#the number seven really just suits this man huh

[thetomorrowshow]

seven

empires superpowers au masterlist (not up to date)

this story takes place about a year after the end of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: light eye horror

~

He’s still new to the whole going-to-work thing. It’s kind of like school, and Jimmy had never liked school, but it’s different in the way that he’s getting paid for his work. And it’s a decent bit more enjoyable than school—he’s learning about cars, getting familiar with the inner workings of machines, and he hasn’t properly had the chance to pop open a hood since he was a teenager and would help his dad with checking the coolant and whatall.

It’s nothing glamorous, but Jimmy really likes his job—more than when he worked as a call service agent, at least. Today he’d learned how to even the weight of a motorcycle, and even though he’d pinched his fingers between the exhaust pipe and the engine, his boss had praised his efforts and let him off early.

Scott usually picks him up from work—they’ve got a second car, but Jimmy doesn’t take his driving test until this weekend so he’s not really meant to be driving himself anywhere—but Scott isn’t free for another hour, so Jimmy meanders around downtown.

He used to live on these streets, so it’s more instinct and less purpose that leads him down to the park across the block from his old apartment building—now closed, he observes, for renovations. The park is lonely at this time of day, two rusting swings hanging silently and a plastic slide gleaming in the sun.

Jimmy stops for a moment, stares at the yellowed grass and bleached plastic playground equipment. He’d never allowed himself to go anywhere near this park, a spot of joy for the kids living in the rundown neighborhood.

He can’t hang here long for risk of being chased off by some bathrobe-clad mother, accusing him of being a predator, so Jimmy turns back to the main part of downtown and heads back in the direction of the mechanic. Maybe Scott’s patrolling in the area, can show off some ice tricks.

There’s a handful of other walkers starting to appear when he makes it back into downtown proper, mostly those returning to work from lunch and high schoolers skipping out of school early. Once upon a time, Jimmy knew how to blend in perfectly with this crowd. Once upon a time, he could never stay in one place for too long.

He slides in among them just as easily as he once might have, moving at the same speed and keeping to the common footpath. He keeps his eyes down and dodges anyone coming from the other direction without issue.

Which is why it’s weird when someone runs right into him.

“Oh, geez—sorry, can I—”

“Well, isn’t it great to see you!”

Jimmy blinks, flinches as the man he’d run into slaps him on the back a couple of times. He . . . he has no clue who this is.

His mind instantly cycles through various brutes from Xornoth’s manor, but this face doesn’t match any of them. This man is a bit stocky, straw-colored hair hanging over his forehead, thin beard a bit darker in color. He’s smiling widely, even as he takes Jimmy by the hand and starts dragging him off.

Jimmy can’t help it—some strange man is pulling him away and he panics—with a snap of adrenaline—

The man jumps back, Jimmy coming with him, as a chair is thrown out of the window of the building beside them, narrowly missing them. He chuckles, taps his nose knowingly.

“You aren’t getting me with that one! Don’t worry, I just want to talk. How about in that deli?”

He doesn’t point anywhere, strangely enough, so Jimmy just glances around until he sees a deli.

All the well-trained alarm systems in Jimmy’s brain are firing, but. . . .

Now that he thinks about it, there is something familiar about this man. Maybe it’s his cadence, or his eyes—

And Jimmy realizes with a start that the man is blind, his eyes clouded over, faded scars stretching across them.

He’s shocked enough that he lets the man lead him into the deli, grab them a table, and order himself a sandwich.

That’s when he notices that the man is not only blind, but has earplugs in.

“I’m sorry,” he finds himself saying loudly as the man tucks into his sandwich, “I think you may have mistaken me with someone else.”

The man winces. “You don’t have to shout, I’m right here,” he says around a mouthful of sandwich. “And no, Tim, I know who you are.”

If that isn’t ominous. And also the wrong name, though it once again scritches at the part of his brain that finds something about this man so oddly familiar. “Jimmy,” he automatically corrects. “Not Tim. And I really ought to get going—”

“Back to Scott?”

Jimmy freezes, halfway out of his seat.

“Because I’m pretty sure he’s patrolling around the East side of the city, y’know. Unless you want to call Lizzie. Pretty sure she’s not busy at the minute.”

The man takes another bite out of his sandwich, scratches his beard.

Jimmy’s stomach goes cold. How did he—how can—it’s—

“See Tim, there’s not a lot that I don’t hear about,” the man continues. “However, there is something that I need to know, if you wouldn’t mind answering.”

He needs to get away. Fight or flight has fully kicked in, and Jimmy needs to run. Jimmy raises his hand, ready to do—something, shatter his chair or collapse the table or hurt him in some way—but the man only tsks.

“Come on then, none of that. The three of us have got to stick together, really. Wouldn’t be good to start fighting, especially with the way Nine acts.”

Slowly, Jimmy sits back down. It’s not because he’s intimidated, he tells himself. His fingers twitch. He could kill this man in an instant, and no one would ever know.

The man puts down his sandwich in its wrapper and leans in, head tilted a bit to the side. “So,” he says lowly, “did you kill them?”

Jimmy knows, instinctively, that he means Xornoth.

And it’s not intimidation that makes Jimmy answer. It’s some strange feeling that he knows this man, and cares about him. Something familiar in the line of his nose and the color of his hair.

“Yeah,” says Jimmy in the same low tone. “Yeah, I did.”

The man sits back, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Good. I figured you did, y’know, but I was sleeping when it happened. You could’ve pulled a runner, y’know? Could’ve been someone else to get them. That wouldn’t have been right, though. It had to be one of their . . . erm, what did they start calling them? Subjects?”

Jimmy swallows, then mutters an answer in the affirmative. He keeps having to remind himself that he doesn’t know this man, as familiar as he is. How does he know so much?

“Right. Back in my day, we were ‘participants’. What a joke.” The man shakes his head, then takes another bite of his sandwich. “Well, thanks for the info. I won’t tell anyone, promise—well, I’ll tell Nine, but Nine isn’t much of a talker, so it won’t get out or anything.”

“Right,” Jimmy manages. He checks his phone; Scott should be coming to pick him up soon. He casts his eyes about, trying to think of anything to say to the strange man with white scars and earplugs.

“What happened to your eyes?” he asks eventually. The man smiles ruefully, one hand going up to trace over the scars. They aren’t precise in any way, some smaller ones littered around the corners, long ones down the middle. If Jimmy looks closely, he can even see the places the irises are entirely missing along with the scar, leaving the man with cloudy white streaks through his eyes.

“Let’s just say—next time those scientists of theirs have you on the table, make sure and ask ‘em to strap down your hands,” the man says. “Not that that should ever happen to you again, but you never know, y’know?”

Well.

Jimmy feels slightly ill, staring at those scars. Most of his aren’t self-inflicted, nor nearly as visible as those. Sure, he has one across his cheek, and a small one above his eyebrow, but they don’t usually attract much attention. Scott even thinks they make him look rather dashing. He can only imagine the stares and questions this man gets on a daily basis.

The stranger finishes his sandwich, wiping his fingers off with the wrapper. He stands, tips an imaginary hat toward Jimmy.

“Well, I’ll be off. The city’s a bit loud, don’t you think? Oh, and thanks for footing the bill.”

And then he’s gone, and Jimmy sits there in stunned silence until he shakes himself, heads up to the counter, and pays.

He tries to forget about the man. As weeks pass, he moves on, his days taken up by work and Scott and his friends. And he mostly does forget about the familiar stranger, too busy to spare the mental energy needed to try and figure out who he was.

That is, until one night, nearly a month later.

Lizzie had managed to get a hold of their high school’s yearbook from when she was a senior and Jimmy a sophomore, and together with Scott and Joel they paged through it, laughing at Lizzie’s galaxy-themed outfit and Jimmy’s unbrushed hair.

They stop on the page of the soccer team, and Jimmy knows from the coos and laughs that they’re looking at him and his ridiculous hair, but his eyes are caught on a familiar face.

“Who’s that?” he finds himself saying, pointing to the boy beside him, the boy who has his arm slung around his shoulders, the boy who—in one small picture off to the side, is knuckling Jimmy’s head.

And then he remembers.

He pages through the yearbook until he finds him.

A senior that year. One of his friends, and one of the only people who tried to still hang out with him after his powers got out of hand.

He’d almost completely forgotten about Martyn.

Martyn, the dude with the new Playstation. He’d been powered—not strongly, but with some fairly average super hearing and far vision.

Jimmy thinks back to the man he’d met, blinded by his own hands, hearing so intense that he has to wear earplugs at all times.

And then he wonders, dreading the unknown answer, what kind of mistakes had been made with the experiments before his own—and who on earth Nine might be.

[ohtobeleah]

Bruises // Jake Seresin

Chapter Five: [Emerald City:]

Summary: You’re forced against your will by three insurgents all the while Jake helplessly watches on. In return? He’s given a gift made only for the broken hearted.

Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Chapter Warning: ⚠️ This Chapter contains sexual explicit content that may be distressing to some. Reader discretion is advised for the topic of sexual abuse/ non-consensual sexual assault. ⚠️

Word Count: 4.8k

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

When you get sick it starts out with a single bacterium. One lone, nasty intruder. Pretty soon, the intruder duplicates…it becomes two. Then those two become four, and those four become eights. Then, before your body even knows it: 

It’s under attack. 

It’s an invasion, the question for an aviator who was now classified a prisoner of war is, once the invaders have landed, once they’ve taken over your body, how the hell do you get rid of them. And just how the hell do you get out? 

“Do I not get my flight suit back?” You asked Nathan as he escorted you back down to the basement. “You can’t expect me to stay in this dress forever.” 

“Trust me, you won’t.” Was all the blonde haired blue eyed man replied as he stood guarding you at the back of the elevator. “The Commander has given us very clear instructions.” 

You did what you had done on your way up, counted the descending numbers as they dropped. Seven, six, five, four. The more they dropped towards the basement you felt your heart sink lower and lower. Hope was getting harder to hang onto the longer you were here, the longer time became just another one of society's artificial constructs. 

“Do you know how long we’ve been here for?” You asked as Nathan, the insurgent with the scar, led you out of the elevator down the corridor towards where you and Jake were being kept. “Do you know how long The Commander plans on keeping us alive?” They were questions he had no intention of asking as he held your arm and guided you down the hall. 

But when you saw what had happened to Jake while you were gone none of those questions seemed to matter anymore, you didn’t care about the answers or how long you had been held captive. All you cared about was Jake. 

“JAKE!” You raced into the cell past insurgents that stood idly by. They all had bloody knuckles and smirks that could have given the Cheshire car a run for his money. They’d beaten him within an inch of his life as he hung there with his arms around his head. “Oh my god oh my god—“ 

“Holy shit.” Jake murmured as your hands cupped at his bloodied and bruised cheeks. All he could do was hang his head low, too weak to hold his head up on his own. “I must be dead.” He tried to smile, you could see the blood staining his teeth as he did so and it made your stomach churn. “You look like an angel.” 

“What did they do to you huh?” You asked softly as you held Jake's head in your hands. “Jake? You with me? I’m here, I’m right here.” It was the simplest of reminders but it had worked for you so far. Perhaps knowing you were right in front of him would give Jake a little more strength. 

“Hi.” Was all Jake managed to reply before his head was heavy in your hands, he couldn’t fight any longer so he used your hands as support. “Hey Hotshot.” 

“Hey big guy.” You tried to fight off your own tears as you really took a moment to assess the damage that had been done. Cuts and bruises littered Jake's face. Blood dripped from his ears, nose and mouth. His hair was covered in sweat and blood. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.” 

“I’m okay.” But the worst of it all was the way his flight suit was torn to shreds, leaving Jake in his boxer briefs and undershirt. “You’re so pretty.” It shouldn’t have but it made your heart flutter as you placed your forehead against Jakes gently. “You’re so beautiful.” 

“Alright, that’s enough.” Nathan, the main insurgent you had come to the conclusion of, interrupted as you spun around to put your body between him and Jake. With your hands not on his cheeks anymore Jake's head fell forward to rest against your shoulder. “We haven’t finished with you two yet.” 

“He’s clearly had enough!” You hissed as you stepped forward to puff your chest. “What do you expect to get out of him now when he can’t even formulate a goddamn sentence!!” Without thinking, without hesitation, you shoved at the blonde haired blue eyed man’s chest. “He’s not going to give you what you want if he can’t talk!” 

“Okay enough—hold her.” Nathan ordered two of the insurgents to keep you still. They did. They held your arms behind your back and kept you from squirming. “We know exactly what will make your friend here talk.” 

“Don’t. Touch. Her.” Three words that made your heart ache. Jake was barely conscious but he still had to do whatever he could to protect you. 

“Lieutenant Seresin, my men have been down here for the better half of two hours trying to retrieve vital information that could help us.” Nathan explained as he stalked around the cell. His hands worked at his belt, unbuckling it slowly before he looped it off his waist. “This will be your final opportunity to give us the information we’ve been asking you to provide before we take drastic measures.”

“Go. To. Hell.” Jake spat as he held his head up. He was using all the strength he had to look at you. He thought for sure he was in for it, that they were going to beat him up some more in front of you. But Jake could take that, he could take anything they threw his way. “I’m not telling you fuckers shit, you wanna smack me around some more so fucking be it.” 

“Fair enough.” Nathan sighed dramatically as he hung his head low in fake disbelief. He’d been waiting for this. “Take her clothes off.” 

“Wait—“ You gasped as you felt the hands of the men who had been holding you still begun to unzip your dress. “No no no no wait, stop!” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what was happening. “Stop! No please—!” Jake took a few seconds to catch up to what was happening, you couldn’t blame him though, he was barely conscious as it was. 

“This is on you Lieutenant Seresin.” Nathan turned Jake’s head in the direction of where you were being assaulted. “You could have prevented this, if you’d have just told us who gave you these orders.” 

“Wait wait wait! Don’t touch her!” Jake begged as the realisation set in. “No no no no, please, anything but this, please.” 

“STOOPP—!” You screamed as your dress fell down around your ankles, leaving you far too exposed. “Please, I'm begging you!” It all felt like it was happening in slow motion. Calloused hands crept their way across the expanse of your body, lips were on your neck leaving marks that would linger for days. “Jake! Please! Help me!” 

“I’ll tell you!” Jake backtracked as he watched one of the insurgents unbuckle his belt. “I’ll tell you anything, just don’t hurt her!” Next was the zipper as you tried to kick and scream your way out of the tortuous hold. “Don’t do this, leave her alone, I’m begging you, you don’t have to do this.” 

“Too late now Lieutenant.” Nathan chuckled as he took a piece of cloth from out of his back pocket and gagged Jake with it so he couldn’t speak. He tied it at the back of his neck so there was no chance in hell it could come loose. “You’re gonna stand right here and enjoy the consequences of your actions.” Your screams of terror broke Jake's heart as he mumbled around the gag. There was nothing he could do as you were forced against your will. “I’m gonna go fuck your little girlfriend now, hopefully after she’ll be a fountain of knowledge and we won’t have to do this again.” It was a threat Jake now knew wasn’t empty. “But then again I hope I get to do this every fucking day.” 

“NOO!! STOP!” Your cries were more painful than anything Jake had ever endured. He strained and struggled against the chains and rope that held him in place as he cried with you, for you. “JAKE!!” It felt like you were all alone when you couldn’t hear Jake's voice. 

“Let’s give your boyfriend a show huh princess?” Nathan smirked as the two other guards held you in place up against the concrete wall while he stood between your legs, jerking himself off. “I’m gonna enjoy this, oh so much.” 

“Close your eyes!” You begged Jake over the shoulder of the man who was about to force himself on you. “Don’t you dare watch.” You pleaded for Jake to listen. “Please.” 

So he didn’t. He didn’t watch. He lowered his head and cried as hard as he could as your screams echoed off the walls and ricocheted against him. It was torture, pure torture. Jake had never heard anything like it before and he wouldn’t wish that kind of experience on his worst enemy. 

“AAAHHHHH!!” It felt like it lasted a lifetime. “STOPPP!” The pain, the fear, the degradation. “IT HURTS!” Nothing you said and nothing you did could stop the three men who were on you like a bad rash from their assault on your body. “STTOOPP PLEASE!” Your cries for help were the most painful things to listen to as Jake tried whatever he could to free himself. The rusted cuffs dug further and further into his wrist the more he struggled though. 

You didn’t think it could get any worse, you thought that it was over when the blonde haired blue eyed man came with an evil grin that made you believe the devil himself was scared of these men: But then he said one word that made you want to die. 

“Switch.” Jake's eyes went wide at the thought of it. No. No this couldn’t be happening. They were all going to have their way with you. “Get her on the ground.” 

“NOOOO!” You cried out as loud as you could, so loud you thought you were going to lose your voice. “DON'T! DONT FUCKING—“ Before you had a chance to finish your sentence, a single fist belted itself against your mouth. The force alone rendered you speechless before that same hand was squishing your cheeks together as blood pouring out your nose. 

“Just fucking take it, because we’re not gonna stop not matter how much you fucking scream.”

When the next hit came you felt your body growing weaker as Hake muffled screams became the only thing that you could focus on. He was there, he was still alive, he was still breathing. 

What do you do when the infection hits you, when it takes over? Do you do what you’re supposed to do and take your medicine? Or do you learn to live with the thing and hope someday it goes away? 

Or do you just give up entirely and let it kill you? 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

It had been relentless and felt neverending, but eventually, after the three men were finished having their way with you, you were left naked and curled up into yourself on the dirt of the cell floor. 

Jake stood still tied up with his arms above his head and a gag in his mouth, unsure if you were alive or not. It had been brutal. You'd asked him not to watch but every now and then he’d look up to see you taking another beating, another man, another position. 

Time had become an artificial construct in the dimly lit cell the two of you were in. Jake wasn't sure how long it had been since the insurgents left and locked the door behind them to when a woman was stepping in with a pile of folded clothes and medical supplies. He’d never seen her before, but he could very much recognise the man standing behind her in the hallway. The Commander himself. 

