neat whiskey, in one of his large hands. The other smoothed his mustache down - a nervous habit maybe? 

“Not that it stopped that asshole from trying.” You said with a grimace, and Javi scowled. 

“That guy is a real piece of work. Been trying to get him for a long time. I’m sorry he was your introduction to the Miami nightlife.” His jaw was set, like he felt personally responsible for your misfortune earlier.

“It’s okay. It turned out okay in the end.” You said pointedly, “I’m somewhere better, with someone better. You have to let me buy the next round, though. To thank you.” 

His lips pulled into a slight smile, the darkness lifting from his eyes as they wrinkled at the corners. “Now that, I won’t allow. I really cannot tell you just how much you saved my knees tonight.” 

“I’ll have to find some other way to thank you then.” 

“Oh yeah, what were you thinking?” He leaned in, smirking.

You looked down at your nails nonchalantly, then back at him. “I don’t know, a fruit basket or something.” 

He laughed, leaning back in his seat. “Well played.”

“Or…” You trailed off, meeting his eyes.

“Or?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Or I could make you breakfast in the morning?” You finished your drink, setting it back down on the table. He followed suit, draining his glass. 

“You wanna get outta here?” 

“Yes please.” 

His hand settled on your lower back as you left the bar, stepping out into the cooler night air. “You place or mine?”

“My hotel is just down the street?” You offered up, gesturing to the right. 

He brought a hand up to cup your face, drawing you in to press his lips to yours. He smelled of whiskey and aftershave, and you felt disappointment as he ended the kiss, leaning back to look you in the eyes. “Sounds good, hermosa. Lead the way.”

--

It took all of thirty seconds for Javi to press you to the door once you got inside your hotel room, dropping to his knees and sliding his hands up your legs.

“Is this okay?” He asked, breathless as he looked up at you.

“More than. But I thought I was supposed to be thanking you.” 

“We’ve got all night for that.” He rebutted, hands creeping under your dress to find the crotch of your panties, finding the flimsy lace soaked through and slick with your arousal. “Look at this cunt, so fuckin’ wet and ready for me.” 

He slipped two fingers inside your panties, gathering the wetness and sliding it up to your clit, painting circles on the nub that had you begging for more already.

“Please, Javi. Don’t tease.” You slid a hand into his hair, directing his head to where you needed him. He leaned in, bunching your dress up and pressing his nose to the lace, encouraging you to grind against it as his hands found the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs painfully slowly. Once the lace was out of the way, his nose slipped between your lips properly, hard and prominent and the perfect shape to grind your clit against as his fingers found their way inside you, pressing and sliding and teasing that spot inside you and making you swear and pull at his hair.

He replaced his fingers with his tongue, licking his way inside you, and you nearly lost your balance.

"Fuck, Javi." You moaned, pulling his head back by his hair, directing his mouth higher. His dark eyes locked onto yours before his pink tongue darted out and licked your tiny bud. He pointed his tongue, licking you torturously slowly at first, teasing and tracing, making you cry out and throw your head back against the door. You tilted your hips to chase the sensation, urging him to speed up, to press harder, desperate for more stimulation.

"Patience, hermosa." He smirked up at you, bringing his arm up across your lower stomach, fingers curling into your hip with bruising strength, anchoring you in place so he could resume his teasing pace.  

The wiry hairs of his mustache brushed against you as he settled back between your legs, pressing a feather light kiss to your clit, following with a tiny lick. 

"Please, Javi. Been so long. Need to feel you properly."

"You're telling me no one's been eating this pussy? 'S a fuckin crime. Don't worry, I've got you."

It was at that point you realised he’d really been toying with you, teasing you. Because he was determined to make you come now. He focused his mouth on your clit with determination, the fingers of his other hand slipping inside you to nudge and curl at your g spot, pressing hard. 

