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stefanmikaleson1864 · 3 years ago

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I’ll Protect You Part Four !

A/N: This is the last chapter I hope everyone enjoys it !!! If you like my work please comment like and reblog it means a lot to see interactions on my work !!!

Jay’s POV

Y/N was sleeping and I just held her hand . Knowing she was back and she was safe it was such a relief

. I felt like the weight of the world was lifted off my shoulders. Will had to go the ER needed him and there wasn’t much to do up here.

I kept checking my phone to see if there was any updates. Which there wasn’t and it was making me antsy.

Part of me wanted to get out there and catch these guys myself but I didn’t want to leave Y/N when she woke up I didn’t want her to be alone.

I knew they were on their way to get these sons of bitches but it was still hard not knowing why not to mention the case we had was pretty shaky.

Making the murder chargers stick was going to be rough. I know we had the money they were getting from the rehab but not knowing why it was hard to prove it was criminal.

This whole case was nothing but hard. There were no clear lines about what's going on and this is why they're doing it

. I was hoping when Y/N wakes up she could explain more of what was happening.

She could explain anything leading up to now and even what happened yesterday when she was kidnapped.

A couple of hours had past and Y/N was still sleeping; she needed her rest. I was sitting on the chair next to her half paying attention to the television.

Next thing you know there was a knock on the door.

I sat up and then the door opened and it was Hailey and Voight coming in. They walked in and stood at the bottom of Y/N’s bed.

I instantly grabbed Y/N”s hand and squeezed it.

“Hey how is she doing what did the doctor say” Hailey asked

“She’s okay she had low blood sugar and was in a little shock so she;s just resting now” I said

“Finally some good news that’s a relief” Voight said

“What do we know what’s going on” I asked

“We got them there down in the cage” Voight said

“I wanna go and see them are they talking” I asked

“No there not saying anything denied being the ones who kidnapped Y/N said they found her there and that’s it” Hailey said

“Well there lying Y/N ID them that’s enough to make the kidnapping case stick so we send them to county and make them sweat” I said

“Jay all we know is Y/N said that’s them we don’t have enough to make a kidnapping case stick she could have just saw them in the building and that’s it” Voight said

“Yeah that should be plenty and we have made more with less” I said

“I get it Jay I really get how your feeling right now but we have to make this right for Y/N we can’t let them get away with this” Voight said

“So we have to wait for Y/N to wake up and we get her whole story we do a line up and then we go from there make it air tight so these guys go away for life” Hailey said

“Yeah Yeah I guess do we have anything else” I asked

“No were right where we are the only one who can maybe make sense of this is Y/N” Hailey said.

“This whole thing doesn’t make sense has anyone talked to the people at the rehab find out what’s going on there” I asked

“No we were headed over there now we just wanted to come by and make sure Y/N was okay and then were going to talk to the owner” Hailey said.

“Okay good you guys go I’ll call when Y/N wakes up” I said

“Don’t worry Jay we are going to get them I promise” Voight said

“Yeah thanks” I said

Hailey walked over and placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it and I smiled up at her. They got left after that leaving no answers or nothing.

A few minutes later I heard a small groan coming from Y/N and she was waking up.

“Hey hey there take it easy” I told her

“My Head hurts” She said opening up her eyes and looking around.

“Your going to be okay thank god your awake” I said to her

“How long was I out” She asked

“Not long you slept overnight, it's the next day now” I said placing my hand on her face. Rubbing her cheek with my finger.

“It’s early in the morning around 7 am” I told her.

“Are you okay” She asked me

“I’m the one that’s supposed to be worried about you, not the other way around” I said to her.

“You looked pretty messed up you got bags under your eyes” Y/N said reaching up and touching my face.

I laughed and she started laughing too.

“Ouch that hurts i got feelings you know” I said to her

“Awe I’m sorry you look so nice with your racoon eyes” She said smiling.

“Yeah okay thank you so much for that” I said to her laughing.

Y/N then tried to sit up and grabbed my hand to help her pull up.

“Hey there slow down be careful” I said to her helping her sit up carefully.

“I’m okay i’m good” She said

“Hey dad can i ask you something” she asked

“Yeah of course anything” I said to her.

“Why did they take me did you catch them” She asked

It broke my heart knowing I couldn’t look my daughter in the eyes and say we got them and give her the answers she wanted.

“Um No were still working on it we really need you to make a statement and tell your side so we can catch these guys” I said to her.

“Yeah of course what do you need me to do” She asked

“We can wait until you get better there is no need to rush you need to rest” I told her

“I’m good I am just hurt my head hurts but other than that I’m okay I wanna help” she said to me.

“Okay are you sure because once we start we can’t walk it back and I don’t wanna upset you or make things worse” I said to her

‘Yeah I wanna do these so we can catch these guys so they don’t hurt anyone else” Y/N said

“Okay so tell me what happened from the beginning, don't leave anything out, nothing is too small” I said to her.

She got quiet for a moment just looking at her hands and I could tell this was hard for her everything was still fresh.

I squeezed her hand and she looked at me with a tear running down her eye.

“I’m here with you your not alone they can’t hurt you anymore” I said

She nodded and then began telling her story.

“I got off school early for the long weekend so i wanted to come home because i was feeling home sick. When i got home i knew where you kept your spare key but then a neighbor called the cops thinking i was breaking in” Y/N Said

“Then the cops showed up and they recognized me and let me go. I went in and then about an hour later I heard a knock on the door they said they were the cops that you sent them over that I wasn’t allowed to be there and you didn’t give me permission to be there” Y/N said

She got quiet and i knew it was getting harder for her.

“Hey it’s okay your safe okay” I said

She nodded and then waited a second before speaking up.

“I texted you to tell them that wasn’t right but then you called me and that’s when you said you never sent anyone over. They came in the room and they pulled out a gun and told me to keep walking.” Y/N said

“What did they look like do you know the cops who came to the door” I asked

“Yeah they were the ones I pointed out earlier” Y/N said.

“Your doing good what happened next” I asked

“We drove for a while. They had me blindfolded and they had my hands cuffed. We finally stopped and they took me into a building. Then they handcuffed me to the radiator” Y/N said

“Did they say why or anything at all” I asked.

“Yeah I asked them why they said because I was going to ruin everything and they couldn’t let that happen” Y/N said

“Ruin what” I asked

“The one did say anything he left the shorter one stayed behind he looked like he was sorry he had a sad look on his face” Y/N said

“He told me that they made it seem like I was talking to mom but I wasn’t they said Mom didn’t know either. They wanted to make it seem like I was the one who wanted to reached out to her and they were going to use it as leverage” Y/N said

She took a deep breathe and then started again

“They said that then Gemma found out what they were doing so they killed her and set her up to make it seem like she was the one who was pretending to me. So they set up her after she died made phone calls from her phone” Y/N said

“What did mom have on them” I asked

“He said that the rehab was paying them to keep drugs in the faciality so people would keep coming back” Y/N said

“They would make bust from drug deals then they would sell the rehab the drugs they would give it to the patients to keep them there for the insurance money” Y/N said

“Mom figured out what was going on but didn’t know was actually selling the drugs so she went to the police. They put her in the safe house and assigned the two guys to her case” Y/N said

“She told them what was going on not knowing who she was talking to. Then he said they came up with the plan to make it seem like she was talking to me to and they were gonna hurt me if she said anything” Y/N said

“But then mom talked to Gemma and she had no idea what was going on and mom talked to another girl at the rehab who recognized the two detectives selling drugs to the man who ran the center” Y/N Said

“Mom was going to turn them in but then they killed her and the two other girls they said they kidnapped me because who ever would start investigating the case would find out I wasn’t talking to mom and it would draw suspicion” Y/N said.

Everything now made sense now. Why Emma and the two other girls were killed and why they took Y/N. We had enough to nail these bastards to the wall.

I got up and picked up my phone. I looked at Y/n

“You did so great we got enough to put these guys away” I said

“I’m going to call voight and fill him in” I said to her

She nodded and I walked out the hall. I called voight to tell them we got him the phone rang and then picked up

“Jay what’s going on” Voight said

“We got them Y/N woke up and told me everything they were selling drugs to the rehab to get the patients to stay longer for the insurance they took Y/N because she was a loose end they couldn’t have out there Hopper admitted to her” I said

“Good we need to get that on paper and I’ll send it over to the DA but Jay before we head over there are doing this my way or your way” Voight asked

I knew what he meant by that and I couldn’t do it like that Y/N deserved to look those guys in the eye and tell her story the other girls families also deserved justice knowing they died just trying to help.

“No we do it the right way” I said

“Okay were officially charge them you stay there and be with Y/N” Voight said.

“I will thanks sarge” I said

I walked back into the room and looked at Y/N

“I talked to voight were gonna nail these bastards they won’t ever hurt you again” I said

“Thank you dad” She said

“ Of course I will always protect you no matter what” I said to her.

*****************************************

A few months had passed sense Y/N came home. She was struggling but she was also working on it and getting better.

Y/N took some time off of school and stayed home. I wish she was home on different circumstances but it was nice to have her here.

Y/N made an official statement and a positive ID and with that Barnes and Hooper made a deal to three life sentences and the kidnapping of Y/N.

It was true justice for the families and I was glad that Y/N didn’t have to testify.

It was hard knowing that Emma was gone. I wish her and Y/N at some got to meet and talk.

Knowing she died trying to do the right thing was something that took a toll on me too.

Me and Y/N went to her funeral and paid our respects. It was a good way for both of us to say goodbye. I wish Emma had it better but now i just wished she was at piece.

Things between me and Y/N were good I went to therapy with her to work on things. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy when she came home but I knew things were going to be okay because she can home.

Me Hailey and Y/n were all together and were were a family and we were going to be okay because we were stronger together

#jay halstead #jay halstead one shot #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #One Chicago #one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #hailey upton #hank voight #Chicago PD #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #chicago pd one shot

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cherry-lipbalm · 4 years ago

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a son of a bitch in a camper van. spencer reid.

3.9k words.

masterlist

the gif’s a bit blurry yet he’s still endearing x

in which things happen just like that.

Local law enforcement, accompanied by the BAU, have been sitting in a besieging of this goddamn camper van for so long now that the majority of them were highly considering setting up a tent. If it hadn't been already, it sure as hell was scraping up to be a long night.

Spencer couldn't feel his feet, and he had given up on aiming his gun at the RV a long time ago. The sheriffs had been handing out fold-up chairs for those who were observing any potential activity and hadn't resorted to lounging in their cars.

Morgan had offered his to Spencer, who took it gratefully after he got up from falling on his ass when Derek pulled it out from under him. Spencer was only just about to jump on him when they spotted Hotch's glare from over his shoulder. This is a crime scene they could practically hear him say, so Spencer settled for a harsh shove on his colleague's arm and they left it at that.

And that was probably the most exciting thing to have happened over the course of this man-watch; and that was... three hours ago, now? Time, at this point, had become unsubstantial.

"Are we sure he's even still in there?" Morgan asked, gesturing to the derelict camper van a few yards away from them. He had retrieved another chair, and was sat behind the barricade of police cars, but nonetheless held tightly onto the gun resting in his lap.

"I think so," Spencer squinted over the red and blues, assessing the vehicle. If you could even call it that; the thing was basically crumbling to pieces. As much as he believed it, he couldn't comprehend how someone was actually in there, and for so long. It looked uninhabitable.

"The whole thing’s surrounded," a new voice interjected into the conversation, "he went in, and hasn't come out. Detectives say they can see him walking about now and then."

Morgan and Reid both turned in their chairs. If the dire situation surrounding them wasn't so obvious, one could have easily believed they were on a fishing trip of some sorts, except one should know that Morgan had already taken Spencer fishing once, and the result was... eventful, to say the least. A trip to the ER and five stitches later, Reid vowed to never do anything with Morgan ever again.

"Hey, sugar. How you holdin' up?" Morgan greeted, relaxing back into his not-so-relaxing chair.

Y/N sighed, a guttural groan emitting from the exudation of her breath. She looked up to the sky, and was thankful that at least they had a pretty night to look at, because this guy was not moving any time soon.

Reid and Morgan both assessed her as she stepped out from behind their set-up, coming out of the shadows almost menacingly, into the light of police sirens and the distant lamp beaming from inside the camper van.

"I'd be holding up a lot better if this bastard did something," she said. Her feet crunched the soil as she grabbed a spare chair and planted it next to Spencer. He tried to resist the urge to pull back her chair. Emphasis on the word tried.

When Y/N's bum didn't connect with the seat, the realisation hit her too late and all she could do was let out a yell while she headed straight for the ground.

"Oh, you dick!" She cried when she plummeted into the grass. Looking at her mud-ridden hands in disgust, she didn't hesitate to wipe it on Spencer's beloved dress shirt, making sure to taint his sweater vest too.

"Hey! Hey!" He retracted frantically, shoving himself into the side of his chair to get away from Y/N and her hands that could deposit any more Earth onto him. All the while, Morgan laughed his head off, almost facing the same fate as Y/N when his chair leaned back from his laughing fit.

"Children," Hotch called, reprimanding them over Y/N's grimaces and the boys' amusement, which quickly ended when they saw the Unit Chief striding over.

"Did you see that, Hotch? That's harassment in the workplace!"

"Can I please remind you that we are on a crime scene. We are the FBI, and no doubt are going to make a lasting impression on local law enforcement, is this really how you want to be remembered?"

The three fell into sullen expressions, bowing their heads ashamedly as to not make eye contact with him. But Morgan was still snickering subtly behind his hand, and Spencer was biting down on his lip to avoid a sudden burst of laughter that he knew would be more than inevitable while they were being scolded due to the pseudobulbar effect; he'd explain it to them when they were no longer being rebuked.

Eventually Hotch did walk away, leaving them with a castigating glare Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to shake. In response, she took the subsequent silence as an opportunity to slap Spencer on the arm, hard.

"Ow!" He hushed, immediately rubbing his bicep where he was sure a bruise would be forming. If he wasn't aching he would be impressed that she managed to inflict so much pain from so low down.

"Nice one, you got me in trouble with Hotch!" She hissed. Derek had resumed laughing.

"Sorry, teacher's pet," Spencer called her. Then, whispered here we go to himself at what he had just unavoidably instigated.

"Coming from you?" Morgan and Y/L/N said simultaneously, a snark tone to their words. He pursed his lips and looked to them blankly, rolling his eyes at their unified laughter.

They all eased a bit after that, despite the wake of Hotch's wrath. Spencer pulled Y/N up from the ground, and then began to aid her in wiping the soil from her trousers, prompting an awkward encounter when he realised his hand was right on her ass. She gave him a glare, and he raised his muddy hands in surrender while he sat back down, leaving her to do it herself.

When she was somewhat clean, she dragged her chair back and sat in it, pointing a warning finger in Spencer's face as she did so to let him know not to try anything sneaky.

When she relaxed, Y/N thought the scenery was quite nice; get rid of the police cars, black SUVs and the serial killer less than ten metres away from them and it could make for an ideal holiday destination. All they needed was a couple of beers and a bonfire.

Ah, fire. Warmth! Y/N was beginning to forget what it felt like. She wrapped herself further into the complimentary FBI jacket she'd been given upon her arrival to the team. It made for cool recognition, and got her into a lot of places, but, god, did it do fuck all for practical thermal purposes.

"You're cold?" Spencer queried when he noticed her enveloping her arms around herself.

"Freezing," she replied.

"You should go in the car. Emily put the heating on in there earlier, it'll be warm now."

"What? And leave all the fun for you guys? Over my dead body," she turned her head to shoot him a smirk. He inhaled deeply, faltering a smile in her direction and let a comfortable silence fall between them. Y/N even painted on a genuine grin for him, and let the blush she felt warm her up from the cold.

The next few minutes after this go very quickly, but from what Y/N can barely grasp, it goes like this: the camper van's door is thrown open, and out comes this beast of a man who, if he had them, would have had guns blazing. This is evident from his demeanour; the word beast did not originate from his physique, no, he is a fragile, small boy, but the way he is yelling and screaming is nothing of the juvenile sort. And so, he is doing his yelling and screaming and, frankly, taking no prisoners.

All he has on him is a revolver, but it's enough for every police officer and agent to swing into action. Spencer and Morgan's chairs both fall to the ground upon the abruptness of how they suddenly stand, guns drawn. Y/N is already one step ahead of them, and fails to shield herself from their unsub behind any car door like everyone else had the sense to; even if he were without weapons, they were facing the human embodiment of the word danger.

Spencer shouts at Y/N to defend herself, but she pretends she doesn't hear because this bastard made her wait four hours in the freezing cold, the least she could do was have an eye on him, so Spencer takes her cover.

Which turns out to be the fault in this story, because Spencer loves Y/N. And anyone with a pair of eyes can see it and, unfortunately for them, their unsub happened to have a pair of eyes.

He sees the way this pipe cleaner of a man is aiming his gun at him so determinedly, and how his gaze is switching between him and this girl in a frivolous FBI jacket. And he's already blissfully aware that there's no way he is getting out of here alive, but if he is going down then he's sure as hell taking someone with him. He only has one bullet and figures it's a 2 for 1 deal judging by the way pipe-cleaner man is so obviously in love with shitty-jacket girl. And then next thing anyone knows is Y/N is on the ground again but this time a bullet has buried itself in her chest.

Spencer takes the shot, and then a few more even though their unsub has fallen to the ground. And as much as he wants to rush over to Y/N he knows he doesn't have the emotional capacity to see what state she is in, but what he does have is rage, and a whole lot of it, so he just keeps on shooting. He's already dead but that doesn't matter. He keeps shooting until his barrel is empty and Hotch is pulling him away.

