#please please let gun take goo’s offer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

htchnr · 1 year ago

Text

01 ★ pink lemonade ❥ ROOMMATE! A. HOTCHNER.

➻❥ masterlist. ➻❥ patreon.

CW ➥ brief mention of hotch's guns ⋆ other than that nothing else! ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

WC ➥ 1,5k. SONG ➥ pink lemonade , james bay.

SUMMARY ➥ you had honestly forgotten you had posted a listing for a roommate — until the firm but gentle knock on the door revealed a tall man behind it, in a neat suit.

AUTHORS NOTE ➥ screw it, i cannot wait any longer while i finish up the chapters i had wanted to write before i started posting this series. so here is chapter one 😁 trust the process, i'm not a huge fan of this chapter, the rest definitely get better!

CHAPTER ONE | cinnamon sugar.

➻❥ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫. ➻❥ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

you had honestly forgotten you had posted a listing for a roommate — until the firm but gentle knock on the door revealed a tall man behind it, in a neat suit.

"hello! can i help you?" you ask, puzzled, as your eyes flit across the bizarre character in front of you. he looked official — agent or lawyer official — in a charming suit and neatly combed hair.

he flashed a small smile, "i'm Aaron, Hotchner, we very briefly spoke through emails about the roommate listing. is the offer still open?" he knew it was still open, you hadn't taken down the listing yet.

you blink for a second, before a smile takes over your face. "yeah! do you want to come in?" you offer, stepping aside. he smiles, stepping inside the apartment. you close the door behind him, moving to the kitchen, "can i get you anything to drink? tea or coffee? i've got other things as well of course,"

he chuckles at your enthusiasm, you're a little too easily trusting — stepping aside for him and letting him in as soon as he asks about the listing.

the background check he had Garcia run for him turned up with nothing strange or crazy, you lead a simple, easy life. went through school, almost finished college but had to take a long break due to your grandmother passing away. but you've started taking classes again, and you're grades are great.

you don't work full time, you help out in the café just below the apartments a few days a week — you're good friends with the owner of the building, and have been since you were a teenager. she helps you out with your bills and you help her out with the physical work wherever you possibly can.

honestly he doesn't know what about you or the apartment pulled him in, maybe he was just sick of living alone — the silence starting to take a toll on him. or he just wanted a change in his life, a different environment to come home too.

"some coffee is fine, thank you." he replies, setting his briefcase by the door. the apartment looks nice — homey and sweet, from his first impression of you, it reflects who you are.

you nod, opening the cupboard to grab two mugs. lucky for him, you had just finished making a fresh pot of coffee. you set down two mugs, grabbing the pot as you pour the coffee. "do you like anything in it?"

he thinks for a second, "a little sugar?"

you nod to yourself, grabbing your little sugar jar and spooning in some. you finish making yours before taking the two mugs towards the living room. "please, take a seat," you motion to the couch as you settle into the arm chair beside it.

you hand him his mug, earning a small smile as he looks at the colourful pattern on the mug. "thank you." he grins, taking a sip. the coffee tastes great, mixed with a hint of, cinnamon?

you can see him thinking, so you beat him to the question. "oh sorry! i hope cinnamon sugar is okay, i need to buy a new pack of regular sugar i used the last of it in the cookies i baked last night.."

he shakes his head, "the sugar is fine, don't worry."

you grin, nodding. "so, uh, Aaron?" you look up from your mug — uhg, he's handsome. "what drew you-" you huff, stopping your sentence. "i'm not really good at this, uh, just tell me about yourself?" you sheepishly smile, tilting your head.

"don't worry about it," he smiles reassuringly. "well, i'm thirty-three, i work at the FBI," he pauses, thinking. "i work odd hours, sometimes i'm away for a little while, not more than a few weeks. oh, i do carry two guns, would that be a problem here?" he hadn't thought about that yet.

you finish your coffee in a large sip, shaking your head as you swallow it down quickly. "not a problem at all! i'm not a huge fan of guns but as long as you put them away properly i have no issue with them." you smile.

he nods, acknowledging it.

"but FBI? are you a secret agent or something? as long as you can talk about obviously," you grin, intrigued by his profession.

he chuckles at your enthusiasm. "i work in the Behavioural Analysis Unit, we profile behaviour and habits to catch killers. we pick apart what makes someone tick, how they move, what their house looks like for example, what their job is, their facial expressions, little habits. and we create a profile based on that, that describes the person we're looking for."

you look utterly captured by his explanation, very intently listening. "that sounds really interesting, so you deal with serial killers too?"

he nods, "serial killers, arsonists, bombers."

your eyes light up, "tell me, is it anything like true crime shows?" you watch a little too many of those..

he laughs, "i guess a little, though much more complex."

you grin and nod. "on another note, is there anything you'd like to know in detail about the apartment? specific things you need or?"

he thinks for a moment, "could we take a look around?"

you nod, setting your mug down on the coffee table. "yeah! well, as you've been looking around, this is the living room, ..."

⋆⊹✮⊹⋆

the tour went well, Aaron intently listened as you explained things and showed things, asking small questions here and there. he took a good look around every window and door, thoroughly checking the front door as well. you showed him his room, as well as a room you told him he could use as an office if he needed to.

he ended up staying for dinner, as it was late when the tour and check up was finished. you had insisted on cooking, while he didn't want to trouble you. you had said that you were gonna order something cause you were tired, but when he agreed to staying for dinner you changed your plans and decided to cook. you had made biscuits and gravy, having made the dough this morning already.

"wow," he said, fingers in front of his lips as he chewed. "this is really good." comfort flooded his body as he ate the food — he had been living off of take out for too long.

you smile, looking down. "thank you, i'm glad it's good."

the rest of dinner was filled with small talk, little things about you, little things about him. with the last few scrapes of your forks your plates were empty and the two of you sat in silence for a second.

"so, what do you think?" you smile hopefully.

he returns the smile, "when can i move in?"

safe to say you're just a little ecstatic. it's been a while since you've lived with anyone — not since you first semester in college — so you're excited.

your grin grows, "whenever you're ready."

TAGLIST ➥ @realdirectionx @mrs-ssa-hotch

#⋆୨🩷©2023 htchnr #⋆୨⭐️aaron hotchner #⋆୨❣️roommate!aaron #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner series

191 notes · View notes

anonymousbardd · 7 months ago

Text

꒰ ☕ ꒱ ┊: The Life Created (2)

- The First Trimester

↳ Various x FemReader

- The following characters are Gun Park, Goo Kim, Samuel Seo, Jake Kim, and Vin Jin

ʚɞ ┊: Gun Park

↳ Every night I would wake up and run to the bathroom throwing up everything I ate that day, and Gun would always be next to me holding my hair.

Gun had quit smoking when he found out I was pregnant, he began to cook me meals and help out in any way he could.

When my breasts started to get tender and swollen, I felt a bit flustered, Gun reassured me that it didn't look bad.

He would often massage me, every part of my sore body.

There are times he would gently massage my sore and swollen breasts, he would place soft kisses on my neck and chest.

Gun would always make sure that I don't feel uncomfortable and would do anything to lessen the pain I would be feeling.

He was always by my side and would get me some snacks whenever I craved something to eat.

ʚɞ ┊: Goo Kim

↳ Goo had put me on bed rest, he wouldn't let me leave unless I needed to throw up or pee, he took care of the chores, of the food and he took care of me.

I would hear him complain because a task is difficult, but when I'd offer to help he'd respond to me with, "Shut up, you're pregnant! You shouldn't do things that may cause you stress!"

And then once he realised that he raised his voice he would huff and apologise for yelling at me.

Every night, he would crease my legs and kiss my face.

Goo tried his best to tend to me whenever I needed it the most, there are times his hands would travell on my most sensitive spots and start teasing me.

He usually whines because he misses me, and my body, but he's patient enough to go through the whole pregnancy with me.

ʚɞ ┊: Samuel Seo

↳ Samuel started waking up alongside me whenever I felt like throwing up, he'd rub my back and hold my hair as my head was inside the toilet bowl.

He's been getting me things I need and has been doing his own research om how to take care of some who's pregnant.

He takes his time with me and is ways prepared no matter what.

Whenever he goes to work, he'd call frequently, even while he's fighting, and if he isn't able to call he'd apologize later on.

My Samuel has been so nice to me, and I really don't know how to make up for it, all he tells me is that it's okay and the child I'm carrying is a blessing enough.

ʚɞ ┊: Jake Kim

↳ "Jake! Can you please get me some water?" I shouted, my fiancé came out of the bathroom half naked and dripping wet just to get me some water.

Jake has always been there for me, he, Lua, the big deal, they've been doing everything they can to help me.

He's been spoiling me with kisses and affection, sometimes he'd whine saying that he misses me.

When my boobs started to get swollen and tender, Jake's been snatching every chance he gets to grope them.

At some point, he'd ask if it was okay if he fucked my chest, I told him no countless times but then he'd start begging.

Eventually, I gave in and he began to touch my breasts and please himself using my body.

He'd clean up using his tongue, licking every inch of my tits.

I was sensitive, and it felt good too, but it was a bit unfair.

ʚɞ ┊: Vin Jin

↳ On my first trimester, I'd constantly get morning sickness and nausea, Vin would be there and he'd try to consult me, but it ends up being annoying because it's clear he isn't enjoying it.

"Vin... Can you please fetch me some water...?" I quietly asked, my dearest boyfriend, who's sat on his beanbag let out a groan and stood up to get me a half full glass of water.

I couldn't do anything about it, it was clear that he really wasn't ready for this type of life style.

"Marry... I don't know how long I'll be able to stay sane for!" I complained to the blonde woman in front of me, she was sat on the couch drinking soda while listening to my complaints.

"Vin is sweet and all... But it's clear that he's not really interested in helping out much... He doesn't have an idea what to do..."

Marry sighed and placed her hand on mine, "You know how that dick is, don't worry, I'll be here to help you out."

The next few days, I haven't been seeing my boyfriend much, it made me feel depressed and it felt like I was all alone during this.

But then one night, I had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for Vin, as I quietly slept, I felt two pairs of arms snake around my waist.

My eyes fluttered open and I saw Vin carrying me to our bedroom, he placed me down on the bed and placed a kiss on my forehead, "You're an idiot..." He muttered.

He then sat down near me, his hands were holding mine, "I'm sorry... I really should start being more responsible now that I'm going to be a father."

Vin sighed and laid down next to me, he pulled me closer to him, I felt his breath tickle my skin.

"I'm sorry, I'll do better, starting now."

Note: "Nyahalo everyone! Sorry for being a bit inactive... I've been pretty busy w/ my exams and we had to go something for a few days.

Worry not, I'll try to finish up a few fics so that I'll be able to upload a bit more.

Also, Ik some people request some smut w/ pregnant reader but tbh I don't really know how I'll begin one w/ somebody pregnant, because the thing running in my mind is it'll be harmful to fuck when there's baby :').

Either way, hope y'all like this."

༝༚༝༚𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚍

#looksim #pregnant reader #lookism Headcanons #lookism men Headcanons #lookism one shot #lookism x reader #lookism men and pregnant reader

106 notes · View notes

lokislytherin · 2 years ago

Text

言わざる // speak no evil

pairing: byelingual!park jonggun x waiter!reader

summary: yamazaki yuzuru, also known as park jonggun, is trying his damned best to learn korean for csat. despite his best efforts, his favourite bartender doesn’t seem too impressed. in other words: park jonggun hwaiting~

tags: crack, pre-canon, gun is korean by birth but raised in japan but jailed in korea so he doesn’t even know how he identifies himself anymore, canon compliant, gun might be ooc bc he’s not fighting this is calm gun

gun’s first thought upon seeing you is - damn, you’re gorgeous.

he’s been to this izakaya several times before, but he has never seen you behind the counter. maybe it’s your first day. maybe you’ve been here for a while, working the wednesday night shift, and he has just never been here on a wednesday. it’s a school night, after all. he has his csat to study for, even though he thinks he’ll fail. his korean isn’t quite up to par. he’s spent too long in juvie, and even longer in japan.

gun isn’t the only japanese person here. well, technically gun is korean, but he’s been yamazaki yuzuru, shiroi oni for so long it feels like he’s japanese instead. when he’d fought that straw-haired asshole, kim joongoo, the dumbhead had downright refused to believe gun was korean by birth. no way, he’d said with a mocking grin, hand over his jaw where gun had almost knocked his entire bottom row of teeth out, your accent’s fucking atrocious.

gun would’ve gone for round two of a fight if goo hadn’t smashed a staff into his face and almost broken his skull as well as his nose.

anyway, back to the izakaya. where gun speaks japanese, because it’s so much easier than korean to him.

gun’s been here often enough to start to recognize the regulars - hattori-san with his raspy kansai-ben, who always orders cheap beer to go with his equally cheap cigarettes and starts flirting with the whoever’s pouring his beer whenever he gets too drunk; miyamura-san, who had been sent on a year-long business trip from tokyo to seoul and drinks sake to cover up how dearly she misses her family; and there’s park jong gun himself, who always orders the same gyoza dish because it’s damn tasty, alright.

today, it’s a different person behind the counter. it’s you, who speaks kindly to miyamura-san when she weeps about homesickness. it’s you, who doesn’t hesitate to call a drunk hattori-san a cab and manhandle him out of the shop yourself when the taxi arrives. you’re around gun’s age, japanese by birth, but both your japanese and your korean, which you showcase when a korean couple wander in in search of ramen, are both better than gun’s. you don’t seem too wary about gun, either. you’re always bringing him his signature gyoza with a sweet smile, offering him helpful tips on learning korean when he brings his notebook in to study for tests. gun-chan, you tease him sometimes, study at home, not here. he doesn’t answer, too busy wondering why you don’t fear him in the slightest.

because you should.

gun is the most dangerous person in this small izakaya. you’re strong enough to manhandle hattori-san, who is drunk and balding and somewhere in his late fifties, but your wrists are thin, your legs long and slim. you’ve got that doe-eyed innocence to you too, like a newborn fawn. you’d be able to please him with your body if you didn’t break under his rough hands first.

or maybe that could be the foreplay. you’d look good, struggling not to let gun break you, fighting back with all you’ve got.

gun has no alcohol with him, but his cheeks feel a little too flushed for his own comfort. he finishes his gyoza in silence, pays you a hefty tip and refuses to take the change, and then leaves.

he’ll keep you a secret, for now. choi dongsoo doesn’t have to know about you. and neither does gun's asshole of a housemate, kim joongoo.

he comes to the izakaya once every two weeks almost religiously just to see your pretty face. every time, you greet him with a smile. at some point, it becomes a running gag between the two of you. tadaima, he’ll say as he steps in, all evidence of his, ah, after-school job carefully hidden away. okaeri, you’ll say in response, your usual gyoza? and gun will say yes, because this place, this banter, is starting to feel like home to him. nothing has ever felt like home to him. it’s hard to find peace when gun lives the life of a hired gangster.

of course, of course, peace never lasts.

because one day, after school, kim ��fucking dumbhead who can't read social cues’ joongoo insists on following gun to the izakaya. “i’m hungry,” he complains, “it’s your cooking day today, and since you won’t cook, i’ll just get dinner with you.”

he really doesn’t want to let joongoo meet you, but joongoo's a tenacious bastard who refuses to let go even when gun is trying to choke him out in the middle of the street, so gun ends up with no choice but to bring him to meet you.

he's still squabbling with joongoo by the time he steps into the izakaya. "okaeri, gun-cha-" your eyes widen. "ara ara, gun-chan, you brought a friend?"

"yes," joongoo says at the same moment gun says "we are not friends."

you giggle, eyes bright. "okay, gun-chan and gun-chan's not friend."

"gun-chan," joongoo mouths in awe. his knowledge of japanese is limited to anime and "omae wa mou shindeiru".

gun gives him a noogie because he's too polite to get blood all over your meticulously cleaned counter. "usual gyoza for me," gun mutters to you in japanese because he knows joongoo won't understand, "and the least popular item on the menu for him."

you laugh. "hai, hai!"

you end up placing two dishes of the same gyoza in front of gun and joongoo. gun blinks. "you're kidding, right?"

"gun-chan, you're literally the only one who orders this."

joongoo digs into his gyoza with a hearty "itadakimasu!" and you laugh when he gets sauce on his stupid glasses. gun feels overwhelming jealousy gnawing at his insides. you're his. you shouldn't be laughing at joongoo unless you're mocking him.

"just between you and me," you whisper to gun over the counter, "your friend reminds me of some of the tourists i used to get at the famiresu i used to work at in japan. they'd try to speak in japanese, but their accent wouldn't be right. it's sweet to see them try."

it's all too easy to imagine you in a cute apron and matching hat, cheerfully shouting "irraishaimase!" at new customers. it's too easy, like it's a memory instead of a fantasy. "which one did you work at? denny's?" back when he was fourteen and living the overpowered tween gangster life, he’d almost gotten attached to a denny’s worker who had actually tried to help him with his schoolwork and learning korean in particular. they were sweet but authoritative. they knew how to order him around and get him to do things, and that might have been the beginning of gun’s masochistic streak, actually. gun hadn’t seen them since he got arrested and sent to juvie in korea, but now that he thinks of it, they might have looked a little like you.

maybe he’s just projecting.

“yeah! i did work at denny's, actually.” it’s only thanks to gun’s years of experience as a trained thug that he doesn’t let his surprise show. did you read his mind? “why ask?”

