#nothing is stopping this man from picking up a pan and frying his own damn dinner or whatever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pinkmirth · 4 years ago

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—𝐌𝗼𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝗼𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 [𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞]

《𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝗼𝗺𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 + 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝》

Boxes splayed across the bare, sheen hardwood of your newly owned apartment, some contents of them being haphazardly tossed out onto the floor, courtesy of Katsuki. Speaking of, the eager ash blonde had been taking this whole unpacking thing with a ravaging approach, a little more aggression than enthusiasm being displayed. This disregarding husband of yours had already broken two vases since the moving van hauled in your belongings..

You caught wind of his incoherent murmurs throughout the day, which were practically countless by now. You’d been racking your brain since, attempting to discover what had gotten your poor Katsuki so upset. Despite the marriage that bonded you and him, Katsuki’s profession usually got in the way of many personal things. For a while, it’d been a danger just for the pair of you to live together, so you haven’t been. Until now. It had been three days since you and him moved from the comfort of your hometown, Musutafu, to the renowned capital, Tokyo, and you wished you could say it had been smooth sailing. Unfortunately, a certain Bakugou wasn’t having the best time, always sputtering a profanity or a groan left and right. His case of the grumps was probably a trip of his complex emotions, either caused by a sense of neediness, deprivation of some sort, or bottled rage. You were betting, practically hoping on the first two instead. Knowing your husband, it meant well that he’d get his hands on miscellaneous household items to crush, smash and break, as some way of channeling his anger episodes. Three days down the line, and you already needed to replace a handful.. Though, it was currently dinner time, and you were sure that was a good thing. Katsuki’s little funk would wash away come 6pm. Cooking had a way of melting away the male’s heaps of stress, especially when you offered to join in. Throughout that hour of making food and serving you his prideful dishes, he always carried a subtle smile. Dinner wasn’t something to worry about. “Fuckin’ hell!” Scratch that. Telling by the pestering clatter of the cabinets he was yanking open, to the dastardly echo of his stomps, it seemed that you couldn’t rely on the succor of food for any longer. “I oughta’ set this lousy kitchen on fucking fire!” You let out a hefty sigh, picking yourself up from the spacious beanbag, since you were yet to assemble any couches, before strolling over to the kitchen, awaiting to see the reason behind your husband’s exaggerated shrieking. “Katsu-Chan, what's the issue..?” Your husband immediately bombarded you with a growled rant, “I can’t find my shitty apron!” You eyed Katsuki through furrowed brows. Is all this attitude really about one measly apron? Nah, I doubt it, your inner voice chimed. “And there ain’t any more pepper seasoning, so I haven’t got a clue what I’ll cook now..” he spewed through gritted teeth, recklessly tossing away the poor frying pan that he’d been holding onto all the while, impressive dents imprinted onto the handle, curved into the shape of his fingers. In that case, you had one more household item to replace. Noted.. “I can’t find that damned thing,” he spoke with an exasperated huff, his hands flying up to the cupboards, motioning them open and closed with the slightest violent tendency. “Hate to break it to you, sweet cheeks, but we ain’t eating dinner tonight,” you scoffed over Katsuki’s recurring dramatics, “These past few days have been shitty anyway..” He’d said it throughout a lowly mutter, but it was enough to cause a nervous stream to rush through you. Did he not like it here? Perhaps the city was too busy for Dynamight, maybe he wasn’t immune to getting homesickness as he liked to brag about, or it couldve been that he just wasn’t ready to get used to such a foreign occurrence in your relationship— living together. But, of course, considering your nature to bat things off with a joke of some sort, you contorted your worries into a comical stick to jab at your husband with.

“Darling, if you’re on your man-period, you should’ve just said so..” you’d said it with fabricated pity, all the while holding back your chuckles as his brows began to furrow, upper lip curving vexingly.

“You think you’re so damn funny, dontcha’, woman..?”

“Yeah, just a little bit.”

Another rasped groan left the lips of the ever-impatient Bakugou Katsuki, “Oi. Are ya’ just gonna keep giggling on about my little anger episode forever?”

Hm. For once, he actually acknowledged it for what it is, you thought briefly, before making your way around the glossy, marble-design kitchen island, your hands finding solace on his defined, muscular triceps.

The thick straps of his black, square neck tank top gradually began to slide past his shoulders, shadowing over his collarbone before you inched it back up.

“Do you.. like it here, Katsuki?” By the moment he answered your answer with an aggressive snort, you realized you had nothing to worry about.

“Why the hell wouldn't I? We didn’t pay for this house just to hate the place,” he scoffed, his large palms skimming over the small of your back before thick fingers of his wrapped around your waist.

“That’s a relief, but you’ve been acting a little grumpy— Like something’s bothering you. Could you just tell me how you’re feeling?” You finally admitted your questioning thoughts with an expectant look, watching Katsuki return your curiosity with a subtle smirk. “You wanna know what’s bothering me..?”

“Y’know what, never mind. Don’t wanna hear it, Katsu-Chan.”

Your abrupt response had him knitting his brows and emitting confused huffs. “So you’re just gonna change your mind on me like that?!” You jabbed at his chest with your pointer finger to punctuate your reply, “because you made it sound creepy, that’s why!”

Katsuki then tightened his grip around your waist, earning a breathy gasp out of you. Before you could question the blonde, he already had you hauled up into the kitchen island, standing between your dangling legs with the tip of his nose grazing yours. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh at the comforting warmth of his sizey hands, your arms instinctively flinging around the back of his neck.

“Alright, I’ll tell you the truth, hon,” confessed Katsuki, “The move has been great, but horrible. It all went good, I guess. No missing items, moving trucks arriving in record time, everything we wanted. But there’s one more thing that we wanted that you seemed to forget about, you lil’ idiot..”

Despite the use of an insult, his cheeks and ears began the bloom a subtle but pretty pink, his sharp red eyes averting from your own blinking ones.

“Care to inform me on whatever I forgot..?” You skimmed through my your memory frantically in those few seconds that he’d paused, trying to dig up a pleasing answer before he told you himself.

“Privacy, [Y/N].. We’d have so much, too much once we moved to our own place. And we loved the sound of that. Y‘know why, right..?”

Your heart suddenly leapt within your chest at his indication, his left brow rising suggestively as he briefly cocked his head. You definitely knew why.

“So we could have times like this. Without any damned interruptions. I can suck your face off without one of my shitty friends popping up unexpectedly, ain’t that swell?” His voice held the slightest bit of laughter in it, his tone comical and yearning.

“So.. if I said that I wanna feel you close to me..” you murmured, your breath fanning over his proximate lips, “Like, really really close, it wouldn’t be a problem, yes?” A teasing, lingering peck was what you placed across his cheek, earning a genuine grin from Katsuki as a response.

“Who the hell’s gonna stop you? In fact, I’ve got my own idea,” his lowly voice came out booming nonetheless, but of course, the benefit of privacy made sure that his volume wasn’t a problem.

“I wanna watch you. While you watch me.” He didn’t have to be lewdly exact with his words, the lust-blown gaze in your husband’s vermillion eyes was enough to tell what he wanted. It was simple enough as he’d said; Mutual masturbation, just a few minutes before dinner time would commence.

Albeit the serene atmosphere, you couldn’t hold back your snicker over your realization. Bakugou Katsuki, your impatient lover. The poor guy had been in such a distasteful mood, only because of his unnerving libido..

“You wanna watch me take off my panties, huh?” Your teasing statement came out as a suggestive giggle, your hand placed sturdily at the nape of his neck while the unoccupied one got to work on making his fantasies a reality, tugging at the hem of your leggings hastily.

“You’ve gotta watch me too, y’know,” Katsuki reminded you with a gravelly chuckle, shimmying and pulling his bottoms off as though there were no time to spare.

His half naked form had attracted you in an instant, eyes drawing to his thick cock, semi-hard and already being encased into his moving palm.

“Don't just stare. It works both ways, sweet cheeks. I wanna see some fingers moving’ already,” Puffs of breath were taken between his words, ruby red eyes already lidded with an agape mouth that poured out the most arousing groans.

“Nah, I think I’ll just enjoy the show for now,” you decided matter-of-factly, pressing a sloppy kiss along his defined jawline, causing him to emit another grunt, lowly slapping sounds being heard from his vulgar ministrations.

“You think you’re cute, huh..” hissed Bakugou, trudging his clothes back on with a grunt, to your dismay. “Forget it. Instead of putting on a show for a brat like you, I’m gonna go straight to dinner.”

You accepted the fate that your actions resulted in, ready to slide off the island, just before his stern hands stopped you. He gave you this glance, one that made you eye him in suspicion as he kept his hands on each of your thighs, spreading them apart with a lax grin.

“Katsu— Ah!” By now, the blonde had already dropped to his knees, now face level with your clothed heat. “W-what about dinner..?!”

“Whaddya’ mean?” His tone came out rasped and attractive, a growing smirk reaching his lips as his fingers prodded at the band of your bottoms, “This is my dinner, babe..”

#bnha thirst #mha thirst #bakugou imagines #bnha Imagines #Katsuki Bakugou imagines #Bakugou x reader #Bakugou x female reader #bnha insert #mha insert #Bakugou smut #bnha smut #harmoni writes

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

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Title: Partners {7}*

OA Zidan/Zeeko Zaki x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Angst, Drama, Action, Multiple POV changes, Talk and Mild depiction of Sex Trafficking, Racism Implied, Possibly Triggering Content, Character Drugging, Violence, Groping, Implied Blood, Plot, Mild NSFW, PLENTY OF WORDS

Words: 9k

Summary: You’re a damn good FBI agent in your own right. It is definitely partly to do with how well you’ve been trained and partly to do with you not letting anything or anyone distract you. You have a six-year plan that you’re fast-tracking for four. After being transferred from your office in Tampa, you’ve been sent to New York, which you’ve labeled the “big leagues.” Your first day there, after being introduced to your new partner OA Zidan you realized you’ve moved out of the frying pan right into the pot of distraction. A year later and your growing attraction for your partner still hasn’t been snuffed out.

Note: This is a first for me writing about a TV show and interjecting into it. Let’s see how this goes. I hope you guys enjoy this. As always, thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed this please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

~~~~~~~~~~~

The slinkiness of the dress was not missed by you. Your fingers noticed it once you pulled it from the shopping bag. It was a pretty dress. You checked yourself in the mirror of the bathroom again, turning in every direction so you could see how you looked in a dress you probably would have chosen for yourself in Miami. The black sequins looked good against your skin, and the accent gold chains around your neck that draped down your body between your breasts made them look even more inviting than usual. You wondered who’d picked this dress. While you looked good, if you had to run, it would probably be a matter of time before you had a nip slip or a full-on boob pop out.

You took a deep breath, released it, and leaned closer to the mirror to peer deeper into your eyes. Your nerves were beginning to get the better of you.

“You can do this, Y/N. You’ve done this before. It’s not a big deal. You know the drill. You. Got. This!”

Taking a final breath, you stepped back, rearranged the neck of the dress, checked your make up then nodded to yourself, pleased at the final product. As you walked out of the bathroom and down the hall of the JOC, you tried to mentally psych yourself up. It had been a year since you’d done any undercover work and the nerves never really went away. Once you stepped into the common area where all your coworkers centered, one by one, the eyes drifted to you.

From the right, you heard a whistle. When you turned, it was Scola.

“Agent Y/L/N.”

You rolled your eyes then scoffed.

“Watch it, Scola.”

He lifted his hands in defeat as you walked up to Jubal, Kristen, OA, and Isobel. OA’s eyes slowly raked along your body, taking in every detail.

“This is as good as it’s gonna get,” you joked.

“You look incredible,” Isobel complimented.

“Eh, it’s just a dress. By the way, who picked this out?”

“That would be Kristen’s handiwork,” Jubal said with a smile as he bumped his shoulder into Kristen’s. You picked up on the way she smiled back at him before she focused on you.

“I see I picked right. I knew you had what was needed to carry it.”

“All right, all right,” you pushed out, trying to change the subject. “Are we ready to move?”

“Yes. We’re meeting our informant at a pickup spot near the heights. Let’s move people,” Jubal drilled.

Everyone went into motion, preparing to leave. The elevator ride was chatter filled as Jubal, Kristen, and Isobel listed things off from the file you had to remember. While your brain was functioning and focused on them, your body was also functioning and focused on OA, who was beside you with his hands clutched one over the other in front of him while he stared at the dial. Though he wasn’t looking at you, your body could feel the energy coming off of his body, and it was responding.

Once you piled into the van, you situated as Lim began explaining the intricacies of the few gadgets you wore, including mics in your diamond earrings, surveillance cameras embedded into the golden chains of the dress, and two chip trackers inside the ring, and an emergency explosive. You were impressed, and you let him know it. Lim was adorable. He always looked surprised to hear a compliment on how well he did his job or that someone noticed. You always made it a point to tell Lim how good of a job he was doing. You believed it was necessary to praise people when they deserved it, especially if you saw it.

You tried to retain the information you read in the files, along with the faces you saw. You knew the key to undercover work was memorizing as much as you could. Your success in Miami was because you were good with retaining information, thinking quickly on your feet, and solving things with small details that others would not have thought of. Your nerves were beginning to pick up, and you knew it was because while you’d been in a similar undercover situation before, this was a different monster. Whereas the sex club was a dangerous environment, it was a closed environment. With this operation, many variables would be left up to chance, and that were ever-changing. That meant more risk.

You tried not to look at OA. You didn’t want to give him any indication that you knew he was right and that this was too dangerous. Your father’s words echoed in your head.

“In this world, because of the color of your skin and your sex, you have to be twice as good and work twice as hard to get to where others would easily get to. You have to never show weakness. They will look for it because you’re a woman.”

Clenching your jaw, you straightened your posture and did your best to clear your mind. This assignment wouldn’t break you, thought to yourself over and over.

Fifteen minutes later, the van pulled up at the meet location that Jubal’s informant would come to get you to add to the shipment of women. After Lim checked that you were good with how the gadgets worked and were comfortable operating them, he gave you a comforting pat on the shoulder, a gentle squeeze, and a soft smile that spoke of his confidence in you. As he made a move to get out of the van, he stopped and came back to you.

“Can I say something I’ve always wanted to tell you?”

You nodded.

“Since you came to join us here, I’ve admired you. I think you’re smart, smarter than a lot of people I’ve worked with. You’ve impressed me more times than I can count, and I’m not in the least worried about you knocking this out of the park. Remember how badass you are.” He added a wink that made you smile.

“Thank you, Ian.”

“Anytime, Y/N. You’re—you’re great—you’ll be great.”

With that, he walked out and closed the doors behind him, leaving you and OA. You couldn’t help but smile. He was sweet.

“I think Ian’s got a crush,” OA uttered slightly under his breath.

“Oh, stop it.”

He approached you with his arms held out to you. Once he was close enough, his hands latched onto your waist.

“Should I be worried?”

You snorted then rose to meet his eyes. “You tell me. Should you?”

OA studied you for a few moments before he answered.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should.”

The warmth from his hands was working to calm some of your nerves. You sighed out, placed your hands on his forearms, and then traced patterns into his exposed skin.

“Don’t be jealous.”

“Ya know something; I didn’t think I was a jealous man—before now,” he replied.

You stared at each other, neither of you speaking. After several long moments, you looked down. OA tipped your chin up, so you looked at him.

“I feel I have to say something right now,” OA began.

You quirked your eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“You look—incredibly gorgeous.”

Slowly your lips spread into a wide smile that got wider and wider.

“I can’t believe the first time I see you like this is for a sting operation rather than our first date.”

The butterflies began fluttering in your gut, making your knees go weak. You slouched back on the cold table that lined the side of the van. OA’s hands slid down to your hips and squeezed. The action did nothing for the fluttering in your belly, but it helped to stabilize you.

“Well—maybe you’ll actually get that first date if you get the balls to finally ask for it,” you teased.

OA’s smile began small until you were staring at his perfect teeth. With no hesitation, he lowered his lips to yours for a sweet kiss that he took control of. His lips trailed down your jaw and back to your ear where be nibbled and licked along its shell. With every lick, the butterflies in your gut fluttered more rapidly, and with every nibble, your sex throbbed. You couldn’t believe you were getting turned on at a time like this.

“Are you okay?”

His whisper against your ear made you sigh. It was the question you were dreading. Mustering as much gusto as you could, you put on a tough exterior.

“I’m fine. As I said, it’s no big deal and nothing I haven’t done before.”

The more you spoke, the less you believed your own words. When you looked at OA, he didn’t even look to believe your words.

“You don’t have to play tough with me. I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying and when something isn’t as it seems.”

OA moved his hands from their place on your hips to buckle behind you at the small of your back. His long fingers splayed across your bare skin, making any cold shell you were trying to wear melt away. You sighed again.

“Okay, I am nervous, but it’s jitters. Everyone gets em’.”

OA kissed your forehead and kept his lips there for a few seconds. “I know you can do this. It’s never been a question of if you could. It was always, should you? I know you’ve got this because you are the most incredible agent that I’ve known in a long time. You’re smart, quick on your feet, charismatic, and don’t even get me started on what an amazing profiler you are. Plus, your right hook and roundhouse is a thing of beauty.”

You giggled, then lowered your head to his collar. Even in heels, he was still slightly taller than you. His chuckle vibrated against your forehead, and the tension in the van automatically decreased. When your laughs subsided, you bit your bottom lip and thought about your next words carefully.

“If this goes south,” you began before OA pulled you back so he could look at you.

“It won’t.”

“If it does,” you tried again.

OA cupped your jaw and slid his thumb along your lips until it was in the center, silencing you.

“It won’t. You got this, and I have your back. We all do.”

For some reason, that touched you more now than it ever had before. He always had your back, and so did the team. That was what a team was. You tried to keep your emotions in check, but the longer you saw the compassion in his eyes that felt more and more like something more intimate than compassion, the more your emotions went haywire. You crushed your body to his for a hug. Resting your cheek against his chest, you listened to the drum of his heart, hoping it would soothe you as it had less than twenty-four hours ago.

“Let me get this out, Omar,” you whispered, feeling your heart race.

“If things go south, I want you to know I have loved every single minute that I’ve been your partner. Thank you for making me a better agent, and thank you for helping me see sometimes following your heart can lead to great things,” you said, somehow able the keep your voice from shaking.

Before you could slow your racing heart, OA pulled you back again and crashed his lips to yours, making it race even more. You happen to open your eyes at the same moment he did, and while your lips danced together, your eyes spoke words that had been left unspoken in your heart.

It took just seconds for OA’s hands to drop to your hips again and yours to begin to quickly fight with the belt he wore. As OA squeezed your hips and moaned against your lips, you managed to free him of his belt and undo the buttons of his pants. When OA’s hands slipped to your backside, he gripped it with such a roughness you knew his need and how closely it mirrored yours. His hands quickly pulled at the fabric of the dress, inching it up over your hips to reveal your thonged ass to the cold surface of the table.

Finally free of his pants, he turned you, so you now faced the wall of the van. You bent forward, bracing your hands on the table as OA freed his member. When you felt him rub himself against your slit, you shuddered and anxiously anticipated the feel of his intrusion. As he slowly slid into you, connecting your bodies inch by inch, one hand gripped your hip, and the other covered your mouth in time to muffle the deep moan you let out.

OA sucked in a shuddered breath, then groaned. Once he was buried to the hilt, he circled his hips, making goosebumps erupt all over your skin. OA lowered his lips to your shoulder, bit down on your flesh then began thrusting in and out of you. While his movements were slow, the force with which he rocked into you was intense. Within seconds he’d sped his movements and the force that he flicked his hips. With every move forward, it was powerful enough to have your entire body jerk from it. In no time, you’d begun rocking along with him. When he retreaded, you did too, only to slam back onto him, taking all of him.

You could tell your movements were driving OA crazy because of the tightness of his grip on your body. He hovered over your back and went to your ear.

“Habibi,” he whispered. “Aikhtar,” he groaned. “Eshq,” he panted.

It took those three words to bring you to the horizon of your orgasm, and he must have known it because he sped up, slamming into you, filling you completely. It only took a few thrust and the cup of his large hand against your sex for you to whimper. As his fingers strummed your pearl, heightening your arousal making you more desperate for your release. It wasn’t long before OA was marking you as his from the inside out.

Slowly both of you came down from your euphoric cloud. Your breathing evened out, the tremble of your body slowed, but your heart still pounded, and you knew it was just for him. Within a few minutes, OA had you dressed and presentable again, and when he was the self-controlled and professional Agent Zidan again, he pulled you against him.

“I’m going to do everything and anything needed to make sure we get to have that date,” he said while gazing into your eyes with such intensity you knew he meant the words he spoke. “Anything,” he repeated for emphasis.

Before you could speak, there was a knock on the van, signaling that the informant had arrived and it was showtime. OA pressed his forehead to yours for a few seconds, then kissed your nose before he backed off. You turned to the table, looking into the purse you had, and reapplied your lipstick. When you were sure you were good, you and OA hopped out of the van to join the team with them none the wiser.

“I really wish we could put a wire on you, but I think you know what we can’t,” Isobel said.

“I get it. I’ll probably go through a strip-search,” you filled in. Once you said it, you heard OA grumble.

“We have the jewelry surveillance, so you’re not alone in there. We can’t talk to you, but we can hear and see what you do,” Jubal assured.

You nodded as you went over the file one last time. Over your quiet surroundings, you all heard the signal. You gave them a nod being careful not to look at OA before you walked away from them. You didn’t think you could handle that. After taking a few steps, though, you looked back at him. He stood there with his arms crossed across his broad chest with the deepest scowl on his face that accompanied his tightly clenched jaw. Deciding to test the tech, you said the one thing you knew you could that only he would get.

“My back, your back, we got that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

-OA-

He hated this more than he hated the stares he got his first few weeks at Quantico. Those weeks were a different hell. It was a hell that tested everything he knew about himself and how who he was would connect to his work—if it could connect. Because of his culture and heritage, he got a lot of flack. He’d had to work twice as hard to prove himself even though he’d done two tours in Iraq and had earned his dues and proven himself as an asset. This hell, though, it gripped his heart tighter than anything else. He wondered if it was because what he had to lose was just way in life. If he failed, he would have to live with the shame. Now, if this failed, he’d have to live with much more. Regret. Heartbreak. They were two things he didn’t want any part of. It was your fault.

He’d fallen in love with his partner. It was the first rule in the book. The first rule that was drilled in his head in every line he went into. In the Rangers, it was don’t get involved with your peers or form any personal or intimate connections with informants or those in the field. In the DEA, it was, go by the book and don’t get involved with anyone on any level. He’d learned how challenging and intricate undercover work was there. Here he was after all these years and all his life experiences throwing the book away, setting ablaze first, though.

He listened to the informant drill you on everything you needed to know as he walked you to the truck you’d be in. In the back of the van with Isobel, Kristen, Jubal, and the rest of the team, he felt like he was sitting on pins and needles, but he couldn’t show any of it. He knew if he showed too much concern, it would raise curiosity about your relationship's true nature. He had to remain calm and neutral enough for a partner and not venture into the realm of the concerned lover.

You were so good that as the truck drove with you in the back, you sang a song in French. It wasn’t just any song, though. You fed them intel of everything that was around you, how many other girls were in the back, their descriptions, scents, and any other piece of information that would help with the case. Everyone around him looked pleased, and he knew Isobel was relieved. You were showing in less than an hour why you were the right person for the job.

“She’s got this,” Jubal said aloud while nodding his head and snapping the rubber band against his wrist, a nervous tick he’d noticed when Kristen was injured in the hospital.

At the thought of Kirsten, he looked across to her. she was sitting with Ian, and the two were talking closely, most likely about the case, but it made him look back to Jubal for his reaction. The look on Jubal’s face didn’t give much away, but being a good profiler, he picked up on a few things. Jubal didn’t look to like how close they were. He wondered then if you and he weren’t the only ones who were fraternizing.

The puzzle gave him something to occupy his mind instead of him worrying and thinking of worst case scenarios, and he was glad for it. After almost forty minutes, your reporting notified that the truck had stopped and everyone was being led out.

“Here we go, people,” Isobel notified.

The tension in the van returned tenfold as everyone’s attention went to the screens. He tagged the route the truck had taken thanks to the tracking devices you wore and calculated the quickest route to you in case things went south. He watched the feed you expertly gave. You made sure to turn in every possible direction so you could give them a quick lay of the land. Every angle Ian and Kirsten tagged, they let out an audible “yes.” You were making everyone’s job easier.

You were led into a large house. The interior was decorated richly. The techs worked to make connections with everything in the feed, artwork, photos, and even furniture. Any of it could lead to a break. You stopped for a second, then bent forward, bringing a clear photo of four men into the frame.

“Get that picture scrubbed. I want to know everything about all of them, even their childhood pet’s name. Come on, people. Let’s get Y/N out of there in under twenty-four hours,” Jubal drilled.

The van came alive with chatter and activity, and he focused more intently on the feed. With his fingers steepled underneath his bearded chin, he tried to stay present.

“File in here, ladies. You know the drill. Inspection.”

He clenched his jaw, hating what that sounded like. He continued watching the feed. He took in the details of the room and guessed they were holding the women in a basement. The women around the room were all dressed in their best. He’d clocked bruises on some and small injuries on others. Having worked an undercover case like this one, he knew the ones with small injuries were probably the older ones that had been acquired over a year ago while the ones with bruises were newer. In situations like these, the older ones, because of their wear and tear, were abused more. They were usually kept on reserve for those with particular tastes. They were deemed the expendable ones.

When the men approached you, they brought you into another room where two men were waiting. Once they laid eyes on you, they whistled and made catcalls at you.

“Wow. We have an exotic one.”

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Dulce,” you replied.

“Ah, you were brought in with Snake, part of the special shipment from Florida. He said very good things about the women in that shipment.”

The man approached you and slowly walked around you before he stopped in front again.

“Where you from, honey?”

“I can be from anywhere you like.”

“she’s good,” Isobel voiced. “She knows giving men like that control means appeasement.”

“So you’re a people pleaser, huh.”

“Absolutely sugar. I please people,” you replied.

The men laughed together before exchanging glances.

“Well, Dulce, we gotta search you, so be a good girl as I—sample the goods.”

He watched the man approach you. He didn’t know if he could stomach watching, but he didn’t look away.

“Ah, very nice.” He sounded like the sleaziest of perverts, and his anger flared.

The air in the vibe went from tense to uncomfortable. They all knew what was happening. He was glad he couldn’t see your face. As soon as he thought it, you were moved, and you now stood in front of a mirror, and your reflection was now what he saw. The man in a burgundy button-down and black slacks was before you—on you. He walked behind you then brought his hands around to cup your breasts.

“Son of a--.”

Clenching his jaw, he continued watching. The sleazeball's hands slid down your abdomen.

“Everyone look away,” Isobel ordered.

He did not. When he saw the asshole’s hand creep to your crotch, he was ready to end this whole thing. The look on your face was a detached one. You didn’t look as if it phased you.

“Hey! What’re you doing? She’s for the boss. No one is to touch her.”

The informant came into the frame just in time before the perv groped you any further.

“I’m sure Boss would want us to make sure she’s clean.”

“You’re just trying to get your rocks off. You know how he feels about the first touch. Should I tell him that you dirtied his entertainment for the night?”

The two men faced off, but the informant didn’t back down.

“You’re lucky you’re so high up, Snake.”

“Shut the fuck up. Know your place. You, out.”

You walked to the door with Snake behind you. While everyone else in the room released a relieved sigh, he didn’t. This was but a tiny victory. There would be many more tests and close calls before the night was done.

“I’ll get you to the bathroom upstairs. It is next door to the office. You have three minutes. Use them wisely. I’ll be back to bring you to them.”

A little while later, you walked into the bathroom and released a breath. He could tell you forgot about the camera on you as you allowed your nerves to show—just a little. He wished he could be there to help in any way you’d let him, but he wasn’t. He even wished you could hear him. After a fifteen or twenty second reprieve, you were sneaking out the bathroom door to the office next door. Once inside, you began rummaging through cabinets, drawers, folders, and even the trash, giving them a glance at anything you came across. You moved so quickly that each analyst worked on each piece of data your lens came across.

“I think I found something,” you said, opening a folder with the letters “NDB” tapped across its cover. You flipped through the pages giving them two or three seconds each page to capture it in a screenshot.

“Yes, Y/N, that’s it,” Jubal cheered on.

“That has to be a record with getting in,” Isobel said more to herself than anyone else.

“It looks like these are future plans. I have names, dates, locations, pictures even.”

“That’s all we need, right,” Kristen inquired.

“I mean,” Jubal began.

“No. while this is good, we need a clear shot of them all in the room and to hear talk about any attack as well as get them in some sort of incriminating situation. With that, we got 'em dead to rights,” Isobel clarified.

“Fuck!”

It was an outburst he hadn’t expected. He’d been trying to hold it together, but the thought of you being there any longer really was not sitting right with him. the eyes in the van trailed to him. No doubt they were shocked to see him lose his cool. No one said anything about it, though. He watched as you snuck out of the office after putting everything back to make it in the bathroom. Once the bathroom door clicked shut, Snake was there to retrieve you.

“Change of plans. You girls are meant to be eye candy. Sort of like a look but don’t touch event. He likes to use this as his foreplay. Keep a cool head, and remember you’re not trying this on for the day. You live this. Act accordingly.”

~~~~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

Snake led you into another part of the house that was filled with girls and about ten men that were being entertained by the chosen girls. You looked around, clocking your exits and the possible escape routes first, then took inventory of the girls and finally the men. Snake left your side but not before giving you a stern look as if to remind you that your life was not the only one at stake here. You didn’t need a reminder.

Your encounter in the room was a quick reintroduction that woke your ass up to the real dangers that you’d now found yourself in. Back in Miami, you’d found yourself in a similar situation, and the only way you were able to get through it was to detach from it. You mentally put yourself in the frame of mind of a different person and became them. It made it easier. You knew it was what you would have to do now.

“Dulce, Dulce, Dulce, Dulce,” you whispered to yourself before you took a deep breath and slowly released it. When you did, you decided to fake it until you had it. Your first move was to take a lap around the room. You still had to locate the SVU agent on no intel. The department was reluctant to share any information for fear of a leak because of the case's sensitive nature and how long their agent had been undercover. So you were running on nothing but the assurance that if possible, they would make contact.

One lap turned to two, but before you could do a third, one of the men approached you, cornering you.