A detective approaches the unsub, even though his fate is more than assured, while a flurry of people surround Y/N, falling to her side, but she's only asking for one.

"Spencer," she utters. It hurts for her to talk or even breathe but she knows the pain will only continue so she pays the small price of adding to it in order to make sure Spencer is by her side for the remainder of it all.

Morgan grabs the boy, shakes him from his trance and then pushes him through the crowd so he can kneel beside Y/N. The squelching noise of his trousers drenching in her blood almost makes him vomit, but he swallows it down for Y/N's sake. He already covered her in mud, he knows better than to be sick on her too.

"Y/N," his voice trembles, but the way he turns to shout at the people around him is so full of strength and fury that people jump immediately into action. He yells for an ambulance, even though there's already one on scene and it's just behind them, but what else can he do?

"I'm fine," Y/N manages, "I'm fine."

She was not, indeed, fine.

She tries to scramble to her feet, but finds she can't even attempt sitting up without a pain searing throughout her whole body, ripping her nerves apart like resolute Velcro.

"It's alright," Spencer says, panicked as he tries to keep her from hurting herself. He brushes the blood-stained hair from her face but regrets it when he sees how it's contorted in pain. Thankfully, she soon relaxes, until he realises that's not a good thing at all.

"No, no, Y/N, stay with me alright? Can you do that? Listen to me!"

So he's yelling at the girl he loves, which is no use because she can't hear him and her eyes are already closed. He's so desperate that he pushes her eyelids open himself, but what lies underneath is unresponsive. He holds his hand tightly over what pulse she has left.

Y/N is dying in Spencer's arms. And she can't help but think that if she was to go, she wouldn't mind it to be here and now. But, with what lingering conscious remains, she realises it wouldn't be her who would have to face the repercussions of her death, it would be her friends. Her family. Spencer.

Spencer who had done nothing but love her ferociously ever since they had met; silently and from afar, but passionately nonetheless. She loved him too correspondingly and too much to kill him with the grief.

So she takes a breath.

But he doesn't even have a chance to say goodbye, never mind ask to go in the back of the ambulance with her when she is ripped from his grasp and placed onto the gurney. The ambulance doors slam close and he forgets what it feels like to move. Morgan's hand on his shoulder feels foreign, and when he does eventually move, it's a surge of chaos.

Their unsub isn't receiving any medical attention, because Reid sorted that out irrefutably, so there's really not that many people around and Morgan isn't even fully aware to stop him when Spencer steals his gun from his holster and marches to the corpse lying in the grass. Surrounded by the greenery, the son of a bitch looks almost peaceful so, when Spencer is unloading the bullets on him, he makes sure to add a few in his face for good measure.

This time, no one stops him.

———

"How is she?" JJ asks, who's only just arrived at the hospital in a hurry after receiving the call. She's pretty tenacious considering the situation, especially when you compare her to the ball of pink and panic standing next to her.

"Is she alright? Oh, God, please let her be alright," Garcia utters. She's straight in Derek's arms, who's been crying but to no one's acknowledgement because they all decided they need to be strong, for Y/N's sake. Still, it doesn't stop JJ shedding a few tears from moment to moment.

"She's in surgery," is all Hotch says, because it's all he knows. One minute he was scolding her to get off the ground and the next he was begging her to.

JJ takes a seat immediately next to Emily, and they unanimously clutch onto each other's hands. Opposite them, Morgan and Garcia do the same. It is here that JJ realises the person who should probably be in the company of his friends the most, isn't.

"Where's Spence?"

"Bathroom," Morgan tells her. "He's been in there a while. Won't talk to anyone."

So when Spencer does come out, almost on cue a few seconds later, everyone stands up attentively and tries to decide whether they will ignore his red eyes. They do, and Spencer sits down in a chair next to Morgan. He virtually collapses into his side.

Morgan is reminded of their fishing trip turned ER trip a few months prior. From the way Spencer is resting dependently on his shoulder, the days are identical, except this time Spencer's pain isn't physical and can't be fixed with five stitches.

Everyone looks at Spencer with evident pity, so he burrows himself further into Morgan's t-shirt. When Derek feels the wet indication of tears, he stands up with an arm wrapped around his shoulders and says "let's take a walk".

Spencer doesn't want to, but he's already reached the grieving stage and his body and mind are no longer connected. The only way in which they are associated is that Spencer's mind is mush and his limbs are moving so similarly sluggishly that Morgan is verging on dragging him along the hallways.

Just when Spencer is thinking that Morgan has really just brought him to aimlessly wander the corridors, his friend stops him and holds onto his shoulders. He notices how he has to look away for a moment because he never really managed to register just how bloodshot his eyes were.

"Listen here, pretty boy. You got a girl in there who is fighting for her life. She is, without a doubt, scared, okay? So you need to be strong for her and for yourself, alright? And when she pulls through, because she will, you've gotta take that strength, and you've gotta use it," Morgan said. He was prodding a finger to Spencer's chest to try and get his message across, but he had no idea what that message entailed.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you gotta get your girl, man," his shoulders dropped.

Spencer's face portrays a small smile like he always does when he's hopeless, and his mutterings are almost drowned out by the incessant beeping of hospital machinery, but Morgan catches them.

"What if I don't get a chance to?"

They're interrupted then, much to Morgan's gratitude, because he really didn't know how he was going to respond to that.

Hotch is at the end of the hallway, his chest rising quickly in a pant. Spencer fears the worst.

"She's out."

And suddenly, nothing else matters. Not to Spencer, at least. He shoots off down the hallway like a rock in a catapult; so quickly that Morgan doesn't even ascertain his disappearance until the news has sunk in and he's chasing after him too.

He keeps thinking that. Nothing else matters, nothing else matters. He repeats the mantra in his head while he meanders frantically through the halls; he lost sight of Hotch a while ago when he raced past him and now he's realised he doesn't even know where Y/N is. Nothing else matters he justifies when he bumps into a nurse during his frenzy and doesn't have the time nor consideration to apologise.

When he reaches a small empty square, with four hallways sprouting from it, he cradles his hands behind his head and tries to control his breathing; something he's forgotten how to do correctly. He steps forward, hoping his feet will just know where to go.

Somehow, they do.

He's only taken one step, but when he advances into the hallway to his right, he hears someone breathe his name; it's weak, and feeble, but he'd know her voice anywhere.

His mouth is already agape when he looks over. The door is wide open, just like his eyes with a mixture of hope and fear-stricken astonishment. Inside the room the team is crowded around the bed, looking down on the fragile agent.

Just like before, he forgets what it feels like to move. His feet are stuck in place and even though his mind is racing there is no telling his limbs to do... anything. So, for now, he just peers into the room. Y/N's eyes are begging him to enter but he can't bring himself to do it. If he walks in that means it's real. The heart monitor, the bandages, the dried blood coating her neck that the nurses missed in their clean up: it's all real.

"Reid, trust me. This is a hell of a better ending, okay? This is the one you want," Morgan clasps his hand down on Spencer's shoulder, hissing to him to try and spark some kind of unlikely reaction, but to no avail. Spencer didn't even realise Morgan and Hotch had caught up to him.

He enviously watches them enter the room with such ease. They kiss Y/N's cheek and hug her close. Morgan leans his hands on the end of the hospital bed and tries to talk to her, but she's only looking at Spencer with betrayal in her eyes.

Before Spencer can whisper a futile apology and rush out of the hospital, his brain almost goes into override, suddenly providing him with all the reasons he should do anything but that.

He sees Y/N's face, the way she smiled at him before. The way she's always smiled at him. He hears her laughter, feels her touch. He feels the warmth he experiences whenever she is near. And suddenly, again, nothing else matters.

Nothing but you.

Hotch instinctively lets a hand hover over his holster due to the precipitous manner Spencer barges into the room with. The sole of his shoes squeak against the floor in his hurry and Y/N would grimace if she had the space to because next thing she knows Spencer's lips are on hers and his hands are encasing her face in a way that doesn't make her feel claustrophobic like she always thought it would.

She can't help but think how embarrassing it is that her coworkers are watching this scene unfold —her boss too, and she knows he'll probably be obliged to give them some talk about appropriate behaviour between colleagues, but she doesn't care. Nothing else matters but Spencer.

He doesn't stop there, Spencer wants to kiss her more and Y/N is more than happy to allow it. Her fingers can only fondle the wrinkle of his shirt because it hurts to much to raise her arms, but Spencer is practically lying on top of her and she can get a good feel of his torso through the clothing. His warmth radiates onto her and she hums happily against his lips. When he begins to pull away, she grabs onto his tie and doesn't let him.

She thinks a few of the team have turned around, because it's eerily silent except for a few sniggers from —who she assumed— Morgan, and excited squeals from —who she knew was— Garcia.

When Spencer pulled away, successfully this time, he let out a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he croaked.

"For what?"

"I should have covered you."

"Shut up. From what I've heard you covered me pretty well," she said, and Spencer knew she had been told about his vengeful face-shooting incident. He bowed his head, and smiled weakly when Y/N pulled him back up from his tie. It became less weak when she pecked his lips.

"I'm okay," she whispered to him, like they were the only ones in the room, "we're okay. He's gonna rot for it."

Spencer nodded, and what he couldn't say in words he made up for in affection: his kisses were short, but none lacked the passion that was necessary to tell her how he felt. She felt every one of his kisses throughout her body. Where her chest ached with the pain of being shot now burned with a feverish love for Spencer.

"I, uh, I am going to have to hold a seminar on fraternisation next week," Hotch leaned forward to interject, which worked a treat in eliciting the laughter needed to brighten the mood.

Those that had turned swirled back on their heels and beamed at the new couple. Spencer sat on the edge of Y/N's bed, his hands encased around hers and resting on his lap. They exchanged assuring glances momentarily within the soft conversations of the team.

When Y/N looked up to Spencer again she smiled, and he knew she was thinking the same thing as himself: these people matter, and you, you matter the most.

fin.

#spencer reid gifset #spencer reid #dr Spencer reid #dr reid #Spencer Walter reid #dr Spencer Walter reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #Spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid imagines #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid one shot

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cryinginthebackseat · 4 years ago

Text

you’ve got more poison than sugar - part i

AO3 part ii

Fandom: Call Of Duty

Pairing: Russell Adler x Bell

Words: 4.009

Summary: Russell Adler should have known better that it wouldn’t take an entire nation or continent to bring him to his knees.

Warnings: just swearings, sexual tension, blood, mentions of past abuse and brainwashing. adler being that manipulative asswipe like usual.

Author’s note: i don't know what i'm doing. one moment, i was watching the walkthrough of the new call of duty game, found myself curious, acutely curious by that guy with the scars and shades on- a younger, shadier (no pun intended) Robert Redford in Spy Game and oh my... fast forward to 2 weeks later, here we are.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A house somewhere on foreign soil,

Where ageless lovers call,

Is this your goal, your final needs,

Where dogs and vultures eat,

Committed still I turn to go.

I put my trust in you.

A Means To An End - Joy Division (1980)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It's mystifying how little she talks. Or when she does, it's always in fragments. Like a crossword puzzle in your local newspaper, but several letters are missing. He initially thought maybe MK-Ultra fucked her head or worse, if it hasn't worked at all, but the more he watches her, the more he realizes it's just the way she is. And it's ironic because he named her Bell. He expected her to chime like a goddamn goldfinch yet here they are.

But he won't be fazed. Russell Adler is a man who's stopped at nothing in getting what he wanted before, he sure as hell won't stop now for a close-mouthed science project.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“We've got a job to do, Bell."

It intrigues him, every time, the way the words trigger something deep within her psyche, the way her eyes change, her body stands a little straighter, like a machine ready to function at his disposal. It reminds Adler of one of those cartoons he watched when he was a kid about wizards and magic words, except there are no musical dance numbers playing in the background or a talking cricket perching on his shoulder. This is his power over her, over the USSR, over Perseus. That monstrous filth. It really does take a beast to tame another.

Although he surmises calling Bell one would be superfluous.

She barely looks like one, but Adler knows too well than to underestimate her. Just because Bell hasn’t shown her set of claws, that doesn’t mean she’s harmless, delicate, like a miniature China Doll in his breast pocket.

Bell never offered him her reply before, but now, now, she nods, head almost bows, obedient pretty thing, and says:

“Yes, Adler.”

So it goes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It takes West Berlin for Adler to realize she’s left-handed.

She wears her watch on her right hand, smokes with that same said hand only when she’s writing or moving her pieces for an impromptu late-night game of chess against Lazar. And she always wears her gloves all the time- leather, black, lined with silk and pretty, small buttons on the cuffs, covering those striking red nails underneath. Whether it is for the theatrics or an old habit of hers, he can't really tell.

He doesn’t know why he begins to take notice of these mundane details about Bell, but rationalizes because he’s never been in the same room with this version of her, post-brainwash Bell, for more than 10 minutes. And for all intents and purposes, there’s still a lot of question marks surrounding her character; who is she? Where did she come from? What is her connection to Perseus?

Are they in a possession of a walking, breathing bomb about to destroy them all or the West’s only salvation?

He supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Adler hears Bell from his table, typing busy on the computer- barely blinking- all soaked up in that caffeine-infused energy at 1 am. She's always like that, he learns, when it comes to working, always with that steel determination, pulling out all the stops as long as it gets the job done- that Soviet discipline at it's finest.

Reminds him a little of himself when he's young.

Adler walks up to her.

“You done for the night?” A shake of her head is her only response. He sighs. “You should go home, Bell.”

“You go. I’ll lock up behind you,” Bell replies, low and monotone; that youthful stubborn.

If she was any other person, he would probably commend her for such fierce willpower, but she is Bell, the walking conundrum, his ace in the hole. Call him paranoid, but the idea of her having the safehouse for herself does nothing but raises every alarm in his head.

“No, we’re going home,” he says instead, tone brooking no argument and she frowns at the screen, her fingers stop moving then looks up at him with those goddamn empty eyes. "Come on, it's late anyway."

She doesn't say anything. Adler wishes he could read her mind- or crack that lovely skull on the back of her head, dissect her brain, learn its secrets and answers.

Adler has his gun with him. It wouldn’t take long. A quick, true shot to the heart to keep the brain intact. He’d have Hudson contact one of his people inside BND and he'd deliver the brain himself if he has to. They could do it. He heard they’ve been studying inmates' brains for decades now, anyway.

Before he has a chance to entertain the idea further, though, Bell nods once and rises up from her seat.

Bell walks past him. Her scent, like honeysuckle on ice, hits him like an uppercut in the face. Adler inhales, as if against his will.

He thinks he could get drunk on it.

“Hop in. I’ll drive you back to the hotel,” he says once they’re outside, regretting the decision the moment the words left his lips, but he knows he can’t just leave her on her own at this late hour.

The irony isn’t lost on him, though, considering he just thought about unspooling her brain a few minutes ago.

Bell complies without a protest. Getting inside the passenger seat, wordless still, fingers toying with the radio. An angry, krautrock music comes blaring all over his car. Adler winces, but at least the riot is loud enough to muffle the one's brewing in his head.

"How's your memory these days?"

Bell shrugs. "Nihil novi sub sole." There's nothing new under the sun.

Good, he muses. The least she knows about herself the better.

Though that doesn't mean he's out of the woods yet.

"Listen, from now on, I want you to keep me informed if there's any new progress about your memory or if you've developed any new symptoms. I want to know everything." He steals a sidelong glance at her, making sure she is listening (she always does, but Adler needs an excuse)

(An excuse for what?)

"Alright, Bell?"

"Of course," replies the woman in question.

"Good." Adler shifts his attention back to the road. "Good." Taking a long drag, he considers trying to appeal to her sentimental side. It's not something you'd improvise last minute- at least not with someone you brainwashed to believe you are her mentor/confidant for the past decade, but he's itching to know where he stands with her.

"You know, I'm just tryin' to look out for you, kid."

Her lips twitch but the rest of her visage remains impassive and faraway, more like a flick knife than a woman. The correlation is uncanny.

That's when she inches closer. The space between them bridged. He freezes. Hyper-aware of just how dangerous this is, but can’t bring himself to pull back, to look the other way. Not when her hand reaches out to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, eyes still glued to his, and curls her lips around the filter. One heavy pull, and then she rolls down the window and tosses it out on the side of the road.

"Thought I'd reciprocate the sentiment."

And with that, she leans back in her seat before Adler could even process what has just transpired.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Welcome back to the land of the living, kid,” Adler greeted her, about a month ago.

Park had insisted that he had to be there for her when she woke up (naturally, Adler had balked at the idea, but at the English woman’s fact-of-the-matter explanation, also because it had somewhat dawned on him last minute the logic behind her machinations- “both of you are supposed to have known each other for years now. If she doesn't see you by her side, she’s going to wonder why”- thus, here he was)

“How are you feeling?”

Bell blinked owlishly and stared at the older man with those bottomless, cat-like eyes that had haunted him since January.

Her gaze eventually softened as recognition flickered across her face.

“Like someone just hit me in the chest with a bulldozer,” she said hoarsely. “Where are we?”

“St. Dismas’ hospital, Pittsburgh.” Adler got up and fetched her a glass of water from the table. “Although not a bulldozer, but bullets did. That, and you hit your head really hard on your way down. Thought we’d lost you there, Bell.”

Bell drank in silence. She’s still watching him, thinking. This was the first time he realized that he couldn’t exactly read her expression and somehow that threw him off.

“What happened?” she asked, one hand mid-air, like she was deciding which to touch first, hesitating and abandoned the idea.

