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demonicbaby666 · 2 months ago

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The Boiling Point

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst and a dash of smut

Words: 3.9k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, light smut, one bed trope, a butt loads of sexual tension, fingering (r!recieving), a slight bit of miscommunication/lack of communcation

Summary: Months of friendship, endless banter and sexual tension all lead to one boiling point.

A/n: @prentisssgf this ones for you <3 I hope it'll put a smile on that gorgeous face of yours and lives up to your expectations. Have an amazing birthday doll! Love and kisses xxx

As far as cases went, this one wasn’t so bad. Sure, the team was stretched a little thin, paperwork was piled high, new cases were flooding in, and bureaucracy kept tensions mounted amongst the higher-ups, but every cloud had a silver lining. You found yours on a Wednesday, around midday, walking into Hotch’s office with Emily at your side, having both been summoned.

“I’m sending you two. I need the rest of the team here.”

A two-person unit would leave you with a load of groundwork: liaising with local authorities, checking out the crime scene, heading to the coroners and ordinarily, that would have overwhelmed you had it not been for the fact you’d have Emily by your side the entire time. Emily, who was now shifting her weight from foot to foot, fidgeting with the loose skin around her nails as she bit the inside of her cheek.

You nudged her, ascertaining from Hotch’s stare he was scrutinising her every move. She straightened her spine and puffed her chest, giving your boss a solid nod as she awaited further instructions.

“You can take the jet. No detours, though,” he said with a smirk, giving the pair of you a once over before bringing his attention back to the paperwork littering the oak desk. “Now get moving. Garcia will fill you in on the details.”

“Damn. I was hoping for a pit stop in Vegas, a quick game of poker, maybe even a couple goes on the slot machines.” You received a blank stare from Hotch and honestly, given the state of affairs running a muck through the BAU, you couldn’t blame him for not entertaining your fruitless attempts at comedy. “Jet. No detours. Garcia will fill us in. Got it.”

And with that, you made to leave the room, trying to tame the rosy tinge of embarrassment burning over your cheeks. For the sake of propriety, you waited till you were out of sight in the elevator, on the way down to the car park, to elbow Emily right in the ribs.

“What was that for?!” She cried, holding her side.

“Don’t think I didn’t see your smug ass smirk on the way out,” You groaned. “I made a tit out of myself, and you thought it appropriate to bask in my misery.”

“For a profiler, I thought you’d read a room better,” Emily laughed, walking out of the steel death trap and into the parking lot, pulling out car keys.

“Says the woman who was smiling like an idiot at the prospect of having me all to yourself for a couple of days.”

She stopped in her tracks, “Got a problem with that?”

Did you have a problem with an attractive co-worker turned friend relishing your one-on-one company? No. Did you beam at the opportunity of having her alone, knowing you’d be able to let your affections run free to a certain extent? Yes. But did Emily’s ego need to know that? Hell no.

It took a couple more steps to realise Emily wasn’t following. Though you were eager to get going, you deeply regretted turning to usher her towards the car. It was her stance that knocked you off kilter. Her folded arms, hip slung to the side, and arched brow made it an outward struggle to remain upright. Had her legs always been that long?

“As smooth as cases go with you and I working together, I can’t say I’m not feeling the slightest bit put out by the thought of having to do a majority of the heavy lifting.” Emily didn’t seem convinced, her eyes squinting as she picked apart truth from lie. Her glare stretched out for too long, and you were beginning to wither under it; the spark of curiosity that drove her to excel at her job was bright and unyielding, threatening never to let go of this subject matter until she got the answers she wanted. You couldn't have that.

You walked towards her, hiding your fear behind a mask of false confidence. The scales were unbalanced, Emily reigning supreme with her brazen approach to the underlying sexual tension that plagued your friendship and you drowning in it—that required change.

With each step forward, Emily took one back till her eyes were wide and her back pressed against the car park wall, and she had nowhere to go. You took victory in the shiver that racked through the brunette, relishing the delicious taste of her withheld breaths skating across your skin. The look of disbelief she wore grew louder when your hands bracketed her shoulders, palms flat against textured concrete.

“What are you doing?” She asked, breathy and fidgety. You couldn't help but let your eyes drop to the rise and fall of her chest, to her bobbing throat.

Dropping one hand to her cheek, you drew her lips open with your thumb, “Taking what’s mine.”

After a few hurried blinks, Emily’s eyes closed, her breath stilled, and you struck. You used the hand, keeping you steadily leaning over Emily to push yourself away. At the exact same moment, you reached down and plucked the forgotten keys from between her fingers.

“I want to drive,” you said, turning and walking towards the car with the biggest shit-eating grin plastered across your face.

Emily’s steps were laden with the force of a thousand stampedes as she stormed after you. Unsurprisingly, she caught up with you quickly, but not quickly enough. By the time she reached the car, you had already clambered behind the wheel and had the engine started. From the corner of your eyes, you observed the difference in Emily’s demeanour. Outrage had burned her cheeks red. Her breathing was steady, but you could see how focused she was on maintaining it as she flicked invisible dust particles off her blazer.

“You’re a little shit,” she muttered.

“Like calls like and all that.”

When you reached the runway, Emily was back to her old self–shooting off teasing remarks about your driving and keeping close to your side as you made your way to the jet.

“Do you know how many road violations I counted?” she asked, sitting beside you and setting up her laptop. Garcia was due to call any minute. “There's nothing wrong with being a passenger princess. Honesty, I think it’d suit you.”

“You sure know how to compliment a girl.” You rolled your eyes and pulled out two case files from your bag, dumping them on the table and flipping one open.

“You should see what I can do in bed.”

Judging by how fast you snapped your neck, you wouldn’t be surprised to wake up the following day to discover a muscle tear. There was a reprimand on the tip of your tongue, ready to rip a hole right through Emily’s self-satisfied smirk. However, before you could reinstate yourself as the reigning champion of inappropriate workplace flirting, a shrill chime tore through the weighted silence.

Emily looked so pleased with herself. It killed you to have missed the opportunity to knock her down a few pegs.

“Saved by the bell,” she hummed, accepting Garcia’s call.

It wasn’t a long debrief by any means. Garcia divvied information on the victims and their histories between a rundown of each crime scene and any other bits of digital data she’d acquired that would aid the case. It went on for ten minutes, maybe fifteen. Work began at the drop of the call, you and Emily scribbling down notes, batting theories to and from each other till you’d weaned down the profile from anyone to the standard white male between the ages of thirty and forty—surprise. Miles high from where the bulk of your work would take place, you and Emily had exhausted every avenue you could. After half an hour of back and forths and meticulous reviews of each victim, of which there were thankfully only two, you gave into idle chatter and then comfortable quiet.

The jet looked different without all its occupants. It still held its comfort, forever the resting place after a long couple of days, but the barren landscape remained off-putting enough for you to seek solace on the lonely couch. A trusty book in hand to pry your racing mind away from the stress of your job.

“Mind if I join you?”

Emily hovered over you, one hand empty and gesturing to the unoccupied space beside you and the other holding her current read. She had her finger wedged within the pages, keeping her place as she waited patiently for your answer.

“Sure,” you smiled softly, scooching to the side.

Paragraph by paragraph, the space between you and Emily was eaten up. By the closing of your chapter, your thighs were side by side, and the older woman had somehow managed to sling an arm over the back of the sofa without your notice, mindlessly twirling with the ends of your hair around her fingers.

“Sorry.” Emily began to pull her arm away, but you held her still.

“Don’t be.” You brought her arm back down, looping it over your shoulder as you rested your book on your lap. “I could do with resting my eyes, and the pillows aren’t nearly as comfortable as you.”

“Well then,” Emily began, a sure smile lining her lips, “I’m all yours.”

Once you’d shuffled around a bit, tucking your legs underneath you and leaning further into Emily, you settled your head down on her shoulder, snuggling into the familiar scent of her herbal shampoo. Emily’s hand slowly migrated down to your waist, where she pulled you closer and held you tighter.

“Emily?”

“Mmm?” she replied, her eyes still on the book she’d impressively managed to keep open with just one hand.

“Could you read out loud?” Your request was met with the turn of Emily’s head and the soft crease of her brows as she gazed down at you nestled in the space between her neck and shoulder. You’d seen her angry, you’d seen her sad, you’d seen her happy, but whatever this was, you’d never seen. The afternoon sun had chosen her milky skin as its subject, a canvas to paint its balmy glow over. Her eyes were lighter under its yellow and orange hue, making it oh so easy to get lost in the space where her chocolate irises met the blacks of her pupils.

She looked beautiful like this. She looked at ease.

“Of course.”

—

You roused to quiet, Emily’s lilt no longer warming your ears with its eloquence and clarity. She didn’t even seem to be reading anymore. Her book closed and placed on the armrest as she watched clouds fly by. She did not jump, freeze or move at all when you spoke.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, rubbing your eyes and quietly beaming at how sleep had shifted your knees to rest over Emily’s lap. The position felt remarkably close to cuddling.

“I’m trying to figure something out,” she started, eyes filled with mirth as she turned to look at you. There was movement along your waist–Emily’s hand gliding up and down, intermittently pausing to trace circles into the intercostal space between your ribs. She’d have had to be blind to miss your throat bobbing as you swallowed a shiver.

“Go on…” you prompted.

“I don't understand how something so cute and tiny, especially when sleeping, can cause such a ruckus.” She bit her lip at the mix of horror and mortification donning your face, waiting to deliver the punchline. “You snore.” Oh, she looked so fucking proud of herself.

“I do not!”

“At first, I thought something was up with the jet, but then I realised you were practically vibrating next to me. Seriously, you should get your sinuses checked.”

“Now I know you're taking the piss.”

A great bark of laughter tore from her chest, and you hadn’t a clue what to do with yourself. On the one hand, you wanted to punch her, and on the other, you were enthralled with the sweet melody of her joy, desperate to hear it for whatever duration was left of your flight.

“If I weren't so comfy, I’d slap you,” you groaned, relaxing your muscles against the warmth of Emily’s side. “How long till we land?”

“Not long, twenty minutes maybe.” She brought her free hand to your face, brushing past your cheek and reaching for the strands of hair that had fallen loose in your slumber. “We’ll head straight to the latest crime scene. The media have already caught wind of the murders, so we’ll have to keep them at bay with a statement.” She listed off your itinerary, tucking your hair back in place behind your ear. “I’ll ask JJ to handle that remotely once we know more. Then, we can head to the precinct and talk to the victims’ families. You take one, I'll take the other.”

“Sounds good,” you nodded wistfully, taking Emily’s hand into your lap, trailing your finger over the lines marking her palm.

Emily’s plan was carried out—first, the sweeping of the crime scene and the reiteration of JJ’s statement to the cluster of rowdy journalists and news correspondents. Then, at the station, you spoke briefly with the police chief, gathering characteristic information about the families you were due to meet. It always helped to have a measure of knowledge regarding the personalities you would encounter.

When the sun drew its last breath over the skyline, you and Emily agreed it was time to call it a day. Hotch sent the address to a nearby hotel, letting you know everything had been handled, and all you had to do was give your name to whoever was working the front desk. So, for the life of you, you couldn't understand how you’d found yourself in heated discussion, or rather argument with the hotel receptionist.

“There must be some mix-up,” you moaned. Emily was standing by you, uncharacteristically quiet and of no help. Her focus appeared to be on her phone as her fingers clattered over the digital keyboard with scary determination.

“I’ll sort this out,” Emily said frostily. Bringing her phone to her ear, she walked away.

As you stood in the hotel lobby, left a little out of sorts by the unresolved problem of your nightly stay, you could see Emily pacing the length of the room, back and forth and back and forth, nose flared, jaw clenched, and words sharp. You tried not to overthink her anger, how the thought of sharing a room with you brought about so much outrage. Was it that abhorrent to share the same space as you for a single night?

By the time Emily returned, she looked defeated. She barely acknowledged you before setting her wrath upon the guilty-looking clerk.

“Surely not every room is booked for tonight,” she sighed, impatiently drumming her fingers on the marbled desk surface.

The click and clack of a keyboard filled the awkward silence.

“Unless you’re willing to take the honeymoon suite, we unfortunately have no other rooms free tonight.” The undeniable proof of the woman’s statement came with the turn of the computer screen. Everything was red except one column. Emily’s eyes bulged at the collection of numbers gathered at its side.

Enough was enough. You weren’t about to let her pay an obscene amount of money just because she couldn’t stomach the thought of sleeping with you. She’d have to suck it up.

“It’s fine,” you whispered, struggling to find conviction in your statement under the sudden attention of Emily and the receptionist. “We’ll be fine sharing.”

—

The hotel, for all its expensive charm, was quaint. The floor was carpeted and looked freshly cleaned, the bedding was crisp and neat over the queen-sized bed, and adjacent was an open door leading to what you assumed would be the bathroom. Once you’d set your bag down, you ignored Emily, too caught up in your disdain for the woman’s callousness to even look at her. She likely had disgust written all over her face, surveying the bed.

You took out your sleepwear, plucked a neatly folded towel off the foot of the bed, and stormed into the bathroom.

When the first spray of water hit, you wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. How had you been so stupid? The flirting, the underlying sexual tension–had it all been a wicked trick played by your mind? Did the months spent waiting for the right moment all lead down to this? The boiling point where everything fizzled into nothing but humiliating recognition.

A single tear fell down the drain, followed shortly by another and another. Soon, it was hard to pick apart the onslaught of tears from the water soaking your hair and rolling down your face. Behind your closed eyes, a movie montage of scattered memories began to roll. You and Emily nestled close together on your couch in the thralls of heated banter. You and Emily patching each other up, reprimanding foolish decisions with teasing remarks and antiseptic solution. You and Emily nestled in your own corner of the jet, dozing off to the drone of Spencer’s ramblings.

When you stepped out of the shower, the mirror painted a sore sight. Reflected in front of you were your puffy eyes, blotchy skin and one glum frown. You could chalk the redness to your face and the swell around your eyes to the sweltering shower. Your sorrowful expression, however, you’d have to fix.

Sighing, you brushed your teeth and splashed some icy water over your face, taking a deep inhale and deeper exhale before exiting the safe haven of the bathroom.

Emily stood outside, waiting.

“Somethings wrong.”

“With the case?” you asked, brushing past her to shove your clothes through the open zipper of your bag.

She followed you to the edge of the bed, hovering at your side with a pointed stare. “No.”

“There’s a lot of things wrong,” you huffed, dumping your black duffel on the floor with a thud. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Something’s wrong with you.”

You stood motionless for a brief second, letting the words register. “Excuse me?” you gaped, swivelling your body to glare at Emily.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it’s not.”

“No, no,” you seethed. “Please, go on. Tell me what’s so wrong with me. Spare no detail. I want specifics.”

“You know what?” Emily shook her head, her humourless smile striking a skittish nerve in you. “I’m going to freshen up. By the time I finish, maybe you’ll have matured and learned to use your big girl words.” And with that, she grabbed her bag and towel, shooting you a disappointed scowl as she slammed and locked the bathroom door.

When she did return, you were in the midst of trying to get comfortable. Sensing by your lack of eye contact, you were no more ready to hash things out than you were before Emily drew in a long breath, flicked the lights off and circled the bed, settling in beside you.

Rest didn’t come easy, or at all. It was impossible to stay in one spot. The smell of Emily’s shampoo and body wash made it impossible to ignore her presence, and on top of that, every time you shut your eyes, an echo of your argument haunted you.

“Are you going to toss and turn all night?” Emily groaned.

In a flurry of movement, the brunette flipped over, facing you head-on as her hands gripped your hips to hold you still.

“I can’t sleep,” you bit out, trying to wriggle out of her hold. When that didn’t work, you brought your hands to her chest and applied light pressure. Emily’s grip tightened.

“I gathered that much.” As if holding you hostage wasn’t enough, Emily tugged your body closer, intent on turning this nightmare into a living hell. “What would help is talking to me about what’s got you so pent up instead of sulking and flailing about like a toddler mid-tantrum.”

“You suck.”

“So you’re taking the toddler thing to heart then.” Amusement danced in her eyes, and a flicker of a smile ghosted across her lips.

“Why did sharing a room with me bother you so much?” you mumbled.

Emily almost looked shocked. Disbelief cut a crease in the space between her brows. “It didn’t.”

You rolled your eyes and attempted to wriggle out of Emily’s grasp, again failing.

“I thought it bothered you, and I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. That’s why I was trying to sort out another room,” Emily explained, her smile never faltering as she brought her fingers up to your chin, thumb brushing the underside of your lip.

“Oh.”

“Sweetheart,” she drawled, her timbre low and husky, “all I’ve wanted these last few months was a chance to have you alone in bed.”

Oh.

The room was engulfed in silence. Slowly, everything became a blurred backdrop as your sole focus remained on Emily. Behind her, the moon shone through the window, bathing her hair in a soft silvery glow. It was loosely tied into a low ponytail and a shade darker than usual, the dampness of the shower still clinging to the thickest locks. Despite her face being skulked in shadows, offering you only the slightest glimpse of chestnut eyes and ivory skin, you could see her clear as day, the contours of her face forever ingrained in your mind's eye.