“I'm going to leave theses here and I'm going to untie you, if you try anything, The Commander will kill me.” She explained as she placed the clothes she had brought in for you on the ground beside Jake. he watched her every move as rage bubbled over in his system. The first thing the woman with red hair and brown eyes did was take the fabric from out of Jake's mouth, he spat blood to the side as she did so. 

“It's a good thing for you that I don't stoop as low as to hurt innocent women!!” Was all he said all the while eyeing off The Commander who stood a great enough distance so that even if Jake were to lunge his way, he could walk away. “Who are you?” 

“I'm just an innocent woman, Lieutenant.” She did what she had promised she would do as let Jake go from his restraints. His arms ached as they finally came down from being up over his head for so long. His legs crumbled as he tried to support his own body weight. He’d been beaten pretty bad, so bad he really did think for a minute there he was surely going to die. “I urge you to cooperate.” The lady with red hair and brown eyes spoke as she stood over Jake. “The Commander isn't a forging man.” 

“Trust me, neither am I.” Again it was directed at The Commander who stood just outside the cell. “I'll gut you from the inside out if anyone comes near hurt again, do you hear me you son of a bitch?” Jake snarled as he rose to his knees, bloodied and bruised beyond belief. It took every ounce of strength he had left to front a brave face. “Anyone so much as looks at her the wrong way, i'm coming for you.” 

“We’ll see.” Was all The Commander said before he walked away out of Jake's line of sight. The woman in front of him took his hand and left a small piece of crumpled up paper and left it in Jake's hand. She gave him an all knowing look before she turned on her heels and made her way out of the cell. 

“For what it's worth, Hangman, I sincerely apologise for what happened to your friend.” was the last thing she said before she locked the cell behind her and vanished from sight. Jake immediately opened the piece of paper she had left in his hand. Much to his own disbelief he couldn't believe what he was reading. 

“Hold tight, Stay alive – Rooster.” 

Jake was in so much shock that he almost forgot where he was, what had just happened and who was with him. But the minute he heard you whimper in the corner of the cell, he was making his way over to you. 

“Y/n?” It couldn't have been softer if Jake tried. “Y/n, I'm coming closer alright, it's just me.” All you did was whimper out a few struggled sobs. Jake's heart couldn't have broken any more than it already was for you. “I'm not gonna hurt you.” He made sure to remind you as he crawled closer and closer to where you were curled up. “It's just me, Jake, I'm not going to hurt you.” The more Jake said it the more he hoped you were listening, because soon enough he was right by your side. “I'm gonna touch you now, gently, and I'm gonna hold you alright?” As Jake let his hand softly graze against your shoulder, you screamed as loud as you could. It was enough to have Jake jumping back to give you a little more space. 

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” 

“Y/n it's just me.” 

“GET AWAY FROM ME! LET GO OF ME!!” 

“Y/n, hey hey hey hey it’s me—it's just me, I’m right here.” Jake reminded you as your eyes met his. He showed you both his hands before he reached for yours. “It's just me, I'm here, you're okay, I've got you.” The look on your face told Jake everything he needed to know, you were completely and utterly broken. For you? That had been your breaking point. 

“Oh.” Was all you said before you were collapsing into Jake's embrace and crying into his chest. “Ow.” Everything hurt, everything ached, everything was numb. 

“I'm so so so sorry Y/n.” Jake sobbed with you as the two of you sat curled up in the corner of the cell. “You didn't deserve that, I should've just told them what they wanted to hear.” 

“If you make it out of here–” You mumbled into the fabric of Jake's black T-shirt as he held you tight to his chest. “Please don't tell my dad what they did to me.” You asked through wet lashes as you looked up to where Jake was looking down at you. “It would break his heart.” Jake didn't want to think about it but he knew your mind was already going there. There was a chance here that the two of you might not make it home. But the note Jake had just received gave him just a glimmer of hope to keep fighting, keep hope in his heart, and to protect you till his dying breath. 

“How about we get you some clothes?” You didn't acknowledge Jake as he rubbed the pad of his thumb softly against your cheek, catching the tears that fell freely and mixed together with the blood you shed. “You with me Hollywood.” Your eyes were glazed over, sure you were looking at Jake but it felt like you were looking right through him as your mind went somewhere else. “Sweetheart, look at me?” Jake asked you softly, only then did you come back to him. “There she is, there's my girl.” 

“I need you to kill me before they get a chance to do that to me again.” You whimpered as your bottom lip quivers and your hand went to cover Jakes as he touched your cheek. “Don't let them do that to me again, please Jake, please.” Jake thought his heart couldn't break any more, but then you asked him to kill you: 

And he knew he’d die with you. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

In the days that followed you didn't speak all that much. You attended to Jake's wounds and cleaned him up the best you could with the small amount of saline you’d been given, but other than that? You barely spoke. Jake knew it was a trauma response, but he missed your voice. 

Jake had cleaned out the cuts on your cheeks from the rings on your abusers fingers as best he could, but he knew just by the looks of how deep they were that by the time they healed? They’d leave nasty scars behind. Forever branding you a sexual assault survivor. 

“I miss my bed.” You mumbled quietly as Jake held you close. The two of you were just lying there near the back wall, as far away as you could be from the cell door. He sandwiched you between the wall and his chest while he drew unidentifiable objects into your hip just to let you know he was there. 

“I miss Penny's pumpkin pie.” Jake replied, he wasn't about to urge you to keep talking, but whenever you felt like it, he’d reply. “And i'll deny it if you ever tell him but I even miss the sound of Rooster playing that damn piano.” Jake couldn't see it, but he knew a smile had crept its way across your face for the first time in a few days. 

“How long do you reckon we’ve been here?” Jake had been wondering that very same question, it was hard to keep track. There was no way to track the sun or to know if it was night out. There was no fresh air to tell the temperature or a clock to watch time tick past. 

“Few weeks maybe? Could be a few days still till we see anyone.” That's usually what happened. The insurgents would come, they’d rough one of you or the both of you up for information neither you or Jake were willing to give, and then they’d vanish, leaving you to put each other back together just to break you again and again and again. “Everytime I get close to breaking, I just think of Hewens.” Jake reminded you. “She gave them what they wanted and she still ended up dead.” 

“Do you really think that note was from Rooster?” You asked all the while you turned around to face Jake. Both lying on your sides respectively. You watched as he nodded. 

“Hold tight, Stay alive.” Jake repeated to you as he kissed your forehead. “That was something our Fitness Instructor at Acam used to say whenever someone was bitching about the session.” It gave the both of you just a little hope to cling to. “They know we’re here, that woman, she’s on our team, we just have to stay alive long enough for them to get us out.” 

“Seresin–” It sounded like a guard, Jake closed his eyes at the thought of being taken away from you. He felt your hands grip his shirt at the idea. “The Commander wants to see you, upstairs.” 

“No thanks, I'm good where I am.” Jake replied without so much as turning to face the man who stood at the cell door. Jake could see the tears beginning to well in your eyes at the idea of being separated again, the last time they did that he was beaten to a pulp and you were wined, dined and taken against your will. “Shhh don't you ever spend a second worrying about me, we’re okay.” 

“I'm not gonna ask you again, get up.” You could hear the awful sound of that taser you hated so much. The buzzing sound caused you to flinch in Jake's arms as you buried your head. He just wanted to protect you at all costs. Now more than ever before. 

“Y/n, i'll be right back.” It was the hardest of goodbyes so far, knowing that whatever was to come could only be as bad as what you'd just endured a few days prior. These guys were really upping the anti trying to get whatever information they could out of the pair of you. “Listen to me for a minute?” Jake was as gentle as he could be as his fingertips grazed your chin, tilting it up so that you were looking right into his soul through his emerald green eyes. “One of the reasons I didn't talk to you an awful lot before this mission was because you were the first woman I'd met in years that made me think about what my life outside my career looked like.” Your eyes don't sparkle the same way they did the first time Jake met you. They were clouded with misery, with fear, with uncertainty that you'd ever get out of this hell. “I thought if I got to know you, in any aspect, I'd fall in love with you.” It was an admission Jake wished he never had to have voiced in this environment. But you needed something, anything to keep you going, and he wasn't lying, not about any of it. “And here I am anyway–” Jake took a second to admire the way the corner of your lips curled up into the corners of your cheeks, you really needed to hear this. “Head over heels in love with you.” 

“You better not just be saying that to get me to not give up Seresin.” You choked out a small chuckle as Jake brought your forehead to his lips. “Because I'll be pissed if you give me the cold shoulder when we get back.” 

“When we get back it's just gonna be you and me Hollywood.” Jake had to go, he had to leave you in the cell that had become your home for whatever amount of time had passed you by. “Don't go having too much fun without me.” 

“Promise you’ll come back to me?” You nearly begged as you watched Jake get up off the ground. He wouldn't admit it to you but he wasn't doing all that well physically. His body was littered in bruises that looked more painful with every passing day. The cuts that peppered his body looked angry and agitated even if you'd cleaned them out. He’d been beaten and beaten hard, there was only so much a person could take before that took a toll. 

But still, he was your rock through all of it. He was your Jake, your guiding light. Your only hope.

“Without a shadow of a doubt, I promise, I'm coming back to you.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

The last thing Jake could remember before he was waking up strapped to a metal table with a patch over his chest was walking down the corridor away from the cell he’d been in with you. He couldn't remember being stuck with a needle in the back of his neck as he entered the elevator. He couldn't remember falling into a heap on the floor of that very elevator and he definitely didn't remember being carted in for surgery of any kind. 

“Jake.” The Commander smiled when he saw Jake was awake. “Good to see you my man.” He beamed as he clapped his hands together. “How are you feeling?” 

“What the hell did you do to me?” Nothing made sense, how long had Jake been gone for? How long had you been left alone in the silence of that dingy cell for? He told you he was going to come back, hopefully, you still believed that. Hopefully, Jake could keep his promise. “Answer me right now you son of a bitch!” Jake spat as he tried to move, his chest hurt though, something pulled under his skin and he winced. 

The Commander didn't reply as he walked out of Jake's line of sight for a minute or two, only to come back with a cage with a white rabbit in it. He shook it violently, aggressively, enough for the rabbit to lose its footing and stubble all over the handheld cage. Jake watched in utter confusion until the Rabbit fell and the Commander stopped shaking the cage. 

“Do you know what a pacemaker is?” The Commander asked as he placed the cage back down on the table off to the side. The Rabbit inside it now laid dead. 

“What?” Jake growled as he strained against the restraint that kept him down against the medical table. 

“They stick them in the tickers of people who've had bypass work, whose hearts need just a little jump, a kick start.” Jake knew what a pacemaker was, his pop had one put in when he was about twenty two. Still The Commander went on explaining like he was some kind of idiot. “That rabbit had a pacemaker set to deliver a kick start should it get too excited, or anxious, or frightened.” Why was he telling Jake all of this? “Or should it try to escape.” Ah, there it was. “Assuming that you were telling the truth about your age and weight in your last physical, your resting heart rate should be about seventy beats per minute.” Jake knew The Commander had been able to pull your files, and as it turned out Jake had told the truth in his last physical. Now he was kinda thanking his past self for not showboating to the nurse. “Your active heart rate however, that would be about one hundred and forty, which is the point at which your pacemaker will cause your heart to explode.” 

“You put a pacemaker inside me!” Jake stirred as he tried to sit up, a small beeping that increased in sound and speed could be heard as The Commander stepped closer to wrap a watch around Jake's wrist. 

“The watch monitors your pulse, if you get within fifteen beats of your danger zone it'll start to beep, if and when it beeps you're gonna wanna relax yourself.” This wasn't good, this really wasn't good. “Do some deep breathing, some yoga.” The Commander smirked as he tapped Jake cheek twice. “You've got the time.”  

“If you want me dead why don't you just shoot me and get it over with?” Jake asked as he let his head rest against the metal table as he looked up at the fluorescent lights above. It was the same room one the insurgents had shot you in. The one with the white walls and the white floors that smelled like a sterile doctors office. 

“Because we’re not cold blooded killers Jacob, we give fair chances.” This really was hell on earth. “And another thing, Miss Y/l/n–” 

“You touch her again and I swear to god–” Jake paused when he heard the beeping from the watch, his heart rate was increasing. Fuck. 

“You tell her what we did, what we put in you, and we’ll put one in her too–” The Commander threatened as he fixed up his jacket.

“And I can assure you her heart rate won't stay nearly low enough the next time my men wanna have a go.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Tags 🏷️ @americaarse @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @athenabarnes @imaginecrushes @whyareallnamesgone @mjmaximoffbarnes @amiets2 @mads-weasley @gabbyella @ephemeralninon @xoxabs88xox @pedrohoe04 @starkleila @je-suis-prest-rachel @clancycucumber230 @maisie-rebloging-blog @callsign-barbell l @obiwankenobis-lap @some-lovely-day @paperbag333 @callsign-magnolia @jhiddles03 @hardballoonlove @shanimallina87 @seitmai i @abaker74 @missemrose @starset21 @kmc1989 @phoenix1388 @emma8895eb @tsofo26 @itsmytimetoodream

[angelyuji]

skirts and promises

707 x reader (most (if not all) dialouge from day 9 phone call) reader wear a skirt but no gendered pronouns

hope you guys enjoy! i know not many of you follow me for mystic messenger stuff but it's summer so im back on the grind :)) no warnings! maybe a little suggestive so yk.... anyways, i'm a 707 girlie till i die thats literally my man i need him so bad it physically hurts me like omg thats my FREAKING MANNNN.... have fun reading!

you glance at seven sitting next to you on the couch, typing at lightening speed on his laptop. you quietly pull out your phone, pretending to look through the chatrooms before dialing his number on the RFA app.

“hello?” seven laughs next to you and you pout at the phone.

“why are you laughing?” you look over at him suspiciously.

“i noticed you glancing at me while pressing on the phone, so i wondered if you were trying to call me. and you really did! why are you so cute? i even love how predictable you are.” you blush at seven’s words. you jump up and run into the kitchen, giggling to yourself. “hmm? why are you running into the kitchen? i can’t see you now!” seven whines as you press yourself against the fridge and slide down to the floor.

“it feels like we’re actually talking on the phone if we can’t see each other!” you speak into the phone, smiling to yourself.

“what?” you peek your head around the corner and watch as seven tilts his head in confusion. “huh…you’re right…then i want to hide too! where should i go?” seven stands up, phone pressed to his ear. “i want to go into the kitchen too!”

“no, no! then there wouldn’t be any point in me hiding!” you whine, and you watch as seven throws his head back and laughs. he plops back onto the couch, arms spread out on the top of the couch. you bite your lip and watch as he relaxes into the couch.

seven sighs, “…i miss you when you disappear from my sight. i want to be right beside you… always.” a warm silence fills the apartment. you feel your heart beat faster. you turn your head back to face the cabinets across from you.

“i… i feel the same.” you whisper, afraid to disturb the feeling in the air.

seven’s voice quiets as he talks into the phone, “you know, it’s good to laugh. i mean, if we can manage to laugh in this situation, what other miracle can we hope for?” you hum, letting him continue. “i think this is what suits us. that no matter what happens, we can look at each other and laugh.” he stops talking and you wait. “promise me… promise me that from now on, we’ll look at each other, smile, and get through whatever comes.”

“i promise.” you smile.

seven stands up and walks towards the kitchen, stopping at the entry. “and if we get tired in the process… our robot can help us laugh.”

“i want to make you smile too.” you giggle, clutching the phone to your chest.

“then poke your head out!” you peek your head out, seven grabs your legs, and pulls. you scream and he cackles as you lay flat on the floor. he sits on his knees, clutching his sides. you raise yourself up onto your elbows and smile. “why are you smiling? you just looked into my eyes!”

“i don’t know, i guess i just like you a lot.” you lay back down, covering your face as you feel a blush creep back up your face.

seven laughs, pulling you closer. “do you like me that much?” he whispers and holds himself over you. one hand cups your face, “don’t pout, i like you too.” he moves back to his knees with a huff. “god, i like you so much… i want to tease you, i want to watch your cute little face.”

you sit up and hit his arm, feeling your face burn. “you’re so annoying.”

seven laughs harder, “i’m so happy we can manage to play in such a small apartment.”

“interesting you say that when you didn’t even want to be near me earlier.” you huff and cross your arms.

seven grabs your hand, “ahh, just forget about that now. what’s important is the present, and the future we’ll create… together.” you smile, crossing your fingers together. “oh, but there’s a problem right now.”

“huh? what problem?” your eyes widen in panic.

“you do realize that you’re pretty defenseless, right?” seven lets go of your hand to cup your face once more. “i’m not just a guy that types away at a laptop. i’m really, really trying hard to hold back right now.” his thumb brushes against your lips and you hold your breath. you watch as his eyes drift to your lips. his face gets close and you close your eyes. you feel as if time stops, but he pauses, you can feel his breath on your lips. all of a sudden, you hear a loud laugh, you open your eyes and seven’s on the floor once more.

you move closer to him and whack his arm, “you are such a jerk, seven.”

you flop back onto the floor, annoyance turning to laughter. seven sits back onto the floor, crisscross. “ahh, don’t worry, (y/n). i’m super good at holding it in. speaking of, can’t you- can’t you pull down your skirt a little. i think- i think it kind of crawled up when you were laughing.” his eyes drift to your thighs. you look down and notice that your skirt had ridden up, exposing more of your thighs.

you smile, innocently, “what if i don’t want to? what if i don’t want to listen to you?” you use a finger to slowly pull your skirt up higher. seven’s hands clasp yours, stopping you from going further.

his eyes were wide and you tilt your head, noticing how wide his pupils are. “you don’t want to? please… i feel like my nose is gonna start bleeding if you keep going like this… i’m sure of it.” you pull one side of your sweater down below your shoulder, smiling slightly. seven’s breathing gets heavy. “god… i don’t think- i can’t-” seven shoots up, surprising you. “i need to go work out a bit. i just want to work out of my body too, not just my brain all the time.” you get up with him. “maybe- maybe a cold shower too…” he mumbles, brushing his hand through his hair.