“You don’t remember?” She shook her head. Adler pretended to look remotely distressed about it. “The doctors warned me about this. It must have been because of the fall- heck, I could even still hear that sickening crunch from here.” He dragged his chair closer towards her bed.

“We were in Amsterdam. Remember Fohler?” she shook her head again. “Well, we’d been tracking this son of a bitch for months, but we were chasing him in Amsterdam. He was running away and climbed up some scaffolding. You were about to go up after him,” he recited the fabricated story he, Park and Hudson had crafted. “He shot you and you fell and hit your head against the pavement.”

Bell looked away first, silent. Her hand gingerly touched the back of her head and winced, albeit only slightly.

Adler was almost impressed, if not, disarmed by how calm and composed her reaction was to all of this. But then again, after having had witnessed first-hand how the woman barely flinched under any kind of interrogation technique they threw at her- a personality built for wrestling tigers- he really shouldn’t be surprised.

“Bell, what is the last thing you remember?”

Bell frowned. “Not much. I remember ‘Nam, but-”

“Vietnam? Kid, that was thirteen years ago.” Adler watched the way her throat bopped, like she was swallowing her own blood and the color drained from her face, just like the first time he’d seen her, and proceeded to drop the bomb:

“Bell, the year is 1981.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Bell dear, would you mind taking a look at this?"

Park's voice sails from across the room. She says it like it's a compound word: Bell-dear. Like the two words belong together. Bell-dear. 2 syllables, 1 word, 9 characters and that just might be the weirdest thing he hears this year and he heard many things.

"Bell dear?" Adler asks much later, his gravel-and-smoke voice reduced to a whisper, when she delivers a document to his table.

Park shrugs as if that explains everything. "What? I like her."

He's tempted to say you really can't put a term of endearment and someone you brainwashed into submission in the same sentence, but what else is new?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They wind up in a bar. It’s called Die Stube and the place’s brimmed with artists and all sorts of leather-clad, Bowie-esque dramatic, chromatic blue eyelids young people chattering over a dirty cloud of smoke.

The two of them colonize a lone booth in the back. It’s dark and the quietest. She orders a beer and he, a scotch and they drink in silence. There are moments where her head would twist to the side, as subtle as a needle and survey the phantasmagorical scene before them, like studying something from a petri dish.

While he’s watching her.

Only to tear his gaze away to the nearest object he can find.

It lands on his watch.

"It’s almost ten. Hudson's contact should be here soon," he announces, if anything to distract himself. She nods mutely in reply, as always, and runs a finger around the rim of her glass.

"The place ain't much of your scene?"

She shrugs, like it's self-evident. "I didn't know this was a scene, though."

"Well, that’s West Berlin for you. A worry-free playground for the hedonists, hipsters and proto-electro NDW enthusiasts with drugs on tap," Adler says, sipping his drink in practiced nonchalance. "Always makes my head spin."

"I guess I remember it differently," Bell replies, tinged with something akin to begrudging.

That warrants his full attention. "What do you remember?”

Bell shrugs again and lights a cigarette instead, menthol, one of those long, skinny cigarettes they only market for women; biding her time, making him wait. She lets the smoke flares from her nostrils so her eyes are veiled.

"It’s hard to explain, but I suppose it’s grittier?” she gesticulates, searching for the right word like she’s skim reading the entire Oxford dictionary in her head. “Bizarrely, infinitely grittier and dimmer? Like being in an underground tunnel and there's not much to see."

Interesting. Maybe she’s recalling one of her ops for Perseus or her mind is confusing her with the world on the other side of the wall.

“Maybe you’re remembering one of our clandestine ops here. It was a few years after Vietnam,” Adler supplies, passing over the tale like bait.

She falls for it, hook, line and sinker.

“Ah, I guess that also explains my fluency in German.”

“I taught you that.” It’s only logical, he decides, that she learned from him. She’s supposed to be his protégé after all.

An elegant brow quirk. "You did?"

"Yeah, though you were already fluent in Latin, Russian, Vietnamese and Portuguese when we first met anyway. You have quite a natural ear, kid.”

She gives him a look. He really can’t categorize it, but it makes it a whole lot harder to fight against her stare.

“What else did you teach me?”

If they were anyone else, the lines could have a potential to entice, to seduce, that winsome, catty-eyelashes coquette, but they aren't anyone else and Bell does not voice it like that. Yet the implication behind the question stirs something in the pit of Adler’s stomach anyway, that tight knot of confusion as it is buried with something else and he finds himself, once again, uncharacteristically speechless.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

That particular question of her stays, even hours later, unbidden. Interspersed with her scent and face.

His emotions are a minefield whenever she’s near now. It evokes that newfound rush of terror within him, like walking on a tightrope or being thrown into the pit to face hundreds of hungry lions, bare hands. It makes Adler questions his every decision, and he can’t have that in his line of work.

Adler lights his sixth cigarette, contemplating everything, nothing. Anything to distract him from her. It's 4 am and he’s exhausted, but his mind won’t stop whirring. This isn’t like him at all- like he's lost somewhere in a Dali-style labyrinth that is his head and he wonders if this is a byproduct of his fear or fascination or confusion for the young woman.

He fears it is all of them.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(They're only 10 minutes away from East Berlin when he senses it, something akin to burning on his peripheral vision, pulling him like weight.

Bell is staring at him from across the seat.

He cocks his head slightly to the side.

Adler catches the quick, telling quirk of her lips, like she's about to smile but lights a cigarette instead.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Did you hear that?”

Krauss has just crossed the wall and their soles are slippery from the rain. She's panting. Her breath is white like a fog. Adler muses it must be from the running, until his iris trails down to where her hand is clutching his jacket sleeve, the leather creasing like a modulation signal.

“What is it?” Adler asks, hushed. There are no Stasis here, but even one can't be too careful.

“The TV.” She’s gaping at the broken TV next to them. Adler looks at the said object, frowning, then back to her. “Y-you didn’t hear it?”

"Heard what? Bell, the thing's dead."

Bell withdraws from him. Stepping back until her back meets the walls, her eyes seeing and unseeing, like a lens finding focus in the dark, then she closes them, as if trying to regulate her breathing. Adler has never seen her scared shitless of anything before. The sight confuses as it intrigues him.

"Bell, what's going on?" Adler steps closer, but he dares not to touch her.

She shakes her head, dismissive. In just a span of seconds, Bell dons that mask she likes to wear again; deadpan and frustratingly distant. A spike of annoyance drives through him. Just when he thinks he can get through her, there she goes again, retreating behind her palisades.

"Nothing." Bell turns away abruptly and she’s walking again."Let's just go. The others are waiting for us."

He doesn't pry about whatever she heard on the TV- Adler knows better than to beat a dead horse, thank you very much- not even after they save her from Volkov's clutches, after she bashes his head against the steel door and reeks his blood all the way home, it seems superficial at the time.

Until two days later.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The day starts, as it mostly does for the team, with a briefing.

Fifteen minutes in and something like a gasp pulls his attention to her.

That’s when he notices it; her hands are shaking, coffee spilling out of the mug over her hand. A shatter follows. Her mug smashes to smithereens at her feet. She’s swaying, near collapse, like a house of cards about to fall, a hand on her nose.

Adler catches her before she tumbles to the floor.

“Bell!” His arm around her waist tightens, trying to keep her steady. Lazar rushes to their side in a flash and helps him move her to a nearby chair.

"Jesus Christ," he curses, more to himself than to her as he watches blood, a bead of angry red, trickling down her nose. "Sims, get me a washcloth from the bathroom."

He kneels before her once Sims returns with a damp cloth. Nicotine-stained gloved fingers tentatively grasp her chin, holding her still.

“Kid, you alright?” Adler asks, worry bleeds into his voice without him realizing it. He firmly presses the cloth under her nose, his other thumb touches the pulse at her throat- it's almost sickly affectionate. “Bell, talk to me."

Bell looks at him, discombobulated, like he's a figment of her imagination, then blinks. Again and again until she heaves a deep breath.

"I-" she hisses. One hand flies up to her head. "Fuck. My head.”

Adler’s eyes immediately search for Park’s. A knowing look passes over her face and he knows without saying that she's thinking the same thing, like they're attached to the same brain-wire:

MK-Ultra.

There’s a fraction of pause, then Lazar asks, "Should we give her something?”

Before Park can voice her answer, Bell beats her to it. "I already took an anticonvulsant this morning. It should have helped.”

“Wait, this has happened before?” Adler asks.

Bell looks away, a hesitating look shadowing her face. He fears the worst.

“Bell…” he tries again, a slight warning to his tone.

She sighs loudly, as if mentally preparing herself before walking into a storm.

“Yes. Two days ago."

His mind instantly refers to East Berlin, the TV. Trying to connect the dots in his head. It seems far fetched, but now he wonders if she saw something that triggers this. Although he's never read about this on other subjects before, the correlation is just impossible to ignore.

Fuck. He heaves a breath, willing himself to calm down, to think. They can't afford complications at times like these. Not when there's so much at stake right now.

Adler snaps his attention back to Bell when she tries to scramble awkwardly to her feet, swatting his hand away. The hand on her neck immediately reaches for her waist again and pushes her back down onto the chair. His grip's tight enough to leave marks on her skin, but he doesn't care.

"Bell, for fuck's sake, stay still or so help me," he says, exasperated, not letting go of her waist.

"I feel better now." Stubborn little shit.

He is tempted to scream at her face and grab both of her shoulders and shake. “The hell you’re not. Stop fighting it. You’ll only make things worse.”

Her face sours, if only for a millisecond before it morphs into guilt. “I’m sorry.”

Adler watches her for a long moment. It’s only now that he realizes that he’s still holding her waist and the cloth on her face.

He backs away from her like he’s been burnt.

“You should have told me. I thought I made it clear the other night to keep me informed regarding this,” he scolds.

“I’m sorry,” she utters again and she looks so pliable like this, a blank canvas perfumed with obedience and lethal mind. It makes him almost feel sorry for what he has in plan for her once the shit show is over.

“Look, just go back to the hotel and take a day off.” Her mouth cracks open. He raises a silencing hand. “That’s an order, Bell.” But she merely scowls, looking more like jagged ice than a person. Hudson may have just met his match, after all.

“I told you I’m fine.”

“That’s not how it looks to me.”

“It is. It’s my body and I know what I’m feeling, and I’m telling you, I. Feel. Fine.”

His jaw clenches. “Are you disobeying a direct order, agent?”

Bell doesn’t answer, but her whole face remains challenging and hard. Undeterred.

Adler holds his breath. He feels the whole room collectively does the same. It’s like staring down the barrel of a gun and there’s an awful sort of danger to be found in that.

Just when he thinks an imaginary bullet would dig itself into his skin, however, Bell utters, “Of course not.”

And so the woman resumes to her normal, docile self at a drop of a hat. Even when Park steps in and whisks her out of her seat, drives her back to her hotel with Lazar on shotgun.

It doesn’t assuage his worry, though. He’s still restless throughout the day, like a roaring ocean inside a bell jar. She’s never done this before, openly rebels against him. Now, the situation is just bad. Not casually bad or almost-got-shot bad, this is the-entire-Europe-could-turn-into-a-nuclear-wasteland bad, an-armageddon-waiting-to-happen bad.

What if this is the beginning of her old self trying to scratch her way out of the surface? Adler’s blood goes cold at the thought. He is going to have to keep a close eye on this development.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

West Berlin - 1 am, local time.

“How is she?”

“Stable. I’ve administered another dose of Propranolol before I left the hotel. She should be fit as a fiddle in the morning.”

“Tell me, what do you think happened to her?”

“My theory? Traumatic brain injury. A cumulative product of torture, trauma-based mind control and chronic stress. I've read reports about cases like these before in MI6. None of them is still alive to recount the tale, unfortunately."

Adler grips the phone.

“How long do you think we have?”

“Theoretically, 2-3 weeks tops.”

“But?”

He hears Park sighs on the other line. “But then again, none of the subjects I’ve encountered before were like her. So, I suppose it’s still a little too premature to determine at this point."

Adler kneads his temple, feeling the start of that familiar Bell-induced headache forms in his head. Can things just be fucking simple for once?

“We don’t have that much time anyway, Park. And if Hudson gets a wind of this, he’ll want her gone by morning. I can’t let that happen. Not…” he pauses. “Not when we are this close.”

"What are we going to do about her, then?"

Adler sighs.

"Raise the dosages of her drugs,” he says. “And keep an extra eye on her. I think we may be heading into uncharted waters now.”

Tagging: @mvalentine cause you said to tag you with everything i write so 👁👄👁

#russell adler #russell adler x bell #cod bell #cod #call of duty #call of duty black ops #call of duty cold war #cod cold war #alex mason #frank woods #helen park #lawrence sims #jason hudson #lazar azoulay

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lady-z-writes · 3 years ago

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What Lies Beneath - Chapter 1 (Heisenberg x Reader) (Heisenberg x OC)

Posting this here too! Feel free to subscribe on AO3.

Chapter 1 is up of my new Heisenberg/reader (Heisenberg/OC) story.

Summary: A trip to a neighboring village introduces Heisenberg to Reader – a Cadou experiment that didn’t quite meet Miranda’s standards. Reader was told to stay away from the Lords – as her powers will only make them weaker – but there’s something alluring about this rugged man, especially when he’s between her thighs.

Boot stomps sound through the halls of the church, their echoes drown out by the yelling in the lobby. Heisenberg lights a cigar as he shoves through the doors, returning to the brisk winter air.

“Fuckin’ idiots,” he mutters, stomping through the snow.

Every ‘family’ meeting is rough, each one getting harder to hide his disdain for his ‘mother.’ But today…especially today, given the timing of things.

Heisenberg doesn’t remember much about his childhood before Miranda, but he remembers that trip his dad took him on – it was around this time of year. It was a time when his dad could break away from the factory, trek through the mountains until they hit a nearby village where they spent some time fishing. That’s all he remembers…some big snowstorm, a collapsing snowdrift almost taking them out, and fishing. Other than that, it’s all blank.

Days like this make it impossible to get passed that resentment he feels toward Miranda. Snowy weather leaves him wondering just how many fishing trips his dad planned to take him on before he was killed, before his son was experimented on, before the whole village went to shit thanks to that bitch.

The cold air and the cigar should make his lungs ache, but he’s so used to it by now. Coat billowing around him, he makes a rash decision and takes a right toward the southernmost mountains.

It isn’t often that he can sneak away from the ‘family’ without anyone knowing. He’d only been away for a while once and thankfully Moreau covered for him when they questioned his absence. If Moreau actually thought he was with him is another question entirely.

The one trip he took led him to the wrong place – no village in sight and by the time he arrived back, it was too late to try another path before the questioning began from his ‘family.’

'Where were you?’

'Why did you miss a meeting?’

'Mother is pissed.’

'Did you get lost in that factory?’

This time around, he had a better plan: got ahold of some old maps left behind in the village, plotted out his path and where his assumption was for the other village, waited until the opportune moment to leave town for a bit. And the opportune moment was directly after a meeting.

He didn’t know exactly what he wanted when he found it. Surely there’s no father to go fishing with so what’s the point?

The point is that he shouldn’t be confined to this stupid village, shouldn’t be one of Miranda’s toys, should be finite and human – not a monster. The point is that he’s chasing something and that probably says a lot about him and needs unburied, but now is not the time for self-counseling.

The climb through the mountains is exhausting, even for him, but he keeps pushing through just in case he ends up empty again, in case the village doesn’t exist in this area either.

The journey makes him start to doubt again, like he’s done so many nights before: maybe this isn’t his memory, but something else entirely. Maybe this was just a story he was told as a child; one that his young imagination ran wild with. Maybe…

A few hours into the journey, several cigars later, frozen limbs, and a sopping wet jacket, and he spots it: several rooftops through the clearing. He lets out a huff then a laugh as his feet carry him forward.

So, it did exist…this whole time…

Thought leaves him as soon as he hears a growl in the distance. Hammer at the ready, he doesn’t even have time to attack when he’s knocked off his feet by something he can only describe as Lycan-adjacent.

The antlers are what get him – stab at his neck before he swings his hammer to knock it off. And then he’s running – dodging trees because, oh fuck, that thing got right back up.

The village comes into view quickly after a few more run-ins with this antler-beast. It charges him again only for him to dodge, grab it by the antlers, and snap them like a wishbone. Blood pools as he slowly backs away, watching the dying thing twitch in the snow.

Sauntering on, he swings his hammer back over his shoulder, touches his throat wound with a ‘huh’ leaving his lips.

Odd.

An abandoned house sits near where he remembers fishing with his father, but he can’t remember what this used to be. Everything seen with fresh eyes, it seems like a lifetime ago – feels more like a dream than reality.

He continues on.

“You’re a fresh face,” comes a voice, almost startling him. Almost.

Spinning on his heels, he shifts his hammer, scans around. A thin womanly figure floats down from out of a tree. She’s cloaked in moss and tree bark, her features soft and almost kind. Heisenberg doesn’t lower his hammer.

“Such a bad day for traveling,” though she doesn’t seem to be affected by the cold, Heisenberg sniffles at her. “What are you doing out here, stranger?”

“Just out for a stroll,” he drawls. “Passing through.”

She steps closer and he steps back, aware that there’s nowhere to board up except the abandoned house. The tree woman extends her palms forward in an almost-innocence.

“Let me take you somewhere nice,” she motions behind her, as if that tree is ‘somewhere nice.’ Heisenberg doesn’t want to find out what she means. “Handsome guy like you…I could indulge in.”

He’s about to swing his hammer when he goes toppling to the ground again, the Earth feeling like it’s shifting beneath him – a dizzying in his head as he fights off another one of those antler-creatures.