Months of pent-up tension crackled low in the suspended space between your bodies. You tried to move your tense muscles, coaxing them into seeing this was the time for action. They remained frozen.

In the end, it was Emily who made the first move.

You felt her draw closer, holding your breath for fear that one more pull of oxygen might break you out of this dreamlike scenario.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” she whispered before the press of her lips engulfed all your senses.

As it turned out, Emily’s shameless brags regarding her bedside manner were not untrue. In the small pocket of time it took her to undress you both, she’d managed to turn you into a wry mess of ardent need. She teased and teased till you forced your pride aside and begged her to slot her fingers inside you. To which she did without question.

Moving her fingers in and out, Emily brushed her thumb against the thousands of nerve endings, all condensed into one tiny button hidden at the apex of your sex. She worked your clit between her fingers, each drag up and down, sending a delicious thrill down your spine. Every thrust of her digits marked the spot of rough flesh burrowed within your pussy; expert precision ensuring it never remained untouched for too long.

Pleasure coursed hot through your veins, unyielding in its mission to draw you to your impending release. Mammoth waves of satisfaction rolled up and down your body, contorting limbs till your back arched and your chest pressed against Emily’s bare breasts. She didn’t stop when you moaned through the duration of your peak, pummeling her fingers into the convulsing grasp of your cunt till you were crying out and shaking from overstimulation.

“Fuck,” you sighed dreamily, the last sparks of your orgasm still very present in the tingling of your legs.

Emily settled on her back beside you, squeezing an arm under your waist and pulling you close. “Bet you’re glad I didn’t break the bank on that honeymoon suite now,” she smirked.

“You have no idea,” you chuckled.

Resting your head over her breastbone and listening to the steady drum of her heart, you let sleep lull your eyes shut.

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hongthoven · 8 months ago

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「✦Mist ✦」 ʰᵒⁿᵍʲᵒᵒⁿᵍ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ⁽ˢᵐᵘᵗ⁾

one-shot 𖹭 4.5k w

pairing 𖹭 kim hongjoong (ateez) x fem reader

tags 𖹭 smut; established relationship; rough sex; car sex; jealousy; possessiveness; bit of dirty talk if you squint

✏️ Hongjoong is the jealous kind - you know it, everyone around you knows it, but what was supposed to be a chill night out with your friends takes an unexpected turn when your boyfriend accidentally hears about a past fling including one of the boys sitting at the table next to you.

pls reblog & comment if you like it 𖹭

“He’s gonna blow this off. You just watch”

An uneventful, typical Friday night at your local bar with your usual gang, dusting off the reminiscence of a neverending busy week of work and pretending to enjoy the company of people you wish you didn’t even have to interact with daily. With his elbows pressed against the table as he lifts himself to get a perfect view over the bar where one of your friends disappeared merely a minute ago, Seonghwa can’t contain the hysterical laughter shaking him to the bones as you all sit there watching another chaotic cry for attention from the man who’s about to use another infamous cringy pick-up line to get into the bartender’s pants.

While you’re not always proud to introduce him as such, Wooyoung has been granted with the best-friend status ever since you were still crawling in your nappies and struggling with the concept of syllables; and even though there was a time he used to be cute enough to get out of an awkward situation, watching him make an absolute fool of himself sits inevitably at the top three things you like to do on a Friday night– having Hongjoong there by your side only sprinkles an ounce of perfection to this moment, your boyfriend primarily acting like the cherry on top of every mundane situation. And right now, with his palm tucked between your closed thighs and his forehead occasionally resting against your shoulder every time he starts to laugh a little bit too loud at your friend’s misery, Hongjoong definitely looks like the tastiest dessert to the three-courses-meal you could have used upon heading to the bar.

Red at the cheeks, you can already feel the sheer mix of alcohol and excitement as everyone starts to chant some improvised loser anthem to welcome back Wooyoung at your table, his cocky smirk untouchable as he finds his spot right next to you with the confidence of a sore loser facing the tragic ‘game over’ screen of a video game. Looking for the support he can’t find in any of you, Wooyoung immediately reaches for the first glass in front of him — yours — and chugs it down his throat in what you count as two painfully slow gulps. Within a second, the glass hits the table back with a loud thump.

“Can’t even get your own drink?”

“Hhhhh— chill, babe, what’s yours is mine, remember? and yes, that includes YOU, Joong!” Wooyoung smirks a little bit too proudly, your cheek pinched between two of his fingers as he manages to equally piss you and your boyfriend off with his typical provocative tone.

Lucky for you, Hongjoong is quick to let him know he wouldn’t go near his dick even if he was about to die and the only remedy was laying in his cum�� and as the topic eventually dies with Wooyoung quietly chuckling to himself, the back of his head hitting the leather of the booth you had claimed as yours over an hour ago, Seonghwa calls for another round, ready to keep the night going.

It’s nothing close to unusual, having a bunch of friends in their twenties naturally leading the conversation towards their favorite topic: sex. More specifically, a heated debate over who’s getting some and who gets to take the “no bitches” status home for the week. Seonghwa usually gets the party started– as a photographer, the man never fails to share the crudest anecdotes about a photoshoot turned into some sort of orgy, sparing no details even though being asked to ‘get to the point’ about a thousand times throughout his stories. Then, Wooyoung would usually make his contribution by sharing some of his latest Tinder encounters, using this moment to be his favorite version – the center of attention – and turning a random story about a date in a coffee shop into a Shakespearian drama, tone and everything, to entertain the crowd.

By the time the two single pieces of your gang are done, they typically enjoy teasing you – the happy couple – asking if sex hasn’t turned too boring yet, as you’re soon to be entering your third year as an item. But tonight, for some reason, shit unexpectedly hits the fan when a silly comment makes your boyfriend flinch into his seat, eyebrows knitted together as Wooyoung’s voice – always too loud and high-pitched – comes out with a secret you thought would be kept forever, merely a piece of information, a glitch from the past, nothing to even discuss— unless Hongjoong decides to make it an issue.

“You two slept together?” you only realize he’s been quiet for a while when his voice surprisingly cracks under the utter shock of picturing his girlfriend hooking up with the womanizer sitting by her side. Until then, never considered a threat but now standing awfully close to the woman Hongjoong liked to claim as his, brand new information instantly breaking the perfect balance between a long-time friend and an ex-lover he didn’t see coming.

“I wouldn’t technically call it ‘sleeping’ — I mean, there was no bed involv—”

“Shut up, Wooyoung” you cut him off immediately, rolling your eyes at the way he simply NEEDS to add useless details to his statement.

“That was ages ago” While you feel the urge to add context, the way Hongjoong’s hand immediately stills between your thighs, matching the one holding his glass close to his lips as he tilts his head with a quick, unimpressed chuckle, says it all. He is pissed.

The rest of the evening is quite a blur as you fail to focus on any of the ongoing conversations, your attention entirely drawn to Hongjoong who's gone quiet ever since he heard about a whole section of your life you had managed to keep undercover to this day. And though you try to make eye contact every now and then, you’re a bit concerned to face his clenched jaw and a stone-cold silence, his body only reacting from primal instinct whenever Wooyoung wraps an arm around your shoulders to joke around, your boyfriend’s eyes following his every move like a predator ready to jump if he dares coming closer.

The silence between you two occurs for the rest of the night and follows you through the streets as you struggle to match your boyfriend’s pace, alcohol and stilettos as the worst combination with wet concrete from a drizzly evening.

“Are you seriously mad at me?” You eventually dare to ask, your hand reaching for his arm to stop him in his tracks – quite honestly you’ve grown tired of staring at his back and strolling behind like a puppy who’s just wet the new carpet.

“Take a wild guess” Hongjoong almost hisses as he finally turns to face you, one of his hands collecting a fistful of his black hair to push it back and in this moment, you hate the fact he looks so divine, droplets sparkling all over his face like skin made of a billion diamonds, thick lashes battling against a storm as he locks your gaze, trying desperately to read through your puzzled expression.

“For Christ’s sake Hongjoong, that was YEARS ago— a whole different life!”

“It’s not about ‘when’ it happened, Y/N, I’m just wondering why it never came up before. God knows he likes to talk about the places his dick has been before, we had a complete walk through a world tour— Wish I knew you were one of the stops.”

“It never came up because it means nothing– doesn’t it prove anything at all? We were just horny college students! It was over before it was even a thing!”

“Seems like you left quite the impression” Hongjoong snaps back, his fingers fiddling with his pocket, looking for a lighter and what seems to be the only cigarette left in the packet he immediately crushes and tosses into the nearest bin – baffled. You try and recall Wooyoung’s words and the way he carelessly exposed one of your flings, letting the entire table know about how you had dragged him into the corner of a busy street following a night out in a club, begging to be fucked. Like you said, a whole different life— a life when you didn’t care much about settling with anyone, sick of the dating scene and more importantly, a life when you could still perceive Wooyoung’s sex appeal. Back then, it was easy to be charmed whenever he smiled at you, tongue poking into his gummy cheek like he was a second away from bending you over the sketchy couch of his pocket-sized student bedroom. Back then, mindless sex with your best friend seemed like a perfect compromise, especially when you two ended up too horny yet too lazy to go out and seek for a Player 2.

Now, though? Wooyoung remained your best friend, a comfort place always willing to make you laugh through darker times— but when it came to sex? You couldn’t even recall the last time you had felt attracted to the man. How could you, when the one staring at you right now, eyebrows furrowed, lips pinched together and quite obviously dismantled by the whole situation was still, inevitably, profoundly, everything you wanted and needed from a partner?

“You know he can’t compete…” you feel the urge to insist although you can’t recall a time when you haven’t praised your boyfriend’s skills in the bedroom— or wherever he feels like having you. Truth be told, no one could ever make you drift away from Hongjoong. Even after years of dating, the man still managed to take your breath away. But you would also lie if you said you didn’t like his jealous side just a little. The way his lips turn into a natural pout as he sucks onto his cigarette, his eyes obviously avoiding yours as he frowns towards a random scene happening on the other side of the road between another couple whose fight seems way ahead of yours. You can’t help but notice the irony. Maybe something in the air?

“It’s not a competition, Y/N” Hongjoong rarely uses your name— typically prefers to give you his favorite pet names instead of some boring formality, and tonight is one of those rare exceptions when he is too mad to act like your usual caring boyfriend. You know he is probably rummaging through the most haunting thoughts— thoughts of you pinned up against the wall, clinging onto Wooyoung, both of you still half clothed as he rockets himself into you, making you call his name in the middle of the streets and for everyone to see.

Rain has gotten you drenched by now, the fabric of your dress sticking to your shivering skin as you curse yourself for ditching a coat just because none of your warmest jackets would fit your vibe that night. Your impeccable fashion taste was actually one of the many things that had caught Hongjoong’s eye when you had first met and to this day, your boyfriend never missed a chance to praise your looks— every morning he would stare at you with a loving smile, a second before pressing his lips to your neck as you both stood in front of your bedroom’s mirror, his sweet voice whispering the most devastating compliments only to conclude with a daily “I love you”.

“Let’s get you home, you’re gonna catch a fucking cold” Hongjoong adds, taking off his own coat to let it rest like a cape upon your shoulders. Though the fabric is just as drenched as you are, it feels comforting to smell the familiar scent of his signature fragrance, the one that never fails to get you hot and bothered, only because it is particularly crafted for your boyfriend. Rich, fancy with just enough masculinity in the undertone to make you feel like he owns you entirely.

Although you hear him curse for parking the car so far from the bar, his hand still finds yours as you lock your fingers together, his pace now matching yours — and while you know he isn’t ready to calm down just yet, there’s a sense of comfort in the way he still manages to make you feel loved and cared about.

The warmth of the car hits you like lava as Hongjoong immediately sets the heat above normal in hope it’ll dry your clothes faster. Though he has started the ignition, he seems to be frozen still, his eyes staring upfront, hands on the wheel as you notice just how tensed he actually is, from the sharpness of his jaw to the way his skin turns white around his knuckles from holding the wheel a little too hard.

“I don’t want to picture you two together everytime we hang out, Y/N… Actually, I never want to picture anyone else with you, but me — do you understand? or do I sound crazy to you right now?”

Hongjoong’s possessiveness is no news to you. Not after years of dating the man and witnessing his sudden change of mood whenever he sees a man standing a little too close, let alone having a conversation with you. It’s not a fight you never had before and you know, deep down, it won’t be the last.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you” he adds, almost apologetic as his eyes finally find yours “but now all I can see is his hands all over you… It’s fucking killing me” you watch as he closes his eyes, growling at his own tormented thoughts while the back of his head hits the leather of his seat. By now the windows are covered with a thick, steamy layer, making it impossible for you to see the road ahead. Or to be seen.

Taking on the opportunity of having your boyfriend still processing his own demons, you decide to let your intrusive thoughts win this round as you peel yourself off Hongjoong’s coat, letting it pool on the seat

“How about I give you something else to think about?” you smile, wasting no time in straddling your boyfriend whose eyes suddenly open wide at the unexpected intrusion. There’s a little space for you to maneuver between the wheel and his chest but you somehow manage to make it work, your thighs pressed on each side of his while your arms lock around his neck like two pieces of a magnet smacking together at last.

“Babe— I don’t think you should play this game right now” Hongjoong’s voice is full of warning, his tone a little deeper than it usually is, but you’re not typically the one to give up on a plan, especially when it involves fucking the anger out of your boyfriend.

“Give me one good reason to stop” brushing your lips against his, your hips naturally start to grind over his lap, putting on an obvious show while his hands travel up your thighs, creasing the wet fabric of your dress until it crumples at the wake of your hips.

“I could hurt you” the words vanish against your tongue as you deepen the kiss, dying for a taste of him while the sour mix of whisky and cigarette invades the back of your mouth like a drug you can’t ever get enough of. Caged into his arms, you feel a little boneless, your own body going limp against the stiffness of his muscles as his fingers dig into your flesh, lacing your skins with thin little red ribbons as he carries your pace by pushing your pelvis back and forth against his growing bulge.

“When did I ever ask you to go soft on me?” you tease, the tip of your tongue tracing the outline of his lips as you chuckle at the sight of him crumpling in front of your eyes. One of his hands eventually detaches from your thigh, traveling up your stomach, between your breast, palming your chest until it rests against your throat in the shape of a fist ready to choke the air out of you.

“Want me to go rough on you, love?” Hongjoong smirks, his white pearls as a permanent threat while his grip tightens around your neck, a slight change of shade showing a bruise from a couple nights before, now a little too faded for his liking.

“Fuck I like to see my prints all over your body— show the world you’re fucking mine.” The daunting mix of his filthy words with the growing stiffness between your thighs is enough to have you mewling like a kitten as you tilt your head back, arching perfectly against the wheel while giving your man the most breathtaking view over your breast as it escapes the thin fabric of your dress — and though it’s been a while since you gave up on wearing a bra, the sight never fails to make Hongjoong go completely feral, his lips attacking your tits like a starved animal.

“Joongie— fuck” you almost squeal as soon as his teeth graze the sensitiveness of your erected nub, pulling at it just enough to have you lost in limbo. Halfway between excruciating pain and absolute bliss. By now, your hips are jolting at the most crazy pace, your entire body craving for his touch as you no longer fear for him to witness your utter desperation for his cock. With his mouth still tightly wrapped around your tit, Hongjoong reaches for your chin with one hand, his fingers pressed to your jaw, his thumb finding your mouth already agape as it lands flat against your tongue like a priest feeding you a wafer on Sunday Mass.

While his finger never comes close to the absolute treat of having his junk at the very back of your throat, you still make sure to put on a show as you suck the flesh out of his thumb, taking off his silver ring only to spit it out over his lap with a content smile. Eyes filled with a darkness you know too well, Hongjoong wastes no time fumbling between your thighs, pushing your lacy panties roughly to the side and almost tearing the fabric open from lacking patience as his thumb finally finds your slit, your own saliva melting with the abundant wetness of your cunt.

“Fuck, I’ll never get tired of this” he almost growls, his mouth attacking your neck, chest and every piece of skin coming close enough to his starving lips, devouring your flesh entirely as you instantly clench around two more of his fingers while yet not full enough.

“Joongie please” you don’t care how begging you sound right now with your hand smashed against the window, leaving its print behind while bouncing against his palm like you’ve been cock deprived for months. There’s just something about this man that simply leaves you putty into his hands, desperate for more and constantly craving his touch. Whether you’re standing in a crowded room or alone at home, you can’t recall a moment when you don't feel the instant urge to jump his bones.

You’re lucky the steam is covering up for the mess happening inside your car right now as if anything, everything looks absolutely obscene right now. From the way your dress isn’t doing its job at covering your dignity, all tits out and dripping inside your boyfriend’s palm as he hooks his fingers into you, hitting your special spot just right with every snap of his knuckles, to the increasing sound of your voice as you moan his name like a broken record, brain fuzzy from the upcoming orgasm taking over — yet the thought of being caught isn’t that terrible. You’ve had this conversation with Hongjoong before. When mentioning your kinks and wildest fantasies, you can perfectly recall the time you had told him about how you wouldn’t mind doing it somewhere people could see— while not entirely into the exhibitionism scene, you didn’t hate the idea of having an audience.