“wait- seven-” you grab his arm.

he looks back at you with a weird expression. “and uh… please be careful of your skirt. i’m sorry.” you bite your lip and pout.

“fine… i guess i should hang up then and help you.” you grab your phone and seven grabs your hand, pulling you closer to him.

“huh? help me? wait- why- why are you trying to hang up? not yet!”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖

:)

(almost) 258 for 📖 (x2 for the other ask)

---

Buck doesn’t really know what to do. He doesn’t know how to be. This isn’t… This isn’t his strong suit. 

It might have been. He almost got there. With Abby. When her mother died, Buck had been all in. He tried to comfort her. Was there for whatever she needed, twenty-four seven. Helped with the funeral. All of it. But he supposes, now, that it wasn’t enough. 

He’s never known how to be enough. 

“Uh,” Buck mumbles now, watching Eddie. Who he doesn’t owe anything. Who isn’t expecting him to be anything at all. “Let me know if there’s any extra support I can offer to Chris, okay?”

Eddie nods. “Thanks, man.”

And that’s it.

He doesn’t see a lot more of Eddie Diaz that year. 

2020

ix.

“Okay, you ready for the study questions?” Buck asks. 

“Yes!” Chris replies confidently. 

“The Statue of Liberty was a gift to the United States from which country?” 

“France!” Chris answers. 

“Nice,” Buck praises.  “Independence Day commemorates what event?” 

“The Declaration of Independence,” Chris says. “Duh.” 

Buck smirks. “Correct. In what year did the Civil War begin?”

“Uh… 1860?”

“Not quite,” Buck says. “Close though.”

“1861!”

“Did you actually know that or was it the next easiest guess?” Buck asks skeptically.

“Well, was it right?” Chris asks cheekily. 

“It was…”

“So I knew,” Chris says. 

Buck chuckles. “You’re trouble. But, trouble that’s ready for his American history quiz.”

“Yes!” Chris cheers. “Thank you, Buck.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

Chris is still coming to the library several times a week. Buck has gotten pretty familiar with his classes and homework. He helps Chris more than any other kid. Not because Chris necessarily needs more help or isn’t getting it elsewhere. That’s not it. Just… They kind of have a good thing going. Buck understands how Chris learns best, and he has fun helping him research. From the fourth grade equivalent of a book report, to a science project on bugs, and now, for basic American history. 

Today, they’ve got extra time. It’s over half an hour after Eddie or Carla - or occasionally Christopher’s aunt, Pepa - comes to pick him up. Most of the other kids have gone home. No one has come for Christopher.

“Hey, Chris, who is coming to get you tonight?” Buck asks as Chris cleans up his history workbook. 

“My dad,” Chris says. “After work.”

Ah, okay. Firefighter shifts can be unpredictable, Buck has learned. You don’t just clock out in the middle of an emergency because your shift is over. You wait it out. Unlike the library. Which is closing soon. 

“He’s probably just stuck at a fire, huh?” Buck asks.

“Or a car accident or medical emergency,” Chris recites dutifully. 

“Alright, well we can be patient,” Buck says. 

“Yeah,” Chris says. “Can I read some comic books instead of homework?”

“Of course you can!” Buck says. “Homework help hour is over.”

Another half hour passes, and it’s time for Buck to close up the library. Chris is the only visitor left in the building besides Jackie. Jackie is an older lady who does puzzle books on the couch of the front foyer several hours a day without fail. She comes to a lot of the library’s special programming too. The kind that isn’t for families and kids, like author talks and craft nights. She’s pretty sweet, and always heads out as soon as Buck starts closing shop. Buck gives her a little wave, and she tells him to have a good night.

“See you tomorrow, Jackie!” He calls as she leaves. 

Buck gives it ten more minutes. Watches Chris reading comics in the kids’ section. Eddie still doesn’t show up. It’s dark outside. Rainy. Buck has heard thunder at least twice. He starts to get worried. 

He logs back onto the library admin computer and looks up Eddie’s number. He calls from his personal cell. It goes to voicemail. 

“Hey, Eddie. This is Buck. Uh, the librarian. You know who I am. Anyway, the library is closing and I’ve got Chris here with me. Just hoping to get an update on your ETA. Thanks.”

A few minutes pass. Eddie doesn’t return his call. He tries Carla. She doesn’t answer either. Buck doesn’t have Pepa’s number. This isn’t good. 

“Buck,” Christopher approaches the desk quietly. “Is my dad going to be here soon? I’m hungry.”

Yeah, so is Buck. It’s definitely past dinnertime. 

“I, uh… I haven’t heard from him.” Buck admits. “But let me make one more call and see what I can do, okay? Maybe I can order us some takeout.”

“Okay,” Chris mumbles. His voice is missing its usual spark of joy. He’s scared. Buck understands why.

But Buck has one more option. He doesn’t have Chimney’s phone number, so he steps away from Christopher for privacy, and calls his sister. 

“Evan?” Maddie picks up after two rings. “I’m on break. What’s up?”

“Hey, can you send me Chimney’s number? Or, like, call him for me?”

“Sure, but he’s working. He won’t pick up for a while. Why?” 

“Well, I’m here with Eddie’s son,” Buck explains. “The library is closing and no one has come to pick him up.”

“Oh, shoot. No one came? I guess that means you haven’t heard.” 

Buck’s stomach drops. “Heard what?”

“The call Chim and Eddie’s firehouse is at… It went kind of bad… It’s on the news.”

“H-how bad?” Buck asks.

“Well…” Maddie sounds nervous. “I don’t know for sure what’s going on. But I think…” 

“What, Maddie?” Buck presses.

“One of them, not Chimney, is trapped underground. I saw Chim being extracted on the news, rescuing a kid. There was a mudslide… It could be Eddie.” 

“Oh, fuck,” Buck says. Library language be damned. 

“Yeah…”  Maddie sighs. 

“Okay, listen…” Buck groans. “I can’t get in touch with any of Christopher’s approved pickup people. There are procedures for this, and I don’t like them. So… I’m going to break the rules.”

“What do you mean?” Maddie asks.

“I’m going to take Chris to grab dinner, and then I’ll drive him to the firehouse. Can you tell Chimney to tell Eddie? And update me if anything else happens?”

“Are you going to get in trouble?” Maddie asks.

“Only if Eddie files a complaint.”

📖

“So something is wrong with my dad,” Chris says, over a McDonald’s dinner. Buck could have probably done better than this; but he had no time to prepare and it’s not like anyone has ever taught him to cook. 

“Why do you say that?” Buck asks. 

“Because if he was just running late, he would have called you,” Chris explains.

Buck takes a sip of his Coke. He doesn’t know how to handle this. This kid lost his mother not even a full year ago. He’s probably terrified of losing his dad, too. 

“Well, okay, Chris… Something is going on.”

Chris pauses, midway through reaching for a chicken nugget. 

“What is it?” Chris asks. 

“Well, you know how my sister works for 9-1-1?” Buck asks.

Chris nods. 

“She says that your dad’s firehouse responded to a pretty scary call,” Buck explains. “So he’s out there being a brave hero right now. And that might take a while.”

Chris sighs. “Okay.”

“Are you still okay to hang out with me until we hear from him?” Buck asks.

Chris nods. “Yeah. Thank you for the Happy Meal.”

“Anytime, kiddo,” Buck says. 

📖

He gets the call from Chimney an hour later. They’re in the car, driving to the fire station. 

“Hey, man. Maddie says you have Christopher?” Chimney says when Buck answers the phone.

“Yeah, I do. Uh, you’re on speaker. I’m driving to you. Chris is in the backseat. He can hear you, okay?”

“Uh, okay. Hey, Chris. How’s it going, buddy?” 

“It’s good. Buck bought me chicken nuggets,” Chris says.

“Oh, that’s great, kid,” Chim replies.

“Uh, so, h-how is Eddie?” Buck interjects.

Chim takes a moment to reply. 

“Well, listen. He’s okay. But it was a hard call. And Eddie… Your dad, Chris, he was… He was underground for longer than we would have liked. He had some trouble getting out. So he’s pretty cold and a little banged up. But he’s gonna be just fine.”

Buck feels a wave of relief.

“That’s great, Chim,” he exhales. “Thanks, man. We’re on our way. We cool to stop by the firehouse?”

“Yeah. We’re on our way back, too. I think Eddie would really like to see Chris.” 

“I want to see my dad!” Chris exclaims. 

“We’ll be there soon,” Buck promises.

[layce2015]

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Provenance

Masterlist

*3rd Person POV*

Dean was chatting up with a young woman the bar but he was only paying her half of the attention. Most of the time that he was talking to this lady, he would look up and see from across the place (y/n) talking to this tall, tan-skinned dark-haired man in a three piece suit.

The man smiled at (y/n) then the two laughed at whatever she said, this made Dean alittle angry as he felt boiling feeling in his chest. But he turned his attention back to the woman as they continued to talk until, eventually, she started to give him her number.

"Seven, Four, Two Zero." She said after Dean types it in his phone. "Seven, Four, Two, Zero. All right, you're in there. Perfect. So is that Brandy with a 'y' or an 'i'?" He asked her and he just happened to glance over to see (y/n) and the man walk closer to each other. The man's eyes roam over (y/n) before he nods over his shoulder and (y/n) nodded, a coy smile playing on her lips.

Sam, meanwhile, sits at a table strewn with papers as he looks through them. He gestures to Dean, who looks at him then gives him a 'wait' gesture as he laughs at something the woman whispers. Sam gestures again and Dean's smile drops. "All right, listen, I gotta go. Hold that thought, I'll be right back, okay?" He said and he looks around but lost sight of (y/n) and three piece suit guy.

Angry, he approaches Sam, as he carrys two beers. "All right, I think we got something." Sam said. "Oh yeah, me too. I think we need to take a little short leave, just a little bit. What do you think, huh? I'm so in the door with this one." Dean said, faking a smile, as he gestures towards the women.

"So what are we today Dean? I mean, are we rock stars, are we army rangers?" Sam asked him. "Reality TV scouts, looking for people with special skills. I mean hey, it's not that far off right? By the way, she's got a friend over there. Possibly hook you up. What do you think?" Dean asked, grinning. "Dean, no thanks, I can get my own dates." Sam said.

"Yeah, you can but you don't." Dean said and Sam looks up at him. "What is that supposed to mean?" Sam said and Dean clenches his jaw. "Nothing." Dean said and Sam looks around. "Where's (y/n)?" He asked. "Probably getting to know that three piece douche a little more." Dean grumbles and Sam looks up at his brother and raises an eyebrow

"Dean, you really need to figure this out." Sam said and Dean looks back at him. "Figure what out?" Dean asked and Sam scoffs in disbelief. "Nevermind." Sam mutters.

"Anyway....What you got?" Dean asked him, changing the subject. "Mark and Ann Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their own home, a few days ago. Throats were slit. There were no prints, no murder weapons, all..." he said then he looks up and sees Dean looking around the bar before he looks back at the women at the bar.

"Dean!" Sam shouts and Dean looks back at him. "No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and window locked from the inside." Sam said as Dean drinks his beer. "Could just be a garden variety murder you know, not our department." Dean said. "No. Dad says different." Sam said.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked and Sam points at the map. "Dad noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. First one here in 1912, second one right here in 1945, and the third in 1970, the same M.O. as the Telescas. Their throats were slit, doors were locked from the inside. Now so much time had passed between murders that nobody checked the pattern, except Dad. He kept his eyes peeled for another one." Sam said.

"And now we got one. All right, I'm with ya. It's worth checking out. We can't pick this up til first thing though right?" Dean asked. "Yeah." Sam said as Dean looks up and then his face becomes serious. Sam gives him a confused look before he turns around to see (y/n) and the man coming out of the bathroom.

The man was straightening his tie and jacket while (y/n) was straightening out her shirt and fixing her hair. The two talked and the man smiled as he hands her a folded piece of paper and winks at her. (Y/n) smiles as she takes the paper and the guy leans in and gives her a passionate kiss.

"Good." Dean grumbles as he turns around. "Dean..." Sam said as Dean goes up to the women and talks with them. Sam sniggers and shakes his head at this, he loves these two with all of his heart but he couldn't believe how stupid these two were acting about their feelings to one another. He didn't understand how he could see it but Dean and (y/n) couldn't. Or maybe they could but they are just too stubborn to say anything.

He scoffs and takes a swig of his beer as Dean walks away with the two girls.

*(y/n)'s POV*

The next morning, Sam and I come up to the Impala and see Dean sleeping, slouched in the passenger seat and with sunglasses on. Sam and I walk around the car then I lean in and honk the horn. Dean jumps a foot in the air as Sam sits in the drivers seat and I get in the back seat, both of us laughing.

"Man, that is so not cool." Dean grumbles as he adjusted his sunglasses. "We just swept the Telescas with EMF. It's clean. And last night, while you were....well...out..." Sam said as he looks over at Dean, who smirks. "Good times." He said and I shake my head.

"We checked the history of the house. Nothing strange about the Telescas." I said. "All right, so if it's not the people and it's not the house, then maybe it's the contents. Cursed object or something." Dean said. "The house is clean." Sam said. "Yeah I know, you said that." Dean said. "No, he means  it's empty. No furniture, nothing." I said and Dean looks at us, confused.

"Where's all their stuff?" He asked us.

We parked at a art auction, which was held in this very large and nice house, and began to wander around. The three of us looking really out of place in our casual, rough clothing. "Consignment auctions, estate sales. Looks like a garage sale for Wasps if you ask me." Dean said after he takes some finger food from a tray on a table

"Can I help you gentlemen and lady?" A man asked us. Dean looks him up and down and then puts more food in his mouth. "I'd like some champagne please." He said, putting on a posh voice. "He's not a waiter." Sam said to him, sharply, as I pinch the bridge of my nose and shake my head.

"I'm Sam Connors." Sam said as he holds his hand out to the man, who just looks at him. Sam moves the hand he's holding out then points at me and Dean. "That's my brother Dean and our work partner, (y/n). We're art dealers, with Connors Limited." Sam said.

"You. Are...art dealers." The man said, disbelieving. "That's right." Sam said as I nod at him. "I'm Daniel Blake, this is my auction house. Now gentlemen and lady this is a private showing, and I don't remember seeing you on the guest list." Mr Blake sneers at us. "We're there chuckles, you just need to take another look." Dean said just as a waiter goes past with drinks on a tray.

"Oh. Finally." Dean said, swiping a drink from the tray. He turns back to Mr Blake, sniffs the glass, raises his eyebrows then turns and walks away. Sam and I hastily follow, shooting Dean dirty looks. "Cheers." I said to Mr Black before we walk off.

We check out the items for auction but then we become drawn to the painting of a family, which was kinda creepy looking. It was a family of five, two boys, one girl and the mother and father. The father seemed to be looking down at the girl and all of them had no smile on their faces, they all seemed pretty grim and dull....and creepy, did I mention that?

"I fine example of American Primitive wouldn't you say?" A woman's voice asked the boys and I turn to see a sleek, classy, extremely good looking young woman in a black dress coming down a spiral staircase. We stare at her as she turns her back while taking the final part of the stairs. Sam turns back to look at the painting again and Dean, oogling, slaps Sam on the back and continues staring while I just look down at myself feeling even more underdressed.

"Well I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses. But you knew that, you just wanted to see if I did." Sam said to the woman as she walks up to us. "Guilty. And clumsy. I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake." She introduced. "I'm Sam. This is my....brother, Dean. And my friend, (y/n)." Sam said while Dean continues to stuff his face from passing trays.

"Dean. Can we get you some more mini-quiche?" Sarah asked him. "I'm good, thanks." Dean said, in between mouthfuls, and I shake my head. "Just ignore him." I said to Sarah and she smiles at me before she turns to Sam.

"So, can I help you with something?" She asked him. "Yeah, actually. What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?" Sam asked her. "The whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me, selling your things this soon. But Dad's right about one thing, sensationalism brings out the crowds. Even the rich ones." She replied.

"Is it possible to see the provenances?" Sam asked her. But before she could tell us anything else, Mr Blake comes up to us. "I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that." He said as he glares at us. "Why not?" I asked him. "You're not on the guest list. And I think it's time to leave." He replied.

"Well we don't have to be told twice." Dean said, putting on his posh voice again. "Apparently you do." Mr Blake said, snidely. "Okay. It's all right. We don't want any trouble. We'll go." Sam said and we walk off.

"Grant Wood, Grandma Moses?" Dean said, questioning, to Sam as we come up to the motel room. "Art history course. It's good for meeting girls." Sam said. "It's like I don't even know you." Dean said as he unlocks the door and we enter the room to see that it has this retro 70s disco fantasy theme

"Huh." The boys and I said together before we move into the room and began dumping our bags. "You sure you don't want the bed?" I asked Sam. "I mean, I can go purchase my own room or I can take the couch..."

"No, no, it's fine. I'll sleep on the couch." Sam said and I shrug. "Okay, if you insist." I said.

"What was...providence?" Dean asked Sam, curiously. "Prov-e-nance. It's a certificate of origin, like a biography. You know we can use them to check the history of the pieces, see if any of them have a freaky past." Sam said. "Huh. Well, we're not getting anything out of chuckles, but Sarah..." Dean said as he snaps his fingers at Sam, smirking. "Yeah, maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin." Sam said, smirking back.

"Not me." Dean laughs and Sam looks up at him then realized what he was getting at. "No no no, pick ups are your thing, Dean." Sam said. "It wasn't my butt she was checking out." Dean said and they exchange a look.