Shifting his hand, he can feel the metal from objects inside the abandoned house. With a blink, they go flying through the air to impale the beast atop him. Growling sounds louder, foot stomps, and then a puncture to his neck. It’s not an antler this time, doesn’t feel as thick or grating, and when he looks out of the corner of his eye it’s the tree-lady crouched over him with a needle poking from her wrist into his neck.

Shoving her off then rising to his feet, he collects himself, pulls the metal scraps to float around him, but falters in a dizzy spell.

The tree woman laughs. “Much mightier than I thought. And powers, too!”

Blinking hard, Heisenberg sways on his feet, slamming his hammer down to catch himself. Breaths coming out ragged, he lowers his head to his hands.

This can’t be happening.

Shoving the metal forward as best he can, he realizes that he’s missed: the woman is beside him now.

“Aw, poor man,” she’s seductive suddenly, reaching for him, touching his arm. She seems to ignore the horned beasts surrounding them – or, rather, they ignore her. “Don’t you want to come and warm up?”

He wants to shove her off, but his body isn’t functioning properly. He feels like he’s stuck in a trance. Fingers twitching to shift the metal around them, he manages to kill one of the beasts before she grips his jacket and pulls him closer.

“You bitch,” he huffs, feeling her body pressed against him, his own reacting to their proximity.

She laughs. “Don’t fight it, sugar. You could use a nice release, couldn’t you? So pent up.”

Her lips are pressing to his and it’s almost as if he’s completely lost control. Her taste is exquisite, enticing, he can’t get enough. The hammer falls to the snow as he kisses her back, hand trailing behind her, pulling her into him harshly. A low moan leaves him but it sounds far away. Feeling is leaving his fingers – from the cold or something else, he isn’t sure. All he knows is he needs this.

“Serena, stop!” comes a yell from behind them and it feels like a slap to the face.

The beasts are no longer tame, but they growl in place.

Heisenberg is shoved back as another woman steps in between him and this tree woman Serena. His hands are grabbing for her though – contact, he needs contact – but they fall short and land on this new woman. He can’t seem to stop himself.

“Leave us alone, [Y/N]! This has nothing to do with you,” the tree woman Serena says.

[Y/N]? Heisenberg isn’t familiar…

Breaths are coming out in deep huffs like he’s been running. His head is foggy, trance-like still.

“Do you have any idea who this is?” [Y/N] asks, a small squeak leaving her as he loops his fingers up under her shirt, traces his calloused hands over her belly, inching up toward her breasts, dips his head to the crook of her neck.

“No, but my pheromones seem to work well on him. I was so close to total control.”

He’s sort of aware of this comment from the plant lady – enough that he pulls back from [Y/N] completely.

[Y/N] turns to him then, presses her hands to his shoulders. “Snap out of it,” she urges, “focus.”

Heisenberg finds himself staring into her eyes, focusing on the surroundings, has so many damn questions right now, but the scene before him keeps spinning.

Serena takes a swing at [Y/N] but she dodges, ducks under her blast of whatever-the-fuck-petals-those-are, and delivers a strong punch to her face. As the girls fight, Heisenberg blinks heavily and tries to shake this trance off.

Wide eyes stare into the snow as he’s a little embarrassed by the pants tent he’s currently sporting. Jesus. Fuck.

Anger pounds through him, his hand quickly snapping for his hammer…only it doesn’t work. A nervous gaze is shot to the women but he realizes that the tree lady isn’t using her powers either. He has a sinking feeling as he tries to force the metal pieces to float again.

Hoisting his hammer up the old-fashioned way, he realizes its weight.

“Duck,” he tells [Y/N], shoving her out of the way before delivering a blow to this tree lady, knocking her out.

[Y/N] stands back then, sees the anger flash in Heisenberg’s eyes. The antlered beasts still growl in place.

“Talk,” he snaps. “Now.”

“Your teeth are chattering,” she acknowledges. “Can’t we at least-”

“I said talk,” he slams the hammer down in the snow.

A nod. “Serena,” she nods over to the moss-covered lady on the ground. “She’s…we’re all…” she shakes her head then finishes with, “-like you.”

He can feel his shaking now, attributes it to this news when it could full-well be from the cold.

“Cadou?” he asks to which she nods. “Fuck.” He runs a hand down his face then shoves his hands in his pockets to keep them warm and to hide the half-chub he’s still got. “Where the Hell did my powers go?”

She looks sheepish. “I have everything to do with that.” At this, he reaches for his hammer again. “I-I didn’t take them or something, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He doesn’t look convinced. She sighs. “Here.” She steps backwards about 15 feet. “Try now.”

Begrudgingly, he removes his fists from his pockets and his hammer flies into his hand instantly. With a blink, he watches the metal pieces float up around him then rain back down into the snow.

Ah. So she can block power…

He remains silent which clearly makes her a little uneasy so she starts speaking again.

“Serena is a Dryad,” she announces as if he’s supposed to know what the fuck that is. “She has power over plants. You got to experience her pheromones…” she looks him over, eyes landing on his half-chub before she inhales and looks elsewhere.

“And what do they call you?” he steps closer.

“They don’t have a term for me. I…wasn’t given enough time…” she looks away, steps until her back is to the abandoned house.

He’s close, peering down at her. “And what are they,” he thumbs behind him.

“Wendigo,” she breathes out. He doesn’t reply. “She feeds them…” Heisenberg nods, grabs a cigar from his pocket, lights it, turns to walk away. “Where are you going?”

When he’s far enough away from the power cockblock, he pulls his hammer to him again, slicing up the Wendigos with his metal until there’s a heap of bodies around his feet. That should stop them from following.

[Y/N] tries to not let her surprise and approval show in her expression as she watches him, but he sees a small quirk of her eyebrow. Exhaling smoke, he takes another drag then starts coughing from the cold air.

“Powers or not, this weather isn’t good for you,” [Y/N] sighs.

“What, are you the ruler here? Kicking me out so soon?” he swings his hammer over his shoulder.

“We have no ruler, just…a monitor,” she shakes her head, turns, stops herself from saying more. “What is your business here, Lord Heisenberg?”

“Ah, so you do know me. Different village, yet word travels, hm?”

“You…don’t know of this place, do you?” at her question, he bites down the memories of his father. “Come, we have much to discuss.” As she begins walking, she doesn’t hear his footsteps following behind. She turns, tries another angle, “Or I could get Serena back up and she could show you more of her powers. Trust me, you don’t want her spores getting…other places. You’d have greater concerns than an awkward boner.”

Heisenberg can feel his cheeks heating up.

“Mouthy little bitch, aren’t you?”

She holds her hands up in innocence. “Just looking out for a mighty ruler.” She laughs. “Shall I start a fire or would you rather freeze your ass off out here? Maybe you need a minute to cool off – like a cold shower.”

He can’t help the laugh that comes from his throat at her quips.

“Spunky. I like you.”

[Y/N] inhales sharply, surprised and flattered.

And so begins their silent walk – Heisenberg trailing further behind just in case his powers are needed. The village is bigger than he remembers, though he doesn’t remember much.

[Y/N] picks up the wood she’d left outside of her door right before Heisenberg’s run-in with Serena and the Wendigo. If her fire hadn’t died, she wouldn’t have seen the pack of Wendigo charging down the hill at them. Any slower and Serena may have gotten her claws into him to use at her command.

Sometimes these powers come in handy, despite what Mother Miranda may think.

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x oc

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years ago

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Becky's debut novel (Sugar Sugar fic)

A/N: So, @thelastsock gave me such a great idea: a snippet of Becky's book. So I have a snippet here, including a front cover, back cover and a little dedication page (because I am extra like that 😂😂, what else do you expect from me). Hope you like it xoxo

Chapter 1

YOU ARE NOT WELCOME.

Those are the exact words that greet me when I walk up our porch to our front door. Let’s just say that my mom has a special way of welcoming her quests. I step over the slightly offensive doormat to get inside. Not a lot of people would expect this kind of welcome from the mayor, but then again: no one expected her to win the elections in our town Starfall Fields in the first way.

Not to be mean, but even I never believed in my mom and not for a second did I think she had any chance of winning. Mom has been quite the controversy the second she moved into town. How on earth would she be able to be the mayor?

Weirdly enough, she hasn’t made a complete fool out of herself in these two months she has been mayor. Actually, she’s been doing quite well. It’s just that her housekeeping skills have been lower than low.

I open the refrigerator and scrunch up my nose when I notice there is barely anything edible in here. Great.

I grab my phone and send my mom a text.

Josie: You need to do groceries

Mom: Do it yourself, you lazy bitch

Mom: Still love you though 😘

I chuckle as I read her text. She’s quite something, my mom, and if we don’t call each other bitch at least once a day, there’s something up and we should worry.

People might find it odd that we call one another bitch, but it’s just our way of showing our affection towards the other.

Somehow I find some left over yogurt that isn’t expired already. I peel a banana (to only throw half of it away, because it’s brown and squishy, therefore absolutely repulsive) and cut it into slices. I drizzle some maple syrup on top of it and want to add some raisins, but when I open the jar, I find out there is only one raisin left in it.

‘Mom,’ I whine, though she can’t hear me. ‘Really?’ This is just absolutely fantastic. After a long day at school, a girl can barely enjoy a nice little afternoon snack. I grab my bowl and walk over to the dining table. My butt barely touched the soft seating of the chair, when my best friend Andy FaceTimes me. I place the phone against the fruit bowl before I press answer. ‘What do you want?’ I ask him. ‘You literally saw me half an hour ago.’

He smiles, two dimples appearing in his full cheeks. ‘You know I can’t get enough of you, sugar.’

Andy and I have been best friends since I can remember, but that is mostly because we’ve been in the same class the moment we both stepped foot into kindergarten and we’re neighbors. We’re literally the two houses in a radius of around half a mile (yes, we took the time to measure it) and he isn’t the worst guy to hang around with.

Okay, he is the only one that doesn’t make me that angry, I have to fight the urge to claw his eyes out. I’m not gonna beat around the bush: I love hanging out with him.

While we see each other the moment we step out of our houses to go to school, share every class of the day with one another and we walk from school back to our houses, it’s hard to function without the other one. Therefore, we usually FaceTime the second we can after separating.

We’re quite the symbiotic pair.

‘Spit it out, Andy. What do you want?’ I ask.

‘I was wondering what your plans are,’ Andy says. ‘Mainly for tonight.’

I can’t help but chuckle. ‘There was a plan of me hanging on the couch, watching a movie with my best friend while we eat junk food, but your voice is telling me that you have something else in mind for the two of us.’

He nods. ‘I was thinking about you and I doing some FindUrPricing tonight.’

‘FindUrPricing is not a word, you idiot.’

‘I don’t care, miss Doyle,’ he retorts with a sassy undertone. He shakes his head, gestures I have to wait (like I’m going anywhere) and comes back into frame, this time with a tablet in his hands. ‘I have like five of these things, so what do you say? Want to bury them tonight, while we try to find something cool for it in return?’

Andy has this obsession with solving puzzles in newspapers like the old soul he is and since he is quite good and really fast, he has won multiple prizes, including multiple tablets.

‘Only if I find a diamond ring,’ I answer with my mouth full of yogurt.

‘Yeah, that’s attractive. You’ll find yourself a boyfriend in no time with those manners.’

I show him the finger. ‘I don’t need etiquette lessons from you,’ I say.

Andy sticks out his tongue. ‘Are you coming with me tonight?’ he asks me. ‘You know I need you.’

I chuckle. Andy is a disaster when it comes to being in the dark, but since FindUrPrice is just more fun at night, I have become his personal guard. ‘Okay, okay, but only if I can sleep at your place tonight. I have no idea what time my mom will be back from work.’

Andy’s parents are going to the opera’s tonight and afterwards, they’re staying in a hotel near the big city. Normally, they aren’t the type of people to go to the opera’s, but when their son wins tickets, including a stay in one of the most luxurious hotels in the area, who are they to say no?

Since I have no idea what time my mom manages to pull herself from city hall (to say she is a workaholic is an understatement), I’d rather sleep at Andy’s, then telling her we’ve been wandering on the street late at night.

Especially on a school night.

Sure, my mom knows about FindUrPrice, but she forbade me to ever do it late at night, because “you never know what can happen”. I personally think it’s not that big of a deal, since Starfall Fields is boring as hell and absolutely harmless, but my mother wouldn’t be my mother if she didn’t envision my death.

FindUrPrice is an app for the younger folks in our city and the few around. The organization hid a few gifts and presents and whenever you follow the leads and find something, you have to place something nice in return. It’s cute and me and Andy do it from time to time.

‘You’re coming over now?’ Andy asks.

‘To help you do your laundry?’ I ask, nodding towards the screen, mainly towards the enormous pile of clothes on his bed. ‘Didn’t think so. See you in a few hours, Andy.’

‘Please,’ he begs, right at the same time as I hear his mom in the background yelling for him. ‘Yes, wait a minute!’ he yells. ‘Can I live with you? I feel like your mother never pushes you to do chores around the house.’

‘That’s because I do them voluntarily. If mom doesn’t do laundry, no one does it. If mom doesn’t clean the toilet, no one does it. Believe me, with a mom who all of the sudden turns a bit blind when it comes house chores, there is more to do here than there is at your place. Don’t you dare whine about it, Andrew Carter.’

We hang up and I grab a magazine from the table, reading through some of the articles. How to painlessly bikini wax yourself, how to get rid of strawberry legs, how to get yourself a man in a week.

Geez, mom, why do you read this?

No wait, better question: mom, why haven’t you gotten yourself a man in a week? This issue is three months old.

My phone rings again and without looking I answer, since I know exactly who is calling me. ‘Andy, I’m not helping you with your laundry,’ I say. ‘Shirts, sweaters and other items for your upper body go on a hanger and the rest with clothespins on a drying rack. How many times do I have to tell you that?’

‘Thank you for this wise, yet unnecessary lesson in laundry,’ mom says and I can hear her smile in her voice. ‘But laundry is your chore, so I pretend I didn’t hear it.’

‘What do you want?’ I ask my mom.

‘Wanted to know your plans for tonight.’

‘I was planning on hanging out with Andy,’ I say. Go outside, do some FindUrPricing. ‘Watch a movie. Probably sleep at his place. He is home alone, you know how he gets.’

Mom snorts. ‘Oh, do I know. How old was he when he rang our doorbell, nearly crying because he was afraid of the dark?’

‘The last time was a few months ago,’ I chuckle. ‘Why do you want to know my plans for tonight?’

‘You know,’ mom starts and I do know. ‘There is still a lot to do here at city hall.’

‘Right,’ I say, ‘and you wanted to know whether or not I mind. Mom, I’m your daughter, I truly don’t care.’

‘I’ll make it up to you,’ she says, mostly because she is trying to feel less guilty.

And I wouldn’t be her daughter if I wasn’t going to totally exploit her sweet offer. ‘So, you’re making breakfast for me and Andy tomorrow?’

She sighs. ‘Goodness gracious, really? I’m going to pull an all nighter.’

‘You wanted to be mayor and you’re also a mother. Deal with it.’

Mom scoffs. ‘And here I was thinking I was gonna get some sympathy from my daughter.’

‘Ew never,’ I say.

‘Well, I might just make breakfast for you, only if you eat it here. I might be your chef, but I’m not a waiter and I’m certainly not gonna walk it to the Carters.’

I scoff. ‘Okay, I think I can live with that.’

‘Alright, enjoy your night, Josie and don’t make it too late okay? Ten o’clock lights out, okay?’

No. ‘Of course. Bye mom.’

I look at the picture on the dining table. Despite not being blood related, my mom and I are really close. According to Andy’s mom, it never seemed like my mom would settle down. She moved to this boring place a few years prior to finding me on her doorstep. She was thirty and didn’t have a husband (nor had any intention of settling down with anyone—she turned down a lot of men who asked her out in Starfall Fields). Even back then, she was already a workaholic and worked over time as the mayor’s assistant.

One day, when she was getting herself ready for work, she heard soft cries from her front porch and when she checked it out, there was yours truly.

I was around a year old and in the cradle, there was a note saying that whoever found me, to take good care of me. My DNA wasn’t available in any database, just like there were no matches at all.

I have no idea who I am, who my biological family is and where I’m from.

Mom adopted me, because I only felt safe with her and since that moment, we were a duo.

A year and a half ago she became the mayor and since then she is everywhere in Starfall Fields, except home. I barely see her, but she does a lot for this town and I don’t think I have the right to whine about it, especially because it means many many sleepovers with Andy and many nights wandering around the woods to play FindUrPrice.

Sure, I miss her from time to time, because she’s still my mom. From someone who was home a lot, would wait for me on the porch no matter the weather when I came back from school and had chocolate pie ready for me and Andy, she changed to a real career woman who is everywhere in town.

But that’s okay, she’s happy and when she is, I am too. I should be, especially after everything she has done for me.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x becky kim #becky kim #asian ofc #sugar daddy!henry cavill #sugar sugar #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfic #becky kim is an author

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romantic-barnes · 5 years ago

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strawberry & tape | part one

| part one - the beginning or the end? |

Pairings: dark!biker!bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes has the town in his hands and a lot of blood. All you have is a cafe your mother left you after her passing. But as Bucky’s attention moves to you, do you have the strength to pay revenge for his wrongdoings? Does your push into the dark paradise end in love or blood?

Warnings: mention of non-con, possessiveness, mention of suicide, humiliation, animal cruelty. This is dark bucky! please don’t read if you are uncomfortable with any of the topics mentioned above!