“Why hello. I haven’t seen you before.”

You pasted on a sugary sweet smile and leaned against the wall. “Oh, no? I’m new.”

The man smiled, giving you a chill.

“I like new. I like to break in the new thoroughbreds.”

He grabbed your wrist and began dragging you through the room. His grip was tight, but you didn’t make a sound. You could see he was dragging you toward a couch. From the corner of your eye, you saw one of the girls watching you. Her long brunette hair framed her face, and her plum-colored lipstick gave her a youthful glow. Before you could take in any more details, the man dropped onto the couch and released your wrist.

“Dance.”

You hesitated, caught off guard by his actions and the command.

“All right, darlin, no need to get rough.”

You swayed from side to side in front of him in slow movements using the time to formulate a plan. Slowly you turned your back to him as you began winding your waist. It was then you noticed a dangerous looking man across the room also watching your every move. Snake approached him, whispered, and nodded in your direction. Bingo, you thought. Adding to the show you were putting on, you trailed your hands along your body and beginning at the outer parts of your thighs, up along your hips. When you reached your stomach, you brought them up to cup your breasts, all the while staring at the man across the room. Turning from him and back to the younger gentleman on the couch, you smiled, bit your bottom lip, and winked.

“You’re a naughty girl, aren’t you?”

You nodded.

“Do you know what naughty girls get?”

You shook your head.

“This.”

The man gripped his appendage and shook it for emphasis.

“Come get this cock, slut.”

As he lunged for you, you saw Snake approach. He whispered to the man before he made contact, and the look on his face went from lust riddled to fearful. He straightened his clothes, then walked away.

“he says get a glass of champagne and sit.”

You took the glass of champagne that Snake offered you and sat on the now empty couch. You knew that you had him on the hook. You’d expected it to be more work than that. For the next few hours, on the couch was where you remained. You watched every immoral thing the men did to the women and sat through it all. The first hour was difficult because every injustice you saw you wanted to remedy, but by hour two and three, you’d found a way to tune it out.

A few hours later, you were brought over to the boss. You recognized him from the pictures in the files. His eyes roamed your body, taking in every detail. It was a full two minutes before he spoke.

“You name.”

“Dulce.”

He chuckled. “Ha, the Spanish word for sweet. Are you sweet?”

“That’s for you to find out, I guess.”

No words followed. The way he looked at you made your skin crawl. It was the look of a true psychopath. He was the worst kind, though, a hypocritical one, one that sought to subjugate that which he hated. He preached up and down how whites were the superior race, and any others were inferior and seen as dirty, but here he was eying you like he planned to give you a thorough cavity search knowing damn well your skin was not white.

You took in the details and learned his ticks. From the way his jaw flinched every few minutes to the way he held on to the arm of the chair, you knew he was trying to hold tightly to something inside of him. Men like this often had a secret side to them.

“Sit.”

Doing as you were told, you sat. He continued his conversation. Again the girl with brunette hair caught your eye. She was watching every move you made, and that fact alone told you she was the SVU agent. It was a hunch, an unproven one. The mention of an attack had your attention going back to the man seated beside you. His hand came out to clasp your upper thigh. His fingers between your crossed legs holding on as if he owned you. Men like him always thought people were property to own, use, then trade.

“Just make sure everything goes off without a hitch. We’ve worked too long for his, and too many lives have been lost for it all to be for naught.”

“Don’t worry. As we speak here, they are setting up the event location. By this time tomorrow, we’ll have our victory. That is why we’re here tonight—to celebrate.”

You hoped those in the van got that.

“Maybe it’s time to take your turn,” one of the men suggested.

The Boss’s eyes landed on you before he brought them to his hand on your thigh. “Soon. You go sit there,” he ordered.

You stood and walked over to the brunette who’d been watching you for the last few hours and sat beside her. You didn’t want to give yourself away, so you said nothing. In undercover work, you never knew who had flipped. Pretending to be someone else twenty-four-seven took its toll, and many blurred the lines forgetting who they really were. You didn’t know if she was one of them. If she were, she’d give you up in a heartbeat.

Instead of giving yourself up, you decided to play it cool and observe. One way or another, she would show who she really was. The scene before you quickly got old. No one touched you or the Burnett you sat beside. It was like they all knew their place and didn’t even dare question it. They didn’t touch you, but they sure watched. You’d caught so many of them eye-fucking you it was seriously making you sick. For a second, your mind ran on OA and if he’d seen the scene in the backroom. As quickly as your mind dashed to him, you forced it away. Clear head, you reminded yourself. The easiest way to end up dead was to lose focus.

A middle-aged man in grey suit pants and a matching grey button-down that was unbuttoned one too many buttons stopped in front of the two of you. He smiled and eyeballed the brunette first, then you.

She kissed her teeth and rolled her eyes. “Keep walking, Pete. Even you’re not dumb enough to touch one of Lowball’s treats. You know he likes them clean, and you also know what he’ll do to ya if he sees one print.”

This so-called Pete rolled his eyes, sighed, then walked away mumbling something underneath his breath.

“Loser,” she finished.

That was when your eyes met.

“You’re new.”

“What of it?”

She smiled, then continued chewing her gum.

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Dulce.”

“Ah, I like sweet things.”

She trailed her pointer up over your exposed knee until it made it’s way to the hem of your short dress. Once there, it lingered, seductively tracing the hem.

“Your print doesn’t count?”

She smiled, then leaned to your ear. Her lips were close enough for you to feel them.

“Nope. He likes to watch. Take a look.”

You slyly glanced to the one she’d called Lowball, and sure enough, he was watching the two of you like a hawk on his perch.

“See. He gets off on it, especially if the new treat has to be broken in. Do you?”

You turned to look at her, your lips were centimeters apart, but you didn’t back down.

“Do I what?”

She smiled, bit her bottom lip then spoke. “Need to be broken in.”

You slowly smirked then bit your own bottom lip. Two can play this game.

“Depends on who’s doing the breaking,” you replied.

The brunette smiled, then closed the gap between you, pressing her lips to yours. Before you knew it, she was taking charge of a sultry kiss. She rolled her tongue around yours then sucked. As she did, you felt her hand cup your breast. Your first instinct was to pull away, but you also knew that was the wrong instinct. This was a test. You allowed her to kiss you, then battled her for control. After a minute, the kiss was still going, but once you thought of it, she pulled away, sucking her bottom lip.

“Was I your first?”

You gave her a faux shy smile. “No”

She smiled wider.

“Hey, lowball. This stallion is a certified good time.”

She looked away from you for a few seconds and looked to Lowball before she smiled wider.

“Let’s go.”

You allowed her to lead you by the hand through the room filled with sex and drugs until you were in a hall. Neither of you spoke, and when you looked behind you, there was Lowball with his eyes on you.

“I’m Tommi, by the way,” the brunette said with a smile.

Soon you walked inside of a bedroom that was made of luxury but built for a sleaze. The room was filled with glass and leather. It even smelled like leather. The more you walked into the room, the more detail you took in. The linen on the bed was black silk, and there was even a mirror above the bed.

“Go get ready, Tommi. Let me have five minutes with this beauty.”

Your gut tensed, and Tommi hesitated, looking at Lowball.

“Aww, you’re going to have fun without me, daddy?”

Her whine was loud. Lowball smiled.

“Don’t worry, angel, I promise you’ll be here for the fun stuff.”

Tommi glanced at you, then back to Lowball, then shrugged as she walked to another door inside the bedroom. Before she closed the door behind her, you noticed her hand making fists in a staggered pulse pattern. Instantly you recognized it as a common sign you’d learned at Quantico. It meant you’re not alone or among friends. Tommi was the undercover agent with SVU. You looked to Lowball who stared at you as if he were trying to figure you out and unnerve you. You wouldn’t let it work.

“Dulce, cute name. how are you going to prove it?”

“The easiest way to find out if something is sweet is to taste it,” you teased, uncrossing and crossing your legs again.

His eyes dropped to them, and that was where they remained. After too long, he stood and walked over to the bar. You heard the clinking of glass and crystal and anxiously waited for either him or Tommi to come back in. when he turned to you again, he held two glasses filled with a brown liquid. When he sat again, you watched him dig into his pant pocket and come back out with a small clear packet with white powder inside of it.

Fuck, you thought. Many perps who operated sex trafficking rings liked to string their girls out before spending time with a perp. The gossip was the drugs always made the girls more compliant and easier to take advantage of. You watched him pour the contents into one of the glasses. Your stomach fell.

“Oooh, daddy, now we’re really starting this party,” Tommi interjected as she crossed the room dressed in a sexy burgundy lingerie set.

“Mmm, you look, wonderful angel,” Lowball complimented.

He held out the glass that was substance-free to Tommi and held the one that he’d just laced to you. You hesitated. You knew precisely what the plan was after you drank that, and depending on what it was, you had thirty minutes before your choices would no longer be your own.

“There are two ways out of this room, Dulce. Covered in, or filled with my superior cum or dead. Your choice,” Lowball informed.

Tommi caught your eye. She sat on Lowball’s knee, rubbing his arm, but her eyes were dark.

“Take a ride with me, Dulce,” she chimed.

Sighing, you took the glass and swirled the liquid around, examining how undetectable whatever it was he’d poured in was. You downed the drink in one rise and tried to keep from vomiting. Shit was about to get real, you thought.

Lowball smiled then stood, making Tommi stand as well.

“Good job Dulce. I knew you’d see it my way,” he said before he walked away to the door.

“I’ll be back in as much time as it takes that to kick in. You girls have some fun.

The door closed behind him, and you gasped. Tommi was beside you in seconds. She dipped a little lower to come face to face with your earrings.

“She’s just ingested Rolong. It’s a nastier version of Rohypnol these assholes craft themselves. You have thirty maybe forty minutes to figure out a way to grab control of this sting, or else your girl will find herself in a situation she won’t be able to avoid.”

She looked at you, and though she looked relatively calm, you could still see some sort of panic in her eyes.

“I have this.”

She dug in her cleavage and pulled out a syringe. You had no idea how she’d concealed it for its size.

“What—what is this?”

“It’s adrenaline. It’s not much, and it won’t have a big of an impact as I’d like, but it will help with the effects. It’ll buy us maybe fifteen minutes,” Tommi explained.

“Fine.”

You held out your arm, giving her permission to inject you.

“It’ll work better to your thigh.”

Tommi pulled up your dress to find the right spot, then lowered the needle. Before she inserted the tip into your skin, she looked back at you. You gave her a nod to proceed. The injection's sting was sharp, and it felt as if it continued to go for so long.

“Here we go,” Tommie whispered before she administered the medical cocktail.

The burn in your thigh began almost immediately. It was a burn that increased, a burn that intensified until it felt like a terrible muscle spasm without the pain. Once the burn subsided, you could have sworn you felt the drug course through your body. It could have been your imagination or the effects of the other drug you’d ingested. You didn’t know.

“In a minute or two, you’ll feel like you’ve stuck your finger in a socket. Try to remain calm. Remember, when he returns, he will be expecting you to be disoriented and pliable. You have to play along, or he will know something is not right. Do you understand me?”

You nodded though your head felt heavy, and you felt as if you were about to topple over any minute. The woman in front of you was no longer clear or alone. There looked to be three or four of her. You tried to snap yourself out of it, and that was when you felt your heart begin to race. It began beating ten times faster than it had before. The only other time you recalled it beating like this was with OA. You heard Tommie speak again, but you didn’t quite understand what she said. It sounded muffled and distorted as if her voice was from a static transmission.

“Come, you have to be ready by the time he gets back,” Tommie said.

She walked over to the bench in the bedroom and returned with a black two-piece lingerie set along with a pink robe. This was not new to you. Men like these liked to see their prize displayed in as little clothes as possible. You dressed with Tommi’s help. With each passing minute, you felt the effects of both the adrenaline and the drug. Also, with each passing minute, your movements became slower and slower.

Once you were changed, you looked at yourself in the mirror, and you looked ready to seduce any man. You staggered to the bed and then dropped onto it, unable to even carry the weight of your own body anymore. Tommi sat beside you and opened her mouth to say something but the door suddenly opened. Tommi laid on top of you and whispered for you to play along. She nuzzled your neck while caressing your thigh.

“Don’t let me interrupt. I think I’ll watch for a moment,” Lowball said.

Tommi looked at him and smiled. “I have a better idea. Let me entertain you while the Rolong takes full effect.”

She stood and walked to Lowball, who was seated a few feet from the bed. The sound of loud pop-rock filled the room, and Tommi’s hips moved along with it. You laid there feeling as if there was a war going on inside of you. Two impulses were fighting for control. One impulse wanted to lay there, do nothing and stare at the ceiling that had begun spiraling as if it were a kaleidoscope. The other impulse wanted to get up and dance as if this were the last night you would be alive. Your limbs didn’t know which to listen to. Every time your muscles twitched to stand, your upper body refused to obey.

Your brain found it next to impossible to think of one thing. It continued to jump from topic to topic, making you dizzy in the process. You tried to fight against the effects of the roofie you’d been given. You tried to aid the adrenalin pumping through your body, trying to work as a diluting agent. Several times time felt as if it lagged. It felt as if even your blinking was slowed, taking forever to close your eyes and open them again.

When you felt the bed dip, you didn’t know how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity. Looking to your right, you saw Tommi. She came to your ear and whispered.

“We have ten minutes,” she whispered before she climbed on top of you then pulled Lowball into her embrace. You laid there watching, becoming more and more unsure of what was happening.

“I think she’s ripe for the plucking.”

Tommi giggled, then looked down at you.

“I think we’d have a better time making her watch first. She needs to know what you like, daddy.”

He looked to be contemplating things, and as he did, his eyes roamed over your body, taking in every detail. You felt a hand slide down your body, beginning at your neck and down the center of your body until it reached your navel.

“I like that idea.”

With that, he pulled Tommi to him, leaving you there to watch and listen. Your being must have felt how precarious your situation was because a strong will to fight overcame you, giving you renewed energy.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

Lowball pushed Tommi aside and climbed on top of you, burying his face in your neck.

“The best way to learn is to do. She will catch on quick if she wants to live.”

Almost as soon as his hands began roaming your body more vigorously, screams could be heard, but Lowball didn’t budge. When he heard the sound of a gunshot and glass shattering, he rolled off of you, dropping to the floor beside the bed. The room began to fill with smoke.

“Stay here,” Tommi shouted.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion, but real-time at the same time. You desperately tried to keep up.

“Snap out of it, Y/N. Get up. Get up!”

Though you were trying, your limbs were not obeying you. The sound of gunshots became louder and more persistent. Coughing, you tried to focus on making yourself get up. You tried to will your body to cooperate. Clenching your jaw, you screamed.

“Get up!”

With much effort, you rose then bent forward until you were able to sit up straight. Instead of celebrating this small feat, you willed yourself to stand. You stood then tried to steady yourself. Before you could take a step, someone barreled into you, taking you to the ground. That was when your muscle instinct took over. You swung a punch that connected with someone’s jaw. Not waiting for them to retaliate, you began fighting back, not knowing who you punched. When you felt knuckles connect with your face, it had a strangely sobering effect like a second injection of adrenaline.

You rolled onto them and proceeded to punch, not stopping. You felt a gun to your back. Before pausing, you punched the person underneath you once more. When you did that, the person behind you tried to grab you but got your robe instead, pulling it clear off you. As they did that, it gave you reprieve enough to do one of the tricky moves you’d learned at Quantico, which allowed you to flip the perp over your shoulder to land on the ground. You scurried around for the gun, praying you found it in time, especially with the fog in the room. When you grabbed it, you used the butt of the gun to slam down into the face of whoever was unlucky enough to find themselves your adversary.

You stood and staggered to the door, then leaned on it trying to catch your breath. You checked the magazine in the Glock you held. Satisfied, you took a few more breaths trying to overcome your debilitation.

“Let’s go, Y/N. You’ve got this.”

You pushed yourself off the door then proceeded to go through the hall, fighting every step of the way. Every few moments, you leaned against a wall to catch your breath. A few gunshots sounded behind you, making you crouch and aim backward to clip the kneecap of one of the despicable men who worked for Lowball. When they reached for their weapon, you shot again, seeing the bullet puncture their chest. While they pushed out their last breath, you continued on.

Getting to the stairs that led downstairs, you found bodies littered along the way.

“Stop right there!”

In front of you, the same man from the inspection stood there, pointing his pistol right at you.

“Ha, of course, it was you. I knew there was something off about you.”

“Guess you should have trusted your gut. Lower your weapon, and we’ll offer you a good deal,” you countered.

“Not a chance.”

“Listen dickhead. Do you hear that? That silence says your side has lost, and mine has won.”

He lunged for you, and his shoulder knocked the wind out of you as he took you down, making both of you tumble down the stairs. You felt each step the entire way down. When you’d finished tumbling, you laid there, unable to move.

“You bitch!”

He climbed on you and wrapped his hands around your throat, and began squeezing. You gagged and coughed. It was then that the roofie took the strongest hold of you. Your entire body felt heavy, and even the thought of clawing his eyes out was too much. Every time you lifted your hands to do the job, they only plopped back down. You knew you were seconds from blacking out and seconds from death.

He pulled one hand away, reached into his shirt pocket, and uncapped a needle with his mouth.

“Let’s see you survive this!”

He stabbed the needle into the side of your neck that he held with one impossibly strong hand. You screamed as he injected the substance into your bloodstream and, in the same breath, managed to reach the gun that was a few feet away from you and mustered enough energy to aim at his gut. A gunshot sounded, and the man’s movements above you paused for a moment before he tried to begin again. It was enough of a pause for you to take better aim with the gun, this time releasing another bullet in the center of his chest. He slumped forward enough for you to overpower him, but still, he fought. You rolled onto them and released one more bullet right in the center of his head.

It was then you shouted out before you dropped onto him, then flopped to your back to stare at the ceiling. The sounds of gunshots around you slowed to only a few every so often. You didn’t know how long you laid there. It could have been five, ten, or more minutes. When you felt able, you sat up and stood, using the wall to hold your weight.

With the gun in hand, you walked through the large home. You felt half-dead, and you knew it was whatever he’d injected you with. Your steps became slower and slower. Your movements more and more lagging. Still, you continued pushing through door after door, trying your best to fight. You slowly pushed through yet another door and found bright scope lights and red laser dots on your lingerie-clad body.

“Freeze!”

You tried to raise your hands but only made it halfway.

“Y/N!”

Hearing OA’s voice, your body finally gave out. Before you touched the floor, OA was there, engulfing you in his arms.

“I got you, baby. I got you,” he whispered.

You felt him tapping your cheeks, making you look at him blearily.

“Are you hurt?”

“Help me up.”

OA used his strength to stand you up. Kristen was to your side in seconds, and in a few more seconds, OA had draped his FBI jacket around your shoulders before he scooped you in his arms. Unable to fight the drugs in your system any longer, you passed out sure of your safety in OA’s arms.

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

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#partners fic #oa zidan #oa zidan fanfiction #zeeko zaki #zeeko zaki fanfiction #oa zidan x reader #oa zidan x you #oa zidan x black reader #fbi fanfiction #black fanfiction #angst fanfic

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hizashis-lil-bunbun · 4 years ago

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Like A Moth to a Flame- Pt. 1

Alright. So the incredible @miscellaneous-bnha pumped out some awesome Mothman Mirio HC’s for me last night because these past few days have been... interesting to say the least. So in return for the excellent meal, I’m dropping the first chapter of my own Mothrio fic! Smut is coming soon, don’t you worry.

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You’re startled awake by a loud crash in the alleyway outside your apartment, followed by the unmistakable sound of trash cans and recycling bins being knocked over. You sit bolt upright in bed, an icy shiver running up your spine as your brain conjures up images of bloodthirsty axe-murderers and psychopathic serial killers. Groping blindly for your phone, you pull it from under the pillows and dial 911, waiting with bated breath as your finger hovers over the call button. But when there’s no sound of breaking glass or your front door being kicked in, you relax slightly and slowly slide out from under the covers. Carefully, you pad out of the bedroom and make your way to the living room. Moonlight streams through the windows, creating soft, blueish squares on the hardwood floor. As you tiptoe closer to the main window, you look down into the alleyway below, your third floor apartment giving you the perfect vantage point. Overturned cans and trash bags litter the pavement with some of the bags appearing to have been ripped open and their contents strewn everywhere.

“Raccoons?” You think to yourself, before you notice something moving out of the corner of your eye. Something much bigger than a raccoon. The alleyway is capped off by a faded wooden fence, effectively turning it into a dead end. And in the light of the full moon you can see something or someone crouching in the corner where weathered wood meets worn brick. You’re too far away to make out any distinguishing features and they appear to be wearing some kind of cloak or shroud, hiding the mystery lurker’s face from view. Your first instinct is to call the police, as you still haven’t ruled out the possibility of thieves and murderers. But as you watch the figure shrink father into the shadows and notice the tremble that runs through their body, you can’t help but feel a twinge of pity for them. You don’t exactly live in the most glamorous part of town and it wasn’t uncommon to see your neighbors or their friends wandering the streets, drunk or stoned beyond reason. Hell, you’d helped them back home once or twice before, earning their gratitude for keeping them out of trouble with the law along with a bit of compensation. Usually in the form of food, drink, or a paltry sum of cash. So you choose the self-sacrificial route, slipping on a robe and good shoes before pulling up a rideshare app. You also take the liberty of arming yourself with a frying pan as you pass by the kitchen (you’re helpful, not stupid) before grabbing your keys and heading out the door.

You scurry down the stairs and through the back door leading to the alley, pulling your robe a little tighter in the wake of the chilly night air. The lurker is maybe 20 yards away, still cowering in the shadows and obscured by their outer attire. There’s a strange, keening noise coming from them, akin to a dog’s whine or a child crying.

“Hello?” You softly call out, taking a few steps forwards. The noise stops and they freeze at your words. “Are you alright? Do you need some help?”

Suddenly, the moon moves behind a cloud, throwing the alleyway into an eerie, inky darkness. You quickly pull up the flashlight on your phone and point it in the direction of the shrouded figure. You take a few more steps forward, your grip on the frying pan tightening instinctually. They begin to slowly move out from under their makeshift shelter, raising their head up to look at you. Your breath catches in your throat and you can’t decide whether to step closer or back away. The face staring back at you is nothing short of handsome, a bit boyish yet perfectly framed by a chiseled jaw and high cheekbones. He has a shock of blonde hair, bright as spun gold and sticking up in a wild, windblown manner. If you’d met someone like him on the street, you’d have sworn he was an actor or even a model. But it’s his eyes that give you real pause. They’re inhuman, round and glassy like twin marbles, and so vibrantly blue they rival the sky and sea in color. You can’t see any whites, or pupils for that matter, and the light from your flashlight makes them gleam like shards of broken glass. Just looking at them, you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight while your skin prickles with unease.

“W-w-who… wh-what…” You stammer, taking a cautious step back. The man, if you can call him that, suddenly shifts onto one knee before rising to his full height, those otherworldly eyes still firmly locked on yours. He’s massive, easily 8 feet tall if not more, and corded with rippling muscle from head-to-toe. His too-long limbs end in clawed hands and feet, caked with dirt and what you hope isn’t blood. A ring of equally golden hair (or maybe fur?) encircles his neck like a mane, tapering down his defined chest and abs. You notice with abject horror that he’s naked as what you thought was a cloak unfurls to reveal a pair of enormous, insect-like wings. They span the width of the alleyway, brushing against the brick walls on either side as the creature gives them an experimental flap. He blinks once and cocks his head, emitting a low, rumbling noise that snaps you out of your gawkish reverie.

You let loose a blood curdling scream and turn on your heel to run back to the safety of your apartment. In fact, you turn too quickly, tripping and sending yourself crashing to the pavement while the frying pan skitters off into the darkness. You flip onto your bottom and scrabble backwards, brandishing the light of your phone at the monster before you. But instead of charging or swiping at you, the beast lets out a high-pitched squeal of its own before hunkering back down in the safety of its wings. You don’t have time to worry or care about this odd reaction as you scramble to your feet and make a break for the alley door. Throwing it open with a bang, you bolt up the stairs to your apartment, fumbling to get the the key out of your robe pocket and keep hold of the phone in your hands. You keep looking over your shoulder as you jam it into the lock, expecting the demonic being to appear behind you any second, until you finally hear the telltale click and burst through the door. You slam it shut (neighbors and noise complaints be damned!) and run into the kitchen to grab a large knife from the sink. Blood is roaring in your ears and you’re breathing heavily as you lean against the counter, keeping one eye on the front door and one on the windows.

But no sound comes to indicate the creature is pursuing you or if he’s even nearby. Still wielding the knife, you creep over to the living room window and peer around the frame. The moon has come out from behind the clouds, illuminating the alley once more. To your utter shock, the beast is still there, cowering like a wounded animal once again. After a few tense minutes you see him peer out from his self-made cocoon, flaxen hair practically glowing in the moonlight as he looks around. Slowly, almost timidly, the brute uncurls from his fetal position and stands upright. He’s no less terrifying than before, but at least you’re observing from a safe distance this time. You watch as he lumbers forward, leaning down to paw at the spot you had been standing in moments before. He scratches at the concrete, occasionally pausing to sniff his hand before resuming his work. You can only imagine what’s running through his mind, but it can’t be anything good. He seems to grow tired of this activity after a minute or two and begins to pick over the debris at his feet, sifting through it almost like he’s looking for something. Morbid curiosity compels you to strain your neck a little farther, squinting to see what the beast is doing. After a few moments of searching the creature’s wings flap excitedly and he straightens up with something in his claws: your frying pan!

“What the hell…?” You breathe, watching him turn it over his hands, the silver metal glinting cheerfully in the moonlight. He then brings the handle up to his nose, closes his eyes, and inhales deeply. You’re about to let out another colorful expletive when his head suddenly snaps up, eyes wide open and staring up at your apartment window. You gasp and hide behind the wall, unconsciously holding your breath as you silently pray the creature didn’t spot you. When nothing happens, you chance another peek out the window. He’s gone, the spilled garbage in the alleyway the only evidence that something had been out there.

“Fuck.” You curse on a shaky exhale, dropping the knife with a clatter and rubbing your temples. “What the fuck just happened? Am I going insane? There’s no way that thing was real!”

You steal another cautious glance into the alley, unsure if you’re hoping to see the monster again or not. But the alley is silent now, save for a few stray cats that have shown up to inspect the trashy feast. With a trembling hand you pick up the knife and carry it into your bedroom, not even bothering to disrobe as you place it on your bedside table and curl up on the mattress. Sleep eventaully overpowers you, but your dreams are haunted by shadowy, winged creatures with glowing blue eyes. You wake up utterly exhausted the next morning, unsure if you’d really seen something last night or if you’d just had a vivid nightmare. Unsure that is, until you can’t find your frying pan anywhere.

#mothmanmirio #mothrio #mirio x reader #mirio togata x reader #togata mirio x reader #bnha x reader #mothman au #bnha #bnha au #bnha mothman au

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eredins-a-king-aint-he · 4 years ago

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@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo fill for “hiding in the same hiding spot” 

Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Viper’s Hands 

Relationship: Lambert/Letho z Gulety | Letho of Gulet  

Rating: E (Explicit) Content warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Finger Sucking, Semi-Public Hand Job, Dirty Talk, Frottage 

Summary: Lambert needs a place to hide, but finds that the nearest spot is already taken.  Fic on Ao3

“Get back here, you fucker!”

At the sound of the yell, Lambert is already on his feet and running. He had hoped that visiting a bar all the way across the city would help him avoid the owner of that particular voice, but it seems that luck is not with him today. It usually isn’t. His one blessing is that he’s fast.

He’s out of the bar and around the corner in the blink of an eye. If he’d had his friends with him, he might’ve tried to make a stand, but he’d come out alone, and if he wasn’t careful he might end up in the gutter alone. He makes a quick turn, then sprints down the street and makes another. It’s late enough that the streets are fairly empty, which is another stroke of bad luck.

I guess I’ll have to find somewhere to hide, he thinks, his lungs beginning to burn. A moment later, he spots a dingy alleyway.

Good enough. He jogs between the buildings, his mind whirring. It’s definitely not the best place to hide, there’s nothing but a few dumpsters—

A hand, an enormous hand, shoots out from behind the dumpsters and grabs him, dragging him swiftly down behind the big plastic cans. He opens his mouth to yell, but another large hand clamps over his face, barely leaving his nose uncovered so he can breathe. When he tries to struggle in his weirdly crouched position, his captor pulls him back between large thighs and against a huge, very warm body.

“Shut up,” a deep, gravelly voice whispers, “or we’re both gonna be in trouble.”

Lambert freezes. He recognizes the voice. In his memory, it belongs to an acquaintance of one of his friends, a goliath of a man who never seemed to talk much.

The hand over his mouth doesn’t relax when he stops fighting it, nor does the arm holding him against the other man’s front, in fact they tighten. He is completely immobile, settled between a pair of meaty thighs and pressed tight to the solid heat behind him, and—

Fucking hell, not now—

But of course his stupid body doesn’t care how badly he might get the shit kicked out of him if those men find him, it has a mind of its own. Being held like this, a hand over his mouth, an arm wrapped tightly around his middle, pinning his arms to his sides, it does something to him. Heat spreads through him, rising up his neck into his cheeks and sinking into his lower belly. His legs begin to tremble, threatening to let him drop onto the concrete below.

Hot breath gusts against his ear, and he barely manages to hold back a moan, wiggling slightly against the grip around his waist.

“Shh,” his captor hisses. “They’re still close.”

A moment later, Lambert hears voices pass by. They seem to pause for a moment, then they move away, and the only noise that remains is the frantic thumping of his own heart in his ears. His body is thrumming with adrenaline and arousal, drawn as tight as a wire. He’s also hard as a rock.

After another minute, the man holding him loosens the hand over the lower half of Lambert's face.

“Lambert, right?” he growls. “Seen you with Geralt and Eskel sometimes. Figured I should help out when you ran up like a little bunny rabbit, lookin’ all scared.”

Lambert opens his mouth to reply, but a soft gasp escapes his lips instead. Heat floods his face, this time from embarrassment.

“I wasn’t fucking scared,” he snarls quietly, keeping his voice soft in case his pursuers decide to return. “I was just looking for a place to squat so I could wait them out, but I didn’t realize this spot was fucking taken.”