“i was just curious. i grew up in japan.”

“yeah, i guessed. your japanese is excellent, but your korean… you make the same mistakes as one of my old regulars, but he was fourteen and you’re what, nineteen? you mix up the i, geu, jeo words too, just less often than he did.” you hum, a distant smile on your face. “it was easy for me to remember. it’s almost the same as koko, soko, asoko, isn’t it?”

gun nods. yeah, that was how the waiter from back then taught him to memorize i, geu and jeo too. gun just messes it up nowadays when he tries to think in korean instead of japanese. you flit off to help another patron and strike up a conversation with them instead. gun had almost forgotten that he couldn’t monopolise your attention that easily.

joongoo nudges him with the most demonic smile of all time settled on his face. there’s a veggie stuck between his teeth, and oh, what wouldn’t gun do to punch it out of the way? punch joongoo so hard he chokes on his own shattered teeth? “someone’s got a crush~” he sings loudly. nobody hears him over the din of the izakaya. “i’m gonna tell the b-”

gun tips his chin up and forcefully shuts joongoo’s mouth. joongoo whimpers as he bites his tongue, but gun holds his mouth shut. “don’t you fucking dare.”

it’s not even a crush. it’s just a passing fancy. you just remind him of someone he used to know.

“we’re leaving,” gun hisses. he’s going to beat joongoo’s ass into next week. “yo, jagiya-”

joongoo chokes on a laugh, but gun can’t think of why. over here… isn’t it jagiya?

“it’s jeogiyo,” you say with a shit-eating grin. it’s cute on you, unlike on joongoo. “but if you want to call me jagiya i won’t mind either, gun-chan.”

gun remembers making that mistake, years ago. he’d mixed them up again - jeogiyo is ‘come here’, jagiya is ‘sweetheart’. joongoo laughs harder at gun’s slowly reddening cheeks. oh, he wants you so bad. he’d hurt you so good, make you cry as he calls you jagiya and carve his mark into your body the only way he knows how.

“or should i call you yucchan? yamazaki yuzuru-chan?” you lean in close, something dangerous on your face. good for you, gun is a dangerous man. “the white oni?”

gun freezes. “how-” no matter how he thinks of it, he can’t think of how you would know about shiroi oni. could it be the other patrons warning you against him? could someone have told you?

“you’ve always called me y/n-san, and i appreciate it. but do you know why i came to korea to study?”

gun shakes his head. you’ve always been y/n-san to him.

“my name is magami y/n. you killed my father. you hurt my little brother ken-chan.” gun remembers now - he remembers young magami kenta who idolised him, until he killed the patriarch of the magami clan. maybe you were sent away to the city to study, and that’s why you weren’t there. “did you really think i’d let you get away?”

gun stops you from threatening him the only way he can think of - he yanks you closer by the collar of your shirt and when you stumble, he’s there, waiting to swallow all of your protests with his lips. oh, he’ll break you.

he’ll break you until all you know is how to scream his name and beg him for mercy.

oh, you’d look so gorgeous.

#park jong gun #gun park #gun x reader #lookism #lookism x reader #i can’t be the only one finding this funny right. Right.#sekaiichi pabo desu (real)#i feel like this is massively ooc #because like i’ve said before i’m not a gun stan #idk how to write him properly #i’m a jay main first and foremost #even jihan’s easier to write

246 notes · View notes

seitmai · 27 days ago

Text

There was something so casual about your friendship with the aviator who seemed to have no intention of ever settling down. Jake was clear from the get-go, that he wasn't interested in being a stepdad. He wasn't interested in the possibility of a committed relationship. They were something he deemed worthy to be thrown in the too-hard basket. But what Jake had also been honest about, was the very fact he found you incredibly irresistible.

I admire the honesty

“My mum doesn’t have boyfriends Mr Jake. You’re her boy-friend.” Dylan explained innocently enough. Jake was sure his brain was computing the conversation properly. “Mum’s in trouble, please! You have to help her!” Dylan begged as his tears stained his young cheeks. He’d seen a lot in his seven years. He even knew how to roll a cigarette. But he didn’t want to know half the things that plagued his young, impressionable mind.

Poor Dylan 🥺

“Your dad sounds like he was a real great guy.” If Jake had rolled his eyes any harder, he probably would have fallen over from the force. “Not really,” Dylan sighed. His entire demeanour changed in the blink of an eye. “I think he’s the reason why my mums in trouble now.” Jake had to take a second to take in the sadness that plastered itself across Dylan’s face.

Goo god Jake take the poor boy seriously!

Dylan immediately leaned against Jake for support as he tried to find the willpower not to cry. His dad had always told him emotions were for women.

Knowing that Jake was raised the same makes me wanna cry...Please boys, just cry and let it out!! I have consoled crying boys and men and it's honesty nothing to be ashamed about! Probably also the reason I often start crying because someone else is, just so they don't feel to bad about it lol

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t respect boundaries all that often, isn’t it?” Jake grumbled to himself as he unlocked the front door and made his way into your home.

Jake is giving zero fucks

But the way your top had been ripped to shreds had him seeing red. The way you sat there almost completely exposed to the three men all standing around your living room like they were about to play pass the parcel made his blood boil. Jake had never seen you look so scared. So defenceless. So broken before.

🥺🥺🥺

“Gentleman, I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement here?” Jake asked as he walked further into your living room. Soon enough he had a gun facing towards him. A direct aim to his chest. That wasn’t enough to deter him, not when your son was currently hiding out in his bedroom. Not when you were clearly three seconds away from becoming a living sex toy.

The fighter pilot training truly comes in handy in a moment like this to stay this calm...

“She’s everything I’ve ever wanted and more,” Jake confessed. At first, you thought it was the possible concussion making you hear things. But when he followed up? You knew it was really Jake speaking as blood dripped down the side of your face. “She’s the first person I think about in the morning and the last at night, so please, don’t hurt her,” Jake pleaded as he struggled in the confines of the henchman’s grip.

Jake, we gonna have to work on the timing of a love confession buddy 🥺😭

“Take me instead, let her go and she’ll get the money you want.” Jake never took his eyes off you as he spoke. “I’ll stay with you until she does, pretty sure I’d be worth a couple hundred thousand for you guys anyway?” There he was again, back to being the Jake you knew him to be. “What’s a bisexual naval aviator go for on the dark web these days?”

This paragraph, damn. First the severity of the situation and Jake offering himself up in exchange and then his nonchalant and witty comment is this dire situation 🫠 and also bisexual Jake ftw!! 💙💜🩷

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” Jake smiled as he was draped past you, bleeding profusely from his thigh. “I got you,” Jake rushed to get his words out as he was dragged further and further away from where you were still tied to your chair. “Dylans safe, so are you.”

Day 12 [The Guy Next Door]

Summary: When your son shows up on Jake's door scared and all alone, he soon realises that something might be wrong at his neighbour's home.

Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!reader. Mentions of sexual assault. Forced sexual acts. Gun violence. Blood. Self-sacrifice.

Word Count: 4k

Whumptober Prompt Day Thirteen: Whumpee using themself as bait, defiance, “Take me instead.”

Author Note: Please make sure you read the warnings provided. Disclaimer: I do not condone nor endorse the actions that are written about during the month of October. These works of fiction are just that, fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for this year's prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Your husband used to say in his drunken rambles late at night, ‘When you live, live in clover, ‘cause when you’re dead, you’re dead all over.’ But much like your late husband was, the clover is traditionally, an opportunistic weed. Sure, the clover is seen as a good luck charm in many cultures across the globe. But in your experience, it was only ever a weed that grew and took hold of everything in its path. Destroying an array of vast beauty you never thought you’d get back.

Until the weed died…and your garden began to grow once again. But what do weeds typically do? They grow back. Even in death, your husband had managed to screw you once more. He’d left you in hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt to some guy he knew from ‘work’. Some guy who thought he could collect the debt even after your weasel of a husband had died a not-so-unfortunate death.

Some guy who had already made it abundantly clear that if you didn’t pay off the debt owing…You and your son would eventually be reunited with your husband. Permanently.

That was six months ago, and you still hadn’t paid up.

“Mr. Jake!” It was the panic in the little boy’s voice that got Jake’s attention first. “Mr Jake, Mr Jake! Are you home?” Next, it was the way the knocking didn’t falter. It was an unrelenting assault of young knuckles against the wooden surfaces of Jake Seresin’s front door. “Mr. Jake! I need help!”

Jake Seresin had been your neighbour for around four months. In that time you’d grown as close as neighbours could. He’d often mow your lawn in the afternoon Miramar sun. You’d cook enough food for three so that when Jake inevitably stayed for dinner, there was enough to go around and then some.

“I’m not the relationship type, Darlin, so don’t get too attached.”

But someone had grown attached. Your son, Dylan.

“Mr. Jake!!” The pounding was relentless as Jake padded down the hall toward his front door. The man had been enjoying a beer or two in the warmth of a steaming shower. The last thing he wanted to be doing on his day off was dealing with a pest the size of a seven-year-old who wanted to play catch down the side. “Mr. Jake! Help!”

“Kid, I swear to god you’re about to lose that fist if you don’t knock it off,” Jake answered the door with a huff and a scowl across his usually shit-eating face. “What? What do you want? I'm busy.” Sure, Jake could have been nicer, but as he held the towel around his waist and dripped onto his freshly cleaned hardwood flooring, he realised he didn’t actually give a shit. But what came out of your son’s mouth next had Jake’s heart racing with adrenaline he only ever felt when he was in the cockpit.

“My mum’s in trouble Mr. Jake,” Dylan explained as he rubbed his raw knuckles from bagging on his neighbour’s door for so long. “There’s some guys in our house that are trying–trying to hurt her and I need help!” Dylan explained as he began to sob. His emotions got the better of him after the adrenaline of running over without hesitation had started to diminish in his seven-year-old nervous system.

Tears welled in Dylan’s lower lash lines as Jake leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his dripping and exposed chest, with a frown prominent across his face.

“Are you sure it’s not just one of your mum’s boyfriends, kid?” Jake sighed as he tried to process what your son was telling him. Dylan was a good kid. Jake didn’t mind the boy.. For a seven-year-old, he was able to hold a decent conversation most of the time.

It didn’t take Jake long at all to figure out that Dylan was one of those kids who had no choice but to grow up fast. Jake didn’t know everything, but you had told him about your late husband. How he wasn’t the best guy in town. One night while you shared a bottle of wine, or three, with Jake, you’d confided in him about the fact you often thought you were a horrible person for not missing him. Clayton was, at the end of the day, Dylan’s father.

In the time Jake had known you, he’d rarely ever seen you have friends besides him around the house. He’d seen a few big, burley men come and go. But they never stayed long enough to warrant concern. Jake wasn’t the jealous type either. He was more than happy to fill his roster with someone else if you were already busy with another guy.

But maybe those men weren’t there for the reason Jake had originally thought.

“Okay,” Jake sighed reluctantly. “Get in here before someone sees you.” Jake manhandled Dylan as he dragged him into his home via the kid’s collar. “I want you to hide in my bedroom with the door closed,” Jake instructed the kid who was just trying to keep up with Jake as they walked down the hall. “You don’t answer the front door to anyone, you don’t leave this room unless me–” Jake pointed to himself “–or your mother comes to get you, got it?”

“What if I need to pee?” Dylan asked as he sat on the edge of Jake’s bed, watching as he threw on an old T-shirt that had been lying on the floor. The same one he had taken off before his shower.

“Piss your pants for all I care, just don’t leave this room,” Jake growled back at the kid who had somewhat grown on him. But Jake couldn’t let him know that, could he? “Use the bathroom genius, just stay in the damn house.” There was a silence that followed as Jake looked around for a pair of shorts or jeans or something he could wear that wasn’t a white bath towel. His mind was racing a million miles an hour trying to think of a logical explanation as to why your son was banging on his door saying you were in trouble.

“What are there naked ladies on in this magazine?” Jake froze as he looked over his shoulder to see your son looking through an old magazine Jake had left out. He normally wasn’t the magazine type of guy. But when the urge hits…

“Did your mother ever tell you not to look through other people’s belongings?” Jake snatched the magazine out of your son’s hand as he zipped his jeans up.

“Yeah, but my dad taught me that if people are stupid enough to leave their stuff lying around, then it’s fair game,” Dylan replied almost too quickly for Jake’s liking. Like he was prepared with that one before he even asked his initial question.

“Your dad sounds like he was a real great guy.” If Jake had rolled his eyes any harder, he probably would have fallen over from the force.

“Not really,” Dylan sighed. His entire demeanour changed in the blink of an eye. “I think he’s the reason why my mums in trouble now.” Jake had to take a second to take in the sadness that plastered itself across Dylan’s face. He was scared, that much was for sure. But scared of what exactly?

“Right,” Jake huffed as he tussled Dylan’s hair. “Don’t move, got it?”

“I won’t Mr Jake,” Dylan replied as he nodded in response, still sitting on the corner of Jake’s unmade bed. “Thanks for helping my mum, she says you’re a good friend and I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Your mum said that about me?” Jake asked as he raised an eyebrow. His hands fell to his hips as he watched your son nod. His tear-stained cheeks caused Jake to frown more than he’d care to admit. This kid had somehow managed to weasel his way into Jake’s life in a way Jake never expected. He wasn’t the greatest role model, that was clear. But something told Jake that Dylan hadn’t been exposed to the best either.

“Yeah, she likes you, I can tell,” Dylan snitched on you like he was getting paid. “Mum doesn’t have a lot of friends.”

“Any reason why?” Jake didn’t want to pry, but he

“She says the more people she lets in, the more people can get hurt.”

“What’s your mum got herself caught up in, kid?” Jake sighed as he sat down beside Dylan on his bed. The mattress dipped a little more with Jake’s added body weight. Dylan immediately leaned against Jake for support as he tried to find the willpower not to cry.

His dad had always told him emotions were for women.

“I dunno,” Dylan sniffled as he dried his tears. “I just know that the men who came over aren’t nice and they want her money.”

“She owes someone money?”

“I think Dad did, but he’s dead,” Jake sometimes wished his dad had died a lot sooner than he did. There was a common ground there. Jake was also brought up on the ideology that emotions were his greatest weakness. He had watched his mother suffer for years. It was one of the reasons why he swore he’d never marry, never settle down. Jake didn’t want to be like his father. Listening to Dylan talk about his dad so flippantly made Jake wonder if Dylan felt the same way. “So I don’t know why they still want it.”

“Money doesn’t lose value like that, unfortunately,” Jake sighed as he connected the dots. He stood once again and tousled Dylan’s hair in the process. “Go through my shit and you’ll have bigger problems to deal with, understand?” Jake growled as he headed to the front door. Looking back over his shoulder to see Dylan settling further into Jake’s bed.

“I heard you the first time,” Dylan replied. Jake’s jaw nearly hit the hardwood flooring of his own house. Who did this kid think he was? “Thank you, Mr Jake.” Jake’s near rage dissipated within his chest when he heard the change-up of attitude almost immediately.

“Yeah yeah,” Jake sighed. He knew deep down that this really couldn’t be good. But there was still a large part of him that begged to ask the question, was this his problem? “The things I get myself into.” He mumbled to himself as he left the comfort of his humble abode on his one day off.

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

“Wheres our fucking money Y/n?” Liam asked as he sat in the lounge chair across from the dining table chair you’d been tied to. “We’ve been more than patient with you given the circumstances,” None of this was realistically your fault. It was your late husband’s debt these guys were after.

“I’ve told you!” You tried to explain again for the hundredth time. “I’ve been saving, I’ve only got a couple thousand saved but it’s in the tin can above the fridge, take it all.”

Your husband had been a compulsive gambler. He bet your house on a game of blackjack one weekend and lost it all. He’d sold your belongings out from under you, used money for your son’s school fees and borrowed way more money than he could ever afford to pay back in his lifetime.

So he killed himself and left that debt to you. Weed. But when in clover, right?

“We’re past forgiving overdue debt,” Liam sighed. He was over hearing the same thing time and time again. “You owe us money, end of story.”

“Please, you know I had nothing to do with my husband’s affairs,” You tried to plead with the man who’d been on you for the last few months like a bad rash. “I can give you what I have, but I need more time!”

“Time is money, Miss. Y/l/n and I am a very busy man,” Liam replied with a sinister smirk smeared across his rugged face. “If you can’t pay up, you’ll just have to work off your debt.”

“We did just lose that one girl boss,” One of Liam’s henchmen chuckled as he moved your hair to one side over your shoulder. “She might be the perfect replacement?” Your skin crawled as the man’s fingertips trailed across your collarbone.

You strained against your restraints, trying every which way you could to get away from his touch and out of the chair you’d been tied to. But it was to no avail, you were tied down and tied down hard. The rope burned against your wrists, ankles and waist as you wriggled around. They’d surely leave marks for days, but that was the least of your problems right now.

“Might make us more money too,” Liam eyed you off as he leaned forward on his knees. “Bet it’s been a while since this widow got a good workout in, might have to take her for a test myself.”