Hongjoong’s hand — the one clenching around your throat until now — finds its way between your bodies, fiddling with his belt as you lift yourself up slightly to give him just enough room to unpack your favorite treat in all its veiny glory. Any other day, you would take your sweet time to give him head and have him fuck your throat until you’re sore but there’s some sort of emergency in the air as you grab his wrist, breaking contact as his fingers slip out of your gaping hole so his hand finds a new nest over your chest, covering your skin with a messy coat of arousal as you finally slide down his pole until it empales you entirely.

Nothing ever comes close to that first stretch. No matter how many times you have fucked, Hongjoong still feels like a first everytime he pushes himself into you, tearing you apart with the girth of a cock who has definitely made you cry before. Both from pain and pleasure. But today there’s no time for adjustment as you use the car door and headboard as a lever to bounce over Hongjoong’s lap restlessly. The whole scene is messy, almost crude as you pour over his slacks, the buckle of his belt bruising your skin with every hard thrust of his hips as soon as he starts to pound himself back into you, wrecking the pace and your insides all at the same time.

“Should have invited your little friend to watch” Hongjoong growls, eyes half shut with the veins of his neck growing twice its size from using all of his strength to pistol his hips into your groin from under. “Show him how it’s done” he adds, using both his hands as a belt around your hips to keep you still as he keeps pounding harder with each thrust. By now your brain has turned into mush as you bite into the back of your hand not to scream, completely unable to think about anything else but the insane amount of pleasure piling up into your guts as you feel yourself reaching your high at a rocket speed.

“What happened to you, baby? Lost your tongue?” he smirks, slowing down for a bit only to go harder a second after, forcing your back against the wheel so hard the car starts to honk with each thrust, making you nervous while Hongjoong doesn’t seem to bother about the sudden attention.

“H—hongjoong— backseat— please” you barely manage to moan, almost gasping for air with each word as your boyfriend eventually slows down until he comes to a stop, blessing you with the delightful sight of his dismantled face, sweaty and red with his black hair plastered all over his forehead, thick veins pulsating on each side of his throat, chest glowing with dampness. He couldn’t look hotter if he tried. Peeking at his underarm as he pulls you into a kiss, you refrain a moan at the sight of his tattoo as your tongue instantly melts with it, saltiness of sweat melting with your saliva as you come down from your high slightly while enjoying the complete bliss of cockwarming him for a while.

Breaking the kiss, Hongjoong simply tilts his head to the side, motioning for the backseat, commanding as ever without actually saying the words. Obedient and climax deprived, you lift yourself up and off his lap, trying your best to crawl in the backseat with as much grace as possible while Hongjoong wiggles out of his pants just enough to give himself more room as he follows you there, visibly unpleased to find you with your back against the seat, facing him. Again, without a word, Hongjoong gives you a little twirl of his finger, ordering for you to turn around and get on all fours for him, smacking your ass as soon as it rises upfront in all its glory.

Pushing a knee between your legs to spread them apart, Hongjoong spits into his palm, coating it with saliva as you squirms with impatience, picturing his fist around his cock as soon as the familiar sound of your boyfriend jerking himself off hits you, making you clench over nothing — luckily not for long as the comforting stretch of his cock tearing you apart steals the air out of your lungs merely a few seconds later.

“Fuck I’ve been dying to have you like this since you put on that dress, tonight” Hongjoong grunts, one of his hands wrapping your hair into a tight ponytail while the other rests firmly at the small of your back. Although his thrusts are definitely slower this time, you can’t help but cry out everytime he bottoms out, filling you up to the brim with each snap of his vicious hips.

“What took you so long?” you moan, hands clenched around the head-rest as Hongjoong tugs at your hair a little harder, probably as a punishment for provoking him again.

“Couldn’t wait to get you alone— although maybe I should’ve fucked you right accross the table for everyone to see? I know you’re desperate for an audience…” The filth of his words match the brutality of his hips as Hongjoong pulls out entirely, smacking his throbbing head against your clit until you whine with desperation. By now, that dress is completely ruined, crumbled around your hips like a vulgar rag and definitely covered with sweat and cum but you can definitely recall the way Hongjoong’s eyes had twinkled when giving him a little spin earlier in the privacy of your bedroom. You knew he was a goner every time you wore a dress so thin he could catch a glimpse of your tits hardening under the fabric and today wasn’t any different. If it wasn’t for the unexpected Wooyoung-gate, you knew Hongjoong would have fucked you braindead in the sketchy bathroom of the bar. Not that it would be a first.

“H— joongie— i’m— close” you almost sob, already overstimulated as your guts suddenly tighten into a knot, your body almost collapsing under Hongjoong’s last efforts to get you exactly where he needs you. Lifting you up with one arm snaked around your chest, fist locking your throat, Hongjoong quickens the pace, the abundance of skin-on-skin mixed with the brutality of his thrusts making the car shake under your knees as you suddenly stiffens under his touch, your screams muffled into his palm as your boyfriend is quick to follow, thick white ropes filling you up to the brim as you both collapse against the seat, exhausted.

It takes you a while to come down from your high as Hongjoong helps you settle back into the seat, cradling you. Your hands filled with strands of his wet hair, pushing it back to unveil his blissful face, you cannot help but sigh with the most sincere happiness when his lips find your neck, pecking it slightly, his tongue darting against a bruise left from his fingers tightly wrapped around your throat earlier. In this moment, nothing much matters except for the two of you and the unconditional love you two share.

No more jealousy. No more fighting.

#hongjoong x reader #ateez smut #hongjoong smut #ateez #kim hongjoong

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leviathanspain · 7 months ago

Text

keep my heart

eric northman x human!reader

synopsis: you were his achilles heel, his heart outside of his body, and he would do anything to protect it

eric hadn’t given you any details after picking you up from work. you had settled into his car after your long shift at merlotte’s, the restaurant air lingered on your skin, the hard work of the day ached in your bones. you felt everything but beautiful, and initially refused the vampire’s offer to drive you home. but after much convincing, and the reminder that you barely had a choice, you had reluctantly gotten into the car with him.

he looked at you coolly, turning on the radio as he began to drive. you stared at his side profile, waiting for him to say something. eric smiled slightly, “what?” he didn’t know what made you so special in his eyes, from your knowledge and the words of many others, eric hated humans, didn’t respect human life enough.

but you, you had been the only exception, and eric found himself fighting to keep you in his life, even if he’s had to subtly change his ways. yet somehow, the past always came to bite him back in the ass, hence the reason he had decided to drop you off at bill’s house instead of your house. he owed him a favor anyway.

you watched as the silhouette of your house passed you by. you sat up with a slight panic and let out a nervous chuckle, “seemed to pass my house by. i’m surprised you forgot, i thought your memory was supposed to be sharp.” you tried to be playful, not knowing the bounds of his anger, and you never wanted to.

eric smiled softly, “i didn’t.” his hand moved over to the radio knob and turned the music all the way up. it blasted as you exhaled deeply. you were trying not to panic, you hadn’t been in danger with eric before, and you had been hanging around him for a while. but you weren’t sure if it was sookie’s words on eric that came back to haunt you, or just the sheer panic of it all, but for the first time, you were afraid of eric northman.

you recognized bill’s house as the car pulled in. you had been there just a handful of times, mostly with sookie who had been the one to introduce you to eric. you looked at eric and he grabbed your hand, “please.” he didn’t have to say much else as you understood what he was trying to say.

behave. the word went unspoken, and you stepped out of the car after a moment of hesitation. you had no reason not to trust the viking, he had been more than kind to you for the while that hes shown interest in you. courting you, buying you expensive gifts and gowns, more than a small town girl would ever need. yet, you hadn’t shared more than a kiss, nothing to warrant his affection. it was a mystery, his interest in you, but you liked his company, and at times, his protection.

eric could feel your fear, he saw it in your shoulders as you walked next to him. he had been silent the entire time, not knowing what else he was supposed to say. he put a hand against the small of your back, gently leading you into the house.

you looked at eric with wide eyes as you saw bill. there was an expression of distress on bill’s features as he saw you. you knew through sookie that bill couldn’t stand eric’s infatuation with you. he thought it was dangerous, yet he had no qualms of his own romance with sookie.

so to be standing here at his doorstep with said dangerous man behind you, you felt small. bill looked at you and smiled politely, “miss y/n, sookie is here. why don’t you join her?” he stepped aside, opening his arm to lead you in. you turned to look at eric and caught a glimpse of the look he shared with bill.

whatever he was doing, he was doing it for you.

you swallowed thickly and nodded, feeling stiff as you walked into the living room, seeing the blonde ponytail of your best friend, feeling a slight relief. she usually had the answers, even if she always had something to say about your friendship with eric.

she turned as you approached the couch she was seated on. “y/n-“ she embraced you tightly, “im so glad you’re alright.” she pulled away and you furrowed your eyebrows, “why wouldn’t i be? do you know why eric brought me here? what’s going on sookie?” you had so many questions that seemed to erupt at her words. clearly she knew something you didn’t, and she shouldn’t have told you.

her face tightened, unsure of how to explain the situation, you ran off back towards eric.

he and bill had moved their conversation to the library and you pushed the partially opened door, wide open, “eric- what the hell is going on?” you wanted to trust him, and you had been, knowing often that what he did, he did with a purpose.

but randomly offering to pick you up after work, and driving past your house on purpose had been one, but sookie knowing before you did of your own fate was ridiculous, especially coming from him.

the vampires’ conversation died down immediately and eric looked at you with a stone expression. bill looked between the two of you and once towards eric before excusing himself politely.

you stared at eric, and he sighed deeply, breaking the stoic expression and silence that he had been giving you all night.

“eric-“ you were scared, you didn’t want to admit it but in a world that became almost unrecognizable to you in the past few years, you had the right to be. he stood up and walked over to you. he inhaled and gently put his hands on your arms, “y/n-“ eric’s head was bowed, unusual for a man who loved eye contact, “bill will protect you while i’m gone. i-“ eric cleared his throat, “i’ve gotten into some shit and,” he shrugged, “they have a tendency to harm the ones i love. and i haven’t had to protect anyone,” he finally looked up at you, “in a very long time.” as he looked into your eyes, it suddenly dawned on you that your friendship with eric had long been something else.

“i see.” you couldn’t help the automatic reply that came out, you were too occupied staring into the viking’s eyes. unable to stop yourself, you leaned in to kiss eric, his lips catching yours into a passionate kiss. his hands fell from your arms down to your waist, squeezing tight at your hips.

eric pulled away suddenly and you called after him, “eric!” but he was already racing out the door, his long legs giving him the advantage. you saw him walking towards the door and you leapt towards him, but felt hands gripping at you, stopping you from reaching eric.

you turned and saw it was bill, who’s vampire strength easily subdued you. eric looked at you painfully and at bill, “keep my heart, bill compton, or else i’ll be really, really fucking pissed.”

as eric left, and you continued to struggle in bill’s arms, you were left with more questions than before, and at the tone of his words, you weren’t sure if and when eric northman would return for you.

#eric northman x reader #true blood #eric northman #eric northman smut #eric northman angst #eric northman fluff #eric northman imagines #true blood x reader #bill compton x reader

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syluslnd · 14 days ago

Note

Hello! Thank you for your service omg ur single handedly carrying Sylus nation‼️🙏🏼

Can I request a scenario where reader (who isn’t MC) has been a long term situationship of Sylus, like they’re very much in love but refuse to commit because of the dangerous nature of their work in the N109 zone, but reader really hopes they’ll end up together, only for all her hopes to come crashing down when suddenly MC shows up and Sylus becomes really neglectful towards reader, only prioritising MC until one day he doesn’t accompany reader to one onichynus’s deals and it goes horribly wrong with the reader getting hurt/abducted. Angst to fluff pls a happy ending with Sylus coming to his senses 😮‍💨

when you become his second priority

tags-angst with eventual fluff,mentions of violence

The night sky over Onychinus’s sprawling cityscape was studded with stars, casting a subtle glow through the towering high-rises.

Sylus had suggested the two of you head out for a mission, a deal with some Onychinus contacts. As usual, you couldn’t resist tagging along, always thrilled to be close to him in his world.

Sylus, tall and intimidating as ever, glanced down at you with a glimmer of amusement in his red eyes. You could tell he was ready to take control of the situation like he always did, exuding confidence and calm in a way that made you feel safe, even in the darkest parts of his world. He looked over at you, his eyes softening slightly as he murmured, “You ready, kitten?”

“Of course, I’m with you” you replied with a grin, bouncing a little as you slid into the passenger seat of one of his luxurious cars. Your bubbly energy was contagious; he always acted as if he wasn’t affected by it but you’d caught him smirking more than once.

Tonight, he rolled his eyes in mock exasperation but his hand settled on yours, holding it a little too long to be casual.

As he drove through the city, you admired the skyline, sharing random stories about your day and small, happy details about your favorite things.

Sylus listened, nodding occasionally, a slight smirk on his face, though his eyes stayed mostly on the road. At a red light, he finally turned, letting his gaze linger on you. “You know, sweetie, you’d be a lot safer if you didn’t join me on these things” he said, but there was a softness in his voice, a hint of protectiveness beneath his usual hard edge.

You gave a playful pout. “Then who’d keep you company and make you laugh?” you teased, reaching over to ruffle his hair lightly. Sylus gave an exaggerated sigh, though you could see his lips twitch, fighting off a smile.

When you arrived at the Onychinus base, the atmosphere shifted. The bustling headquarters buzzed with energy and you could feel the tension as the meeting began.

Sylus’s demeanor turned serious, his attention sharp and unwavering as he led the deal. You watched him, entranced by his confidence and poise. His eyes, intense and calculating, scanned the room, noting every movement and gesture of those around him. It was moments like these that reminded you why he was so respected—and feared.

The deal itself moved forward without any issues but you stayed close, offering your support however you could. Sylus kept one arm loosely draped around you, like a silent reminder that you were his, his “kitten” in this dangerous world. Every now and then, he’d murmur a soft “Stay close, sweetie” his voice laced with the quiet authority you’d come to adore.

At one point, the meeting wrapped up and you were alone again with Sylus in the hallway leading back to the car. As you walked side-by-side, you took his hand, squeezing it gently and looked up at him with a playful grin. “See? We make a great team.”

Sylus chuckled lowly, his fingers tightening around yours. “Careful, kitten” he murmured, his voice dropping to a tone that sent a shiver down your spine. “I might just start believing that.”

He leaned closer, brushing his lips against your forehead with a rare tenderness that he’d only ever shown to you. Moments like these made you wonder if there was something deeper between you both. But for now, you were happy in this undefined space, enjoying his closeness, his rare softness and the way he let his guard down just enough to show you how much you meant to him.

For tonight, you were his and he was yours in the only way he knew how to be and as you laughed and chatted on the drive back, you couldn’t have known how precious that laughter would soon become.

the next morning the café was small and tucked into a quiet corner of the city, with floor-to-ceiling windows that let in soft morning light and gave the place a warm, cozy glow.

You felt an excited shiver as Sylus guided you in, his hand on your lower back, a gentle but firm presence that never failed to make you feel special. The café wasn’t his usual scene but he seemed relaxed, perhaps indulging your love for quieter, more intimate places.

He glanced around, then met your eyes, his mouth quirking into a smirk. “This place…suits you” he murmured, pulling out a chair for you. “Sweet, but a little chaotic.”

You laughed, sticking your tongue out at him. “I’d say the same about you” you teased, settling into the chair. He rolled his eyes but took the seat opposite you, resting his elbows on the table, leaning in close. His gaze, as usual, felt intense, even as his expression softened.

“You’re in a bratty mood today, aren’t you?” he remarked, voice low and slightly teasing.

“Only because you make it so easy” you replied with a smile, reaching across the table to gently tap his hand. “So, what’s the plan? You’re the one who dragged me out here.”

His smirk grew, and without saying a word, he raised a finger to get the barista’s attention. When she arrived, he placed the most absurd order, one that left you wide-eyed: every single flavor of coffee they had on the menu. You tried to protest, laughing as you looked from him to the poor barista, but he only shrugged, looking unbothered.

“You said you always wanted to try them all” he said, leaning back in his seat, arms folded. “So go ahead. Indulge.”

“Oh my god, Sylus!” You felt a mix of embarrassment and excitement. “You know I was joking about that, right?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t joke about things you want, kitten. Not with me.”

The coffees started arriving, filling up your small table with an assortment of steaming mugs, each one a different shade and aroma. Sylus watched as you eagerly tried each, laughing when you made a face at the overly bitter or strangely flavored ones and taking note of the ones that made you hum with satisfaction. Occasionally, he’d reach out, taking a sip of one of the cups himself, then giving you his quiet, amused approval if he liked it.

After a while, you found yourself leaning across the table, sharing sips from the same cup, your laughter mingling in the cozy warmth of the café. You watched him, noticing the rare moments where his features softened, and his usual guarded expression gave way to something gentler.

“Did you always know you’d be leading Onychinus?” you asked, a little more curious now that you’d settled into the warmth of the moment.