The man behind him chuckles, and fuck if it doesn’t feel good to have the sound roll through his body like a wave. Lambert bites his lip. He wonders whether or not he should mention that the man— Letho, he suddenly remembers— is still holding him, one arm wrapped around his waist. Letho seems to be thinking the same thing, as he says,

“Surprised you haven’t pushed me off yet.”

His mouth is still barely inches away from the back of Lambert’s neck, and his breath sends goosebumps across Lambert’s skin.

“My legs are asleep,” Lambert retorts, blushing. “I don’t wanna pitch forward into the dumpsters and wake the entire damn neighborhood.”

In this position, nestled firmly between the big man’s thighs, Lambert suddenly notices that he can feel something hard pressing against his ass.

Fucking hell, he thinks wildly. He’s into it too. …This is a terrible idea.

He shifts a little, trying to very subtly grind against the hard length behind him, and he hears the big man’s breath hitch.

“You doin’ that on purpose?”

The growl is low and dangerous and right next to his ear and Lambert nearly moans out loud.

“What if I am?” he manages between clenched teeth. His cock is straining against his jeans at this point, aching to be let free.

“If you aren’t, gonna help you up,” Letho says softly. “If you are…”

“Yeah? Then fucking what? What are you gonna do?”

The aggression of the challenge is diminished by the fact that Lambert is nearly panting now, desperate to either be touched or to quickly find a place where he can touch himself. The arm around his waist tenses.

“If you are, we might as well do somethin’ about it,” is the slow reply. “How about you give me a good old-fashioned go ahead instead of makin’ me guess.”

Lambert groans.

“Fucking… Yes,” he finally grunts.

“That’s a good little bunny,” Letho murmurs into his ear, and Lambert melts. The grip on his waist loosens, then huge hands are deftly undoing his belt and his fly. When a warm, soft palm finally wraps around his aching cock, Lambert is ready to explode.

“Guess you like bein’ held and gagged,” Letho comments, and when Lambert takes a breath to make a snappy reply, the big man thrusts two thick fingers into his open mouth.

“Quiet,” he says. “Or do you wanna be found like this?”

Lambert tries to make an indignant noise, but the sound is depressingly muffled, so he closes his lips around the fingers instead. Determined to not be completely beaten, he begins to suck, using his tongue against the sensitive undersides of the fingers, and is rewarded with a soft growl beside his ear. The fingers pull out of his mouth.

“Spit,” is the quiet command, and Lambert does as he’s told without thought, spitting into the offered hand. Seconds later the fingers slide back into his mouth as the other hand slicks against his erection. He moans.

“More suckin’, less noise,” Letho grunts. “Show me what that foul mouth of yours can do.”

That’s a challenge Lambert can get behind. The hand around his cock pumps slowly as he does his best to tease Letho into moving faster. It works, the grip around him tightening, the hand picking up speed. Pleasure starts to rush into his core with every stroke, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. His breath begins to burn in his chest, light sparking behind his eyes. His legs tremble.

“You gonna cum?”

He nods frantically, feeling his muscles tightening like a spring, then Letho’s hand clamps over his mouth again.

“You strike me as a screamer,” Letho murmurs into his ear. “Let’s not wake up the ‘entire damn neighborhood.’”

He’s right, but Lambert would never willingly admit it. Instead he lets go, surrendering to release with a muffled cry, his body shaking with the force of the climax. Letho waits for him to ride the wave to completion, then slowly uncovers his mouth.

“Hot,” the big man says. Panting, Lambert leans back against the solid warmth for a moment, then reaches down and shoves his sticky, softening cock back into his pants.

“Want a drink?” he manages between breaths. “Might as well thank you for— Uh, yeah. Everything.”

Letho chuckles.

“Wouldn’t mind, little bunny. Watching you cum like that made me thirsty.”

The words make Lambert shiver, and he tries to stand up.

“I’m stuck,” he finally admits, then suddenly he’s rising into the air, a hand under each armpit.

“Let’s go,” Letho says, sounding amused. “Lead the way.”

Though his legs are a little unsteady, Lambert can still walk, so he heads toward the street and steps out into the open.

“There he is!”

Lambert whips around and sees two men advancing on him. His muscles twitch, ready to spring into action, but then someone walks up behind him, casting a much longer shadow than his.

“Ah,” Letho says. “How’d you manage to piss these guys off?”

“Long story,” Lambert replies.

The two men had frozen when Letho appeared. They seem to be debating whether or not they should back down, then one of them steps forward.

“Boss says you gotta pay,” he snarls at Lambert. “Don’t care if you’ve found yourself a meat shield in the dumpsters.”

Lambert begins to make a snarky retort, but Letho is quicker. He moves so fast Lambert can hardly follow what is happening, and a moment later the man who had spoken is lying flat on his back on the sidewalk, out cold, while his companion sprints away.

“Now that,” Lambert says, “is hot. Come on, let’s get out of here before they find backup.”

He begins to jog off in the other direction, and Letho catches up to him easily.

“They’ll be after you too, now,” Lambert says conversationally. “And they’re fucking persistent.”

“Me and my boys will take care of them,” Letho replies, sounding completely unconcerned. Casting a sideways glance at him as they jog, Lambert gets a better look than he had before in the darkness of the alley.

He looks like someone I would not want to fuck with, Lambert decides. Those tattoos must have cost him a fortune. How have I never noticed them before?

Dark designs cover the entirety of the man’s hands and arms, as well as the bare skin of his neck. Lambert finds himself distractedly wondering where else the man has ink, and he nearly trips. A hand closes around his arm like an iron shackle, steadying him.

“Careful there, bunny,” Letho says with a grin. “Wouldn’t want you getting too friendly with the sidewalk.”

The grip around his bicep is very distracting.

“I don’t plan to get too friendly with anything,” Lambert says irritably. “Not unless you wanna help me get real friendly with a wall.”

“You askin’ me what I think you’re askin’ me?”

“I might be.”

And suddenly Lambert finds himself crushed face-first against the nearby wall, gently enough so it doesn’t hurt him but swiftly enough to leave him breathless. Letho’s body holds him firmly against the bricks, hot and huge and—

Fuck, Lambert thinks, his mind swamped with arousal. He’s not used to feeling so small. Something thick and hard presses tantalizingly against his ass.

“Reconsiderin’ that drink offer yet?” Letho asks.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Lambert wheezes. “The only thing I’m reconsidering is not asking you to come back to my place and fuck me into oblivion first.”

Letho’s laugh shakes them both and fucking hell Lambert wants him right here, right now.

“I’d settle for the nearest bush at this point,” he manages. Hands grip his waist and Letho moves against him, rolling his hips, his erection rubbing against Lambert’s ass.

“Let’s get that drink first,” he growls, his breath tickling the back of Lambert’s neck. “It’ll be fun to watch you wiggle for an hour or two. Plus, I usually like to get to know someone just a little first.”

“Grabbing and hauling me behind some dumpsters isn’t exactly getting to know me,” Lambert says with a snort. Breath gusts over his ear, then lips press against the side of his neck.

“You’re an exception, bunny. …Plus, Geralt and Eskel have talked about you enough, it almost feels like I know you. Still wouldn’t mind that drink, though.”

Shivers roll over Lambert’s skin at the sound of that deep voice so close to his ear. Shoved flush against the wall like this, every tiny movement creates delicious friction against his growing hard-on.

“Let’s get that drink, then,” he grunts, “or I might cum again right here.”

Letho steps back, allowing Lambert to peel himself off the wall. After a moment of reorientation, Lambert sets off down the street, Letho a step behind him.

“There’s a place nearby that I’ve been to before,” he says. “It should be safe from those assholes… at least I think so.”

“No ones gonna bother you if I’m here,” Letho replies.

“They better not. I have a very packed schedule for tonight now, as long as having a drink with me doesn’t put you off.”

“Won’t.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Lambert says with a grimace. Letho snorts with amusement.

“Judgin’ by our encounter behind those dumpsters, I think we’ll get along real well, bunny.”

A little thrill of heat runs through Lambert every time he hears Letho’s deep voice saying that stupid, embarrassing nickname. If it was anyone else, he would’ve punched them, but—

“I fucking hope so,” he says. “And for fucks sake, don’t call me that again until we’re someplace where I can suck your dick about it.”

~~~

A ray of sunlight wakes Lambert the next morning by falling across his face. He cracks an eyelid, and doesn’t recognize the room he’s in. For a brief moment, he panics, then he remembers. Thick arms tighten around his middle. Lips press against the base of his neck.

“Mornin’,” a deep voice rumbles in his ear. He hadn’t thought that voice could get any sexier. Well, he had been wrong.

“Didn’t think you were the type to stick around,” Letho continues. “Thought you were gonna scamper away as soon as I was done with you.”

“I don’t even remember falling asleep,” Lambert admits, feeling heat creep into his cheeks. “I guess you wore me out.”

His body shakes with Letho’s chuckle.

“Good.”

Lips ghost against the back of his neck again, and the touch reminds Lambert of something he had been meaning to ask the night before. He wiggles, squirms, and manages to roll himself over in Letho’s hold.

“Who were you hiding from last night?” he demands. “I completely forgot to ask. Who the fuck could make you want to hide in an alleyway?”

Letho blinks slowly.

“My friends,” he says after a moment. “They were tryin’ to make me go on a blind date, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, I took a walk.”

“A walk?”

“Yeah, an evasive one. Not a fan of blind dates, at least the kind you have in a restaurant or some shit. Didn’t mind the one we had, though.”

“Dunno if I’d call that a blind date,” Lambert mutters.

“Doesn’t matter what you call it. It was hot.”

Grinning, Lambert slings an arm around the big man’s neck.

“It was. Anyway, how about we have another go, then we get breakfast somewhere, my treat.”

A quick scramble later and Lambert finds himself rolled over again, a huge hand clamped firmly over his mouth, the other holding him tight against Letho’s body. Teeth close gently around the shell of his ear, then a tongue slides against the surprisingly sensitive skin. Heat pours down his throat.

“That sounds like a plan,” Letho growls. “Now, be a good little bunny and beg for my cock like you did last night.”

~~~

Lambert takes a long drink from his glass. He’s been trying to keep the events of the past few weeks under wraps as best he can, but he forgot to wear something to cover the bite marks on his neck tonight, and he can practically feel the marks burning under his friends’ scrutiny.

“Nice necklace,” Eskel comments, indicating what he means with a free hand. “Didn't realize you liked wearing jewelry.”

“Oh, I saw that too,” Geralt adds. “Very fancy.”

“Fuck off,” Lambert mutters into his beer. His friends guffaw.

“Who do you think is the culprit?” Geralt asks the man next to him, who happens to be Geralt’s boss. The man stirs from his contemplation of a wine glass, blinks once, then smiles a close-lipped smile. Lambert belatedly remembers that this man is also heavily tattooed, just like—

“You know,” the man says in a soft voice, “usually I wouldn’t have an answer for you, but I did recently overhear a friend referring to Lambert here as ‘bunny’ and I couldn’t help but wonder…”

A hot flush rises into Lambert’s face as Eskel and Geralt howl with laughter, then begin pelting the man with questions. When he refuses to elaborate, they turn back to Lambert.

“Who is it?” they chorus in unison.

Lambert takes a drink of his beer instead of giving them an answer, and finds an excuse to leave as fast as possible. He has somewhere to be, anyway.

#rated: E #Lambert #witcher lambert #letho of gulet #lambert/letho #lamtho #my fic #cedar scribbles #dont come after me

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little-boats-on-a-lake · 4 years ago

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Part Fifteen (Part Two)

Potential tw: reference to self harm urges

He just didn't feel like going back to sleep. He doubted he even could if he wanted to. It would be better to just get a start on the day's work.

The weather was starting to change again. The harvest work was almost done. Sunny was so fast at it and she seemed to enjoy it. Except for the corn. They both hated corn.

The little fawn who had broken his leg seemed to enjoy corn. Gently petting the fawn’s head, he cracked a small smile as the tiny creature eagerly nibbled at his hand.

As if it could somehow sense his tension, the fawn stared at him before gently setting his head over the wisps of hair resting on his shoulder and licked at his ear. He giggled, a light and airy sound he doubted actually came from him.

"You're a friendly little one, aren't you?" He leaned against the little deer, feeling a quick heartbeat against his own. "Your leg healed ages ago. So why haven't you gone home yet?"

The fawn walked away from him and knelt down, resting against the soft place he had made for any of the creatures who needed help. It looked at him, as if to say, “What do you mean? I'm right at home."

Something flashed in his eyes as he realized he had never seen Sunny smile before as much as he had over the past month. Yes, he wasn't perfect and yes, he accidentally hurt her but they had both apologized profusely, even though she really didn't need to. Could she grow to love their home together like this little fawn had? A strange giddiness bubbled up in his chest as he imagined a life they could have together. He may not have had many things but he was happy. Maybe the two of them could be happy... together?

He left the fawn in his little shed with a quick scratch behind the ears and hiked back to the center around which his life was centered. And also the pantry. Today was bread day and the sun had only just risen. He may not have loved himself but he sure loved baking bread and that was enough for now.

The way the dough stretched out and wound itself around his fingers was a comfortable and familiar memory. Just like how Sunny would reach out and grab his hand when she dragged him to sleep at night. Not the time for that now-

"Not the time for what?"

He jumped back, arms held defensively in front of his dough. A laughter that chimed like a warm beam of sunshine drew his attention.

“How… how long have you been standing there!?” He didn’t mean to scream. But sometimes, a grown man just needs to scream to defend his bread from evil invaders who come to damage the bread.

It was so adorable when he got flustered like that. Felicity brushed off a small bit of flour that had found its way onto his forehead.

“Relax, silly. I live here too, you know?”

“I… uh, you-“ He stammered, trying to enunciate his words with sticky hands.

“Calm down!” She pushed herself up to sit on top of the edge of the table and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Wait, what are you-“

“Shhh. I’m tired and your shoulder is comfortable.”

“You- you can’t just!”

“I’m sleeping, you can’t just disturb a sleeping person.” She leaned in towards his neck.

He could feel her warm breath ghosting over his skin. It sent shivers racing down his spine, but a bubbly warmth rose up in his chest again. He thought it was going to rush out in an endless stream of words he wasn’t quite ready to say yet. The only word that came to his mind was yours.

He was. He really was. He wasn’t quite sure what exactly Sunny had done to capture his heart and soul like this, but if she asked for it, he would give it to her. Even if she would probably break it a million times over. He would give her everything he had.

What was it about her smile that made him feel like the world would last another day just because it was so beautiful? Why did every one of her freckles match a beauty he thought belonged only to stars in the endless night sky?He look over at her and he was reminded of how the sharp knife had stopped his breath last night. Where it was sharp, she was soft, sleepy smiles and gripped hands. Where the blade was dangerous, she was a source of comfort, warm nights with warm words and even warmer touches that held them through until the morning. How could he have ever thought the two were the same when they were so different in every way? Her eyes, endless pools of an abyss he could stare into for days, held so much emotion it hurt just to look at it. They quirked up, asking what he was doing, and it felt like the world itself dropped from beneath his feet. What was the world anymore, if he could comp-

“Your hair is getting so long.” She murmured, interrupting his trance. Sunny reached for a particularly long strand and lazily twirled it around her finger. He almost reached for it self-consciously until he remembered the dough covering his fingers. The dough! He was baking bread! Not now, obviously. But he was supposed to be!

He ripped his attention away from her and focused it solely on the bread before him.

It was hard when Sunny was right next to him, entranced by something as mundane as hair and looking like a dream from the heavens. Bread!

“It is getting a bit too long.” He said, desperately hoping his voice wouldn’t betray his heart today.

“I could braid it back if you want?” She suggested and oh, the thought of Sunny focused solely on him, tongue stuck out and eyebrows furrowed, was just a bit too much to handle.

“Uh, ah- I was actually planning to just cut it off.” He lied. Nope, nope, nope. He would most likely combust if she wove her fingers through his hair for something so mundane when he could do it himself.

He pushed the dough aside, finally ready to be baked, and brushed his hair back with his fingers. It was actually getting a little too long for his tastes.

“I guess I probably should trim it a little.” He murmured, eyeing the knife on the table.

He still really didn’t want to touch it.

He was staring at it for an awfully long time. Felicity didn’t miss how he was spacing out. And how his side of the bed was so cold when she woke up. And the way he was so jittery and shaky when she startled him.

“Do you want me to cut your hair?” She offered. He looked at her with wide eyes, as if he couldn’t believe what she was offering. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you look as hot as usual.” She added with a wink, watching the pink creep over his face.

“It- me? It’s really, I mean I don’t thi-“ He stammered.

Sometimes when she was bored, Felicity would imagine how much he would stammer if she kissed him. Probably a lot.

“Come on, there’s better lighting outside.” For such a tall man, he was easily moved. She could drag him and he literally wouldn’t fight back. It was a little concerning sometimes.

She took the dark locks of hair in her hand and poised the knife above her fist.

“Wait! I need to.... uh...” Deep breaths, it was just a little bit of responsibility. She could handle something as small as that. “Wash! I need to wash your hair!”

“Huh?”

“You’re supposed to wash hair before you cut it!”

“I… I suppose?”

“Just… wait there!” Felicity dashed inside and came out with a bucket of water and soap. “Sit over on the porch.” She ordered when he tried to get up and help her.

“You’re so bossy.”

“I am, thanks for noticing.” She sat behind him, slowly working the bubbly lather into his black hair. He leaned into her hands massaging the soap into his hair. Heart, you need to stop racing right now. There was nothing even inherently romantic, this was just so domestic and peaceful. Birds were singing in the trees and he was humming along lightly in harmony. The crisp morning air was starting to warm up enough for rays of light to dapple over them. It was beautiful in a way that never needed to try.

It was perfect.

She rinsed the suds out of his hair and wrung the water out of his hair with oddly skilled ease for someone who had rarely touched anyone else’s hair before. Soon enough, she ran out of things to procrastinate with. Deep breath. It’s going to be okay. It’s just hair.

She picked up the knife and held it firmly in her hands. It was extremely different from a sword. Swords were held towards an opponent, defensively drawn. This needed to be held to the side, working in tandem with her hands and his hair. Gah. The knife was placed firmly behind the hair and she held the hair firmly as the blade cut through the hair.

“I did it…” She mused, the lock of hair shining like a trophy in her hand.

“Why do you sound so shocked?” He laughed, but his smile quickly dropped. “Wait, you have done this before, right?”

“Nope!” Felicity chirped, cutting the hair off right below his neck.

“Wait, hold on-“ He protested before turning his head to look at her. Against the knife. Which was still against his neck.

His hand flew up to where her own had been and came away smeared in red.

“Oh…” His voice wobbled as he stared at the blood on his hand. His jaw twitched and set itself firmly, just like when he had an episode and he tried to pretend he was okay.

“Oh, goddess above, I’m so sorry!” Felicity resisted the urge to scream. It was an extremely unfortunate cut, considering how much blood was running down his neck. It... it was a lot.

“He... here. Hold... hold my hand aga-against the... thing.” His hand flickered with magic, but it was nowhere near his usual steady flame. It was crackling and broken and fizzled out before sparking up again.

“You can’t do it, can you?”

“I can! I just need to focus!”

She pushed his hand away.

“Teach me how to do it.”

“What? Now?”

“Yes. Right now. Teach me healing magic. Or may the Goddess help me, I will set my own hand on fire trying.”

They hadn’t tried anything with magic since what she had dubbed “the incident.” She was too scared of losing control again and he was probably still regretting hitting her with a damn frying pan. She didn’t mind. If anything, she was grateful he found some way to stop her before she hurt him.

“Teach me.” Felicity insisted, panic rising in her voice.

“Foc... focus your fi-fire. It... it pushes out the hu-hurt.”

She took a deep breath, feeling the underlying sensation he described as “fire” and thought of how she wanted to wash away all of the scars she had given him, all of the hurt she had caused.

How much she wanted to hold him and apologize for what she had done.

How much she was sorry.

A warm orange pulse lit up her fingers and drew closer to the fresh blood running down his back. It surged through the wound, healing the cut and barely leaving a scar. The change in his face was so clear, now that she knew what to look for. His jaw relaxed so subtly and his tensed hands unclenched. That little breath of relief he let out. When had she learned his tells and signs so well?

“How was that?”

He turned to look at her, studying her hands. Something about how intensely he looked at her made Felicity’s flutter. Even if it was just her hands. Even if she knew it would never be because she was beautiful. She knew she wasn’t. But a girl could dream.

“That was incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever healed like that.” Oh, and now he was holding her hand as if she was something precious and delicate. Wonderful. “Are you okay? Do you need to take a nap or do you want to have lunch?”

“I’m fine?” That… was an odd question…

“You aren’t tired? At all?”

“No? I actually feel really energized. Like I could run for miles.”

“Curious…”

He looked up at her face and oh, her heart had never felt more fragile. He was just so beautiful, it hurt to look at him in this moment, with the sun glowing behind him and his face filled with gorgeous curiosity. If there was a goddess, she had made him by hand. He was too beautiful to be made from the earth.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“…did you miss the part where you almost bled to death because of me?”

“You’re being dramatic. It wasn’t that bad. And besides, it was mainly my fault.”

“Still.”

“You healed it, didn’t you? That takes a lot of energy. I’d call it even.”

“I wouldn’t.” She pouted. Something by the corner of her eye caught Felicity’s attention. “Hold on.”

“What? You’re just going to get up and leave me here?”

“You big baby, you can get up if you want. But you can’t. Not yet. And close your eyes!”

“And yet I’m the childish one.”

“Shut up.” She threaded the strands through quickly, remembering the familiar rhythm.

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“No, and I said to shut up.” She shot back playfully. She stepped over to the porch and sat beside him, holding her gift with gentle hands.

“Now?” True to his word, his eyes were still shut, but the rest of his face seemed determined to make up for what emotion was lost with his eyes.

“Now.” Felicity almost buzzed with excitement.

“For… for me? You… you made a flower crown? For me?” He stared at the cheerful wild orchids braided together.

“Yep!” She fixed it over his hair, which apparently curled as it dried. Why did he have to be so gorgeously perfect? The bright purple was stark against his black hair and fell over his eyes. He touched it in awe, a blush rising in his face. So adorable. She could adore that look on his face for years, never growing tired of his innate allure.

“And now we’re even. You look wonderful.” But then again, that wasn’t too hard for him. He was eternally wonderful, inside and out.

If you liked this, please remember to like and reblog! Every little bit counts! (And yes, the corn was a reference to @notdingalingalingalingrita’s slideshow fanfiction thing, love ya Charles)

Home

Taglist: @aredhel-of-gondolin @archaeowhumps s @dylkntz @jack-the-talking-sword-of-summer @mistyw273 @mistyskiesrambles @nowisthetimetocarrythebanner @theclassyghost @voltronimusprime @pancake0606 @thefancypigeon @mercerswillie @notdingalingalingalingrita @bad-ideas-everywhere @ad-dictionary @cecilsstorycorner @metanoiamorii @picazos-angsty-typist @dontdropthejam @liker2525 @archaeologydigit @foxy-22-v @fruggin-bitch @zielenbloesem @official-blonde-superman @fool-of-a-triceratops @chaos-theory-exhibit-a

#writing #writeblr #fluff #original characters #oc #my writing #please #i am asking politely #please reblog this

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bitchin-beskar · 4 years ago

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What Are Those?

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: G

Word Count: 1k

A/N: This... this is just crack. Pure and simple. Blame @immortalwarriors for this cursed idea and The Gay Guard gc for encouraging this madness.

Tags: @the-killer-queenie @perropascal

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my works!

Please consider liking and reblogging! I love the feedback!

“OW! What the–”

Nile stood on one leg, rubbing the bottom of her other foot. She peered at the ground, trying to figure out what she’d stepped on. Her brows furrowed as she noticed a small rubber cross laying on the ground. She picked it up, looking at it closely.

“Is this a–”

“Oh, you found it!”

Nile turned, her eyes widening as she took in the scene before her. Nicky was standing there, looking absolutely, completely, one-hundred percent normal, except for one thing. On his feet, were a pair of well-worn, bright yellow crocs.

He was holding his hand out expectantly, and Nile slowly handed over the cross, watching as Nicky bent down to put it in the only empty hole. “Is that–? Are you–?”

Nicky looked up at her, clearly confused. “Am I what, Nile?” She opened and closed her mouth, trying to get the words to come out.

“Are–Are you–Are you wearing crocs?”

Nicky frowned standing up. “What’s wrong with crocs?” The question was so genuinely pure, Nile almost couldn’t believe it. She sputtered, turning to look at Joe as he entered the room.

“I–I, wha– Joe, explain!”

The man in question sighed upon seeing Nile’s face. “Which one did you step on?” At Nile’s confused face, he elaborated. “Nicky’s constantly losing JibbitzTM, which one did you step on?”

“It was a cross…?”

Joe nodded. “Yeah, he loses that one all the time. It’s almost… poetic, I think.” He sat down at the table, and Nile fell into a seat across from him. Nicky moved to the pantry and started pulling out ingredients to make dinner. Every time his crocs squeaked, she winced.

“Joe… Why…?”

She’d never seen Joe looked defeated, but here, sitting across from him, he looked like he’d just been told he had two weeks to live. Or that someone had kicked his puppy. “Nicky’s always loved clogs. We were in Amsterdam, around 1230, I think? Clogs had just started to become popular, and he fell in love. He always insisted on having a pair for in the house, and a pair to travel in.” Joe shook his head. “It drove Andy nuts. Quynh thought it was adorable.”

Nile nodded distractedly, unable to fully focus with the constant squeaking of the crocs on the kitchen floor.

“So, when crocs were made, in 2002, Nicky had to have a pair.” Joe sighed again. “Of course, he couldn’t pick just one color.”

Nile frowned. “What, so he bought a couple?”

Joe groaned, banging his head on the table. “I wish,” he mumbled, before lifting his head. “No, Nicky bought a pair in every. single. color. available.” Nile gaped, and Joe just nodded. “Yeah, we have at least two pairs in every safe house, and I think Nicky might have collected every single JibbitzTM ever created.”

“Not true!”

Nicky poked his head around the corner from the pantry. “I own every single one of the JibbitzTM crocs ever made, but the off-brand ones?” Nicky shook his head. “I’m sure there are ones I haven’t purchased yet. Every time I see a new one, I make sure to buy it, but I know that some have slipped through the cracks.”

Nile looked horrified. “How do you remember all of the ones you do own?”

Nicky grinned. “Booker made a spreadsheet!”

***

Nile really knew she was a part of the family when that Christmas, under the tree, along with all the other presents were a brand new pair of white, fur-lined crocs with her name on the tag.

***

Nile was walking through the farmer’s market, browsing the different stalls. They were back in America, after spending a couple of decades traveling across Europe, Andy had decided it was safe for them to hop back across the pond. Nile was excited to be back home, even if it wasn’t her home state.

As she passed one of the stalls, she noticed they were selling a wide variety of home-made things, including what looked to be JibbitzTM. Nile tried to walk past the stall, she really, really did. But in the end, she went back, looking through the different options. She found a mini frying pan and a plate of spaghetti, and before she could second guess herself, she was pulling her phone out to text Booker.

His exile had lasted all of a week before the others had snapped. They’d marched to Booker’s safe house in France, and pulled him out of his drunken stupor. Nile had gotten him hooked up with online therapy, and although Joe was still a little peeved with him, their family was back to normal. Well, relatively. Nothing was really normal when you had five immortals living under one roof.

She sent him pictures of both of them, with a one-word text. Spreadsheet?

She didn’t have to wait long for a response. Nope. Well, that settled it. She purchased both of them, cringing a little at the price. (Ten bucks? Seriously? Well, she guessed they were technically a ‘novelty item’ now. Damn she felt old.) She shoved them into her pocket, figuring she could give them to Nicky later that night.

***

Nicky was so excited by her purchase that he forgot about the pizza in the oven. It burned, quite badly, and they had to order in. Nile made the mistake of suggesting Olive Garden.

Nile never made that mistake again.

***

The first time Nile wore her crocs without Nicky prompting, Joe immediately stood up from the table, throwing his pencil down. “No! I’m done!” He cried, storming out of the room. Nile looked worried until Nicky reassured her.

“Do not worry, Nile. Joe has said he’s ‘done’ at least twice every decade, and he’s still here.”

***

When they pulled Quynh from the ocean, over seven-hundred years since she’d first been thrown in, her first act, once she’d woken up, was to attack Andy. Once they got her calmed down, and Andy had tearfully apologized for taking so long, Quynh greeted the others. She hugged Joe, Booker, and even Nile, but when she got to Nicky, she stopped, staring at his feet.

She looked up, stared him straight in the eyes, and asked, “What are those?”

Nicky grinned. “They are my crocs!”

#The Old Guard #crack #do not take this seriously #crack headcanon #joe x nicky #poor joe #nicky loves his crocs #and joe loves nicky #but he hates crocs #its a vicious cycle #andy #quynh #nile #nile is just confused #vine reference #what are thooooose #they are my crocs!#this is a cursed fic

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rubberfuckey · 5 years ago

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me & you together song - jj maybank

an: hi!!! here we go again with another jj fic :) as always feedback is appreciated :) this is inspired by the 1975′s “me & you together song”, specifically the bridge; it might not fully go along with the meaning of the actual song since the song is about unrequited love but i put a little fluffy spin on it :) we love a happy ending

here’s a youtube link to the song if you want to check it out

words: 2.3k

warnings: just some swearing, sorry mom

I've been in love with her for ages

And I can't seem to get it right

jj woke you up from your sleep on the pullout couch at the chateau with a chipper “morning sunshine!” as he practically jumped on top of you.

“jj what the hell.” you mumbled as you wiped the drool from the corner of your mouth. you tried to push your messy hair out of your face as jj finally laid down next to you, laying his head on your chest and looking up to you. you knew you were currently at your worst, you drank way more than you intended to at the party last night and don’t even remember getting back to john b’s. your head was spinning as you tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes, adjusting to the bright sunlight.

“what time is it? and how are you so energetic?” you said softly, keeping your eyes closed because your headache was overbearing.

“y/n it’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon,” he laughed as he reached up to wipe some of the mascara from under your eye that must’ve smeared during your sleep. you were still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and at that moment he was glad your eyes were closed so you couldn’t see the look of admiration on his face.

“did you bring that tourist chick back with you last night?” you asked, trying to hide the jealousy in your voice and dreading his response.