“I have a son, please, I don’t know why my husband did what he did but his actions shouldn’t be mine to pay the price for!” You were sobbing. Tears streamed down your cheeks taking your not-so-waterproof mascara with them. “I’m begging you–”

“Good thing I like when they beg,” Liam snickered as he stood with a groan. “Let’s see what kinda merchandise we’re working with here,” The next few moments were tortuous. Far too many hands were all over your vulnerable body. “Let’s get a good look at you.” Tearing at articles of clothing to reveal more exposed skin as you screamed and pleaded with them to stop. Your breasts were out on full display by the time there was a knock at the door followed by an all too familiar voice.

“Y/n, open up yeah?” Jake knocked his knuckles against your front door as he whipped the bottoms of his shoes on the doormat. “Also, you might have to have the birds and the bees talk a lot earlier than expected, just a hunch.” Jake knew there was probably something going on inside, your son had been really spooked. But in true Jake Seresin style, he was gonna be a pain where he could be. He never made anything easy on anyone.

“Who the fucks that?” Liam asked as he grabbed your face. His fingertips squeezed against your cheeks as he looked you dead in the eye and held a gun to your temple. Things were escalating to new highs far too quickly. This was bad. Very bad.

“That’s just my neighbour,” You mumbled with fear laced in your words. “ He–”

“Tell him, to go the fuck home before I put a bullet in your thigh and fuck your face to see if you can really work off your pathetic excuse for a husband’s debt you weak fucking, bitch.” The way Liam spoke to you. The way he threatened you. The way his henchman all laughed as your visible tears and panic made you believe him without a shadow of a doubt. He was going to make you work off your husband’s debt against your will.

“Jake, not now, I have company!” You tried to conceal the worry in your tone, but Jake caught onto it right away. He bend down to reach for the spare hidden key under the fake ass rock he had told you time and time again to hide better.

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t respect boundaries all that often, isn’t it?” Jake grumbled to himself as he unlocked the front door and made his way into your home. The first thing Jake noticed as he walked in was how furniture had been knocked over every which way. He saw the smashed photo frame of you and your son.

The light switch for hanging light above the entrance had been bashed in. Your TV had been knocked over. And all of a sudden, Jake took inventory of the way his heart rate accelerated to new highs never felt as he saw you tied to a dining table chair in the middle of your living room. His heart rate had never even been this rapid when he was approaching ten G-forces.

Damn, Dylan had been right on the money about there being bad guys in your home, hadn’t he?

“What’s going on here?” Jake asked as he slowly walked into plain sight. He had no intention of hiding. He wanted you to know he was there to help, come hell or high water.

“None of your concern,” Liam growled as he made sure to unclip the safety on his gun, still pointing it down towards your thigh. “Now, bet it before you become collateral damage buddy.”

“Jake,” You tried to warn him. “It’s alright, these are just some of my husband’s friends.” The fake smile you gave him broke Jake’s heart. He wasn’t sure what mess you’d managed to get yourself into. Or better yet, what mess your husband had left you behind to clean up. But what Jake knew for sure was that he wasn’t leaving without you.

“We had a deal, she didn’t pay up, a debt is a debt,” Liam explained as simply as he could. “Now get the fuck out before you start taking your final breaths through your chest.” Two more guns were now being held up in Jake’s direction. He could hear his heart in his ears as he held his hands in the air up beside his head.

“Wow, wow wow, I don’t want the smoke,” He teased. “What’s the debt? I’ll write a check?” It was the first thing Jake could think of that might help de-escalate an incredibly serious situation he truly wasn’t equipped to handle. “A couple thousand should do it, yeah?”

The choir of laughter that erupted around you was enough to have your tears streaming down your cheeks faster than they ever had been. You were screwed. Jake was a deadman walking and your son was about to become an orphan.

“Try two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” Liam gave Jake the number he was after. The look Jake gave you told you all you needed to know. He didn’t have that kind of money. Which was quite ironic when you think about it because neither did you. “You have that in cash?” Liam pressed as he stepped closer to where Jake stood. “Because if not, I suggest you turn tail and get the fuck out of my goddamn sight.”

“She should sell for at least three–” One of the henchmen you didn’t even know, added. “We’ll make a profit after that piece of shit failed to repay the money we so generously loaned him.”

Jake’s mind was racing a million miles an hour. He couldn’t let these guys do this. He couldn’t let them take you. No one deserved this, but you especially didn’t. You’d been through so much already. You needed someone in your corner now more than ever. Jake wasn’t the relationship type, but he had a decent moral compass.

“What if I go with you and you give Y/n here more time to come up with the money?” Jake offered a counteroffer.

“Jake!” You pleaded before a pistol was making contact with your temple. The sheer force was enough to blind you for a few seconds as your neck was barely able to support your head.

“HEY!” Jale growled as he took strides towards you, only to be stopped by the two henchmen. One on each arm. “Please, don’t hurt her.” For a moment Jake had dropped his facade. He wasn’t the relationship kinda guy, but you sometimes made that the hardest rule to follow. “She’s–” Jake didn’t know how to explain what you meant to him. You; ‘d never spoken about what the two of you really were.

“She’s what? Loverboy?” Lima laughed in Jake’s face as he stood right before the detained aviator. “A gambler’s wife? A soon-to-be whore? A cum dumpster?” There was a second of silence that passed while Jake tried to figure out what he was about to say next. “Come on? What is she?”

“Jake–” You groaned.

“Shut the fuck up,” Liam spat and he shot Jake straight through his thigh.

“Ahhh fuck!”

“Jake!” You screamed as he crumbled to his knees before you. Bleeding a crimson red into the carpet. “No, no this isn't his problem to fix!” You begged as you thrashed against your restraints.

“You have thirty days, or he’s fish food,” Liam growled as his men dragged Jake across the carpet heading towards your front door. “Thirty days, get me my fucking money!!”

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

189 notes · View notes

oppressed-booze-cruiser · 2 years ago

Text

I made a short story in about an hour and a half, I wanna get better at creative writing and short stories so please give me some critiques if possible!

=================================

She finally gathered the strength and courage to move, she slowly backed away from the pumpkin, nearly breaking down in fear. She got to the phone hanging on the wall and dialed 1-8-0-0-4-1-1-7-2-4-6, “No, the commercial said 911 first” she thought to herself, she hung up and tried again 9-1-1 the phone didn’t ring as it normally does, rather, it let out a sad, monotone buzz. “The pumpkin” she thought to herself “it must have cut the line”. She ran out of the kitchen, locking the door on the way out. She could have sworn she heard a voice laughing at her as she ran to her bedroom.When she arrived she knew that if there was any hope of surviving she had to get help and the only other phone in the house was in her bedroom. She clambered up the stairs and tripped on the last step.

Almost instantly she was up and running again, this time faster than she had ever ran before. She ran through her bedroom doorway slamming the door shut, the impact of the wood sounded like it could have shattered stone as if it were glass. She fumbled with the lock, it was as if her hands where made of butter. Once the door was locked she grabbed the phone and began to dial 9-1-2, wrong, 9-8-1, wrong, 1-9-8-4, once again, wrong, finally she got it right, 9-1-1, the phone made the same sad noise as the one in the kitchen. She was crushed, defeated, any sense of hope she had was gone and replaced with an immense dread and a slight craving for chicken parmesan.

After some time, although the exact amount of time was hard to determine, she finally decided to confront that hellish gourd. She bolted to the attic in a rush. The pumpkin, that vile gourd, was still in the kitchen, it had not moved since it had been placed there. It sat emotionless and effectively nonexistent. She entered the attic and attempted to turn on the light, “come on” she said, vigorously pulling the cord. Nothing. She stumbled through the near pitch black attic. After some stumbling she found it, her dad's old shotgun, right behind some cheap beer and a copy of the 1987 july issue of “day drinkin’ the magazine for alcoholics with style”. She grabbed the gun and stumbled her way out of the attic. After quite some stumbling, she creeped down the stars, each step she felt more and more fear for what was to come.

She pushed through the living room, down the hall, and arrived at the kitchen door. The door loomed over her as if it where 100 feet tall, she stood still for a moment and thought to herself “what if i don't make it out, what if i die, what if that accursed pumpkin gets me” with a deep sigh she pulled herself together and said, under her breath, “i'll just have to kill it first”. She racked the shotgun violently and kicked the door open. It was as if it all happened in slow motion, she swung herself to face the pumpkin, adjusted herself, and pulled the trigger. *Click*. She didn’t load any shells into the shotgun. The pumpkin looked at her as if to mock her powerlessness, her mistake, her foolishness. She grabbed a knife and began stabbing into the pumpkin. The gourd that had caused her so much distress was now not but a pile of seeds and mush. She fell to the floor, sobbing at what she had just done, the pumpkin mush still fresh on her knife. she felt so conflicted on what to do now, was she a murderer, a killer, would she go to jail. After what felt like a lifetime she gathered herself and disposed of the pumpkin goo into her trash can. She spent the rest of her night watching tv to take her mind off of the disgusting deed she had just committed. The next morning she went to check her mail, there was a notice for a missed phone bill, an offer for a new credit card, and a small letter with nothing on it but her address, and a pumpkin stamp.

#writing

0 notes

wannaeatramyeon · 1 year ago

Note

Wanna do some small research of what characters favorite ice cream flavor?

I somehow think Gun is Vanilla or green tea flavor type of guy. Surprisingly.

Then Goo is Chocolate or some weird combination flavor type of ice cream.

Saaaaam, I've been putting this off because I don't wanna research ice cream. But I will give you this Gun + Goo crack fic. Which also lets you know their ice cream preference.

PLEASE ACCEPT THIS OFFERING INSTEAD

Gun Park + Goo Kim: Ice Cream

More silly shenanigans

"What's that?" Goo asks, face inches from Gun's hand.

It is very clearly ice cream. Scooped round and placed in a little cardboard cup. There was even a mini spoon to boot. Nothing adventurous about it. Gun doesn't bother to respond, choosing to ignore him altogether.

They walk along for a few more paces, a few precious moments of peace before it is broken by the most obnoxious whine.

"Where's mine?" the blonde sulks and Gun's fist twitches. It would be so easy to reach out and smack his face.

Gun had asked. He had very specifically asked if Goo wanted anything, out of some misplaced goodwill, and he replied that ice cream hurts his teeth.

Technically he didn't explicity say no, but was that supposed to be some riddle Gun had to decipher? Some childish little game? Well he wants no part of it.

Goo doesn't let up, bizarrely invested and halting them both.

"What flavour is it? Is it vanilla?"

Inching closer, as if it was something worthy of inspection, "It looks like vanilla."

Nose now almost touching and taking a deep inhale, "Smells like vanilla."

"Maybe tastes like vanilla?" Goo darts forward to take a chomp just as Gun whips it out of reach and shoves his head aside.

"Let me have some!"

Gun looks at Goo, lip curling. Absolutely no fucking way. "Get your own."

"Please?"

"No."

"Hmph. Fine."

Gun keeps an eye on him, in case he tries anything. After a few more moments, his partner's attention seemingly elsewhere, he takes his first bite.

There it is.

"Fuck you." Goo deadpans.

Gun, distracted, with a spoonful halfway to his mouth gives Goo the opportunity he is looking for.

The tub, cupped casually in his palm and grip slack, is slapped with overwhelming force.

It flies through the air, content spilling, and lands with a splat over 20ft away.

As the final insult to injury, Gun doesn't taste the remaining spoonful. The violent smack offsetting the intended trajectory, ice cream sliding off and falling onto his shirt instead.

Then, melting quickly, it drips down onto his shoe.

"I don't even like ice cream!" Goo cackles after watching everything unfold. As if this has all led to the funniest punchline ever.

Gun glances down at his spoon. That would probably hurt if it was jammed into an orifice somewhere. He's usually prefers bare knuckles, but this would do. It feels right.

Readjusting his grip and now holding it like a weapon, "I'm going to kill you."

#good vanilla is GOD TIER #lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism fic #lookism hc #lookism headcanon #lookism x reader #lookism fanfic #gun park #goo kim #park jonggun #kim joongoo #wannaeatramyeon

118 notes · View notes

eremin0109 · 4 years ago

Text

Okay I’m bout to be annoying so please deal with me for a sec here—

So after the wedding is well behind them and settling into a routine married life, Dean and Cas hunt together way more often than before as Sam and Eileen have decided to focus more on taking after Bobby. And they fit together like puzzle pieces, just moving so seamlessly together as if they’ve been doing this forever.

Dean gives Cas a shit-eating smile every time they burst a vampire nest or some other ancient monster together, and Cas can only roll his eyes fondly in response. Dean is even spared the research most of the time because Castiel predates almost every monster they hunt and is a walking archive of knowledge. Despite being restored to full power by Jack, Cas decides to learn the traditional hunting ways, lets Dean teach him shooting a gun and talking his way through people for information. And almost every time they talk to someone for a case, the other person asks them whether they’re together(judging by the matching wedding rings on their fingers) and Dean and Cas both blush, while just moving along the topic with a soft affirmation.

Dean still calls Cas ‘buddy/bud/dude/man/pal’ because that’s his love language. There will be the occasional ‘sweetheart and honey and even angel’ but that’s mostly when both of them are in the privacy of their bedroom. Or just feeling generally lovey-dovey. But some random dudebro or cop takes it to mean that they’re just “pLaToNiC mAtEs” and tells them that he’s got a best friend like that too. And Dean just rolls his eyes while staring the person right into the face. “He’s my partner. Yeah, yeah the gay kind. Problem?” And the person just stares at them in disbelief but also sputter and goes quiet. Cas is sorta pleased at that.

Also after a particularly bloody hunt, both Dean and Cas are covered in goo and viscera. Cas offers to clean up Dean with his mojo but Dean stops him and doesn’t even let Cas clean himself up because he just wants a reason for them to shower together even though they’re literally married now and Dean doesn’t need a freaking reason to shower with Cas. And what else can Cas the long-suffering-angel do but agree to this ridiculous proposition made by his dear husband??

#destiel #destiel is canon #castiel #dean winchester #castiel winchester #supernatural #casdean #deancas #destiel wedding #the wedding of the century #happy married life #to THE couple #they deserve all this and more #greatest love story ever told

106 notes · View notes

ringmyheart · 4 years ago

Note

Hey was wondering if I could get something for lookism characters with an older s/o, like they're 3-4 older. Please do goo, Jake kim and Scott kwon.

Good luck with the blog🤩🤩🤩

Goo Kim

When you get into the relationship, of course he knows ur age and that you’re a few years older than him, and at first he doesn’t mention it but once ur like just a little bit closer he’s probably gonna poke fun at the fact

Because there’s nothing wrong w u being older it’s just that in all the stereotypical or general movies or shows or books it’s like the older person in the relationship is usually the like stronger or more providing person ends up being the oldest in the relationship and ur not useless in the relationship at all but he’s out there like killing ppl and raking in thousands a day at like 19 😭

If ur walking around in public and someone stares at u for a little longer or one of the ten geniuses is looking at u just casually he’ll get up in their face and b like “whaaat?! Do you know who you’re staring at? That’s your elder over there!! Show some respect!!”

He definitely sends u cringy texts like “how’s my favorite 21 year old 😍😍😍😍” and it’s clearly somewhat condescending but he means it endearingly simultaneously

If u don’t know something that he asks u he’ll raise a brow and go “really? A four year head start and u can’t tell me that 🤨” and it’s all good fun but he’s always gonna say stuff like that

And this is all unprompted, if he knows ur actually kinda like insecure for whatever reason that ur older than him, maybe bc he’s already getting cash like crazy at his age, he’ll either start making fun of u relentlessly OR if ur serious about it he’ll cut it out of course and never mention it again. He might try to make u feel better by being like “don’t worry!! Physically and mentally im probably years older than you 😘” and it doesn’t really make u feel better probably but he kind of tries

It’s honestly no big deal to him what ur age is, but if he knows u don’t like him mentioning it so much he will bc he likes to be annoying LMAO and whenever u accomplish something he’ll be like “did u see what my s/o did?! My 21/22yr old s/o?! At their old age they’re still kicking it!!” And ur in NO means old but he just wants to strike a nerve in u and fight in public for fun

But when u put him joking about it aside, it really doesn’t mean anything in the relationship honestly. He doesn’t feel like there’s a certain way for things to go nd just goes about things normally, and he doesn’t really see people older than him as wiser or anytning so he’s not gonna like go to you for advice or ask you to figure things out for him just bc ur older

And honestly u don’t even need a job anymore bc ur gonna b together for a long time and he makes SOOO much money so if u hate ur job or college u have the opportunity to do what u want in life without worrying ab the pay bc he makes it all for u

And yeah he’s pretty stingy w money besides being filthy rich but when or if u need it he’ll give it to u ofc and he wants u to pursue what u like too so he’ll even go to ur job or college and just inform them “btw (y/n) isn’t gonna work here anymore” for u and gets u a job as whatever u want. He beats up ur boss so u can get promoted or something but if u ask about it he’ll deny it anyways and it’s like who else would beat tf out of my boss and he shrugs

Or if u like ur current job or college he’ll threaten the school or ur boss LMAO and have them give u more money or make u pay less or promote u

Even tho ur older than him he sees himself as the like leader of u two ?? Like he’s a really joke-y guy on the exterior but behind the scenes he is doing all the like hard stuff so u don’t have to. Like he sees it as he helps u and if u never offer much help or advice he doesn’t gaf, it’s like he helps u and in return he gets u LMAO

If u like ur job or college, don’t wanna quit and don’t want him threatening ur superiors he is like the number one customer of u guys

Like if u r working retail or as a cashier he is always going to that store nd buying stuff nd funding ur business and he gets chairman choi to do so too

Or he’ll just buy ur company or college LMFAO and suddenly sales r booming and u don’t know why r ur classes r so much easier

Yeah ur older than him and the twelve geniuses but he doesn’t let u near them 😐 he doesn’t want u to be a part of that type of business and honestly keeps u away from it besides maybe gun bc he’s always around him but that’s it

Like he doesn’t want u anywhere near his business or that type of stuff and if ur curios about it he says “u will understand when ur my age” or something LMAO so u will stop asking. It’s like the 1 time he’s suddenly rlly serious

If anyone else mentions how ur older than him in a demeaning way he’ll def be mad it’s like HE can make fun of u but no one else can, like ever. He will fight them nd win even if it’s just on the street or something

He’s threatened like two of ur friends behind ur back bc they made fun of u once and u mentioned it LMAO

He makes u do taxes (does he even do taxes ????? LMFAO) but if he does he makes u do them bc suddenly he thinks ur so much smarter and wiser

If he’s in a rut and needs ur help and it’s something dumb like he lost something he’ll b like “cmooon ur so much smarter than me ��😩 ur like 21 u would know this for sure” to make u do it and he uses flattery

None of the ten geniuses know ur name bc he’s tryna keep u safe lol

If ur ever in a situation somehow vaguely similar to one he’s in and he needs help on it he’ll ask u what u did, and if u say something surprisingly smart or wise he’ll be kinda surprised bc I feel like he’s cocky and doesn’t think others can help him that much but u do

But overall, it means nothing to him and it doesn’t matter how much older u r he’s still gonna feel like the protector

Jake Kim

It REALLY means nothing to him. Like he honestly never mentions it and ur like does he even know??? Bc a guy like him who’s like a leader of a whole enterprise type thing gang usually seems like he’d wanna be the elder in a relationship so ur like “... u know I’m like 4yrs older than u right?”