He leaned back, tracing the edge of his cup with one finger, his gaze drifting. “I didn’t know. But it wasn’t like I had a choice.” His eyes found yours again, something dark but honest in them. “The things you don’t choose often become the things you’re best at.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t have a choice” you replied softly. “Otherwise, who’d be here buying me twenty coffees?”

He chuckled, a genuine laugh that you rarely heard. “You’d find some other poor fool, I’m sure” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. But his hand moved to cover yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

Just as you were about to respond, his phone buzzed, and his gaze darkened. He glanced at the screen, and for a split second, his expression changed—hardened into something unreadable. He sat up, pulling his hand away from yours and the warmth that had been between you seemed to evaporate in an instant.

You tried to catch his eye, feeling a flicker of unease. “Everything okay?”

“It’s just an…old friend” he muttered, voice suddenly cool and distant. He stood up, turning his back to you as he answered the call, his voice low and strained in a way you’d never heard before.

You couldn’t make out much of what he was saying, but you heard the shift in his tone—calculated, restrained, almost careful. It was a stark contrast to the teasing, soft-spoken Sylus you’d been with just moments before. He kept glancing out the window, one hand shoved deep in his pocket, the other clutching his phone tightly. His words became hushed, tense, as if he was guarding some important secret.

Your mind raced with questions but you pushed them down, trying to respect his privacy. Still, a pang of worry settled in your chest as he finally ended the call, his posture stiff as he turned back to you. The usual warmth in his eyes was absent, replaced by a distant, almost guarded look.

“Sorry about that” he said, his tone flat, almost dismissive, as he pocketed his phone.

You forced a smile, hoping to ease the sudden tension. “No problem. Everything okay?”

“Nothing to worry about.” He gave a faint smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. He seemed distracted and as much as you wanted to believe him, there was a nagging feeling that something had shifted.

It had been days since you’d last seen Sylus. The texts you’d sent were sparse on replies—short, curt answers that only seemed to grow colder each time. You told yourself he was busy, wrapped up in some new mission for Onychinus but an uneasy feeling had settled deep in your chest. You remembered the way he’d brushed you off in the café after that mysterious phone call, the way he’d shut down, closing himself off as if you were suddenly a stranger.

With the next Onychinus deal approaching, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Usually, Sylus would be the one preparing you, going over every little detail so that you’d be safe. But this time, there had been nothing—no message, no warning, no instructions. The silence weighed on you, suffocating, until finally, you couldn’t bear it anymore.

You found yourself standing outside his office door, hesitating. The hall was eerily quiet, an atmosphere that felt darker than it had ever been. You pushed the door open slowly, your heart pounding with a mixture of hope and dread.

Inside, Sylus stood near his desk, leaning in close to a woman you’d never seen before. She had an aura of quiet confidence, her gaze sharp, as if she were sizing him up even as they talked. Their heads were close together, too close. She said something, her tone low and laced with a teasing edge and Sylus chuckled—a sound that sent a chill down your spine. It was the kind of laugh he used to share with you.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to step forward. “Sylus?” your voice cracked, the warmth you usually brought into his space muted by the weight of everything unsaid.

Sylus straightened, his expression darkening the moment he saw you. The easy humor that had filled his face just seconds before vanished, replaced by a cold, impassive mask. The woman beside him glanced at you, her eyes glinting with a kind of curiosity, as though she were sizing you up, wondering what your place in Sylus’s life could possibly be.

“You’re busy” you managed to say, fighting to keep your tone light. “I just thought—I thought we could talk about the next mission.”

He looked at you for a long, silent moment, his gaze empty of the warmth you’d come to expect, replaced by an iciness that felt almost cruel. “I didn’t ask you to come here” he said, his voice low and cutting.

You took a step back, stunned. “Sylus, I…I just wanted to help. You always said I could be useful—”

“You should learn to know your place” he interrupted, his words sharp enough to cut through your heart. He didn’t look away, didn’t flinch. His gaze was steely, indifferent, as though you were nothing more than an inconvenience, a shadow he hadn’t meant to let linger.

It felt like the floor had fallen out from under you. “My place?” you echoed, trying to keep your voice steady even as it threatened to break. “Sylus, what’s going on? You’ve been distant… I thought we—�� You stopped yourself, swallowing back the words, but the damage was done.

Sylus’s gaze flicked to the woman beside him, who watched the exchange with an amused smirk, her arms crossed as if she were enjoying every moment of this. He turned back to you, his eyes devoid of any kindness, any of the softness he’d shown you only days ago. “You thought wrong.”

Your throat tightened and the warmth that had once filled your shared moments now felt like a distant memory, slipping through your fingers. You forced yourself to nod, to keep your head up even as your heart shattered with each second of his cold stare. Without another word, you turned and left, not wanting him to see the tears that threatened to spill over, the silent pain you’d carry alone as you walked away from the one person who’d ever made you feel whole.

The drive home felt like a blur, headlights and streetlights passing in a haze as you wiped away tears that wouldn’t stop. Your hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white, as your mind raced with everything that had just happened. It was like you couldn’t make sense of it; every memory of Sylus’s familiar warmth and teasing words felt out of reach, replaced by his cold, indifferent face and that harsh tone. His words, “Know your place” echoed in your head, hitting you harder each time you thought of them. You couldn’t understand. Had you pushed him too far? Had he been pretending all along?

The question lingered, gnawing at you as the car rolled down the empty roads leading home. By the time you reached your place, you were exhausted, the adrenaline replaced by a deep, hollow ache.

The next morning, after another sleepless night, you found yourself staring at his contact on your phone, debating whether to call him. The memory of his sharp tone still stung but the confusion was unbearable. You couldn’t just let things stay like this.

Finally, you pressed call, holding your breath as the phone rang. When he picked up, his voice was casual, almost dismissive, as if the tension from yesterday had never happened.

“Yeah?” he answered, sounding distracted. There was no warmth, but there was none of that anger, either.

“Hey” you managed, your voice wavering slightly. “I… I wanted to talk about yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” he repeated, his tone barely interested. “Is something wrong?”

Your heart sank. He was acting like it hadn’t happened at all, like you were the one imagining things. “I just thought—after what you said, I thought maybe we could… clear things up.”

He let out a long sigh, almost like he was bored. “Look, I have things to take care of. If that’s all, I have to go.”

Your grip tightened around the phone, and you felt a chill run through you as he continued talking, casual, unaffected, as if he hadn’t torn into you less than 24 hours ago. He ended the call with a brief “Take care” leaving you standing there with the silence of the empty line.

It was like a stranger had replaced him overnight and the warmth you’d felt was now a painful memory, drifting further out of reach.

The night of the Onychinus deal was bitterly cold and a dense mist clung to the riverbank, muting every sound but the rush of water. You had been hoping—secretly, quietly—that maybe Sylus would show up, that his absence would somehow break and you’d see him standing there with that familiar smirk, ready to tackle the mission together. But the minutes ticked by and the waiting grew heavier, settling like a weight in your chest until the deal began without him.

but in an instant things went horribly wrong, spiraling out of control faster than you could react. You held on as long as you could, fighting with everything you had, but there were too many of them and you were alone. A sharp, searing pain was the last thing you remembered before everything went black, the sound of rushing water filling your senses as you were tossed into the cold, merciless depths of the river.

When the news reached Sylus, it felt like a blow to the chest, robbing him of breath. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing—the thought of you alone, vulnerable, facing the dangers he’d promised to shield you from. His mind raced, replaying every interaction, every cold word he’d thrown at you and the realization clawed at him with an intensity he hadn’t expected. Guilt twisted in his stomach, a relentless ache, as he thought of the way he’d pushed you aside, how he’d let you walk away, hurt and confused and for what?

He moved quickly, barely registering the world around him as he reached the river, scanning the dark waters until he found you, still and pale, lying half-submerged on the riverbank. His heart pounded, a surge of panic piercing through his usual composure as he dropped to his knees, pulling you into his arms with a desperation he hadn’t felt in years.

“Kitten…” His voice cracked, the endearments he’d so easily tossed at you before now carrying a weight they’d never held before. He brushed damp hair from your face, his hands shaking as he checked for a pulse. Relief flooded him when he felt the faint, steady beat beneath his fingertips, but it did nothing to quell the terror that gnawed at him.

“Why the hell did you go alone?” he whispered, his voice trembling with guilt and grief. “You should have known better than to… God, this is all my fault.” He held you closer, pressing his forehead to yours as if his touch alone could bring you back from the brink. Regret crashed over him like a tidal wave, every moment he’d ignored you, every cold word he’d thrown at you haunting him as he realized just how deeply he’d driven you away.

“I’m so sorry, kitten” he murmured, the words spilling out, raw and unfiltered. “I was stupid. I was a fool. You didn’t deserve any of it.” His fingers brushed over your face, tracing the lines of your features as if committing them to memory and he swore to himself that he’d never let you go again.

#love and deepspace #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you

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liyaauhr · 4 months ago

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SBG RANDOM HEADCANONS 🎀🔥

— When Tyler first saw Ashlyn’s hair he had a mini HEART ATTACK and not because the girl had the audacity to just blindly used a KNIFE to cut all her hair off without even thinking but also because of how fugly and uneven it turned out to be. The following day he brought a pair of cutting sheers to the bus and fixed her hair up while scolding and rambling on at her like a pissed off mother in Spanish. Ashlyn was just confused because her Spanish weren’t sufficient to keep up with Tyler’s speed but she was smart enough to know everything Tyler was saying was probably to be repeated to Lily…but he also made a point of smacking her hand away every Ashlyn got impatient and tried doing it herself.

(She started paying more attention to Spanish classes after that).

— Taylor and Aiden are not trusted to do ANYTHING together by themselves. Tyler is the worst Aiden enabler ever, if he has a dumb idea she will try to talk it out of him for 2 minutes MAX and then give up and join him instead (if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em). This once lead to them destroying a whole supermarket aisle while trying ride down their trolleys as fast as possible and then the second incident ensued them getting lost for 3 hours at a theme park (the only reason the rest of the gang found them in the end because Aiden somehow managed to sneak into the theme parks control room and use the mic).

— More Taylor and Aiden (because not enough people talk about these two!!!): They’re banned from playing music in the car. Aiden plays the same songs repeatedly on full blast and Taylor's song choices always end up starting a fight.

— Out of all of the gang the ones who get the best grades are Tyler, Logan and Aiden in that order. Logan and Tyler actually try really hard in class which is why they usually get A’s but while the STEM side of Logan’s grades are shining, the English side? Not so much. He’s working on it though! Somehow Aiden gets As and Bs while paying 0 attention in class. Taylor usually gets Bs with the occasional A, Ben usually gets B’s and Ashlyn’s grades have been slipping because of all the stress in the phantom realm, she used to get Bs and As but now she’s been seeing a lot more Cs and even D’s.

— Tyler and Ashlyn get forced to hold hands every time they argue until they apologise. Takes a damn long time for that to happen because it’s Taylor and Ashlyn. Why not just stop holding hands, you ask? Turns out Taylor Hernandez can be a REAL BITCH sometimes.

— Ben is an observer, sometimes when the group hangs out and something interesting happens, he’d sketch it out on his notepad and finish it at home. He also has sketches of all his friends but doesn’t like to show anyone because he’s a perfectionist lol.

— Even though Aiden’s house is the biggest, it’s actually Ashlyn’s house they mainly hang around with because of one thing: her parents. The Banners ended up becoming second parents to literally all of the kids and actually enjoy having them around.

— Adding onto the previous headcanon, Ashlyn’s parents have little details of the kid’s memorised. Like Logan’s peanut allergy, the way the Hernandez twins always linger around to try and help out someway,

— Aiden and Ben have separate rooms but more often than not Aiden usually ends up having spontaneous sleepovers in Ben’s room. Ben doesn’t mind and enjoys the company and Aiden dislikes the memories associated with his room.

— Taylor loves Taylor Swift, Ashlyn hates her for it (if she has to hear love story one more time she will sell Taylor to a phantom).

— Every time they hang out at Aiden’s house Taylor somehow always gets lost.

— They all make a point to show up for eachothers’ personal events e.g Tyler’s baseball games, Ashlyn’s ballet performances, help out at Logan’s greenhouse etc.

— Tyler is a secret romcom lover.

— Logan and Aiden are the resident horror enthusiasts.

#sbg #school bus graveyard #aiden clark #ashlyn banner #ben clark #logan fields #school bus graveyard webtoon #taylor hernandez #tyler hernandez #tyler sbg #taylor sbg #aiden sbg #ben sbg #logan sbg #ashlyn sbg

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oofthwoods · 9 months ago

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THE BRAWN GP GARAGE GRAND PRIX! ── ˙ ̟ the echo !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: jenson button had always been a great commentator, especially when it came to narrating the wild world of imaginary races, where the only challenger was none other than the daughter of his teammate.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: part of the "it takes a paddock" miniseries, that explores moments of echo!reader's childhood in the paddock.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 1.2k (just a sweet little story)

The Brawn garage buzzed with activity as the team prepared for another day of testing at the Circuit de Catalunya. Mechanics hurried back and forth, checking and double-checking every detail of the sleek white cars that lined the garage. The air was thick with the smell of rubber and gasoline, and the sound of engines revving filled the space, creating an atmosphere of anticipation and excitement.

Amidst the chaos, a quieter corner of the garage served as a sanctuary from the frenzy. There, sitting on a stack of tires, was Rubens Barrichello's daughter, her hair falling in loose curls around her shoulders as she concentrated intently on her coloring book. Her small fingers gripped a crayon with determination, carefully filling in the lines of a picture with vibrant colors.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through her concentration, and she looked up to see Jenson Button, her father's teammate, approaching with a warm smile. Her face lit up with excitement at the sight of the man, and she jumped off the tires to greet him with a hug.

"Uncle Jen!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. "Are you here to race today too?"

Jenson chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement as he ruffled her hair affectionately. "Not today, sweetheart," he replied. "Your dad's the one doing the racing. But I'm here to keep you company while he's busy out on track."

The girl's eyes sparkled with delight as she listened to Jenson's words. She admired him greatly, not just because of his talent, but because he always took the time to interact with her whenever they crossed paths in the garage.

"Can we do something fun?" she asked eagerly, bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement.

Jenson nodded enthusiastically, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Of course! How about we have a little race of our own? I'll be the commentator, and you can be the driver."

The girl's face lit up with excitement as she eagerly agreed to the idea. Jenson wasted no time, quickly scurrying around the garage to gather up cones and spare parts to create a makeshift race track. With deft hands, he arranged the obstacles into a winding course that snaked its way around the various tools and equipment scattered about.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the inaugural Brawn Garage Grand Prix!" Jenson announced with theatrical flair, holding up a makeshift microphone fashioned out of an old wrench. "On pole position, we have the one and only… Y/N Barrichello! And alongside her, it's me, Jenson Button, your trusty commentator for today's race."

The girl giggled with delight as she took her position at the starting line, her tiny hands gripping the imaginary steering wheel with determination. Jenson, playing his part to perfection, took up his position as the announcer, adopting a dramatic tone befitting the occasion.

"Get ready, folks! The tension is palpable as our fearless competitors prepare to battle it out on the treacherous Brawn Garage circuit!" Jenson proclaimed, his voice echoing off the walls of the garage.

With a flourish, he counted down from three, his arm slicing through the air like a conductor leading an orchestra. As his hand dropped, signaling the start of the race, the girl stomped on the imaginary accelerator, her make-believe engine roaring to life as she shot off the line in a blur of excitement.

The garage was transformed into a miniature racetrack, the sound of imaginary engines filling the air as the girl and Jenson darted and weaved their way through the makeshift obstacles. Cones became chicane markers, and toolboxes served as hairpin bends, each turn and straightaway presenting a new challenge for the intrepid racers.

Jenson, ever the entertainer, provided colorful commentary as they raced, his voice rising and falling with the ebb and flow of the action. He cheered the girl on with infectious enthusiasm, his words spurring her on to greater feats of daring as she navigated the course with the skill and precision of a seasoned pro (if there ever was a pro of fake racing).

As they crossed the makeshift finish line, Jenson scooped up the girl in one swift motion, lifting her onto his shoulders. Her laughter filled the garage, bubbling over with unrestrained joy as she clung to him, her tiny hands gripping his shoulder.

"Congratulations, champ!" Jenson announced, his voice booming with theatrical flair. "You've just won the first-ever Brawn Garage Grand Prix!"

The mechanics, who had been watching the impromptu race with amused smiles, erupted into cheers and applause. They clapped their hands enthusiastically, their cheers mingling with the sound of engines revving in the distance.

"Way to go, kiddo!" one of the mechanics shouted, giving the girl a thumbs-up.

Some of the mechanics rushed forward to offer high-fives to the victorious little girl, their faces alight with excitement. Others pulled out their phones, eager to capture the moment for posterity. Flashbulbs popped as they snapped photos of Jenson and the young girl, their bond evident for all to see in the warmth of their smiles.

Jenson, his own grin infectious, basked in the attention, reveling in the joy of the moment. "Looks like we've got ourselves a world champion in the making!" he declared, beaming down at the girl perched on his shoulders.

The girl giggled, her cheeks flushed with happiness. "Thanks, Uncle Jen! That was so much fun!"