“nah, someone had to take care of your drunk ass.” he replied. you, jj, and john b had all been best friends since third grade so you were very familiar with jj’s antics. you knew you loved jj, you were in love with him and had been for as long as you knew what being in love meant. some days you thought, or maybe hoped, that he returned the feeling but every time you got a little closer or touched a little longer, jj ran for the hills and right into the arms of some one night stand. he hated that he did it, but at this point it was like second nature. he was attempting to fill the y/n sized hole in his heart with someone else, it never worked but he’d be damned if he stopped stubbornly trying. it was a vicious cycle at this point, jj finds some girl to go home with and you spend the night trying to get drunk enough to forget about it. it never worked.

“sorry you had to be my caretaker.” you huffed, and jj just shook his head.

“anything for you, y/n.” he whispered back quietly, you almost didn’t hear him.

I fell in love with her in stages

little 8 year old jj was a hell raiser. 8 year old y/n? the complete opposite. you were soft spoken and incredibly kind for someone so young. when you first met jj, you were at recess sitting under a tree with some of your other classmates. you watched as the boys ran around, not caring how dirty and sweaty they got under the hot august sun. when one of the other girls started laughing at jj for tripping over his own two feet, you jumped up and ran over to him to see if he was okay. he shrugged you off, embarrassed at the fact that he fell on his ass in front of your entire class. he tried to get up from where he laid on the pavement, but you shoved him back down when you saw the scrape on his knee, and patted the blood up with the napkin from your lunchbox until your teacher came over to take him to the nurse. every kid in the class laughed, except you. you were different. little jj definitely had a crush.

after john b joined your friendship, you were like just one of the boys. jj’s crush was swept under the rug as you spent every waking moment with the both of them. it wasn’t until puberty started to hit that his crush resurfaced. he can still remember the moment where he looked at you and didn’t see you as y/n/n who’s just ‘one of the guys’. instead you were y/n, an incredibly hot girl jumping around with him on the dock dancing to the radio in just a bikini. from that day he started looking at you differently, but yet again it was swept under the rug as him just being a horny teenager.

when things started to get hard for jj with his dad, you were always there, tending to the wounds both physically and mentally. you cleaned up the cuts and took care of the bruises like you had done when he scraped his knee in third grade. you also didn’t let him shrug off the situation as easily as he could with john b or the other pogues. this wasn’t just ‘something that he’s dealt with before’ or ‘nothing he couldn’t handle’ to you and you held him when he broke down to you about it. you were always strong for him, no matter how bad it hurt to see him in that state. until one particular night where jj had shown up on your doorstep. he looked worse than he ever had and you almost considered calling an ambulance to make sure he was okay. you couldn’t take it, you broke down in sobs at the sight of him. you cleaned him up with tears running down your cheeks and you both held onto each other as if you’d disappear if you let go until you fell asleep together. he woke up the next morning to you holding onto him as tight as you could without hurting him in your sleep. your eyes were puffy and tears were staining your cheeks but you looked so beautiful in the morning light. that’s when jj knew he was in love with you.

My whole life there's been no way for me to say That I've felt a certain way for ages

everyone knew jj was in love with you. everyone knew you were in love with jj. but nobody knew why you two weren’t actually together. whenever anyone ever asked you, you played dumb. “jj? he’s just my best friend! has been forever!” you shot down the conversation before it had even started. jj was good at hiding it too. “come on dude, no pogue on pogue macking!”

he wanted you to know how he felt, but anytime he thought about just ripping the bandaid off the voice in his head stopped him. y/n is like an actual fucking angel. she’d never go for a screw up like you. she deserves more than you could ever give her.

since that morning on the couch two weeks ago, things had been as normal as they can be for you and jj. you woke up at the chateau planning on going out with them to grab a keg from the party later that day. you knew they were both still sleeping so you got up to make whatever food you could find for breakfast for the three of you. settling on some eggs, you cracked them and put them into the frying pan. it was completely silent as you stood over the stove watching them cook until jj snook up behind you. he grabbed you by your waist and picked you up. you yelped and went to smack at his arms that grabbed you but he just laughed and rested his head in between your neck and shoulder.

“j, i think you just gave me a heart attack.”

“what are you making? is there enough for me?” he asked looking up from your shoulder.

“well there was going to be plenty until you scared the shit out of me, now i’m super starving. i think i might eat all these eggs myself.” he laughed, lifting you up onto the counter with ease. he took over cooking the eggs while you sat there in a comfortable silence. he threw some of them on a plate for you and grabbed you a fork. as you sat on the counter eating the eggs, he leaned on the counter standing next to you with his own plate. you both finished eating, joking back and forth about whatever dumb stuff came to mind. he moved in between your legs to grab your plate but stood there for a second. you grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a hug.

“i love you. you’re my best friend.” you whispered. you don’t know what came over you or where you got the balls to say something like that but you didn’t regret it. she means as a friend, obviously. you think you’d ever actually have a chance?

“i love you too, y/n.” he whispered back, pulling away from the hug to drop the plate into the sink and go get dressed for the day. you sat on the counter holding back tears at the thought of him not meaning it the way you so desperately wanted him to.

with the keg secured on the beach at the boneyard, you waited for others to show up with kie. she could tell something was up so she pulled you away from the boys to talk to you.

“ok what’s up?” she asked bluntly.

“what are you talking about kie? i’m fine,” you gave her what you thought to be a convincing smile.

“did something happen with jj?”

you sighed and shook your head, “why don’t you believe me when i say there’s nothing going on with me and jj? just drop it, nothing would ever happen between us.” she looked stunned at your outburst as you looked anywhere but towards her.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered “i didn’t mean to be so rude about it.”

“it’s okay” she said back, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. you sat in silence trying to collect your thoughts before you decided to just let it out.

“i told him i love him. and nothing happened. he thought i meant in a best friend way. he’ll never see me as anything more.”

“y/n, come on, it’s jj. i knew that boy was in love with you from the first time i met you.” you just stayed silent, looking out at the ocean.

“pope, will you shut the fuck up about it?”

“no, fuck you jj, i’m tired of this. you love her, she loves you. be a man and go get her.” jj was almost shocked at the outburst from pope as he watched you and kie talk from across the beach.

“how are you so sure about that?” jj asked.

“you’d have to be blind, deaf and stupid to not see it.” john b chimed in.

jj chugged the rest of the beer in his cup and went for another one.

Oh I think our story needs more pages 'Cause I've been in love with her for ages And ages, and ages

you decided after a few drinks that you had had enough. you were tipsy, but not drunk enough to not know what you were doing. jj was sober, giving up on trying to get drunk enough to find interest in the girl standing next to him. he couldn’t stop thinking about this morning. was pope right? did he have a chance? walking away from where you sat on a log with kiara, you grabbed his hand without saying a word and dragged him away from where everyone was.

“thought i’d try to save you, you looked like you were about five seconds away from dying of boredom.” you giggled.

he just nodded, letting out a bitter laugh. the silence between you was awkward as you let go of his hand.

“or maybe you weren’t? i’m sorry if i interrupted.” you questioned.

“y/n what the fuck are we doing?” he asked lowly.

“what do you mean?”

“come on, you know exactly what i mean,” when you didn’t respond he continued, “this morning? what did you mean? and don’t act like you don’t know what i’m talking about.”

you hesitated, “i meant what i said. i love you.”

“yeah, but in like a best friend way, right?” he was avoiding looking at you at all.

“i don’t know, jj. did you want it to mean more? because i know what i said, but it seemed to be different when you said it back.”

“fuck this,” he mumbled under his breath, “y/n i’m so fucking in love with you, and i get it if you don’t feel the same way. i’ve spent years just trying to ignore the feelings because i know it’s selfish for me to want you when i know there’s something who could be bett-”

before he even finished that sentence you pulled him by his neck down to you and kissed him softly. before you could pull away to gauge his reaction, he grabbed your hips and pulled you back into him, instantly deepening the kiss. this was better than either one of you could’ve ever dreamt of it being. he pulled you towards him with his hands on the middle of your back as yours went up into his hair. he turned his head to deepen the kiss and you felt his tongue on your bottom lip before you pulled away, keeping your foreheads together.

“wow,” you panted, “jj-”

“i know.” he replied before you could even get your sentence out.

you smiled harder than you probably ever had before and he mirrored you.

“be my girlfriend.” he looked down, waiting for your response. you felt like you couldn’t form any coherent thought so you just nodded your head rapidly. he laughed at your reaction before lifting you up by your waist and spinning you around, kissing you again.

“let’s go home, j” you whispered, he grabbed your hand pulling you into the direction of the chateau not bothering to say bye to your friends.

#jj maybank #outer banks #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #outer banks imagine

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raendown · 4 years ago

Link

Todays follower milestone gift fic is for @sparklemagpie with the prompt word importune. Can you tell I had fun writing this one?

Pairing: ShikamaruTemariTayuya Word count: 1966 Rated: T+ Summary: For the two women in his life Shikamaru will do whatever it takes. As long as they're happy he's happy. When they're not...well, when they're not you get situations like this one.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Just The Right Cherry On Top

Shikamaru would have told anyone who asked that it didn’t start off as begging. No one was really asking, though, and the shreds of pride still buried in the back of his mind somewhere told him that was a problem. If no one was asking questions that usually meant they thought they already had the answers. But they didn’t. They really didn’t. When it came to his two girls Shikamaru was smugly aware that he was usually the only one with answers.

Well, answers to questions like ‘are you sure they’re not trying to kill each other’ or usually ‘how can you stand to live between that’. The questions about what might be going on in either woman’s mind were ones he didn’t even try to guess at. He knew when to back away from a problem he would never figure out.

Right now he didn’t so much have a problem as he did have a disaster. He knew very well that relationships took work, that his work would be doubled when he agreed to marry both of the most important women in his life, and since he had not a day went by when he didn’t consider that work so very worth it. For the most part their days were happy. Blissful, even. Shikamaru was as flawed as any other human being but among his flaws pride wasn’t usually the one that tripped him up. Disaster only really happened when pride snuck up on the other two parts of his soul.

Tayuya, as usual, was the first to start throwing insults. And of course Temari, when faced with a hot temper, flared her own with the kind of heat usually accomplished only with the most deadly katon. Standing on the other side of the kitchen with a frying pan in one hand and his face in the other, Shikamaru briefly wondered if there were any missions available that would take him far away until these two crazy goddesses sorted their own shit out.

There weren’t. He checked. Discreetly, of course.

After the first couple days of cold silence it became obvious that this was one of those fights they needed him to bring them back from, when pride and stubbornness and sheer petty spite held both of their lips shut, eyes refusing to meet, tempers refusing to back down. These were the kind of fights that reminded Shikamaru why the three of them really worked as a full unit, one single whole, any weakness in one covered by another. Knowing that never made it any less annoying trying to be the cover to their weakness. They might need him but in those moments they sure didn’t want to need him.

“What’ll it take this time?” Shikamaru could hear the exhaustion in his own voice but that’s just what happened when he hadn’t gotten more than three consecutive hours of sleep for the past week.

“Nothing,” Temari snapped. “Maybe this is just it!”

Drawing a hand down his face spoke louder than words how little he believed that. If he looked really close he could see the lines of aching tiredness in Temari’s expression that told him she didn’t believe it either.

“Right,” he murmured. “I’ll just go talk to her then.

And so he did, though it would be hard to express just how unsurprised he was to get a very similar reaction from Tayuya.

“Fuck that bitch and her high horse!”

“You could if one of you would say sorry,” Shikamaru couldn’t help pointing out.

“Oh no fucking way! Not with a ten foot god damned pole!”

“What if I said please?”

So that was how it started. Or got to the middle, really. Much to the contrary of what other people seemed to think, Shikamaru was not so whipped as to just fall on his knees and beg any time he encountered the slightest of resistance in their relationship. He had some self respect. In the face of these two boneheads, however, self respect was a concept he was more than willing to throw out the window in favor of a full night’s rest, something he would not be getting until their home saw peace again.

One instance of saying please did nothing. Twice did little more than that. Somewhere around the fifteen ‘please’ he switched tactics and added a cherry on top. Tayuya rather harshly reminded him that she hated cherries and described in very colorful detail where he could stick his polite words. Clearly another tactic was needed.

As a smart man Shikamaru very carefully ignored all of Naruto’s well meaning suggestions like sending his wives flowers pretending they were from each other. Maybe that would have worked on someone like Hinata who was determined to look at the world and see the best in everyone but Shikamaru had married two people determined to look at the world through a cold lens of cynicism. Gods but he loved it. Loved the both of them. He just didn’t love the fights. Naruto meant well but the one and only time any of them had seen Hinata truly mad had been the middle of a battle against the reanimated body of a dead man handing Naruto his own ass. It was great for the two of them to finally find happiness. When he thought of their calm and sweet relationship Shikamaru sometimes just couldn’t help but wonder how they didn’t get bored with no one around to throw a plate or two.

Since being nice about it didn’t do much his next step was to try being firm. This time he went to Tayuya first because if he could crack her then honestly he was pretty sure he could crack the whole world. His efforts in this round were about as successful as the first.

“Go ahead and try to tell me what to do one more time, Nara.” Right up in his face Tayuya was all fire, in her hair and in her eyes and in every move of the arm currently jamming in to his chest. “I’ve had just about enough of being ordered around for one lifetime, you hear me?” Oh he did. He did hear her. He also heard the undertone of heat and it wasn’t until an hour after he left their home in the daze of post orgasmic bliss that he realized he’d been had. Maybe Choji was right and he did think with his dick a little too much.

Going to see Temari hadn’t exactly had better results - although he’d known better from the start than to consider either one of them ‘better’ than the other in certain departments. After making it very clear how much she both enjoyed and scorned his attempts to law down some kind of law Temari rode him against the nearest walls and sent him off afterwards with a few choice words about how she really didn’t mind wearing only his marks on her skin from now on. Since he hadn’t been the one to bring that up Shikamaru saw through it right away. They missed each other, a blind man could see that. Getting them to admit it was the hard part.

So that was a bust on trying to put his foot down but if he were honest Shikamaru hadn’t expected any different. The next thing he tried was bribery. After the harsh years both of his wives had experienced it was entirely understandable that they should enjoy being waited on hand and foot. Usually the offer was an irresistible one to them; hence why he didn’t make it very often, a special treat for special occasions when he needed to remind them just how precious they really were. When not just one but both of them turned him down this time Shikamaru had to take a nice long walk through the woods and feed the deer for a while, wondering if maybe the magic offer had lost its touch at last. Or if maybe he was the one that had lost his touch. It took a good long while and three different deer taking curious nibbles of his ponytail before he shook himself and stood up with a little more steel in his spine.

Clearly this problem was running out of control and that meant bringing in the biggest weapon he had at his disposal. One didn’t spend a lifetime best friends with the Yamanaka heir without picking up some tricks.

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please please?”

“I said no, fuck off Shika.”

“Uhhh, please and please and please?”

Tayuya actually stopped walking to round on him with furrowed brows. “You get hit upside the head or something? This is- you’re acting like a damn child!”

“Maybe.” Shikamaru clasped his hands together and lifted his eyes to the clouds above them. “How many times I gotta say please? Cause I will. Give me a number, I’ll do it.”

“For real?”

“Please, please, please, please, plea-”

Ignoring the baffled looks of anyone passing them by was a lot easier than ignoring the sharp voice that spoke from the doorway, rough at the edges under the heavy weight of defeat and sadness.

“He might not look like it, but he’s really just a child in a man’s body.” Temari studiously did not look at her wife when Tayuya whipped around to stare at her, missing the ripple of yearning that went through all those well honed muscles. “You probably shouldn’t test it. He really will just keep going.”

“Sounds annoying as hell,” Tayuya ventured.

Neither of them seemed to notice when Shikamaru fell silent, still, waiting with baited breath.

“It’d probably be less painful if we just give in. He already did that to me for two hours this morning and I don’t know if I can listen to it for much longer without violence that I’m pretty sure I would regret.” The proud set of Temari’s jaw was that of a queen making concessions. The dark warmth of her eyes when they finally canted sideways was that of a wife who missed the touch of her beloved.

“Good fucking god, two hours? Yeah, hell no. I ain’t listening to that. Let’s just get this over with or something then.”

“For the best.”

Despite that agreement it still took about five solid minutes of staring wordlessly in to each others’ eyes before either of them made any more toward the other. In the end they moved at the same time, reaching out with the same hand, laughing in a fondly awkward way as their fingers entwined. The moment would have been utterly beautiful if Shikamaru hadn’t breathed in very deeply just to let it all back out in one great rush.

“Finally,” he muttered. Both of his wives frowned at him.

“Wait.” Temari narrowed her eyes as though only now realizing what she’d done. “How did you do that?” She didn’t seem to appreciate the sheer exasperation filling him up in place of all the soft pleading he’d been wearing for days now.

“You don’t just hang around with Ino for this long without learning how to annoy someone in to giving up.”

Before either of his wives could say anything Shikamaru was spinning on one heel and marching out the door, grumbling under his breath while he rummaged around his flack vest for a pack of smokes. Troublesome women and their troublesome tempers. At times he really did wonder why he put up with it. Two sets of footsteps rushing after him was a good reminder, though he thought he would be well within his rights to make them do a little begging after all the trouble he’d gone through just to bridge the gap between their overinflated prides. Worth it, absolutely worth it, but damn if they weren’t trouble sometimes.

#rae writes #follower milestone #shikatematayu #shikamaru #temari #tayuya

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imjustthemechanic · 4 years ago

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The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding Part 11/? - Just Passing Through Part 12/? - Party of Four Part 13/? - Resolute Part 14/? - The Wreck Part 15/? - Body Snatchers Part 16/? - Out of the Frying Pan

Out of the frying pan, but into the fire would be a worse mistake than Peggy knows.

Part of Peggy’s mind was flying. How had Masters found out about this? Thompson would have let him know when Kay escaped, but wouldn’t have had any idea where they were going because Peggy hadn’t told anyone about the coordinates except Daniel and… well, there was Russel, who could probably guess the significance of them but would not have known that Peggy was planning to actually investigate. She’d only mentioned them to him once. Had Kay left a note? Or was her initial theory correct, and he’d just overheard Jason’s radio message to Stark Industries? What had Jason actually said?

Another part was doing its level best to clamp down on the urge to punch him in the face.

“Agent Carter,” he said. “Fleeing the country upon finding out you’re under investigation doesn’t look good at all.”

“I had every intention of returning, which you would know if you’d asked my landlord or my employer,” Peggy replied.

He was not impressed. “And what’s your explanation for assisting in the escape of a known Soviet agent – again – and attempted theft of US Government property?”

“Don’t insult me,” said Kay. “I escaped by myself.”

Masters glanced at her. “From full-security police lockup under the noses of the entire East Coast SSR and the CIA?”

“What? Like it’s hard?” asked Kay, in a mock ‘dimwit’ voice, wiggling her head and shoulders to cement the implication that any floozy could have done it.

“What government property are you referring to, Mr. Masters?” Peggy asked. She had a feeling she knew the answer, and she didn’t like it a bit.

Masters turned to her again. “You know damn well I’m referring to Captain America and his equipment. The shield is the world’s entire known stock of Vibranium, and his body is the only hope we or anybody else have of recreating Erskine’s serum. And you were about to sell both of them to the Russians!” He looked her over in disgust. “Were you already planning that when he was alive, or is it that now he’s dead his wishes don’t matter anymore?”

This time Peggy very nearly did punch him – she actually raised an arm before she managed to get herself under control, leading Kay to grab her around the shoulders to stop her, and several of the soldiers surrounding them to aim their guns at her face.

“They certainly don’t seem to matter to you,” she said through her teeth, shrugging Kay off of her. “Steve would not have wanted to be an object of study after his death.”

“Captain Rogers wanted us to win the war,” Masters replied. “We’re fighting a new war now and he’s gonna be our key to winning it.” He stepped back. “I want these two put in the brig, Captain Lewis – and don’t take eyes off them for a moment. They’re slippery.”

The man who must’ve been Lewis nodded. “Do it,” he told the men. “And get the Captain straight down to the morgue to thaw out. The scientists are waiting.”

Peggy and Kay were taken unceremoniously by the shoulders and frog-marched inside.

It took a few minutes for the red haze at the edge of Peggy’s vision to fade away and her fists to unclench before she could think about this logically, and when she did, she began to realize she was in very serious trouble indeed. All this time Masters had nothing on her but suspicions and circumstances, but now she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, so to speak. Who would believe her story that she and Howard were just bringing Steve back for burial when they’d been so secretive about the whole thing? Perhaps Kay would testify in her defense… but who would believe her when she was an admitted spy and a murderess?

The soldiers put them in a cell in the brig, far down in the belly of the ship, and left two very large and imposing men to watch over them. Peggy and Kay sat down on the little cot in the cell, and their guards sat down on either side of a small table outside, and dealt themselves a hand of cards. How ironic, Peggy thought with a barely-suppressed sneer.

Kay had said nothing since mocking the SSR’s security out on the deck. She did not look particularly inclined to say anything now. She merely sat looking at her watch.

“Have you anything to say for yourself?” Peggy asked her.

There was no reply. Of course there wasn’t. Kay had never explained anything and there was no reason for her to start now. Instead of trying to talk, Peggy decided to try to think.

What were their options at this point? They could sit here and be taken back to the States for trial – that would most likely end in a guilty verdict and imprisonment, if not hanging, for both of them. They could try to escape. Peggy could probably pick the lock on the door but the guards would see and hear her doing it, and she doubted she could take both of them. Perhaps Kay could take one, but that would just be further evidence that the two were in cahoots. What a silly-sounding word cahoots was. Where on Earth had it come from?

If they did escape, where would they go? They were on a ship. Peggy could not fly a plane or a helicopter, although she wondered whether Kay might be able to. Their only options would be to take a lifeboat or to jump into the water. The former would be easily pursued, and the latter meant death by hypothermia. The same fate Steve himself had suffered… also nicely ironic.

They could try to escape long enough to go get Steve’s body back, but what would they do with it? The options seemed to be destroying it or dumping it overboard. The second was not a good idea – it might still be retrieved. But the former was deeply distasteful. Peggy couldn’t imagine cutting him up or… or burning him? The ship would have huge furnaces to keep the crew warm and provide steam for the propellers. Those would certainly make a fine crematorium… could she bring herself to do it herself?

Maybe she could, if she were desperate enough. At the moment Peggy had nothing to lose… but that still left the question of how to get out of this cell…

“You stupid bitch,” said Kay suddenly.

Peggy’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?” she said. Her companion had said nothing at all for what must have been ten minutes at least, and now was offering insults out of nowhere?

Kay shot a glance at the guards, then glared at Peggy. “You had no plan, did you? Here I thought you were coming out here knowing what you were doing, but you had no idea and now we’re in here!”

Ah. “Why should I have a plan?” Peggy demanded. “I didn’t think we were going to find a bloody thing up here except ice and snow! Did you really think I was taking your word for something so important? How can you be smart enough to escape from Thompson and yet stupid enough to think I would trust you?”

“You didn’t need to trust me! You just needed to have a backup plan!” Kay gave Peggy a shove.

“Don’t you dare touch me, you daft Russian whore!” Peggy shoved her back, and the two of them rolled off the cot to grapple on the floor. Having fought with Dottie more than once, Peggy knew the Russian women were ruthless and skilled, but now Kay wrestled like a child who’d never been in a fight in her life, grabbing and pinching and pulling hair. Peggy did likewise. If this were going where she thought it was going…

“That’s enough, you two!” a male voice announced. Keys jingled. Peggy didn’t dare look up as two pairs of heavy boots approached – the men were going to try to separate her. For an instant she caught Kay’s eye, and saw a smile on the other woman’s face.

Then a pair of hands grabbed Peggy’s shoulders. She wrapped her legs around the man’s boots and twisted – he fell against the cot. Before he could right himself, Peggy was on her feet and grabbed him by the hair to smash his face against the wall repeatedly. By the second impact his nose was bloody, and by the fourth he was limp in her hands. She let him drop and turned around. Kay had gotten a hold of the second man’s tags and twisted them tight around his neck. Peggy was just in time to see him turn blue and pass out.

“Well done,” Peggy said, as the soldier collapsed at Kay’s feet.

“Letting them think you’re stupid and emotional is always your best weapon,” Kay told her, brushing off her hands.

“I have some experience with that myself,” said Peggy. “To the morgue?”

“Obviously.”

They helped themselves to the unconscious soldiers’ guns, and Peggy took the keys off one of their belts and locked the cell door on them.

The ship they were on was a Casablanca-class escort carrier. Peggy had never been on one, but she knew that on large military ships both the brig and the morgue were deep in the interior, far from anywhere the rank and file sailors would normally go. Left to her own devices, it probably wouldn’t have taken her very long to find the one from the other, but she didn’t have to. Kay appeared to know exactly where she was going. She headed down a flight of steps, and then paused in the stairwell, putting an ear to the doors. Peggy crept up next to her.

“How’s he doing?” a male voice asked.

“He’s free of most of the ice,” a woman replied, “but still pretty solid.”

Peggy put her eye to the gap between the two doors. Two doctors in white coats were talking to a brunette nurse, just to the right of a solid door labeled MORGUE. The door was closed and apparently locked.

“We can’t wait too long, or the blood will start to clot,” said the shorter of the doctors.

“We’ll still have the bone marrow,” the first man reassured him. “Can you give me an estimate, Miss Harper?”

“They’re saying at least another hour,” the nurse said, and turned to unlock the door. All three people headed through.

Peggy and Kay exchanged a glance to make sure they were still agreed as to the plan. It seemed they were, so they both burst out of the stairwell and took the trio from behind. Peggy clocked the taller one on the back of the head with the gun she’d taken off her jailer. He dropped to his knees, holding his bleeding scalp. Kay vaulted onto the shorter one’s back and knocked him forward into Miss Harper, spilling both of them onto the floor. Miss Harper tried to scream, but Kay kicked her in the face, and then drove her knee into the second doctor’s jaw. He fell.

Inside the morgue room, two more doctors and three nurses were standing around the gurney where Steve’s body was now lying. They were, for the moment, too shocked by this sudden and violent intrusion to react to it, which gave Peggy and Kay the advantage. Peggy grabbed the nearest equipment tray and hit one of the doctors in the face with it. The first blow appeared to merely stun him and he just stood there blinking at her. She hit him three more times, until he fell. One of the nurses tried to flee, and Peggy pushed the doctor’s body into her.

While Peggy was occupied with that, Kay had shoved the other doctor into the open drawer that had been waiting to receive Steve’s body. She shut it and turned the lock, then she and Peggy both pulled out their guns and trained them on the two nurses still standing. Both women put their hands up.

Kay twitched her chin towards the first two doctors and Miss Harper, all lying on the floor in various states of unconsciousness. “Get them out of the way,” she ordered the nurses.

The women didn’t move.

“We have had a very upsetting day,” Peggy warned them.

Terrified, the nurses went to start rolling the bodies of their co-workers away from the door. Kay kept her eyes and a gun on them, while Peggy took the brakes off the gurney. There was a white drop cloth over the corpse. Peggy knew it would be a terrible idea to look beneath it, but she told herself that after all this trouble they had better make sure they had the right body, and lifted it for a peek.

There he was. They’d cut his uniform off him, leaving him quite naked. Bruises and scrapes he’d gotten on his last mission were still there. Peggy recognized one on his arm where a bullet had grazed him. She’d bandaged that herself, because he’d been too sunken in depression from the death of his friend to do it. And the cut on his cheek, just beneath his left earlobe. She’d kissed that. The memory, buried for three years, was suddenly as fresh as if it had happened moments ago.

She reached to touch the place, and quickly drew her hand back upon finding his skin was wet and still icy cold, feeling more like frozen meat than human tissue. How was he still pink? As he thawed the blood ought to start pooling in his back and buttocks, like it always did on dead bodies. Maybe those parts were still frozen.

“Peggy!” Kay barked. “Is that him?”

Peggy quickly dropped the cloth and wiped her wet fingers on her coat. “It’s him,” she said.

“Follow me,” said Kay.

“Where are we going?” Peggy asked, as she wheeled the gurney out of the room.

Kay led the way up the hall with the longest strides she could take. “The boiler room,” she said.

“Oh, good,” Peggy nodded. Had Kay’s mission perhaps been to either secure Captain America’s body for her own people or, failing that, to see to it the Americans didn’t get a hold of him either? Peggy decided she didn’t care anymore. Whatever the reasons, they were going to do right by Steve, and after that, if Masters wanted to hang her, she would go to the gallows with her head held high.

#fanfic #captain america #agent carter #peggy carter #steve rogers #steggy #fix it fic

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divinewhimsy · 5 years ago

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Ichor Pt 3 (DabixReader)

TW: Blood, Swearing.

I love this crazy psycho more than I probably should.

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Message me if you’d like to be added to the taglist~!

Taglist: @marydragneell @velvet-kissesss

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Part 1: X

Part 2: X

Part 4: X

Enjoy~!

You’re consumed by fire. Blue and brilliant, igniting from every inch of your skin. You’re a beacon in the dark, a sacrifice to your own pyre as you kindle the ground into a sea of flames. They rise around you and into the sky, flickering and lapping at any inch they can devour as they grow higher and higher. You’re the eye of the firestorm, the source and the match to keep it alive.

Wind sweeps it past your vision until it’s nothing but blue. Rain threatens in the darkening sky to dampen your fire. Your eyelids threaten to dip into your vision, to seal you off from the offering you’re displaying as the sky opens up to red droplets of blood. Rusty and murky and metallic. They ink your skin unlike any other liquid you’ve ever experienced.

You’ve bled before. You’ve felt the dried and crusted cells on the outside of your skin. You’re akin to the feeling of them slipping through your veins as you rain down on the world. A gift to the lost, to the dying, to the scared. A blessing on two feet and trembling hands.

But you’re tied to the burning. As your consciousness transitions from the burning figure in the middle of the storm to the one rising above the flames and among the thundering clouds, you feel it. The thick, red thread binding you to both ends of the battle between blood and blue fire. Purple bursts into life as the flames distinguish and reignite with every droplet in the sky. Raining fire down upon the blue to taint it, to change it.

It’s the feeling of falling that jolts you awake as you feel your body start to sail below the earth and through the swirling sea of churning magenta. Is it fire? Is it mist? You lose the sight as soon as your eyes fly open and you’re looking up at the ceiling of your kitchen.

You’re laying flat on the wooden floor, your body sore and taught as you pull yourself up. Your eyes glance over the room and you catch the every creeping darkness of night outside the windows. The pot on the stove sits full of water but cold, the vegetables still sitting on the side of the sink.