And he’s like “...yeah? Was that important or something?” And just blinks at u so ur like ... never mind

Honestly he probably makes u a bank account and puts money in it to surprise u on ur birthday or something like a little fund thing and he has a bank account on the side for u that has like thousands of dollars

If u ever feel bad or weird that ur older than him bc he is so successful and younger than u, he wonders why it even matters??? Who gaf??? And he’ll just hug u or something and is like pls don’t even worry about that... wth

If u ever feel petty bc he’s so much more successful than u bc it’s like when u have a hobby that u love and then a kid ends up being so much better at it than u but SO much worse bc he has like millions at like 19 💀 then he’s like okay but it’s OUR little enterprise now since we r together to assure u. He’s not cocky about it at all

But he won’t offer for u to join or try and help him out in making money even if he’s got to or it’s vital bc he also doesn’t want u involved w Big Deal at ALLLLLLL either, u could literally b like the smartest person in the world but once ur his s/o he probably doesn’t want u involved in his business at all

He does assume ur kind of wiser than him bc of ur age, so he’ll ask u for help or advice more often

Tbh regardless in a relationship he probably doesn’t leave any work for u to do like he does everything the financial stuff the living stuff everything so it doesn’t matter if ur older than him or if u see it as ur responsibility bc of that he’s still gonna bring in the money for y’all

Like he’s gonna take care of everything even if ur older so there’s no pressure for u to “act ur age”

Never brings up the fact that ur older than him, but maybe once in a fight it got bad and he yelled “ffs ur 21 u should know better than this!!” And that hurt ur feelings or something so from then on he just never ever mentioned it

And when others mention it he makes a cut throat motion like “stfu😡” bc he took it as u not liking ur age being brought up rather than u not liking it being held against u but it’s still kinda sweet how he tries to preserve ur feelings sm

If ur in college or something, he tries to help u w hw and stuff and he’s rlly educationally smart I think like he might’ve gotten bad grades but he understands quickly

And eventually he’s just doing ur hw for u LMAO

One time he probably accidentally wrote “Jake Kim” on the top of ur hw and u had to explain to ur professor why that happened

If u work, he probably also bribes ur boss or something to give u a raise and promotion or if u wanna move jobs but r scared of the low pay he feels like it’s a dumb fear bc he is clearly rich af, like u probably don’t even need a job 😭😭

Ur allowed to since ur in ur 20s legally but he doesn’t like or doesn’t let u go around casinos bc he’s seen firsthand how bad gambling is and he has the money to compensate if u ever get into gambling and lose a lot but he just doesn’t want u to feel guilty or get addicted

Like if u pass a casino and wanna go in and r like hey wanna check it out he just grabs ur hand and keeps walking and is like “let’s not” and probably asks u at one point to pls not get into gambling

If ur kinda petty bc he’s so much better at fighting than u despite being younger he’s like u don’t even need to fight I can literally do that for u???? Bc he feels like the only reason U would ever need to fight is to protect urself so if u wanna do it for fun he’ll teach u but doesn’t take it that srsly

He maybe made like one joke ab ur age or sent u a meme he saw ab relationships but u left him on read and it was just a bad joke or something but yeah overall he really refrains from bringing up ur age like ever 😭😭

He thinks ur insecure bc ur getting older or something and that’s y so he might start going like “looking youthful today 😀👍” every morning to u and ur like oh hehe thanks ????????

If someone else ever voices that they think it’s weird ur older than him he’ll fight them too like first he’ll go “(y/n), is this ur friend ?” Like he did w jiho and if ur like no he’s like oh :)) and then punches them or something

Doesn’t tell u stuff ab his business and ur like I’m 20-23 I can handle it and he just refuses anyways and will leave u in the dark bc yk won’t even risk it

Someone in Big Deal might be like “use ur s/o to help us work nd get money since they’re old they seem professional” he kicked them out immediately ur not touching that shit

But generally, he doesn’t care about it at all, and honestly just cares ab u and not ur age

Scott Kwon

He definitely uses u to get into places only ppl 20+ can enter LMAOO

He’ll have u walk in first and then slip in past u and if he gets caught he grabs u and goes “THIS is my s/o!!! They’re clearly of age, and I’m their s/o so clearly I am of age too 😤😤”

Ur banned from like 50 bars because of this like there’s a little “if these two come and ask u to enter their bar DO NOT LET THEM ENTER!!” Wall for y’all

He might try and hide in ur coat or something to get in but it never works

He definitely makes fun of ur age in a cocky way like haha... an older person wanted to get with ME. Little old me. And he feels like hot stuff bc of it for sure

Brags about it a lot like will take out ur photo and goes “u see this?? My s/o?? Yeah they’re in love w me and THREE YRS OLDER... hold ur applause guys” and it boosts his ego sm

He sends u scarily recent memes or jokes on the internet ab older s/o’s if there r any, and eventually when u go on his Instagram at least 1/3rd of his feed is just ageist jokes

If it really hurts ur feelings, he won’t tell any jokes ab it and won’t mention it ever again but will continue to utilize ur age to do things he can’t at age 18-19

He feels proud that he’s making sm money and is such a good fighter despite being younger than u bc he feels like it makes u look up to him so he’ll boast about it like he’ll punch something and go see that babe????? I can do that and I’m only 19!!! And ur like omg that’s so cooollll!!!!! <3 and his heart just swells

Pays for anything u want like buys u everything u ask for or just look at tbh, and also feels like u have no responsibility just bc ur older and seees himself as like the “leader” if the relationship and has a sense of duty to helping u and everything

Steers u away from trouble ASAP too it doesn’t matter if u can hold off on ur own, if he sees guys that just look mean he and u r walking the other way and ur like bro what?? And he just lies and is like I liked the sunset this direction or smmn and he doesn’t confide in u ab scary things

Bc yeah u can probably handle scary or threatening news but he’s not gna risk it regardless

If he’s rlly stressed ab something that can’t endanger u he won’t tell u that much ab it but might vaguely describe his predicament and looks to u for help and comfort and u just listen and he feels so much better afterwards and he’s telling u all this and ur just like mhm uh-huh :) and so he starts confiding in u more

But ruins it by going like “damn old ppl r good listeners 😆” and ur like STOPPPPPPP

Everyone in God Dog knows ur name age face and occupation bc he’s always talking ab u LMAO

When he was younger and didn’t have that much leniency with the law he made u his legal guardian so he can do what he wants and he tries to use u to get him to do stuf by pointing to u and going “they’re my legal guardian and they say I can drink all this!!” And ur like “no I absolutely do not???!!!!!” And he thought by doing that he’d get anytning but u prioritize his health 🙄 and he’s annoyed but secretly loves it and loves u doting on him nd worrying ab him and his well-being lol

In general, he rlly doesn’t care that ur older than him. His only big concern I. A relationship ever is how he can keep u safe bc he’s in pretty like tough stuff, and he’ll make fun of u but in all good fun and loves u sm

Thank you for the request, and thanks for the wish of luck <3 I’ll the my best w this blog!! I’m not that good at writing for Jake Kim, btw, because his character can kinda confuse me sometimes but he seems to be popular so I hope I get more requests of him so I can get his character down and write him properly. 💘I hope this was what u wanted 😭

#Lookism x reader #Goo x reader #Scott Kwon x reader #Jake Kim x reader #Goo Kim x reader

186 notes · View notes

shebeafancyflapjack · 3 years ago

Text

Little Blue Eyes

A brief follow-up to this. Eleanor visits Michael during his reforming.

She had to hand it to Jason. If anyone had told her that it was possible to break a Janet out of Hell and get her away from an army of demons using just a Molotov, a single demon exploder gun, and a bag of weed, she’d have been very sceptical. But somehow he managed to bring their not-a-girl home, riding back in that hand-cart, grinning away as if he’d gone to a Jaguars game with her.

That was one problem dealt with. Now only a billion others to sort out.

As overjoyed as she’d been to see Janet back, safe and sound, she hadn’t been looking forward to reliving the most awful night of the year by explaining to her why their tall, dandy dressed demon wasn’t at her side, or hadn’t gone to save her.

It was easier to hand her the note that Michael had wrote (or possibly snapped into being after she slammed the door as she was sure even he couldn’t write that fast) before he’d pulled the trigger on himself.

I’m sorry.

I don’t want you to be worrying about how I might betray you or let you down again. If I’m locked up, you’re just going to worry that I’ve escaped. Just leave me in a tank on the other side of the map, or in Janet’s void if you bring her back, or just leave me in the Bad Place. If anything I just wanna ask that you make sure I’m all in there as I’d rather not come back shorter. Also if you can make sure no dogs are around to lap me up, I’d appreciate it.

I only ever wanted to save you all. I’m sorry I did nothing but screw up. I understand if you don’t want me back in the group after I’m back to normal. Please just get Janet back safe, even if it does mean going to the Judge. And give my best to Chidi when he wakes up.

I wasn’t lying about one thing; I really do love you all so much. I’m sorry it could never be enough.

Michael.

Reading the goo-stained letter with shaking hands, she’d struggled not to burst into tears of anger or throw up. Standing in the middle of the empty room, her friend dripping all around her, she’d wanted to scream at him for this being his best attempt to make things up to her - to forking leave her! To take the cowards way out.

Being angry was so much easier than accepting the guilt of what she had said to him before that moment. Of questioning if she had gone too far...if she’d just taken a moment to listen to him...Usually the dude had trouble shutting the fork up but that night, all he’d done is stand there and take everything she threw at him...until there was nothing left standing. Literally.

If she’d had any idea he would do something so reckless and stupid then of course she would never have said...

But you did know. You knew exactly what he was prepared to do to help you, if it’s what you said you needed. What you wanted.

She never wanted this, she admits to herself, barely a couple months later.

Running this experiment basically single-handed was...not overly difficult. In fact, she was pretty confident in saying they were doing okay, considering the circumstances.

But it still sucked. She was alone. Again.

Obviously there was no way she was going to have Michael’s goo abandoned in some random, isolated location. She was mad at the guy but she wasn’t a monster...so she told herself. At the same time, she couldn’t give up the role he’d thrusted upon her by suddenly taking up the role of nurse-maid, as hot as she might have looked in the uniform. He’d chosen to do this so she could work without distractions. Without a liability.

“He sacrificed himself to save me. We’re on our own now. Let’s make it count.”

Just get the fork on with things, same as before. No point in looking back.

Tahani is the one who volunteers. She’s able to separate herself from the other humans without causing too much suspicion, claiming the need for a private getaway up in the hills, deep in the valley, a hidden fancy lodge by a stream, surrounded by peaceful deer and mountains. Definitely not Eleanor’s scene, anything involving the wilderness or even resembling camping.

By the time Eleanor sees her off on a private car Derek conjured up, Michael’s goo already reached its first form. The blind, helpless demon larva showed no signs of awareness of his surroundings, curling up as small as possible, malleable as Tahani swaddled him in her fluffiest blanket. Eleanor was almost impressed at how quickly the sexy giraffe had overcome being grossed out at the slimy, squidgy creature, able to look almost maternal as she carried him into the car. And she made sure to say as much.

Tahani’s heavy hearted response would stick with Eleanor for the next few weeks; “I didn’t reassure him when he asked us if we could ever be friends with a gross monster. Best I can do is show him how much we truly care.”

Ouch. Way to kick her in the girl-nads.

“You sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ve helped out in multiple animal sanctuaries and used to fly out to work with deprived children with my dear friend Angelina...But this is definitely new territory for me.” She’d said as she looked over the larva demon, making the tiniest cooing noise in his sleep (or what they assumed was sleep). “I’ll try my best.”

That was all any of them could do. She’d contemplated attempting to speak to the larva Michael in her arms. What could she possibly say? Could he even understand her?

She was still angry. And yet it was difficult to connect the anger towards the one who abandoned her to the pathetic looking being in the blanket. Best to save all those harsh words on the tip of her tongue for when he was back to being tall and slappable.

Is he really the one you want to slap?

The question comes back to haunt her more frequently each night that follows, whenever she thinks back on that night, or wonders how the two of them are doing. She and Tahani send letters often via the birds who are happy to act as messengers. They just have to be careful none of the humans intercept them. She lets her gorgeous friend know how the experiment is going and Tahani offers her tips on how to improve John, in particular. Every time she goes to write ‘how is Michael?’ she erases it, chest tightening. Tahani tells her anything important.

The slug monster form that follows the larva is a lot more challenging, she reports. He’s now the size of a Tibetan huskie and just as hungry.

I just let him roam the fields and eat what he can find. Sometimes I have to pull him in on a leash if he doesn’t tire himself out, otherwise I worry he’ll slither off in the night. I try to talk to him but he just grunts or roars at me until I tell him off. I was a little worried he might try to eat me but I found playing music - 80′s classics, mostly - calms him down and makes him rather docile. I don’t think he knows quite who I am or remembers anything. Perhaps it’s like when Janet is rebooted? He may need time to restore his memories, as she did.

Oh, darn, I must finish - he’s in the rose bush again!

Sometimes the image of her prim socialite friend trying to restrain a two-hundred-pound slug monster is so hilarious she can’t help but laugh. Other times she feels more guilt tugging at her soul to go lend a hand.

Is Michael really little more than an animal, in his head, right now? She’s hardly proved herself the best at pet care, though it sounded like Michael overeating was the least of their worries. It pained her to imagine what his head must be going through right now. Is he scared? Confused? Lost? Does he have any emotions other than the instinct to feed?

Does he still blame himself? Does he miss her as much as she...?

The more she sits in that chair in the office, the smaller she feels. It doesn’t belong to her; she’s merely filling it in while he’s gone. She has lunch in silence, remembering the jokes they used to share, the games of trying to aim food in the others mouth across the desk. She remembers him snapping a margarita for her when he knew she needed it most. She remembers his hand on her shoulder. She remembers him finding her at her lowest point, when everyone else had doubted her, turned their backs.

She remembers him, always there. And now she’s lost him.

Was wanting him gone over a stupid lie really worth all of this?

When Jason returns with Janet, on the same day she’s hesitating whether to jump on the nearest unicorn and head towards the mountains, she takes it as a sign. She has no excuse to stay away now - not with Janet back to watch over things, though she’ll probably be paying Michael a visit soon too.

She rides up on the train Janet conjures for her, saving her from trying to figure out how to ride a unicorn without breaking her neck. Something tells her she might have more luck at taming a slug monster than her British friend, not that she has any experience, just a few encounters with the grosser men in Arizona. Besides, it was Michael, at the end of the day. Their Michael.

The same Michael willing to sacrifice himself to help a bunch of cockroaches.

It’s such an idyllic landscape she arrives at. A total holiday card photo, without the snow. Nothing but grass and trees for miles before a backdrop of purple mountains. She looks around, seeing the evidence of devoured flower gardens and broken fences. At least the solid, oak cabin by the stream stood in tact, smoke billowing from the chimney.

Eleanor is so focused on keeping her eyes peeled for a rampaging slug monster that she almost fails to spot the little person sat on the front step of the veranda.

She frowns. That has to be the whitest child she’s ever laid eyes on. Granted most kids growing up in Phoenix were smothered in fake tan before they were three by their moms, but this is something else. The kid has long white hair, half-plaited, down to the shoulders of the cream dress she’s wearing. Her skin is so pale it’s nearly translucent. Fork, is she looking at an actual ghost?

Wait...She’s a ghost. That really shouldn’t freak her out.