"In other words, you want me to use her to get information." Sam said, slightly annoyed. "Unfortunately, Sam, sometimes you gotta take one for the team." I said as Dean pulls out his phone and hands it to Sam. "Call her." He said.

After returning from his date with Sarah, Sam and I were at the table and looking through the papers Sarah gave him, while Dean was sitting on the bed while sharpening his blade on a whetstone. 

"So she just handed the providences over to you." Dean said, questionable. "Provenances." Sam corrected him. "Provenances?" Dean said, haltingly. "Yes. We went back to her place, I got a copy of the papers..." Sam replied.

"And?" Dean said, questioning. "And nothing. That's it. I left." Sam said. "You didn't have to con her or do any...special favors or anything like that?" Dean asked and I shake my head.

"Dean, would you get your mind out of the gutter, please?" Sam pleads, annoyed. "You know when this whole thing's done, we could stick around for a little bit." Dean said, after giving a little laugh.

"Why?" Sam asked him. "So you could take her out again. It's obvious you're into her, even I could see that." Dean said and I shrug a bit. "He's not wrong, Sam. I could see it as well." I said and Sam looks at me then at Dean before he scoffs then looks back at his paper.

Dean and I look at each other for a moment, confused, just as Sam said. "Hey, I think I've got something here." Dean comes over as Sam holds out the papers. "Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family, painted 1910." I read. "Now compare the names of the owners with Dad's journal." Sam said to us and Dean checks John's journal. "First purchased in 1912, Peter Simms. Peter Simms murdered 1912. Same thing in 1945. Oh, same thing in 1970." Dean reads.

"Then stored, until it was donated to a charity auction last month. Where the Telescas bought it." Sam said and we all share a look. "So what do you think, it's haunted? or cursed?" I asked them. "Either way, it's toast." Dean said as he starts to get ready.

That night, Dean leaps and easily scales the meters high metal gates and sprints into the mist. "Come on!" Dean whisper-yells at us and we follow him.

Sam, wearing gloves, starts to disarm the security alarm and succeeds. "Go ahead." Sam said to me and I, also with gloves, pick the lock.

We shine our flashlights around inside, quickly searching for the painting. Dean spies it upstairs and we sprint up the spiral staircase. Holding his flashlight in his mouth, Dean flicks his switchblade and cuts the painting from its frame. We grab it and run out of that building as quickly as possible.

We get out onto a dirt road and throw the painting in the dirt. Sam and I were holding our flashlights as Dean readies the matches. "Ugly ass thing. If you ask me, we're doing the art world a favor." Dean said and he drops the match and the painting ignites, burning slowly.

The next day, Sam and I were in the motel room when Dean runs out of the bathroom. "We got a problem -- I can't find my wallet." Dean said, in a panic. "How is that our problem?" I asked him. "'Cause I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night." Dean said and Sam and I look at him, horrified.

"You're kidding, right?" Sam asked, terrified. "No. It's got my prints, my ID, well my fake ID anyway. We gotta get it before someone else finds it. Come on." Dean said and we head out.

We hurry back at the auction house and look around, looking everywhere. "How do you lose your wallet, Dean?" Sam asked him, frustrated. Dean throws his hands in the air and we keep looking.

"Hey guys!" A voice said and we spin around to see Sarah. "Sarah! Hey." Sam said as he tries to act cool. "What are you doing here?" Sarah asked him. "Ahh, we....we are leaving town and, you know, we came to say goodbye." Sam said while Dean walks over to Sam.

"What are you talking about Sam, we're sticking around for at least another day or two." He said to him while Sam looks at Dean, confused. Dean then gets his wallet out of his pocket and I sigh and roll my eyes as I realized what he was doing. "Oh, Sam. By the way. I'm gonna go ahead and give you that $20 I owe you." Dean said as he pulls out some money and hands it to Sam. 

"I always forget, you know." Dean said as he looks at Sarah while Sam looks at him, disbelieving. Sam takes the cash from him and glares at him. "Well (y/n) and I'll leave you two crazy kids alone, we gotta go do something...somewhere." Dean said as he grabs my arm and we leave, quickly.

Dean and I were sitting outside by the Impala, waiting for Sam, when he finally comes out but Sam seemed a bit upset or perturbed about something. "Sam? What's wrong?" I asked him as he comes up to us. "Guys...we have a problem." He said to us and we give him a confused look.

"I don't understand, guys, we burned the damn thing." Sam said as we pace around our hotel room. Apparently, after we left, Sam saw that the painting was back and looked brand new once again. "Yeah, thank you Captain Obvious." Dean growls.

"All right, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?" I asked them. "Okay, all right. Well, um, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings it's always the painting's subject that haunts 'em." Sam said. "Yeah. So we just need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy-ass family and that creepy-ass painting." Dean said before he sighs. Then I look over at Sam. "What were their names again?" I asked him.

"You said the Isaiah Merchant family right?" The proprietor of this second-hand book shop asked us. "Yeah that's right." Sam said while Dean was smiling and flicking through an old book with pictures of guns.

The man then lays a huge book of newspaper clippings the table. "I dug up every scrap of local history I could find. So are you three crime buffs?" The man asked us. "Kinda. Yeah." I said while Dean looks at the man. "Why do you ask?" Dean asked him.

"Well..." the man said and he holds up a newspaper article. The lead story on the front page says New Titanic Sinks, 1304 People Go To Watery Graves: Only 866 saved from 2,170 Aboard Liner Which Collides With Iceberg. Disaster Proves To Be the Greatest in Marine History of the World. Then he points at a side article. It reads Father Slaughters Family, Kills Himself.

"Yes. Yeah, that sounds about right." I said, not shocked by that at all. "The whole family was killed?" Sam asked, shocked. "It seems this Isaiah, he slits his kids' throats, then his wife, then himself. Now he was a barber by trade. Used a straight razor." The man replied.

"Why'd he do it?" I asked him. "Let's look. Ahh..." the man said as he begins to read. "People who knew him describe Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament. Controlled his family with an iron fist. Wife, uh, two sons, adopted daughter...." He skims on. "Yeah yeah yeah...There were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave. Which of course you know in that day and age, um....so instead, old man Isaiah...well he gave them all a shave." The man said as he draws his hand across his throat with appropriate noises, laughing.

Dean joins in but stops when Sam and I give him a look of disapproval. "Does it say what happened to the bodies?" Dean asked him. "Just that they were all cremated." The man replied. "Anything else?" Sam asked. "Yeah. Actually I found a picture of the family. It's right here... somewhere. Right -- here it is." The man said and he shows us, from the book, the same picture of the painting.

"Hey, could we get a copy of this please?" I asked him. "Sure." The man said, nodding.

[edupunkn00b]

Meus ex Machina, Chapter 18: Stepping Back

Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.

Prev - Stepping Back - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 2525 - Rated: T - CW: non graphic nudity, suggestive, swearing. A major disinformation campaign and some not-so-subtle political manipulation.

New travels fast after Logan's machine makes its debut. After each of his machine's debuts, really.

“XHT-0731, you’re cleared for landing,” the comm squawked. “Proceed to platform seven-oh.” Eyes closed, Lucas let out a slow breath then pressed to talk.

“Affirmed, proceeding to platform seven-oh.” His hands shook as he switched off the mic and he forced his grip to relax long enough for the tremor to pass. Nearly there, then he could rest. He opened his eyes and focused on the beacon lights. The dash was awash in orange glow from his powers as he fought to control his nerves.

Thirty-eight hours ago, Lucas had been hunkered down a dozen miles south of the Honshu fires when a news report of a giant blue Kiryu mech attacking corporate facilities in the States hit his automated feed. He’d groaned and buried himself deeper into his sleep sack, hoping to tune it out and grab a bit of sleep when Jan’s DC number read in Japanese snagged his attention.

He set up a crawler to find more information and hit the air. Less than two hours later, the preliminary news reports of an accidental gas release had morphed into a suspected Powered terrorist attack, a world-wide conspiracy to expose the anti-theft measures at Abracadabra shipping facilities. Frantic talking heads—human and otherwise—chattered about this abhorrent abuse of power and betrayal of the secret knowledge granted their Powereds employees—

“More like fucking lapdogs,” he’d muttered, turning up the feed.

“… and what precisely does the Chancellor plan to do now about the rising risk of Powereds who’ve gotten too comfortable with the freedoms granted them in the last Act?”

Fuck.

The ship wasn’t far from the Siberian archipelago, so he landed and procured a new transport, one with a Russian transponder. While rising seas and toxic air had changed a lot of things in the world, some old prejudices never failed to make certain events ‘news’worthy.

He fed the latest reports into a textgen and translated the results back and forth between English, Russian, and Greek a few times before sending it out in a couple of worms to all the major news feeds.

The AI bots gobbled that shit up.

He hopped ships again and took off over the Arctic oil fields on a more direct route back to the East Coast. By the time he was back in range a couple hours later, the first trickles of outrage around the disinformation bots scheming to discredit Powerds had begun to fill the Atlantic and Euro news feeds. It turned out the gas leak had simply been a terrible, horrible, and completely unforeseeable accident and the mysterious Powereds who’d converged on the site to evacuate the Traditional workers had saved thousands of lives. 

A few progressive channels were even calling for commendations for the Powereds at the site.

Lucas paused the vidfeed, Ro’s bright red suit making him easy to pick out of the crowd. Pat’s baby blue unitard was covered in so much dust it matched the giant grey gates some reprogrammed picker bot was yanking off their hinges.

Squinting at the grainy footage, he zoomed in. There was a man inside the bot, wearing it like a suit. And Pat… 

Pat was guarding his back.

“Huh,” he said to the empty ship. “Looks like Jan finally recruited somebody new.” He unpaused.

The zoomed-in feed lingered on Jan’s face for one long moment before it cut away to another talking head extolling the glory of Corporate-Powered partnerships. Lucas switched it off. He pushed the engines and navigated to the nearest landing platform. One more hop to a new ship then he could head back to his cachette in the States.

The skids had just touched down when Re’s scream ripped through his mind. His head slammed forward, bouncing first against the controls and then the deck as he fell from his chair. Distantly, he registered the wet trickle of blood running sideways down his face as he reached out.

Re wasn’t hard to find. He was afraid, overwhelmed and hurt, but… purposeful. This was no accident.

Blinding orange leaking past eyes squeezed shut, Lucas curled on the floor. He hugged his knees tight to his chest, and held his breath, steeling himself.

Then he opened himself to the turmoil in Re’s mind.

It had been a long time since Jan had last dropped his shield, a long time since he’d last recruited Re to find someone in need. Who the fuck were they looking for now? And what made them so important they should hurt Re like this?

There wasn’t much Lucas could do from a distance, but he poured what little calm he had out into the world, smiling past his tears when Re picked up a bit of it before he was suddenly cut off again.

And just like that it was over.

Lucas lay panting, eyes slowly dimming as he scrabbled together his own composure. By the time he sat up, cold, sticky blood clung to the side of his head, a small, drying pool of it left on the deck. He washed himself and then the ship, spraying a thick layer of disinfectant and running the Steri-san on deep clean to eradicate any trace of his DNA. 

The sterilizer system’s whine made for good cover as he crept out onto the mostly deserted landing pad to find a fresh ship for the final leg of his trip.

~

-“It worked.”-

Janus’ eyes snapped open, his room filled with the silence that followed a rung bell. He blinked in the darkness, the last stubborn tendrils of his dream sticky and fighting to drag him back down into sleep. He touched his face and his hand came away wet.

The house was quiet and calm, not even the usual dreams and nightmares of four other sleeping minds woven through the air.

Five. There are five other souls in this house. Five other minds here…

Five, he nodded to no-one. Five when you count—

Janus sat up, breath caught in his throat as he reached out to each of them. Virge’s mind relaxed—for once—in a dreamless sleep. The Prince’s gleaming castles he didn’t even need dreams to build in his mind. Pat’s cotton candy sweetness wrapped around a permanent, prickly worry. Logan’s unshielded thoughts screaming out, want and need and hope and pain and—

Re…

-“I told you,”- Gentle laughter poured into Janus’s head. -“I like it when you call me ‘Muse.’”

-“Muse,”- he repeated, mouth forming the word his name dancing in his mind. “How?”-

-“I told you, Jannie…”- The Muse’s thoughts were quiet, happy. Peaceful and maybe even a little spacey. A hand drew through his hair as he drifted off to sleep. He wasn’t alone in his room.

-“It worked.”- The Muse sighed, warm and comfortable and calmer than Janus could remember him being in a long time. Flashes of his night poured into Janus’ mind and he pulled back.

Mentally, he kept his distance, not throwing up a shield between them, but giving The Muse a bit of space, a bit of privacy for his thoughts and perceptions.

-“‘Night, Jannie,”- The Muse sent, a small marigold sparking to life on the pillow next to him. So bright, it almost glowed in the dark, soft orange petals lush under his fingertips. -“Will I see you in the morning?”-

-“Yes! Good night, dear Muse,”- he sent back, smiling when The Muse’s thoughts settled into sleep. “See you in the morning.” Reaching slowly, half expecting the flower to dissolve at his touch now that The Muse was asleep, he plucked up the stem, brought the blossom to his nose and inhaled. It smelled just like the flowers Patton grew in the cool house out back. Even in sleep, The Muse’s control was flawless.

He lay there a while, waiting for the flower to disappear. It never did. The rest of the house was asleep, flitting in and out of dreams. But even The Muse’s dreams were peaceful and quiet, a hushed buzz in the air.

When Machina had come to him with his plan, Janus had been afraid to hope too much. He’d permitted the experiments as long as Ro wasn’t too worse for the wear and remained a willing partner in the tests. Subject might be a better word. But he’d never actually expected the device to work. It was such a careful balance, blocking just enough of the world from him—and blocking enough of The Muse from the world. Over the years, they’d tried more times than he could count to adjust the power of his room’s shield over the years, had tried to lower it.

But each time the world poured in, it had been too much. It had always been too much.

As he bobbed in the ebb and flow of The Muse’s dreams, Janus couldn’t deny Machina’s device had indeed worked. He’d been wrong. All these years, he’d been wrong.

Had he given up too soon? Had they truly been just months from a breakthrough, just months away from some magic machine that could give The Muse enough control to be free?

What would life have been like then? If he hadn’t given up? If The Muse was just Re, having dinner with them, bickering with Ro over who got the bigger cookie or who’s turn it was to fly the transport.

All those times The Muse had asked about Luc, eyes swimming in tears, asking him to explain again why Luc had left.

What else had he been wrong about?

Janus smelled the flower again, petals tickling his nose. Ro was sleeping better, he noticed, the white noise of his brother’s mental presence a tonic he hadn’t had in a very long time. Janus relished his own relief, too, an empty ache suddenly filled, like putting on a ring that had been lost.

Janus stared down at his left hand. It’s likely he and Ro weren’t the only ones who’d felt the return of The Muse’s presence. Still carefully cradling the flower, Janus pushed back the covers and climbed out of bed.

He had a visit to make.

~

-“The sun’s been up for hours, Sleeping Beauty,”- Re’s imagined voice needled him and Roman rolled over, head buried under the pillow.

Re could just fuck right off. Machina’s eyes had that gleam in them when the latest prototype had passed its first tests, muttering about how they almost had it and he needed some time for just one more adjustment.

The same gleam that invariably meant the next day he’d push it too far and Roman would end up with another migraine. Or worse.

So yes, Roman was going to get his beauty sleep while he could, thank you very much! He burrowed back under the covers and willed the return of sleep.

-”Come on, Ro Bro! Get up!”-

Roman’s eyes snapped open and he flipped over in the bed, listening. It wasn’t yet dawn and Virge shifted next to him. “Y’okay, Princey?” he mumbled, reaching blindly for his arm.

“Ye-yes?” he said, that old hole in his chest suddenly… filled. The eerie silence in his mind, the quiet corner he’d spent every waking moment over the past few years fighting to ignore was… no longer silent.

His mind hummed, music and phrases and snippets of stories twirling together in a happy pas de deux. Half-awake, his own thoughts swirled, a semi-conscious call and response of ancient lyrics, dialogue from movies. Old arguments, minor and serious.

“Do…” Roman rolled to his side and faced Virge. His eyes held the same confused wonder. “Do you hear that, too?”

Virge closed his eyes, brow furrowed. Then he nodded. “Maybe… maybe not everything you’re getting, but…”

-”Re?”- Virge managed actual words while Ro explored nearly a decade’s worth of ideas and memories. -”Re, how are you doing this?”-

-”Why don’t you come find out…”- A memory flashed across his mind, stifled too quickly for Roman to process. -”Just give me a few minutes, yeah?”-

Virge had already pulled on a hoodie and opened the door. “You coming, Princey?”

~

The elevator doors were just closing when they arrived. Virge’s hand bolted out faster than he could see and they slid back open, revealing Papa Bear, pulling on gloves.  Roman’s heart sank down to his toes when he saw the big med kit at his feet. “Padre, what’s going on? Is Janus with him?”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, brows pinched in a little worried frown. “Jan messaged me in my room and he said he was getting ready and to go ahead. He…” He gave a little shrug, his tiny smile forced. “If it helps, he didn’t seem worried… just… Distracted?”

The elevator doors slid open on the lower level. The hall was silent.

“Distracted like he was talking with Re?” Virge asked, following them out of the elevator. They all stopped when they saw Re’s closed door, the shield’s warning light dark.

“Oh, fuck!” Patton muttered and ran to the door.

“Padre, wait!” Roman called after him but Virge beat them all and flung open the door.

“Re! Re, we’re here! We’re here, we’ll fix—Oh!” Virge froze just inside the doorway then looked down at the floor. “Oh, um, we—”

“Kiddo, what’s—Oh…” Papa Bear covered his mouth, the backs of his ears tinged pink.