Your head throbs painfully and you clench your teeth at the sensation of it trying to peel away. You used entirely too much energy last night. Or was it yesterday? How much time had passed from then to now?

Your eyes catch the clock at three forty seven in the morning before they swim through pain to look at the now empty couch.

Dabi.

Adrenaline rushes past the pain and you surge toward the hallway. He has to be here. He can’t have left. He wouldn’t have, right? If he still doesn’t have his quirk back, why would he leave?

You bump into something warm and solid as you scramble down the hallway.

“Oof!”

Arms fling to the walls to catch the fall before you and the body you ran into crash into the floor. They succeed and you dare a peek as you open your eyes to the figure holding you both up.

“Do you mind?” Dabi huffs and you stumble backwards, bowing low as your face burns.

“I’m so sorry! I thought you had left and I was worried-“

You stop and glance back up at the man in front of you.

Gone is his jacket and shirt, leaving him in just his pants. They’re stitched much like his body as you trace the patterns of burnt skin and staples connecting to his pale patches of healthy skin.

“A picture’ll last longer.” he mumbles and you avert your eyes, your face burning.

“You stayed.” you murmur back. “You’re still here.”

“Why the fuck would I leave?” he snorts and brushes past you, back toward the living room.

“I didn’t see you on the couch…” you turn and watch as he plops himself back down on the aforementioned couch.

“Wishful thinking, huh?” he calls from the living room, his burning blue eyes locking on your form. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“That’s not-“ you sigh and shake your head.

Deciding against getting into this little argument with him, you shuffle toward your room instead. Your body aches with the memory of sleeping on the cold, hard floor. Your limbs are stiff with pain and you stretch to release some of the tension.

The sound of your door closing behind you gives you a moment alone. Away from Dabi, away from the world. A moment where it’s just you and your mind.

You rub your temples and pad over to your dresser. What are you getting yourself into? He’s a no good childish and insincere brute. And you just let him in your home?

You did kidnap him. But was it really considered kidnapping if he had the idea first? That abandoned house from earlier was just as bad- if not worse- than you bringing him here.

You sigh and tug off your dirty clothes. Your pant legs still have his dried blood in the fabric. It’s rusty and brown and acrid and you wince. A good soak would probably help get that out. Or seltzer water and some lemon juice. Fresh lemon juice, judging by the amount that’s stained to the threads.

Threads.

You suck in a breath and cautiously stare at your wrist. The healing scar is still there, pulsating with the puffy red outline. But as you watch and wait for the strings to appear you notice they’ve all turned into one. The multiple tendrils of strings are all intertwined into one larger thread. It pulses with red light and shoots through the middle of the door. You know without looking who it leads to. The only person it could possibly lead to.

Dabi.

But why is it just one? What happened to the others? You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and try to wipe the fear from your mind. It would be easier to just pass it off as your quirk being weird but with everything that’s happened you can’t. He lost his quirk. And it’s somehow your fault. Could it be connected with the large string connecting you two?

You’ve never focused on your quirk being attached to another person so much. Too much time had passed since your last patient was helped and you couldn’t call upon the same connection. Your quirk only lasted so long but as you scramble to remember the time limit you can’t remember if you ever looked into it.

Damn it. This was the price to pay for using your quirk and not actually training with professionals. How much farther along would you be if you had? Probably enough to know why Dabi’s quirk was gone, at least.

You sigh and tuck yourself into your pajamas and then into your bed. Sleep, in your bed and not on the floor, will do you wonders. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even wake up and Dabi’s quirk will be back.

You ignore the doubt that settles in firmly at the thought. It’s unlikely it would be that simple.

By the time you wake up it’s already afternoon. The light shifts through your curtains blindingly, the sun demanding entrance into your room. When your turn away from it your stomach reminds you just how long it’s been since you last ate.

You sigh. You last ate yesterday before you went to that battlefield to help. And all that energy you’d had saved up was used trying to take away your aid from Dabi to get his quirk back.

Shit. Dabi.

You throw yourself out of bed and replace your pajamas with comfy sweats and a simple t-shirt. There wasn’t any chance you’d be going outside today if you could avoid it, so why dress nice just for some random brute you’d kidnapped?

You wince at the thought. You’re going to have to find a different word to use. Kidnapped was just too sinister. You hadn’t really done it, not exactly. You were keeping him here to monitor his health. Like a patient. Yeah.

You shuffle out into the living room and glance around the quiet apartment. Not a hair is out of place- save for Dabi, of course. He’s sleeping soundly on the couch, his entire body sprawled across the cushions messily. Soft snores emit from him and you can’t help but just stare. The man is sleeping so...soundly? Comfortably? You can’t place the word for it but it’s like he hasn’t slept in a long while. Not any real sleep. Nothing that his body needs.

Now that you think about it, he had puked yesterday. And he didn’t eat after that as far as you know. Had he eaten before at all? Before the battle? If he had no energy and then the sudden boost of your quirk than it could be the reason his body is acting strangely. But if that was the case he’d need to eat soon.

Has he always been so thin? Even though you can see the shape of his muscles defined in his torso and arms you still see the hints of his ribs peeking out. He must not eat all that often, then. Or he had a crazy high metabolism.

You shuffle to the kitchen to pick up where you left off with the food. You ditch the pot and instead start with a frying pan for stir fry. It’s a shame you don’t have a Wok but the pan will have to do for now.

As you set about cutting the vegetables and grabbing some chicken from the fridge to add that extra protein you flick your eyes to Dabi. He’s still sleeping soundly, unbothered by the slight noise you’re making. If only he was this quiet when he’s awake. It would save you more than one headache.

You blink as he shifts on the couch, his face twitching through his slumber.

Was he having similar dreams to the one you had? Where you were swallowed by the storm? Where you were both sides of it- although you suspected the blue fire had to be his end of it.

Your eyes trail lazily to where your quirk binds you two. The thread is there just as it is in your own body. Connected to his chest, right where the heart should be.

Maybe he had died… But you wouldn’t have bothered if you knew he was dead. You know you wouldn’t have. You felt the fringes of life in his soul just as you felt your own. As you had felt so many others before. Beyond your blood coming directly from your body, what was different.

You remembered the way he drank from your arm and your face burns at the thought. The feel of his lips as he latched on to your wound and devoured the blood as if it were ambrosia. As if he needed it just as badly as he needed air, if not more than air itself. The press of his smooth lip and the burned skin of his bottom one as they brushed against you.

Your wrist throbs at the memory. You had to push him away, after all. Did he drink too much? Was that even possible?

The knock at your front door pulls your attention from your thoughts and you flinch. You glance at the clock. It’s only four in the evening. Who could be here? What do they want?

You can’t let them see Dabi. You quickly shut the stove off and dash toward the couch as quietly as you can.

“Dabi!” you hiss in his ear and he blinks a lazy eye up at you.

“Hm.” he grunts and turns over.

“You have to move.”

He doesn’t respond and you shake him lightly.

“I need you in my bedroom-“ you barely get to finish as his eyes snap back to yours and a devilish smirk crawls up his lips.

“You want a piece of me that badly, babydoll?” he murmurs silkily and sits up slowly. His hands brush up the outer side of your thighs to your hips and you shove him away, your face bright red.

“No you idiot!” you seethe. “Someone’s at the door. You have to hide.”

The excitement bleeds back to boredom on his face and he sighs.

“Lame.” he grumbles but stands and grabs his jacket, heading for the back of the hallway.

You rush to kick his boots into the closet closest to the door. The person at the door knocks again, more adamantly this time, and you take a deep breath.

You can do this. Just gotta compose yourself. It’s just a random visitor. No one knows you took a criminal in for medical reasons. Or personal. Absolutely no one saw you.

Right?

You open the door with an annoyed huff, doing your best to appear upset to have been interrupted. What you expect to see and what you do are two separate things.

And who you do see surprises you.

It’s your coworker and friend, Lively. She’s a younger girl in her early twenties with dark brown curly hair and violet eyes. She beams up at you softly from her short height and you offer a small smile in return.

“Lively, this is unexpected.” you manage and quirk a brow. “Did you need something?”

You worked at a blood bank- which among the various ridiculous double standards you knew it contained- allowed you to help in even smaller areas of society. Donating blood just makes sense when you over produce it. Working at a blood bank on top of that? Ideal. It helps you get rid of the excess build up if you don’t come across someone who needs help on the off hand AND you get to help others who do need help. Even if the blood is boosted by your quirk you still think it helps. And thus far no one has suspected a thing.

“Hey I just dropped by to give you the schedule for next month.” Lively smiles. “I know you have some time off these next couple of weeks and I wanted to make sure you knew what was coming up.”

“Oh that’s so sweet, thank you.” you smile and take the piece of paper from her. “You could have just texted me this, you know.”

“I know but I couldn’t help stopping by!” she giggles. “I wanted to tell you about the new guy I’ve been seeing. He’s a teacher~!”

Crap. Of course she’d want to gossip and chat.

“Ah, sorry.” you frown. “Do you think maybe you could just call me about it? I’m in the middle of making dinner.”

“Oh? Sure.” her smile falters but she regains it in no time. “Is it a date?” she wiggles her eyebrows.

“No.” you stay sternly, not wanting her to get any ideas. “I have to discuss some pointers of the last proposal I brought to the medical-”

“Oh, boring stuff.” she fakes a yawn and winks. “I’ll leave you to your boring night in. But text me when you’re done!” she steps down your hall and waves off.

“Thank you, Lively!” you call back and shut the door.

You lock it for extra measure and heave a sigh of relief.

The silence deafens your ears as you stand completely still, your heart hammering in your chest. You hated lying. Absolutely, positively hated it. Especially to those you respect and cherish like your friend, Lively. But even she doesn’t know about your quirk and it’s better this way. Even if it hurts now. It’s better to keep her in the dark about your quirk and the villain in your bedroom.

Speaking of Dabi, your face burns at the implication he assumed when he first woke up. What was he thinking?! Why did he just assume you meant it in a sexual way?! You bury your face in your hands and groan. You’re not going to address this. You’re not going to even mention it. You need to keep things as professional between you two as possible. Well, slightly professional. Casual? You cringe as you try and find the right word but come up with nothing.

You close your eyes and turn back toward the kitchen to continue dinner. You’re just about to turn on the burner before you realize that Dabi’s still in your room. Alone. With all your things.

The thought is unsettling enough to make you dash to your room. You slide down the hall and to your bedroom door, your hand hovering over the knob. Sure, he’d shut the door to be discreet if someone actually walked into your home but what was he doing in there? What was he looking at? Or for?

Regardless if he is or isn’t looking he needs to get out of there. Now.

You fling the door open and scan the room for the tall man only to find him sitting at your writing desk. His turquoise eyes are scanning the walls and flickering over the photos and memento’s you’ve put up. He turns to you with a bored look as he yawns and you breathe a sigh of relief. He wasn’t going through your things. At least as far as you can tell. Everything looks to be in the same spot as it was before but you weren’t the neatest person in the world so it’s not easy to tell.

“Did they leave?” Dabi mumbles and rests his head on his fist.

“Uhm, yes.” you swallow and force yourself to keep eye contact, ignoring the fact he doesn’t have a shirt on. “It was a coworker.”

Not that he needed to know who was at the door but you can’t stop yourself from explaining. Especially as he continues to sit in silence. He quirks an eyebrow up at you and you bite the inside of your cheek. Why is he just sitting there and staring at you?

“And?” he presses and you blink.

“And nothing. She just dropped off my schedule for work.” you sigh and step into your room, skirting past him and toward your dresser.

You grab your laundry basket filled with dirty clothes to pretend you came in the room to pick it up. Totally not to make sure he wasn’t snooping. Absolutely not. Actually, why even bother trying to hide it? Your bedroom is your most private space and having a stranger in here is uncomfortable. It’s normal to be anxious and suspicious. Right?

“You should probably clean yourself up.” you mumble and start making your way back to the kitchen. “You can shower while I cook some fried rice. Do you want me to wash your clothes, too? I can’t imagine they’re clean after that battle.”

Dabi stands and follows you out of the room, quiet as you ramble on.

“What? Don’t want your coworker knowing a dirty villain is in your apartment?” he scoffs and you roll your eyes.

“I don’t want anyone to know a dirty villain is in my apartment, actually. Like I told you yesterday, I want my life to go back to normal.”

“And normal is kidnapping then caring for some dangerous stranger?” he chuckles darkly and you feel the heat from his body radiating behind you.

He’s trying to intimidate you. Or fluster you. And you’re not going to let it work.

“Both of us understand our agreement, yes?” you sigh, “I figure out how to get your quirk back and then you leave forever. I wouldn’t say I’m caring for you- that’s not what this is at all. I’m covering basic needs. Making sure you don’t smell like a goddamn barn animal? That’s a must. Food? Food is needed if you want either of us to have the proper amount of energy to get through this. Washing your clothes? Mandatory. I’m not going to let you sully my entire home with your filth. If we’re going to get this done as quickly as possible we’re doing it my way.”

He weighs your words for several long minutes before he brushes past you and toward the bathroom.

“Towels?” he calls over his shoulder, raising a brow.

“Linen closet.” you point to the door across from the bathroom. “What about your clothes?”

He opens it and grabs two towels, his face blending from bored to an amused smirk.

“You really just wanna get me naked, don’t you?” he chuckles and meets your gaze as his hands start to slide to the waistband of his pants.

“Just leave them outside the door!” you squeak and turn away from him- much to his delight as he laughs from the hall.

Dabi’s laugh is unusually delightful. Even though you can recognize the smooth tones of his voice like bourbon on ice, the silky notes caressing your ears with a sultry note, his laugh somehow amplifies the sensation. Goosebumps run down your body and you shiver in front of the washer and dryer.

You try to push past it and ignore the feeling of his voice sliding down through your ears and into your mind but it reverberates like a toll of a bell. Shockwaves of it linger as you stuff clothes into the washer and listen to the sound of the shower turning on down the hall. Once your basket is empty you grab the clothes Dabi left outside of the bathroom door and dump them in with the load. You start it and turn back toward the kitchen, finally getting back to finishing cooking.

The food hadn’t grown too cold but you hate leaving it alone for so long. It won’t taste the best but it’ll be food. The point of it isn’t it’s taste, it's the sustenance. The amount of enjoyment is secondary to its primary goal. Food is energy. Energy means you can work more with your quirk and get Dabi out of your hair.

Yet you still feel the tug of the thread connecting you two. It’s a constant feeling deep in your bones, knotted to the essence of your soul. It’s beyond what you’ve experienced. Sure, you’ve heard about the red thread of fate but that can’t be this, right? It was probably just red because of the blood. That was the central point of your quirk! And blood is red! That’s the only reason those string things connected you two and then turned into one. Probably.

As you finish making food the shower stops in the bathroom. You set two plates filled with fried rice at your kitchen table. You settle into your own and actually enjoy the first few bites before you nearly choke to death.

You made the mistake of looking up as Dabi sat down across from you, water still dripping from his damp hair and down his body. He barely pays attention to you as he glances at the plate of food, his eyes scanning the steam rolling off of it. Your eyes are wide and glued to the steam rolling off of him- the patches of burnt flesh and staples holding him seemingly in one piece. Although you know it's rude to stare you can’t help yourself. Some parts of your brain short circuit and freeze all intelligent thinking.

You don’t know what you expected him to do since you did take his clothes to wash but it wasn’t just to walk out in only a towel. It’s loosely slung on his hips, dipping lower than you’re willing to let your eyes wander. He has another towel draping over his shoulders to catch the brunt of water cascading down from his hair.

You tear your eyes away from him before you get caught staring and focus completely on your food. Only on your food. Plate. Rice. Vegetables. Chicken. Shoveling the food into your mouth. Never once looking up.

No wonder he made a joke about you wanting to get him naked.

If he saw this as an issue before his shower, why didn’t he say anything about it?! You fight off the urge to snap at him for it. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten to you. If he gets even a hint of your flustered state you know you’ll never hear the end of it.

“Thanks for the food.” he grumbles and you dare to meet his gaze with a solemn nod.

You turn your eyes back down to your plate. He totally didn’t have a knowing glint in his eyes. Absolutely not. He’s clueless to this ridiculous miscommunication.

“So,” he sighs as he picks up his utensils, “your quirk.”

Do you two really have to talk about this now? Like, right now? Can’t it wait until later?

“Hm.” you strain to keep your eyes on your plate.

“Anything different today?”

You should tell him about the threads turning into one. But you don’t even fully know what that means just yet. Then again, he could help decipher it. But what if he gets the wrong idea?

“Actually,” you swallow the food in your mouth, “kind of.”

He waits quietly and you dare to glance up to his face. Your eyes catch slightly on his bare chest for a second longer than they should and his smirk lets you know that he caught it.

“Oh?” he pushes, a cocky look capturing his eyes.

“H-how it normally works, I guess, is I have these...Threads connecting me to the recipient. Before I helped you I never actually paid much attention to them. I just let the person go with the boost. But there were these threads that connected you to me and when I tried to take them back we both passed out.”

“Yesterday?”

You nod and push your food around your plate.

“Ye-Yes. Yesterday. When I woke up, though, I found the threads that had been there before turned into one larger piece.”

He tilts his head as you meet his eyes. The cocky look and smirk are long gone, replaced by the neutral bored look that seems to be his norm. His gaze dips to the side as he glances at the couch.

Was he thinking about last night?

You debate telling him about your dream but decide against it. That was a clear message from your subconscious on how you were feeling. It has nothing to do with your quirk and this situation. It’s just a manifestation of your fears and worries.

“I won’t try and take it away.” you burst out before he can say anything.

His gaze flickers back to you, an eyebrow rising on his face. Questioning.

“If it makes us both pass out then it’s not good to take it away.” you murmur. “I won’t do it again.”

“Can you add more?”

Add more? But the only way to do that…

The blood packs in your fridge. You jolt from your chair and hurry toward your fridge, throwing it open and grabbing two packages. Just for good measure. You return to the table and step to his side, extending the bags toward him.

“You’d have to drink more.” you say quietly.

“Why not from the source? That’s what you did last time, right?” he glances from the blood bags to your face.

“That could have been the problem, though.”

“Then why go with that to begin with?” he sighs, “why not just feed me the bags?”

“I didn’t have them.” you seethe. “Drink one.”

“No.” he shakes his head, his eyes never breaking from yours.

Challenging you, he stands from his chair. You keep your gaze glued to his, too determined to let his state of undress bother you.

“Do it.” you push them to his chest. “It could fix your quirk.”

“Or it could make it worse.” he pushes them back toward you.

“If not getting it back is the worst that can happen then what’s so bad?” you push them back toward him.

“I want it the way you gave it originally.” his nostrils flare and you steel your nerves.

He’s taller than you. And stronger. And more experienced in taking what he wants but you have the fact you have to willingly give him your blood on your side. He can’t just take it from you.

He grabs the wrist you fed him from originally and turns it over to see the scar. You try and yank it away from him but it’s no use. He’s got a firm grip on you.

“I’m getting real tired of you ordering me around.” he growls and you squirm to try and tear your arm from his hand.

He pulls it closer to his face.

“We don’t do this your way anymore. We do this my way. Even if that means you’re a sweating mess barely able to remember your own name. Even if I have to bleed you dry. I will do whatever it takes to take back my quirk from every last drop of blood you have.”

“I didn’t- ugh- take it!” you snap and tug uselessly at your arm. “Let me go!”

“No.”

“You can’t take any drop of my blood without it being willing.” you hiss. “Bleeding me dry won’t do anything.”

“It’d kill you.” he says coldly and you freeze.

He wouldn’t.

Right?

“Who knows?” he chuckles darkly, “maybe the moment you fade from this godforsaken planet I’ll get my quirk back in full. Maybe you don’t have to give it willingly. Have you ever experimented with it to know?”

He yanks you to his chest, glowering down at you with fuming fire in his blue eyes. He examines your wrist with a glare as he shoves back your sleeve to reveal your entire arm.

“You don’t have any idea what I do and don’t know about my quirk.” you spit. “I could choose to kill you with it, asshole.”

“Oh, can you? Would you? You’re such a saint, aiding any poor soul bleeding before you. You can’t even stomach the thought of killing someone on purpose. The guilt gnaws at your mind, at your precious little heart. I know you wouldn’t dare. You can’t.”

His body is burning with warmth. His hands on your arm feel like they’re about to burn your flesh down to the bone. Is he trying to summon his quirk? Or trying to roast you alive?

“You’re content to sit idly by and let the world go to shit so long as you get to stay out of everyone’s attention. But that leaves you all alone, doesn’t it? Your coworker was unexpected but she doesn’t normally come to check on you.”

You feel your eyes widen at his words. He’s more perceptive than you have him credit ford

“You jumped at the first sign of anyone at your door. You have few photos of you in groups, you’re not a very outgoing person. Your friends know your solitary lifestyle. How long until someone notices you haven’t said anything? Haven’t reached out? I can break you before anyone even knows you’re in trouble.”

Your heart is racing in your chest, your breath short and panicked as his grip tightens on your arm. You can feel yourself tremble as he speaks. His voice cutting lower and lower until he’s snarling at you, inches from your face.

“Know your place, [Name]. You’re trapped here just as much as I am. Don’t forget I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Your name. You never told him your name.

Your bedroom. He did snoop.

He knows who you are. He knows your name. He knows where you work. He knows your lack of social interactions well enough to deduce you’re mostly a shut in. And worst of all?

He’s absolutely right.

#Dabi #Ichor #blood #dabi x reader #dabixreader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #my hero academia #boko no hero academia #dabi todoroki #dabi is a todoroki #divinewhimsy #swearing

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jawlinedolan · 5 years ago

Text

Sugar Cane Nymph (G.D.)

Sugar cane nymph (G.D.)

disclaimer-> i’m colombian so english is obviously NOT my first language. i’m fluent and generally have non-terrible grammar but I usually just write academic stuff in english. i have only ever written fiction in my mother language before this so please bare with me while i get used to this.

this took a while to write omg it wasn’t supposed to be this long, anyways enjoy and PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE let me know what you guys think about it?💓💓🎊🎊

TELL ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE A PART TWO

summary: Grayson meets his mom’s new neighbor after an unexpected for legged visitor ivades Lisa’s Garden.

word count: +5k

warnings: some minor swearing, a whole buch of flustered grayson and hopefully a bit of humor? also i did not proof-read this sorry

Poor Grayson. For the millionth time that night something was disturbing his peaceful sleep. First the frogs and now his mom chooses this moment to do laundry.He thought half asleep. His hazy mind couldn’t for the life of him imagine any other reason for the incessant rumbling that was currently penetrating the walls of his tiny bedroom. He was mad. All of that crunching and crashing outside had taking him out of his amazing dream.

Oh, and was it an amazing one. So beautiful, just like her. He didn’t even know her name yet her image had managed to plague his every waking moment and now it seemed his slumber too. Not that he minded though, his dream had brought them closer.

He needed his sleep because he needed to wake up early, otherwise he would miss it, miss her. He had discovered her on his first morning run ever since coming back home. He always thought that Jersey had the prettiest countryside in all of North America and now he was sure of it. How could it not be with such a gorgeous nymph galoping around bareback on top her trusty steed. She was out there every morning at exactly 5:50 a.m.

Dammit. When had he became such a sap? Grayson knew he was attractive and he definitely knew how to use it. He had never encountered trouble wooing the ladies before. But this one, oh this one was different. There was something about her, he didn’t even knew her name but he just felt a certain way when he was around her. Well, more like spying behind a particularly dense bush that surrounded the little clearing where she ended her ride every morning. And that he had found on pure coincidence . If you could count trying to conspicuously keep up with a galloping horse for a quarter of mile as coincidence, that is. In his defense he just couldn’t let her get away, it was like she was pulling him without even knowing.

Each morning she would ride up there and he would be waiting behind the bush to watch the show. He could hear it’s powerful hoves before he could devise the big black stallion. Even her horse was different. It had a beautiful shinny black coat that the women at his mom’s beauty salon would envy. It’s mane and tale cascaded down his body in actual curls. Just like hers. He had never seen a horse that didn’t have straight hair.

It was sort of funny, one of the first things he noticed about the mysterious girl was her long and lucious curly hair. And she looked so in sync with the beast. With the dark curls and big brown eyes they almost looked like family.

She was short thing, as he noticed when he saw her stading next to the horse for the first time. He reckoned she would reach to his chest or his shoulders, at best. Her thick thighs hugged the animal’s torso right before she jumped off its back, squatting on her landing which made her delectable ass stretch her jeans. It all looked pretty profesional and innocent, still, he couldn’t help but imagine those beautiful legs wrapping around his waist while his big hads supported that delicious bottom.

Was he seriously getting exited at a half asleep memory or was it just morning wood?

He ignored that thought and kept his eyes closed, continuing with his hazy recollection.

Their conection was amazing, it was just her and her beast. She didn’t use a saddle or tack. She simply spoke to it, like one would another human being, and then she would scratch it’s neck. After that the thousand poud animal did everything she asked. It reared and bowed at her comand and, sometimes, she would let her hair down and they would spin and jump around almost like they were dancing.

No matter how many times he hid behind that bush to watch them, Grayson was in awe at every single thing she did. To him, she was completely mesmerizing.

So mesmerizing, in fact, that he could never bring himself to step out from behind his reliable bush to say hi. She seemed nice enough, surely she wouldn’t think he was some sort of creepy stalker, right? Except, at this point, he kind of was. But his little nymph didn’t need to know that.

Giving up on sleep he decided that if his mom felt the need to do the laundry two days in a row he better find a way of his own of being productive. But upon opening his eyes he was surprised to be greeted by darkness and those stupid frogs chirping outside. He tapped around until his long fingers got a grasp on his cellphone and squinted when the damned thing nearly blinded him with it’s brightness.

Then suddenly the laundry room was shaking again.

“The fuck” he groaned sleepily.

When his eyes finally adjusted to the light emanating from the screen of his Iphone he let out another groan, silently cursing the digital clock that read 4:25 a.m.. His alarm would be ringing in less than an hour for his morning run and he was super tired because some frogs had decided to serenade him until one in the morning. How come they aren’t sleeping yet?

Then there was that rumbling again. But when he realized that his mechanical roommate would be empty of dirty clothes at such unholy hour he began to worry. It’s not like the house was near the street, whatever or whoever was causing all that ruckus had to be in the property. He crept out of his room barefoot trying to be conspicuous and stealthy, even though the cold floor was torturing his toes.

He reached the front door after a quick stop at the kitchen to grab his mother’s big trusty iron frying pan in case he needed to attack. He made a mentan note to not leave everything that could be a potential weapon inside his building shed next time.

After taking a fortifying breath he grabbed the doorknob and turned it as delicately and silently as man his size could manage.

At first glance nothing on the porch seemed out of the ordinary, but when he turned the lights on he noticed it. An overturned plantpot which used to contain an colorful flower that, according to his mom, was an exotic plant that her friend had brought her from her vacation in the caribbean. His mom couldn’t stop talking about her colorful little flower when they showed her her new garden and how she was going to give it a special place in it. And now some rascal had savagely munched on it leaving only the dying stems amongst the dirt.

Suddenly the early morning was eerily silent again. Grayson tried to slow his breathing while straining to hear anything tha would give away the position of the invader. His heart was just about to beat out of his chest, the house was in the middle of nowhere, anything could be out there.

When he finally heard something he couldn’t believe his ears. High pitched and clearly irritated he barely recognized it.

Was that a neigh?

He followed the sound and finally got his answer upon glancing at Lisa’s Garden. The animal that appeared tu be stuck near one of the flower beds looked like a horse, kind of. It had a mane, a tail, four hooves, pointy ears and it was distinctly neighing, everythig pointed that it was a horse. Except for the fact that it couldn’t be any taller than three feet. It seemed he was in presence of a miniature horse.

Quickly running to his building shed he grabbed his diagonal pliers to cut the wire that had most likely trapped his hoof. But when he came back to help the little guy found him with his head deep into the nearest flower pot casually having a 5 a.m. flowery snack.

“Hey! Stop that!” he yelled trying to separate the little beast from it’s colorful victim. “YOU LITTLE FUCKER” Grayson yelled when the animal actually bit him for trying to take away his meal. Weren’t horses suposed to be vegetarian? Well if it liked flowers so much who’s to say it didn’t have other bizarre tastes... like fucking human flesh.

Waking up from all the noise Lisa walked outside to see her 6ft tall 200lb son wrestling a mini horse for a pot of half munched flowers. And she knew their equine visitor very well.

Grayson looked up from his struggle to see his mom walking out of the house with her phone in hand. He looked at her pleadingly and she just chuckled.

“Don’t worry sweetie I called his owners, Emperor’s mom is coming to pick him up as we speak” She told him.

“Wait you actually know where he came from?!” He let go of the animal and marched up to the woman comfortably clad in whool robe and warm slippers while he was out there shirtless and barefoot, hair stuck in every direction, trying to defend their home.

And of course in that moment his beloved brother decided to join in the fun from his bedroom window. Ethan let put a loud snort at his twin’s dishiveled appearance.

“Dude, what happened to you?” he asked in between laughs.

“Shut the fuck up E!” Grayson yelled looking up to his brother. “It could’ve been a murderer or some shit” At that Lisa couldn’t contain herself anymore and let put a loud laugh. She walked towards him with his coat in her hands that she had retrieved while the boys bantered.

“Oh realx sweetie! I don’t think you can die from cuteness overload” She paused while Grayson snatched his coat and glanced at the small black horse. to speak to it in a baby voice. “Ain’t that right Emperor?”

He put on his coat over his otherwise naked torso and and ran his hands through his unruly hair, exasperated. His mom speaking to the little monster briefly reminded him of his beautiful nymph and how her horse actually seemeyto listen, unlike this urchin that had breakfast on his mom’s flowers. He sneered at the animal before speaking.

“So you know the owners, ma?”

“Yeah, they’re sugarcane farmers. Our neighbors up north.”

“Up north? That’s dairy farm?” Grayson replied maliciously. Of course it would be dairy people that would own this mini horse devil. It just made sense.

Lisa just chuckled again at the grave look on Grayson’s face. Ethan just observed carefully from above how Emperor finished a pot of tiny purple flowers and was stretching his little neck trying to reach the next one containing daisies. Or at least he thought that’s what those were, either way it was simply hilarious.

“That’s north of the road, Gray. I’m talking about north of the property, they grow sugarcane organically. ” She explained exitedly.