There’s just something so eerie about the little girl, from her sickly appearance to how weirdly quiet she is for...However old she is. Six? Seven? Thirteen? Eleanor really knows nothing about kids, just that they’re usually much louder than this one, sat alone, playing with a set of shining...

Oh.

“Michael?”

The kid looks away from the chain of a paperclips they were linking, gazing up at Eleanor on the gravel path. As soon as she sees their eyes, she has her answer. Even without a pair of glasses, she’d recognise those sparkling blue eyes anywhere. It’s only then that she remembers the third form.

Spooky little girl.

Though far less spooky than she imagined. More...sad.

Despite her surprise, she tries to smile, not knowing how badly she needed to see those eyes look at her again after this past month.

“Hey, buddy. How’re you feeling?” She starts to approach.

The kid drops the paperclips and jumps up to their feet, beginning to tremble terribly, eyes wide as saucers.

Eleanor stops. Is he afraid? Of her?

“Michael? D’you remember me? It’s Eleanor, dude..”

“‘Hani!” The child cries turning and running inside the cabin. Fork, she knew was bad with kids, but shirt! Eleanor rushes in to follow, unable to hold back.

She enters the cosily furnished cabin to see the pale girl run up to the leg of the six foot beauty standing at the stove and cling to her skirt for dear life.

Tahani looks over from the pot of spaghetti, face fearful at first before lighting up when she spots her friend stood in the foyer.

“Eleanor! What a lovely surprise.” She beams, turning the stove off; “I’m so glad you decided to visit.”

“Wow...You’re kinda rocking the whole rustic single mom look here, babe.” Eleanor says, looking around the place, everything making her feel so warm and comforted from the open fireplace to the heavy air of recently baked bread.

Tahani looks down to her charge hanging onto her dress, reaching down to pick the little fingers off carefully.

“Well, it was rather nice to have a project to myself, and Derek was surprisingly helpful. Everything else I acquired myself, having learned to survive in the wild from a well known ‘Bear’ friend of mine.” She holds the kid’s hands and bends down to their eye level; “Michael, sweetheart, look who’s come to visit. Remember Eleanor?”

The demon child whimpers, throwing their arms around Tahani’s neck and hiding in her luscious dark hair.

Eleanor bites her lip; “He’s a lot more shy than the slug monster, I take it.”

“Oh, I don’t understand. They were fine with Jason this morning, they were playing video games for hours - he and Janet teleported over briefly to check in on us. So glad they got back safe.”

So Jason gets a teleport but she takes the train? The first time she’s not an immortal being’s favorite to spoil.

Eleanor shuffles her feet, trying not to feel wounded at how terrified her friend currently is of her, when apparently there was no issue with Jason. But then, Jason makes it difficult for anyone to dislike him. Eleanor makes it an open invitation.

The kid whispers something to Tahani that causes the woman to pick them up.

“Oh, darling, don’t be silly.” She responds, rubbing their back; “That was just a nightmare.”

“Nightmare?” Eleanor asks. Is she the stuff of nightmares?

Tahani eventually convinces the pale kid to go back outside to continue playing while she catches up with Eleanor.

Questions Tahani has about the experiment and the subjects get quickly brushed aside. Eleanor is unable to focus on anything but the image of Michael’s eyes looking at her with so much fear. When Tahani hands her a fresh cup of cofffee, she wants to stick her hand in it, just to scold herself for the sake of it.

“He’s having nightmares? I mean...she’s having...” Eleanor frowns.

“I find it easier to use ‘they/them’, which Michael seems to prefer as well, currently.” Tahani explains; “Most of the time, they’re a calm, affectionate child. Such a welcome change from the beast I was putting up with a fortnight ago, as much as they grew on me. It’s just at night, while their brain is still reforming and all these memories are flooding back...It can be rather distressing. Trust me, it’s heart-breaking just to see them crying and screaming...”

She can’t imagine that recalling centuries of brutally torturing innocents along with the knowledge of why that was wrong is easy for anyone, least of all in the form of a small girl, creepy or not.

“Honestly, the creepiest I’ve encountered so far is them levitating at the end of my bed - and that’s usually when they’re just looking for a cuddle.”

Eleanor smiles a little, Michael never was the best at being a truly ‘frightening’ demon.

“And I’m in these nightmares?”

Tahani sighs; “I suppose the memories of their last night are mixed up with everything else. They just...were worried you were here to say something mean or...you wanted them gone.”

Fork-sake.

“I never wanted this, Tahani. I never wanted him to...Shirt, I didn’t even think he could, but...” She struggles to hold back tears; “I shouldn’t have come. I’ve just made him...Them more upset. Fork knows what I’d be in for if I stayed for the Teenage Boy phase. He’d probably set my hair on fire as payback.”

Bratty Michael in his fully grown form had been enough to handle. A hormonal one with amnesia was a whole other level.

“Eleanor. Just go talk to them.” Tahani presses; “This whole distancing thing you two are doing to deal with your falling out is dangerous. You’re not going to fix anything by staying away from them. As I kept telling my good friend Courtney when she had a row with my other friends, Lisa and Jennifer - you just need to communicate!”

“Babe, they’re afraid to even be alone with me.” She’s the monster under the bed now. All because she took one sin he committed to heart and forgot about all the good he’d done for her that outweighed it.

“Then stay, there’s plenty of room. Even if it means we swap and you stay here and I return to help with the experiment. Either way, this needs to be sorted out. I don’t believe demons are supposed to be this upset during their growth...You could help with that.”

Can she? She’s not the nurturing type, like her hot friend. She melted her own doll in the microwave as a kid. And she unwittingly talked her own demon bestie into exploding himself.

Tahani’s hand squeezing her wrist gives her some strength.

“...Okay. I’ll try.” she meets her eyes; “Is Michael the only one allowed to snuggle in bed with you when they’re scared?”

Ten minutes later, she goes to find the creepy girl outside, this time sat among the flowers, being far more gentle with them than her previous slug form was.

Eleanor approaches slowly.

“Michael? Buddy?”

The kid gasps, standing up again and flinching back. Eleanor raises her palm.

“Please don’t run away. I promise I won’t hurt you...and I won’t be mad.” She says, soft as she can manage, getting down to the ground; “And I’m not gonna make you go away anywhere. I just wanna chat...That ok?”

Michael doesn’t look too convinced, glancing over at the cabin. Looking for the one constant they’ve had, who’s been here for them, caring for them. Where Eleanor should have been, at least sometimes.

Okay. Time for the trump card.

“I got you something. Tahani said you have trouble sleeping. I thought maybe this guy could help?” She produces the minion toy from behind her back.

Michael’s eyes sparkle and he instantly reaches out to take it.

“So ugly!” They cheer, hugging it to their front.

Eleanor chuckles. Still so easily impressed.

“Can’t argue there...Also, I picked up those paperclips of yours. Did you know you can do this with them?” She holds up the chain; “Gimmie your wrist a minute.”

Michael frowns, hiding behind the toy a little.

“I won’t bite, dude. Kids are way too gross to eat. You’re too stringy and bony.” She wrinkles her nose.

They blink at her before slowly holding out their wrist. Eleanor takes the paperclips and links them around Michael’s arm, forming a bracelet.

The child gasps, clearly thinking they’ve seen it for the first time; “Holy motherforking shirtballs.”

“Damn, you kiss Tahani with that mouth?” That must have been another residue memory tucked away.

Michael sneers; “Kissing is gross.”

“It’s pretty weird if you think about it, yeah.” She concedes, glad they’re at least talking, as much conversation as she can have with a billion year old immortal that’s lost their mind as they regrow in the body of a haunting little girl; “...What about hugs? You like them, right?”

The kid nods, eagerly.

“...Maybe I could have one, someday? If we can be friends? I’d like that...” More than they could know right now. More than anything else, even having Chidi remember her. This...This is just as painful, because she can’t be sure if this is fixable.

Eleanor crosses her legs as she sits, facing her friend.

“I’m so sorry, Michael. I know...you don’t understand that right now but...I’m sorry for why you’re scared of me...I wouldn’t ever wanna hurt you. Please believe me.”

Trust me? God, she’s such a hypocrite.

The kid eyes her, up and down, before turning to the flowers. They bend down, picking a few up into a small bouquet of daisies. Michael turns and hands it out to her.

“Oh...Uhh....Thanks...” Eleanor reaches for them.

Michael’s blue eyes flash red. The flowers burst into flames.

“Forking shirt!” Eleanor jumps.

And still the kid holds them out; “Pretty, right?”

A heartfelt laugh tumbles out of her; “...I can tell Jason’s been here.” Or maybe that was part of her friend’s demon nature. Either way, it was adorable. “Thank you, Michael.” she says, taking the flaming daisies. “You know...if you want, I could show you how to make chains out of these? We could make a crown for Tahani?”

“And ones for me and you?” Michael asks, hopeful.

Eleanor’s lip quivers, a sudden lump in her throat. She reaches out to run her palm over her friend’s white hair, soft as it’s always been; “Yeah...Me and you too, bud.”

#rose says she can't fix things #then immediately writes something to fix it #as weird as this is #like borderline crack fic #but still works within the canon #fluffy angst #hellstrop brotp fic #michael x tahani sistp #genderfluid michael #hints of future cottagecore teleanor? we'll see

13 notes · View notes

inkdemonapologist · 4 years ago

Photo

So internet friend Thren recently got into Bendy and offered to run a BatIM-themed TTRPG for me and a couple friends and uHHHHHH YES PLEASE???? She’s altering an existing Call of Cthulu scenario and has been going all out with handouts and audio logs and iTS A GREAT TIME. I’m still not over how galaxy brain CoC is as a system for batim characters, like, normal people in over their heads investigating supernatural things they shouldn’t mess with that might corrupt their minds??? PERFECT

Anyway obviously I’m playing a version of Sammy Lawrence, this takes place in 1930 so he’d be slightly less of a mess normally, but we all started the game by waking up in Haiti with no memory of how we got there so things are going great so far!!!! (is it Joey’s fault? PROBABLY)

I used to jot down quotes when I played D&D in college so uhhhhh aPPARENTLY IM STILL DOING THAT, have some of those under the cut!!

[GM is Thren, Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo and Henry is played by our friend Maf.... just marks everyone with the character they’re playing b/c I think attributing ooc comments to the characters is funny]

[adjusting the original pre-gen character sheet] I'm not sure Sammy's [spiritual willpower] stat should be so high. Like..... I think Sammy is sensitive to that kind of thing, but in the sense that a canary is sensitive.

[Sammy] Well I guess I’ll take a gun then, [Joey] WHY ARE YOU TAKING A GUN??? [Sammy] I DON’T KNOW!! [GM] It was in the bag! [Sammy] It was in a bag, of our stuff! [Henry] I’m taking a gun. [Joey] Wait -- are we still in the hospital? [Henry] okay I’ll wait until we’re out of the hospital to take a gun [Sammy] I mean, they already gave this to us, as our stuff. They know that there are guns here. [Joey] Maybe it’s a trap! [Sammy] Okay, alright, [GM] The guards do look kind of uneasy if you guys start getting too interested in the guns, but they are yours, so— [Sammy] IM NOT INTERESTED IN THEM, I’m just looking at it going, okay there’s three guns, there’s three of us, probably these were ours, [Joey] Why would we have guns??? [Sammy] That’s a great question wHY WOULD WE BE IN HAITI?!? [Henry] okay, lets all calm down, and figure this out,

[Sammy] Who’s shotgun? Or are we all crammed in the back. Who’s middle sea— it’s probably me. [Joey] It’s you. [Sammy] It is me. Okay. That’s what I thought.

[Henry] I'm just looking around to see if there's anything out of place! [GM] Make a Spot(Hidden) Roll! [Sammy] Sammy is, uh, yelling? Um, I don't know what specifically, but a lot of THIS IS YOUR FAULT, I KNEW IT, IT'S YOUR FAULT WE'RE HERE, IT'S YOUR FAULT WE'RE IN THIS MESS-- [Henry] okay, my spot-- [Joey] Joey is yelling back, that it's TOM's fault, because Tom's clearly the one who's disappeared, and he was involved in this somehow, I just know it--! [Henry, typing b/c we won't shut up] (My Spot (Hidden) is 70 and I rolled a 30) [GM] Okay, let me-- [Sammy] HE'S NOT MENTIONED IN HERE, WHY WAS HE EVEN WITH US??? WHY DID YOU BRING HIM? [we finally hush as Henry finds an incriminating GENT invoice] [Henry] Okay, well, yes, I'm going to show this to everyone, and now- [Joey] Joey instantly takes it and uses it in his argument against Sammy. [Henry] HENRY TAKES IT BACK; okay, you guys need to calm down, I found something weird.

[Sammy] Sammy is pretty freaked out and does not eat a lot of his food, but it’s alright. [Henry] I don’t know why my brain immediately decided that that’s okay because Henry will finish it? I have no basis for this headcanon? But it is what has been presented to me. [Sammy] Henry can have it. [Henry] I mean if you don’t want it? We paid for it! Like, yes, there’s all sorts of creepy shit happening, but— ...you know maybe he stress-eats. [Sammy] That explains a lot about the bacon soup, to be honest with you... [Henry] IT DOES. Okay. NEW HEADCANON: Henry stress-eats.

[Henry] Oh, my cthulu mythos skill is really low, hmmm... [Sammy] MINE IS ZERO so I’m not going to make the roll! [Henry] I’m going to say since it’s such a low chance, I’m going to have Henry just kinda shrug and say, yeah no I still don’t know what that is. [Joey] Well I got a nine! Which actually is under my mythos! [Sammy] Oh My Gosh [Henry] Okay, full disclosure, I was kind of hoping you would go crazy. [Sammy] I can’t believe Sammy’s the only one who’s going to come out of this sane, becAUSE HES NOT STICKING HIS FINGER IN THE WEIRD GOO! [GM, encouragingly] Naw, there’s time!

#sammy lawrence #Bendy and the Ink Machine #when in doubt just keep drawing #more distractions #call of cthulu: haunted hijinx #(p.s. if youve played this scenario no spoilers pls!!)#IM LIVING

251 notes · View notes

sloppy-butcher · 4 years ago

Note

Please can you do P, R, L, B, D with Caleb? Forgive that there's so many. Thank you!

thank you for the request bby and so sorry it took so long to get out <3 yeehaw cowboy man :)

;;edit, pls no more fluffy alphabet request thank you :)

Fluffy Alphabet for The Deathslinger (Caleb Quinn)

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Your hands. The ultimate identification markers of what makes a man, a man. Or well, human. The tools with which greatness can be created and love can be expressed. Caleb absolutely loves your hands and often asks to see them. He likes to have your hands in his in which he can appreciate the size difference between you two (his hands are long and gangly and are littered with a multitude of scars and blemishes). You watch as a smile dusts the corners of his mouth, his eyes downcast and solemn. He lifts your knuckles to his lips and he kisses you gently, the grey hairs of his mustache tickling your skin.

Hands are what defines a person. It is what made him smart and respected, he used his hands to create his redeemer and brought about justice to the less fortunate. His hands are rough and leathery, the products of suffering and hardship, but yours - oh, how sweet they were. He loves to hold them, loves to look at them, loves to have them slowly caress his body with passion and generosity.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He imagines a small, lonely cabin lost high in the mountains of some faraway country place. The mountains on the horizon stand blue against an endless sky, horses and cows roam the grassy fields around and for miles, the land stretches into the untouched vastness. There is no one near, not a neighbor in sight - just you and him in this sort of ethereal, western dream.

Winter mornings are spent cuddled by a fire, drinking warm coffee with blankets wrapped around your intertwining bodies. And summers see the two of you riding to the local creek where you swim and frolic like love-sick yearlings. All Caleb has ever wanted was to be alone, to be content in his own identity, and to be free to live life as he wants to. Now with you by his side at this lonesome cabin on the doorstep of the great unknown, he feels that content and is comfortable to simply live and let wilderness flow through him and over his land.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Caleb is a great nihilist; stubborn and bitter to the point of being completely dis-likable. He knows he’s old, he knows he is trapped in a repeating loop where nothing will die and he will never be free and he knows that truly, nothing means anything in this world. He sits alone and drinks, trying to drown the part of him that yearns for meaning, for purpose, for justification of existence.

What Caleb also knows is that he has a liking for you. He knows that your presence doesn't drive him up the wall and that your soft conversations are the highlights of his day. he knows what he wants and he knows there's no point to pussy-foot around the subject. Caleb asks you straight out if you would be interested in becoming closer to him. He explains that he enjoys your private time together and that he would greatly appreciate it if you reciprocated his feelings. Of course, he doesn’t say it in so many words but you get the picture.

You’re surprised by his forward bluntness and Caleb realizes how sharp he sounds. He softens and moves closer to you, taking off his hat and setting it aside on a table nearby. He lowers his face and kisses the top of your head then he pulls you into him, his arms wrapped around your shoulders trying to drag you deeper into his embrace. It was selfish to hold you before you had even given him your answer but he could not help himself. You could feel the tall man shake slightly as he hugs you, the act being such a spontaneous event that it takes you a few seconds to realize its entirety. Eventually, you manage to slip into his arms and give over to his need for affection. ‘Of course’, you say without words, ‘I love you too.’

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He would be very upfront about everything. He talks to any and everyone about you, endlessly bragging about what a lucky man he is to have roped such a pretty little thing such as you for himself. Often this gets him in the bad books of the other killers who couldn’t care less about whatever the crazy old cowboy was doing in his free time, but did their threats or disgruntled glares stop him? God no.