“Javi!” You screamed, searching for purchase, grabbing at his hair, your other hand digging into his arm that pinned you to the door, leaving crescent imprints from your fingernails. The intensity building inside you was almost frightening as he chased down your orgasm, and you tried to shift your hips for a reprieve, a momentary relief from this buildup that was going to hit you like a freight train. Javi growled when you tried to move your legs, closing them on his head. His elbow nudged your leg out of the way, making space for his shoulders to pin your legs open, all the while maintaining his rhythm inside you, bringing you closer. 

He replaced his mouth with his thumb, rolling and pressing on your clit as he looked up at you, face gleaming with your slick. He held your gaze, tilting his chin up towards you with a small, self-satisfied smirk on his face. 

“You’re so close, aren’t you? Gonna cum all over my fingers, then I’m gonna make you cum all over my cock.”

You whined helplessly, nodding. You were beyond words at this point as your cunt twitched around his fingers, on the precipice.

“Fuck yeah, baby. That’s it, can feel you getting tighter. So close, aren’t you? Can feel you squeezing my fingers, can’t wait to feel you around my cock. Cum for me.” 

You screamed, throwing your head back against the door as your whole body shuddered and twitched with the force of your orgasm, your ears ringing and head spinning as he worked you through it. 

“That’s it. Good fucking girl.” He praised you, working you through the aftershocks until you tried to slap his hand away, missing completely, a wordless whine leaving your throat. He grinned, removing his fingers from you, bringing them to his mouth to suck clean before reaching for you, bringing your hands to his shoulders to support yourself as he stood back up. 

“You okay?” He asked, his lips brushing your ear as he pulled you close, keeping you upright while you recovered. 

“I’m fucking great.” You giggled, gripping at his shoulders. “Not sure I can walk right now though.” 

“Means I did my job right then.” He sounded pleased with himself, but you couldn’t fault him for that. You were pretty damn pleased with him too. He slid his hands down to your ass, splaying his fingers wide and digging into the ample flesh there, lifting you up against him. 

The denim of his jeans was hard against your sensitive clit, making you gasp as he walked you over to the bed, laying you down gently and crawling on top of you to kiss you. You reached down to unbutton his jeans, pushing them down his hips and out of the way, before tugging at his shirt, urging him to remove it.  

Soon, you were both naked, Javi pressed between your legs as he kissed you filthily, biting and sucking at your bottom lip as you took him in your hand. You stroked and nudged him against your clit, sliding him between your folds to slick him up, making him gasp as you finally slipped the tip of him inside just barely.

“Fuck, princesa. Please tell me you’re ready.” He bit out, his stomach taut with the effort to stay still even as his hips had a mind of their own, rocking slightly into you. 

Instead of answering, you locked a leg behind his ass, drawing him inside you suddenly and completely, and Javi made a sound like you’d punched him in the gut as his tip nudged your cervix. You squeezed around him once, twice, trying to encourage him to move and Javi nipped your jaw in warning. 

“Behave.” He rumbled in your ear, twitching inside you.

“Please, Javi. Fuck me.” You begged, squeezing around him again. That earned you a short, sharp slap to your ass cheek, making you squeeze him involuntarily this time. He braced himself on his forearms, his body pressed against yours from legs to chest. He set a punishing pace, and all you could do was hold on, one hand braced against the headboard of the bed, the other clawing at his back as he fucked you hard. 

“Fuckin naughty girl, you liked it when I slapped your ass, didn’t you?” 

You nodded. “I like everything you do to me.” 

“Yeah you fuckin’ do.” He growled. “Oh, you’re gonna get it now.” 

“Lemme get on top? Let me take care of you too.” 

“Right now, you’re my little pillow princesa. You can fucking take it, and if you’re a good girl you can ride me later.” 