A/N: Please don’t read if you are under 18! This series is inspired by This Is What Makes Us Girls by Lana Del Rey. Or just the whole album let’s be honest here. This is my first time uploading my dark fics so yeah, I love this, I loved writing this.

I’m just gonna tag some of my faves, you are under no obligation to read this! @imanuglywombat @mariessecretfantasies @sinner-as-saint @nsfwsebbie

There she stood, your best friend. A light Autumn breeze waving through the early spring trees, shivering the grass alive with it. Her shoulders shaking with the leaves, mumbling through her pink painted lips, whimpering and sobbing between words.

There wasn’t a word needed to express what happened, the petite girls’ tears flowing down her pretty face, carrying all the information with them.

She bunched up the skirt of her dress, fumbling with the seam before lifting it slowly and carefully. Her blood shot eyes watching you carefully as her lip trembles, fresh tears flowing.

Your eyes wandered down to the seam of her dress, slowly revealing the bruises on both her thighs. A hand covering your mouth, careful to not upset her, shake her, make her run. But there was little to hide, the agonising and painful pull at your heart.

She let the skirt fall, covering her thighs.

There was something you wanted to say, something reassuring, but the words could not slip past your lips. A simple ‘what happened’, a question reasonable.

“He- he touched me, and I said- I said n-no.” A string of sobs left her lips, closing her eyes. “He didn’t s-stop.”

You reached out to her, laying your hand on her shoulder, a light and careful pull. She stumbled towards you, laying her head on your shoulder. A thousand thoughts, but none delicate enough to say. You knew what happened as soon as she came walking up the street. A bittersweet romance turned poisonous. A possibility you saw coming.

The town doesn’t have a lot left for girls falling for the leather clothed men chasing them all over town. They turn their face away from them, whispering profanities. A lot of ‘told you so’, a lot of hot air from the people living in Dawn.

A lot of people think the town is possessed, cursed by witches from medieval times.

The smell of blood always wavers through the air as soon as you enter Dawn. Scientists say it’s chemicals, but none of that stays in the heads of the residents.

The old tale says that women used their period blood to seduce men, covering their desired man’s house in symbols to pull them into an everlasting love.

The town is built like a circle, a church in the middle, a poor attempt to rid Dawn of it’s evil. Before the church there was a town house, owned by the wealthiest man there was. Red scull, they called him, the origin story of the men in leather.

After him, the townhouse was torn down and a church was built, but not long after not even god was safe from Red Sculls son. The offspring who would bring the gang back to life.

They showed everyone who was in charge, blood was shed from anyone daring to refuse their power, deny them of what is theirs and so, the smell of blood never left. Always lingering in the air.

Generation after generation attracting folks who were looking for more control, but end up with blood on their hands, guilt on their faces. Only a few make it, with promises they couldn’t keep.

A town build on tales and make-believe.

You sat across the table from Lana, the girls’ hands wrapped around a mug, tears staining her pale complexion. He bottom lip trembled as she raised the mug to her lips.

“He needs to pay for this.” You said confidently.

Lana shook her head, her Bambi eyes wide with terror. “You’ll get yourself in trouble, you know what they can do, what they’re capable of. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with them.” A whimper escaped her lips.

You hung your head, defeated. There is truth to her words, but someone has to put an end to this. Another girl left on the curb, used and abused by the head of the clan. Another girls’ innocence stolen by force, without so much as a glance from the townsfolk.

An eerie silence fell, the presence of someone evil lingered around her.

Barnes.

A name no one who isn’t looking for trouble ever dared speak. Afraid it would somehow summon him, like a spell. A man as dangerous as his name, but just as beautiful as the devil created him. A curse not meant for the faint hearted.

His words are the national anthem here.

No matter if it’s a curse, spell or an enchantment, you’re not falling for it. Determined to defy the cliché of the weak woman falling for the devil’s son. A cliché in itself. A dangerous game to play, but a game, nonetheless.

You weren’t scared of a man trying to find a moment of thrill from an innocent soul.

The small cafe was empty, like every day it dawned on you day after day. Maybe that’s why your mother did what she did. A failure of a dream she had. Turn the family business into a cosy place, but the money stopped flowing slowly and steadily.

Standing at the counter with your apron, sundress adding to the sweetness of the aura your mother created. A place for the people who didn’t know of the more popular diner in the centre of town.

Your life threatened to become just like your mothers. No steady relationship, money slipping through your fingers, mundane days dripping with boredom. Your end was destined to end like your mothers, a sting of rope, swinging without life.

The pastries fresh from the oven, buttered and sprinkled with powdered sugar. A recipe your mother created. You set one down in front of you, a cup of coffee in your hand.

A break you didn’t really need, but took advantage of, nonetheless.

The bell above the door chimed, surprise overtaking you, but a look over your shoulder killed it instantly. Lana entered the cafe, still pale as ever. Her eyes shallow since that fateful day.

She sat across from you and you slid the plate over to her. Her small hands took the pastry, taking a bite. She loves your mom’s baking. “Can you pack up some of the strawberry ones for me?” A smile that didn’t reach her eyes stretched her lips.

A simple nod and you were about to stand when the bell over the door chimed once more and the look on Lana haltered you. The sound of heavy boots on the tiled floor.

The air filled with fuel and leather. You didn’t dare to look, in fact, you’ve never seen them other than when they rode their bikes through the streets, passing you.

“I think you forgot this.” One of them said, undoubtedly Barnes. A low and dangerous laugh echoed through the room, cutting through the tension.

A pair of panties hit Lana right on her chest, short breaths escaped her lips and you knew what this meant. Not much longer and the faucet would be running.

Anger bubbled inside you at the sight of her clutching the pair of pink lace panties. No matter how much danger radiated off from the man behind you, everything you knew about him was thrown out of the window.

You gripped the cup with your hand, an electricity searching its way through your veins. With the turn of your torso, not even sitting up from the chair you aimed the brown, hot liquid in his direction.

The cafe fell silent, all tension hit the floor as you met the eyes of the man stood in the middle of the room. Rage, that’s all you could read in his blue eyes. The two men standing behind him tightened their fists.

Time stood still, all eyes on you.

The only pair of eyes that you could focus on were the ocean blue ones staring right into yours. A death threat. Nothing but crime in his eyes and you right in his point of view. The shiver running down your spine left you cold. A single breath felt like a thousand daggers through your chest.

He moved, slow. Without a single second to react, his hand wrapped around your throat. “You little bitch.” He spat.

His voice ringed in your ears, but the rage bubbled back up, a stern look on your face. “How could you mock her after what you’ve done?”

You expected a lot of things. Maybe his hand tightening around your throat, or spitting on your face, but he retracted his hand.

A low chuckle from his lips and your face dropped, unconsciously softening. He studied you. Eyes moving from yours, to your cheeks, lips and raked over your body, stopping right on your cleavage.

“You’re going to pay for this, dollface.” he shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’re gonna wish you stayed in the shadows.” His smirk made you feel smaller than you wished it did.

Barnes and his entourage walked through the door, but he turned once more. “See you, y/n.”

It was difficult to decide whether the spotlight drawn to you by Barnes was worse than the fact that he already knew who you are. You relished in the fact that you never made direct contact with the Howling Commandos.

But now that comfort was stolen from you and you wondered what exactly they knew about you. It makes sense to you that they know the residents of their town.

A week passed. A week of anxiety. You tried to push away the thought of him, but each day you set foot into the cafe a flash of what happened passed before your eyes. Another memory added to the dread of this place, another one added to the one of your mother lifeless, swinging side to side.

Your fate isn’t as unusual as it may seem. No one truly gets out of Dawn, always bound to come back to take over the family business. Anyone stupid enough to move here sees the horror not long after, but it’s too late. Bound to the town and the town bound to them.

You breathed in and out, but the sound of motorcycles couldn’t find their way out of your ears. Was is a coincident that you heard the roar of their bikes more often this past week, or just your imagination.

Along with fear, a sense of responsibility and purpose raged within you. Somewhere in you. A purpose to teach him just how cruel the devil can be. What you have can be taken away from you.

Revenge is as sweet as strawberry jam.

Fun isn’t written very big in Dawn and unfortunately the only place to get wasted is the club house on the outskirts of town. A place full of the Howling Commandos, their wife’s, claimed women and men with a death wish written on their throat.

You let Lana in, leading her to the living room. A modest house, but a house, nonetheless. She sat next to you; her legs crossed. Two glasses were filled with red wine.

You handed Lana a glass, taking a big gulp of your own, eyes studying your friend with caution. It became harder to read her emotion, her face tainted by the horrors pushed upon her.

“How’s peter?” You asked between sips. A question to steer away from the million questions you had in your head instead.

“Oh, yeah he’s doing ok. He’s finally learned how to make a Bouquet.”

Peter started working at the flower shop a few weeks ago, revealing himself to be skilled in the field, a true eye for the delicate petals. A young man you wished she would’ve caught an interest in.

“But he’s been getting a little too nosy about the bikers,” her eyes watered, a sigh escaping your lungs. “he asked about him today.”

“Oh, Lana.” You pulled her side towards you, encasing her with your arms.

A knock on the door interrupted her quiet sobs, her big brown eyes staring into yours, a glimmer of fear hidden behind the glassy tears. Your feet carried you towards the door, hands shaking slightly as you turned the doorknob.

A man you recognise only by the patch on the shoulder of his leather jacket. A stern look mixed with boredom. A glance down to his hand and you saw the small brown package.

“For you.” A wicked smile spread on his grey bearded face.

You slowly reached your hand out to take the package away from him. The small bundle of brown paper rested in your hands. The man turned his back to you waling off to his motorcycle.

You stared at the package, backing away from the door after closing it. A twist in your stomach and you knew this wasn’t good, not in the slightest.

Lana walked over to you; questions written on her face.

Your senses kicked in, only now realising that the package is warm. A warmth spreading over your hands, but a cold shiver running down your spine.

You set the package down on the counter of the small kitchen. A look over to Lana and you untied the bow with caution. The brown paper loosened itself and from it oozed a stench of blood. As the layers were pulled away from the mysterious item, the brown turned red.

A gag from Lana and a shrill scream from you as the paper was pushed away. A heart revealed itself, bloody and fresh.

Lana looked to you teary eyed, a hand covering her mouth. You swallowed stepping away from the heart.

“You know what this means, right?” Lana whispered, barely audible enough to bounce off the walls. A shake from your head and Lana removed her hand from her face. “When one of- one of them sends you the heart of a deer- it uh- it’s kind of like a claim of the woman’s heart.”

If you weren’t so disgusted by the sight of the object and the stench of blood filling up the kitchen, you would have laughed at the ridiculousness. You lifted the corners of the paper, heart pounding, hoping to find the name.

Bucky Barnes.

There it stood in tar black ink. You didn’t know what you expected, but you hoped it would be any other name. But the gift is his’, a claim on your heart and your name.

[ part two ]

[ taglist open ]

#dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky #biker!bucky #biker!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x you #biker!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x y/n #dark!bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky x reader #strawberry & tape #clair writes

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timextoxhajima · 4 years ago

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HOSTIS, Chapter VIII: Invidia, Jealousy

BONUS TRACK: OVER - HONORS

Previous Chapter (VII: Partium)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): comedy, drama, angst, SMUT

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“why don't you stop thinking about me, and start thinking about yourself?”

"thanks for hosting the party. It's really not like the team to ask the newbie -- a new doctor -- to host the welcome party-- doctor kim, will you give me a second here?” your department head looks behind over his shoulder, and you spot the elder doctor pull on the car’s handle like he was a kid.

a smile of mischief turns up on your lips as doctor choi turns around, returning his attention back to lucifer.

can i just have eric send me home and i can text him--

"nah, it's nothing. i had fun anyway, didn't you?" the silence cues you to look up at lucifer, and you realise the question was directed at you.

"uh--" the stammer pulls a dark, uncertain smile from him. "yeah, i did."

"that's good," doctor choi looks around and nods. "thank you again."

"no problem."

doctor choi waves himself off, leaving lucifer, eric and you right at the door. doctor kim had a moment with the department head, yelling something at him before he pulled open the door and helped himself into the passenger’s seat. the vehicle drives off, and you were so ready to leave with eric.

the intern shows up right behind you with a small garbage bag, the light on his face never fading. eric flashes you a bright smile as you walk past him into the kitchen, thinking of grabbing some water before you leave.

"alright! so, where do we sta--"

"you're going home too, eric."

the instruction slaps a frown on your face, and you nearly choke on the water in your mouth.

"don't you need help clearing the garbage?" eric's voice rings from the living room while lucifer backs up into the kitchen, his smile disappearing with one turn when he sees you by the sink.

"no, eric! i don't want to be yelled at for making the intern stay to clean!" he yells with such a cheerful facade, but his face looked like he was about to stab you in the chest. "y/n's staying to help me clear up."

"what?" your voice came out in a low croak, the frown on your face cementing itself into your skin and facial muscles. "since when did i say i was going to stay and help y-- no!"

the man takes two large strides and stops by you, his breath pushing against your hair as he warns, "try saying no again and we'll see if you get in any less trouble."

his footsteps walk off to search for the nearest garbage bag, and your heart starts to pound with absolute anger and hatred.

"are... are you sure?" eric finally walks into the kitchen, but before you could respond, lucifer yells from behind you, garbage bag already in hand.

"yes, eric," he groans -- almost impatiently -- and he presses a palm flat against eric's back, literally pushing him out to the living room and to the door.

"oh, okay then. bye y/n! text me!"

"bye eric!" you yell back, but the door shuts behind lucifer where he left with eric so he could throw the garbage out.

the silence of the house falls on your shoulders, and you look around the kitchen to search for all the garbage you could throw -- or maybe hide them under his sofas.

dragging your arm across the counter top, you push all the empty cans and cartons and cups of beverages into the garbage bag. the soft chirping of crickets outside the back door was making you feel so comforted, but remembering that you were in his house doesn't make you feel any better than that.

just who does he think he is?

motherfucking son of a bitch really thinks he’s got some control over me--

why am i even here? i could’ve just stormed out and he wouldn’t be able to do anything.

should’ve just left with eric.

the garbage bag gets filled easily, and while tying a knot of the bag, you spot the edge of the napkin sticking out from the pocket of your jeans.

the bag drops to the floor and you pull out the napkin, the beautiful string of digits calling out to you like wedding bells and white curtains. the soft material morphs into something similar to an artefact or some prized possesion, and you fold it nicely to chuck it back into your pocket, keeping it out of sight while you pick up the garbage bag.

you were already reaching for the handle of the front door when it swings open, and his silhouette suddenly looked strangely intimidating with the porch lights shining from behind him.

"what are you smiling about?"

the eyeballs in your socket roll like bowling balls, and for a moment they were so strongly filled with irritation, they felt detached from you.

"nothing."

you tilt your shoulders and try to squeeze out between him and door frame, but his arm flies out and blocks your path. the movement warrants a sharp glare from you, and he cocks his head to the side, angling his head so that you could see his face now.

when was the last time this happened?

his office.

the day after he broke--

"drop the garbage bag and tell me what you're smiling about."

an exasperated sigh runs off your tongue, and you shake your head in annoyance. "can you just let me clear the fuck up and so i can go home?"

"now, who the hell said you're going home?"

"what the fuck are you talking ab--"

"drop the fucking garbage bag, and tell me about your little souvenir."

ares pushes a scoff out your throat and a smirk rides across your lips.

"if you already know then why are you still asking?"

but the smirk quickly runs off like it was scared, and you subconsciously shift backwards when he leans forward, both his arms now leaning against the frame of the door.

"because i want to hear it from you, tiger," he takes a step forward, the nickname setting off a billion sirens in your head. "so you know what you did wrong."

"wrong? and what exactly did i do wrong?" a mocking laughter pollutes the tense air between the two of you. your feet remain rooted to the floor, but he decides to stop right in front of you, his nose just inches away from your forehead.

"let's try again, shall we?" his hooks his finger through one of your belt loops and yanks you forward into his chest, your grip on the garbage bag tightening.

"look me in the eye and tell me what you did wrong."

the command sounded more like a threat, but maybe it was that kiss with eric that made you feel so powerful, even if it was just this moment. his pupils start to dig and tear its way into yours, but you could feel your chest burning with a fighting desire to win.

"i look in your eyes and i see one thing, wanna know what that is?"

his breathing hollows, and the realisation strikes somewhere deep inside you.

"jealousy," the word tasted like sugar and chocolate on your tongue, every syllable coming out like it was part of you, and arrogance start to rush through your blood. "you may be the tougher ares but i'm not the one who fell firs--"

harshly tugging on your belt loop again, the already tiny gap between the two of you was further reduced and your chest was now pressing against his. you sneer at the heavy breathing against your ear, eyes trying to stab his from the corner of your vision.

“i am the tougher ares, and you will know that tonight."

an image of your reflection in your own house flashes in your head, and the sight of it in the back of your memory jolts your consciousness.

"let me ask you, ares," his foot kicks the garbage bag so hard that it flies out of your grip. flashes of memory continue flitting through your head while he pushes you backward into the kitchen, his knuckles pressing into your stomach over the material of your jeans.

"what exactly were you expecting to happen after getting his number, hmm?" the view of him looking down at you was partially blocked by your long lashes, but it doesn't diminish the satisfaction your mockery of him offered you.

the most vital organ in your chest was thumping so hard in your head, yet you were wearing the smile of ares on your face, even as he asked the question.

your back hits the edge right by the sink, and there was nothing more gratifying than seeing him get pissed off from his lack of restraint over his pride and ego to outdo you.

even if it was flirting.

"you're just upset i have more game than you."