He is also very hands-on, slapping your ass at every chance he got and scolding anyone who dared so much as look at you. Someone walks past and offers you a kind wave, you hear Caleb tense his gun and growl. You elbow him in the ribs but he does not falter in his misdirected aggressive protectiveness, blazing daggers after the person then spitting hatefully onto the ground. Only he was allowed to give you goo-goo eyes and he’ll be damned if he lets anyone else so much as try.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He’s incredibly, unironically, and insufferably cheesy. Caleb was a hopeless romantic before the term was even created - if you looked it up on the dictionary you would find his name in the description. There was just something so wonderful to him about being in love and in being loved, whenever you would stand closer to him or when you would look at him with those mild, affectionate eyes that never dulled or aged, that made him soft and malleable on the inside. It was easy to give in to your fluff and forget, if only for a moment, that he was scarred by life and made to be a monster.

Caleb likes to get you gifts (preferably something he had handmade) and he loves to give you compliments especially when they borderline being suggestive.

#dbd imagines #dbd x reader #dbd the deathslinger #dbd the deathslinger x reader #dbd caleb quinn #dbd caleb quinn x reader

84 notes · View notes

castiel-kline · 4 years ago

Note

cas and balthazar meet again post finale

This one really got away from me, and it got really long. I promise it does answer the prompt but I also made it super plotty for some reason. I hope you don’t mind!

Being taken by the Empty didn’t feel like dying.

Of course, that’s what was happening to him, but it didn’t feel like that. It felt cold, and painful, and vengeful. Lonely and miserable and laced with glittering knives of regret.

It was his damnation. Not the traditional sense of the word, but true nonetheless.

But if facing it meant he’d save his family? Save Jack from being subject to the same fate? He’d damn himself to this a thousand times over, without a single shred of hesitation.

The Empty had him entirely covered in its goo, tendrils snaking under his skin and into his body from every angle. In through the eyes, the nose, snaking down his throat. Under the fingernails, into the ears, scraping through the tattered remnants of his grace and pressing down around his true form.

It was agony.

Eventually it subsided, and some of the inky tendrils retracted, leaving him gasping for air that neither existed in this realm nor was truly necessary. He collapsed in a heap, the Empty bubbling around him. He spared a glance up, wondering if the Shadow were nearby to gloat before sending them both into slumber. What he saw… well. Unexpected didn’t quite cover it.

“Jack?”

“Hmm. Guess again, Castiel.”

“No.” Don’t you dare look like him.

“Oh, yes. Because it hurts you to look at him, doesn’t it?” The Shadow leaned down, condescension clear as day in its every move. So wrong on Jack’s face that it twisted something deep within him. It stared him down, watching him squirm, mania-painted smirk stretching wider. “Good. I want you to suffer, so that’s what you’re going to do.”

“I thought you wanted your peace and quiet,” Cas managed, as more tendrils snaked out over his wrists and ankles. Dragging him a little bit further down, completely at the Empty’s mercy. Somehow he suspected that was the point.

The Shadow straightened, looking down Jack’s nose at him.

“Of course I do,” It said, emulating Jack’s earnestness. Liar. “But I can’t!”

“What?”

“Wonderboy-” the Shadow gesticulated wildly in the direction of its facsimile body “-woke everybody up when he exploded all over me. So I don’t get to sleep, no, and if I don’t get to sleep then you definitely don’t get to sleep. None at all.”

Quicker than a blink, the Shadow had fisted Castiel’s collar in its hands, bringing their faces inches apart.

“At least,” It whispered, eyes wild with an energy Jack had never, and would never, possess. “I get to make you suffer like you’ve made me suffer. So I want you to look at this face, Castiel. Look at it, and know that it’s contorted in tears right now because Papa Bear abandoned him.”

The Shadow threw him down, the goo swallowing him right back up. Submerged in the dark, he scarcely felt its weight. He was too busy drowning in a fresh cascade of guilt.

It yanked him back up, tendrils leaving him suspended in the middle of nothing. Some of them twisted at his feathers, pulling them just enough to be excruciating but not enough to rip them free. He screamed.

“Be quiet!” The Empty released him, and Cas fell back down, every fibre of his being crying out in pain.

The Shadow cackled, everything about it from the pitch to the cadence to the intention screaming wrong, wrong, wrong.

“You’re never going to regret this, are you?”

Cas glared at it, mustering up as much defiance as he could.

“No,” he croaked. “Because saving my family? That’s worth dying a thousand deaths.”

The Shadow doubled over laughing again. Then, quick as a blink, kicked him across the face, sending him reeling backwards.

“‘Die a thousand deaths’? Please. You’re pathetic, you know that?”

Castiel pushed himself back up, following the Shadow’s pacing with his eyes. It walked with one arm tucked behind its back, the other gesticulating as it spoke.

“Death isn’t going to be enough for you, hmm. Oh, you know what you’ve never been able to take?” It spun back around, grinning down at him. “You can’t stand seeing the pain you’ve caused. And since you can’t see what’s left of your precious little family- not that they even care that you died, by the way- how would you feel about seeing the angels again?”

No. He must have looked visibly afraid, because the Shadow only smiled wider.

“Not so pleasant a thought, hmm? Seeing as you killed most of them.” It laughed again, clapping its hands in an expression of glee that would have been endearing coming from Jack, but now simply served to be disturbing. “Oh, yes. It’ll be just like throwing a scrap of meat to a pack of starving dogs.”

Cas shook his head, but the Empty pressed on. It waved its hand, and Castiel was thrown some immeasurable distance away. He pushed himself to a sitting position, and watched in horror as the ground bubbled around him, and his brothers and sisters began to crawl their way out.

He recognized them, of course, because he’d taken care to never forget a single name. He saw Hael first, then Bartholomew, then Jonah and Efram and Ambriel and Samandriel. He saw Raphael, Uriel, Anna, Jophiel. He scrambled to his feet, unable to do anything but watch and wait for their wrath to undoubtedly descend upon him.

Someone grabbed him from behind and pulled, running and dragging Castiel with them. He didn’t fight it, figuring that whoever had him was going to inflict a world of pain and there wasn’t a thing to do but accept it. They’d gone a fair distance, if there was such a thing as distance in nothing, before they stopped and Cas turned to face who had taken him.

“Balthazar?” His voice came out strangled, as scarcely more than a whisper.

“Cas,” Balthazar said, staring at him with something unreadable in his eyes. “Your wings…”

“Balthazar,” Cas repeated, finding himself unable to say anything else, mind swirling in an inescapable vortex of grief and guilt and pain. “I’m sorry, my friend. I’m so sorry.”

“What, for killing me? You weren’t yourself.”

“I was. That’s the problem.”

Balthazar just shook his head. “It’s going to take more than a stab in the back to get rid of me. You do know that, right?”

“If we weren’t already dead I’d offer you my blade to kill me. I deserve nothing more.”

“Castiel.” Cas forced himself to meet Balthazar’s eyes directly. “I know you, and so I forgive you. As I’ve told you before- nothing’s changed.”

Cas smiled bitterly. “Except me.”

“What happened to you?” Balthazar’s fingers traced the air where Castiel’s wings lay mangled and twisted in another dimension. “You look like you’ve been clawed apart by feral house cats.”

“I destroyed everything, Balthazar. So many times.” And he felt like he was being crushed under the weight of all his mistakes. Perhaps this was the torture the Empty preferred for him- giving him back a lost friend, giving him forgiveness- and then ripping it away again. Surely even someone as loyal as Balthazar wouldn’t want to associate with him after learning of the things he’d done.

“You, Cassie? I’ve only ever known you to do what’s right.”

“How can you say that when you saw me make one of my biggest mistakes? When I killed you because of it?”

Balthazar scoffed. “Mistake? Cas, you were trying to stop our control freak of an older brother from letting the other ones out to destroy the world. What about that is a mistake? Sure, Crowley was a bit of a snake, but come on. It can’t have been so long that you’ve forgotten your good intentions.”

Cas didn’t say a word, and Balthazar narrowed his eyes. “How long has it been, Cas?”

Cas sighed. “Nine years.”

“Nine years.” Balthazar’s eyebrows had shot all the way up. “Wow. Not long at all. So what could… no. Tell me you weren’t.”

Castiel frowned. “Weren’t what?”

“Weren’t still kissing the Winchesters’ asses for the whole nine years.”

“They’re my friends, Balthazar.”

“Oh, really?” Balthazar crossed his arms. “If they’re your friends, why did they treat you like one of the guns they keep in the trunk of their wretched car?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it, Cas?” Balthazar sighed, backing down a little. Nine years of death wouldn’t stop them from bickering, it seemed, though he did put a hand on Cas’ shoulder. An uncharacteristic attempt to show solidarity through the sarcasm.

“Look,” Balthazar continued. “What you do is your business, but… just tell me there was something good in those years. That it wasn’t just you running around trying to prove yourself to them.”

There was something, in fact, something he’d never expected. Something beautiful.

“I had a son,” he admitted. He’d often wondered what Jack would be like meeting angels that weren’t hell-bent on killing him. He’d imagined Jack meeting Balthazar, or Hannah, or Rachel or Samandriel, but it would never come to fruition. The best he would get was telling them about him, assuming he would be able to escape being choked and stretched and drowned by the depths of the Empty for all eternity.

“Why, Cassie, I’m impressed,” Balthazar said wryly. Oh no. Before Cas could interject and explain, Balthazar continued. “Looks like you really did get that stick out of your ass. And you put it right up-”

“Balthazar! He’s not mine, not like that. He chose me, and his mother was a friend. That’s all.”

Balthazar seemed to enjoy how flustered he was, but his tone was serious. “You adopted a human child?”

“No, he’s a nephilim.”

“Ah,” Balthazar said. “So they changed the rules regarding them in the past nine years, then?”

“No,” Cas said again, getting frustrated. He’d forgotten how much Balthazar loved to hear himself speak. Even if he had missed it, it was still mildly insufferable.

“Well, you rebel Cas, you. But, ah- who was the sire?”

Cas winced. “Lucifer.”

“Oh, my. That is unfortunate.”

“Yeah. Jack’s nothing like him, though. He’s… he’s very much like his mother. And I like to think he’s a little bit like me, too.”

Balthazar looked at him, somehow still reading him like a book after all this time.

“You spoil the poor child, don’t you?”

“I most certainly do not,” Cas huffed.

“Oh, yes you do. You’ve always been soft, but now you’re practically a down pillow.”

Cas’ smile was sadder, again. “I told you I’ve changed.”

“Maybe so. But we haven’t.”

“Thank you.”

Balthazar smiled. “I do have one question though, Cas.”

“Of course.”

“How did you die?”

Well. He supposed it would have had to be asked eventually. Unfortunately his hesitation gave Balthazar another opportunity to talk over him.

“Please don’t tell me it was for the Winchesters.”

“I love them.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. And unfortunately I love that about you. Well, go on. Tell me a story.”

Cas shrugged. “I made a deal with the Empty. My life for Jack’s, which- it wasn’t even a question. It said that when I was finally happy, it would take me.”

Balthazar frowned. “What did you in?”

“You know, I’m not really sure. But I managed to save Dean, and that’s all that matters.”

“Oh, Cas,” Balthazar muttered, sounding deeply sad. “Well, at least you were clearly a better father than our dear old absent God. That much is clear.”

Cas’ heart sank. He couldn’t not tell him, though he didn’t necessarily want to break the news.

“Balthazar.”

“What?”

“Um. A lot has happened since I’ve last seen you, and there’s a lot you need to know, but God- God was never on our side.”

--------

They walked aimlessly through the Empty, keeping aware for signs of their siblings or the Shadow, but oddly finding none.

“Well then,” Balthazar said, flippant as ever. Cas was nearly sure he was deflecting.

“That’s all you have to say? You’re not angry?”

“Nope.” Forced cheerfulness. “Never liked him anyway. Frankly, I’m surprised you even met the man.”

Cas paused and stopped moving, feeling something tugging at his grace.

“Cas, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” Balthazar had stopped too, hovering closer.

A pocket of the nothingness in front of them seemed to pull itself inward, caving in like a black hole and then cracking open just a bit. Was this what it looked like when someone died and came to the Empty?

Hopefully not, because the distortion cleared and Jack was standing there. And it was painfully, obviously Jack, clearly indicated by everything from his posture to the grace Cas could feel reaching for his own.

Balthazar stiffened, preparing for a fight, but the minute Jack caught sight of Castiel the angel found himself with an armful of nephilim. He held on tight, feeling Jack trembling slightly.

Having connected the dots, Balthazar caught his eye over Jack’s shoulder and mouthed “down pillow.” Cas shook his head slightly, but turned his attention back to his son.

“Jack? Are you-”

“I’m getting you out, Cas,” Jack said, pulling back. “We’re both getting out of here.”

Balthazar’s stricken expression tugged at Cas’ heart.

“Just me?” Cas asked.

Jack’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“The other angels are awake, Jack. Can you…”

“I… maybe. But, Cas, I don’t… I don’t know them. Why…”

“It’s alright if you can’t,” Cas assured. “But if we can help them somehow, be that bringing them back or putting them to sleep… I need to try to make things right.”

Jack nodded. “I’ll try to help.”

Cas smiled at him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “Thank you. And thank you for coming to get me.”

“Of course. I missed you,” Jack said, eyes wide. Cas felt something else inside him twisting.

Balthazar cleared his throat, and Cas gently turned Jack around to face the third member of their party.

“Jack, this is Balthazar. He’s a good friend.”

Jack and Balthazar looked at each other, Jack frowning and Balthazar smirking in a horribly misguided attempt to be friendly. The silence stretched on, utterly deafening. Jack broke it first.

“I… I met an alternate universe version of you that was not very nice.”

Balthazar didn’t miss a beat.

“Well, you know what they say. Don’t judge an angel by their alternate universe counterparts, right?”

That got a bit of a smile out of Jack, though he was still wary. Cas couldn’t blame him, so he kept in contact to keep him at ease.

“We need to find the Shadow. Make an arrangement so that we can take a few angels with us and the Empty goes back to peace and quiet,” Jack said. The self-assuredness was clearly a front, but somehow Cas felt as if he’d have time to help Jack through it.

“Okay,” he said, nodding at Jack. Jack nodded back, and the three of them started walking. Into what, they didn’t know.

But Castiel had the strangest feeling that it was all going to turn out alright.

#castiel #balthazar #spn #asks #prompts #napsterofficial #winchester critical #<bc of balthazar lmao #other prompts I am getting to y’all soon I promise!!#kitkat writes

56 notes · View notes

gripefroot · 4 years ago

Text

Crazy

“And then she said to me, I think that cat is judging us for being stupid. Backed straight out of the alley then, and it hissed after us until we started running. Never did find out if the money was stored there. Guards cats are pretty effective, when it comes down to it.”

The elevator dings. The joke between Bucky and Steve ends on twin chuckles, their attention shifted to the doors as they slide open. The elevator is not empty. Bucky is surprised. Steve, less so.

“Morning, Nick,” Steve says easily, taking a step inside. Bucky follows behind, giving Nick Fury a nod and a once-over to the woman beside him. She doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even look his way.

“Morning, boys. Nice to see you out early for recon prep.”

“What recon?” Bucky makes the mistake of saying. He grunts as he feels Steve’s elbow in his side.

“Where’s Romanoff?” Nick asks, as if Bucky hadn’t said anything.

“She’s already underground, sir,” the unknown woman answers.

“Good.”

“I’m Steve,” Steve says, and offers his hand to the woman. She takes it, a polite but distant smile flitting on her lips.

“Agent 28.” Her eyes flicker to Bucky, but he says nothing. With a raised brow her hand drops to her side where a holster is strapped around her thigh.

He doesn’t trust himself to introduce himself when he’s thinking about that thigh holster. The brand. If it’s too tight. If it could hold anything larger than the Glock 19 she’s carrying. How sexy it is. What her name actually is, because he’s pretty sure that modern parents don’t name their kids numbers. Not entirely sure, though.

“She’s my best agent,” Nick is saying, and Bucky reverts his gaze to the closed elevator doors with burning ears.

“Nonsense, sir,” she replies. “You told Natasha that just last week, and I know for a fact you told Barton he was your best agent at last year’s holiday party. He brings it up every other time I see him.”

Steve snorts. Bucky finds himself clenching his fist in the pocket of his jeans. Fury is apparently unconcerned by getting called out, and shrugs.

“Either way, she’s been on this case since we got it three months ago. She’ll be running the recon today.”

“Looking forward to it,” Steve says. Bucky senses the shifting weight of the woman, and he hears the lightness in her voice.

“You might be changing your mind about that.”

An omen.

The tac room is underground Avengers Tower. Once the doors ding open to reveal a long hallway, Fury says something about speaking to Stark and punches the buttons as the other three climb off. Bucky slows his pace to follow the woman, who strides ahead. At the end of the hallway, Natasha is leaning against the wall, but she perks up when their footsteps draw closer.

“About time,” Natasha says. “Hey, 28. I got the stuff you asked for. Told the boys yet?” And she falls into step beside the woman. Clearly they’re acquainted. Bucky wonders why Tasha has never mentioned Agent 28 before.

“Nope,” Agent 28 replies. “Figured the sooner I tell them, the more complaints I’ll hear.”

“This doesn’t sound good,” Steve interrupts.