You had to bite back a laugh at being called a pillow princess. Javi was smirking at you, eyes wrinkled at the outer edges with amusement even as he fucked into you, the slide of him against your g-spot positively sinful. He knew exactly what he was doing, and that cheesy line shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was him. Then, he bent his head to take your nipple in his mouth, and suddenly amusement was the furthest thing from your mind. He enveloped it in heat as he laved the stiff peak with his tongue, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Warmth coursed through your body like honey; a slow, gentle buildup of pleasure as he worked you over. 

He paid attention to your reactions and noises like he was filing them away for the future, learning you, making pleased noises at your responsiveness and chasing your moans like he wanted to own them all.

He leaned back, settling his weight on his knees, taking your leg in his gun-calloused hand and bringing it to rest on his shoulder. 

“This okay?” He checked, waiting for your nod to re-enter you.

“Fuck, Javi. So goddamn deep.”

“Fuck, yeah. Bet I could feel myself in your guts, baby.” He groaned, then apparently decided to do just that, splaying a hand over your lower stomach and pressing down. You both released twin moans at that, and you grabbed for his other hand, bringing it to your chest in a wordless plea. 

“Fucking hell.” You cried, trying and failing to arch your back, his hands pressing you down and keeping you exactly where he wanted you. The pressure of his hand on your stomach, the nudging of his cock inside you, and the way he was grabbing at your breast, rolling your nipple with his thumb and looking like he wanted it in his mouth again was just on the right side of too much. 

“God, you take it so well. This perfect tight pussy gonna take my cum, too?” He gritted out, hips snapping into you desperately, chasing his own release as you drew closer to yours.

“Yesssss, I’ll take anything you give me, Javi, fuuuuuck. Please.” You begged, reaching for him to come closer again. He moved his hand from your stomach to the mattress, leaning closer, pressing your knee to your chest as he kept pounding into you. His other hand left your breast to thumb at your chin, tilting your face towards his to kiss you. 

You gripped at his shoulders and back, running your hands all over him like you didn’t know where you wanted to touch him most, a hand settling on his head to grip at his hair. You moaned into his mouth as he fucked into you, his pubic bone hitting your clit just right. 

A sharper tug at his hair made his hips stutter, a filthy, punched-out sound rumbling in his throat.

Oh. He liked that.

You smirked against his lips, pulling a little harder at his hair.

“Hermosa, you’re not playing fair.” He almost whined against your lips. “Better touch that pretty pussy for me if you’re going to be doing shit like that.”

You slipped a hand into the tight space between you, stopping for a moment to feel what Javi had felt before, pressing down. 

Shit, you really could feel him moving inside you, the nudge of something hard and thick under your hand.  

“Fuck, baby. Please.” He warned, hips stuttering again. You grinned, bringing your hand further down to touch your clit.

“Sorry. Had to feel it for myself.” You apologised insincerely.

“Don’t sound fuckin’ sorry at all.” He panted lowly in your ear. “Don’t feel sorry, either. Feels like you’re pretty fuckin’ close to cumming all over this dick.” 

“So close.” You admitted, increasing the pressure of your fingers on your clit. “You close, baby? Would be so fucking hot if we came together.”

“Fuck, can’t say shit like that, hermosa.” He warned.

“Come on, Javi. I’m so close. Don’t you wanna cum inside me while I cum around you?” You were so, so close, your cunt getting tighter and tighter around him as the tension inside you built. 

He groaned in your ear, dick getting impossibly harder, and you realised it might actually happen. The thought was enough to tip you over the edge, your cunt fluttering and squeezing around him, your fingers struggling to keep their pace as you shuddered through it. 

His jaw went stiff where it rested against your cheek, a low ‘hnggggggg’ sound caught in his throat, and you felt the warm rush of him filling you, dripping out of you as his hips canted involuntarily. You held him through it as he shivered and shook, catching his breath before he kissed you again, resting his forehead against yours as he slipped out of you with a soft grunt.

“Fuck.” You whispered, and he nodded in agreement. 

“That was…”

“Yeah. I thought that kinda thing only happened in books and porn.” You huffed in amusement, and he chuckled in agreement.