"and you're obviously not very disciplined when it comes to dicks."

"you're just pressed i had the balls to do whatever the fuck i wanted to in your house."

something cracks inside you and riles up the engulfing fire of desire to win this time round, and you tangle your fingers in the rim of his shirt.

his eyes widen for a split second before you pulled him into your face, your right fist balled against his collar bone and your left running down his chest to his groin.

the vibration of his groan into your mouth tasted like beer while you hungrily suck on his lips like you were trying to swallow the air out of him.

you could taste his lust starting to drip onto your tongue, and you abruptly push him off without releasing his shirt.

"aw, if you really wanted to kiss me, you should've just asked," tilting your head to the side, you watch his face twitch with a mixture of desire and anger.

you wonder for a split second if this was how you looked like the last time, but it doesn't matter anymore.

the bulge in your left palm gets larger and more prominent every second, and your eyes travel down to look at his need exposing itself to you.

"you know what your problem is? lee hyunjae?" words that slithered through your teeth sounded so alien, it was difficult to process the fact that you were saying it. you release the ball of cloth in your palm and press it flat against his chest, shoving him backwards against the kitchen island and releasing his groin.

his knuckles whiten from gripping onto the edge, and the lines of blood of his arm start to show themselves. there was a look on his face you couldn't really read.

but that wasn't the point, no.

"you never know when to stop," the gap between you closes as you walk towards him, the atmosphere between the two of you receiving nothing but fiery competitiveness radiating off the both of you.

the material hugging his thighs come into contact with your palm, and the heat pushes out a vein on his neck when you slide your hands up his thighs.

"and when it comes back to bite you, you find some lowlife method to get back at me."

the satisfaction starts to wear away and replaced with vengeance, your fingers reaching his groin.

his head gets thrown back when you slide your hand into the gap where his zipper was supposed to be, and you were nothing less than astonished -- or maybe not -- at how needy he was.

"so here's a suggestion for you," the button on his pants remain unbuttoned and it was visibly stressing the hell out of him.

it only added fuel to the fire burning in your chest.

"instead of cracking that head of yours to think of some... stupid way to piss me off..."

your hand shoves its way into his boxers messily and the movement obviously causes friction on his manhood, stirring all his sexual needs while it shows up on his face.

"why don't you stop thinking about me, and start thinking about yourself?"

your fingers brush and wrap around his shaft, and he bares his teeth with pent up anger. the veins on his neck and arms looked like they were about to burst, and your index fingers runs up his length to look for his tip.

"it'll take less effort anyway, given how small of a person you are."

the pre-cum gets dragged off its source and onto your finger pad, and the friction earns you a soft growl from him.

lifting your finger to your face, you wait for him to look at you; because you knew he couldn't resist the temptation.

the shine of him on your finger was so rewarding, paired with the look on his face... oh, how priceless it was to finally feel like you've won.

your tongue falls out between your lips and you press your finger onto your own taste buds, never once breaking your eye contact with him.

remembering every single thing he did to you just over two weeks ago was enough to push you further.

your lips close around your finger before pulling it out with a loud 'pop', and nothing in the world would've been able to replace what it felt like to be standing here, watching lee hyunjae be picked and eaten at with your small gestures.

"nice to know it didn't take any fucking to break you, tiger."

a loud snicker bursts through your auditory system as you hold his jaw, shaking his face like he was a dog.

victory and triumph were already sitting on each your shoulders, pushing your chin upwards with arrogance when you turn on your heels, ready to take your belongings and leave the house.

your train of action was, unfortunately, hurled out the window when you were aggressively yanked backwards by your belt loop again.

his arm snakes around your waist to pull you before him.

without warning, he shoves his lips between yours, one hand pressing on your lower back and the other running up past your chest and around your throat.

the familiar grip starts to devour you in shivers, the kiss ripping your mind away from the truth you thought you just won yourself.

a soft whimper escapes your throat when he pulls away, and the gentle vibration of the noise makes you hate yourself instantly. that sickeningly familiar smirk draws itself on his face, and he plunges back into your lips once again.

the rim of his shirt gets balled up in your hands again when he starts walking you backwards, and your breathing becomes painfully challenging when he violently shoves his tongue through your lips.

you marvel at his strength and fight, and the familiar ghost of eros starts to emerge from the depths of your submission.

you already knew you were fighting a losing war.

the lack of vision reminds you that your body shut your eyes upon the contact, and the taste of beer on his tongue was so threatening, it was almost like your physical desires were telling you it needed him.

your rear hits something hard, and the back of your legs press against a flat surface, the leather cushion telling you that it was the back of a sofa.

"you really pushed all the wrong buttons back there, tiger."

the nickname and everything associated with it comes crashing back down onto you for the second time that night, and there was something in his eyes that made you feel the same way you did the last time you saw it.

"and for the record, i think i recall you having fun while i broke you."

blaring sirens go off in your head when the rim of your jeans start to get pulled and tugged on, the recklessness of his moves while he pushes the tight material off your skin was bound to leave red marks.

his tongue starts to fight with yours again, and his palms squeeze the flesh on your ass so tightly that it earned him a loud, prolonged groan. you break the kiss to lament at your own reaction, but he dives back in while your jeans pool around your ankles.

shivers run through your body and into your bare legs when his hands find the arc of your exposed collarbone, the cold touch of his fingerpads slapping you across the face for your choice of outfit tonight.

the impact and pushing of his lips against your neck and collar starts to weigh on you, eros decides to help you snake your hands up his pumped arms and wraps them around his neck.

the soft squelching sound of his lips and tongue on your skin was beginning to have the same effect on you as classical music did, but instead of helping you feel relaxed, you could feel yourself getting wetter down below.

his hands find rim of your top , pulling them up and over your head before tossing it aside. the air kissing your skin start to yank and pull on your nerves violently, releasing a more intense heat in your underwear that you hated to feel.

he pulls from your collar just to remove his shirt, and the sight of his skin makes you start to want him even more.

there was a single vein that ran from his left pectoral muscle and into his arm, and that same vein travelled all the way down to his hand. the dark lighting was supposed to work in your favour, especially after kissing eric, but it strangely only accentuated all the contours on his torso.

every single line was shadowed, and the mere sight of his pelvic bones disappearing under his belt kills you on the inside.

your head whips away once you’ve realised you stared at him for way too fucking long, but your natural instincts start to kick in at the thought of him throbbing inside you.

it was agonising to admit that you did enjoy him breaking you.

his arm wraps around your bare waist and pulls you away from the sofa, and your vision only now decides to notice the full-length mirror sitting right by the sofa.

suddenly you were standing right in front of it, with his silhouette towering over yours from behind. the only source of light now was from the kitchen, so you could barely make out his face besides feeling his heavy breaths on your shoulder. your back was pressed into his chest and his tongue starts to run across the length of your neck.

mewls and lewd noises start to wash off your lips when his left hand digs under your underwear from the front, with his right arm coming around the front to lock your jaw and face so you were forced to look yourself in the mirror.

the excessive exposure of skin and all his muscles overpowering yours sets off a billion firecrackers in your head, and it gets worse when his finger finds your sensitive nub under the material.

"i don't suppose... eric will ever be able to get you this wet, hmm?” the question sings itself into your ear, loaded with poison and gut wrenching truth as you let the words sink into your core.

the circles he was drawing on you was making you pool, and the view of yourself squirming and writhing within hold was only pushing you further into eros’ desires for you.

“we haven’t even started, tiger,” his lips plant themselves to your neck, and you see the shine in his eyes staring into yours through the mirror.

your face was a mess and your hair was all over the place, he had one hand down your underwear and the other supporting your jaw.

eros didn’t even let you fucking try.

his finger starts to spreads your wetness all around you, and the lubrication only helped him fiddle with your nub. gravity starts to act on your head and you slowly start to hang it with shame, letting him eat the skin on your neck like it was candy.

the back of his hand shoves your jaw upwards again, and his fingers dig into your cheek to keep your eyes facing the mirror.

“keep your eyes open, darling,” his hand in your south starts to push it downwards, and the material comes off your hips, sliding down your legs to your boots which were still fucking on.

“we are nowhere near done and i don’t want you to miss a second of it.”

the grip around your jaw returns back around and your bra loosens it’s hold around your chest, and the light tap of the metal hooks on the back when it hits the floor cues you to shut your eyes and turn away from the mirror.

“open your eyes and watch me ruin you,” a finger gets pushed into you from the front, and a small whimper starts to push tears into your tightly shut eyes. “i’ve broken you once, and you will watch me break you again.”

“not eric, me.”

(to be directly continued)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter IX: Phtonos

#hyunjae smut #hyunjae fanfic #hyunjae #the boyz #the boyz hyunjae #lee hyunjae #timetohajima #WHOA #i cant

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wincestismyguiltypleasure · 5 years ago

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Sam didn't sleep much.

Sometimes he had nightmares, sometimes it was just good 'ol fashion insomnia that kept him up for hours on end. Either way, the lack of rest always made him irritable and mean. Which, given his current status as an emotional sixteen year old boy, was frustrating because he really didn't need help in either of those departments. Especially on days when he had to get up early.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!"

"Fuck off," Sam grumbled, forcing himself to roll out of bed.

"Mornin' to you too, kiddo," his brother chuckled as he reached out to ruffle Sam's hair. Carefree smile fading from his lips when Sam slapped his hand away and shot him a dirty look.

"What crawled up your ass and died?"

In response, Sam stared daggers at his big brother; clearly agitated that Dean had the audacity to ask such a stupid question. Like he wouldn't be pissed as shit if Sam came at him with that kind of enthusiasm after barely getting three hours of sleep.

"Really?" Sam asked sarcastically as he cocked his head to the side. What the Hell was wrong with his brother right now?

Most of the time, Dean was sympathetic to Sam's situation. He'd let his little brother lay in bed as long as he could without John losing his shit, and he would rub Sam's back, trying to relieve some of the tension that the lack of sleep put there. He'd even let his brother get out of training when their father wasn't around to force the issue. Anything to let Sam rest when he was exhausted like this.

But Sam could tell by the dangerous look in Dean's eyes that today was going to be different. He wasn't going to take it easy on Sam, so Sam sure as Hell wasn't going to take it easy on Dean.

"Deep throat a cactus, asshole."

Sam puffs out his chest and sets his jaw when Dean gets in his face, but that evil grin tugging at the corner of his brother's lips makes his knees feel unsteady.

"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed this mornin', huh princess?"

Sam shoves Dean hard in the chest before he can think better of it, his brother letting out a string of curses as he stumbled backwards a little bit.

"That's it."

"Ow! What the Hell, Dean?!" Sam shouted, rubbing his arm gingerly where his big brother had just punched him. He knew Dean was going to retaliate, he just didn't think the older boy was going to be so savage about it. "That hurt!"

"Aw, baby."

The inflection in Dean's voice was strange, sounding like something caught between comfort and insult. He was rubbing Sam's arm now, soothing the ache. And that odd look on his face, coupled with his weird tone made Sam feel really funny. Like he was too hot and too cold all at the same time.

"Did you seriously just sucker punch me then call me baby?" Sam asked incredulously, letting out a high pitched yelp when Dean's soft touch turned to iron and he yanked Sam forward by his bruised arm. The two of them nose to nose, staring each other down like an alpha wolf squaring up with a rebellious pup.

"That wasn't a term of endearment, Sam. I was calling you a baby," Dean said with a shit eating grin; the condescending tone of his voice making his little brother blush all the way down to his toes.

"Fuck. You."

Sam had to fight back a needy whimper when Dean tighten his grip. Every instinct he had in his body suddenly urging him to roll over and bare his neck to the older boy.

What the actual fuck was going on?

"Boys!"

Sam nearly jumped out of his skin when John came busting through the door, clapping his hands and telling them to get a move on.

"Bitch," Dean muttered under his breath before finally letting Sam go, careful to dodge the wild punch his little brother threw in retaliation.

"Jerk."

-------

Sam's anger did not subside once they were on the road. His cheeks heating up again at the very thought of his brother humiliating like that. It even made him squirm a little when he remembered the sound of Dean's voice, low and full of mock sympathy.

But there was also something calming about that tone. That made his eyes glaze over and his body tingle. Fuck! How was he half-hard and on the verge of falling asleep in the backseat right now? This was the most relaxed he'd felt in forever. And what for? Because his brother had been a dick back to him for once?

Honestly, just thinking about how stupid that sounded made Sam's blood boil. And he made sure Dean knew that by kicking his seat as hard as he could a few times just for spite. John yelled at him, of course but it was so worth it to see his big brother outwardly as frustrated as Sam felt on the inside.

However, by the time they'd reached the diner exhaustion had set in and Sam was less concerned about making Dean's life miserable and more concerned about getting comfortable. Automatically resting his head on Dean's shoulder the minute the older boy slid into the booth next to him.

Dean shot him an annoyed sideways glance, not a surprise, but didn't try to push him away.

And the hypocrite in Sam wanted to tell Dean to stop acting like an asshole and cuddle him, but he refrained. For his sake and Dean's.

"Sam quit hanging on your brother and sit up," John chastised as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and tossed them on the table.

"Whatever."

Sam huffed loudly and slumped over, his arms folded under him so he could rest on the table. Purposefully slouching because John had told him not to.

"You need to check that attitude, son," his father warned, but Sam barely registered John's words. His brain was too busy short circuiting over the fact that Dean's hand was now resting on his right thigh. Long, talented fingers gently trailing up the seam of his jeans and then back down.

His touch was light, almost playful, but that didn't stop Sam's leg from shaking under the pressure of it.

"What can I get y'all to drink?" A sweet voice snapped Sam out of his daze, eyes darting over to the pretty brunette standing at the edge of their table, regarding her wearily.

"I'll take a coffee, sweetheart. Thank you." John said with that killer smile that always made chicks swoon.

"Milk and sugar?" the waitress asked with a soft giggle and Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes. Yuck.

"Black, please."

Once Dean had ordered the same it was Sam's turn, and much to his father's dismay, he didn't even sit up when he grumbled chocolate milk at the lady without so much as looking at her.

Big mistake.

"Ouch!" Sam shot up when he felt his brother pinch the inside of his thigh, knee connecting with the bottom of the table hard enough to make the silverware rattle.

"Manners, Sam. This nice lady is just trying to do her job," Dean said through gritted teeth in the most civil tone he could muster. Rough fingertips caressing the bruise that had started to bloom across Sam's delicate skin before inflicting more damage. Only this time, he added a twisting motion that left the younger boy with tears in his eyes.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Sam apologized as Dean started rubbing his thigh again, the intense mix of pain and pleasure sending little electric shocks up his leg. Unbearable heat pooling deep in the pit of his stomach as he struggled to find his words.

"May I please have a glass of chocolate milk?"

"Of course, sweetie. And don't worry. I'm always cranky before noon," the waitress said with a wink before turning on her heels and disappearing into the kitchen.

"Sa-"

John was just about to lay into his youngest when Dean caught Sam by the jaw.

"Dean, wha-"

"You gonna start behavin' any time soon?" Dean growled, his bright green eyes full of rage.

God, he was beautiful and terrifying and Sam had no idea why that made him want to defy Dean even more. He wanted to push his brother, poke and prod until Dean snapped like an overstretched rubberband. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that was making him so defiant? Or maybe it was the unspoken desire Sam had for Dean to flip him on his back and fuck the attitude out of him that had the younger boy so ready to fight?

"Nope," Sam replied, making sure to put a dramatic emphasis on the P in nope so it would pop just like Dean hated. Fuck, he just wanted the older boy to make him feel like he had earlier. Embarrassed and completely turned on. So relaxed that his body felt like it was floating.

"Mmhm," Dean hummed as if to say we'll see about that, before letting go of Sam's chin to shove his face away. Much to the younger boy's disappointment.

It hurt, but Sam didn't let it show, uncried tears welling up in his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest with a huff.

"I'm going for a walk."

Sam was honestly surprised when John didn't try to stop Dean from storming out, but when he turned to see his father's tired eyes studying him, he knew exactly why he hadn't.

"Christ," John muttered, shaking his head as he pulled a cigarette from the pack on the table. "You two need to stop this bullshit."

Sam bit his trembling bottom lip and looked away. The ambiguity of his father's statement making his stomach go sour.

"I didn't do anything," Sam lied, suddenly finding himself stroking the throbbing bruises Dean had made on his inner thigh with his thumb.

Unable to stop himself from wondering if his brother had really left because he wanted to calm down, or if he was just out there fuming, thinking of all the violent methods he could use to make Sam behave.

Shit. The uncertainty of it all sent a chill up his spine.

God, Sam hoped they were on the same page with this. And he prayed that Dean's anger didn't stop him from tumbling to the same conclusion he had come to earlier in the car. That the best way to help Sam get some sleep and stop acting like an asshole was for Dean to break his little brother down and then fuck him unconscious.

#Wincest #Weecest #the moral of this story is that Sam humiliation kink Winchester needs a hard f u c k and a long nap #I mean don't we all #lmfao #seriously I don't know what this is #I just like writing about violent flirty brothers

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blackstonesandtrapnest · 4 years ago

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Drunk In Love

Since NANA Week is here, I figured it would be the perfect time to post this amazing songfic starring Shin and one of my OCs for NANA who can be found here!

The song that I used for this is Drunk In Love by Beyonce and Jay-Z which you can listen to here! I hope you enjoy! Also just to clarify, Shin is indeed aged up for obvious reasons!

How the hell did this shit happen?