“It’s not.”

Compared to the hall, the gear room is bright. Rows of vests, coats, weapon holsters, and various items for disguises are neatly lined on the wall. A few outfits are laid out on a table, and Bucky glances in trepidation at the chairs sitting empty in front of a mirror. He’s been in here before - he remembers the day Clint Barton was sat in one of those chairs and his hair shaved off because some evil scientist goo had gotten in it. That had been a bad day for Clint. Great day for Bucky, though.

“Sit,” the woman says. Steve is quick to obey, with a trepidated glance at Bucky. He knows what it means: If we’re going to get messed up, at least we’ll be messed up together, right? Bucky struggles to have the same confidence. He sits beside Steve, glancing back towards the open door in case he needs to make a hasty exit.

“Did you read the briefing I sent over?” Agent 28 asks, rummaging through a tub of...barber supplies. Bucky stiffens.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve assures her. “Recon at a coffee shop for a suspect dealing in chemical warfare for Libya. We just need to find out who he’s meeting, and potential locations for any deals, right?”

“Right.”

She pulls out a buzz cutter. Holding it in her hand like a weapon (which to Bucky, it looks very much like one at the moment), she turns to steady meet their eyes, the opposite hand on her hip.

“Here’s the deal,” she says shortly. “I can tell you two are ready to bolt, so I'll speak plainly. If the Avengers show up to a coffee shop all sitting together, the suspect won’t show. If the Avengers all show up to a coffee shop and don’t sit together, the suspect won’t show. You get my meaning? Anyone with half a brain will know what you look like, and anyone guilty will bolt at the first sign of trouble.”

“We’ve done recon before,” Steve says, unwisely. “We can - ”

But Agent 28 interrupts him. “Believe it or not, a baseball cap and sunglasses are not the height of secrecy. I’m in charge of this mission, and I won’t let it go south because a coupla boys are afraid to cut their hair. Hair grows back. Got it?”

“Got it,” Steve mumbles. Bucky is still staring at the woman. Trying not to look at her thigh holster.

“Got it,” he says hoarsely after a moment.

She starts on Steve. Clumps of golden hair fall to the ground, and Bucky swallows. Several minutes later, she turns off the buzz cutter, fluffing up the short ends of Steve’s hair as he stares in the mirror.

“Not bad,” he admits. “You a hairdresser?”

“Only by necessity.” A smile grows on her face, and Bucky blinks. It’s a very nice smile. Maybe a little wild, a little feral. But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t intrigue him more.

Oh, no. She’s going to cut his hair.

“Nat has some clothes for ya laid out,” Agent 28 tells Steve. “Go on over and get dressed.”

“What about Nat? Is she cutting her hair too?” Bucky blurts, before he can stop himself. The woman steps over to his chair, buzzer still in hand. He gulps.

“Natasha is going to wear a wig,” she informs him, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

“Well, why can’t I wear a wig?” Bucky sounds like a petulant child, and he knows it.

“Because your hair is long already,” Agent 28 explains patiently. “If we put a bald cap on you and some shorter wig, it’s going to look goofy. Believe me.”

“And what about you?”

“I don’t need a disguise,” she says at once. “SHIELD has an algorithm to delete all footage of me from public and private security cams. No one knows what I look like.”

“Really,” Bucky says, only half-believing.

“Not all of us feel the need to take credit for our dirty work, Sergeant,” Agent 28 gives him a smirk in the mirror, and Bucky nearly falls out of his chair. What is it about her -

She flips on the buzz cutter. Bucky flinches, and holds up his hand in desperation. “Wait! Wait. There’s got to be another way.”

She turns it off. “Afraid of a haircut?” she teases.

“Well - maybe.”

“How old are you again?”

“Ha, ha,” Bucky says sarcastically, though he’s struggling not to grin. “Come on. You do this a lot. There has to be other options. Please don’t cut my hair. Anything else. Just don’t cut it.”

Agent 28 bites her bottom lip. Bucky tries not to stare, and fails. She has very pretty lips. Then at last she sets down the buzz cutter on the counter, and reaches over for a comb instead.

“Fine,” she says, and starts to drag it through his hair. Immediately goosebumps break out across his scalp, and Bucky forces back a moan of pleasure. He must be looking a little strained, because she lifts a brow at him in the mirror. “But this is your choice. You can’t complain about it.”

“Okay,” Bucky mumbles. He won’t be complaining yet - it feels too good to have her fingers in his hair. Way too good. It’s like a massage, really. In fact, he’s so lulled that he doesn’t realize what she’s doing until he watches through a daze as she pulls a hair tie off of her own wrist to secure his hair...in French braids.

“Er,” he says, jolting from his stupor.

“All done. Your clothes are back there,” Agent 28 says, jerking her thumb backwards. She’s smiling way too broadly - she’s enjoying this. She’s enjoying the consternation Bucky must be exuding. With a narrowed glare her way, he slowly stands from the chair to wander over to Nat and Steve. Still she smiles.

“What’s this look called again?” Steve asks Natasha, twisting slightly to look at himself.

“Ah, ‘never grew out of punk rock phase to spite Mom’,” Nat replies. Bucky grimaces - it’s not a good look, whatever it is. Poor Steve. But then his amusement is cut short as he sees the pile of stuff for him.

“The point is to blend in,” Agent 28 says, coming from behind. “This coffee shop is popular amongst the odder end of folks. Get dressed, Sergeant. Nat, can I help you put on your wig?”

“Bossy,” Bucky mutters to himself as the girls go off. Steve glances over, a grin growing on his face as Bucky rifles through the pile of black leather and chains. Luckily Steve doesn’t say anything, and Bucky tugs off his nice, soft t-shirt to don some scratchy black top. And studded belt. His black jeans and boots are good enough, he decides. And the leather jacket isn’t so bad. The necklaces are bad, though.

“No guns!”

Bucky jumps, and freezes, Glock halfway into his pants pocket. He can feel Agent 28’s glare on his back, and slowly, retreats and lets his gun clatter onto the table. Steve is struggling not to laugh. Bucky glares.

Ten minutes later, they’re nearly ready to go. Natasha is dressed in a miniskirt and tall boots, with black hair that falls to her hips. Since Bucky knows her, he finds it a kind of scary look. Agent 28 is wearing a flowy skirt and top, with a bandana in her hair.

“Starving artist,” she explains, then jerks her head toward Nat. “Daddy issues.”

“We look ridiculous,” Steve says.

“No more ridiculous than anyone else there. We’ll blend in.” Agent 28 casts a look around the group; Bucky tries not to flinch under her gaze, but probably doesn’t manage. Then her brows crease. “I forgot about your hand,” she says irritably. Walking over to the buckets of accessories, she digs through as she speaks. “It’s a bit suspicious to wear gloves in the middle of summer, so...I know Stark has something in here somewhere…”

And a minute later she pulls out a floppy, flesh-colored thing. “Lube, Nat,” she orders. Bucky’s eyes widen, but Agent 28 is nothing but smug smiles as she returns, spreading out the limb...thing. Oh. It’s a hand.

“Steve and I will head out now,” Natasha says, plopping a bottle of lube on the table. “Space out our entrances.”

“Got the address?”

“Yep.”

“See you there.”

Talking in low voices, Nat and Steve leave the room in their ridiculous clothes. Bucky stares wistfully after them for a moment, and then turns back to the other woman. And jolts, and the cold lube hits his hand.

“You wanna rub it in, or shall I?” she asks, eyes flickering with mischief.

“Um - I will.” Bucky swallows and tries to be nonchalant about it. Not an easy thing which his stomach tightening. When his metal hand is appropriately...moistened...Agent 28 holds up the limb hand and he slides his fingers easily inside. It squelches in a very awkward way. He flexes his fingers, staring. They look pretty fake. But less fake than metal, probably.

“It won’t short circuit, will it?” she asks.

“No. I can get my arm wet, you know,” Bucky tells her dryly, glancing up with a smile he can’t resist. “Showers and everything.”

“Is that so?” Agent 28 teases back. “I would’ve thought you’d wear a shower cap up to your shoulder.”

“Haven’t done that yet.”

“Too bad. Sounds fun.”

“Fun? How old are you again?”

She purses her lips together in a show of annoyance at his joke. But Bucky guesses that she doesn’t mind - her eyes are alight, and a little blazing. They leave the room in silence.

Coffee shop frequented by hipsters. Well, she hadn’t been wrong. Bucky sips his coffee from a seat at the front bar, glancing around the crowd, strewn in morning sunlight and chattering way too loudly for a Thursday at 10 a.m. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Natasha pretending to text by the bathroom doors, Steve at a window seat. Agent 28 is behind him somewhat, near the entrance.

It’s been an hour. When is the guy supposed to show up again? Bucky very much wants to ask this agent, but they aren’t wearing coms. And he suspects that if he addresses her when they’re supposed to be reconning, she’d bite his head off.

The thought is appealing, admittedly.

Natasha’s eyes flick upwards. Steve quickly picks up his coffee for a drink. Agent 28 coughs slightly, and Bucky stiffens in his seat.

Target in sight.

The man heads to the front counter to order. Bucky’s closest now, and he listens as he orders coffee. Nothing suspicious so far. But the way-too-high-tech briefcase for the West Village is a bit of a giveaway.

A scent of flowery warmth fills his nostrils, and he stiffens again. Agent 28 is sliding nonchalantly into the seat next to him, reaching over for a little packet of creamer.

“He’s being followed,” she says, so quietly that anyone without super-hearing probably wouldn’t be able to hear. Bucky tilts his chin down to show that he understood. He clenches his empty cup in his hand, standing smoothly and striding towards the trash can near the door. Two bulky men are hovering, just inside as their eyes scan the crowd. The hair on the back of Bucky’s neck stands on end, and slowly he tosses his garbage away.

He returns to his seat. Agent 28 has swiveled around, facing the crowd of the shop with a disinterested stare. But Bucky can see the pulse beating in her neck. She’s on edge. Which accounts for his surprise when she meets his eyes with an enormous smile, and a loud, “Darling.”

So that’s what they must be doing now. Bucky smiles in return, a little stiffly, and obligingly takes her hand when she reaches for him. He senses Natasha near them, getting into line behind the target. And Agent 28 draws him near, so that he’s standing between her legs, towering over her in her seat.

Bucky gulps. He’s not sure why his knees won’t stop shaking. Sternly he berates himself, You didn’t go through super-serum experimentation and decades of brainwashing to lose control of yourself over a woman. Pull yourself together, Barnes!

It doesn’t help.

She smiles, as if aware of his inner turmoil, and that she’s the cause of it. “We need to extract the target,” she says softly. And then louder, “Whaddya say to heading back home?”

“Anything you say, love.” Bucky tangles his fingers with hers, keeping them steady. Her gaze is very hard on his face, and then her eyes flicker behind him. The shout from Steve and the icy determination filling Agent 28’s face come at the same time. Bucky tenses - there’s a gunshot, he hears Natasha grunt and a crash, and suddenly Agent 28 is hiking up her skirt, drawing her Glock (from that really commendable thigh holster around her now-bare leg), as she aims around Bucky and fires. The recoil shakes him a little, since she braced herself against his bicep.

There’s a sudden tent in his pants.

Screams. Glass crashing. A ping of a bullet on his metal arm. He can feel the heat of it, and winces. Then, as suddenly as the chaos started, the shop is quiet.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts (no more than 6 or 7 seconds could have passed) Bucky swivels to see...Natasha, lying on the target on the ground. Both unharmed, and a little shaky. Steve, clutching his arm as blood seeps between his fingers, and the two bulky men lying still on the ground. One shot. One taken care of...Steve Rogers-style. Bucky grins to himself.

“I thought you said no guns,” he says as an aside, as Agent 28 flicks the safety back on, and puts the gun back in its holster.

“I said no guns for you,” she clarifies, with a little dimple forming around her smirk as she smooths down her skirt to cover herself more modestly.

“But you can have one?” he asks.

“I always have one.”

“I like preparedness in a woman.”

She merely lifts a brow in return, but Bucky sees interest in her eyes as she slides off the stool. Heads are beginning to poke back up from beneath tables, and Steve offers a hand to Nat to help her stand. The target scrambles to his feet.

“I’ll take him back to SHIELD,” Agent 28 says, picking up the man’s briefcase in one hand and grasping his arm in the other. “When we have the intel, I’ll contact you for the follow-up.”

Stepping on broken glass, she begins to wind towards the door. But as Bucky stares after her, she glances back over her shoulder with a smile. Just for him.

“Make sure things get cleaned up. And take off your disguises before you address any press.” And she’s gone out the door. Bucky is speechless, but only for a moment. Sighing, he turns to Steve beside him.

“I don’t think she likes me much. Always telling me what to do,” he says regretfully. But it’s Natasha that answers.

“Nonsense; that’s just how she shows that she cares. Steve, go get your arm looked at. You’re bleeding out.”

It’s impossible to ever stop being an agent. Even tucked up in bed that night, trying to read a fantasy novel, your ears attune themselves to the sound of New York City traffic outside your window. The honks. The screeches. People calling out to each other.

You can almost pretend the noise is dragons fighting goblins.

There’s a soft swoosh, right outside your window. A thud on the balcony. Unmoving - you don’t want to give yourself away - you feel your heart begin to race as your hand slides under your pillow for a gun. The window is slid open, slowly.

And you’d thought that living on the second story was high enough that you didn’t have to lock your windows. You deserve a burglar or two for that idiocy. Grasping the handle of your gun, you jerk around and hoist yourself to your knees, keeping the gun steady in your hands as you aim it at -

Bucky. Bucky Barnes, one leg inside your bedroom while the rest of him tries to squeeze through. Bucky Barnes, sheepish and a little confused, and more than a little irritated.

“There’s something keeping the window from opening all the way,” he says. “Could you jiggle it a little?”

“Not even a hello?” you ask, pulling your gun back. He’s safe. You think.

“Hello. Please open your window.”

Biting back a laugh, you jump off the bed to oblige. “I suppose if I don’t, you’ll be stuck there forever,” you tease him. With a grunt and a pull, the window slides open the rest of the way, and Bucky lets out a long breath of relief as he pushes himself through.

“That would be a problem,” he says dryly, staring down at you as he straightens his jacket.

“Would it really? I think it would be fun.” With a smirk you close the window again, and the traffic is muted. And suddenly your bedroom seems very, very quiet. “Why are you here, Sergeant?” you ask him, hands on hips. “And why no warning? I could’ve dressed up for ya.”

Immediately his face flames red. “You - your pajamas are very nice,” he stutters out, and you laugh.

“Why are you really here?”

“I just - I…” Bucky bites his bottom lip, as his color slowly returns to normal.

“Missed me already?” you ask lightly.

“I - I guess.”

Now that is not the answer you’d expected. During the recon he’d been a little tense around you; you’d assumed he was still sore that you’d threatened to cut your hair. Barnes isn’t known to be particularly friendly to strangers. But now he’s at your apartment, having climbed through the window at night, just because he ‘missed you.’

How very interesting.

“What’s your name?” he blurts. “I mean, your real name.”

How very interesting.

“Only Director Fury knows my name, hon,” you smile up at him with a shrug. “That’s something you’ve gotta earn...if you’re interested.”

“I’m interested. I am interested.” Bucky’s not one to mince meanings. The light in his eyes has shifted; bright to dark, full of meaning. Insinuation.

You take a step forward, tilting your chin upwards as he catches his breath. You place a hand on the front of his shirt - his heart is racing. You can see very well the stubble on his strong jaw, the dimple in his chin. The thick lashes which ring his eyes. “You wanna get to know me, Sergeant?” you ask softly.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, low and slow. “Yeah, I do. You...you were so...amazing. Today. You were amazing. You are amazing. Cooler than Sam or Clint, for sure. Maybe even Tasha. Probably cooler than Steve.”

He’s babbling. It’s adorable, but you interrupt with a laugh. “Well, maybe I wanna get to know you, too. If I’m being quite frank. Which isn’t my name, by the way.”

Bucky laughs aloud - the sound fills your bedroom with warmth and liveliness. It makes your skin tingle from your scalp to your toes. “You look like a Frank,” he teases back, lifting a finger to tap the end of your nose.

“How’d you find out where I live, anyway?” you ask. “It’s not public intel.”

He shrugs. “I have my ways.”

“Which are…?”

He holds up his metal hand, gleaming in the light from your lamp. Holding your gaze, he flicks off the end of the pinky finger. “I can hack into any technology,” he says, and you give an involuntary “ooo!” at the fancy port.

“I could use one of those in my finger,” you say fervently, remembering a handful of instances when you’ve fumbled precious flash drives and such. “What - do your other fingers have that, too?”

Bucky is grinning now. He knows he got you. So he flips open the ring finger - a three-pronged port. The middle finger - a mini USB-drive. “Pretty much unlimited memory,” Bucky explains. “Stark has good tech like that. He put all the updates here, in fact. And this one - ” The index fingers just looks like a hole inside. You suspect it’s not. “Miniature stun gun,” he says proudly.

“Very cool,” you say, impressed. “What about your thumb.”

He chortles, and gives you a thumbs up. The tip opens, and a little flame peeks out, steady and orange.

“Very handy, if you’re going to an Aerosmith concert thirty years ago,” you tease.

“What’s an Aerosmith?”

Your eyes widen. “You don’t - you don’t know?”