“Me too.” He rolled onto his side, laying next to you. “You got a washcloth or something I can grab?” He asked, gesturing to the mess he’d made of you. 

“Even better.” You answered, reaching over to your nightstand for a pack of wet wipes, grabbing a few for yourself and handing some to him. 

“Baby, that’s fuckin’ genius.” He kissed your cheek, cleaning himself up and standing up to put them in the trash, waiting for yours too to take with him. 

When he returned from the bathroom, you wondered if he was going to leave now, or make some excuse about why he couldn’t stay. He stood at the end of the bed for a moment, hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Does that, uh… That offer of breakfast in the morning still stand?” 

Your lips curled into a smile, patting the spot beside you for him to join you again. 

“Absolutely.” 

[the-oblivious-writer]

Carpenter Sisters Headcanons

Sam Carpenter & Tara Carpenter

Notes: Just some headcanons of my favorite sisters (aka my beloveds). Wanted to give you something since I've been pretty inactive this month partly due to the Christmas special I'm planning (which is coming soon) I also just love Sam & Tara sm, they will forever live on no matter what

Sam Carpenter

We should all already know this but, Sam is all the above when it comes to Tara. Big sister? Check. Dad? Check. Mom? Check, check, check

Makes Tara carry around a bunch of self-defense weapons like a taser, pepper spray etc

Texts like an old man. She doesn't know a whole bunch of "text lingo" so Tara uses that to her advantage. She'd text you "Kys" thinking it meant "keep yourself safe" because that's what Tara told her. She definitely uses these emojis: 😂 🙂

Is completely lost when it comes to "slang terms" and abbreviations. Tara: "You ate that Sam." Sam: "Ate what? I'm not even eating." Tara's laughed/made fun of her for it while Sam remains confused

Hates being called Samantha. It reminds her of how her mother would scold and ridicule her. When Tara started calling her Sammy, she couldn't be any happier with the given nickname

Never got Tara's love for Horror growing up, but tried to understand for her. In her opinion, it's illogical how most of the characters act, but Tara likes it so she doesn't mind giving it another try

Definitely introverted. She's more outgoing with people she's comfortable with; Tara, Mindy, Chad. Growing up, she never socialized a lot

Will always set everybody else's plate before her own

The Core Four have game nights and it can get... intense. Let's just say on multiple occasions (whether that was Tara buying her out during monopoly or Chad and Mindy giving her yet another +4 in Uno) she has been extremely close to flipping the table

Could laugh to the point where she's gasping for air, I can imagine her and the Core Four just wheezing over the dumbest things

Definitely had "the world doesn't understand me so I cope by blasting music very loudly in my room, not gaf who I piss off" phase. One of the songs she would blast was Creep by Radiohead (canon event. I can't interfere.)

Tara Carpenter

Could sleep anywhere, and always sleeping any chance she gets. I'd say she's a night person, and hates being woken up so early in the morning. And I can imagine she's a sleep talker too

Growing up she had a favorite stuffed animal she carried around everywhere with her and refused to sleep without it

She was a thumbsucker growing up, which she was teased for

Never learned how to ride a bike

She's always hated needles. Whenever she was forced to get a shot when she was younger, she refused to take it without Sam being in the room with her. Sam would let Tara squeeze her hand as tightly as she needed to

Cannot drive for shit. I just know this woman is a bad driver, Sam and the others just hold on to dear life and cross their fingers when Tara gets into the driver's seat

Her car is a complete mess, like you'll just find the randomist stuff in there. There's probably no limit to what you could find if you just try hard enough

She wakes up in the weirdest positions and thinks, "How tf did this even happen-"

Bullies kids on roblox (I don't make the rules)

If someone messes with Sam, they better count their days

She can get soo competitive. If she's winning, you'll know. Can get cocky when celebrating, chanting and everything

Her, Chad, and Mindy would put together one of those "performances" when they were little in order to convince Sam to let them stay up late or have a sleep over. Sam said yes every time

Tara's a shark defender. She believes they're extremely misunderstood creatures

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A/N: I need a Sam & Tara for Christmas

[timesorceror]

Inktober Dreamling [Day 31 – Blood]

Having already done a vampire for a previous day's prompt and the last day's prompt being this one, I wasn't too sure what I wanted to do.