Gwendolyn woke up in her kitchen of all places and she was only in her panties. But she wasn't alone. Someone was laying beside her. Shinichi Okazaki. The bassist for the band Blast. Who was only wearing a bathrobe. Feeling weak and shaky, Gwendolyn immediately rushed to her bedroom and grabbed her glucose monitor to test her blood sugar. Being a Type 1 diabetic was quite the pain in the ass sometimes. Seeing that her levels were low, Gwendolyn immediately went for her sweet stash which she had hidden away in her closet for times like these. As she ate some cookies, she took off the underwear and put on a silk bathrobe along with a new pair of panties. As Gwendolyn began to feel better and checked her blood sugar again, she could hear Shin entering the room. How in the hell could he not be hung over considering how much he had to drink last night?

"You ok baby girl?" Shin asked as he walked over to Gwen and sat down on her bed. That boy was just so damn irresistible to her! He was like an addiction that she needed to have where ever, whenever, however. Shin made Gwen feel alive.

"I've been drinking, I've been drinking. You know I'm not supposed to be drinking Shin." Gwendolyn avoided drinking since she was a diabetic and last night was the first time she had any kind of alcohol. Good thing Gwendolyn had her first drinks over at Nana and Hachi's place where dinner was also being served so her blood sugar didn't crash while she was drinking. Before Gwendolyn went there, she was at a club with BLAST, dancing and having a good time with Shin whom she had gotten quite close to since she had been selected to dance in BLAST's latest Music Video which was scheduled to release today.

"I don't see why you shouldn't. You get filthy when that liquor gets into you. I like it. All I could think about was how you couldn't keep your fingers off me. I didn't know you wanted me so much."

Gwendolyn's face was on fire as she turned away from Shin, completely embarrassed as she recalled last night's escapade that apparently lasted all night. Good thing she was on birth control as she could NOT afford having a kid right now. She was still in college for God's sakes!

"Shut up Shin! I felt like an animal with those cameras all up in my grill! Flashing Lights, flashing lights! Last thing I remember is our beautiful bodies grinding up in that club."

Once everyone had gotten back to Nana and Hachi's apartment, Hachi already had a large dinner prepared to celebrate the music video and it was a large feast to behold! When the drinks came out, shit started to get real. Gwendolyn was adamant about not drinking any alcohol but Shin was a persistent son of a bitch. But he did make sure that the drinks were sweet and that she had plenty of food per her request.

"Don't forget the living room too. And the kitchen. Wanna add the bedroom to that too?" Shin purred seductively as he scooted closer to the edge of the bed and grabbed Gwendolyn's ass before smacking it. In response, she whirled around and huffed in annoyance. "You insatiable pervert! What is it with you and my behind?!" Shin was a rather touchy person when it came to Gwendolyn and he wasn't afraid to show just how much he loved her curvy body despite her insecurities about it.

"Don't act so shy now Gwen. Where's all that mouth that you had last night? Time to back it up sweet thing. I wanna see all the shit that I heard."

Shin wrapped his arms around Gwendolyn's waist and pulled her into his lap, causing her to squeal. "Shin what the hell?!" Gwendolyn was silenced by Shin's lips covering her own in a kiss that one could only describe as intoxicating. The next thing she knew, Shin was on top of Gwen, hastily taking off her robe and tossing it to god knows where.

Seeing the sexy panties that Gwen had on made Shin quite impatient. He simply slid them right to the side, not having the time to take them off on sight.

Shin was quite the vigorous lover and how he didn't catch a charge for beating the box up like Mike Tyson in 1997 was beyond Gwen's understanding but she was experiencing too much ecstasy to give a damn. It was like Shin was Ike Turner and Gwen was Anna Mae with the way he was making her suck his dick. But she wouldn't have it any other way.

After all, Gwen was drunk in love.

#nana anime #nana fanfiction #shinichi okazaki #shinichi okazaki x original character #Ai Yazawa #songfic #bringing sexy back #nana week #7daysofnana #ambw #nana manga

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cobblepottantrum · 5 years ago

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ACNH HC

PPG edition

so me and my friends on a server were discussing about how the powerpuff girls and rowdyruff boys would play the game, and i took it upon myself to write it all down. This isnt every single one and all of these were created in a mixture of mine, @empress-lulu-of-mischief and @toxicovee minds (possibly other so if i left you out im sorry!!!) Just something fun and silly to think about.

its long so ill break it up. Let me know if you have any others :)

Blossom: She had played New Leaf and loved being the mayor so only being a resident was a low blow for her. In that case her island is always 5 star because she would have nothing less. When it comes to how her island looks, it's perfect. It's symmetrical and her villagers have a cute little town that looks oddly like Townsville. She prefers the natural looking stone compared to Bubbles bright pathways. Her favorite thing is the museum and she will donate everything one by one so that Blathers will tell her everything, it's kind of insane. She does this with Celeste too and has little information signs everywhere. She doesn’t really like doing the custom designs for clothes but will occasionally.

When it comes to the flowers, she only likes the red, pink and white ones. She only plants those and if any colorful ones come up, she gives them to Bubbles or has giveaways on her island. She has giveaways on her island where up to five people can come and ask her questions like a little meet and greet.

She doesn’t time skip too often but she did go back in April for the cherry blossom DIYs which her entire house is pink and cute. When it comes to her outfits, she wears the red bow and Bubbles made their old school dresses so she usually has on her pink dress. Her villagers are all pink and she likes having the snooty ones best. She won’t hesitate to complain to Isabell and she will take a net to them.

Game Name: Blossom Island Name: The Good Place (Was Townsville but Bubbles told her no) Fav Characters: Blathers, Celeste and Tom Nook Fav Villagers: Flora, Merengue, Pinky, Whitney, Audie, Raymond Fruit: Cherry Flag: Her iconic red bow with a pink background Tune: The ppg theme song (it's actually mine too)

Bubbles: The queen of custom design and the hybrid hoarder. Her custom kiosk is constantly being used as everyone wears and uses her designs. Her island is filled with pastel blue pathways and the cutest decor ever. She mostly has small parks and cafes and is still trying to get past her 4 star ranking for KK Slider. She loves the hamster and small villagers and refuses to hit them with nets (except for the monkey who was mean but that's ok). She revolves around her flower gardens and she will yell at you if you try to steal her golden roses. No time skipping for her because she likes the slow pace of the game.

Every morning she goes to every villager and talks with them and sends them gifts. The Able Sisters is her favorite place and she mostly buys things for her villagers. Her musem isn’t even close to being complete because she is scared of the bugs except for the butterflies. The fish she is okay with but the moment she saw the tarantula she closed her game. If one of the girls or boys is on her island, they will catch everything for themselves. Her terraforming skills are off the charts since she likes design so much and everywhere you turn there is a waterfall covered with flowers but absolutely no weeds.

She loves having people come to her island. She sends out Dodo Codes for flower watering and trading. Everyone brings her gifts and it's now a running gag to bring blue flowers. Her player is always changing styles and hair colors but she always has custom heart cheeks.

Game Name: Bubbs Island Name: Sugar Shore Fav Characters: Leif, All the Able Sisters Fav Villagers: Bunnie, Cookie, Merry, Bubbles because duh Fruit: Apples Flag: Intricate bubble pattern with flowers Tune: She changes it from one disney song to the next

Buttercup: She wasn’t too thrilled about the game as she never played the other ones before. However she does start to like it as it's relaxing and helps with her anxiety. She's a grinder and always has money. She designed her island to have different areas based on her favorite movies and sport areas. She likes the jock and lazy villagers and will not hesitate to smack them with her nets. She hates how long dialogue takes and smashes the buttons violently.

She breeds the black flowers and her house is surrounded by them. She likes to catch the fish and every night she goes to as many islands as possible for taratuna hunting. She only allows her best friends to come to her island because the log screens are a pain. Her island is nice and cool and she time skips like crazy and likes the turnip stock market. Other than that she's not too obsessed with it and her villagers get upset when she leaves them for days at a time. The only custom thing she makes is movie posters and band album covers. Hidden around the island are magical summoning circles and fake blood, Bubbles hates it.

She likes CJ’s fish challenges and half her island is covered in bugs for Flick. Her player has the bandages and custom fake blood as well as spooky outfits that she gets from other people's codes.

Every time she catches a snail, she sends it to Butch with a message “its you” attached.

Name: BC Island Name: Spice Shack Favorite Villagers: Kid Cat, Bam, Phil, Bruce Fav Character: Cj and Flick Fruit: Orange Flag: Green skull with a black background (bubbles made it) Tune: Opening to “Welcome to the Black Parade)

Brick: Stock Market King, Mr. Richie Rich, Snob. After Boomer told him to play and gave it to him, he became obsessed with the stock market. Every Sunday is turnip day and he spends the week finding the highest selling price, usually his twitter followers will invite him and he will leave them a bunch of Nook Tickets. He time skips like crazy, cheats and he wears the crown without hesitation. His island is 5 star spotless and shows off the rarest items. If you wanna come to his island then you must pay up. He is the person who you hate because you wanna be him. He has only the top tier villagers and will call you poor. He doesn’t bother with custom designs and if he wants something then Bubbles is the one to go too. He used an island planner beforehand to make sure everything was in place. The moment something new comes out, he's on top of it. He doesn’t really care if a villager is ugly or cute, if they are highly wanted, he gets them.

If you happen to be dating him, you must wear the matching crown to prove that you are the best because it's what you deserve.

Name: Lord Brick Island Name: Bricktopia Favorite Villagers: Audie, Marshall, Raymond, Bob Fav Character: Redd, Daisy Mae (He is her bitch and sets his alarm) Fruit: Peaches Flag: Red flag with a crown on it (made by bubbs of course) Tune: He doesn't know and he doesn’t care because he plays on mute.

Butch: Disater. His island is always messy and he doesn't care too much about the atmosphere but he does like the bugs and is a simp for Isabell. He saves all the snails BC gives him and puts them in his snail room or the army room. He becomes serious about the game a little later and sooner follows Brick with all the cheats. They dominate the stock market like bosses

He doesn't talk that much with the villagers but spends time hitting them with nets if they are ugly. He keeps Butch without a doubt and moves his house next to his cause they are bros but all of his villagers are cats only for the reason to make jokes. (pussy island)

His island is like a living meme as he has random images in the sand. His house is simple but a punk rock domain and he wont tell anyone that he spent hours making the green day album covers for his wall. He doesn't have too many flowers but prefers the bamboo look more. His favorite item to wear is the hockey mask and he put fake blood face paint on. His island is like a horror game instead and Bubbles refuses to come to his island because it's scary. He also likes to make mazes out of hedges.

After a while he restarts his island and son time travels and has the island buffets where people pay to come get materials and objects. He becomes an AC king in no time and likes that he can make money. (the only people allowed on his island without payment is the girls, his brothers and his friends, other than that, pay up)

Name: Butch Island Name: Butch Pad Fav Villagers: Butch, Bob, Olivia, Stinky, Tom (litrally just cats and Butch) Fav Character: Cj and Kicks Fruit: Pears Island flag: A snail with a skull on its shell Island tune: Mr. Brightside opening

Boomer: This boi right here is the AC King. He's played every single game since he was little (always made fun of by his brothers but look at you Brick). He knows all the AC lore and will go into detail about Tom Nook and Redds past plus he is the biggest shipper of Flick and Cj. His island is terraformed perfectly and he has literally everything you could want. He time skipped for a little bit but never cheats.

He is a twitch streamer and everyone tunes in the moment Boomer is on. He allows for five people to come on his island a day to play games and get DIYs that he already has. He's a humble player who knows his way around everything. He doesn’t care too much about which villagers come and go but Audi is his favorite as the back story suggests. He just wants to complete it all except he will never be able to catch wasps, he sucks at it. However he rarely misses a fish and also has piles for Flick and CJ.

He is an avid hybrid flower person and any extras, he gladly gives away. Bubbles gets the first pick. He is surprisingly good at custom designs and makes everything himself. His island has little cafes and band areas as well as a perfect view of KK Slider because he is a 5 star island for sure.

He owns AC Merch and buys fanart from other people because he is obsessed. He got Brick Daisy Mae socks and he catches him wearing them every Sunday for good luck.

His player looks like him but also wears the crown (he got it first anyways). His house has all the instruments and has a nod to all his past houses.

Name: Boomer Island Name: Big Blue Fav Villagers: Boomer, Bubbles, Audi, Tad Fav Character: Isabell, Timmy and Tommy, Cj he loves them all. KK SLIDER Fruit: Cherry Flag: His flag changes weekly as his subscribers have flag comps each week and he uses the winner as his flag Tune: He is an Og and didn’t change the song.

Ships and how they play:

Reds: Museum dates. They love walking through the museum while talking on the phone and wandering around. Brick brings her a pink rose each visit and Blossom places them around her house. Usually when they are on each other's islands they are facetiming or talking and they just kinda run around and don't do much before getting off and focusing on each other. Blossom brings him gold flowers because he is a snob but he secretly appreciates it. Blossom has to take off the bow and wear the crown because only the best can be on his island. She makes him wear a red hat when he comes onto her island. Sometimes they have fishing competitions and whoever wins gets to brag on the bulletin board.

Blues: Dates!! When they visit the other islands, they go back and forth all day, exchanging hybrid flowers and catching butterflies. Bubbles talks to every villager he has and they each made a secret picnic spot on their islands for them. If he is streaming, she is mostly likely watching and or playing with him. They can spend hours just talking and running around and they just craft and decorate together. She helps him fix his house up and “I love bubbles Is written in the sand that can clearly be seen from the plane loading screen. They always give things and write love notes on their boards. Together they host games on their island and it's always on a certain day. There's at least a queue of 100 people each time.

Greens: They hit each other with nets and axes for five minutes before switching to a fighter game and hopping on with the boys. But if they manage to stay on longer, Butch and Buttercup just cuss consatntly and leave eachother gross notes on the bultin boards. The play hide and seak and Butch likes to dig up her flowers and make a mess of her island before she does the same to his.

COLOR CRACK:

Brick x Bubbles: He constantly is paying off her debut because she doesnt time skip or grind for her money. She never asks him to but she opens her mailbox to find bags of money and rare items. She makes his red sweater and when he goes to her island that's the only time he removes his expensive outfits. In the back of his island he grows hybrid flowers for her. She makes his custom designs and shows him how to boost his flower production and villager points.

Brick x Buttercup: He likes calling her poor. He is insulted by her island being boring and gives her gifts but she sells them to piss him off. They are the most competitive pair when it comes to fishing and she likes to dig in random places and drop items to make him mad. He’ll walk around and find thirty sticks everywhere and call her. It's about teasing with them and good fun. They are also the turnip couple overlords and constantly are looking for the best princes.

Boomer x Blossom: Boomer knows everything about AC and Blossom loves learning about the stories. He gives her tours of the museum and everytime she has a new villager, he explains their past. He gifts her pink flowers and she helps him complete his museum with fossils. He will have people come to his island and she even has meet and greets with people. It's simple and fun.

Boomer x Buttercup: Boomer gets BC addicted to the game. No other person can make her care so much about these animals than her soft boyfriend. He shows her all the secrets and how to make her island amazing. She becomes obsessed and is soon rivaling Brick for best island, Blossom knows hers is better. Buttercup likes to grind and travel for materials and anytime Boomer says he needs to find some more wood, she has it sent to his island in no time.

Butch x Blossom: Sir is a simp for Pinky. He enjoyed listening to her talk about the fossils in the museum and when she flew to his island “Blossom is Hot” was written on the ground. Even though her island is thriving , he constantly sends her gifts and things. His favorite thing to do is to run on her island and leave a random heart patch for her to find. She doesn’t exactly approve of his methods of making people pay money to get stuff but him allowing her to get whatever she wants, she turned the other cheek because if people want to spend money so be it.

Butch x Bubbles: He hits her villagers and she yells at him. He also likes to take her flowers one by one and replace them with normal one. He tried taking her golden rose but she cried and he called her to make sure she was ok. Now he doesn't mess with her but finds himself growing her flowers. She doesn’t come to his island because it's spooky but he made a little spot on the beach and “Bubble Safe Zones”. She tends to have the best items for sale so whenever he visits he shops a lot. They like to fish together and she shows him how to plant flowers and make his island nice. After he decides to restart and make his island a shopping paradise, Bubbles gets anything she wants especially since she doesn’t time skip. If there's something rare that he only has one of, she gets it.

Bonus: (doesn’t matter which ship)

-Blossom once had turnips for 800 bells and did not let Brick come on her island because he said something about the bow being dumb. He instantly regretted and called her and begged, the man begged over the phone for her to open the gates. She did at the last second.

-Butch once stole Bubbles gold rose and the entire city heard her sonic scream. He put it back and waters it daily. (She screamed cause she saw a spider on the wall but it got him to but the rose back)

-Boomer and Blossom know about the AC lore and often have long discussion on his stream about different

-Nintendo contacted the girls and for a new event they made the powerpuff girls as villagers you could have. Blossom is a preppy wolf named Blossom, Bubbles is a sisterly duck named Bubbles and Buttercup is a jock cat named Butters. Each of them are themed to their signature color and each offers a special diy. (they sent the girls amiibos and codes to get their own) Big Bow Bookshelf (Bow shaped bookshelf with blossoms signature), Heroes Bedtime(replica of the childhood bed), Hotline Phone, Heavenly Hearts Rug (the heart ending screen rug), Bubbly vanity (three giant blue bubbles that look like a mirror with bubbles signature), BC Bean Bag (bean bag that is green with Buttercups signature). Crime Fighters wallpaper (wallpaper that has the famous pink, blue and green streaks), Pink Poster, Green poster, and Blue poster, PPG Poster (has all three girls on it)

-Each girl has a special memorial on their island for Bunny. It is just a patch of Purple roses and all of them are near their house.