“I don’t have a lot of memories from thirty years ago,” Bucky points out.

“Then you gonna learn, pal. Come on.” Bravely you grasp his hand - disregarding that he might want to leave, that he’s not interested in music - it doesn’t matter. There’s a single lamp lighting your living room, and you turn on the stereo. Still holding his hand.

The music starts. You turn to face him, pleased to see the interest in his expression as he nods his head. So you sing along, tossing your head back to mimic Steve Tyler’s voice.

“Come here, baby You know you drive me up a wall the way you make good on all the nasty tricks you pull Seems like we're makin' up more than we're makin' love...”

Without realizing it, you’ve pulled Bucky in to a dance. He doesn’t protest, snaking his hand around your waist and pulling you close, pajamas and all. He’s smiling down at you, with an expression you don’t fully understand. But it’s enticing enough to keep you interested.

“I go crazy, crazy, baby, I go crazy You turn it on Then you're gone Yeah you drive me Crazy, crazy, crazy, for you baby What can I do, honey I feel like the color blue…”

“I like this song,” he says, during a guitar solo. He’s swaying just so, his flesh hand shifting to nudge your hips to the slow beat.

“Do you?” you ask. “Or do you like me? Hmm?”

Bucky smiles. “How about both?”

“Okay.” Your fingers inch over to his hair, where you stroke the end of his braid. He still has the braids in. And - “You still have my hair tie,” you tell him with a pretend scowl. “You little thief!”

“And you’ve stolen my thoughts all day,” Bucky snarks back. “We’re even.”

That kind of lovin' Makes me wanna pull Down the shade, yeah That kind of lovin' Yeah now I'm never, never, never, never gonna be the same…

The steps have slowed. But Bucky’s hold on you tightens. His eyes - oh gosh, those eyes - riveted, you catch your breath as his face grows near. Tentatively his lips brush against yours, hot and promising. Your heart is threatening to leap from your chest, and you can’t help smiling as he pulls away with pink cheeks.

”Wait until I tell my mom that a guy I learned about in high school history has the hots for me,” you tease.

“Ha, ha.” But he rests his cheek against your hair, all the same. I'm losin' my mind, girl 'Cause I'm goin' crazy I need your love, honey I need your love…”

The song ends. You don’t want to stop dancing.

“So, what do you think?” Bucky asks quietly, to the silence.

“About what?” you murmur back. His embrace is really too warm.

“Me. Us. You know.”

You lift your head, holding his gaze as his eyes glitter on your face. Drinking you in. Even if he’s not terribly eloquent, you understand him perfectly. He lowers his head to nudge his nose to yours. You scrunch your face - he’s so cute. How could you say no?

“I could probably lose my job, if...if we were to start dating,” you confess.

“Then wouldn’t I lose mine, too?” Bucky asks.

“Nah. You’re too important.”

“Not that important,” he mutters. “But maybe enough that I can make sure you don’t get fired.”

So. Cute. “Maybe we don’t have to tell anyone, so no one gets fired,” you whisper back. His hand is trailing up on your back, and you nearly moan aloud. Bucky has very good hands. Just strong enough to entice, but not so much to hurt...

“Okay.” It’s barely a breath, but it flares the embers in your belly to life as Bucky kisses you again, no longer gentle, but hungry and fierce.

How long have you known him, now? Twelve hours? Thirteen? You are so lost.

Bucky is tugging you towards the couch, gasping for air between kisses as you tug at his shirt. But you push him down first, straddling his legs as he stares up at you. In wonder. Oh, you like this. You draw his shirt all the way over his head, and nearly salivate on him.

Later. You can salivate later.

Fervently you begin to kiss him again, cupping his face in your hands as you squirm; he’s yanking at your shorts, at your top. With no luck, of course. You’re nearly about to get off so he can get them off, when a ripping sound pops your head back up.

Bucky is smiling up at you. Sheepishly. Definitely ruefully.

“Punk,” you mutter, feeling his cold metal fingertips on the bare flesh of your hips.

“Next time, don’t bother with the underwear,” he retorts. You giggle, and kiss him again. Next time. Oh, good, a next time…

You’re too impatient to bother pushing off his jeans the rest of the way, and clearly he is, too. Tossing his belt carelessly over your shoulder, you let his pants stay at his knees. The sensation of his hot flesh against the sensitive skin of your thighs makes you moan aloud, and Bucky wastes no time pulling your top off. His mouth finds your breasts, and you moan again, louder this time.

“You’re killin’ me,” he rasps, between kisses.

“Not if you kill me first.”

“Is this a competition, now?” Bucky’s eyes are glittering.

“Are you gonna make it one?” you tease back.

Tangling your fingers into the braids in his hair, you pull his head back to kiss him again. But Bucky pulls away, his fingers ghosting along your jaw to tilt it upwards so he can taste your throat. His lips are hot. Oh...there will definitely be marks there. But right now, you don’t care. Especially when his flesh fingers travel between your legs. Your eyes flutter shut with a moan.

“I’m ready,” you tell him breathlessly.

“I can tell.” There’s laughter in his voice, and you peek open an eye to see him gazing fondly up at you. That smile. It makes your heart stutter, and carefully he guides your hips to align with his…

Oh, it’s so good. So, so good.

You find his mouth again, kissing him for all you’re worth as you grind against him, drawing low groans from his throat. His hands are everywhere; guiding your hips, tracing your waist, stroking your breasts. It’s like he knows exactly how to bring your entire body to life...oh, he is good.

With another groan, he leans his head on the back of the couch, bracing himself as he thrusts back. A whimper falls from your lips.

“Baby…” he starts in a husky voice, his breathing short. “I - I can’t call you agent now - ”

You’re laughing as the pleasure bursts through every nerve of your body. A slower pace and a moment later, Bucky tugs your face close to kiss you deeply as his hips stutter against yours, and stop.

“That was good,” he says a moment later. His nose is buried in your hair as he breathes deeply. You keep your eyes closed, content just to smell his musky, masculine scent all around you. You pull away to gaze down at him; his eyes are shining warmth and affection, and the tips of his fingers start to trace circles down your bare arms.

“Really good,” you agree.

“We should do that again, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”

Bucky Barnes is a flirt. A conniving little flirt. You love it.

“Well, I don’t have any plans tonight,” you tease.

“I do,” Bucky says fervently. “I’m intend to get to know you better than anyone. Even Fury, if you know what I mean.” You laugh - because you do know what he means, however perverted it sounds.

In the cold grey of dawn, you whisper your name in his ear.

“And last order of business…” Tony Stark trails off. The effect of building up to something exciting pays off - Clint jolts awake, and Sam quickly puts away his doodles of Iron Man crash landing into a trampoline. “We will be welcoming Agent 28 as a contractual member of our team. She’s worked well with us, and proven her worth. Fury agreed that we can have her part time.”

“But can she endure Clint walking around without his socks on?” Sam asks.

“I once sat in a dumpster for two days just to catch a gangster,” you tell him, before anyone else can speak on your behalf. “I’ve smelled things nearly as bad. I have a strong stomach.”

“Ha, ha,” says Clint, without humor.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Bucky studying your face intently from across the table. He’s not subtle - someone’s going to pick up on him. You straighten your shoulders, and meet his gaze in challenge. His lips twitch upwards.

“Then that’s all for today. Class dismissed.”

It had been a long briefing; a summary of the mission you’d completed, upcoming events (mostly galas and charity gigs), and a reminder that as there are no housekeeping services, everyone needs to wash their dishes before any science experiments begin to grow.

The team begins to file out. Steve congratulates you as he passes you; you thank him with a smile, not blind to the way Bucky is bristling with jealousy. Because Steve spoke to you? Bucky’s going to have it rough, with you.

You linger all the same, standing slowly until you’re the last one in the conference room. Well, one of the last.

“Agent,” Bucky says in a clipped voice, standing with his arms crossed.

“Sergeant,” you reply, with a toss of your hair as you mosey for the door. Natasha is still within earshot down the hall, but you can walk a little slower.

“I’m not done with you,” he growls. “We need to talk about…”

You glance back, lifting a brow.

“...the way you clean your handguns. It’s not safe.”

Laughter threatens. “Oh, please. I’ve been cleaning my own guns for years. And no one else has put up a stink about it.”

Bucky is strolling around the table, his eyes glittering dangerously on yours. You stand tall, unwilling to back down.

“Why the criticism, Sergeant?” you say in a much quieter voice, as he pauses at the door. Only two steps away. You smirk. “Want me to clean yours for you?”

He blinks, momentarily distracted. Then a creeping grin grows on his face. “Yes,” Bucky says, and his voice breaks on the word.

“Come on, then. We’d better find someplace more...private.” You crook a finger in his direction. He obviously nearly melts at this - a shudder goes through his shoulders, and his eyes darken as he stifles a groan. With your head high, you stroll into the hall.

There’s a janitorial closet two doors down. Perfect. Without even a glance at any security cams (you or Bucky can erase the footage later), you walk straight in, closing the door after he enters behind you. In the dark, his ragged breathing is very audible.

“Well now, Sergeant,” you say softly, tugging at the front of his jacket. “Let me show you how I do it.”

2 notes · View notes

xxlovendreamsxx · 5 years ago

Text

halfway across the world. rated k.

A/N: I was going through my WIPs and this was one I had been doing for a zine that I dropped out of. It was almost finished so I thought why not finish it. It fits the prompt for day 1 of our beloved otp month. Also there was supposed to be more but this is just wholesome in its mood and idk what followed would have been way too dramatic so I just put that plot bunny in the garbage. Who knows, I may revisit in another prompt. But for now, here, have this soldier!au drabble. It’s kinda meh but w/e. I just wanted to get the WIP out lol.

It had been five hours since a messenger soldier had arrived at their location to report the sight of Akatsuki heading towards the village they were stationed at, and Sakura was beginning to doubt the validity of the information. She and Sasuke had been immediately sent on lookout duty at the borders of the town, the latter carrying a sniper in case of trouble, while she settled for bringing two handguns and a radio.

To Shikamaru’s calculations, the Akatsuki troop should have been there three hours ago. Sakura wished she had thought of bringing provisions; her mouth had long grown dry by now, and her stomach had hollowed out as well, gurgling with painful growls and beseeching for any type of sustenance.

Running the back over her hand over her sweat-slicked forehead, Sakura exhaled a heavy sigh and tipped her head back against the much cooler wall, tired gaze set on the build of her dark haired teammate. Occupied with the meticulous cleaning of his gun, Sasuke took a few moments to notice her staring, black eyes sliding to her in question. A lopsided smile tugged at her mouth just for that.

“I’m hungry, Sasuke-kun,” she said simply, the slightest hint of complaint in her tone. “Do you have anything edible by any chance? Like an apple? Some salted peanuts? I’d take anything at this point, seriously. My stomach feels like it’s eating itself.”

Sasuke cocked his head a little, eyes full of mirth as he watched her for a moment. But then he nodded, reaching for a pouch inside his military vest. Sakura practically jumped forward in excitement.

“It’s probably not in good shape,” he said, as he pulled out a protein bar and bent towards her to hand her the snack. Too eager, Sakura snatched it out of his grasp, eyes so wild with hunger that she just barely missed the way his lips twitched in return. “…But then again, it looks like you don’t care about that.”

Fiddling with the wrapping with so-hungry-she-was-clumsy fingers, Sakura giggled and stuck her tongue out at him, giddy from his light teasing.

“Honestly, it could be ten years old right now and I still wouldn’t care,” she said, taking a ravenous bite from the nut-filled bar and finding herself utterly unable to hold back her satisfied moan.

Quickly, she devoured the rest, paying no mind to how Sasuke cleared his throat, focused solely instead on relishing every little bite she could get. She turned to look at him with the most brilliant smile when she was done, eyes gleaming even brighter when she found him there, still cleaning his gun with one hand while the other was outstretched towards her with a half-filled bottle of water.

“You’re my absolute favorite person in the world, did you know that?” Sakura said, grinning as she took the offered drink, taking a few deep swigs. She wasn’t sated in the least, but at least both her hunger and thirst had been quenched a bit now, and that was all she could ask for.

Sasuke’s lips twitched again. He merely nodded in return. “Don’t mention it.”

Letting her head fall back against the wall once more, Sakura let out a long, deep sigh, content. She closed her eyes.

“…I can’t wait to go back home,” she murmured after a moment, grin fading into a small, pleased smile. From the way she was sitting, she could feel some of the sun’s almost-too-hot beams blaring on her skin from one of the two windows in the room. For a moment, she imagined she was back home, and not in a poor village of a mindlessly hot desert halfway across the world, hanging out on her parent’s back porch on a hot summer day.

Mm, what she wouldn’t do to get a taste of her father’s divine watermelon lemonade right now.

Sasuke would probably like it too since it wasn’t too sweet, she mused, smiling wider as she cracked one eye open to glimpse at him. She sighed contently again and slipped it back shut.

“I haven’t seen mom and dad in so long,” she went on. “It’s been two years—can you believe that? Mom even says she’s got all my presents stacked in the closet so that I can open them when I get home.”

“You still get presents?” Sasuke asked, sounding completely astonished. Or well, as much as Sasuke could sound astonished, anyway.

Blinking her eyes open once more, Sakura met his gaze, straightened up and grinned. “Yup. Probably always will for as long as I live,” she said, brushing away a sweaty lock of her unbelievably bright hair.

Sasuke’s eyes softened, so much it warmed her heart and left it feeling like goo. She felt her stomach flutter as the look he gave her, so full of awe and pride… and dare she say, even a little envy.

She understood exactly why that was when he murmured, “You have good parents.”

Her smile lessened, giving way to something sadder, more bittersweet. It always hurt to think about how Sasuke no longer had an immediate family; when he was only eight, both his parents died in a car crash, and just a few years ago, his brother had gone MIA in the war. The latter is what had made him decide to enlist, full of hopes that he might one day find his brother.

But every year, those hopes were steadily declining, from what Sakura could sadly discern.

Swallowing the tightness in her throat, she flashed him a sweet smile. “Yeah, they are, aren’t they?” she said. “I’m so glad they decided to support me in the end when I wanted to enlist with you and Naruto. I know it’s hard on them, especially in times like these—and dad wanted so much for me to get a medical degree and work in a hospital, so I know it was especially hard on him. It would have been nice, but I don’t know… my place is with you guys. And I’m glad they came to understand that.” She paused, for a beat. A grin split her lips. “But they are counting on you two to look out for me. Because if anything happens to me, mom says she’ll do you two twice as bad.”

A faint smile pulled at Sasuke’s lips, finally, and he shook his head, undeniably amused. Sakura giggled, heart flipping and pounding away, all too delighted with herself. Making Sasuke smile was always an achievement in her book, especially since his smiles were so far and few these days.

She tucked her hair back again, clasping her hands in her lap a little shyly as they stared at each other. Sakura cleared her throat subtly, but still kept smiling. “They asked about you, you know?” she said.

Brows rising slightly, Sasuke blinked once, twice. “…Really,” he replied, sounding a little dubious.

But that didn’t surprise her; in all these years they’d known each other, Sasuke’s interactions with her parents had always been quite limited—especially since none of their hangouts had ever taken place at Sakura’s home. The most her parents had seen of Sasuke had been when he would pick her up beforehand or drop her home afterwards. The last time they had seen each other was two years ago at the airport, right before they were going back to the military base to be deployed, and they had hardly exchanged words.

It was only natural that Sasuke would assume they simply didn’t know each other enough for them to genuinely care about him.

Her smile shifted to something gentler. Silly man.

“Yeah. They did,” she said. “They said they worry about you, sometimes. Said you looked… lonely.”

(“he’s got practically no meat on his bones since he left—honestly, sakura, are you sure he’s even eating? poor boy looks like a lost, famished puppy. do i need to send him one of my care packages?”)

Lip curling at the corner at the memory, she set her attention on Sasuke again, heart buzzing with warmth at the sight of him, jaw slackened and eyes just barely widened. He was clearly stunned.

Eyes crinkling too happily, Sakura grinned at him and shifted to firmly nudge his thigh with her boot. “I told them you’re not, obviously,” she declared, winking teasingly. “Not with us around.”

Sasuke’s lips quirked, gaze melting again; looking so fond, so tender—so impossibly at peace. Gods, how she loved him so.

“Hm. How could I be?” he replied, eyes gleaming, teasing. “Naruto’s a loud idiot, Kakashi won’t stop lecturing me about the road of life, and you never leave my side.”

Her green eyes widened. That little—

Bursting into laughter, Sakura shook her head, throwing the not quite finished water bottle at his head. Sasuke caught it, but she kept laughing, wrapping her arms around herself as she shook and grinned and giggled.

Sasuke was smiling again when she stopped a short minute later, and Sakura heart flopped for the umpteenth time that day. She smiled back, feeling so full. Complete.

She made a silly face. “Oh, you’d be dead without me and you know it, Sasuke-kun,” she teased. And that was true.

Gaze flashing with some playfulness, Sasuke huffed, “So would you.” That was true, too.

Maybe when they would both go back home, she could finally tell him how she felt.

“Hey, Sasuke-kun?”

“What would you do if we were back home right now?”

“….Tomatoes.”

Laugh. “What, really? You’re so weird!”

“Tch. Yeah, whatever.”

#ssm19 #ssm19d1 #mel writes things #sasusaku #ssfanfiction

169 notes · View notes