“Oh... well whoever they are they better come get their poor animal soon.”

“They are already on the way, I just sent Denisse a text” She replied sternly, her sons could be the biggest men-child sometimes. “And even though they’re not vegan, I can assure you they take real good care of their animals.” Since Grayson didn’t seem all that convinced she continued, “Especially their horses, Denisse’s daughter has wall full of horsemanship thophies and first place ribbons, that girl spends hours everyday tending them.”

“Well apparently not enough” He grumbled brooding. “This one is clearly not that educated”

“Oh, Emperor is just a bit... energetic”

Oh hell no. She was actually gonna deffend it.

“ENERGETIC?!” He snapped. “ He ate your exotic flower and destroyed the garden! He’s a monster in a small package!”

“Gray it’s okay. And you’re exaggerating he didn’t destroy anything he just turned a few flower pots.”

“What about you exotic kayacka or whatever it’s called!” He kept on yelling. “HE ANNIHILATE IT”

Grayson was seething at this point. He loved animals and nature, he had gone vegan for God’s sake. But this was just too much, nature had basically trampled him in the last 12 hours. First the god forsaken frogs screaming their slimy little lungs out kept him up half of the night and now this!

This annoying piece of horse flesh had not only awoken him at the fucking asscrack of down, but it had also destroyed the garden he had busted his back to buid for Ma, who was currently laughing at his missery. And as if that wasn’t enough he was more than likely going to miss his secret appointment with his beautiful nymph.

“It’s called a cayena and he didn’t do it intentionally , Gosh, calm down” She pinned him with a stare “And it’s not that big of a deal, there’s more where that one came from I’m sure Denisse wouldn’t mind. Plus her daughter will more than likely begg to help picking up this mess, like I said she always looks out for the horses” She pursed her lips starting to get a annoyed at his irrational fury. “As mother would, she’s always picking up her childs messes”

“Well if she is such a great horse mom, how come her child is a freakin flower eating tornado” Grayson replied grudgingly, feeling like a scolded child for something he didn’t even do. Was he seriously talking about this horse like it was a person?

In the middle of his ire he looked down. Now that the sun was starting to illuminate the early morning he could see it had a kinda nice chesnut color and his beady ayes were staring eagerly at the daisies, that were just a few centimeters out of reach. If it hadn’t been such a nightmare Grayson could almost see himself looking for his allergy pill after petting the cute tiny thing. But it had messed with his garden and managed to get stuck, now he was going to have to ruin the chicken wire to cut him free. So no, Emeperos wasn’t all that cute anymore and after looking at the redish bite mark on his hand he definitely didn’t want to pet it. Lisa’s voice interrupted his musings.

“Listes, go put on you shoes, get yourself some breakfast and try to calm down. Denisse’s daughter shouldn’t be more than a few minutes away, I’ll look after him in the meantime”

“Oh no no, I’m gonna have a word with this chit and she’s gonna fix this immediately.”

Lisa was about to stop Grayson’s angry rambling until she spotted a rider and horse closing in on the house from the north trail.

“I mean, who the hell does she think she is? Letting her animals trample around and how long tilll-“

“Oh my Gosh! I’m so sorry Mrs Dolan I can’t believe he’s done this again.” A female voice rung melodically behind him accompanied by the resounding thudding of heavy hooves on grass. “Emperooor” the voice groaned “ what was it this time?”

Grayson knew that voice, and even if he had never heard her giving soft commands to her intimidating black stallion he would have recognized the feeling she stirred in him. That fluttering on the left side of his chest, the earthquake of butterflies in his stomach, that familiar sense of calmness that only her could bring him.

Lisa´s voice brought him back from his momentary day dream.

“Well son it looks like your wish came true” she said so only he could hear and the raised her voice to greet the girl rapidly approaching them on horseback. “(Y/N) , sweetie, hello!”

Grayson turned around utterly speechless. Astounded by her beauty and awed by the mere sight of her as she dismounted gracefully from the familiar black stud, who was actually saddled this time.

She stepped away from the huge beast and walked towards where they were standing near the garden. With every step closer that she took Grayson felt his lungs closing up on him. What was I supposed to say to her, again? The mini horse, right.

“I’m so sorry Mrs. Dolan. I don't know what to do with him anymore, ever since we moved up here he seems to find new ways to scape stalls and squeeze to fences daily” (Y/N) kept babbling out her sincere apologies while she come to hug the older woman whose garden had been vandalized by her favorite Shetland.

“(Y/N) I’ve told you a hundred times it’s Lisa, and don't worry about it I understand you mother is always telling me how hard you try to keep Emperor in check” She replied glaring slightly at Grayson whose jaw had fallen slightly ajar, she elbowed him discreetly bringing him back from whatever dreamland he was in. “Can't speak for the big man here though, he was a little distressed earlier”

As if he wasn't having a hard enough time (Y/N) shiny browns eyes peered up at him shyly stilling his lungs once again, and a lovely blush spread on her chubby cheeks. He followed the rosy trail with his eyes to the top of her round breasts wondering how far down her body would it reach. And when she spoke softly to him, he was a goner.

“Oh... I’m so sorry, I promise I will fix it up right away” When he didn't reply she added “I'm not as great as Lisa but I’m a pretty decent gardener, I swear its gonna look brand new” Gosh, this was embarrassing. He was so handsome and she has just let her mini-horse ruin his mother's garden.

Lisa’s elbow once again spooked him out of his catatonic state.

“Oh don’t be modest, I bet it’s gonna look better than before. Right, Gray?” Seeing the look in his eyes, she quickly decided that (Y/N) would have a little help fixing her plants. “Sweetie, I know you've made good friends with Cameron but I don't think you've met my sons before”

“No ma’am, I don't think I've had the pleasure” (Y/L) replied in a low voice very unlike herself.

“Okay this is Grayson and that nosy one with his head stuck out the window is his twin brother Ethan” (Y/N) glanced in the direction Lisa was pointing and sure enough there was buzz cut head sticking out the second floor window with a smirk plastered all over his angular face, ready to yell a greeting to his brother’s dream girls. Gray had described her so many times with so much detail that it was scary but it also allowed him to tell right away when he saw the curly haired girl atop the black horse.

“Why good morning Miss Horsey Neighbor (Y/L) it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance” Ethan yelled with a flirty smirk that he knew was sure to infuriate his twin.

“The pleasure is all mine, good sir” (Y/N) replied with a laugh, following along on his joke. Ethan seemed like a funny guy, she could see them becoming friends. The other brother though, they had the same sharp jawline and handsome features, but Grayson’s intense stare was definitely something else. She felt intimidated yet...exited?

Grayson stuck his hand out dumbly trying to get her attention back from his brother.

“I’m distressed and it’s okay, I wasn't Grayson” he vomited his words while trying to produce a smile that ended up looking like a grimace. (Y/L) offered him a blushy smile back none the less.

“It's a pleasure Distressed”

“Huh? Oh, fuck!” Nice job champ let her think you're fucking retarded “ it’s Grayson! I’m Grayson and was not distressed. I was just um...” He trailed off looking to his mom for help bur she merely shrugged “I was uh... worried! For the mini! Poor little guy just wanted a snack and ended up stuck in the chicken wire.”

He stuttered and stumbled trough his explanation but (Y/N), who was usually very perceptive, was still so embarrassed and flustered that she didn't notice he was lying.

“Okay. So, he shouldn’tbe snacking on flowers, anyways, he knows that” (Y/N) mumbled walking towards Emperor who had stopped struggling towards the white daisies and was now waiting for attention from his favorite human. “Alrighty pal, what did you get yourself into” She kneeled on the ground and started inspecting Emperor’s little hoof stuck on the wire. She tried to pull it out but it was too tight, the wire had tu be cut.

Meanwhile Grayson stared amazed at how the little horse devil had turned into horse putty in (Y/N)’s hands. His ears pointed towards and he rubbed his furry neck on her arm looking for scratches. No sign of the Shetland that had rudely attacked him earlier. He looked down at his hand and noticed that the bite mark was barely visible now, maybe Emperor wasn't that bad after all. Maybe.

“It’s too tight if we don't cut the wire he could hurt himself” (Y/N) announced looking up towards Lisa but the taught about it and directed her glance towards her son, who already had a cutting plier in his hand. “Do you think I can borrow that?”

“Yeah, sure, here you go” He was about to hand her the tool when Lisa widened her eyes at him at pointed her chin to the girl crouched con her garden. “Actually, let me do it” He corrected, kneeling down right next to her so that his strong shoulder thighs brushed against her blue jeans. He heard vaguely a big impatient snort behind but paid no mind to de large stallion that stood where (Y/N) had tied his reigns to the garden fence. The thing was so big it could probably pull the fence right off the soil, but instead stood patiently waiting for his master.

“I live in farm y’know I think I can manage a pair of pliers” She replied slightly annoyed that he wouldn't hand her the damned thing.

“Oh, don’t mind him honey he just loves playing with his tools” Lisa pitched in from above them. Grayson prayed nobody noticed his flushed face, but his nymph was deliciously close to him for the first time. Never before he had had the chance of perceiving her intoxicating scent, it was sweet almost like melted sugar right before it turns into caramel.

“I don’t play, ma! I build stuff” He looked up at his mother with a look half annoyed/half pleading. “Besides, I’m sure you're more than capable of cutting some measly chicken wire, I just thought you could keep him calm so that-”

“Oh my God! You're totally right.”

“I am?”

“OF COURSE, he could run around as soon as he's free and continue to dismantle this poor place. Good thinking, Grayson”

Was that even his name she just pronounce? He didn't remember ever sounding so good.

“Yup, yeah. That's it” Yeah I totally wasn't trying to show off for you, nymph.

(Y/N) resumed scratching Emperor with one hand while the other pushed on his neck to give Grayson as much room to cut the wire as possible. Since the kids seemed to be getting along quite nicely Lisa decided to make herself scarce.

“Well guys I’m gonna get inside and make some breakfast” She received two distracted hums and with that she left, not without throwing a pointed glance up at Ethan who immediately stuck his head back inside.

A few minutes later Emperor was a free and happy Shetland. Since he had already eaten, clearly, she decided she could get a head start on the mess the mini had made before riding back home for breakfast. She attached a lead-rope she had brought to the his halter, that he was miraculously still wearing, and tied him to the fence. Grayson just watched her, still kneeling by the dirt bed, she moved so naturally between the mess.

“I’m so sorry, really. For the life of me I have no idea how he came to eat flowers on the first place, I will bring over some seeds later but I’m gonna start cleaning this now, do you have some gardening tools I can borrow?” She was a little breathless after spurting out all of that, she was so nervous now that they were alone.

He got up and dusted his sweatpants.

“Sure, they are in my building shed” He replied puffing out his already beefy chest, his building shed was his pride and joy. “Just let me grab my boots real quick”

“Oh that’s okay I ca-” but he was already running inside.

A few minutes later after running a hand through his hair numerous times to tame his bedhead in front of the living room mirror, they were walking a bit closer than necessary to the shed.

“So, you like building a lot?” At that Grayson put on full display his million dollar smile.

“You could say that” He said looking around the shed for the gardening toolbox.”I build my mom that garden, I mean me and my brother did it but he was more like an.. assistant” Grayson could have swooned when he heard her laughter but instead focused on grabbing the box from the top shelf.

“Are you kidding? I could have sworn that was made by a professional?” She replied, seemingly impressed while they walked back.

“Why thank you, n- (Y/N)” He put the box down next to the first overturned plant pot “I appreciate that” Oh he appreciated it, alright.

“You know, you don't need, it was my horse after all” she sat criss- cross and started rummaging trough the box.

This was it, Grayson needed to pull his shit together if he wanted to make a good first impression on this gorgeous nymph that was eagerly staring up at him, waiting for an answer that his dumbass was unable to produce. With his shaking hands conveniently hidden inside his pockets, he stared confidently into her deep brown eyes and pulled his most charming smile.

And then they got to work. All coquettish smiles, blushing faces and casual hand brushings. They talked about building, horses, video games and even the process of cultivating high quality sugar cane without using pesticides. Grayson was over the moon being the sole focus of her attention, he had waited so long for this. He watched as she pulled away from her face the rebel curls that scaped from her ponytail wishing he could run his hands through the luscious strands and wondering if her round cheeks would be as soft as they looked if he were to touch them with his rough fingertips. He was so immersed in her that didn't realize that their work was done when they picked up the last of Emperors victims, the cayenne on the porch.

Standing on the recently clean porch steps they took a minute to admire their hard work. Or at least for Grayson they were to admire her.

“Well, this is it, thank you so much for you help Gray, you didn't have to” Did she just called him by his nickname? He had to be dreaming.

“It’s okay” he murmured observing how she had to crane her neck up to look at him, she was such a shorty yet when she spoke she appeared larger than life. She was simply amazing. “Time flies when you're having fun” He replied while they started walking towards the horses that were snorting impatiently.

“It was kinda fun, wasn't it?” she untied the big black horse and with one hand she held Emperor’s lead rope while the other pulled on the saddle Horne making for a swift effortless mount. Grayson stood a few steps away looking at the stallion curiously. “You can come closer, Spirit is a perfect gentleman, he likes firm pats like this” He smiled at her demonstration and brought his own much larger right hand to Spirit’s thick neck and let his left one rest cheekily above her knee.

“Spirit” he tested the name on his tongue “Is that his name?” he was looking up at her, for a change, and its was making her breath speed up.

“Well his registered name is actually Indomitable Spirit, my grandma rescued his mom with a poachers arrow on her side” (Y/N) cringed at the memory of the beautiful mare covered in blood “She didn’t have any hoseshoes and her teeth looked like they had never been floated, she was skittish around people... but not as much as the tipycal wild horse. It was like she was scared but she still wanted something from us. Then we realized it was because she was heavily pregnant, it only took us a couple of days to figure out she was close to due date. A month later she gave birth to the most adorable foal with a coat as black as onyx stone” Grayson basked in the glow of her radiant smile remembering how her horse came to this world. And when her face fell, his did too.“It was a difficult labor and she wasn't fully healed yet from her old wounds. The blood loss was fatal, she was too weak to even stand but she pushed through until she was done and the she just closed her eyes and never opened them again. Later on we confirmed she was a mustang so we named him in her honor. You know, most pregnant mares are nightmares, but not her, it was like she knew we would take care of her baby.” She paused at the dreamy look on his face ”Sorry, you probably didn't need the whole pony tale story, I blabber a lot sometimes... a lot of times, actually.”

“No its fine its fine,” he replied hurriedly “I love it, I mean, the story- its quite beautiful,”

“Glad you liked it” She blushed again and Grayson could have pulled her down from the saddle right then and there to cover her cute ass face with kisses, but he contained himself and tried to focus on what she was saying. “Again I’m so sorry about the garden”

“Actually, now I’m looking forward to Emperor’s next great scape if that means i get to hang out with you ” There it was, he had laid out the bait, he could only pray she take it.

“That could very well happen, but I would hate to destroy your garden again” She chuckled nervously

“It would be worth it if I can see you again, soon” The hand on her knee squeezed and his eyes stared hopeful into hers. “Or maybe, we could just grab some vegan ice cream sometime”

“That sounds nice” She started turning her horse around to hide her very obvious blush, but he saw it and it had his heart fluttering and a big cheesy smile appearing on his face.

“Vegan ice-cream it is, then”

#grayson dolan imagine #dolan twins imagine #ethan dolan #grayson dolan #dolan twins #ethan dolan imagine #horselover #miniature horse #shetland pony #mustang #horses #new jersey #contryside

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inkjam-moon · 5 years ago

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Bells Will be Ringing - Part One (M)

This is part of 12 Days of Bangtan!

Summary: What does Namjoon want for Christmas? Something you never imagined he’d ask for. You’re going to need help with this one.

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader x Jimin

Genre: Smut, fluff

Word Count: 5.9k

“What about this one?” You ask, holding up a navy blue blazer that almost seems to sparkle from the iridescent threads sewn into it.

“That could work.” Jimin nods. “I think he’d like it.”

“You think?”

Jimin sighs, shaking his head at you. “Y/N. You’re never going to find something that’s good enough for your standards. He’ll like it. Buy it.”

You huff as you fold the blazer over your arm. “Let’s go home.” Jimin only nods as he follows you to the register and watches as you pay for your purchases, grabbing the bag for you and carrying it out to the car.

It’s only three days until christmas and you’ve never felt less jolly in your life. Shopping for Namjoon has been impossible this year. He hasn’t told you anything that he wants or needs, so you’re left to your own creativity to come up with something amazing, but what can you get for the man that has everything?

Your other boyfriend, Jimin, came along to the mall with you today to offer advice, but he’s not being very helpful. The phrase “yeah that’s fine” has been said much too often today. He seems distracted more than usual, his brow furrowed in thought, almost never hearing you the first time you say something. You can’t help but be a little frustrated with him. He agreed to help you so that you don’t have to worry about your biggest fear at the moment: watching Namjoon’s ears and tail droop on Christmas morning when you don’t get him anything good. Maybe you should’ve asked Jin to come with you; he’s known Namjoon a bit longer, he’d probably know what Namjoon wants, or at least what he needs.

At least you have one thing you know he’ll like. Something he’s wanted for a while now: a collar. You and Jimin picked it out together; he picked the material and you picked out his nametag. It’s a black velvet collar with a gold plated tag, his name engraved beautifully on the front; it even has a bell. At least, you hope he likes it.

“Do you want me to carry the bags in?” Jimin asks as you pull up in front of your house.

“Um. No, I’ll bring them in tomorrow when he’s at work. You know he likes to snoop.”

Jimin simply nods before getting out of the car and you follow close behind. Up the walkway and into the house where you’re immediately greeted by the face you love so much.

“Y/N-ah! Jiminie!” Namjoon cheers, nearly tackling you both to the ground.

“Oof~” You and Jimin are both pushed back by the weight of Namjoon smacking into you. “Joon, we’ve talked about this.” You giggle, pushing him back, watching his tail immediately droop.

“I know, I’m sorry. I just missed you!” He claims, pulling you close and rubbing his cheek against yours, breathing in your scent before moving on to Jimin, pulling him close until Jimin pushes him away.

“Not today hyung.” Jimin mumbles before leaving the room and heading upstairs.

Namjoon’s ears fall flat against his head. “Was it something I did?” He asks, turning back to you.

“No Joonie.” You shake your head, reaching over to scratch his head. “He’s been upset today, but I’m not sure why.”

“Oh. Okay…” Namjoon frowns for just a second before his tail starts wagging again. “So where did you guys go?”

“Some last minute shopping.” You shrug, taking off your boots and coat and putting them away.

“Did you get me anything??” Namjoon questions, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“How can I get you something when you won’t tell me what you want?”

Namjoon snorts with disapproval. “Because you know me well enough to guess?”

“I don’t like guessing.” You remind him, kicking off your shoes and walking upstairs to the living room, flopping down on the couch where Namjoon immediately sits next to you and curls up at your side. You turn on the tv with one hand and scratch his ears mindlessly with the other, watching a movie silently together, but your mind can’t help but wonder what Jimin was upset about all day when suddenly a thought occurs. “Joon?”

“Mm?” He looks up at you from where his head rests in your lap.

“What’s today?”

“Tuesday.”

“No,” You shake your head. “The date.”

“The twenty second?” He double checks his watch. “Yeah, the twenty second. Why?”

“Your heat is soon isn’t it?”

“You think so?”

You nod. Jimin always goes into a sort of funk right before Namjoon’s heats hit. His own hormones fluctuating along with namjoons. If you didn’t know any better you’d swear he’s a dog too. Namjoon counts on his fingers for a moment. “Hm. I guess it is… Damn. Should be the twenty fifth.”

“Aw Joon bug… Do you want to put of presents and dinner until next week?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, sitting up. “I’ll be okay. You don’t have to work around me babe.” He kisses your forehead before stretching. “You still want to order take out tonight?”

“Yeah, go ask Jimin what he wants so I can call it in.”

“Alrighty.”

Namjoon disappears up the second flight of stairs where your bedroom sits. It’s been about twenty minutes before you realize Namjoon has been gone for a long time. Suddenly your phone lights up with a text. You check it to see Namjoon has sent you his and Jimin’s order instead of coming down and telling you. They must be playing a game or something. You shrug, calling in the food and waiting for it to be delivered.

When the food arrives you tip the delivery man and thank him before shutting the door and calling up to the boys. It’s only a few seconds before you feel the thumping of their feet thundering down the stairs. You all sit down at the table and eat while Namjoon tells you about his day at work, working on a song with a new artist his record label just signed. Jimin seems to be in a better mood, they must’ve talked it out.

After dinner the three of you curl up on the couch together and watch tv until it’s time for bed. Thank god you’re all off work for the next few days. You curl up happily in between your boys and are quickly lulled into a sweet sleep.

You’re woken up in the morning two days later by a low growling sound as well as the feeling of something pressing against your most intimate of parts.

“Hyung stop. Joon hyung stop she’s still sleeping.”

“But she smells so good Jiminie…” A deep inhale against the fabric of your panties.

“Hyung no!” You feel Jimin grab Namjoon by the scruff and pull him away. Despite Jimin’s smaller stature, he’s still much stronger than his elder.

“Jiminie-”

“Let her sleep.” Jimin demands, his voice low. You hear Namjoon whine before he sniffs the air.

“Jimin… You smell good too.” There’s a shift on the bed and then a thump before a small whimper, this time, it’s Jimin.

“H-hyung please. A-ah~ N-no you’re going to w-wake her.”

You take this chance to open your eyes and the sight you’re greeted with doesn’t disappoint. Namjoon has Jimin pinned to the bed, using his larger size to his advantage; one hand holding the younger boy’s wrists, the other caressing the light tenting in the front of Jimin's pants as his nose presses against Jimin’s neck.

You can’t help but giggle to yourself as you watch Jimin give in to Namjoon’s advances almost immediately. How were you blessed with not one, but two boyfriends who are sweet to not just you, but to each other as well.

“Good morning.” You whisper, not wanting to disturb them, but they should know that you’re awake.

“Noona-” Jimin whimpers.

“Y/N-ah?” Namjoon stops his assault on Jimin’s neck to turn and face you, his tail raising in the air and wagging just a bit.

“I see the two of you are busy.” You tease.

“Noona he’s been at it all morning. I’ve been trying to get him to calm down but nothing’s working.”

“I think I know one thing that might calm him down.” You smirk, scratching Namjoon behind the ears.

“I didn’t want to do anything while you were still asleep.” Jimin mumbles as Namjoon leans back down and starts to suck on his neck.

“How about I go make us some breakfast, hm?” You suggest. “While the two of you sort this out.”

Jimin sits up, concerned. “Are you sure it’s okay noona?”

“Mm.” You nod as you get up. “But Joonie, don’t wear him out too much, yeah? I don’t want him to sleep all day this time.”

“Of course Y/N-ah.” Namjoon nods, giving you a wink before tackling Jimin back to the bed.

You hum happily as you make your way to the kitchen, shutting the bedroom door behind you. It’s only a matter of seconds before you hear Jimin’s soft moans echoing through the house and it pleases you to know they’re both enjoying themselves.

Namjoon’s rut came a day early, but honestly you should’ve expected it. They always seem to come a little early when he’s excited for something; his birthday, a new song he’s working on, or in this case, Christmas.

You pull out a pan and fry up some rice and eggs for the three of you. You grab some sweet cream filled buns out of the cabinet you’d been saving for Namjoon’s next heat and toast them up as well, pouring out some orange juice and setting the table. You fill the plates a little more than usual, knowing that you’ll all need a little extra energy to keep up with Namjoon’s cycle until lunch; it’s always the worst in the first few days, so you know he’ll want to go at least three more rounds before his second meal and his afternoon nap.

As you take the buns out of the oven, you hear Namjoon’s moans come to a peak, signaling that they should be out soon and you smile to yourself; right on time. Namjoon’s always a bit hasty the first couple times, not really paying attention to anyone but himself, so you’re not surprised when you see Jimin open the door to the bedroom and walk into the kitchen wrapped in a blanket, his hair mussed, his neck covered in bite marks, and his erection still going strong. You can’t help but chuckle at the sight of him, all bent out of shape from not getting to finish, a firm pout painted on his lips, his eyes still the tiniest bit sleepy.

Namjoon, however, looks refreshed in his boxers and t shirt. His cheeks are a bright flushed pink, his hair sticking up in the way it always does in the morning, and a wide smile playing at his lips, his dimples poking through as he takes a seat at the table just as you walk over and set the plate of buns down in front of him.

“Y/N, what’s this?” Namjoon asks, picking up a bun and then immediately dropping it because it’s too hot.

“A treat for my boys.” You can see Namjoon’s tail wagging behind him as he picks up his chopsticks.

“It looks delicious noona.” Jimin nods, offering you a smile as you both turn to see Namjoon already digging in.

You wink at Jimin. “You’ll get your turn Jiminie, I promise.” He blushes profusely before turning to his own meal.

Namjoon finishes his rice first, but takes his time eating the buns, giving you and Jimin a chance to catch up, both of you knowing that Namjoon is the least patient when he’s in heat, and by the way he’s already squirming in his seat, you know he’s ready to go again.

Sure enough, as soon as plates are cleaned and teeth are brushed, you come back out to the kitchen where Namjoon hastily picks you up and seats you on the kitchen table, placing his customary first bite at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, the same place he put Jimin’s.

“Joon, can’t we go to the bedroom?” You laugh, seeing the confused look on Jimin’s face as he walks back into the kitchen behind you.

“Hyung, what are you doing?” Jimin asks, wide eyed.

“I can’t wait anymore.” He growls, pulling down your panties and tossing them aside. “Get over here.”

Jimin hastily does as he’s told, walking over to Namjoon’s side and waiting for further instruction. Namjoon places Jimin between himself and you, yanking the blanket off the younger boy’s shoulders to reveal Jimin’s naked from the waist down, only a large t shirt adorning his body.

Namjoon drops his boxers to the floor and pushes Jimin’s back so he bends at the waist, leaning over you. He wastes no time in entering Jimin’s tight ass thus allowing you to watch as the younger boy’s face contorts in pleasure and pain, the sight causing your core to clench with want.

“H-hyung!” Jimin whimpers as Namjoon grips his hips tightly.

“Fuck…” Namjoon groans, reaching around Jimin and grabbing his throbbing cock, lining it up with your entrance and rubbing it back and forth, making you shiver with pleasure.

“N-noona I’m s-sorry.” Jimin whispers in your ear, already so far gone.

“It’s okay Jiminie, go ahead.” You soothe, holding your breath as you feel him thrust forward tentatively at first before burying himself in your heat with a low groan. “Oh god Jimin…” You gasp as he stretches your walls. He’s bigger than Namjoon, so having him spread you open first thing in the morning is a bit much, but honestly, it feels so good you don’t ask him to slow down.

Once Jimin’s seated inside you, you hear Namjoon growl, Jimin’s cue to start moving. One of Namjoon’s favorite things is to sandwich Jimin in between the two of you and watch him fuck you and himself at the same time. Jimin whimpers as he starts, pulling out of you, only to push himself back on Namjoon’s cock and then pushing back inside you, but apparently, Namjoon isn’t satisfied with Jimin’s sluggish pace as it isn’t long before Namjoon grabs Jimin’s waist and snaps his hips into the younger one.

“Hyung~” Jimin cries, burying his face in your shoulder as his cock twitches inside you.

“You feel good Jiminie? Is hyung making you feel good?” Namjoon pants. Jimin can only nod. “How does your noona feel?”

“T-tight.” Jimin whines.

“Yeah? Is Y/N-ah nice and wet for you?”

“She’s so wet.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Namjoon grunts, snapping his hips into Jimin again before picking up the pace again, fucking into Jimin so hard that the table and Namjoon’s grip on his hips is the only thing keeping Jimin from collapsing.

You feel Namjoon’s hips stutter as he stops, but only long enough to fill up Jimin’s ass with his release before he continues, already needing another go.

“God Jimin you feel so good for me today. So tight.” You hear the harsh smack of Namjoon’s hand against Jimin’s behind, making Jimin whimper against your skin.

“H-hyung…” At this point you can hear just how wet it’s gotten between your boys and honestly the sound is amazing, the wet slaps of Namjoon’s hips against Jimin’s backside only make you clench harder on Jimin. “N-n-noona…”

“Y/N I think he’s close.” Namjoon warns.

“Are you close baby?”You ask Jimin, lifting his head to look at you as you run your fingers through his hair only to see just how far gone he is. Jimin’s eyes are unfocused, his cheeks are flushed, his mouth hanging open and he whines and pants, a bit of drool dripping down his chin; he’s so ethereally gorgeous and fucked out already and it’s only ten in the morning. “He’s almost there Joon.” You agree, leaning forward to plant your lips on Jimin’s to which he responds immediately, slipping his tongue into your mouth as he groans low in his chest.

“Cum for us Chim. Fill her up for me.”

“Hah~” Jimin cries into your mouth, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth before he snaps his own hips into you harshly, his head falling forward as he does it again and against, fucking himself and you throughly and rapidly until Namjoon hits that spot inside him and Jimin’s legs quiver as he moans out loudly and you feel his hot release filling you up, but as soon as he’s done, his legs give out underneath him. Thankfully Namjoon catches him before he can fall and sweeps him up into his arms, popping out of him in the process and allowing Namjoon’s release to drip out of him onto the floor.

“Don’t you dare move.” Namjoon commands, pointing at you before carrying Jimin away into the bedroom.

You huff to yourself as you stay put on the table, shutting your legs and leaning your head back as you wait. A few moments later, you hear Namjoon’s footsteps heading back toward you and he greets your by spreading your legs and plunging his freshly washed self deep inside you.

“Joon~!” You gasp, unable to catch your breath before he starts pounding into you.

“God you are tight today.” He grunts, pulling you to the edge of the table. “No wonder Chim came so fast.” He smirks, pushing up your shirt to roughly fondle your chest, pinching your nipples harshly as he slams into you over and over before leaning down and enveloping one of your nipples with his plush lips and tugging at it with his teeth.

“J-o-o-nie!” You whine in between thrusts.

“Just a few… m-more… almost… there-” Namjoon moans against your skin before burying himself to the hilt and mixing his release with Jimin’s already inside you. He pants harshly, completely still for a moment except for the heaving of his chest before he pulls out and places a kiss on your neck as he whimpers.

“I know Joon, I know baby.” You ruffle his hair as he buries his nose in your neck and inhales deeply.