Roman pushed past each of them. “What in the holy hell are you two—”

Re lay in bed with the blanket pulled up to his waist, pajamas in a heap on the floor. He held a single finger to his lips, glaring at them. -”I said to wait a bit! He’s sleeping!”-

Curled against Re’s side, equally bare chested, lay Machina.

-”Not anymore.”- Amplified by Re, Machina’s thought spilled out to all of them and Roman’s nerves boiled over into a laugh.

~

The Prince’s laughter was the final proof that the only way past this was through it. Logan pushed to sit up in the bed but only succeeded in knocking more of the blanket off himself. “So I suppose everyone knows we…” He pulled the covers up to his chin and tried to ignore his own heated cheeks. Remus smiled back at him, a wordless coo filling his mind before he smacked his forehead.

“Oh fuck, your pants!” he exclaimed with a laugh and ran across the room, heedless of his own nakedness.

“Kiddo!” Patton shook his head, a mix of laughter and admonishment in his voice as Remus gathered the clothes scattered around his room.

Shaking with laughter, Remus passed Logan his pants before scooping up his own discarded pajama bottoms. He looked around the gathering and grinned. “Oh, come on. Raise your hand if you haven’t seen me naked yet.”

Given Remus’ utter lack of shame, Logan was unsurprised to see no-one’s hand go up. However, his and Remus’ jaws dropped at the same moment.

“Wait, where’s—”

The hallway beyond Remus’ room burst into strobing yellow lights. 

-”Jannie.”-

Logan had wiggled into his pants just before Patton reached for him, eyebrows raised in the obvious question. He nodded, trading his pride for a speedier trip back to his chair and his mech upstairs. The movement broke Remus from his reverie and he followed the team upstairs.

[sporco-filth]

Episode 1 - The Finale

This is the 'pilot' of that sitcom about slobs I described before.

Synopsis:

The finale of Tom’s favourite anime is airing, but a black out in the apartment complex risks ruining his plans. Kyle and Felix go to fix the problem but get locked in the basement. In order to watch his show (and save his friends) Tom must face his greatest nightmare: doing something.

[Kyle opens his door and sees Felix walking up the stairs, carrying a toolbox]

Kyle: Hey, Felix! Just the guy I wanted to see.

Felix: Yeah?

Kyle: You hungry? Fed and I are going out to grab a bite.

Felix: Sorry, Jess called. She has a leaky pipe that needs fixing.

Kyle: Boo. You’re no fun.

[He’s about to leave when an idea comes to mind]

Kyle: Actually… I have a bit of a plumbing job you could help with.

Felix: Really?

Kyle: Yeah. I need my pipes cleared. You think you can come round later tonight?

[Kyle gives a suggestive look. Felix scratches his chin]

Felix: I guess I could. What exactly is stuck in it?

Kyle: Cream.

Felix: OK? You can’t just flush it out yourself?

Kyle: I guess I could, but it’s really, really hard. And I don’t want to do it alone.

Felix: Can’t Fed help?

Kyle: I was thinking we could do it together.

Felix: Really? I’m sure it’d be an easy one man job.

[Kyle sighs]

Kyle: Boo. You’re no fun.

[He walks back inside and closes the door]

Felix: Huh? What do you mean?

[No response. Felix goes back to climbing the stairs.]

Felix (to himself): Clearing his pipes…? Oh…

[Realisation hits]

Felix: Heh that is kinda funny.

~Opening Credits~

[Kyle’s outside Tom’s door and knocks]

Kyle: Hey, Tommy! Open up!

Tom: It’s open.

[Kyle enters. We see Tom’s apartment. It’s dark, lit up only by the massive TV screen. Tom’s lying on the couch snacking on a bag of chips.]

Tom: [without looking up] What?

Kyle: Fed and I are going out for dinner. You wanna come?

Tom: Can’t. Got plans.

[He eats a chip and stares blankly at the TV.]

Kyle: What plans?

Tom: I’m watching Magical Siren Boy Tsugiharu.

Kyle: Isn’t that that dumb anime about the mermaid guy who has like weird singing powers?

Tom: It’s not dumb! It’s a masterfully crafted show that explores themes of love and purpose while skillfully blending epic battle sequences with stunning musical numbers. The show’s been going on for 13 years, with 338 episodes, five feature-length films and a spin-off series. The final episode airs tonight at ten thirty and I refuse to miss a second.

Kyle: But it’s only seven. You can come to dinner and get back before it starts.

Tom: Yeah, but they’re also showing a marathon of all the fan-favourite episodes before it and I want to watch that too.

Kyle: Suit yourself.

[Kyle leaves and heads across the hall to his place. Fed’s in the kitchen snacking.]

Kyle: Tom’s not coming.

Fed: Why not?

Kyle: Some stupid anime thing.

Fed: Oh! I completely forgot! Magical Siren Boy Tsugiharu has its finale tonight. It’s the end of an era…

[Kyle rolls his eyes, then notices Fed eating.]

Kyle: Aren’t you going to ruin your appetite?

[Kyle scratches his bum.]

Fed: No, I’m warming up. I need to get my stomach ready to eat by starting with something light before it can digest a full meal. [He eats another handful and talks with his mouth full.] Did you ask Felix?

Fed: Yeah, but he said he’s got some dumb plumbing thing to do. I guess it’s just us.

[We cut to Felix who does something, the building completely blacks out.]

Kyle: What was that?

Fed: It’s a blackout!

Tom: [from offstage] THE ELECTRICITY! WHO TURNED OFF THE POWER!? WHAT HAPPENED!?

[A loud fumbling is heard and a crash.]

Tom: Oww…

[Kyle and Fed open the door. They shine a torch from their phone and find Tom lying on the floor.]

Fed: You OK?

Tom: I’m fine. I tripped running out the door.

Kyle: You? Running? This is serious.

Tom: Of course it is! Life without electricity isn’t worth living! Everything I love needs electricity: internet, video games, microwaved food, TV. And I’ll miss Magical Siren Boy Tsugiharu! Wait, maybe I can livestream it from my phone…

[He opens his phone.]

Tom: OK, the wifi’s out, but I’ve got data still…

[The light from his phone goes black.]

Kyle: What happened?

Tom: It ran out of power.

Fed: That quickly?

Tom: Well, I meant to charge it this morning… but I couldn’t be arsed...

Kyle: That sounds more like our Tommy.

[Felix comes down the stairs using his phone as a torch.]

Felix: Hey, sorry about that guys…

Kyle: What do you mean?

Felix: I think it might’ve been my fault: Jess asked me to fix a leaky pipe and uh… well some water got on her hairdryer and there was a lot of scary sparks and stuff then it all went black.

Tom: What?! So it’s your fault I’ll miss the last ep of MSBT?

Felix: MS-what?

Fed: Magical Siren Boy Tsugiharu.

Felix: That’s tonight? Wow, I thought that show would never end.

Kyle: Am I the only one who doesn’t watch anime here?

Tom: Yes. [He turns to Felix] You have to fix this now! I can’t miss the finale.

Felix: All right, all right. I said I was sorry and I’ll make it up to you, don’t worry. The lights’ll be back on in no time.

Kyle: We better go talk to Bob. He should know what to do. Hopefully we can get it done quickly; I’d hate to see what Fed’ll do if the food in the fridge goes off.

Fed: Wait… the fridge!

[Fed runs back inside.]

Kyle: Me and my big mouth… [He turns to Felix and Tom] Well, you guys coming?

Felix: It was my fault after all; the least I can do is help fix things.

Tom: I’m too tired from trying to run before, you two go on without me.

[Tom slumps onto the ground.]

Kyle: I guess it’s just us two then. Let’s go.

[The scene changes to outside Bob’s room. Kyle knocks on the door.]

Kyle: Hey! Bob! Open up!

[A lot of rumbling is heard. The door eventually opens to show Bob, looking grumpy.]

Bob: Don’t tell me: you two are responsible for the blackout.

Kyle: No… just Felix.

Bob: I’ve had it up to here with you guys running to me whenever something goes bust here. It’s your mess, you clean it up this time.

Kyle: Bob, you know as well as I do that Felix doesn’t clean up anything, let alone his own messes.

Felix: Hey! I… yeah, that’s actually not wrong…

Bob: Here [he pulls out a ring of keys]: go down to the basement and you can find the circuit breaker. It’s probably just a matter of flicking a switch or something.

Felix: Which switch?

[Bob slams the door.]

Kyle: (Sigh). Let’s get this over with. Tom’s probably having a fit by now.

[Scene shifts back to the hallway. Tom’s fallen asleep on the ground.]

[Back in Fed’s kitchen, Fed opens the fridge.]

Fed: All right. Operation Save Food From Spoiling is go. I guess we’ll start with the cold meats…

[He grabs a pack of prosciutto and dangles a slice down into his gullet.]

[Outside the basement door, Felix is trying out the keys. Finally he gets the one that works.]

Felix: Got it!

[He opens the door to reveal the basement, which is filled with broken appliances and old boxes.]

Felix: Now, where’s this circuit breaker…

[They shine their torches around… maybe some funny quips happen.]

Kyle: Found it!

[The guys go over to it.]

Felix: It’s locked. I bet the key’s with the others.

[The door slams shut.]

Felix: Ah, Kyle.

Kyle: Yeah?

Felix: Have you got the keyring?

Kyle: No, I thought you had it.

Felix: Well I don’t.

[Felix goes to open the door but it’s locked.]

Kyle: Ok… This isn’t good.

Felix: Don’t worry, we can call Fed.

[He pulls out his phone.]

Kyle: It’s not just the door. It’s not good because I can feel a fart coming.

[Felix’s face falls.]

Felix: Oh no… please Kyle I beg you, hold on!

Kyle: You’ve got like a minute.

[He rings Fed.]

[The scene returns to the kitchen, Fed is now eating the last slice of a cheesecake. His phone rings and he picks it up.]

Fed: Yeah?

Felix (through the phone): Fed! You’ve got to come downstairs to the basement. We got ourselves locked in.

Kyle (through the phone, yelling): YOU got us locked in!

Felix: Yeah, anyway. We need you to open the door; the keys are in the lock. Please hurry! Kyle’s holding back a lot of gas.

Fed: I’ll be right there!

[He hangs up and tries to stand, but clutches his belly, flopping back down.]

Fed: Ooh… I’m not feeling too good…

[His stomach gurgles loudly.]

Maybe I can get Tom to go…

[He drags himself to the door, which is still open, and yells out.]

Fed: Tom! Tom!

[Tom snores. Fed throws the slice of cheesecake at him that he was still holding. Tom wakes up with a start.]

Tom: Huh? What was that for?

Fed: Felix and Kyle got locked in the basement and I’m not in any state to be climbing stairs. I need you to go down and open the door for them.

Tom: I ain’t going down there. Not without the elevator. Do you know how many steps that is?

Fed: You have to! Kyle’s got a massive fart brewing. Felix hasn’t built up a tolerance to Kyle’s gas like I have; he’ll suffocate!

Tom: I don’t care. Let him suffocate. I’m not walking down those stairs. I already ran today.

Fed: You ran like ten steps.

Tom: That’s ten more than I’ve run in the past five years.

[Fed tries to move closer, but his stomach gurgles and he stops, clutching it in pain.]

Fed: Please… if you don’t go… then you won’t be able to watch MSBT.

[Tom sits up straight.]

Tom: Argh, you’re right… For Tsugihara, I shall do it.

[Felix hands him his phone.]

Fed: It’s dangerous to go alone! Take this.

[Tom stands up and wields the phone above his head, the torch light on.]

Tom: With the power of the Seven Seas flowing through me, I shall banish the darkness!

[Tom slowly walks down the stairs.]

Fed: You could go a little faster…

[Back in the basement. Kyle is straining.]

Felix: Please, hold it in!

Kyle: I don’t know if I can do it (grunt). This one feels pretty strong.

Felix: You must!

[Tom on the stairs, slowly going down. He pauses to catch his breath.]

Tom: Whew… I don’t know if I can do it… it’s so many steps.

Fed (from upstairs): You’ve only gone down half a floor.

Tom: I could do without the running commentary, thank you!

[In the basement. Kyle is sweating.]

Kyle: I’m sorry Felix… Ahhhhh…

[He relaxes and farts. It’s long and loud. Felix covers his mouth with his top.]

Felix: GAH! HELP! HELP!

[The door opens and Tom appears. He immediately covers his mouth.]

Tom: Ugh! I come all this way to save you and this is how you repay me?

Felix: Tom! My saviour!

[He grabs Tom into a hug. Tom pushes him off.]

Tom: OK, OK. That’s enough. I did this for Tsugihara, not you. Here: I believe you lost these?

[He hands out the keys. Kyle takes them.]

Kyle: I’ll take it from here. You guys should head up to get some fresh air.

Felix: I’m not sure my nose will recover from this…

[Tom and Felix leave the room. Kyle goes to the circuit breaker and opens it.]

Kyle: Let’s see…

[He flicks a switch and, after a bit of a sluggish start, the lights flicker back on.]

[Back upstairs, Fed, still eating, sees the lights turn on.]

Fed: They did it! Yes!

[He jumps up but immediately regrets it and clutches his stomach.]

Fed: Oooh…

[Soon after, the guys enter the room.]

Felix: I’m sorry again for all the trouble I caused, but I guess it’s all fixed now.

Tom: And not a moment too soon. I’ve got a finale to watch, see ya.

[Tom leaves. Kyle notices Fed’s discomfort.]

Kyle: You alright there?

Fed (not alright): Yep. Just a bit of a stomach ache… I ate too much too fast… And it’s like the UN down there: I don’t think that leftover Chinese is getting along with the Indian curry.

[His stomach gurgles ominously.]

Fed: Uh oh…

[All of a sudden, Fed releases a loud fart.]

Felix: No! Not again! Ack-urgh!

[He runs out of the room.]

Fed: Sorry Kyle…

Kyle: Heh, no stress. I’ll love you no matter how bad you stink. After all, you have to put up with my stenches, now it’s my turn to deal with the smell.

Fed: Aww, you’re so sweet.

Kyle: And anyway, [he gently rubs Fed’s gut while savouring the smell]  you know that it kinda turns me on. How about we cancel dinner and have some fun at home?

Fed: I think that sounds wonderful. Also, I may have just eaten everything in the fridge…

[In Tom’s room, he’s now settled back on the couch and ready to watch TV.]

Tom: Ah, at long last…

[The MSBT theme music plays. Suddenly it stops.]

News host: We interrupt this broadcast for a breaking news bulletin.

Tom: No! Don’t interrupt!

News host: His Excellency the Honourable Sir Arthur Vandeleigh, former Governor-General of Australia, has died peacefully in his sleep.

Tom: Come on, come on…

TV host: We have a three-hour obituary scheduled in honour of this great man who valiantly served his country.

Narrator: Though he may have inhabited the role for only three months, Arthur Vandeleigh’s tenure as Governor-General was…

Tom: NOOOOOO!

~End Credits~

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch3. domestic encounters

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, n have been taking care of your sick mom ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, mild love triangle(s), gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 3/x (probably 10)

ᰔ word count. 14.1k (i like this number)

a/n. hello hellooo my ihm bb's :'') so good to see you all again. so this is actually the first half of an original 26k word chapter 3 that i had written lmfaooo i genuinely entertained the idea of posting a 26k word chapter but like gat damn. idk i thought it would be too much. so there is this first part which is 14k and then the next chapter will be 12k! anywho, this chapter was fun to write, there's still a lot of set-up tho hahah. ihm has been really fun to write for me cuz it's kinda chaotic but chill at the same time lol :0 i really hope you enjoy!! see ya at the bottom!!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 (pending)

“Soooo…..ready to consummate the marriage?”

You turn fast on your heel, so fast that Gojo almost trips over his own Welcome mat at his doorstep in an attempt to not accidentally topple over you, which you’re sure by the sheer size he has on you would’ve killed you or at the very least paralyzed you from the neck down, so it’s a good thing his hands fly out of his pockets then brace himself on the wood paneling above the door. 

“Wha–” you stutter, “what?!”

He stands up straight before leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms, the sleeve fabric of his suit stretching across thick muscle but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking. “The marriage technically isn’t valid unless we consummate it.”

You roll your eyes and dig your finger into your heel to take it off and then do the same with your other, relishing in the freedom of your feet from the shackles of constrictive feminine clothing articles, although you’re a solid two and a half inches shorter again. “I would rather make love to one of those inflatable balloon salesmen at car dealerships that flail and flap around in the wind than let you touch me for the purpose of sex.”

“Fuck that’s harsh,” he laughs, like he’s genuinely impressed by the comeback this time, “so a dead bedroom then, huh?”

“Can’t be dead if it was never alive in the first place,” you mumble as you tread into his house and toss the documents envelope you had been holding onto the coffee table. You hear Gojo make his way across the hardwood floor behind you paired with the metal clanking of keys as he throws them into the paper mache bowl on the foyer table. 

“By the way,” you hear him say, and you turn your torso slightly to side eye him only to see that he’s casually taking his suit jacket off with a flip of it backwards, “who was that guy in the courtroom that was glaring daggers into my soul?”

Your eyes widen briefly. And then you sigh. “My ex.”

He pulls the jacket off behind him by the sleeves and tosses it onto the loveseat. “Huhhh. You used to date a cop? You don’t seem like the type.”

“What?” you say as you face him fully. He’s loosening his tie now with a tug. “Why not?”

“You’re kinda…delinquent. Figured a cop would like a more ‘docile’ woman,” he says.

“You sound creepy as fuck,” you say, grimacing a little as you narrow your eyes at him.

He sighs before tossing his tie off to the side as well. “I don’t agree with it. I’m just getting into their headspace. Everyone knows how cops are. Y’know, controlling.”

“Choso is different,” you immediately spat back at him, before your head can even run the words through a filter, and you realize it came off as defensive. Your cheeks warm, because now it looks like you’re not over your ex. And you want to be. Why were you still protecting Choso’s dignity?