But, I had a vague composition in my head of one of them being held by the other, and the thought of a fishbowl rescue with Hob covered in blood hit me while I was looking for potential references. So... boom there was my idea, haha.

Fishbowl rescues are my favorite, so it's fitting this was the last one. (And I'm sure this is fine for the censors. It's just a butt. :P)

The guard slammed into Hob, pressing his back to the wall and his head against the stone. Hard. Blood, hot and wet, began to roll down the back of his head and under his collar. His shirt was black and wouldn't stain, but Hob knew that matted blood would make combing it later a problem if he needed to make himself presentable afterward.

Hob grit his teeth and took hold of the old soldier that lay sleeping within him, shaking it into waking as he swung out a leg and pushed back when the shorter woman's leg buckled, and her grip loosened. She cried out as he tackled her to the ground, and Hob's brain glitched for a moment as he tried to calculate whether or not it was better to cover the sound or to silence it. He made his decision half a beat later, scrambling for the metal baton he'd brought with him for this job and hoping he could find it before she unholstered her weapon or more backup came.

The other guard, a heavier-set man maybe 5 centimeters shorter than Hob, had gone down easily, but the woman on shift with him was scrappier despite her size and weight disadvantages.

She had claws, though, which – though an odd choice for a guard – were useful enough when she lunged forward with a swipe once she had recovered, nearly catching Hob at the edge of one eye. The nails carved bloody grooves into the flesh of his left cheek and up toward his forehead, and almost immediately, Hob's field of vision narrowed as more blood poured across his left eyebrow. He had to close his left eye, hoping that none got in, though it made his job more difficult.

Hob swore but felt a thrill of elation as his hand finally found the baton off in the corner, nearly half a world away from where he'd thought his ears had told him it had landed. (His hearing was ringing too, from the one shot the woman had been able to get off before he had decided to tackle her to the ground.)

He swung blindly back around as though the little metal stick were one of the claymores he had so favored once upon a time, and Hob was delighted when he was immediately rewarded for his instincts. The baton caught the woman across her right temple, and he saw her eyes go wobbly before a gurgling little gasp escaped her mouth, and she crumpled. He quickly knelt to check for more weapons but only came up with a taser and a little silver nail clipper. The gun must still be somewhere in the dark hallway, but Hob wasn't sure he had the time to go looking for it before one of the guards woke up or more came down, as he was certain that someone had heard some of the scuffle that had just occurred.

Well, priority number one was stopping the bleeding on his face or at least cleaning it up enough to see. Hob's jacket did a fine job smearing it around; it wasn't made of the right material to be absorbent, but it got enough of the stuff out of his eye so that Hob could reorient himself and keep going.

Rounding the last corner into the basement, Hob was surprised to see that it was so clean and spacious. He was also surprised to see the large glass sphere suspended across a moat, sealed up with great iron welds chained to the floor and ceiling.

Hob was definitely surprised to see a familiar form curled up within it. His Stranger was partially angled toward the entrance where Hob stood, his hair a wild riot of ink-black tendrils, his eyes wide and filled with similar black voids that were each lit with a single star for pupils.

"Stranger!" Hob gasped, taking no more than three strides to get to him. "How do I help?" He pressed his hands against the glass.

His Stranger pointed to the circle on the ground, and Hob took his baton to it, scraping the paint before immediately taking a swing at the glass. Once, twice, and then – shatter.

There was a flash, and when Hob could see again, his Stranger was collapsing into his arms. Hob hefted him up, though he weighed almost nothing. "It's alright, Stranger," Hob whispered. "I'm getting you out of here."