“Y/N you’re so good to me. Why do you put up with me?”

“Aw Joonie.” You sigh as Namjoon picks you up and carries you back to the bedroom, laying you down next to Jimin, making both of you bounce on the mattress as he jumps on with you. “Because we love you.”

“Do you?”

“Of course we love you hyung.” Jimin chimes in. “Is he pouting again?” You nod as Namjoon lays himself on top of you, nuzzling into your neck. “I have an idea.” Jimin gets up and walks over to the closet, returning a few moments later with a box in his hands.

“Jimin are you sure?” You ask, recognizing the box as the one that holds Namjoon’s new collar.

“It’s Christmas eve. Nothing wrong with getting a present one day early.”

“A present?” Namjoon sits up to look at Jimin, his tail wagging ever so slightly.

“Mhm!” Jimin nods, looking to you for approval before handing the carefully wrapped box to Namjoon.

Namjoon’s eyes light up as he unwraps the box ever so gently, taking a deep breath before lifting the lid. The reaction you hope for and the reaction you receive are on opposite ends of the spectrum. What you wanted most in the world was for Namjoon’s tail to start wagging as he opened it, for him to bounce up and down with joy and excitement, for him to tackle you and Jimin with kisses and thank you’s. But Namjoon just stares down at the box, not making a sound.

You and Jimin both hold your breath as you wait for Namjoon to say something, anything, for him to even move, but he doesn’t, and it’s quiet for a long time until Namjoon finally lifts the collar out of the box and inspects it closer. The bell jingles as the collar moves and Namjoon stares at the nametag, flipping it over in his hands to see the inscription on the back: “Love Jimin and Y/N”.

It’s still deafeningly silent except for the ringing of the bell and soon enough you can’t take it anymore. “Do… Do you not like it?” You choke out, afraid all those times he asked for a collar he was actually joking. Namjoon finally lifts his head to meet your gaze, allowing you to see the tears in his eyes. “Joon…?” Your heart catches in your throat as you reach out to him, immediately concerned that you offended him in some way as you wrap him in your arms, Jimin quickly doing the same when he sees what’s happening. Is it not polite? Is it offensive somehow in hybrid culture? Did you hurt his feelings? “I’m sorry Joon I-”

“Don’t be sorry.” He whispers against your shoulder. “It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”

You feel a weight lifted off your shoulders as Jimin sighs in relief next to you. “So those are happy tears?” Jimin double checks. Namjoon only nods as he pulls the two of you closer.

“Thank you…” After a few minutes he mumbles and pulls back. “Can… Will you help me put it on?”

“Of course.” You nod and take the collar from his hands before gently fastening it around his neck. He immediately scrambles to his feet and rushes over to the mirror on your vanity where he leans down to check his reflection, gingerly touching the collar as he stares at his reflection. You and Jimin look after Namjoon and watch as a warm smile spreads across his face, making your heart hurt from the overwhelming amount of love you feel for these two boys. “Joonie, don’t you ever forget how much I love you. How much I love you both.” You smile, grabbing Jimin’s hand where it rests on your knee.

“We won’t noona.” Jimin nods, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek. Namjoon suddenly perks up and disappears into the closet for a moment, returning a few seconds later with his own box.

“Jimin what did you start? Christmas isn’t until tomorrow.” You laugh as Namjoon walks over and sits on the bed in front of you both.

“I wanted to ask you guys something.” Namjoon states, fidgeting with the box in front of him. “I’ve wanted to for a while I just… I never knew how.”

“Hyung, what is it?” Jimin asks, tilting his head in question.

“Open it.” Namjoon pushes the box toward you. You look over at Jimin and shrug before you both pull at the wrapping paper and you take the lid off the box.

“J-Joon…” You gasp as you eye the contents. Inside the box is an assortment of toys; several variations and sizes of butt plugs, two different strap ons, and several bottles of lube.

“Hyung, what…?” Jimin picks up one of the plugs. “You didn’t have to get me any, I already have some. You know that.”

Namjoon takes a deep breath. “T-they’re not for you.”

Jimin looks confused before a moment until he sees a strap on and his eyes go wide. “This… This is what you meant when you asked me?” Namjoon nods.

“Asked you what?” You inquire.

“A few months back, after hyung’s last heat, he started asking me how I knew I liked being the bottom and what it was like and how I started and things like that.” Jimin explains. “Hyung, you could’ve just asked. I would’ve helped you pick things out if you wanted.”

Namjoon blushes. “I-I was too nervous. I still…” Namjoon sighs and looks at his lap.

“Joon, you don’t have to be nervous. You know you can ask us anything.” You assure him.

“I just… I don’t know. I see how much Jimin likes it and I… I want to try. If you guys are okay with it.”

“I’m okay with it if you are baby.” You assure him.

“Me too.” Jimin nods. “I’d love to help.”

“We’ve never gotten to see Chim’s dominant side.” You add, making Namjoon’s eyes go wide as he looks towards Jimin’s lap, probably terrified of his girth. Jimin sees this and laughs.

“We’ll start with something small hyung, don’t worry. Fingers are the best starters.”

Namjoon sighs with what sounds like relief before placing the box of toys on the floor and curling up at your side, pulling both you and Jimin as close as he can before he falls asleep, and having already spent so much energy, you and Jimin are quick to follow suit.

You wake up and hour or two later, wrapped in someone’s arms to the smell of someone cooking. You sit up and see Namjoon laying next you on his phone just as Jimin walks through the door with a tray of food.

“Good, you’re up!” Jimin smiles when he sees you both awake. “I made lunch.” He brings the tray over to the bed and sets it down, handing you both plates full of meat and rice, the smell of which has your mouth watering.

The three of you dig in and eat rather quickly, watching tv and chatting as you do and when you’re finished, Jimin takes the dishes back out to the kitchen and returns after washing them.

“Okay. Noona, if it’s alright, hyung and I are going to take a quick shower to uh… prepare.”

“Okay.” You nod as you stretch. “That’s fine.”

“Great.” Jimin smiles and grabs Namjoon’s hand, tugging him up off the bed and into the bathroom asking Jimin why the whole time and just before they shut the door you hear “Don’t you want to look pretty for noona?”.

You relax as they shower, taking a few tissues and cleaning up the remnants between your legs from this morning before slipping on some clean underwear and laying back to watch tv. After about fifteen minutes, you hear the shower turn off and a few moments later, the door opens and the boys come out in towels in the process of Jimin fastening Namjoon’s collar back around his neck, the bell jingling as he does before he shakes himself like always.

Namjoon looks a bit more red in the face than he usually does after a shower and you can’t help but giggle at the thought of what went on in there. They both slip on boxers and Namjoon grabs a shirt before climbing back into bed, whereas Jimin is squatting on the floor next to you, rifling through Namjoon’s box until he locates what he was looking for; a bottle of lube.

“Hyung lay down for me.” Jimin orders as he climbs onto the bed. Namjoon visibly gulps, his ears laying a little flatter, before doing as he’s told, laying down next to you. “Noona, you can help with the foreplay while I get him prepped.” Namjoon whines next to you and you place your hand on his chest, rubbing small circles on it to soothe him. “Hyung don’t worry.” Jimin coos. “We’ll go slow, I promise.” Jimin places the lube on the bed beside him before sitting up on his knees and leaning over Namjoon. “Just be a good boy for me.”

Jimin winks before leaning down and pressing his lips to Namjoon. You watch as Namjoon immediately tries to take control, but Jimin quickly uses his strength to pin Namjoon’s wrists to the bed before biting down harshly on the elder boy’s neck in a surprising show of dominance, causing Namjoon to whimper, his ears flattening in submission.

You take this as your cue, getting up on your knees and sliding Namjoon’s shirt up, placing hot kisses along Namjoon’s chest until you reach one of his sensitive nipples and wrap your lips around it, tugging on it with your teeth and causing the first moan to leave Namjoon’s lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see a tenting start to form in Namjoon’s boxers and smile to yourself, happy you can still get him worked up so easily.

You hear Namjoon and Jimin’s kiss break above you and feel the bed shift as Jimin moves down Namjoon’s body, his hands tugging down Namjoon’s boxers and tossing them aside before he grips Namjoon’s already dripping length. As he strokes Namjoon, you move up to press your lips against Namjoon’s, gasping when he wastes no time slipping his tongue into your mouth.

As you kiss, small moans leave Namjoon’s lips as Jimin plays with his cock, but your kiss stops completely when Jimin wraps his plump lips around his elder’s length and Namjoon whines, sitting up to watch himself disappear into Jimin’s mouth.

“Oh god…” Namjoon groans, throwing his head back as you tweak his nipples, pressing hot kisses to his throat until Namjoon whimpers. You look up to see Jimin has moved lower, sucking Namjoon’s balls into his mouth before continuing on his path, his head dipping lower, causing the elder boy to try and close his legs, but Jimin stops him.

“Just relax for me hyung.” Jimin soothes before lifting Namjoon’s legs and pushing them back towards his chest, revealing his lower half to Jimin. You give Namjoon one last kiss before sitting up and moving down to help Jimin, your eyes going wide to see what they did in the shower. Namjoon is now completely shaved and clean.

“Wow.” Is all you manage to say, not having expected this.

“D-don’t s-stare…” Namjoon mumbles.

“Isn’t he pretty noona?” Jimin encourages.

“So pretty.” You agree, reaching out to squeeze Namjoon’s cock, making him whine loudly.

You watch as Jimin leans back down, his tongue deftly flicking out against Namjoon’s perineum before his lips begin to suck on it, making Namjoon squirm. Jimin’s head moves lower and his tongue flicks against Namjoon’s asshole for the first time, making the older boy whimper.

Jimin takes the noise as encouragement and begins eating Namjoon’s ass with fervor, his tongue and lips hard at work as he slurps and kisses and sucks at Namjoon’s puckered rim. Namjoon shivers at Jimin’s touch, his length twitching in your hand as he grips the sheets beneath him.

When Jimin’s tongue finally slips inside Namjoon, the older boy moans loudly at the unfamiliar sensation.

“Jimin please…” Namjoon whines.

“Mmm hyung you’re so sweet.” Jimin teases, brushing the pad of his thumb against Namjoon. “Are you ready?”

“Yes…” Namjoon pants, his face flushed a beautiful pink color.

Jimin hums in understanding as he grabs the bottle of lube and squirts a generous amount onto his fingers, brushing it against Namjoon’s entrance to make sure he’s nice and wet.

“Remember hyung, just relax for me, okay?” Namjoon nods and you hold your breath as you watch Jimin begin. He tentatively prods at Namjoon’s entrance, slipping just the tip of his finger in before inching in a little more each time before finally he slides his whole finger deep inside, making Namjoon groan low in his chest, his cock dribbling on your hand.

Jimin holds his finger there for a moment, wiggling it around before pulling it out and pushing it in again, repeating this over and over as Namjoon breathes deeply, his eyes scrunched shut. After a minute or so, Jimin pulls his finger out and lines up a second one, rubbing the inside of Namjoon’s thigh with his free hand before carefully pushing both of them inside Namjoon’s entrance, making the elder boy cry out and start panting harshly. Namjoon winces and you stroke him slower to help take his mind off of it as Jimin slowly works his fingers inside until they’re as deep as they’ll go.

“Is that okay hyung?” Jimin asks.

“Uh huh~” Namjoon nods, breathless.

“Good. You’re doing so well Joonie.” Jimin encourages. “So good.”

Namjoon smiles as he reaches out and grabs your ass, surprising you. “Y/N-ah you smell so good.” He whines. Do you? You’ve been so focused on Namjoon that you didn’t pay attention to just how turned on all of this has made you, but as you rub your thighs together, you realize that you’re soaked.

“I’m sorry Joon.” You giggle. “I didn’t realize.”

Namjoon yanks down your underwear and pulls at your hips. “Come here.” He orders.

“Joon I’m okay.”

“No, I want to. Please?”

Well, how can you say no to that? You take off your panties the rest of the way before straddling Namjoon’s face. He immediately pulls you down against him and buries his tongue in your folds, making you curse under your breath as you lean down and wrap your hand back around his cock, stroking him slowly as you watch Jimin’s fingers slip in and out.

When Jimin slips a third finger in, Namjoon plunges two of his own fingers deep into your core, making you moan loudly and squeeze Namjoon’s cock. Just then, Jimin flicks his wrist and Namjoon squeaks against you, his nails digging into your waist as his hips thrust up into your hand.

“Fuck~!” He whimpers, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. “What was that?” He asks, peeking around you to look at Jimin.

Jimin smirks. “That was your prostate. The male g-spot.”

“If you do that again I’m gonna cum…” Namjoon admits.

“Good.” Jimin states before starting to move his fingers again. You go back to stroking Namjoon’s cock, but it isn’t long before Jimin flicks his wrist again, and again, and again, until Namjoon cries out and his length throbs before his orgasm starts, his cock release hot, thick lines of his white release all over your hand and his lower abdomen. Jimin flicks his wrist one more time, making Namjoon yelp before he pulls his fingers out. You stroke Namjoon through his orgasm until he shudders beneath you and you release him.

You try to get off Namjoon, but he holds you tight, slipping his tongue back between your folds and doing the one thing he knows gets you off the fastest; he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard.

“J-Joon… Joon- Joon~!” You cry, your legs shaking as your own orgasm hits you, rolling off of Namjoon to get away from his overstimulating touch.

Jimin sits up on his knees, smiling down at the two of you as you both lay panting before grabbing some tissues and cleaning the mess off of Namjoon’s lower abdomen and then swiping up between his legs, tossing the tissues in the trash and then laying down on the other side of Namjoon.

“You did so well Joonie.” He coos, brushing Namjoon’s hair out of his face.

Namjoon smiles as you place a kiss on his cheek. “I agree. You were such a good boy.” You can feel Namjoon’s tail wag next to you on the bed. “Are you gonna take a nap baby?”

Namjoon nods, already yawning. “Mhm. Wake me up for dinner?”

“Of course.” You give him one last kiss before locating your discarded underwear, slipping them on, and then heading out to the living room with Jimin following close behind.

The two of you sit snuggled up on the couch, just enjoying each other’s company until it’s time to make dinner. The two of you head to the kitchen and are about to start cooking when you hear the light jingling of a bell.

“He’s up.” Jimin states.

“Do you think he’ll let us make dinner first?” You ask.

“Y/N! Chim!” Namjoon whines from the bedroom.

Jimin chuckles. “I’m going to say no.”

You smile and turn the oven back off, ready for the next round as you head back to the bedroom with Jimin.

363 notes · View notes

royallyprincesslilly · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Partners {6}***

OA Zidan/Zeeko Zaki x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Fluff, Angst, Talk of Sex Trafficking, Plot, NSFW, SMUT,