Rubens, returning to the garage after his stint on track, couldn't help but smile at the heartwarming scene unfolding before him. His daughter, flushed with excitement and clinging tightly to Jenson's shoulders, looked happier than he had seen her in weeks. And Jenson, with his infectious grin and easy charm, seemed to have cast a spell over the entire garage, filling it with an atmosphere of camaraderie and joy.

Walking over to join the celebration, Rubens wrapped an arm around his daughter's shoulders, pulling her into a warm embrace. "Looks like you had quite the race, huh?" he teased, ruffling her hair affectionately.

The girl nodded enthusiastically, her eyes shining with pride. "It was the best race ever, Dad! Uncle Jen said I was the fastest driver in the whole garage!"

Rubens chuckled, shooting a grateful smile in Jenson's direction. "Well, I have no doubt about that. You've got quite the talent behind the wheel, just like your old man."

Jenson grinned, giving Rubens a playful punch on the arm. "Hey now, don't go giving her all the credit. She may have won the race, but I was the one providing the commentary! And let me tell you, it was a masterpiece of sports broadcasting."

The three of them laughed, the sound echoing off the walls of the garage, mingling with the hum of activity as the team prepared for the next session. For a brief moment, all the stresses and pressures of life in the fast lane melted away.

With Jenson by her side, Rubens knew that his daughter was in good hands – and that was a comforting thought indeed.

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3) :: @studioreader, @fanficweasley , @stinkyjax , @namgification , @judespoision , @cha-hot , @disneyprincemuke , @itsjustkhaos , @trouble-sistar , @ihateyougunthersteiner , @treehouse-mouse , @cherry-piee , @fangirl125reader , @cassie0sstuff, @be-your-coffee-pot , @elijahslover , @flannelforthetoads , @m0cha-bunny , @ironmaiden1313 , @glitterquadricorn , @spideybv28 , @celesteblack08 , @thatgirlthatreadswattpad , @itscrzy, @canihavemyhoodieback , @eugene-emt-roe, @weirdshinji, @woozarts, @marshmummy, @80sloverry

#f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 scenarios #f1 x reader #fem!driver reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 scenarios #formula 1 imagines #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 x fem!driver #fem!driver #formula 1 x reader #x reader #driver reader #jenson button X platonic!reader #⋆⠀᰷ ֹ 🍙 ˓ the echo ﹗

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parkert01 · 5 months ago

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My Wife - Aaron Hotchner

You and Aaron had been dating for a year. You had met when you were walking your sister's dog in the local park and Jack had come running up to you asking if he could pet them, of course you agreed and thats when his dad introduced himself as Aaron Hotchner but insisted you called him Aaron. You met them every time you went to the park.

You started to get excited at the prospect of seeing him again and he felt the same, he eventually asked you on a date, to which you happily agreed. Time flew by when you were with him, happy to be in his company. You started making Jack and Aaron's food for school and work respectively. When his team noticed they asked him who had been making them, he was very secretive with the details and didnt tell them much.

They asked Garcia to hack his phone to see but she refused to, she did want to know who was making her boss smile but wanted Aaron to tell them in his own time.

You were currently in the passenger side of Aaron's car on the way to his work. You kept staring and him, he smiled at you and you felt your heart rush. He had this blush rising from his neck to his face because you kept staring lovingly at him. He had never had someone so in love with him before, it felt really strange and magical at the same time.

When he pulled up and parked the car in the car park. He then got out, rushed to your door and opened it for you. He held your hand as you got out the car and all the way to the building. Aaron was always opening doors for you, that's what made you fall for him. He was always a gentleman and kind, he didnt kiss you until your 3rd date.

He held your hand all the way to the the floor he worked on, as he opened the door he coughed to get everyone's attention. "Everyone this is my wife Y/N". You gasped and looked at him. You blushed and started to giggle. He looed down and you confused for a moment before saying "Sorry, she is my girlfriend not my wife".

He lead you down the steps to where all of his team was waiting and introduced to them one by one. The girl you knew as Penelope, dragged you to one side and started asking you questions about your relationship, all of which you happily answered.

Aaron was stood staring at you with love and dedication in his eyes. Emily walked up to him and said "Wife? You really love her dont you?". He didn't offer a verbal response but just nodded and patted his trouser pocket, where the engagement ring was. He had plans to ask you very soon.

#aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal mind one shot #hotch fic #hotch #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x female reader #female reader

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zepskies · 1 year ago

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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):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

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

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

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venusjaynie · 2 years ago

Text

Newbie

Jim Halpert x fem!Schrute!Reader

summary: You're the newest employee, and also happen to be Dwight's sister. Jim doesn't realise how different Dwight and you are at first, but after being desk-mates for a whole day, he gets well-acquainted with you and is pleasantly surprised to learn that you're very different from your brother.

warnings: none!

word count: 2k

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Dwight parks the car in the car park of the Dunder Mifflin, Scranton branch, and you step out, smoothing down your clothes as you do so. Dwight had insisted he pick you up and drive you to the office for your first day. He may be an idiot, but he's nothing if not protective. He lifts your bag out of the back of the car and decides that he will carry it for you.

"Okay, look, I'm not gonna lie to you. This is gonna be intimidating for you. Working alongside me as your brother alone is pretty daunting, not to mention my sales record being one of the best that the company has ever seen. But don't be nervous, alright?" Dwight says, as you enter the building and make your way to the elevator. You nod your head in response, trying to calm your anxiety.

Despite your older brother's feeble attempt to comfort you, nerves have settled in the pit of your stomach. You're quite apprehensive to meet this 'Jim' character that Dwight is always complaining about. He seems annoying, and you don't want anything to distract you from your work today. You need to make a good first impression on the boss. Dwight seems to admire him, so you think he must be respectable.

The elevator stops and the doors slide open, and Dwight looks down at you.

"You ready?" He asks seriously.

"Ready as I'll ever be." You reply, taking a deep breath. He hands you your bag and leads the way to a door that says: 'Dunder Mifflin Paper company'. The two of your walk into the office, and are greeted by the receptionist.

"Hello, Pamela." Dwight says in his monotone voice.

"Hey, Dwight, who's this?" She looks over to you, and smiles, and you make an attempt to smile back, but your nervousness probably turns it into more of a grimace.

"This is my sister, you have her details already, Pam, you knew she was coming." Dwight rolls his eyes, and Pam makes a face that clearly says 'shut up'. You giggle at that, and walk over to Pam's desk.

"Hi, I'm Pam. If you need-" She was cut off by the door to another room opening, and someone shouting. You turn around to see what the commotion is, but it looks to be that you are the commotion.

"Oh! Who's the new girl? She's cute. Pam, do you have a sister none of us know about, because you two look identical." The man is looking at you, but not at your face. His line of sight is about 12 inches below your face, actually. You immediately realise what he is referring to, and turn around to Pamela to see her reaction to the mans crude comment, but she doesn't seem to react, and look as if she's used to it.

You choose not to voice your displeasure to his remarks, but Dwight, however, didn't take that same route.

"This is my sister. I respect you, Michael, but if you ever make any sort of sexual remark aimed towards my sister again, I will have to destroy you." He steps toward Michael, staying true to his dramatic nature, and Michael just awkwardly laughs and calls Dwight an idiot.

"Of course I know this is your sister, God, Dwight, I'm not stupid. I was kidding anyway." Michael turns back towards you.

"You must be Michael Scott, my new boss?"

"Guilty as charged, my dear. Now, lets see, where can we fit you in? There's a seat over by Stanley and-" He starts.

"No, Michael, she should sit across from me, that way I can keep an eye on her." Dwight interrupts him.

"Okay then, you'll sit across from Dwight, next to Jim. Now, if you'll excuse me I have a call to make to Jan." Michael retreats back to his office, and Dwight point to your seat. You're slightly nervous to be seated next to Jim, but you don't argue with your brother, because to argue with Dwight is simply a waste of time.

"Hey, newbie. I would introduce myself, but I'm sure Dwight has already told you all about me." Jim says, looking at Dwight with a smile.

"For your information, yes, I have. And she knows your name is Jim because Michael just said it, idiot." You laugh at Dwight's response, and then again at Jim rolling his eyes in feigned annoyance.

You talk to Jim for a little while longer, and then he gets up to grab you both some coffee from the break room. You realise you should probably get some work done, and you turn on your computer, but after staring at the screen for a few minutes it hits you that you actually don't know what you're doing. While you have a sales background, every company has a different way of dealing with sales calls.

"Dwight? What's the protocol for a sales call here? Is there a handbook, or a script I need to follow?"

"No, you just make it up as your go along. Look, Michael is all about customer satisfaction, and personalisation of orders, so just be nice, okay?"

"Okay, I can do that." You reply.

"Of course you can, you're a Schrute. You'll figure it out." You nod in response.

Dwight hands you a small pile of leads to get you started, and you start to dial the first number.

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

In the break room, Jim and some of the other employees are talking over some coffee, and you overhear some of what they're saying as you walk up to the door.

"So, what do you all think of the new girl?" It's Jim that asks. His back is turned toward the door, so he doesn't see you approaching

"She seems sweet. Sweeter than Dwight is anyway." You can't tell who says that, but you know it's a woman.

"Is that really a way to measure how nice someone is? Comparing them to Dwight?" Whoever says that gets a few laughs from the others. It's almost hurtful to hear them talk about your big brother that way. Sure, he has is quirks, and he can be abrasive or harsh sometimes, but that's just who he is.

"I don't know guys. She seems sort of odd to me. I mean, she's nice and all, but she's a Schrute." The small blonde women scoffs at whoever makes that comment. You know her. You've seen her in Dwight's house a few times when you're visiting. She doesn't stick around for long when she knows you're there, but Dwight thinks very highly of her.

You don't realise how long you've been standing there until Pam comes up behind you and asks if you're okay.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just zoned out for a second." She eyes you wearily, but doesn't question it.

"Alright, you coming in?" She asks, motioning to the breakroom, but you shake your head, not totally sure you want to have a work break with the people that clearly dislike your brother.

"You sure? It might be fun to let everyone get to know you." After a moment or two of deliberation, you accept her offer and follow her through the doors, offering a shy smile when the others turn to look at you.

"Hey, new girl. How you finding the job? I'm Ryan, by the way." You nod, and shake his outstretched hand.

"It's alright. Dwight's been helping me out if I need it, but I think I'm doing pretty well."

"God, I just can't believe you're Dwight's sister. You're so different." You don't really know how to respond to Ryan's comment, and luckily you're saved by someone, who you still don't know the name of.

"If you need anything, and don't want to ask Dwight, me and Stanley are happy to help. I'm Phyllis." Phyllis seems sweet, and a man, presumably Stanley, just hums at her statement. You can't tell whether he's agreeing or not.

"Thank you, Phyllis, but really, Dwight's helping me whenever I need it." She just nods. The room goes quiet, and you just have to ask what these people think of your brother. "Hey, um, do you guys not like Dwight?"

No one answers.

"Ah, I see." You speak to no one in particular, and give the group a tight-lipped smile.

"It's not that we dislike him... we just disagree with how he handles certain situations." Pam speaks up, and you nod at her, still not entirely sure why people feel like this about Dwight, but truthfully you don't really care enough to pry.

"Alright, well, I'm gonna go back out to my desk, so I'll catch up with you guys later." You get up and turn to leave before you're stopped by Jim.

"Hey, newbie, wait up. I'm heading back out there too." Jim gets up and joins you on the walk back to your desk clump, and he tells you how Dwight and he have a 'charming back and forth banter' type of companionship.

"I don't know, Halpert. Dwight seems to have a different view of your relationship." Jim laughs at your answer.

"Really? What's he told you?" You shake your head and tap the side of your nose, indicating that it's a secret, and Jim playfully rolls his eyes.

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By the end of the day, you've gained 5 clients, which Dwight tells you shows promise. Jim congratulates you on a successful first day, and offers to walk you out to your car.

"Well, Dwight's car, but, sure." You smile as Jim picks up your coat from the rack and hands it to you, and the two of you say goodbye to Pam.

"Why'd Dwight drive you to work? Do you live with him and Mose?" He asks while you walk down the stairs of the building.

"No, God, no. I love my brother, but I don't think I could live with him." Jim chuckles at your words. "He drove me to work because he wanted to make sure I was okay. He knows I get really anxious about meeting new people and stuff, so he just wanted to calm my nerves as much as he could."

"Huh, I never saw Dwight as the 'calming nerves' type."

"In our family, blood relation is everything. I spent my whole life with my siblings, and we didn't really have many friends between us. So he grew very protective of my and our sister, Fannie." Jim looks somewhat shocked, but you just smiled, being used to that reaction from people who know Dwight as harsh and, slightly, rude.

Neither of you speak for a moment as you near the door, and you can see Dwight tapping his wrist watch while staring at you, so you think it best to get a move on.

You make a move for the door, but Jim beats you to it, and holds the door open for you.

"Thanks, Halpert."

"No problem, newbie." He walks to the car, and as you're about to open the door, he speaks up.

"Hey, I'm, uh, really glad you're gonna be working here." He shoots you a shy smile, and you lightly brush your hand against his arm.

"Me too, Halpert. See you tomorrow, yeah?" He nods, and turns to leave, but adds,

"If you ever want a ride to work that isn't Dwight, here's my number." He hands you a little piece of card, evidently his business card, and you slip it into your bag.

"Thanks, Jim. I may just take you up on that offer." You reply, smiling at him and stepping into your brother's car.

"So, what d'you think? Jim's as awful as I told you, right?" Dwight asks while starting up the car.

"He's not so bad." You respond, with a soft grin on your face. Dwight doesn't reply, but eyes you wearily before checking your temperature with the back of his hand against your forehead, and you swat his hand away, laughing as his antics.

"You gonna come back tomorrow?" He asks after a while of silence.

"Definitely."

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thinking of making this a series, or just doing part two!

#jim halpert #jim halpert x reader #jim halpert x fem!reader #the office us #the office #jim halpert fic #jayne writes

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gyuvinsmistress · 3 months ago

Text

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡ the assistant ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: you’ve just been hired for a mystery role at wakeone entertainment to work with members of zb1. your job description is slightly more than you bargained for.

♡ gyuvin & jiwoong x reader fic

♡ gwajaz sexual tension & well..

♡ dominant jiwoong teaching gyuvin how to fuck though he doesn’t need much help

♡ female reader , 18+, explicit

tysm if you read!! also posted on my ao3 :3

You pull up outside of the WakeOne Entertainment building. "This must be it..." you think to yourself as you park your black sedan in the parking lot labeled "staff only" in front of the building. The first day of work jitters are overwhelming you with anxiety as you put the vehicle in park and pull down the mirror to look at yourself. You remove a shiny silver lip tint from your purse and begin to apply it. Fidgeting with your hair and your beige pencil skirt, it's hard to focus as scattered thoughts fly through your mind. This job fell into your lap after responding to an online ad for an entertainment assistant just a week ago. Badly in need of money, you eagerly accepted the job offer quickly, though the pay was meager, and the circumstances were mysterious. No one told you exactly what you'd be doing. "Better than nothing..." you thought to yourself.

The person who posted the job listing wouldn't give you many details over the phone, just that you'd be assisting some members of a kpop group at the entertainment company. This excited you as you enjoyed Kpop casually and the music industry interested you. You get out of your car, lock the door, and proceed to the entrance of the fancy glass building. Your stilettos make a steady beat as they click and clack against the pavement. A well-groomed man in his forties is seated at the front desk.

"Hello, how can I help you?" he asks smiling slightly.

"Hi," you begin, placing your bag down. "I'm here for the job listing, I replied a few days ago..." you trail off, unsure if the man will know what you're talking about.

"Oh yes," he grins. "The entertainment assistant!" he declares excitedly.

"Yeah, that's me I guess," you laugh anxiously still unaware of what awaits you.

"Follow me right this way." He stands up and walks around to the other side of the desk where you're standing. He extends his arm out toward a hallway, gesturing for you to follow him. "After you."

You begin walking down the narrow corridor while the front desk man walks behind you. You can't help but feel like his eyes are watching you intensely but don't dare to look back at him.

"Stop, right here--" he says abruptly as you reach a door leading to a practice room on your right. "Go right in there and someone will be with you very soon." Confused, you decide to glance at him for more information as to what to do, but he's already vanished back to the front of the building. You shrug, twisting the cold doorknob and walk into the empty practice room. No one appears to be inside.

"Hello?" you call out. No reply. You sit down in one of the empty chairs at the far side of the practice room, which gives you a view of anyone entering the room.

---

Kim Gyuvin and Kim Jiwoong are getting dressed at the dorm. The other members are either at a schedule or out on their off day. The two guys stand in front of the mirror fixing their hair and putting on cologne.

"I can't believe little Gyuvinnie isn't going to be a virgin anymore!" Jiwoong teases.

Gyuvin instinctively punches Jiwoong's arm. "Don't make this fucking weird," he says annoyed. "We can't all be womanizers like you."

Jiwoong laughs. He had a reputation for being quite the ladies' man. It was well-hidden by the company but Jiwoong was frequently out at clubs meeting women, buying them drinks, and taking them home. He was shocked that Dispatch hadn't exposed his ass yet.