Gojo blinks at you, a little surprised before he swallows slowly and he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender. “Alright. I believe you.”

You turn away from him and worry your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling awkward before you scratch your elbow and then turn back to face him again. “Well. If you run into him around town,” you say, “can you try to make him feel emasculated and jealous? He did me dirty.”

Gojo runs a hand through his hair. “Uhhh. How?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, “brag about how great our sex life is or something.”

“But we have a sexless marriage.”

“Oh, yes, speaking of this sexless marriage,” you start, jutting your hip out to the side as you cross your arms sternly, “there are some ground rules that need to be set between you and I.” You point between the two of you.

“Ground rules?” he mimics after you as he undoes the top couple buttons of his white dress shirt, “like what?”

You hold a finger up. “Like no touching.” You hold another finger up. “Obviously, no sex.” You hold another finger up. “No sneaking into my room in the middle of the night.” You hold another finger up. “No peeping in on me while I’m showering.” You hold another finger up. “No ogling me around the hou–”

“These rules sound incredibly one-sided,” he snorts. 

“Yeah, well, don’t break them, you creep.”

“And if I catch you ogling me around the house?” he asks. 

You roll your eyes. “Such a thing will not happen.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” he sarcastically affirms, and he approaches you which makes you flinch a little but you realize he’s just walking past you towards the living room.

“Y–” you stutter, “you heard me, right? Once I start living here, you have to adhere to these rules.”

He waves his hand in the air dismissively with his back facing you. “Yes ma’am.”

Your eye twitches slightly, and you storm towards him only to watch him slump down onto his couch, knees spread wide as he leans forward with a small grunt to grab the remote off the coffee table before settling back again. He lays an arm up and stretched across the backrest of the couch before he turns the TV on and scrolls through news channels. 

You make your way in front of him, obstructing the view of the TV, and he leans off to the side to try to catch a glimpse at the screen but you reposition your body so that he still can’t see it. His eyes slowly move to you and he has an irritated look on his face. 

“I’m tryna watch CNN,” he says. 

“Punishment,” you say, “for breaking any of these rules will be severe.”

He raises an eyebrow, interested all of a sudden as he tosses the remote back onto the coffee table and leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Oh? What’s the punishment?”

Honestly, you don’t know. You just want to threaten him to keep him in line. Forget the fact that he’s the one doing you the favor here with this marital arrangement, and yet you’re threatening him. But it has to be done. “You don’t want to find out,” you say, trying to sound as eerie as possible.

“Not knowing what it is makes me want to find out,” he tells you, his knee swaying side to side like a dog wagging its tail. 

You briefly glance down, and for fucks sake why is all of his clothing so perfectly fit and stretched taut whenever he does anything? You try not to eye the shape of his thighs as the black fabric stretches while he’s seated.

You clench your fists at your side, worry your bottom lip under your front teeth, furrow your brow and blink rapidly from not being able to come up with something to say, and Gojo seems to read this as worry before he laughs a little.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’m not gonna break any of your silly rules, despite how tempting it might sound to me.”

“I don’t believe you,” you mutter as you walk around the couch towards the kitchen, feeling thirsty all of a sudden. 

“Seriously. I won’t. You’re not my type,” he says from behind you on the couch, with a tone that tells you he’s trying to sound reassuring but it really just pisses you off even more, “I don’t really go after women with daddy issues.”

“Wha–” you gasp, offended, and you spin on your heel to glare at the back of his head. “Who the fuck said I have daddy issues?!?!”

“No one has to say it, I can feel it,” he says as he continues to click through channels.

You pick an avocado up out of the pile of fruits from the bowl at the center of the island, holding it over your shoulder to charge up as much kinetic energy as possible so you can chuck it at him hard enough to knock him unconscious, and it’s like he senses the malice radiating off of your body because he looks over his shoulder at you.

“What’s that in your hand?” he asks.

“A grenade,” you say, “that I’m gonna launch at you.”

“Oh, thank god,” he exhales in relief, “I almost thought it was an avocado for a second.”

You deadpan stare at him. “I don't find you funny.”

“I think I’m pretty funny,” he says mindlessly, like he’s just arguing with you for the sake of arguing.

“No. I have never once laughed at a single thing you’ve ever said. Only grimaced with disgust,” you say.

He sighs. “Look at us. We’ve barely been married for an hour and we’re already fighting.”

You abandon your empty glass on the counter, shuffling around the corner towards the front entrance of the house because you can feel the headache from your pure annoyance starting to creep up on you. You sense Gojo’s eyes on you from the couch as you shove your feet back into the uncomfortableness of your heels. 

“Where are you going?” he asks. 

“Back to my house,” you grumble, wobbling a little when you take a step towards the door and place your hand on the handle.

“When are you gonna move in?” he asks suddenly.

You freeze in your tracks at his question. You’ve never heard the question before, because you’ve never had the chance to live anywhere that wasn’t your childhood home next door. So the question is jarring at best, and threatens to make you cry a little at worst. 

“Once I get my mom into hospice,” you say, quiet enough to where it’s possible he might not have even been able to hear it over the sound of presidential election updates. And then you make your way out of his house. 

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

It’s a beautiful sunny spring morning, clouds trailing by across the sky offering momentary relief from the heat reaching the pavement, and you’ve got a good marching band walk going on as you stroll down the sidewalk of your neighborhood for your morning walk. Well, that phrase implies that you go on morning walks often. You really don’t, you very rarely have the time or energy. But today you decided it was time to turn your life around (your running shoes will see you same time next month). 

You hear some commotion off at the right side of the street, and when you lift your head up a little to clear the obstructed view of your sun visor, you see a couple of cops standing on a lawn, chatting up your elderly women neighbors with their laughter bolstering in the air. One of the cops turns around, making eye contact with you, and—  of fucking course, it’s Choso.

“Oh, fuck me,” you mutter under your breath and try to walk faster down the sidewalk in Korean ahjumma style.��

“Hey! y/n! Wait!” you hear him call out and he jogs across the street to catch up with you.

You continue to military march down pavement. “What do you want, Choso? Why are you stalking me?”

He runs up in front of you to stop you in your tracks. You frown at him and cross your arms across your chest. “I’m not stalking you,” he says, “I got a call about a stray dog out here.”

“Oh. Wonderful. So glad to know our officers are keeping us safe from cute street dogs,” you say, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“The dog had rabies. It bit an old man. Had to put it down,” he deadpans.

“O-Oh,” you stutter, cheeks flushing, “well, then, leave? Your job here is done.”

“I just—” he starts, “I want to—” He sighs, looking flustered like he’s trying to gain some sort of courage. And you’re almost entirely certain he didn’t need to garner this much courage to face a rabid dog than he seems to be needing for you. “I, uh, I want to meet your husband.”

“W-What??” you exasperate.

“To say congrats,” he says, but through gritted teeth.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah fucking right. You just wanna abuse your po-po powers to arrest him then throw him into jail then kill him to leave me widowed so that I’ll get back together with you and make a fool out of myself all over again.”

“Your capacity for catastrophization never fails to amaze me,” he says.

You’re pretty sure your therapist said something similar to you last week, too. 

“Ahhh!! y/n!!” you hear a familiar feminine voice call from down the street, and both you and Choso turn your heads toward the source of the sound.

Amaya, your neighbor, who is roughly thirty-weeks pregnant at the moment and therefore waddling down the street to get to you, is waving her arms in the air as her husband as well as another one of your neighbors follows after her. She finally reaches you and takes your hands into hers. “I haven’t seen you in forever!! How’s your mom doing?”

“She’s doing well…just getting by,” you say awkwardly, as Choso’s cop partner also approaches this little group that’s forming here, along with the elderly neighbors that he had been talking to. 

“Doctors taking good care of her?” Amaya’s husband, Ren, asks you with a twisted expression on his face and arms tightly crossed over his chest like he was gonna beat the doctors up if they weren’t. 

“Yes…” you say, “although, I think I’ll be transferring her care to Kaiser.” Oh. Fuck. You should’ve kept that to yourself. Big mouth.

You can feel Choso’s eyes on you as he watches this interaction between you and your neighbors. 

“Oh! That’s interesting,” Amaya says, and as her hands soothe over yours, she feels the bump of the ring on your left hand. She glances down. “H-Huh??? Is this a wedding ring?!”

Choso crosses his arms and tucks his hands under his armpits in your periphery.

“Y…yeeeeesss…” you say awkwardly.

“You’ve finally married?” your elderly neighbors chirp out at the same time.

You shoot them a dirty look over the word finally. “Yes.” Please drop the subject, please drop the subject.

But Amaya has always been the gossipy nosy neighbor. “To who??”

Choso snaps his face to you, intently studying your body language. You take a deep breath.

“I-I didn’t tell you?? I married Satoru!!” you chirp, as if it was a normal thing.

“Ehhh?!” you hear multiple of your neighbors’ voices call out. 

“You married Satoru??? But you hate him!!” Amaya blurts out, her voice loud and echoing down the street of the neighborhood.

“I—” you stammer, ducking your head a little to hide behind your visor, “um, oh, y’know…those feelings just…snuck up on me!”

“Awwww good for youuu,” Amaya coos, and one of your elderly neighbors comes up to you with a cheeky smile to then rubs your arm approvingly, “he’s sooooo handsome, you’re so lucky!!”

Ren lets out a hmph over his wife’s flattery of another man, and you roll your eyes, wanting to put Gojo in his place even in the face of just your neighbors, but then you remember that a loving wife wouldn’t say something like his personality makes him an ugly rat. 

“But when did this happen?” Choso’s partner speaks up, his voice accusatory. Choso hits his partner’s chest vest with the back of his hand, as if to say cut it out.

You feel pissed off at that.

“Oh yeahhh, you and Choso only recently broke up!” Amaya says, pointing between the two of you.

You purse your lips together from the anxiety of this entire conversation. “Three weeks ago. Choso and I broke up three weeks ago,” you say, not even sure why you’re disclosing your personal matters to this group of congregated people, but the peer pressure was damning, and you’re pretty sure silence on this subject in front of your neighbors would only make Choso more suspicious, “and—” you had to get your story straight, “well…within those three weeks, Satoru and I just…got to know each other.”

“Eh?” Ren speaks up. “But he was out of town for two weeks. He only came back a week and a half ago.”

You blink at him.

“Ohhh yes, yes, that’s right, honey,” Amaya agrees with a slow nod in remembrance as she pats her husband's chest, “those chocolates he brought us were from London, right?”

Choso tilts his head at you, giving you a glare with the intent of having you crack under this pressure, because you’ve just been caught in a cold hard lie. More importantly, how the fuck did you not notice that Satoru had been gone for TWO WEEKS??? He was your next door neighbor. You’ve seriously been so damn out of it these days. Also, why the fuck didn’t he get you chocolates from London?!?!?! The fucking snake. 

“A marriage within three weeks is a little odd, no?” Choso’s partner speaks up, but with less of a casual conversation tone and more of a I sense something illegal going on here tone.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Choso sighs, taking a step to stand in front of you. “Let’s all get on with our days. She doesn’t have to share any information she doesn’t want to.”

You blink in surprise at Choso’s words, of which all your neighbors acknowledge albeit slightly reluctantly as they wave goodbye to you and start dispersing back to their homes. Choso’s partner gets some notice through his radio, and he pulls it from the velcro of his chest to speak into it before heading back to their cop car with a slight jog. Once everyone is gone and it’s just you and Choso again, he turns around to face you. His arms are still crossed at his chest while he wears a very skeptical and almost reprimanding look on his face.

“What are you up to, y/n?” he immediately asks you, and you feel goosebumps tickle your skin even in the heat. “I really hope it’s not something fishy. Or illegal.”

You swallow hard. You know the U.S. federal codes in the law for marital & insurance fraud like the back of your hand, since you read through them hundreds of times before deciding if your arrangement with Gojo would be worth it. 8 U.S.C. 1033 and 18 U.S.C. 371 provide for a penalty of up to ten years in prison for insurance fraud. And under that statute, you can also be fined up to $250,000. The best case scenario is that you just have to divorce Gojo, and forfeit your chances of ever recovering from your crippling debt. And while it’s hard to prove marital fraud, Choso had reason for a personal vendetta against you, and he has the resources to launch an investigation. 

“Why would I do something illegal??” you ask, as if to convince him that the possibility was absurd. 

He takes a step closer to you, and your breathing picks up. “People do illegal things all the time,” he says, “for the thrill, out of curiosity,” another step closer, “the most common reason that I’ve seen?” He’s so close to you now that you catch the familiar scent of his skin. “Desperation.”

You catch a small gasp of air from his imposition in your personal space, and finally, your weak legs manage to take you a step back. 

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about here,” you say with a shaky voice.

He raises an eyebrow at you. And then he sighs. “Stay out of trouble.”

Your eye twitches at him, annoyance resurging but you have to bite your tongue for self preservation. Gojo’s words about cops liking more docile women ring in your ears for a brief moment, and you have to physically shake your head to get his voice out of it. 

His partner yells for him from his car, something about a call they got for a robbery downtown, and Choso spares you a warning look before he turns on his heel and jogs back to the car. The sound of police sirens mimic the panic in your beating heart as you watch them speed off down the street and out of sight.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

You pull into your neighborhood at the early hours of the morning, skin feeling dry and eyes feeling heavy with exhaustion as you yank your hospital badge clip off your scrub top to toss onto the passenger seat along with your stethoscope, releasing it from your neck like pulling a noose loose. 

Before your shift last night, you had to take your mom to the hospital because she was have shortness of breath, and her oxygen saturation was low on her pulse oximeter. She’s stable now, it was just yet another flare up of her COPD, but given her other risk factors, the hospitalist admitted her to monitor her overnight and through to the evening today if all goes well. Which meant that you could have the house to yourself for once. It might sound selfish to say, because shouldn’t the more dominant feeling be I hope my mom will be okay, but the reality was that there’s only so much of that worry you can have at a time. It doesn’t mean you’re not thinking of her literally every second of the day. It just means you’re human. 

The weirdest thing about working the night shift is seeing everyone else’s days start while yours is just ending. There’s a bit of satisfaction with it. Like imagining laughing at their faces ha ha! You have to go to work now at seven in the morning, meanwhile I get to sleep! as if working the night shift doesn’t lead to substantially higher rates of cardiovascular disease and other chronic illness, as well as an early death. So who really got the last laugh? Day shift workers. Literally.

It wasn’t something you did because you liked working the night shift. You do it because you get paid a 20% differential for it. And you need all the money you can get right now.

Your brain seems to be working more than usual if you’re able to think about all these things after a shift. Swiftly pulling into the driveway of your home, around the hull of Gojo’s obnoxious boat in the driveway, you get out of your car with your purse hanging from your shoulder and just before you shut the door, you see one of your elderly neighbors waving at you from across the street. You’re pretty sure her name is Margaret, but you’re awful with names. You do remember that she was in the posse of neighbors that were flocking you yesterday and asking you pushy questions about your marriage in the presence of Choso. And your body stiffens a little. 

She tilts her head at you as you stand in your driveway, and you awkwardly glance over at Gojo’s house.

“Oops!” you chirp from across the street, “always forget to pull into the Hubby’s driveway instead! Silly me!!”

You grab your emergency overnight stay bag from the back of your car and hurry over to Gojo’s house, knocking on the door incessantly and ringing the bell so as to not arouse any more suspicion from your neighbors about why two married people aren’t living together. “Forgot my keys!! Hahahhahaha,” you exclaim while your pounding on the door intensifies. You’re sure you're just being paranoid, because why would sweet old lady Margaret (Janice? Patricia?) snitch on you? But you’ve been paranoid all your life. It’s one of your fatal flaws. 

The door opens suddenly, right as you were about to pound harshly once again, and you stop the motion in time to not sock Gojo in the abdomen with your fist. He blinks down at you, his face a little puffy from sleep, his hair shooting out in all different directions, and he scratches at his chest through the thin cotton of his shirt, one he clearly threw on last minute before opening the door considering the fact that he put it on backwards. And inside-out. 

“Huh? y/n?” he mumbles, his voice deep and kind of raspy with sleep, “what are you doing here?”

“Just let me in,” you hiss at him, glancing over your shoulder to your elderly neighbor's lawn for a second, and then duck under his arm that was holding the door open to get inside the house.

You turn around to see him shrug his shoulders and slowly close the door, clearly too tired to deal with the bullshit this early in the AM, and he turns around to face you before leaning back onto the surface. His eyes close, like he’s trying to preserve the sleepy feeling for when he gets back into bed.

“Can I help you?” he says. His head falls back with a small thump to rest on the door.

“I’m going to sleep here for the night. Er, for the day,” you say. “I will move in starting today.”

“Okay,” he easily agrees.

You blink at him. “Um. Show me to my room.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, scratching the back of his neck as he heads for the stairs with the shuffle of his slippers across the hardwood floor. You note that he is very easily malleable and overall smooth brained when he’s sleepy. You try to ignore the fact that you find it kinda cute. 

You follow him up the stairs and he leads you across the loft into a hallway studded with a couple of doors. He opens one of them for you, his head drifting a little like he’s about to fall back asleep. “Here you go,” he says while gesturing inside the bedroom and rubbing his eye with a weakly closed fist, “guest bedroom. Uh, there’s another one near the master too that’s a bit bigger, but this one has a lock on the door. So that I don’t sneak into your room in the middle of the night.”

“Thanks,” you accept and head inside. You set your emergency overnight stay bag on the bed and then turn around to face the door to find Gojo still standing in the frame. He has his hands pushed into the pockets of his pajama pants as he squints at you. 