#ppg #rrb #The Powerpuff Girls #acnh #animal crossing hc #ppg hc #reds #greens #blues

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preface2adreamplay · 4 years ago

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No More Light (Chapter 1)

Summary: John is on a stakeout. But finds his attention is on a woman who moves into an apartment below the one he’s meant to be watching.

John Winchester & original fictional character. Eventual smut, plenty of angst.

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 1,513

SERIES MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

She’d moved in a week ago. I’d seen a car pull up in the dead of night when I was on lookout, third night in a row. It was one of those nights when the moon is glaring back at you, telling you ‘boy, there ain’t nothing you can hide from me tonight.’ The few possessions she had took two journeys from car to stairwell. The next morning, when I was rolling onto the sheets, muscles achin’, she was there at her balcony. I pulled the dusty plastic blinds apart with my fingers and watched her from my bed. Her hands wrapped a mug of hot somethin’ or other. I’d like to think she takes cream in her coffee, no sugar, she’s sweet enough. She didn’t know I was lookin’. Sleep overtook me then, I was dead to the world til the sun started dipping low. One cold shower later I decided to get out and get some food. Some good food, not the trash I’d been living on the past few days. The problem with getting older is that I can’t eat crap and I can’t get by on coffee and booze any more. Besides, if I were to start to talking to some chick at a bar, would she be half as interested in me if there weren’t the promise of an old guy that looks like he is a stallion in the sheets? You know the type. Salt n pepper beard, looks like he’s choppin’ wood all damn day. Sweat drippin’ down his chest onto his abs. Yeah, that’s what I look like and I wanna keep it that way.

Pulling up my collar against the chill, I head to my truck. I had only driven around the block when someone stepped out in front of me, no, fell out into the road. ‘Motherfucker!’ It was one of those moments when you say somethin’ without thinkin’. I jammed on the breaks. My hands were gripping the wheel, fuck I almost ran them over. Then she looked up, her hands flat on the hood. It was her, the woman from the apartment I wasn’t meant to be looking at. ‘You ok?’ ‘Asshole!’ Her blue eyes wide, she wasn’t looking at me though. ‘Excuse me?’ Yeah, I put on the innocent guy face sometimes. ‘He tried to rob me!’ I looked over my shoulder, I sure as shit didn’t see anyone else, but I almost didn’t see her either. ‘Who?’ She shook her head. ‘Sorry, he pushed me.’ Her lip trembled a little.

‘You’re ok now.’ I meant it. ‘You need to sit down?’ Sitting heavily onto the sidewalk, she put her head between her knees. ‘Listen, sweetheart, if you need me to go after someone, let me know what he looks like and I’ll beat his ass.’ ‘No,’ came her muffled response. ‘You wouldn’t believe me anyway.’ ‘Try me.’ I reached out a hand to help her up, I was actually surprised when she took it. Leaning against my truck, I realised how tall she was. An inch or two off six foot. A leggy redhead. I may have bit my lip when I looked her over. But now wasn’t the time, I’d nearly hit her with my vehicle. I shoulda been kissin’ her feet for not swatting me with her handbag and screaming bloody murder. ‘Nevermind, I’m ok. He didn’t take anything, he just ran past me and bumped into me.’ ‘As long as you’re good.’ After a beat, I played dumb. ‘You live around here? Can I call anyone to come get you?’ I felt the corner of my mouth lifting in a smile when she looked at me. Those big blue eyes were rimmed with tears and she looked fucking angelic. ‘You look like you need a stiff drink.’ Blinking the tears away, she regarded me for a minute then made her decision. ‘I live close enough. I’m fine.’ I nodded. ‘OK then, I feel awfully bad leaving you here though. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.’ I sat into the truck and pulled out my little book of fake I.D’s. I thumbed at the little plastic slips, she looks like she could use help. Maybe runnin’ from an ex? ‘Hey, uh, if you change your mind and need a stiff drink, give me a call.’ I extended my arm out the window, the business card between my fingers. She reached out to take it, reading it and snorting. ‘John Winchester... so are you a cop or something?’ Nervous shifting, oh yeah, I caught it, she was in trouble alright. ‘Not a cop, an investigator of a sort. I help people in trouble.’ ‘For real?’ ‘For real. And hey, if you decide you wanna find that S.O.B. that pushed you into the street, let me know.’ I winked, it was meant to be reassuring. Yeah baby I’ll take care of you in a fatherly way. The card disappeared into the pocket of her overcoat. ‘I’ll think about it. See you around.’ Swinging her bag over her shoulder, off she went, never looking back. *** Did my pretty neighbour realise she was living below some scumbag vamp wannabes? Most likely not. But now she was there, the job felt a little more personal. When they came back to the block, and they were comin’ back, I was gonna sit here and wait while the traps went off. I had a perfect view from the balcony. She went and fucked all of that up. I was meant to be watching for those fuckers and their crates of stolen blood bags but instead, I was watching her. Creepy as it may sound, it wasn’t actually like you think. I was sitting alone in the dark, making my way through another night with a bottle of my amber love and she was across the way, laying on her sofa, curled up watching tv. What was she thinkin? Why did I care what she was thinkin? If those blood bag stealin’ assholes saw she was living there, they’d have her. And I couldn’t let it happen. I checked the gun again, still there, ready to go when I asked. My finger was strokin’ the trigger real soft when I heard a van door close. I couldn’t see from here. The spartan apartment I was holed up in was at least blessed with windows facing the parking lot on the east side. Nothin’. Sound travels easier at night. I sat back down. She was sleeping. And as soon as the sun peeked over the horizon, I threw my gun down and lay face down on the bed and slept, I didn’t dream about her until the third night.

Her hands were under my shirt. Daylight was flooding in, blinding me. I had to lean back to get a look at her. Hair spread out across my pillow like a fuckin goddess. And she was moaning for me, pouting when I moved her hands away. I just wanted to look at her. ‘John’, she whispered, ‘take off your clothes, I wanna see if I was right.’ ‘Right about what?’ ‘You’re just covered in scars and tattoos, aren’t you?’ She bit her lip, ripping at my shirt. I had one of those stupid as shit thoughts that every man has while I pulled my shift off, ‘yeah I’m making all your dreams come true right now.’ I’m the man, baby. She was worshipping me with her mouth, pink lips sucking at my skin. A peek of a wet tongue before it disappeared and she was biting down on my nipples. Why on earth hadn’t I let a woman do this to me before? Why couldn’t I just let go and enjoy it? ‘John,’ she hummed against me. I dipped my fingers into her hair, shining like golden flames in the sunlight. Pulling her head back, I saw blood dribbling onto her chin. Fuck, I jumped back, feeling for the blade I keep on the bedside locker. ‘Evil bitch,’ I threw the blade into my right hand and swiped at her. She started climbing the walls, hissing down at me. My blood was dripping back down on me from the ceiling, she was moving slowly, looking at me. Reaching up, I grabbed her hair, tugging with all of my strength, she dropped back onto the bed with a screech. I woke up in a sweat. The screams were still bouncing around my head, I try to shake them off. Rubbing my tired eyes, I checked my watch, half hour after sundown, fuck. I bolted up out of bed on hearing a scream. Shit that was real. My heart was hammering in my chest, pushing the blind aside I saw her, there were two men grabbing at her, she was giving it everything tryin to get away from them. Sons of bitches, I gritted through my teeth, grabbing my gun. I made it to her door in time to see it open, her lifeless body slung over the shoulder of one of the ugliest motherfuckers I’ve ever seen.

***

Next Chapter.

#john winchester #john winchester fiction #spn #supernatural #supernatural fiction #winchester #jdm #john winchester x ofc #john winchester/ofc #jeffrey dean morgan

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dontdietwd · 5 years ago

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Don’t Die, day 0

The city bus that stopped on the corner of 3rd St and Davis Avenue was nearly empty. It broke the eerie silence of the street to drop off a lone person, who stood there, back to the door as it closed and the bus went on its way down the street. Hands on the pocket of her black hoodie, Sam looked to her left to see the bus rattle away, discreetly feeling for the sheathed blade she kept hidden on the waistband of her jeans. She kept it with her all times, a habit that made her feel safer, stronger. Starting to walk, she kept her head down but her eyes up, attention on its peak. Her steps were silent, her old, worn-out tennis shoes light on the hard asphalt, but her rapidly pounding heart sounded loud on her ears as a dog leaped up the fence she passed with a sudden, deep bark. She took an involuntary step to the side, hand flying to grip the knife handle on the sheath. It wasn’t safe to walk around there at night, she knew that by experience. Eyeing the dog for a moment, as it kept barking angrily, she forced herself to breathe in and out and adjusted the straps of her small backpack from where it rested over her blonde dreadlocks.

It was a simple seven-minute walk from that corner to her house, but it felt like an hour.

Turning on the corner of 7th St, Sam should have been relieved to be close to her house, but she wasn’t. Her heart thumped hard again as she took a couple of steps after the corner and voices reached her ears. Loud, menacing laughter travelling through the air from a house near the end of the street, about a hundred yards away. Not far enough. Sam had counted her steps over and over again, eyes always darting around.

She knew that street in its details. The houses there were not close together, big spaces and trees between them, no fences. The blue house on the left corner was the nicest one, with the nicest people, an elderly couple who always smiled at her when they met, even though they never spoke. She felt sorry for them, growing old in a neighborhood like this. To her right, a long line of trees with no houses, cricket singing in the warm night. The second house had a nice but now overgrown front yard, a big For Sale sign stuck on the grass for a long time now. The first two houses on the right side belonged to just one family; loud people who were always crossing the yard between them, fighting daily and yelling at each other, but tonight the voices she heard didn’t come from there, but from the next house on the left. Two-story, old yellowing white paint, chipping brown windows and railings. Four steps lead up to a small porch, and an old, decaying couch under the window, now littered by a small group of men under the dim light. It wasn’t a rare occurrence; they were there many nights a week. Sam looked around once again and over her shoulders, checking if she was really alone, and removed her right hand from her pocket, only to snake it around the knife handle once again. Reassured it was really still there, she let her slightly trembling hand move back into the pocket, lowered her head and hastened her steps, but didn’t run.

Empty beer cans and a strong smell of low-quality weed decorated the place. Tonight there were three men other than the two who lived there. A man she knew to have a weird nickname like Gecko or something was sitting on the top step, back to the railing, lighting up the joint with a lighter. There was another sitting on the couch, she couldn’t see him properly behind the railing and the overgrown bush that tried to decorate it, but she saw enough of him to know it was the weird guy who lived at the end of Anderson Street, three blocks away from here. He was named after a letter. She didn’t even try to remember which one now. There was another man sitting on the floor in front of the door, a can in hand, draining it. She heard him belch when he finished, and he laughed throwing it to the floor by his side. Elbows resting on the railing, looking out at the street, was the younger of the two brothers who lived there, cigarette in hand, his expression guarded, looking pissed off like he usually looked. Finally, on the arm of the couch, the older brother, graying shaved head, a smirk playing on his lips as his light blue eyes saw her approach.

A cold chill started on the bottom of her spine and traveled up to lodge on the nape of her neck. One by one the men saw her, and she knew what was about to happen. They never permitted her to go by them in peace. That had never happened and Sam was not optimistic enough to think tonight it would be different.

“There she is!”, Sam heard Merle coo aloud in his hoarse, drunkenly drawled voice. “Done a lotta studyn’ today? Did ya give it good to the teacher for em’ good grades?”, he yelled and laughed, the others echoing him, highly entertained. They followed his rude, inappropriate comments and gestures, things Sam tried to ignore and stop herself from being offended by, but as usual, she failed miserably. She wanted to disappear, or better yet, she wanted them to disappear. To close her eyes and to see them gone when she opened them, but no, she didn’t dare to close her eyes. She kept them open and attentive, looking at each of the five men once again.

Only one of them was quiet, not following the other’s lead, light blue eyes like his older brother’s fixed on her now, teeth biting on his lower lip’s skin. The younger brother was not much older than Sam herself. He was the only one whose voice she didn’t hear on those occasions. He never said anything and she had never seen him laughing at what the others say. But he was there, and he didn’t stop the others from humiliating her every other night, so to her, he just as much a threat as the others. Sam looked away, walking even faster, trying to dodge the impending situation, but it was too late. One of the men, the one who had been sitting on the couch, was already up and crossing the front yard over the poorly kept grass in quick steps. He stood in front of her, blocking her way. His name was D, she remembered now. Sam didn’t know what it stood for, she had never heard his real name, but she liked to imagine it was Dickhead.

It was his last name. First name was Dead.

He smiled down at her, the smell of beer on his breath, with barely any teeth left in his mouth at all, except a few stained, yellowed teeth. Blonde, oily hair falling over his forehead almost covering his blue, reddened eyes. He wore a ragged tank too short to cover his protruding belly.

“Where ya goin’ sweetheart?”, he said opening his arms to block her way.

She stopped, just like her breathing did for a second. “Get out of my way, D”, she growled between clenched teeth.

“C’mon, sugar, let’s go inside and have us some fun.” And with that, he grabbed her left arm just above the elbow, strongly, and turned towards the stairs, forcing her with him. Her hands fell from inside the hoodie pockets. The other men got up from their positions to watch as Sam struggled to make D let go of her arm, urging him to pull her harder. Among them, Sam saw Merle up and attentive, smugness gone from his eyes, something unreadable taking its place. The men’s voices filled her mind of any further thought, D’s fetid breath suffocating her.

“Let go!”, she hissed aloud, arm bouncing strongly back and forth trying to escape, but he was stronger, even in his inebriated state.

“Not gonna happen, sweetie”, he smirked as he pulled her strongly against his chest, one arm circling her lower back, pressing her hard against him. “Been patient enough for years just talkin’ and hearin’ ya always bitchin’.”

“I’m warning you, D, get your fuckin’ hands off of me!”

He laughed aloud, the sound making a cold chill travel up her spine again, forcefully pulling her to the middle of the Dixons’ front yard. “Well shit, would ya look at the dirty mouth on ya!”

“Son of a bitch!”, she barked as he spoke, her free arm thumping against his chest with a clenched fist.

“You gonna show me how dirty ya can be, princess”. With that, he put even more force to his grip and pulled her to him, his mouth crashing against hers, his tongue moving over her tightly closed lips, trying to force its way into her mouth. Her stomach churned, bile rising to her throat. Eyes wide open, Sam saw as her two neighbors moved from where they had been watching it all so far. Her heartbeat even faster, now almost painfully as they both walked down the steps heading in their direction. The pair stopped dead in their tracks a moment later, though, as D’s loud, hoarse scream filled the night around them and cut off the laughter coming from the porch. He pushed her away from him, a hand touching his lips, eyes wide in horror as he saw his own blood run down.

Sam’s trembling hand wiped the blood from her own lips and spat on the floor, features showing just how disgusted she felt now, her hand already reaching for the knife on her waistband sheath.

“Fuckin´ bitch!”, D yelled, all signs of laughter gone, blood dripping from his lower lip. “Gonna show ya not to disrespect a man!” Raising his hand, he slapped her across the face, strong enough to make her head swirl to the side. She caught herself before stumbling to the ground, and just as she regained balance, her hand came up so quickly the other men almost missed the movement altogether, but D saw it and froze in place, eyes glued to the girl in front of him.

Blood stained her lips, a mix of rage and disgust in her eyes, and now a knife pointing to his throat.

“I. Warned. You”, she whispered menacingly, pausing after each word.

“I know whatcha need, kitten”, D said in a low voice, the smile returning to his bit down, bloody lip, “ya need a man to calm yer nerves. Ya ain’t of ‘em lesbos, are ya?”

“If ya ever touch me again – fuck, ya ever even look at me again, I swear I’ll cut off your dick and shove it up your ass!”, she hissed venomously and pressed the knife further, D taking a tentative step back and the tip of the knife pressed into his skin. She raised her voice then, hating that it trembled a little, “Now get the fuck outta my face!”

“Alright, alright, sugar.” He laughed and raised his arms in mocking surrender, taking more steps backwards to the house. “Just kidding anyway, keep ya panties on”. He turned to his friends to see them laugh at his absurdly stupid joke. “Tough one, ain’t she?”, he smirked at the other men and looked at her again over his shoulders, a dangerous smirk and a threatening glint in his eyes. “Won’t mind taming it”.

Sam followed his movements with her knife, still pointing it to him, her hand trembling a little even as he stepped up to the porch. Only then she looked at the others. Merle hadn’t moved and he wasn’t laughing, his hand touching at the gun tucked under the back of his waistband. Sam became sure he’d shoot her on the spot if she went any further with D. The others laughed with him as he approached, clapping him on the back, complimenting him for his attack like he was their hero. Merle’s younger brother, Daryl, was standing by him, observing the scene, his eyes looking dangerously at D and then back at Sam. Her narrowed eyes met his for a moment as she started to back away, eyes darting over every man there as she increased the distance between them. She finally turned around and retreated in hasty steps towards her house, the too-small distance between them feeling much longer as she did, her ears still trained on their vicious voices.

Bounding up her own front steps, Sam risked one last gaze at the neighbors’ house and caught Daryl watching her unlock the door, desperate for the psychological safety being inside would bring her. Once inside her house, she locked the door, knife still in hand, knuckles white from gripping it so hard. She faced the door for a long moment, half expecting it to be forced open at any second now. As long moments passed and nothing happened, Sam felt her legs threaten to give away and lowered herself to the floor, pulling her knees tight onto her chest.

She was sure the men didn’t hear the rage that came out of her in a low, throaty scream.

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