"Don't worry Gyub, you'll be just as good as me in no time." He turns to Gyuvin and teasingly messes up his hair. "I'll show you everything you need to know, promise." Jiwoong sticks his tongue out and smirks. "I heard she's super hot too." He sprays two spritzes of cologne on his wrist and gently rubs them together. Jiwoong glances around the room and out the door to make sure the coast is clear and pulls out a small metal flask of vodka from his back pocket.

"Open your mouth, Gyuvin. A little liquid courage"

Gyuvin makes an adorable shocked face before obliging his hyung. He looks Jiwoong in the eyes and opens his mouth wide. Gyuvin had drank alcohol before but not very frequently so it was still a new experience. Jiwoong gently grabs Gyuvin's chin and tilts his head back before pouring the contents of the flask in his mouth.

"Now swallow."

Gyuvin couldn't lie, he liked this dominant side of Jiwoong he hadn't seen much of before. Their dynamic was interesting, the two flirting from time to time. As the alcohol runs down Gyuvin's throat, he begins to feel his inhibitions subside and relax.

"Let's go, I'm ready." Gyuvin smirks at Jiwoong before the two make their way to the van taking them to the company building.

----

You had been waiting in the empty practice room for around ten minutes, fidgeting and nervous, waiting for someone to provide you with some context as to what you were doing there. Suddenly, you hear the door handle and in walk two attractive young men, idols you assume. One is extremely tall and lanky yet strong looking with big eyes and hands just as big. The other is not as tall, but still towers over you, with bleached blonde hair and defined muscles he shows off in a white wife beater. They are both a little intoxicated and laughing hysterically as they stumble into the room. Startled and wanting to appear professional, you stand up from your chair and bow politely at them. The guys' expressions turn serious for a moment as they take in your appearance for the first time. They glance at each other and smirk subtly.

"Hello," you say while bowing to the two guys. "I'm the new assistant. It's nice to meet you."

Jiwoong and Gyuvin can barely contain themselves when they see you. You are an extremely attractive and unique beauty with a petite yet curvy physique that most men (and women) are attracted to.

"Hi," the blonde one begins. "I'm Jiwoong. And this is--"

"Gyuvin." The big eyed boy extends his huge hand to meet yours. You take his hand and gently shake it. It's cold and clammy, and the sheer size of his hand along with the veins running up his forearm is enough to turn you on.

"Nice to meet you both." You smile and the three of you naturally sit down in the practice room chairs. "So, what do you guys need help with today? I mean, they did tell me to wait here until someone tells me what to do." You laugh and your eyes dart between both of the good looking men, both of their gazes fixated on you.

Gyuvin looks at Jiwoong and back at you.

"Well," Jiwoong begins. "Our little friend Gyuvin here has sort of a problem..." He puts his hand on Gyuvin's thigh right above his knee and squeezes and shakes his leg playfully.

Gyuvin's smirk drops from his face as he delivers the same punch to Jiwoong's upper arm from earlier. "What the fuck did I say about not making shit weird..."

You are still naive to what's going on and confused. "Oh, what's your problem Gyuvin? And how can I help?" you ask innocently.

Jiwoong cuts in without letting Gyuvin talk. "Well you see, Gyuvin has never felt a woman's touch. He has no experience with the ladies. Isn't that so sad? So I think we have to fix that, don't you?"

You feel your cheeks get warm and red. You think you have an idea what he means but aren't sure. It would make sense why the job listing made you send pictures and gave hardly any information. Did they bring you here to be used as a fucktoy? Would you allow that to happen? Did you even have a choice?

"I'm sure there's plenty of girls who want you," you say to Gyuvin playing coy.

"Yes, but he needs practice before he gets with those girls." Jiwoong stands up and stands in front of you, still seated in the chair with Gyuvin next to you. "What if he actually likes one of those girls?" Jiwoong squats down to match your eye line. "That's where you come in. Get on the floor."

You were taken aback by his demand but couldn't deny that you were turned on and attracted to both guys. You slowly move down to the floor from the chair without breaking eye contact with Jiwoong. As soon as you're seated on the ground, he aggressively pulls you away from the chairs and lays you down in the middle of the floor. Gyuvin is still seated in the chair shocked at what's happening.

"Here's your first lesson, Gyuvin. Normally you would be on a bed or something but we're working with what we have. You take the girl and you lay her down on the bed or whatever."

Jiwoong pushes you down and holds your hands above your head with one of his hands. "You can be gentle or you can be rough. Just depends what she wants. Something tells me this whore wants to be fucked like a little slut, so that's what we'll go with this time."

Jiwoong begins at your neck just below your ear and starts planting sloppy kisses working his way down. You can feel him leaving marks as he sucks on your skin with his teeth at each point on your skin.

"Don't kiss her on the lips unless you actually like her. Don't let her get the wrong idea." Jiwoong looks to Gyuvin, who is still looking on anxiously. He motions to Gyuvin and says, "now you try."

You were extremely attracted to both men but there was something about Gyuvin. He was so fucking sexy and you were more than happy to show him how to please a woman but didn't want to seem too eager. He looks at Jiwoong who still has your hands pinned above your head, and then looks at you. "Hurry up." Slowly and anxiously Gyuvin moves onto the floor and toward you and Jiwoong. You can tell he is nervous, his cheeks red and sweaty. You look at him expectantly and smile. His innocence made him extremely attractive to you. Jiwoong lets your hands go and moves away. Gyuvin locks eyes with you and then begins to kiss your neck with an unexpected aggressiveness on the opposite side that Jiwoong had already marked up. He was suddenly not so innocent to you anymore. It seemed like he already knew what he was doing. Gyuvin begins to nibble on your ear.

"You're really hot..." he whispers as he continues to bite down your neck and mark you up just as well as Jiwoong did. Gyuvin bites even harder and you feel yourself getting wet as he kisses your collarbone through your white blouse. You can't produce any words and utter just a moan as Gyuvin starts to touch your breasts through your shirt.

"No bra?" Gyuvin says and laughs.

"Wow, what a fucking whore. It's like she knew she was coming here to get fucked."

You are drunk on lust and have a slight degradation kink so you don't mind his cruelty. His words make your pussy even wetter than it already was.

"Let's take this off, you won't be needing it anymore," Jiwoong says and suddently rips your blouse open, the buttons flying all around the room. The motion literally takes your breath away and you gasp. Jiwoong grabs your throat and sits you up slightly with your bare tits now exposed.

"Open your mouth" he demands. You oblige him and part your lips opening wide. He spits in your mouth still gripping your throat. "Swallow it slut." You do as you're told of course.

Both men on either side of you begin to suck on your nipples and squeeze your breasts, Gyuvin on your left and Jiwoong on your right. They are both ferocious and aggressive, using their teeth to nibble on you. Your nipples are super hard as you feel their tongues make circles on them.

Jiwoong pauses for a moment and looks at Gyuvin still holding your breast.

"You seem to be getting the hang of things little bro," he laughs.

"I guess it comes naturally to me," Gyuvin giggles devilishly.

Your nipples are covered in saliva, now hard and bruised from the abuse. But it feels so good. Jiwoong then parts your legs with his hand and runs it up your pantyhose-covered thigh. When he reaches your pussy, he makes a hole with his finger and rips a larger one with both hands.

"No panties either? Oh, you're so fucking slutty... You're just begging to be used as a cum dumpster."

His long fingers slip inside you. "Time to get you ready for what else is going inside of you." You're dripping wet from all of the foreplay and how fucking hot these guys are. He starts with one finger and then adds another. Soon his pointer finger and middle finger are deep inside of you making the "come here" motion inside of you and hitting your g-spot. His long fingers find it easily and you whimper with pleasure.

Jiwoong flips you over onto your side and rolls up your pencil skirt. He rips the hole in your pantyhose even larger. Jiwoong slips his cock inside of you. He's long and extremely girthy. He smashes against your body and your wet pussy easily takes his cock even though it's sizeable. He lifts your leg up to get as deep as possible. You're almost screaming from pleasure as he hits your walls with his dick. To the side Gyuvin takes his cock out of his grey sweatpants and begins stroking it, watching Jiwoong rail you.

"Now give Gyuvin his first blowjob while I fuck you."

You're so excited to take Gyuvin's blowjob virginity. He comes closer and inserts his cock into your mouth. You're good at giving head and fold your lips over your teeth and drool all over him. Gyuvin pushes himself deeper into your throat and you're gagging on it. The combination of both men at once is pure ecstasy.

"Hey Gyuvin, let's fuck this bitch together. Let's really stretch her out."

Gyuvin nods and takes his cock out of your mouth, moving down to your pussy that Jiwoong is already in. Gyuvin's cock is even longer and you're unsure if you'll be able to take it, but you're definitely willing to try and don't have a choice. He puts himself inside of you and a small moan escapes his mouth as he begins to thrust. He matches Jiwoong's rhythm and both men are deep inside you. It's painful as you've never been stretched like this or fucked by two men at once before, but you love being used like this. Your face is smushed against the floor as the force of both guys jackhammering your pussy is almost too much to handle.

"I'm gonna fucking cum in you," Jiwoong grunts.

"Me too," Gyuvin mumbles.

Both men ejaculate deep inside of your pussy. The liquid is hot and uncomfortable. You lay on the practice room floor completely used up and exhausted.

Jiwoong pulls out of you quickly.

"Going to the bathroom. Gyuvin, meet he in the car." He nonchalantly stands up, pulls his pants up, fixes his hair in the mirror, and exits the room.

Gyuvin is still deep inside of you, laying behind you. You're a dirty mess filled with both men's cum. You feel drunk from having been fucked by both men and your body aches from the torture.

Gyuvin unexpectedly pulls you closer to him by your hip. He gently grabs your chin and turns your head toward him. You look into his big brown doe eyes and he gives you the most passionate kiss on the lips, delicately sucking your bottom lip and flicking your tongue with his.

"Thank you. You're the best assistant ever."

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mewhenimanangel · 5 months ago

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cherry, eren jaeger

—synopsis. mikasa’s eighteenth birthday party leads to you and eren becoming a little something more

—chapter 6 ౨ৎ

𝜗𝜚 content!: au-high school, teen romance, black reader, underaged drinking, oral sex, vaginal fingering, make outs

previous ౨ৎ next ౨ৎ

you decided you were going to skip practice today to save energy for mikasa's party.

after eren dropped you home on monday, he texted you all the details of the party and mikasa followed you on your socials.

you shamelessly stalked her page for pictures of eren. you never actually knew what their relationship was, you'd heard that mikasa was apparently adopted by eren's parents but you didn't know if that was entirely true.

you had went shopping yesterday for a white feathery boa and gold sling back heels.

currently, you were sitting at your vanity straightening your hair, you decided to bump the ends to try and match the 1920s hair trends. you'd been at it for 2 hours and you were finally almost done.

once you were done with your makeup you got dressed into the dress you'd shown eren and the heels you bought. you wrapped a gold chain headpiece over your head and put gold bangle cuffs on your arm.

you sprayed some perfume before you heard the doorbell ring. you went downstairs to answer it since no one else was home.

you smiled seeing eren waiting on the porch. he wore a white long sleeve button down with a black bow tie, black dress pants and dress shoes.

you noticed his hair was cut, it was still fluffy and long but no longer ponytail long. "ohhhh, new do?" you reached for his hair. he smiled as your nails combed through his hair. "yeah you like it?"

"i do actually, your barber must love you" he laughed before reaching for your arm.

"you look fucking amazing" he traced his hand down the curve of your waist. "this hair is so classy" he lightly brushed a finger though it before reaching to hold your chin. you subconsciously leaned into his touch "hm why thank you. you look very classy and handsome too"

"are you ready to go?" "yeah, just lemme grab my purse and my phone" you told him. he waited by the stairs as you ran up to grab your things.

once you were back downstairs, his hand found its place on the small of your back as you walked out the front door.

he opened the door to the passenger seat for you as you sat down. it was about a thirty minute drive to the place.

the house in question screamed pure opulence. it was a two story, old money style home with a pathed garden. there were a bunch of cars parked outside the home and lingering down the block.

"jesus whose house is this??"you scoffed. "jean's. he let mikasa throw the party here as some big gesture to ask her out." eren rolled his eyes. "what you don't approve?" you giggled. "not necessarily but it's cool" he shrugged.

"he's kind of an asshole sometimes but i guess he's toned it down a little lately" he scoffed, leaving the car. he opened your door and held your hand as you stepped out.

"thank you kind sir" you wrapped your arm around his. "you're welcome m'lady" eren put on an accent.

you walked up the path to the front entrance of this house. "god how does jean even have a house like this, this is insane" "his dad's the ceo of a stock brokerage company or something like that" eren told you "he makes like 300k a year or something like that" your jaw dropped.

sometimes you forget how rich some of the people at your school were. the school itself was expensive you knew that, but you were attending off scholarship. it's not like you were poor or anything, your situation just did not compare to some of your peers.

"that's wild" you scoffed. eren held open the door for you and you looked around at how beautiful it was inside. people were scattered around the foyer with drinks in hand, there were caterers scurrying to the kitchen and chefs in the back. the room was decorated with golden streamers, clear and white balloons, wine glasses, feathers, hanging lights, everything in the room was white, black and gold. there was a chandelier in the middle of the room, but you were sure that was just jean's regular house decor.

everyone was dressed in 20s attire - girls in long dresses, flapper dresses, feathers, and long jewelry. boys were in vests, suspenders, hats, and suits. you looked to your left to what looked like jean's living room, now without couches and instead tables for all the guests.

mikasa and armin turned around to see you and eren made it and made her way over to the two of you. "ugh finally you're here" she reached her hands out to hug eren from the side as eren dapped armin. "hi" he waved to you and you smiled, returning the wave.

mikasa wore a long champagne colored dress with jewels sewed onto it. her headband had a white feather sticking out of it and she wore a gold silk shawl.

"hey, you look so cute!" she smiled at you. "thanks you look amazing! happy birthday" she hugged you next. "thank you" she smiled. "this is all so.." she cut you off "over the top and unnecessary? i know, jean went overboard" she sighed. "actually i was gonna say beautiful" you laughed.

"well i'll see you guys, sasha just texted me asking us to meet her" she said, grabbing armin's hand.

"oh speaking of, lana told me to text her when we got here" you told eren and he nod his head, not letting go of your hand.

you texted her that you were in the foyer and saw her immediately head your direction with connie.

"oh my god you look delicious i could literally eat you out right now" she said, hugging you. "yo!" connie raised his eyebrows at her. "yall are so gay" he laughed.

"did you guys get drinks yet, jean's got drinks in the back to spike them" she told you. "oh shit don't let y/n get drunk like last time" eren laughed at connie's joke. "what? what happened last time?" you furrowed your eyebrows. "when you were shaking your ass on that table in front of everyone at jean's party" connie told you, lana flicked his hand.

"oh my god i did that?!" you looked at eren and lana. eren just laughed "at least you looked good" he smirked and you rolled your eyes.

"come on, let's go get drinks and then i'll show you guys where we're sitting" lana grabbed your hand as connie and eren followed behind.

lana poured a drink in a glass and handed it to you before showing you to your table. "the food better be good" lana said. "right" you laughed.

armin, mikasa, jean, marco, and sasha joined you all at the table. there was music playing and people dancing, everyone had gotten their food after the chefs opened the kitchen to everyone.

carla and grisha got up to make toasts to mikasa, followed by eren and armin. the music paused for everyone to sing happy birthday to her and take pictures. by now you had 3 shots worth of alcohol in your drinks, thanks to lana.

also thanks to lana, everyone at the table joined the crowd of people in the middle of the room dancing and jumping around.

the alcohol in your system was a comfortable level of drunk, you weren't drunk to the point of a hangover the next day but you were drunk enough that your limbs felt a little loose.

'fancy' by drake was playing on jean's speakers with everyone singing along and dancing. "how are your feet not hurting?" sasha asked you and lana, taking off her heels. "pointe shoes prepared us for this" lana laughed.

eren was with you this time, also a little drunk himself. his bow tie was off and his shirt was unbuttoned three buttons down, your boa and head piece were discarded at the table. he sang along with you, hand refusing to leave your waist as you danced along with lana.

he admired how carefree you were when you got like this, every time you danced it's like you were a different person, or maybe an extension of yourself. you danced so freely and even when you whined your hips you were graceful.

your arms were up in the air as you twirled your hips. eren held onto them as he felt your butt graze against the front of his pants. he tried to ignore it and continue dancing but you kept doing it. his grip on your waist held tighter, he saw the sly smirk on your face as you slightly turned your head.

he felt you push your ass further back on him and he bit his cheek to distract from letting a certain something grow behind you.

"y/n come with me i have to go to the bathroom!" lana dragged your hand, quickly looking for jean's restroom. "i'll be back" you turned to wink at him.

he scoffed and shook his head with a dumb grin on his face. jesus, everything about you just left him wanting more. you really knew how to make him chase.

lana bunched up her dress and sat down on the toilet while you fixed your hair and checked yourself out in the mirror. "broke the seal?" you asked, giggling. "broke the seal...." she sighed.

she moved you over so she could wash her hands. "i have to go send my mom proof of life" she told you. "you can go, just give a second" you told her.

she gave you a kiss on the cheek and left the bathroom.

you dug in your purse for your lip gloss and perfume, freshening yourself up a little bit. you opened the door to go back to everyone. you startled when you saw eren standing off to the side on his phone.