You feel…a little…nervous? Shy? Who the fuck were you to be shy in front of Gojo? You really don’t give a damn what he thinks about you, since a lion does not concern itself with the opinions of a sheep (you’ve been doing reruns of Game of Thrones this past week), but starting today, you’ll be in his territory, and this whole situation is so domestic that you feel vulnerable in front of him. Like the sheep somehow managed to splay the lion open this time, and now the real you is on display for him. You’re suddenly self conscious of the unruly state of your hair and the stains of IV fluid on your black scrubs and the fact that the allegedly flake-proof mascara you put on at the beginning of your shift has long since flaked all over your cheeks.

“Um. Can you leave?” you say in a small voice.

“Huh?” he responds, like he himself forgot that he was still standing there. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” He lets out a very long exhale. “Make yourself at home.” And then, still facing you, he walks off to the side veeeeeeery slowly until he’s out of sight.

You walk up to the doorframe and peak your head around to the left to see him still standing there.

“Satoru. Stop treating me like I’m some animal at the zoo. Leave.” 

“It’s just so weird seeing you in my house like thi—”

You slam the door on him, your breathing finally slowing down again as your palms lay flat on painted white wood. You move your hand down to the handle, thumb and forefinger lingering on the lock as you look at it for a moment, but ultimately decide against locking it.

The room has a bathroom attached to it which is nice. The bed is a queen size, fitted with light blue and eggshell white sheets, tucked neatly spare for one corner of the bed where the duvet is flipped over. To the left of the bed is a nightstand and to the right is a dresser that looks very new. You take a glance at your reflection in the mirror sitting above it, and let out a small gasp at your less than flattering appearance. 

A five minute shower does you wonders, and you pat yourself dry with a towel that matches the shower curtain. You find one of your floor-length vintage nightgowns, with the long frilly sleeves, after rustling through your overnight stay bag, along with a toothbrush and some moisturizer. 

As you brush your teeth, you pace around the room. There’s a little staggered rack near the window that is lined with plants and the blinds are angled perfectly for sunlight to get through to them. You poke your finger to one of the plant’s soil and notice that it’s damp. Been watered recently. Gojo is a plant guy? He really doesn’t seem the type. Well, actually, he’s pretty vain about his avocado tree. But houseplants were a different story. A whole different trope of person.

After getting ready for bed, you slip into the sheets and lay stiff despite the comfortable mattress as you stare up at the ceiling with the duvet tucked under your arms. It’s bright in the room. Back home, you have blackout curtains, which help you sleep because it blocks out the morning light. Here, you don’t have that. You don’t have your melatonin either. But you do have the exhaustion in your veins, making you blink slowly and slowly until the water in your eyes feels as thick as oil. You’re so tired to the point that you can’t even sleep.

You force your eyes to close anyway. You’ll pretend you’re a queen in a palace, here in a foreign land she has recently conquered under her empire. A daydream that you find doesn’t really help you drift off to sleep. But counting sheep never fails you. 

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

You awake in the afternoon with a headache that pounds at your head like the FBI is trying to infiltrate your own mind. And all you can hear now is the FBI OPEN UP!!! meme as you groan and rub at your temples with one hand while leaning over the bed to pet at the nightstand for your go-to bottle of Tylenol just to–

Pet around at nothing.

“Mm?” you mumble, opening your eyes cautiously before harsh light makes you close them again. But even behind the protection of your eyelids, you’re still very keen on the brightness that finds you in this room. Finally, you’re able to blink the sleepiness away and adjust to the light, and when the blur of your vision subsides, you realize that you’re in a bed that is most definitely not your own. And then you remember.

You spent your first night (well, technically morning and early afternoon), at Gojo’s house.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, balled up fist rubbing at your eyes ferociously as you sit groggy from the sleep that enveloped you so performatively after your shift last night. You can’t even remember coming to his house, which is concerning, since that could mean you forgot to do a lot of other things when coming home. Like changing your clothes, and scrubbing your make-up off. But it seems like habit and routine has saved you, since you glance down and see yourself in one of your nightgowns and your skin doesn’t feel dry.

A loud thud! noise from directly beneath you startles you, jolting some of the sleepiness out of you, and you finally feel inclined to head out the door.

You make it across the loft and to the top of the staircase so you can peer over the railing to the downstairs floor. But from the top, you can’t see anything except for the entry area and the family room, but you assume the sounds you hear are coming from the kitchen, because it sounds like the closing of a fridge and ceramic on marble paired with footsteps on hardwood. Lifting the hem of your nightgown up so you don’t trip over it, you creep down the stairs, diligent in avoiding the 2nd and 7th step (you’ve since learned that they creak a little), and make steady progress in getting to the bottom of the stairwell to then stealthily peak your head around the rail and peer into the kitchen. You only have a view of one side, the long counter strip with the stove and the fridge, but you freeze when you’re met with the sight of a man standing there shirtless pouring orange juice into a coffee mug.

You’re temporarily shocked, your fight of flight immediately kicking in as you clutch the imaginary pearls around your neck in fear…but then…you slowly…find yourself starting to stare. This man’s back is huge, massive really…with tense and defined muscles, expansive smooth lines with ridges that meet bone. His shoulders are broad, rounding down into strong arms that are split with veins. And your eyes trail the way his waist narrows down to his hips, of which gray sweatpants very loosely hang from. Honestly, if the door in the movie Titanic was as large as this man’s back, then maybe Rose AND Jack could have fit on it and survived. (a/n. basically picture this)

And in the middle of your drooling, you realize. That this man. Is. Gojo.

Which should be a relief to you, because if it wasn’t Gojo, and there was just some random man in the house, then you’d have to start looking for a weapon of sorts. But instead you just continue to watch him silently without coming out of your hiding. Shirtless in his own kitchen (a crime, really) as he pours OJ into a black mug (who the fuck drinks juice from a coffee mug). He suddenly turns around to face the island and a small gasp leaves your lips before you duck your head behind the rail to hide yourself from his line of sight, and when you realize you’re in the clear, you slowly peak your head back out.

The sight of his chest and torso nearly knocks you breathless, because why is his skin so smooth…and taut across the defined muscles of his abs, glistening with a sheen you can only guess is a salty layer of sweat. His fringe is damp, sticking to his forehead and the sides of his face, a droplet of sweat rolling down from his temple towards his chin but he uses his bare shoulder to wipe the sweat off before it can get that far. He brings the mug of OJ to his lips and tips it back with a swallow, the thick muscles of his neck rippling and rolling with the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, a singular droplet of orange juice escaping from the corner of his lips, trailing down the vein on his neck and into the territory of his chest. Okay. You were being creepy as fuck right now. He can’t find out that you’re staring at him like this, you’d literally move to a different country if he ever caught you. And yet, for some reason, you just can’t stop either. 

He pulls the mug from his mouth, letting out a large exhale since he literally just gulped it all down in one go. He places his palms flat on the table, slightly distant from one another, as he takes in the sight of his counter, while you take in the sight of the way his biceps bulge and the veins on his thick forearms tense. He looks like he’s contemplating something. And then he shrugs his shoulders slightly before grabbing the carton next to him and chugging straight from it, like whatever he poured himself wasn’t enough to quench the thirst for citrus juice he seems to have after–you can only assume–the workout he just had. 

There’s a deep noise that’s muffled in his throat in the second before he pulls the carton away from his mouth and his eyes glance at something on the floor. You can’t see what it is, but you can see the marvelous shape of his ass through his sweatpants– I mean, you can see him furrow his brow a little and then he’s suddenly crouched down on the floor, ducked behind the island and out of sight, before he mutters something that you think sounds like damn fridge…

You stand on your tiptoes on the last step, trying to peer over the obstructing view of the counter, but you trip over the hem of your nightgown, losing balance and–

–fall straight onto the hardwood in front of you, on all fours. 

“Ah,” you exclaim blandly, and in your periphery, see Gojo suddenly stand up straight from his crouched position.

“y/n?” he calls out from the kitchen, his tone surprised.

“Sorry!” you chirp as you feel embarrassment creeping up on your cheeks, “just, uh, fell down the stairs!”

“What?!?” he exclaims in a panic, and you forgot that most people would panic if someone said that to them. He rushes over to you and gets down on one of his knees to peer at your face, his hand shooting out to grab your upper arm with little delicacy out of concern, and his eyes roam all across you to assess for injuries. “Are you okay??”

“Just!” you chirp as you yank your arm out of his hold, “Peachy!” You’re not able to make eye contact with him as he remains kneeled next to you, but you can’t find yourself able to move either. So you just relish in the ridiculous feeling of being on all fours in your vintage grandma nightgown in front of your shirtless and, breaking news: very hot, fake husband. God you can smell the musk and sweat from him when he’s this close, and it’s sexy. You have to be careful to not just straight up mount him on the floor right now. Much to your aroused dismay. 

“Um,” you squeak out, “can you put a shirt on.”

“Huh?” he looks down at himself, like he forgot he’s half naked. “Oh. Yeah.” He stands up. “Sorry, I’m not really used to having someone in the house anymore,” he says, and his use of the word anymore isn’t lost on you. 

He heads over to the coat closet, pulling a gray sweatshirt that’s a shade darker than his sweatpants off of a coat hanger and then pulling it on over his head. He pulls the hood off, and now his hair looks damp with sweat and sexily ruffled up. And he’s also in a comfy-looking sweatshirt. That was way hotter than being shirtless, for fucks sake. You wonder if he’d reconsider being shirtless again. He’s kneeling down beside you once more, and yes you are still on all fours just staring down at the hardwood floor like an animal paralyzed with fear. 

“Have some decency, please. Especially since I am to start living here from today onwards. I would appreciate modesty around the house,” you say as a tactic of self preservation. “Take note of my attire–appropriately covering all skin.”

“Are you gonna stand up?” he asks you.

“No. I shan't.”

“What? Why not? And why are you talking like that?” 

“It appears I am frozen.”

“Are your knees okay?”

“I believe so.”

He sighs and gets up from his knelt position, then suddenly comes up behind you, bending over to wrap his arms around your waist tightly before picking you up with the same ease in which someone would pick up a plastic lawn chair. You gasp, still retaining your four-legged creature formation, until he shakes it out of you and then sets you back down onto your feet. 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he says with a sigh as he heads back towards the kitchen, and he’s back to crouching down somewhere behind the counter.

You shuffle your feet over to the kitchen and peer over the kitchen island to see that he’s examining the floor in front of the fridge.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He scratches at his eyebrow. “The fridge is leaking again.”

“Oh.”

He clicks something on both sides of the fridge's feet and then grips the corners of its body, pulling it out from the wall with a small grunt leaving his lips. Even with the baggy sweatshirt, you can see the curves of the muscles in his arms as he works. 

You place your elbows on the island and hold your face in your hands as you watch him. “How are you gonna fix it?”

He’s dabbing at the wet hardwood with a very worn out rag to get it dry. “I just have to shut the water valve off for a bit.”

“How do you do that?”

He points over his shoulder with his thumb, and you trace the line of it to the cabinet under the sink. 

“Really? You’re gonna get under the sink?”

He dusts his hands off and tosses the rug off to the side. “Uh-huh.”

“Are you sure you can fix it?”

“Yeah. No problem.”

“How long has this been an issue?”

His gaze flicks to yours briefly before he stands up. “About a week.”

“Don’t you think you should just call someone?”

“What?” He turns to face you and crosses his arms across his chest while raising an eyebrow at you, like you’ve just deeply offended him. “Why the fuck would I call someone for a job I could do myself?”

You tilt your head at him, trying to hide the smirk that threatens to tug at your lips. “Well you said it’s been a whole week.”

“Yeah, I’ve–...I’ve just been busy. So I haven’t had a chance to really take a look at it.”

“Ohhhh okay okay,” you say in a teasingly skeptic tone, poking your tongue to your cheek as it’s getting progressively harder to hide your grin.

“What?” he says to you, impatiently.

“Nothinggg,” you purr, and you watch him with a cheeky look on your face as he glares at you before he disappears off towards the garage.

He comes back with a tool box and you spend some time poking around in it curiously as he grabs a couple of tools before crouching down in front of the sink.

For some reason, you feel shy watching him. Maybe it’s because when he’s laying on his back, the top twenty-percent of him ducked underneath the sink, and he’s working his hands on some pipes that you can’t see, his sweatshirt rides up a little and you can see the very lower part of his torso. And then when he yanks particularly hard on something, it rides up more and you can see his abs tensing and relaxing with almost every breath he takes and every move he makes. You’re just grateful he can’t see you, and the urge to clench your thighs together is almost stronger than your brain’s disposition to convince yourself that he’s not attractive just because you think he’s annoying most of the time. 

“y/n,” he calls out to you from under the sink, and you jump a little. He tilts his head a little so he can make eye contact with you from under. “Can you hand me those slip-joint pliers?”

“I have no idea what that is or where to even begin to know what that is.”

“The pliers that have the serrated edges,” he tries.

“Huh?”

“.........shark with sharp teeth.” 

“Oh! Yes. Yes, of course,” you grab them and then shuffle over to him before crouching down, balancing on your toes, “here you go.”

“Thanks,” he says in a flat tone, slowly taking them from you. 

“You’re welcome!” you chirp. You feel very useful. 

His head disappears back to deep underneath the sink again to work on stuff again. Even though this whole thing is probably just his masculine ego wanting to fix things around the house by himself rather than just call a person that is literally paid to fix these sorts of things, you have to admit that you’re not complaining for getting to watch him do something handy. 

“I’ve just– gotta–” he grunts a little and you hear the creaking of pipes, “tighten this up a bit–” he lets out another gruff noise, his voice strained with effort, and you’re ashamed to say it sounds hot. “Alright!” He pulls himself out from under the sink and stands up back onto his feet with a bounce in his step as he dusts his hands off. “Fixed. For now.”

The fridge starts making a strange whirring noise. You raise an eyebrow at him. He quickly reaches behind it and clicks some button before the eerie whirring stops.

“Okay. Now it’s fixed.”

You give him a very skeptic look. “Sure, Jan.”

“Don’t sure jan me. Trust. It won’t leak anymore.”

“Whatever you say,” you respond before heading back up the stairs to freshen up. 

By the time you go back downstairs, Gojo is nowhere to be found, and you take the opportunity to sit on his couch in the living room to then peruse which streaming services he has on his TV. It isn’t until about ten minutes later that you hear someone coming down the stairs, because he makes no effort to avoid the creaky steps.

You put your elbow up on the couch backrest and twist your torso to look at him. He’s wearing pajama pants and an unmatching black short sleeve cotton T-shirt that’s loose around his torso but tight at the arms. He’s ruffling his hair up with a hand towel, attempting to get it dry from the shower he clearly just took. As he makes his way towards the living room, you catch a waft of the clean soapy aqua fragrance of shampoo lingering in his hair. He stops about four feet behind the couch.

You glance down at his feet. “Why the fuck are you, as a grown ass man, wearing bunny slippers inside the house?”

He opens one eye to glance down at his slippers as he continues to tousle his hair dry, “oh, Juno got them for me for Christmas last year. She wanted me to wear them ‘all the time or else uncle toru’s feet will burn off from the floor lava.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face. 

Juno is Gojo’s five-year-old niece, and from the interactions you’ve seen between them, and from the way My Little Pony was the first thing that popped up when you turned the TV on, you know that Gojo absolutely adores her and vice versa. You’ve met her a couple times, even babysat her once in an emergency, and she’s a cute and bright little kid that you certainly have way more fondness for than her obnoxiously annoying uncle who is also now your fake husband. Wait, does that mean that Juno is your niece now, too?

Gojo lets out a sigh before hanging the towel over his shoulder, his hair apparently adequately dry enough for him now. He looks younger when his hair is messy and a little damp, falling over his forehead flatter than usual. It’s kinda boyish and dare-you-say charming.

He looks down at his slippers again with a pleasant reminiscent look on his face before placing his hands on his hips like he’s a baseball dad of three. “Y’know, when I was growing up–”

“Ah yes. During the Great Depression.”

He gives you an annoyed look. “Quit it. When I was a kid–”

“Back in the 1800s.”

“Aren’t you pushing thirty?” he asks you.

“Aren’t you in need of some new dentures?” you ask him.

“Fuckin’ rude,” he mumbles as he walks towards the foyer table to rip open some of the mail that was scattered across it.

“What happened when you were a kid?” you ask.

“Forget it,” he says, tucking some of his bills back into envelopes.

“What!! I wanna know,” you say.

“Yeah well I don’t want to tell you anymore,” he responds.

As you two fully grown adults continue bickering like toddlers for the better part of two minutes, your phone is ringing upstairs unbeknownst to you. 

“Wait. Shut up,” Gojo cuts off your next insult as he snaps his head up-right suddenly. 

“What?! Did you just tell me to shut u–”

“Shhhhhh,” he hushes you, turning his ear towards the stairs with a concentrated expression on his face.

You silence yourself, and then you hear the ringing coming from upstairs.

“Fuck,” you mumble as you scramble off the couch and jog to the bottom of the staircase, Gojo’s eyes on you the entire time as you run up the steps back to your room.

You hear your phone ringing on the bed somewhere but you can’t find it so you rummage through the sheets before finally spotting it, swiping on the call and bringing it to your ear without even checking the caller ID.

“Hello?” you say.

“Oh! y/n, hi there. It’s Dr. Johnson calling. I was prepared to leave you a voicemail,” he says.

“I’m here,” you say hastily, holding your phone to your ear with both hands as you feel your entire body tense up. 

You never knew what to expect with any sort of phone calls these days, especially when you’re at work or when your mom isn’t home, because a phone call could be something as simple as approving a refill on some of her medication, to something much worse than that. Something much more final than that. 

“It’s not an emergency,” Dr. Johnson says on the other line, like he can sense your fear and anxiety through the phone, “just wanted to reach out to let you know that I spoke with the hospitalist who admitted your mother to the hospital and she’s doing better now. They’ll likely discharge her by the end of the day.”

You slowly let out the breath you were holding. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I know she needs to come in for chemo tomorrow, so it’s perfect timing.”

“Yes, we’ll see her tomorrow.”