ALL STARS on The NSFW Meter, DO NOT READ AT WORK

Words: 7k

Note: This is a first for me writing about a TV show and interjecting into it. Let’s see how this goes. I hope you guys enjoy this. As always, thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed this please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

~~~~~~~~~~~

His hand gripped the nape of your neck and squeezed. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt you, but it was just enough for you to clench around him as a new gush of wetness eased his glide. Every time OA’s hips slapped against your ass, his grip would tighten then loosen as he retreated to repeat the action again and again. He knew what he was doing. This new status of your relationship was new, but he’d been paying attention to every single cue your body gave to tell him what you liked, didn’t like, and what drove you insane. When he slammed forward and rotated his hips, your reflex was to lurch forward away from him.

“Fuck,” you forcefully whispered.

“Did I hurt you?” His voice was filled with concern as he began to pull out. Gripping around him, you kept him where he was.

“No, just--.”

OA bent over your back, pressing his chest onto you before he kissed your ear.

“Can’t take it?”

His voice was so damn deep and seductive. Your belly did backflips as you turned your face to the side to look at him.

“You tell me. I thought I was taking it very well,” you countered. OA’s smile was wide before he pressed his lips to yours to passionately kiss you. Just as t, you were getting into it, he pulled his lips from you and kissed a trail down your spine.

Deciding to tease him, you winded your hips against him, eliciting a satisfied “ah” from him. Peeping back at him, he had his head dropped back with his eyes closed, enjoying the sensations your movement gave him. Slowly you began to move back and forth. You knew he was close. You’d paid close attention to the cues his body gave too. The veins bulging in his neck said he was really close. You sped up and forcefully crashed your ass onto him. It quickly turned into you chasing your release while trying to please him.

OA’s grip on your hips tightened, and you knew what was coming. He quickly pumped into you, sending goosebumps across your skin. Your moans got louder, and soon, you were calling his name louder and louder until your release took over. OA groaned and slammed into you with four staggered thrusts. That was when your knees gave out. OA dropped back onto the bed, taking you with him to cuddle up to your back.

“To think we almost missed out on this,” OA said before he kissed your shoulder blade.

You let his words sink in as you snuggled closer. You couldn’t get close enough.

“Was there a time when you almost--,” you paused, trying to find the word.

“Pushed you into an office or an alley and kissed you?”

You snorted. “I guess.”

“There were a few times. Do you remember the hostage case? We got the perp in integration, and you took the lead, I remember watching in the other room and the way you got into his head and flipped every single notion he had and reason he had to protect the other guy had my jaw dropped. Then when he sang like a canary, I couldn’t believe it. I went in after they’d taken him, and I was so close,” OA confessed.

“What stopped you?”

“The cameras.”

You busted out laughing with him joining in. Slowly it dawned on you what your reality was, and you got silent.

“Are you thinking about it?”

“About what?”

“You know what,” OA pressed as he kissed your neck.

He smelled so good you doubted you’d ever want to be too far from him. Even that thought had you rolling your eyes.

“Thinking about the fact that this is against every rule? Or thinking about the fact that if anyone finds out about this, then there will be consequences? Or thinking about--.”

OA rolled on top of you and pressed your hands above your head, stopping your words.

“I don’t care about the rules or the consequences.”

You didn’t know how he could even say that. He’d worked his ass off to get where he was today. He’d put up with an incredible amount of shit to be the agent he was. How could he be so ready for it to be for nothing? The way he stared at you said he saw the panic in you. Biting your bottom lip, you pushed against his hands, finding little to no resistance. You cupped his bearded jaw and brought his head to you and kissed him.

You got enveloped in the kiss and rolled onto him. You decided to focus on here and now with him. You wanted to enjoy him fully without any nagging thoughts of what reality held for you come Monday morning or even beyond. Neither of you was going to put voice to the things you knew about the dangers of you getting entangled.

You awoke to the soft sound of a sitar and the aroma of cinnamon, nutmeg, cardamom, and other spices that screamed comfort. As you stretched, you noted how sore your muscles were. You climbed out of bed and threw on your robe then walked toward the music. You had no idea what time it was, but it was still light outside. When you rounded the corner, there was OA in your kitchen in nothing but his boxer-briefs cooking up a storm.

It was a beautiful sight, one you were not accustomed to. He was the first man to grace your apartment, let alone your kitchen and bed. Slowly you let your eyes drink in every inch of his beautiful skin. He was perfect. You got lost in your thoughts and gawking over him that you didn’t realize he’d turned around and was doing some gawking of his own. OA cleared his throat loudly, bringing your eyes to his.

“Yeah, you’ve been caught.”

Embarrassment filled you as you covered your face. “No, don’t hide. Own what a pervert you are.”

You laughed loudly, then glared at him.

“Come on, the price for voyeurism is a dance.”

“Oh no, I can’t dance to this,” you protested.

“Lies. Remember when we all went to that Egyptian place, and everyone had a turn with dancing?”

You slapped yourself in the head because you did remember. You had the guts to get up and dance that night.

“You held your own. I remember those moves. Come on,” OA coaxed.

Rolling your eyes because you knew he would never let it go, you walked to him and took his outstretched hands then began moving your hips to the beat the best you could. As soon as you found your rhythm, the music picked up, and OA was leading you around the kitchen in a traditional and modern mix of an Egyptian dance. In no time, you got into it and tapped into your inner belly dancer. When OA pulled up behind you, you rolled your hips then circled them before you jerked them to the beat. The two of you dance around the kitchen together, having a great time. The song was a really good one; you couldn’t lie.

By the end of it, you and OA were laughing together while he hugged you to him.

“See, you’d fit right in. my aunts would love you.”

That sounded serious. Your eyes met, and both of you realized it then. He kissed your nose, then your forehead enhancing the intensity of the moment.

“It smells incredible. What’re you making?”

“Mm, lunch, kofta, or meat on a stick it’s a beef kabab, a red lentil soup, and Aish Baladi, which is a flatbread,” OA listed.

“Wow. You cooked all of this?”

“Yes. I can cook.”

“Wow. I had no idea. I thought in your culture it was all about finding a beautiful wife who could make all of this for you,” you teased. His adorable dimples broke out.

“Yeah. If you ask my umi, then yes, that is what a textbook good wife would be able to do. If you ask me, though, I’d like to spoil my woman.” He kissed your cheek and carried a trail to your neck.

“Oh, I bet you would.” a giggle escaped you as he nibbled your skin.

“Come on, gorgeous, let me feed you,” OA said as he walked away but not before he dropped a slap to your ass.

He gathered plates and utensils as you pried even more into the pots curiosity getting the better of you. When OA realized it, he ushered you away from the pots and put the dishes in your hands, prompting you to set the table that was in the kitchen by the window. For the next few minutes, you worked in silence, him finishing the details on lunch and you making the table presentable. It all felt so domestic and normal like it wasn’t strange that the two of you had just fallen into this situation. It felt like you’d been doing this the entire year.

OA served you filling your plate with kofta and Aish Baladi before he filled your soup bowl with lentil soup. The scents melded together so nicely that you could not wait to taste his handiwork.

“I’m so hungry.”

“I bet. What else do you expect after having sex on every inch of this place?”

Your jaw dropped at the call out. “It takes two to tango, thank you very much,” you countered. OA smiled widely. When he sat, you went for your utensils but stopped.

“We say prayer right?”

OA smiled, showcasing those enviable dimples again. “Ideally.”

“Okay, come on. Show me.”

You watched what he did and mirrored him exactly. With his hands held out palms up, he closed his eyes and said a quick prayer in Arabic that you did your best to repeat the look on his face said he was impressed. Once he was finished, you waited for him to continue. The way he looked at you had you ready to blush.

“After you,” he insisted. You took up your kofta and bit into it, moaning as the spices hit your taste buds.

“My goodness, this is really good.”

“My mother’s recipe.”

The two of you ate and joked together like you’d done this every since day since you’d met. He told you more about his family, which included his headstrong sisters, who he worried most about constantly. As he spoke about them, you could see how much he loved them and his entire family. Your mother told you that if you were going to settle down with anyone, make sure they loved their family above everything else. It was clear he loved them this much. He asked about your family, and you told him, finding it easier to open up to him now than it had been any time before.

It was as if you thought if he didn’t know too much about you, it would keep him at a distance. Like the line would somehow be crossed if you told him about your childhood and your friends back in Miami. It was ridiculous thinking about it now, especially since you’d jumped over that line in a way that could not be ignored. You liked this side of him. He looked perfect, sitting shirtless, eating his childhood favorites, and talking about the things that made him happy. Listening to him made you happy.

When both of you’d stuffed your bellies to damn near capacity, you found yourselves in the bathtub making out like a couple of horny teenagers who’d just discovered sex. When kissing got too hot, and both of you became too flustered, OA would showcase just how good he was with his hands. He massaged every inch of you, dissolving every knot in your body. With your back to his chest and you seated between his legs, he kissed your skin and whispered nothing but the sweetest words that a girl could easily get used to.

After a bath, you sat in the living room with the intention of watching something on TV. Those intentions quickly changed. Neither of you could keep your hands off of each other. Neither of you could go longer than five minutes without giggling or making some form of contact, whether it being eye, or physical. You felt like a schoolgirl who was head over heels with the popular guy in school that was showing her she meant the world to him.

For the tenth time you tried to focus on the TV and not his scent that refused to stay on his side of the couch or the sight of his colossal thighs spread next to you. his lap looked like the perfect seat and his face like the only throne you’d ever need.

“Fuck it,” OA grunted before he pounced you, to your delight.

In seconds you both were naked yet again with your arms wrapped around his neck, and his lips fastened to yours. He kissed you with meaning like you were the beginning and the end for him. You matched him emotion for emotion, desperation for desperation. You were practically obsessed with the way he tasted, and it hadn’t even been seventy-two hours yet. As he kissed you, your hand slowly trailed down his chest and torso, pressing every slope and dip to memory. If temptation and hedonism were a person, he would be it. In a matter of minutes, OA was nestled snugly in your heat, completely filling and stretching you.

His slow and deep thrusts brought goosebumps to your skin and sucked the oxygen right out of your lungs. The soft music in the background set the perfect tone for the sultry transference you were engaged in.

“I don’t think I can ever get enough of you,” OA groaned out as he thrust into you at the most torturous speed. You felt every single inch of him as he stretched you.

“Ever?”

“Ever. Uuugh, jeez!” OA rotated his hips, making you moan loudly as your back arched off the couch.

“Mmm, you drive me crazy, you know that,” OA panted before thrusting forward again stroking that part of you that instantly sparked your body to come alive in a hyperactive state of arousal, making you again arch your back. You reached out needing to touch him in some way, but with one of his hands, OA grabbed yours and pinned them to the back of the couch, trapping you.

You didn’t know how it was possible, but that one action made you want him even more than you already did. His thrust stayed at the same pace. He languidly stroked into you softly, commanding your body to do whatever he wanted. If he wanted it to overheat, all he had to do was rotate his hips to touch spots in you that you didn’t even know you had. If he wanted to steal your breath and have your soul leave your body, all he had to do was fill you to the hilt. The man knew what he was doing, and it showed in everything he did. His kisses were not kisses of an amateur. They were kisses of a grown man, a man who knew how to listen to and follow the cues of a woman’s body.

Every time you tried to move from his grip, OA stopped and waited for you to settle down. When you refused, you’d stare into his eyes, trying to convince him to let you go or speed up, but OA was in no mood to listen. His one goal seemed to be to drive you insane. OA stared down at you with his bottom lip hooked in his mouth and intense eyes penetrating you so profoundly you were sure he could see the contents of your soul. He retreated, leaving just a just the tip of his intrusion. You bucked against him, trying to get the friction you needed.

OA used his free hand to hold your waist, stopping your feeble attempts to use his body for your own pleasure, then stroke full speed ahead, sending your breasts jerking. Your gasp was loud, and the clench around him tight, so tight his groan was long. Using his weakened state against him, you pushed him to the side, flipping him to the couch. Before he regained control, you straddled, putting him right where you wanted him. You pressed your hands on his chest for brace as your body rolled through the pleasure.

“Not so strong now, huh?”

OA smiled through his pleasure, then licked his lips, tempting you more. “You found my weakness and took advantage,” he teased.

“And what weakness is that Special Agent Zidan?” You slowly rolled your hips and fought the urge to moan. He felt so good.

OA’s hands gently gripped your waist when you began taking control of his pleasure. What began as slow rolls of your hips turned into energetic circles that had no reason to them but to make him shout your name. Every so often, you slowed it down, never allowing him to predict your next move. With every roll and buck of your hips, OA’s jaw dropped more and more while his eyes rolled back further and further.

When you began bouncing on him, his curses began, but they remain strangled in his throat.

“I can’t hear you,” you teased, speeding up your bounce. Every time you dropped back onto him, you forcefully did it hard enough that a shiver rushed through you. OA’s hands moved from your waist to your hips to hold you. As soon as they squeezed, you stopped.

“Uugh, please don’t stop.”

“Keep your hands on the back of that couch, or I will leave you to finish this yourself,” you warned.

The look in his eyes screamed defiance, while the smirk on his lips said he liked this side of you. As he bit his bottom lip, he slowly removed his hands to grip the back of the couch. The way the cushion sunk underneath the pressure of his hand said he was holding it dangerously tight, showing you just how close he was to flipping you back over to show you just who was stronger.

OA slid his body a little lower, so his back was angled and neck tilted downward.

“Such a good boy,” you coaxed with a cocky smile as you began to bounce on him again only this time, starting from the beginning with slow teasing swirls of your hips. After circles, you rolled them in a figure eight; after that, you combined the two until you gradually sped up.

You loved the sounds he made. He was not shy about letting you know just how good you were making him feel. Every change you made, his back arched. Every time you clenched around him, his grip tightened, sending all the veins in his arms bulging.

“What is your weakness, Omar?”

The clench in his jaw said he liked the way you said his name. In truth, you liked the way it felt. Swirling your hips against him, you expected him to cave—he did not.

“Won’t tell me?”

OA bit his bottom lip and dropped his head back, giving you perfect access to his neck. Hovering over his chest, you licked across his Adam’s apple along his skin, collecting the droplets of sweat that littered his skin. Once at his neck, you bit the flesh and sucked it into your mouth. OA groaned again before he brought his head back down to capture your lips and claim them as his. From the beginning, the kiss was erotic and blazing hot. Your tongues danced together; when yours twisted around his, he sucked on yours controlling who had the power. You’d always suspected he was a tease, and he was showing you just how much of one he was. His kisses did what they always did, made you dizzy, and distracted, making you almost forget what you were trying to do—almost.

You quickly pulled away from him and went to his ear. “Nice try. My interrogation practices are undefeated,” you whispered before you gently nibbled his ear. You intended to slip away, but OA was quicker. He pulled you to him and kissed you stupid, stepping his game all the way up. You were so open for him that you didn’t care who took control.

“You forget who I am,” OA gruffly spoke with your faces mere centimeters from each other.

“And you seem to not know who I am,” you countered, clenching around him again. OA sucked in a sharp breath as his eyebrows knitted together. “Put them back,” you ordered drunk off the power you possessed. You knew if he genuinely wanted to, he could have flipped you onto the couch and had you screaming “fuck me” in the six languages you were conversational in.

OA groaned but didn’t obey right away; instead, he nudged his hips up, thrusting into you to remind you just how good he could make you feel. One thrust was more than tempting enough to give in, but you didn’t become who you were by caving at the first sign of pressure. OA’s smile was playful as he put his hands back onto the back of the couch.

Fully drunk off of the power you held, you got lost in the music playing and teased him mercilessly. OA’s eyes never left you and your body. He watched you as if you were the best show he’d ever seen. You knew what he wanted without him saying a word. When he wanted you to go fast, you went slower. When his eyes pleaded with you to bounce, you bucked. After a few minutes, he looked to be on the verge of taking what he wanted to hell with you giving it. You didn’t know if you were more excited at that prospect or afraid. As you sped, you locked eyes with him.

“What’s your weakness?”

He was close to cracking, you could tell, but instead of telling you, he remained silent. You braced your hands on his torso and wildly rode him determined to make him speak. OA’s moans tumbled from him one after the other. The setting sun shone through the window and bathed your skin in its glow, highlighting the sweat that decorated your bodies. Your own orgasm was quickly creeping up on you, and you weren’t sure who would crack first. Once you thought it, OA slid further down the couch until it was just his back on the seat, and that was when his hips rose to meet you in one quick thrust.

His thrust came one after the other until he was pummeling into you. As you panted, the whine in your voice got louder and louder until you were damn near breathless. With one hand, OA gripped your hip steadying you so he controlled your body and controlled just how deeply he delivered your pounding. His other hand sank into the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling your head back just enough to tell you that you were at his mercy now.

Any control either of you possessed before was gone. Both of you were moaning and grunting at the top of your lungs, not caring who heard or who had a problem with how loud you were. The pleasure you felt was all-consuming and maddening all at the same time. You frantically chased your release just as fiercely as OA chased his.

“You!” OA’s shout was sudden. “You’re my weakness, Y/N. You make me weak,” he confessed in a rush.

No words had ever held more power than those from him to you. You bucked against him in no coherent fashion, as if you were riding a mechanical bull. He met your movements with his own penetrating thrusts, which only propelled you more forcefully into the orgasmic cloud that was so close to you.

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.

Ignoring the faint sound, you remained in the bubble of sensual pleasure the two of you were wrapped in. The knocking persisted and even got louder. Soon it was too loud to ignore; your body fell out of sync with his, and your movements staggered and clashed with his. OA’s frustration was evident with his loud grunt.

“Hold that thought,” you panted out, trying to catch your breath. You stood sliding off of his length. Glistening, it bobbed in the air between you, distracting you. OA brought his hand to it and slowly stroked himself.

“This thought?”

You smiled and fell for the trap. You slid back onto him, throwing your head back, relishing in the complicated mix of pleasure and a dull ache that only he could produce. You rocked back and forth several times, forgetting the knocks and ringing of the doorbell. You tried to focus only on him, and just when both of you were finding your synchronized stride, the doorbell obnoxiously rang back to back.

“Fuck!”

OA’s frustration over the interruption had you giggling. He shot you a warning look.

“I guarantee you won’t be laughing in a little while,” he promised before he pumped up into you, making you whimper. He didn’t stop with one stroke; he did it again and again. Just when you were going to hover over him, another knock came from the door.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

Both you and OA kissed your teeth in annoyance. Sighing, you stood from him and swung your leg over him, ready to find your robe. When you bent to retrieve it, OA dropped a heavy-handed slap to your ass, which had you biting your bottom lip ready to leave whoever was at the door there for however long it took for you to get yours.

“Get rid of em’—quick,” OA instructed.

You smirked, “Oh, have plans, huh?”

With a smirk of his own, he nodded, “A few and they involve several of your body parts.”

You gasped and pressed your hand to your chest. “Agent Zidan!”

OA smiled and watched you tie the robe around you before you walked from him down the hall to the door. Forgetting to look at the video feed of your front door, you opened it with a lazy smile to see Kristen.

“Kristen!”

Like cold water, your sex induced haze dissipated, leaving you wide-eyed.

“I’ve been knocking and ringing for like three minutes. What’re you doing in there?”

You pulled the door closer behind you blocking her view. “What’s happening?”

“Nothing. What’s up?” You tied to look as calm as possible. “Why’re you here?”

Kristen studied you for a few moments, then looked to your attire, and her face lit up. “Do you have a guy in there?”

“What? No. It’s nothing. I was—resting,” you lied.

“With the screams and shouts, I heard that’s doubtful.”

You pinched your lips and tried to remain collected to not give anything away.

“What’s going on?”

“I’ve been trying to get in touch. Did you hear OA is okay?”

“Yeah. I saw the message briefly before I fell asleep. I’ve been trying to catch up on some sleep,” you expertly lied.

“Well, everyone’s been called to assemble at the JOC. We couldn’t reach you or OA for that matter. I said I’d come by and grab you,” Kristen informed.

“Wow, I haven’t heard from him. He’s gotta be resting after what he’s been through.”

Kristen nodded, accepting your guesses.

“Yeah. So do you wanna change?”

You grabbed the collar of the robe and nodded. “Yeah. I’m gonna grab a shower too. I’ll meet you at HQ,” you said.

“Sounds good. You should hurry, it’s Sunday, and it sounded urgent,” Kirsten finished.

“Got it! Thanks, Kristen.”

You smiled at her as she began walking away. You wanted to make sure she was actually leaving. When you were sure, you walked back into your apartment and locked the door. When you walked back into the living room, the first sight of OA still laying there with his member still out and so damn inviting had you forgetting Kristen’s words.

“You and I have very different definitions of quick,” OA teased. “Come here.” He stroked himself a few times, reigniting the flame within you that the impromptu visit had doused.

“God, you look so tempting.”

“Let me tempt you then,” OA coaxed. You whined and watched him stand and walk to you. Once before you, he easily lifted you into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist and moaned when you felt his giant hands grip your ass to hold you onto him.

“We gotta go, that was Kristen, we’ve been summoned,” you informed. OA didn’t look phased.

“They can wait a little longer,” he whispered before he sheathed himself in your soaping core.

Both of you released a satisfied sigh as if there was nowhere in the world, either of you would rather be. OA took the lead and moved your body as he wished. He began slowly stroking into you, using his lower half as a wave reaching depths inside of you that had you whimpering as you held him to you. When you whimpered, he mewled. When you clenched around him, he slammed into you, holding you steady so you felt every inch of him.

It didn’t take long for either of you to be at the precipice of your undoing. You felt the wall at your back, and that was when OA hammered into you with the speed of a roadrunner. In seconds you shouted out as your orgasm overtook you and pulled you so deep in the sea of gratifying pleasure that you didn’t care if you drowned in it. Long minutes passed with both of trying to catch your breath and regain your strength. Once you did, OA brought you both to the shower, where you washed each other, trying your best not to get lost in each other yet again.

After a shower, OA dressed and reluctantly left you. It took him several attempts to get through the door, thanks to his sticky fingers trying to get you back into the bed or on the couch or even against the wall. His will was strong, and you were finding you were so corruptible when it came to him. Once he was gone, it took you some time to come down from the thirteenth cloud you were on. You kept replaying the last near forty-eight hours and everything that happened and all that you felt. Needless to say, it was challenging to get your head out of the clouds and back into professional mode.

By the time you made it to the JOC, it was almost an hour and a half since Kristen had stopped by. You did your best to hammer into your head to act as if everything was the same, and nothing had changed. When you walked into the office, you politely smiled at everyone and greeted them as you made it to your desk.

“Y/N, wonderful you were able to join us,” Isobel shouted out, acknowledging your presence. “Any idea where OA is?”

“No, no clue.”

“Here, here, sorry. I’m here,” OA called out as he pushed through everyone to show his face. You kept your eyes forward, not confident you could keep the smile off your face.

“Glad that you’re feeling well enough to join us, OA,” Isobel began. “Are you sure you don’t need more time to rest and recuperate?”

“No. I’m feeling better than ever. Saturday was just what I needed.” OA replied.

You couldn’t help but smirk then. Pressing your lips together, you tried to stop the giggle that threatened to escape. You peeped over to him to see he was also smirking.

“All right. Great work with that bomb, OA. Next time you’re feeling like being the hero, don’t we’d rather have you here with us than watching over us from the great beyond,” Jubal said. You glanced at OA and gave him a stubborn look that was a warning for the next time he wanted to be an idiot. OA smiled and nodded.

Jubal walked to the front of the JOC, where all the screens were signaling he wanted everyone’s attention. “So normally we don’t do Sundays, but this is urgent. New Dawn Bringers, otherwise known as NDB, have been found to have a connection with a serious trafficking cult that the FBI has been trying to lock down, The Rose Vortex. SVU has been running an operation. They have one of their own inside as we speak,” Jubal informed. He walked to a computer and tapped Ian on the shoulder who brought visuals on the screens before you.

“As of twelve hours ago, she’s gone quiet. We’ve also heard chatter that leadership in NDB is coming to town, and that means they need to be entertained. We have the big bosses, and we want them all,” Jubal finished.

“Okay, sounds good. What’s our play?” Jubal pointed at Kristen, acknowledging her question.

“We have an inside man who says they are getting a new shipment of eh-em, women,” Jubal added.

“What’s our in?”

Isobel and Jubal looked at each other with your question. After looking at them for a few seconds, your alarm slowly rose.

“Uh, why are you guys looking at me?”

Isobel cleared her throat and stood from her partially seated position. “You’re our in,” she announced.

OA sat up in his seat. “How?” You caught the controlling tone in his voice.

“I’ve read your file, Y/N. In Miami, you went undercover with--,” Isobel began before you cut her off.

“The Mantiago Cartel, yeah. It was a week at a sketchy—sex—club,” you slowly finished catching on.

“Yes, a well-known club that serviced that cartel. You got in with the leader and were integral in taking him down. The plan is to get you in with that shipmen to get into the cult,” Isobel informed.

“Absofuckinglutly not!”

All eyes flew to OA. No one spoke, everyone was in too much shock, you included.

“Let’s talk in my office,” Isobel coolly replied as she took a few steps in that direction.

“It doesn’t matter if we talk here or there, the answer is still no,” OA declared.

“OA!”

When he looked at you, he saw the alarm in your eyes. He took a breath and rubbed his goatee around his lips down to his beard. You stood and walked ahead to Isobel’s office. You filed in first, then Isobel, Jubal, and finally, OA. Once the door closed, Isobel was the first to speak.

“Okay, Agent Zidan, take a breath,” she cautiously began as if giving him a nonverbal reminder of who he was. “The plan is simple; Y/N will infiltrate the shipment. Once at the cult location, you will locate the SVU agent and assess the situation. Your objective is to get the bosses into a compromising position for us to bring them in and nail their asses to the wall to give us the win,” Isobel explained.

“While bringing in whatever intel you can on NDB,” Jubal added.

“No. You want her to go undercover as a trafficked sex slave, and before you tell me don’t know what’ll happen, yeah, we do. These women are kidnapped, brutally and violently broken in, then drugged up to be pimped out. There is no way we’re letting Y/N in that,” OA finalized.

“OA, we understand, but she’s had experience with this. I am confident in her ability and skill to get in, find the agent and accomplish the objective,” Isobel reasoned. “Y/N, what do you say?”

You looked between Isobel and Jubal, who waited each with different expressions on their faces. You could feel the death rays from OA beside you. When you looked at him, the look was worse than you expected. He looked at you expectantly. He expected you to say no.

“I can do it. It’s not a big deal,” assured. OA rolled his eyes, clenched his jaw, then turned his back to you.

“All right, we’ll get you up to speed. Let me say this, as a woman I know what I am asking you, I know the danger and risk this will put you in but I am one-hundred percent sure that this is not more than you are capable of,” Isobel slid in with a warm smile before she walked out of the room.

Before you could say anything to him, OA was bolting out the door too. Jubal put the files in front of you. he looked as if he had a question to ask, but instead, he nodded and patted your shoulder. “We have you, Y/N,” he said before he walked out of the office.

The next two hours passed with you drilling yourself, trying to memorize everything in the files. With your head on the task at hand, it didn’t mean that you didn’t see OA every time he stalked past the room with the sourest expression on his face. You knew he was pissed, and it bothered you. His worry wasn’t unwarranted. He was right going undercover like this was dangerous, especially seeing how dangerous and racist the NDB was that danger was increasingly greater.

When you got up to stretch your legs, you saw him at his desk. As you approached, you tried to act as normal as possible. Once beside him, you inhaled his scent, one of his favorite things.

“Think you can quiz me?”

The look he gave you was an incredulous one that said you were crazy. “No, thanks.”

“OA, come on. Let’s talk,” you whispered. OA sighed and looked around him, accessing the number of eyes on you.

“Fine.”

“Conference room at the end of the hall,” you instructed before you walked off, making a pit stop in the office to gather the files.

Once inside the conference room, you paced the room, walking around the table. Almost eight minutes passed before the door opened, and OA walked in. He stood beside the door with you, standing across the room where the projector was. You stared at each other, neither wanting to concede. At the same time, you both walked around the conference table to meet in the middle. Once before each other, you sighed when you saw the tight clench of his jaw.

“Come on, Omar.”

OA groaned and went soft. “Of course, you’d use my name at a time like this.”

“You’re being unreasonable,” you continued.

“Me? Y/N, this is a sex trafficking ring, a racist one. This is too dangerous, and you know it.”

“No, you know what I know is I've done this before. Neither is the less evil. If this were a week ago, you wouldn’t be acting like this, and you know it,” you breached.

OA sighed again and dropped his head back. “Are you saying I’m acting worried for your safety because—,” he began.

“Am I wrong?”

OA didn’t speak for almost a minute before he sat on the conference table, leaving you to stand there waiting. He rubbed his face and mumbled something that you didn’t catch.

“Yes, you’re wrong. If it were a week ago, I’d still object. I would still feel the same way I do now, about the case and you.”

You stared at each other again. He reached out and pulled you between his legs to him. “There are so many ways this can go bad, so many ways you can get hurt, and I won’t be there. I’m—I’m scared.”

Your heart melted at his admission. OA scoffed.

“I’m fucking scared, and I don’t know what to do about it. I have no control here. If it’s you and me out there, then there is some control, with this--.”

You gripped his jaw and made him look at you. “I get it,” you whispered. OA sniffled and clenched his jaw in that control freak trying to keep his impulses internal way that you’d fallen in love with. You couldn’t help but kiss him even though it was a bad idea, especially considering where you were right now. OA kissed you back, letting it remain slow and tender.

You pressed your forehead to his then sighed as you pulled back to look at him. “We can’t let our fears get in the way of the job. You know that,” you whispered. OA nodded.

“I know, I know, but you’re more than the job now, Y/N. This is more, and no matter if we wanted to just leave things unspoken or not, it is still something. Friday night meant something, Saturday meant something, a few hours ago—that meant something. You’re not just my partner anymore,” OA finished.

He was right; the dynamics of your relationship had now changed. You’d crossed a line, and professional was not what this was anymore. It was something more. Something that neither of you had discussed for whatever reasons, but you both knew you would have to have the discussion. Now was not the time, though.

“OA, this is happening. I can’t be distracted in there. I can’t have you in the back of my head worrying that you’re not okay with this, that you don’t have my back in this.”

“You’re kidding, right? Y/N, I always have your back; I will always have your back. Yeah, I don’t agree with this op, and I wish that you would reconsider, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have your back with it. Your back, my back, we got that.”

You nodded and dropped your forehead to his chest to release a relieved breath. You desperately needed to hear those words, and you hadn’t realized how desperately until now. OA kissed the top of your head.

“I’m going to do whatever necessary to make sure you come home to me. Whatever it takes,” OA finished.

You locked eyes with him seeing the vehemence of his declaration radiating from them.

For the next hour, OA drilled you on the contents of the folder and helped you do what he did best, get your head in the game.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!*** ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#partners fic #oa zidan #oa zidan fanfiction #fbi fanfiction #oa zidan x reader #oa zidan x you #oa zidan x black reader #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #oa zidan smut

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heychangbin · 5 years ago

Text

Change o’ Plans ║ Part One

Summary: You sit beside Vito in the cemetery chapel, going through the motions, praying to saints you don’t believe in to help you make it to the end of the service and for things to run smoothly.

Warnings: Blood, swearing, mentions of murder

Wordcount: 3232

A/N: y’all bitches fucking thought.

You hated this, hated sitting at the first pew, a modest black dress hanging off your shoulders with Vito at your side, his hand holding yours as you both watched friends and relatives walk up to stand beside of the casket, say their piece to the body laying inside, and walk back to their seat.

You bowed your head and prayed to every saint you heard of growing up that they grant you the strength to see this through. You were halfway through reciting a fifth rosary when you felt Vito's hand tighten in yours, making you lift your head and eye him unquestioningly out of the corner of your eye. His eyes were trained ahead, lips pressed into a harsh line and his shoulders were tense. You followed his line of sight and your own hand tightened, your back going rigid at the sight of Georgie, bent over the side of the casket, his large hand gripping one of the bodies shoulders as he murmured things you couldn't hear.

You felt yourself go livid at the audacity of the man, but then again, you never knew Georgie to have any shame which is how you weren't surprised at all when he stopped in front of you and Vito instead of heading back to his own pew, his large hand coming to tap and grip Vito's shoulder,

"'Ey Vee,sorry 'bout your brother"

Vito gave him a curt nod with a clipped "thanks Georgie,"

"He looks good, all things considered, guys in the back did him good."

You could feel how your nails dug into Vito's skin but the man beside you didn't flinch, he continued to hold on tight to your hand, if it was to keep you or himself from standing and completely throttling George you couldn't be sure, but you were grateful to have him there as an anchor.

"Listen, if either of yous need anything, you come to me, Nicky was my best friend, he was family, and that means you are too."

For a brief moment you entertained the idea of telling George he could take that sentiment and shove it where the sun don't shine, after what he did to Nick he was lucky that he was still standing and that Vito was the only family you had but before the words could leave your lips you heard Vito say from beside you,

"Thanks George, we'll keep that in mind."

George took a step and knelt in front of you, his hand coming to rest on your knee, thumb stroking the outside dip as his eyes bore into yours and emphasized his words,

"I mean it, anythin' at all, I'm your guy."

The weight of his meaty hand on you had you suppressing a shiver, it took everything in you to not shove him away and force out a "thanks" that almost choked you to say and disguised your struggle by bowing your head, covering your mouth and leaning into Vito's shoulder.

It seemed to do the trick, george gave your knee what was supposed to be a reassuring squeeze but felt anything but, pushed himself up off the floor and made his way back down the aisle between the pews.

It was another hour until the service was brought to a close but not before you walked up to the casket, your low heels clicking against the linoleum floor and echoing off the walls of the chapel. You stared at the face that looked so much like the man you loved, his face was peaceful, forehead relaxed, his long lashes fanning across the top the apple of his cheeks, his hair was combed back in the way it usually was, shiny from the product he ran through his dark tresses to keep them in place, his beard immaculately styled, dressed in a lead gray suit, arms resting at his sides, the tip of his neck tattoo peeking over the neck of his charcoal button down. If it weren't for the color of his skin that was off by a couple of shades, you'd think he was sleeping.

The sob that wracked your body had you stumbling back and into the arms of Vito, who held you close, hand stroking your back whispering words of encouragement as you felt chest caving in on itself and murmurs rose from behind him,

"I can't—I can't do this Vee, I gotta get outta here."

"Just a bit more, then this'll all be over."

You gripped the lapels of his jacket so hard you swore you heard and felt the material tear between your fingers before loosening your hold on the material and nodding.

"Please, don't make me go back up there Vee, I can't," you struggled to say between broke sobs

"Yeah, c'mon," he murmured, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and guiding you back to the pew.

It wasn't long after that that the minister called the viewing to a close and give directions to the plot where the casket would be lowered.

The last rays of sunlight were lingering in the sky when Vito dropped you off with a promise to stop by the next day.

You hugged him and thanked him for being there with you before you climbed out of his car and made your way up the short walkway to your front door, giving him a final wave as you walked through your door and locking it behind you.

You leaned against the door for a moment and just breathed, the hardest part was done.

You dropped your keys into the bowl that sat atop the table beside the door and stepped out of your heels, promising yourself to pick them up and put them away tomorrow morning.

You took a step in the direction of the small kitchen

"How was it?" Despite the voice being familiar and exactly what you needed to erase the image of the man in the casket from your mind, it still made you jump and kicked your heart into overdrive as it frantically beat against the middle of your chest.

"God damn it Nick!" You hissed to the dark room at large, "you almost gave me a goddamn heart attack," you continued as you peered at the empty living room, forcing your eyes to adjust until you were able to make out his silhouette. Once you did you launched yourself at him, giving himself barely enough time to open his arms and catch you. His arms wrapping around your waist as yours went around his neck.

*******

The house was dark for the exception of the kitchen light, where you were sitting at your kitchen table, the clock on the stove indicating it was 2am in neon green numbers.

He should've been back by now….unless, you drummed your fingernails on the shiny wooden surface as you fought thoughts of the alternative from your mind.

He's gonna be back….any minute now, he's gonna walk through the front door with a bag of taco bell...

You reached for your phone, bringing the screen to life to see the clock on the screen 2:03. You pressed the power button, making the screen go dark as you pushed yourself off your chair and walked the length of your small kitchen a few times before you walked over to the counter, pulling one of the drawers open, reaching in and pulling out the pack of cigarettes and lighter Nick kept there. You taped the pack against the heel of your palm before pulling one out, placing it between your lips and lighting it. Taking a drag and filling your lungs with the smoke, holding it for a beat before exhaling the smoke in a plume of white. The nicotine did very little to settle your nerves but that didn't stop you from bringing it back to your lips and taking another long drag, flicking the edge and letting the ash fall into the sink.

You turned to the clock on the stove again, the numbers on it reading 2:14.

Where are you Nick, you shouldve been back by now,

You flicked the ash off your cigarette again, and reached for your phone, bringing it to life, 2:18, tapping out your passcode and flicking the screen to your contacts, your thumb hovering over Vito's contact entry when the backdoor was thrown open, making you jump. You reached for the closest thing to use as a weapon, a frying pan that had been drying on the dish rack, holding it over your head ready to bring it down on your intruder when you recognized Vito. Your hold on the handle went slack when you saw Nick hanging off his brother's shoulder, his face clammy and looking too pale for comfort.

"Get the first aid kit," Vito gritted through his teeth as he struggled to maneuver himself and Nick through the threshold and crashing into the open door, the sound and Nick's groan of pain jolting you into action, tossing her phone on the counter and the half gone cigarette into the sink to worry about later, pulls one of the cabinet doors open, reaching for the small plastic box, throwing the lid open and quickly picked up a few packets of sterile gauze, ripping them open while Vito lifted the bloody end of Nick's shirt over his stomach.

What you saw made your knees buckle, a long deep gash ran along his side, the edges dark and crusty and the surrounding skin an alarming shade of dark pink with streaks and swirls of red.

"He just grazed me, bleedin’ already stopped,” Nick grits out in an attempt to reassure you as you crouch down beside him and carefully dab away the blood that is slowly trickling down the jagged edges, the obvious strain in his voice does nothing to reassure you that Nick is not gonna bite the dust in your kitchen chair, "just hurts like a bitch, is all."

You cover and apply pressure to the wound before looking over at Vito, the request for warm water and a couple of clean towels dying on the tip of your tongue when your eyes land on the patches of blood on his side too, tears stung your eyes and blurred your vision, No, I can’t lose both of them.

“I gotta get you guys to a hospital,” you force out through choked sobs as your eyes jump between them.

Nick groans out a garbled “No.” at the same time Vito looks over at you from where he’s leaning against the counter, confusion clear on his face before looking down at himself,

“Shit, no, I’m fine,” he rushes out, lifting the edge of his shirt to show you that there were no wounds on him, “some’ve Nick’s blood must’ve gotten on me.” he explained, twisting from side to side before dropping his shirt back down.

You swallow the lump that’d been lodged in your throat in relief and ask him to hand you some warm water and clean towels.

Vito turns to the sink and twists the knobs a few times, letting the hot water run as he looks through the cabinets for a large bowl to fill, meanwhile you keep a steady pressure on the wound and talk to Nick to keep him conscious.

“We really should take you to the hospital Nick,”

“No hospital,” he groans out, his voice already sounding stronger now that he’s had a moment to rest.

“You’re probably gonna need stitches Nick,” you argue, exasperation bleeding into your voice at his stubbornness.

He doesn't say anything for a moment, the only sound in the small kitchen is the running water from the sink, you look up at him and see his eyes focused on Vito, who shakes his head at what he reads in his brother's eyes.

You shoot your own questioning gaze at the younger man, unable to understand how Vito could suggest Nick not go to the hospital with a bleeding gash on his side, you open your mouth to say such but Nicky beats you to the punch saying,

“I killed Sal.”

Your head snaps back to look at Nick so fast you wonder how you don't give yourself whiplash.

“....what?”

“Sal took a shot at me when I went to talk to him, fix things with him, he had a gun under the table but his aim was off, the bullet grazed my side….before he could try again….” he paused and turned to look at you, his hand coming to rest on top of yours and gripping it tight, “I had to come back to you, is all I knew, I put one in his chest….’nd two in his head.”

You look back at Vito, “Did you—”

Before you could finish your question Nick and Vito answered with a chorused “No.”

“I had no idea what he was going to do,” Vito explained

“He followed me after I told him not to,” Nick continued, “I didn’t know he was there until….after.’

You looked at where your hands were joined, he could’ve….you shook your head as if it would help banish the dreadful thought.

“We--I gotta lay low for a while, I’m sure Sal wasn’t the only one that thought I’d try and talk to him, when they find them, they’ll know it was me.’

Them? You looked back up at Nick,

“Rocco, Sal’s bodyguard, he saw me go in.” he explained, brows furrowed and eyes hard as he looked at Vito.

You looked between them and caught the twitch in Vito’s cheek, the same one that told you he was bluffing when you sat down and played poker with him.

“Vee?” Vito broke Nick’s gaze and looked at you and you saw it in his eyes, saw the truth Nick was trying to hide or spare you from, “oh Vee.”

“I had to, Rocco, he woulda—”

“You didn’t do shit, you hear me,” Nick yells over Vito, hands on his knees as if to push himself up off the chair and hissing when he shifts, muttering a fuck as he let's himself drop back down and lean against the high back.

His hand comes up to punch at the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated sigh and in a more relaxed tone says,

“We talked 'bout this Vee, you weren’t there. Period. I went there alone, left alone, and you haven’t seen me since." He turns to look at you, dark eyes intense as they bore into yours, "Either of you.”

"Whaddya talkin' 'bout Nicky?"

Nick's eyes move from yours to look behind you at Vito, giving his head a slight nod to the side.

"Imma give you guys a minute."

You heard Vito shift behind you, the sound of drawers opening and closing, then a quiet clink as he placed one of the larger ceramic bowls from your cabinets, an off blue you used for plating for special occasions and holidays, beside you and dropped a few folded towels in various shades and prints on Nick's leg.

The quiet between the two you stretch long after the muted thud of Vito’s shoes on the carpeted floor disappeared as he made his way through the livingroom and to one of the bedrooms.

When he still didn’t say anything, you shifted your weight, resting your knees on the cool linoleum and reached for the bowl of water, dipping your fingertip from your free hand in to check the temperature. Satisfied that it was warm enough to not further irritate the skin around the wound, you reached for the towels and dropped a couple of them in the bowl, letting them soak as you carefully removed the gauze from his side. You wring the excess water from one of the towels and carefully dab at the stains, wiping away the red and revealing the pink and tanned skin underneath. You’re half way through clearing away the dried bloods when Nick breaks the silence.

"After tonight, we—I can't sta—”

“Niccolo Emilio Tortano,” you interrupted, eyes meeting his as your hands stillied their work, “if you think I’m gonna stay in this god forsaken town without you, you got another thing comin’”

The corners of his lips turn up in a barely there smile, “Vito said you’d say somethin’ like that.”

“Vee’s a smart kid,” you nodded, dipping the soiled towel in the water, wringing it and going back to wipe away at the blood.

“He is, smarter than I was when I was his age.”

You’re selling yourself short Nicky, when you were his age, you were….

“I gotta plan to get us outta town,” he went on, telling you enough of what his plan was but keeping the grittier details you knew would be involved, especially of when he spoke about George, to himself. You were long finished cleaning his wound, adding some ointment and a taping gauze to his side by the time he finished explaining his plan.

“You think it’s gonna work?” you asked, balling up the trash and pushing yourself up off your knees and walking over to throw it away in the bin under the sink. You turn to go pick up the owl of water, and catch Nick as he’s pushing himself up off the chair, bowl of pink water in one hand and the soiled towels in the other. You roll your eyes at him, leaning back against the edge of the counter while he dumps the water down the drain, turned the faucet on and let the towels soak, dumping a generous amount of dish soap and scrubbing at the stains.

“It’s gotta.”

******

“Almost everyone you said showed up,” you said once you had moved back to your bedroom, hands reaching at the zipper at your back.

“Almost?” Nick said stepping up behind you and lowering the zipper.

“Yeah, couple of guys came up to Vee, saying that Lorenzo and Orazio couldn’t make it but that they send their condolences, that you had promise, that it was unfortunate how things…unfolded.”

He gave a humorless huff as you pulled and shifted your dress off your shoulders, stepping out of it and draping it at the end of the bed.

“George showed up,” you mentioned as you pulled out a pair of pyjama shorts and an old tshirt from the dresser, and stepping into the bottoms, Nick muttering a curse and asking what he’d wanted.

“Told Vee and I that he was there for us, whatever we needed, to come to ‘im, that you were family to him ‘nd--”

Another curse interrupted you, “sonuvabitch has some balls.”

You tried but you couldn’t help that burst of laughter that came out of you, “Vee said the exact same thing on the drive back.”

That got a chuckle from Nick “It’s a Tortano trait,” he said as he came to stand in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “I know that you did today wasn’t easy, I’m so--”

You pushed yourself up on the balls of your feet, pressing your lips to his, silencing his for a moment, pulling back and saying,

“I love you Nicky, without you here, there’s nothing for me to stick around for.”

Nick leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his hold on your tightening slightly.

“Just a few more days, then, this’ll all be over.”

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

@juguitos @something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @the-blind-assassin-12 @suchatinyinfinity @bts-smolarmy @elanor-of-imladris @pheedraws @obscurilicious

#by the gun #nick tortano #nick tortano x reader #nick tortano x you #by the gun fic #Y’ALL BITCHES REALLY FUCKING THOUGHT I #M E #WOULD DO MY HUSBAND LIKE THAT???!?!#HELL TO THE FUCK NO #NOT IN THIS FUCKING HOUSE #ONLY GOOD THINGS FOR MY SWEET MAFIOSO HUSBAND #ONLY GOOD THINGS FOR THE SWEETEST MAFIOSO TO COME OUTTA BOSTON #ONLY GOOD THINGS FOR NICCOLO EMILIO TORTANO #THE SWEETEST MAFIOSO TO EVER FUCKING LIVE

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