"are you following me?" "maybe" he smiled, leaning up off the wall to stand closer in front of you. "you smell good" you watched his chest rise as he inhaled to smell you again. "mm thank you" you looked up at him. "so why'd you follow me, i was coming back you know...miss me that much?" you grinned.

he just stared at you for a moment "i wanna kiss you again" the want in his voice sounded so earnest. "so do it.." you barely got the full sentence out before his lips were on yours and your back was against the wall. you stopped for a moment before melting into the kiss.

you moved your hands to hold the side of his head, letting your nails run through his shortened hair. eren loved it.

his hand rest on your hip while the other grazed down the side of your body to hold your thigh through the slit of your dress. he held up your leg to rest on his side while his leg bumped forward between your thigh. you groaned feeling his knee brush against your panties.

"been wanting to kiss you again since that night. all i've thought about" eren met your eyes before moving to kiss your neck. you were thankful that this bathroom was concealed by jean's stairs, but you were still worried someone might come over and you put a hand on eren's chest telling him to wait.

eren paused. "i'm worried someone might come over here" you told him.

he looked around for a moment before grabbing your hand and pulling you toward a door at the end of the hallway. he opened the door to find a small study on the other side. you entered, looking around for a moment while eren closed and locked the door.

eren grabbed your arm and you slipped your purse off your shoulder letting it land on the desk. you threw your arms around his neck and pressed your lips back on his. he walked you backwards until the back of your thighs bumped against the desk. he eased you to sit down, placing himself in between your legs.

he kissed down your neck and across your shoulders, leaving a deep red mark on your clavicle. now you'd have to cover that up, but it was worth it.

he looked up at you for the go ahead as he pulled the strap of your dress down your shoulder. you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and nod your head.

his eyes were full of lust with a sly grin on his face as he pulled the top of your dress down, revealing your bare tits. "damn, how are you this perfect?" he seemed a little hesitant to put his hands on you, hands slowly easing up your waist so you grabbed his hands and put them on your boobs.

"don't be shy, i won't break. i want you" you whispered against his lips before kissing him. your breath hitched when you felt his calloused thumb rubbing against your nipple. he gave you one last peck on your lips before moving to put your tit in his mouth.

your eyes closed and you hummed in pleasure. this was the first time anyone else has ever touched you like this. you moaned as you held the back of his head in your hand. you brought your hands to his chest, beginning to unbutton his shirt. his stomach and chest were toned but note over muscly, he had little freckles and a beauty mark. you let your hands trace over his body.

you looked down to see there was another mark on your boob, just above your nipple. god he was really setting you up.

"eren...i want more" you whined. you could feel yourself getting wet, panties clinging to your vagina. all you wanted was his mouth on you. "hm? what do you need pretty girl?"

you held his hand and trailed it down to your panties. "need you right here" you had a teasing grin on your face as you held his hand over your clothed clit. "anything you want baby" he smirked.

he moved your dress, bunching it up at your waist as he brought your ass closer to the edge of the desk.

he kissed you again as his arm dipped between your bodies, rubbing a finger along your slit through the fabric of your panties. you moaned as your lips smashed together.

he reached for the waistband of your panties and began to slowly pull them off of you. you eagerly lifted your hips to help him get them off.

"you still good princess?" you knew he was asking if you were still up for it, which you most definitely were. you nod your head "i wanna hear you say it" "yes eren, i want you to fuck me"

hearing those sultry words come out of your mouth make eren's head spin. if he wasn't hard before - which he was, he was definitely hard now.

he gathered your slick on his finger before slowly pushing his middle finger inside you. you immediately let out a string of moans as he began to curl his finger inside you. it was much longer and way more pleasurable than awkwardly trying to angle your own fingers just right. you felt your face getting warm.

he add his ring finger into the mix, curling and pumping them inside you just right. you held on his shoulders tight as your moans and hums filled the room. thankful for the music playing outside the room, you knew you weren't being too loud.

"feel good princess?" he kissed your forehead. "so good" you groaned, voice light and airy.

"want you to go down on me ren...wanna feel your mouth" you looked at him, eyes pleading.

eren felt his cheeks warm and knew he was definitely blushing. god, how'd you manage to make him blush. he was almost nervous.

"i've got you baby" he kissed you before lowering himself to his knees in front of you. he anchored his hands on your thighs, spreading open your legs.

he kissed down your thighs until he was face to face with your core. he pressed light feathery kisses against your lips before licking a stripe along your folds. you shuddered, you swore you could've came off that alone.

you got whiplash from how quick eren want from kitten licks to eating you like you were his last meal.

he sucked against your puffy clit, face practically buried in you. he licked his tongue in and out of your hole, before swirling it against your clit too.

his soft tongue worked over your folds, it's like he was trying to explore every crevice of you with his tongue. you couldn't help but grind your hips against his face, following the flow of how he ate you out. a moan ripped out of you as you felt his tongue go inside you again, you leaned back to anchor yourself on the desk with one hand while the other gripped his hair.

"fuck ren~ feels so.." you couldn't even get your sentence out when you felt him press his thumb against your clit, continuing to work his tongue over you.

you looked down to see him looking back up at you, eyes filled with lust and pride.

the combination of his thumb circling your nerves and his tongue prodding against your entrance had your mind blank. nothing you'd ever done on yourself felt this good.

your hand gripped his hair tighter and he let out a groan that sent goosebumps over your body.

the knot in your lower stomach grew tighter an tighter and before you knew it, you were cumming. your chest rose and fell as you held yourself up on your arms, head thrown back.

eren lapped every drop before coming to his feet again. "god you're....so fucking good at that..." you were practically out of breath. "you taste just as good as you look princess" he kissed you again and you could taste yourself against his lips.

the moment was over though when your phone began ringing. you sighed before reaching to answer it. it was lana, you put her on speaker, your body was so worked out you didn't feel like holding up your phone.

"dude where are you? i thought i was taking you home??" her voice was frantic. "yeah you are just give me a few minutes. i'll meet you outside" you told her. "why do you sound so out of breath, were you off running a marathon or something"

you looked at the teasing look on eren's face and rolled your eyes. "okay bye me and connie will meet you out front" she said before hanging up.

"sorry i didn't you know..help you out.." you looked down at the tent in his pants. "nah don't worry about it. just glad i could make you feel good" he kissed you. "and you definitely did. that was my first time getting eaten out, my first time doing anything actually" you admitted.

eren's eyebrows raised "for real?" you nod your head. "why didn't you tell me? that wasn't even my best best work for real. let's go. round two" he peppered kisses on your face making you giggle.

"lana's gonna be irritated if i keep her waiting" you said, pulling the sleeves up on your dress, eren rolled his eyes. "but don't worry, i definitely want there to be a part two" you whispered in his ear before leaving the room.

#nia writes ࿐#attack on titan #black reader #eren jaeger x black reader #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #attack on titan characters #mikasa ackerman #jean kirstein #annie leonhart #armin arlert #eren jaeger smut #smut #eren jeager x you #eren jeager fluff #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren yeager

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nayziiz · 9 months ago

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Team Dynamics | LN4

Summary: To celebrate the launch of their 2024 car for the upcoming F1 season, McLaren hosts a masquerade gala event that sees two souls connect and lead to a whirlwind romance. Unfortunately, the pair realise soon after that they are to work together quite closely after they agreed it would only be a one-night thing.

Warnings: Smut, alcohol, one night stand, unprotected sex

Pairing: Gemma (I don't like writing with Y/N or reader) x Lando Norris

Series Masterlist

PART 3

In the weeks leading up to the first race of the season, Lando finds himself grappling with the persistent presence of Gemma in his thoughts. Her green eyes linger in his dreams, and the echo of her laughter plays in his mind when he's out with friends. Despite their agreement to keep things casual and without strings, Lando can't help but entertain fleeting fantasies about what it would be like if Gemma were more than just a one-night stand.

The memory of their night together lingers, the allure of her company and the connection they shared leaving an indelible mark on his psyche. He wonders about the possibility of Gemma being more than just a passing moment in his life. The prospect of having her around as a girlfriend begins to stir a longing within him, a desire for something more profound than their initial agreement.

For Gemma, the morning after their night together was marked by a quiet departure from Lando's penthouse. She slips back into the dress from the previous night, leaving his clothes neatly folded on the coffee table. In a subtle yet deliberate gesture, she folds her panties and places them on top of his clothes—a silent reminder of their shared intimacy. They part ways without exchanging numbers, and Lando realises that he didn't even catch her last name.

As Lando wakes up to an empty room, the disappointment is palpable, tempered only by the acknowledgment of the agreement they made. The absence of contact details and the mystery surrounding Gemma's identity create a void, a lingering question mark that tugs at his curiosity. Yet, he respects the unspoken terms of their encounter, acknowledging that some connections are meant to be fleeting, existing in the realm of memories rather than in the unfolding chapters of his life.

“Mate, you’re so distracted.” Max, Lando’s best friend, comments as they sit in Lando’s Monaco apartment playing video games.

“I think I’ve met the girl of my dreams.” Lando responds.

“Just because she slept with you?” Max chuckles.

“No, not because of that. You didn’t see her. She was stunning, mate. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. And, she’s funny, like genuinely funny without even trying. You should have seen how unimpressed she was with the penthouse, like it didn’t bother her.” Lando explains to his friend who pauses their game.

“Why don’t you just ask her out on a date?” Max suggests.

“We agreed for it to be just a one night thing.” Lando sighs as he throws his head back into the couch. “I don’t even have her number.”

“You’re so stupid.” Max comments as he pulls out his phone and opens his Instagram app. “What did you say her name was?”

“Gemma.” Lando replies.

As Max opens the McLaren Instagram feed and navigates to the following list, Lando's curiosity is piqued. The search for Gemma's name yields only two results. Max clicks on the first profile, and after a quick glance, Lando shakes his head, indicating that it's not the Gemma he's looking for.

They move on to the second profile, and as Lando inspects the screen, a subtle flicker of recognition crosses his face. Max hands over his phone, and Lando takes it in his hand, scrolling through the girl's feed. Intrigued, he clicks on a post, hoping to find more clues about the enigmatic Gemma and perhaps uncover a connection that goes beyond the one unforgettable night they shared. The screen illuminates with snippets of her life, offering a glimpse into the world that Gemma inhabits outside the confines of that memorable evening.

“This is her.” Lando breathes and keeps scrolling.

As Lando scrolls through Gemma's social media feed, he's met with a mosaic of her life. The racing gear and karting photos stand out prominently, depicting a passionate and skilled side of Gemma that resonates with his own racing world. The adrenaline-filled snapshots capture her in her element, surrounded by the machinery and thrill that defines the racing lifestyle.

Interwoven with the racing theme are numerous stand-up paddling photos, showcasing Gemma's versatility and love for outdoor activities. The images paint a picture of a dynamic and adventurous spirit, someone who embraces challenges and finds joy in the simplicity of nature.

Beyond the racetrack and the paddleboard adventures, there are glimpses of Gemma's social life. Posts with friends at bars and restaurants capture the moments of camaraderie and shared laughter. Family also holds a special place in her life, evident in the photos celebrating birthdays of loved ones. The snapshots offer a multifaceted view of Gemma—a racer, an adventurer, a socialite, and a family-oriented individual.

As Lando delves into Gemma's digital world, the distance between them seems to shrink, unveiling layers of her personality that go beyond their brief encounter. Each post becomes a fragment of a larger narrative, and Lando finds himself drawn deeper into the mystery and allure of Gemma's life, contemplating the possibility of reconnecting with her beyond the confines of a single night.

“She is quite pretty.” Max concludes as he tries to sneak a glance at the screen.

“Gemma Mayfield.” Lando adds. “I didn’t even get her last name, if I’m being honest.”

“Why don’t you follow her and see what happens?” Max suggests.

Lando nods and pulls up Gemma’s Instagram account on his own phone and clicks on the follow button.

As Gemma enjoys brunch with her girlfriends, the animated chatter and laughter fill the air. Amidst the delightful ambiance, her phone emits a soft notification sound, capturing her attention. She unlocks her phone, curious about the interruption, and opens Instagram to find a new follower notification.

To her surprise, she sees Lando's name on the screen, signalling that he has just started following her. The realisation brings a spark of intrigue to Gemma's eyes, a subtle but undeniable acknowledgment of the connection forged during that unforgettable night. The familiar features of Lando's profile picture and the digital confirmation of his interest draw her into a moment of contemplation, wondering what this unexpected digital connection might signify and where it could lead.

Her friends, oblivious to the Instagram notification, continue their lively brunch conversation as Gemma, with a hint of a smile playing on her lips, delves into the exploration of this newfound connection that bridges the gap between their worlds, even if only in the virtual realm.

“Why is Lando Norris following you?” Ashley, Gemma’s friend, asks as she peers at Gemma’s phone.

“We met last week at the gala.” Gemma explains and locks her screen again.

“A week ago and he still remembers your name?” Ashley retorts.

“Don’t be silly.” Gemma chuckles.

“Clearly you made an impression.” Her friend comments as they sip their mimosas.

“It’s probably just my panties on his dresser reminding him about me, nothing else.”

“Excuse me?” Ashley gasps. “Your panties?”

“We hooked up. Nothing special.” Gemma shrugs.

“You slept with Lando Norris, the Lando Norris.” Ashley states in disbelief.

“It’s not a big deal. We were drunk and fooling around. We said it would be a one night thing.” Gemma explains.

“Yeah, one night thing, but now he’s all up on your Instagram and probably looking at all your posts so he can see you again.” Ashley counters.

“Is that weird? For like a hook-up to follow you on Instagram?” Gemma wonders.

“It's a little weird, but maybe he likes you and is trying to get your attention.” Ashley responds. “Follow him back and see what happens.”

“Did you forget about the fact that I’ve just come out of a relationship? I can’t open myself up to someone only to get hurt again.” Gemma counters.

“Babe, Lucas never loved you the way you deserved. Maybe it’s time to acknowledge the signs that are very much there and take a leap of faith.” Ashley suggests.

Their conversation is interrupted by Gemma's phone ringing from an unknown number. Excusing herself from the table, Gemma heads to a quieter spot to answer the call, leaving Ashley with a lingering sense of curiosity about the unfolding dynamics between Gemma and the famous Formula 1 driver.

“Gemma speaking, hello.” She speaks into the phone.

“Hi, Gemma. This is Zak Brown.” Zak replies. “I hope you’re well.”

“Mr Brown. I’m doing well, thank you. I hope you are too.”

“Oh, I could be better. That’s why I’m calling.” Zak states.

“How can I assist, sir?” Gemma asks, confused and still surprised by the caller.

“One of Oscar’s trackside data analysts has unfortunately fallen ill and won’t be able to work for the foreseeable future. We’ve heard some great reviews on your work back at the factory and were wondering if you’d be up to join us in the paddock starting in Bahrain?” Zak proposes. “With all travel and accommodation costs covered. And, a salary increase, of course.”

“That’s very unexpected.” Gemma breathes.

“I thought it would be. I’ll have my assistant email you the contract and you can let us know what your decision is, but we’ll need to know by tomorrow morning so we can make the necessary arrangements.” Zak explains.

“Thank you, I’ll keep an eye out for that.” Gemma agrees.

They end the phone call and Gemma returns to her friends. Ashley shoots her a questioning look.

“They want me to work trackside.” Gemma tells Ashley.

“See, signs. Everywhere. Just signs. This is your time to shine, Gem-bug.” Ashley responds, her excitement evident.

When Gemma returns to her apartment, she grabs her laptop and easily finds the email with the contract in her inbox. She prints it out and reads through it. After pacing around her living room for a few hours reading and rereading the contract, she digitally signs the contract and emails it back to Zak’s assistant.

The following morning, she receives her plane tickets and itinerary for the Bahrain Grand Prix just a week away. She sits on the couch in her small apartment and realises that she’ll have to face Lando at some point and decides to follow him back on Instagram. She knows it was her idea for their exchange to be a one night thing only, but not even her ex-boyfriend was so kind and gentle with her like Lando was. She could still feel his fingers and his kisses on her skin when doing simple things around her apartment like washing up the dishes or doing the laundry. For the first time that night, she was looked after as opposed to being the one looking after those around her.

#lando norris #formula 1 #lando norris fic #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #mclaren #mclaren f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 fluff

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casparscunttt16 · 1 year ago

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"You're jealous" |Stiles Stilinski|Oneshot

Jealous!Stiles x Reader.

Summary: In which your friend Javier is tutoring you for an upcoming quiz in your Spanish class leading you to be spending more time with him rather than your boyfriend Stiles.

Warnings: Jealous Stiles, slight arguing.

(Gif not mine)

I walk through the busy hallways of Beacon Hills High, rushing to my locker hoping I can be quick enough to not get caught in a group of students. I make it to my locker and put away my books and binders, then heading down the hallway towards the cafeteria. "Hey wait up!" I hear a familiar voice and I turn to see my friend Javier. "Oh hi Javi" I smile at the messy haired boy, and pull him into a hug.

"Hey do you wanna start studying now? We can definitely do so in the cafeteria if you're okay with that" he chirped with a toothy grin. "Of course whatever works for you works for me" I respond as we walk down the hallway side by side. "Thanks for tutoring me by the way I really appreciate" I add on. "The least I can do for you helping me snag a date with Danny" he chuckles. "Sooo how's that going?" I drag out.

Javier tells me how it's going with him and Danny and I smile listening to the details of how the date went, how things are between them, if they'll be anymore dates in the future etc. We walk into the cafeteria and sit at a table, Javier places his bag on the table and takes out his laptop, flash cards, highlighters and other things for studying. About 10 minutes into the study session my boyfriend walks over to the two of us.

"Hey baby" he coos hugging me from behind and resting his head on mine. "Hi babe" I say turning around and kissing his lips. "Did you wanna go out to lunch with me and Scott?" he asks casually because on most days thats what we did. "No I can't I'm studying with Javier, maybe after school we can hangout?" I suggest raising an eyebrow. "No yeah that's fine" He smiles and kisses my forehead then walking off to Scott.

"Well isn't he cute" Javier compliments "How long have you two been a thing?" he asks as he picks up the flash cards. "He's very cute, but almost two years. A year and nine months next month" Javier smiles at my answer then parts his lips to speak. "Okay let's get started on fill in the blank, I think that'd be easiest".

Throughout the remainder of the week I was hanging out with Javier in and out of school to prepare for this Spanish quiz, it'll be about 70 percent of our grade because it's about everything we've learned this quarter so this was not something I wanted to take lightly y'know? Today was Thursday and the quiz was on Friday. It was the end of the school day and Javier walked me out to the parking lot. "You're going to do great, girl don't even stress" Javier reassures me then pulling me into a tight hug. "Thanks Javi, but you're literally crushing me" I squirm as he laughs. "Sorry" He smiles before we part ways.

I see Stiles in the distance standing by his jeep as he always did to take me home. I walk over to him eagerly. "Hi Stiles" I kiss his cheek and he looks down at me and rolls his eyes. "What? Did I do something" I ask confused. "Why don't you go kiss Javier since you seem to love his company" he says jealousy dripping off his tongue as he pouts slightly. "Stiles you do know he's been tutoring me right?" I scoff in a bit of irritation as I get in the passenger seat and buckles myself in. "Yeah but it's so painfully obvious he's into you and you're oblivious to it" he says through gritted teeth, tightening his grip on the steering wheel as we pull out of the parking lot and begin driving on the main road. "Stiles he is not into me." I respond in a flat tone, the car fills with silence between us for a few minutes, the radio in the background quietly. "You're jealous" I state in a firm yet questioning tone.

Part 2?

#teen wolf stiles #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #teenwolf #stiles stilinski x you #stiles x you #no use of y/n #jealous stiles #jealous

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ichore · 1 year ago

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synopsis: hot july night, nanami kento's birthday, reader and the birthday boy accidentally got drunk, and the night got steamy

tags: nanami kento x fem/afab!reader, consumption of alcohol, pp riding, reader is a mess, kento is a mess, not proofread

"One more shot should be fine. I don't even feel tipsy at all." you said, and oh, how wrong you were. The drunknen numbness creeped its way into your head like a rush when you finally decided to stand up, your hand immediately searching for something to hold into - which in this case was your coworker and friend's muscular shoulder. "Sorry, give me a second."

"Take your time." he said, his flushed cheeks turned to you as his golden eyes watched you with a slight worry until you found your balance with a deep sigh. He also stood up, ignoring the feeling of the alcohol turning his mind into haze as he buttoned in his suit. "I cannot let you go home all by yourself in this state."

"What state?" you slurred. " 'M fine"

"Mhm" he hummed, watching you walk towards the door of the crowded bar in, what you thought was a straight line, but that could not have been further from the truth. His calloused fingers found the curve of your hip before he helped you out on the door, and his hold stayed on you as you both got hit by the humid, early July air of the night.

"But it's your birthday." you said in protest one more time when he told you he would call a taxi for the two of you and he would accompany you all the way to your home. Suddenly, a stench of guilt grabbed at your heart for making him waste his time and money on you.

"Exactly. That's why I don't want to spend the night worrying whether you got home safe or not." He mumbled as the hand that held you before gently caressed your back before he completely began to focus on calling that taxi while he tried his best to sound as sober as possible. Your drunken gaze lingered on him without shame; noticed the tendons of his forearm flexing under his suit as he tugged at his tie that he no doubt found too tight as the summer air made him sweat. Then why not take off the suit? You thought, before realizing that his other arm was full with your coat and bag that you would've definitely left at the bar if it weren't for him.

"Kento..." you whispered and waited until his eyes left his phone screen and looked at you. "You're so... good to me."

This made him stare at you in silence for such a while that you felt your cheeks flush from the embarrassment, although you had not seen any malice in the golden hue of his eyes. On the contrary, it appeared as if he slipped into another drunken stage while he took in every bit of detail of your face. He finally said, "There's no reason not to. I thoroughly enjoy your company."

There was a softness on his features you had never seen before; the yellow light of the street warm in his dark pupils, his golden hair partially messy from the humid air, the fullness of his lips curving into a light simper. When he closed the distance between you two, your heart fluttered in hopes you get to taste his smile against your own lips, but to your calamity, he merely guided you into the backseat of the car you didn't even notice arriving.

The noise of the lively city got silenced as the car door closed. The AC and the coldness of the window against your temple made you feel a tad better, chased away the weak feeling nausea you had lingering in the back of your throat. You instinctively grab Kento's hand, which had been resting between the two of you, when you feel the slumber dull the city lights and your eyelashes began to feel heavy. His other reached for your cheek as he moved closer to you, gently leading your weary head to rest on the muscle of his shoulder as his temple rested against the soft of your hair.

The smell of your own perfume caressing your nostrils was the next thing you remembered. Your back laying against your bed, one of your arms covering your eyes from the bright bedroom light as someone was struggling with the buckle of your heels at your ankle. Suddenly self-aware, you jumped a little. Your figure completely jolted up to the middle of your bed, nearly kicking away the face you finally recognized as Kento's.

"I only wanted to take your shoes off before leaving you to rest. Apologies." he said, holding his hands up.

"No, it's not that... I..." you struggled with your words, already feeling tomorrow's headache of hungover creeping in. "I just didn't know you know my address and everything."

"Shoko was kind enough to tell me the address, and the keys to your apartment were right in your coat." he explained, and you already knew Shoko was either going to bomb you with numerous questions about Kento taking you home or she was going to pretend like nothing happened which would've made you spill everything all by yourself like a river streaming down on the mountainside.

"May I?" Kento asked, glancing at your shoes before you nodded in approval. You watched his hands take it off you with gentle precision, realizing that his struggle with the buckle was merely because he did not want to wake you, although you could see it in his eyes that now you were the more sober one. Your naked foot rested against the warmth of his thigh as he got rid of your other shoe for you, his blond hair completely down against his sweaty forehead as his meaty fingers held your ankle as if it was made of glass. Your heart began to relentlessly pound against your ribcage when your toes felt the width of the head of his shaft, so he keeps it on the left, you thought and warmth began to swell in between your thighs.

"Kento," you breathed.

"Hm?"

"I want you."

It felt like eternity as his gaze lifted up to meet your eyes, his body frozen as you could see him calculate whether this was a good idea or the worst mistake he could ever make. Before he could even voice an answer, his body betrayed him as his pants began to grow tight, and the fabric became wet with his precum against your foot.

He could count seven reasons why he wanted to devour right at that instant, and he counted three why he should have never even been in your room, but all calculations evaporated when you suddenly pulled him by his shirt to collapse his lips against yours. His nape was wet with sweat against your arm as you hugged him, your tongue parting his mouth to deepen your kiss that makes him hum. You heard a curse between his grunts as he rolled up your dress, and your panty-clad wetness grinded against his bulge as your legs trapped him by his waist.

Leaving the kiss, a sigh left you when you felt his breath hot against the soft crook of your neck while you unbuttoned his shirt and unbuckled his belt for him. His hands traveled from the thickness of your ass, to the curve of your hips to the suppleness of your breasts to the soft features of your face; he explored every nook and crany of you with his fingers, fondled you at the spots that made you breathless with pleasure. He was so good to you, as if you were the greatest treasure he could've ever touched.

"Let me ride you." you nearly moaned as his naked dick flicked against your still clad bud of clit. Releasing him from the prison of your legs, he said thank you with a peck on your lips before his weight fell against your bed next to you. He let you remove his clothes for him, his pale cheeks red under his brown gaze that never left your sight and he returned the smile you gave him when you were both finally naked with you on top of him, your palms against the muscles of his bust.

His cock twitched with excitement when a drop of your arousal landed on his skin. Gods, he didn't even eat you out and you were so wet and eager for him. His hands found your hips when you lifted yourself above him, one of your hands holding the thickness of his dick up against your entrance. Kento's mouth stayed agape as he watched your pussy swallow the entirety of his shaft, your spongy walls teasing him at all the right spots.

When you began to rock your hips, he fell apart; his fingers holding onto you for dear life, sweat dotting his furrowed brows as he let his groans mindlessly leave his open lips. When you kissed him, he welcomed you with fervor; his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair as his other hand grabbed the flesh of your butt to keep you in place as he pounded into you from under.

"Fuck, you're so good, too good." he admitted as the rhythm of his thrusts became hazy. "Such a good girl making me cum so fast." The nickname made you moan against his skin while you felt the tip of his dick harden inside you. His dirty mouth sent shivers of pleasure down your spine, his deep voice sending you over the edge as you let yourself fall down against his entire length, your fingers playing with your clit as the flux of cum filled your insides up.

"Well, happy birthday, I suppose," you said, half laughing as his cock still twitched inside you and the musclebound man laid under you with his sweaty chest moving rapidly with his tired breathing. A chuckle left him when he finally managed to open his eyes, his vision still blurry from the alcohol and the orgasm, but he found the curve of your precious smile more endearing and sweet than any birthday cake.

"It is the happiest of birthdays, indeed."

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #nanami kento #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #shikari writes

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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Big Train managers earn bonuses for greenlighting unsafe cars

Tomorrow (November 16) I'll be in Stratford, Ontario, appearing onstage with Vass Bednar as part of the CBC IDEAS Festival. I'm also doing an afternoon session for middle-schoolers at the Stratford Public Library.

Almost no one knows this, but last June, a 90-car train got away from its crew in Hernando, MS, rolling three miles through two public crossings, a ghost train that included 47 potentially explosive propane cars. The "bomb train" neither crashed nor derailed, which meant that Grenada Railroad/Gulf & Atantic didn't have to report it.

This is just one of many terrifying near-misses that are increasingly common in America's hyper-concentrated, private equity-dominated rail sector, where unsafe practices dominate and whistleblowers face brutal retaliation for coming forward to regulators.

These unsafe practices – and the corporate policies that deliberately gave rise to them – are documented in terrifying, eye-watering detail in a deeply reported Propublica story by Topher Sanders, Jessica Lussenhop,Dan Schwartz, Danelle Morton and Gabriel L Sandoval:

https://www.propublica.org/article/railroad-safety-union-pacific-csx-bnsf-trains-freight

It's a tale of depraved indifference to public safety, backstopped by worker intimidation. The reporting is centered on railyard maintenance inspectors, who are charged with writing up "bad orders" to prevent unsafe railcars from shipping out. As private equity firms consolidated rail into an ever-dwindling number of companies, these workers face supervisors who are increasingly hostile to these bad orders.

It got so alarming that some staffers started carrying hidden digital recorders, so they could capture audio of their bosses illegally ordering them to greenlight railcars that were too unsafe for use. The article features direct – and alarming – quotes, like supervisor Andrew Letcher, boss of the maintenance crews at Union Pacific's Kansas City yard saying, "If I was an inspector on a train I would probably let some of that nitpicky shit go."

Letcher – and fellow managers for other Tier 1 railroads quoted in the piece – aren't innately hostile to public safety. They are quite frank about why they want inspectors to "let that nitpicky shit go." As Letcher explains, "The first thing that I’m getting questioned about right now, every day, is why we’re over 200 bad orders and what we’re doing to get them down."

In other words, corporate rail owners have ordered their supervisors to reduce the amount of maintenance outages on the rail lines, but have not given them additional preventative maintenance budgets or crew. These supervisors warn their employees that high numbers of bad orders could cost them their jobs, even lead to the shutdown of the car shops where inspectors are prone to pulling dangerous cars out of service.

It's a ruthless form of winnowing. Gresham's Law holds that "bad money drives out good" – in an economy where counterfeit money circulates, people preferentially spend their fake money to get it out of their hands, until all the money in circulation is funny money. This is the rail safety equivalent: simply fire everyone who reports unsafe conditions and all your railcars will be deemed safe, with the worst railcars shipped out first. A market for lemons – except these aren't balky used sedans, they're unsafe railcars full of toxic chemicals or explosive propane.

When cataclysmic rail disasters occur – like this year's East Palestine derailment – the rail industry reassures us that this is an isolated incident, pointing to the system's excellent overall safety record. But that record is a mirage, because the near-misses don't have to be reported. Those near-misses are coming more frequently, as the culture of profit over safety incurs a mounting maintenance debt, filling America's rails with potential "bomb cars."

Rail mergers and other forms of deregulated, anything-goes capitalism are justified by conservative economists who insist that "incentives matter," and that the profit motive provides the incentive to improve efficiency, leading to lower costs and better service. But the incentive to externalize risk, kick the can down the road, and capture regulators rarely concerns the "incentives matter" crowd.

Here's an incentive that matters. Rail managers' bonuses – as much as a fifth of their take home pay – are only paid if the trains they oversee run on time. Inspectors have recorded their managers admitting that they have quotas – a maximum number of bad orders their facility may produce, irrespective of how much unsafe rolling stock passes through the facility.

Inspectors have caught their managers removing repair order tags from cars they've flagged as unsafe. Inspectors will log orders in a database, only to have the record mysteriously deleted, or marked as serviced when no service has occurred. Some inspectors have seen the same cars in their yard with the same problems, and repeatedly flagged them without any maintenance being performed before they're shipped out again.

Former managers from Union Pacific, CSX and Norfolk Southern told Propublica that they operated in an environment where safety reports were discouraged, and that workers who filed these reports were viewed as "complainers." Workers furnished Propublica with recordings of rail managers berating them for reporting persistent unsafe conditions the Federal Railroad Administration. Other workers from BNSF said that they believed that their bosses were told when they called the company's "confidential" work-safety tipline, setting them up for retaliation by bosses who'd falsified safety reports.

Whistleblowers who seek justice at OSHA are stymied by long delays, and while switching their cases to court can win them cash settlements, these do not get recorded on the company's safety record, which allows the company to go on claiming to be a paragon of safety and prudence.

The culture of retaliation is pervasive, which explains how the 47-cars worth of propane on the "bomb train" that rolled unattended over three miles of track never made the news. There is a voluntary Close Call Reporting System (operated by NASA!) where rail companies can report these disasters. Not one of America's Class 1 rail companies participate in it.

After the East Palestine disaster, Transport Secretary Pete Buttigieg pushed the rail companies to join, but a year later, none have. It's part of an overall pattern with Secretary Buttigieg, who has prodigious, far-reaching powers under USC40 Section 41712(a), which allow him to punish companies for "unfair and deceptive" practices or "unfair methods of competition":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

Buttigieg can't simply hand down orders under 41712(a) – to wield this power, he must follow administrative procedures, conducting market studies, seeking comment, and proposing a rule. Other members of the Biden administration with similar powers, like FTC chair Lina Khan, arrived in office with a ranked-priority list of bad corporate conduct and immediately set about teeing up rules to give relief to the American public.

By contrast, Buttigieg's agency has done precious little to establish the evidentiary record to punish the worst American companies under its remit. His most-touted achievement was to fine five airlines for saving money by cancelling their flights and stranding their passengers. But of the five airlines affected by Buttigieg's order, four were not US companies. The sole affected US carrier was Spirit airlines, with 2% of the market. The Big Four US airlines – who have a much worse record than the ones that were fined – were not affected at all:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/ftc-noncompete-airline-flight-cancellation-buttigieg/

Rather than directly regulating the US transportation sector, Buttigieg prefers exacting nonbinding promises from them (like the Tier 1 rail companies' broken promise to sign up to the Close Call Reporting System). Under his leadership, the Federal Railroad Agency has proposed weakening rail safety standards, rescinding an order to improve the braking systems on undermaintained, mile-long trains carrying potentially deadly freight:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/11/dinah-wont-you-blow/#ecp

The US transportation system is accumulating a terrifying safety debt, behind a veil of corporate secrecy. It badly demands direct regulation and close oversight.

If you are interested in rail safety, I strongly recommend this episode of Well There's Your Problem, "a podcast about engineering disasters, with slides" – you will laugh your head off and then never sleep again:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0BMQTdYXaH8

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/15/safety-third/#all-the-livelong-day

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