“Uh, Dr. Johnson, I do want to let you know…I’ll be admitting my mom for hospice in a couple of days,” you tell him. You wince a little, because you know it’s probably something that you should’ve discussed with him prior to all of this. “It’s…likely that you won’t have to continue her care anymore, since she’s been approved for Kaiser insurance, I’ll be transferring her care to Kaiser physicians.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other line, the briefest moment of hesitation from a self-assured doctor who always had something to say right away. “Really? That’s–...wow. I can’t say I won’t be extremely sad to not see her anymore.”

“I know…” you say, worrying your bottom lip through your teeth, feeling a sudden wave of guilt overtake your senses, “you’ve been following her progress ever since her diagnosis, even got her into remission…it’s just a little complicated with some insurance stuff and some bills as well. If I could have things my way, I would continue care with you and your team.”

Even though you can’t see it, you can tell he’s nodding on the other line. “I understand, y/n. I know that there’s more to healthcare in this country than just…receiving care. But I don’t have to explain those things to you, since you’re a nurse. Do what’s best for you and your family. Give me the details for the hospice, and I’ll have my MAs send over your mother’s chart.”

“Thank you, Dr. Johnson,” you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. “Really. For everything.”

“You’re most welcome.”

“Oh–” you stutter, in fear he might hang up right as you remembered to ask him something.

“Yes?”

“I know I’ll see you tomorrow so we can discuss it then too, but I was just wondering if the scans were back from my mom’s brain MRI she had done? I know they usually take three weeks to come back but just wanted to check.”

He lets out a low chuckle. “I had a feeling you’d follow up about that. No, there are no scans that have come back. I’ll let you know right away when they do.”

“Okay…” you say.

“I know you’re worried about a possible glioma,” he speaks up, “but let’s just try to stay positive until we see the scans, okay?”

“Yes. Sounds good. Thank you, doctor.”

“Alright. I will see you and your mom tomorrow.”

“Yes. Bye,” you say and hear his word of farewell too before hanging up. 

You stare down at the screen of your phone, taking in slow deep breaths to calm down your nerves. You just wanted these scans to come back already so that you could feel at peace knowing that your mom’s worsening neurological condition is due to her Alzheimer’s and not a tumor in her brain. The average survival length of a person with a brain tumor is low, and even worse if it’s a glioblastoma, ranging at around 12-18 months. You can buy her a few years at least with the stage of cancer progression she’s at right now, even with the possibility of remission, but if it becomes severely advanced disease then–

You gasp softly and cover your mouth with your hand, unable to even fathom the thought without feeling a feverish chill run down your entire body. Now's not the time to spiral. Deep breaths. One, two, three. Now is the time to stay positive. Just like Dr. Johnson said. 

Putting one step ahead of the other, you leave the room, cross the loft and slowly make your way down the stairs and stop at the very last step when you see Gojo rushing across the foyer with his dress shoes on, wearing a dark blue suit, save for the tie, and he looks like he’s pressed for time.

“Are you going somewhere?” you ask from the last step, your hand curled around the rail still.

“Hey, uh, yeah,” he scrambles, grabbing his keys from the paper mache bowl on the foyer table and then pats at his pockets for his wallet only to notice it’s absent. “Fuck.” He disappears somewhere into the house in a hurry and then returns with his wallet in his hand before shoving it in his pocket with the jingle of his keys too. “I had to push a couple house viewings from this afternoon up, so I need to leave.” He finally turns to face you and exhales slowly to regain his breath. “Small favor?”

“What’s up,” you say.

He rubs the back of his neck a little guiltily. “Well, Sana called a few minutes ago asking if I could watch Juno since she had to pick her up early from school, and I said sure, but I have to leave now, so–”

“I can watch her,” you say.

He claps his hands together in prayer form and holds them up to his face, “I owe you one.”

“Mhmmmmm,” you hum, watching as he resumes his haste to leave the house. And just before he heads out the door, you say— “Collar.”

“Huh?” He turns around to face you. “Oh.” He takes a second to flatten the collar of his shirt. “Thanks.” And then he’s out the door.

You sigh, relishing in the emptiness of the house. Maybe you should raid his pantry, or play porn on the TV super loud so all the neighbors think he’s a creep. But perhaps that is not appropriate, given that his sister will be bringing his niece over very soon.

You quickly head over to your house to change into something more appropriate than your nightgown, just some blue jeans that honestly make you look like a soccer mom, and then a T-shirt. You walk back to Gojo’s house and only get about five minutes to peruse his pantry when the doorbell rings.

When you open the door, you’re met face-to-face with Gojo’s sister, Sana. How would you describe Sana? Well, first of all, she’s beautiful, with all the same features as Gojo except in female form. Striking round blue eyes, silky white hair that shimmers silver underneath sunlight (you would describe Gojo less poetically than this, though). Her hair is pin straight, falling down just past her shoulders. She’s sweet, or at least has been the couple of times that you’ve met her, but she can also be a little serious and strict. The type to not really laugh at the dinner table if you make a pointed joke about the current political state of the country, but maybe it’s because she didn’t even understand the joke to begin with. Either way, she’s very different from the annoying and irritating temperament of her older brother, and how their mother managed to give birth to such two different kids is beyond you.

“Hey,” you greet her at the door with a small smile.

“Hi, y/n,” she returns with a polite smile of her own. She’s holding onto Juno’s scrawny shoulders as the kid stands in front of her, barely to the height of her mother’s hips. Juno was toying with the light pink baseball cap on her head, her hair pulled through the opening in the back and tied up into a ponytail. “I’m so sorry to bother you with her.”

“Oh! No, not a bother at all, I love getting to see her,” you say as you crouch down to get at eye level with her. “Hi Juno!”

Juno has curly white hair rather than the pin straight that her mother possessed, a feature that more closely resembles her father’s hair, along with her hazel eyes. You’ve only met Sana’s husband, Jun, once before. From what you know, he’s some type of businessman, and the first thing you noticed about him was that he was the same height as Sana. But his wife was blessed with supermodel height and was probably taller than most men, so it wasn’t surprising. Jun was hearty, almost suspiciously kind, laughed boisterously loud, and in the small amount of time you met him, it was easy to see that Sana very rarely humored his ill-mannered and awkwardly-placed jokes, but they seemed very in love with each other regardless. Apparently he and Gojo go golfing every other weekend. Information that you seem to know despite any desire to know it. 

Juno hugs her water bottle to her chest, shy as she makes eye contact with you. “Hi, auntie y/n.”

“I loooooove your baseball cap! It’s so cute, where did you get it?” you ask her.

She blinks off to the side timidly, her fluffy white lashes fluttering over her bright eyes. “Um. Uncle Toru.”

“Ohhh I see, I see! It suits you.”

Sana nudges her a little with her knee. “What do we say, Juno?”

“Thank you, auntie y/n,” she immediately squeaks out in reflex.

Your eyes catch a glimpse of the white bandage wrapped over her tiny arm and your brow furrows before reaching out to gently hold it. Juno winces a little from the sensation. You stand up straight.

“What happened to her arm?” you ask Sana.

Sana sighs as she tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “She fell on the playground at school today. It’s a pretty large scrape and it’s been hurting her a lot.”

“Did you disinfect it?”

“Oh…I just–...washed it with some water. The school nurse wasn’t there today so I just had to pick her up early.” 

“Mm, I see,” you say, “I can take a look at it. I have some neosporin in my purse.”

She lets out a relieved sigh, like she was secretly hoping you would make the offer. “Thank you. Really.” She gently pushes on her daughter’s shoulder. “C’mon Juno. Go inside and set your homework up on the table.”

Juno cranes her neck up to look at her mom. “Mommy, can I have a snack first? Pop-tart!”

“If your uncle has them in the pantry, then sure,” Sana says, and immediately upon hearing those words, Juno rushes inside the house with giggles filling the air. “But only one!!” Sana yells out to her in a strict tone, and you watch with amusement as Juno skips off before returning your attention back to Sana.

“Sooo…” she starts, a small hint of hesitation playing on her usually prim face, “I suppose we’re sisters now. Sisters-in-law.”

Your eyes widen and your shoulders stiffen. It was at least a good thing that Gojo told his family already that you two are married, because it seems that most of his extended family live here in this town. At least, you know that his sister’s family and his parents live here. Better to be heard from him directly than to run into you randomly living at his house all of a sudden when they drop by. You’re sure his family has questions about this extremely sudden marriage to say the least. You’re not sure how much they’ll try to pry, but you hope it’s not much, because you’ve never really been a great actress. “Yes. Yes, we are.”

“Mm,” she hums pleasantly at you, nodding slowly and peering off into the house beyond your shoulder, “say…I’m, um, just a little…surprised by how sudden this all is.”

“Hmm?”

“With you and my brother,” she says straightforwardly. “Obviously, you must know he’s been married before, but it’s…a little odd, it feels like just yesterday when he told us he was…getting a divorce. And now he’s married again.” She trails off when she has some sobering thought that flashes through her head. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m blabbering about this. I’m just–...I’m just thinking out loud. It must be a sore topic.”

“Oh, no, no, not at all. No worries,” you say with an awkward laugh, “I’ve, um, come to terms with it?” You try your best to come up with a believable response.

“That’s good,” she says while she runs soothing circles with her thumb over the skin at her elbow, “well, some love moves faster than others.” She displays a well-meaning smile on her face. “I’m really happy for you two.”

For some reason, your heart warms. Like when the lines of reality and imagination blur, and so you’re left here with a truly comforting feeling. Only it’s fleeting and temporary, like escapism. “Thank you,” you say softly. And after a moment, “by the way, I’m really sorry for…Satoru and I not having a proper wedding. We just wanted something simple.”

She lets out a small scoff. “Oh, gosh, don’t apologize for that. I’m sick of weddings. I was so glad I didn’t have to peruse yet another wedding registry this year. There are only so many toaster ovens I can buy.”

You’re a little surprised by the humor from her, but the two of you let out small laughs in unison at the doorstep.

Sana glances at her watch. “I have to get going. Call me if you need anything, okay?” 

You nod. “Sure. Thanks.”

You close the door slowly, watching her briefly through the stained glass window as she heads towards her car and gets inside before promptly driving off. 

There’s the sound of ruffling heard and then the sound of things falling off a shelf towards the kitchen. You turn on your heel and head in the direction. “Junooo,” you call out, “where are youuuu?”

“In here!” she chirps from the pantry room. You turn the light on to see her standing in the center with a couple boxes of cereal fallen around her. She’s holding an empty box in her hand. “The pop-tart box is empty,” she says with a pout and sulk of her shoulders as she makes the most :(( face you’ve ever seen a child make.

“Oh no,” you say, grabbing the box from her and inspecting the inside, “your devious uncle must’ve eaten them all in a manic episode.”

“What is a manic mean?” she asks you as she looks up, rubbing her ankle with her other foot.

“Oh, it’s like…crazy? He went crazy?”

She giggles at the thought.

“If you’re hungry, I can make you something,” you offer.

She shyly nods her head but her grin fully rounds her cheeks before she darts off towards the kitchen. 

You find her standing near the kitchen island, trying to get up onto one of the bar stools but to no avail. You come up behind her to pick her up then set her down on the seat, adjusting it so it’s a little higher. 

“What do you want me to make?” you ask her as you come around to the other side of the island and set your elbows up on the cold marble, leaning over to place your chin in your palm. 

“Um…” she brings her index finger up to her bottom lip in thought, “pancakes? Can I have blubbery pancakes?”

“Huh?” 

“Um…” she starts again, “last time, when I eated them at your house. Um, when I ated them at your house,” she tries to correct herself, “I really liked them.”

“Oh!” you perch up from your bent over position, “I remember! The blueberry pancakes. Aww, Juno, you remember that? How sweet.”

She becomes a little bashful and glances down at the her lap.

“Okayyy,” you say, placing your hands on your waist as you look around at the kitchen, “well I’ll have to see what ingredients I’m working with here, but hopefully I can make them for you.” You tilt your head at her before pointing a finger. “Have you ever seen the show Chopped?” 

She sits up straight with excitement. “Yes yes! Me and mommy love it.”

“Good. Let’s pretend I’m working with a mystery basket here,” you say, and then you turn around to open Gojo’s fridge. 

You can learn a lot about a person based on what the inside of their fridge looks like. You’re surprised to find the inside of his looks…sparkly? That was the only way you knew how to describe it. With clean shelves that reflect the bright lighting off the plastic, plastic that looks as mirror sheen as glass. As your eyes take in the contents inside, you notice he has some leftover thai food at the front, most likely leftovers from as recent as last night. One of the produce drawers is filled to the brim while the other is mostly empty, and you notice he separates them by leafy stuff vs. veggies. The leafy stuff is the drawer that’s filled to the brim, and you just know he’s stressed out over how to use all of it up before it starts wilting. Must’ve been on sale, you think to yourself. To the right of the fridge, there are an insane amount of orange juice cartons, and you notice he drinks the same one as you–pulp free with the added vitamins and calcium that’s made for kids. Although maybe he has an excuse for it, since he has a five-year-old niece. There’s a few containers of meal prep stacked up at the back of the fridge that look like some sort of arrangement of quinoa, chicken and Mediterranean vegetables. And then there’s just a bunch of assorted cans of beer throughout the fridge, which you assume are to appease the diverse preferences of his friends whenever he has them over. 

You grab a couple of eggs from the egg carton, placing them on the counter along with a stick of butter plus a half-full carton of milk, and peer deep into the fridge past the wall of condiments to eye for any fresh fruit such as berries, but you don’t see any. You try the freezer and are relieved when you see he has some frozen blueberries in there.

“Okay!” you shut the fridge. “Just need to grab a few more things from the pantry room and then I’ll make you your pancakes, okay?” 

Juno nods enthusiastically. “Um. Can I get my backpack?”

“Sure.” You pick her up off the bar stool to set her down on the ground and she runs to the coffee table in front of the TV to grab her things as you head to the pantry room. 

Flour, sugar, baking powder, all tucked in your elbows as you carry the ingredients back to the kitchen before dropping them onto the counter and picking Juno up to place her on the barstool again. She starts to lay out her glittery pens and pristinely sharpened pencils in front of her as well as a packet of papers. 

“I can’t believe they’re giving Kindergarteners homework these days…” you mutter under your breath as you grab a bowl. “Juno, wanna help me crack the eggs?”

“Yes!”

“Let’s go wash our hands then.”

As you mix all your ingredients together and Juno continues to stare at her papers with her face awfully close to them (does she need glasses?), you think to yourself what a nice little life this is. Although you haven’t been able to spend the day at your house like you were hoping you would, since you could finally have it for yourself, it was nice to spend it at Gojo’s. It was something different, something refreshing, something grounding. An escape that you needed. 

“Um. Auntie y/n?” Juno calls from behind you as you flip a pancake at the stove.

“Yes sweetheart.”

“How is mommy?”

“Hmm?” you hum. “My mommy?”

“Yes!”

“Oh you are just the sweetest thing. She’s doing okay. She’s just a little sick still.”

“When I’m sick,” Juno speaks up with a childlike enthusiasm in her voice, “my mommy gives me grape soor–...stir–” she struggles with the word, “shrup, ah, syrup! Grape syrup. It makes me better.”

“Ohhh honey, I know,” you coo as you try to match her enthusiasm, placing two little pancakes onto a plate for her. “When you get the sniffles, right?”

“Yes! Maybe your mommy will be better too if I give her some of my grape syoorup?”

You stop in your tracks, staring down at the food you were just plating.

The innocence of a child. It was hard to stay strong in the face of it. When you were younger, you probably would’ve thought that a magical potion would make your mom all better, too.

You turn around to face her. “Well,” you say, clearing your throat a little to fight the knot that you find is twisting it, “I think,” and now you’re blinking away the faint sheer of tears as you press your lips into a thin smile, your soft soft above a whisper, “that that is a wonderful idea.”

Juno gobbles up her blubbery pancakes with the extra maple syrup on them and you watch her take every bite. There was something satisfying about seeing a little kid eat so well. The sight made you feel well-fed on their behalf.

“Alright,” you say with a small grunt as you pick Juno up and set her down onto the ground, then take her hand to lead her over to the carpeted family room. “Let me take a look at this scrape of yours.”

Juno’s hand tugs slightly when you try to pull on it, so you turn around to see that she has stopped in her tracks halfway through the trek to the other room.

“What’s wrong?” you ask her.

“I don’t want you to see it…”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s ugly.”

“Juno,” you tug on her hand a little, “I have to see it so that I can clean it. Otherwise you might get sick. A type of sick that even grape syrup can’t fix.”

She looks up at you with curious eyes, not fearful ones. 

“There is sick like that?” she asks you.

“Yes. Now give me your arm.”

Juno follows you to the family room and stands still, the front of her jutting out slightly as she pouts, a display of her remaining disapproval for you taking a look at her scrape. You get down onto your knees and slowly undo the bandages, unwrapping the layers one-by-one before the end falls off and you’re staring at a 4x2cm superficial abrasion on her arm, and when your thumb lightly swipes at the skin underneath it, Juno winces from the pain.

You also notice she has a bruise on her left upper thigh, right below where the hem of her shorts end.

“You…only fell onto your right side, right?” you ask her.

“Mhm,” she nods.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“How come you have a bruise on your left thigh then?”

Her eyes widen slightly with shock and her head quickly snaps down to look at her thigh. “Um. Um. I don’t know. Um. Um.”

“Juno,” you say, trying to muster up a strict tone, but she refuses to make eye contact with you anymore as she stares at the carpet beneath her. You gently grab a hold of both of her wrists. “Sweetheart. Look at me.” Her eyes slowly lift up to meet yours. “I want to help you, but I can't help you unless you’re honest with me.”

Her big eyes blink at you slowly and her bottom lip quivers slightly.

“How did you really hurt yourself?”

She immediately starts bawling. Full on sobs that echo throughout the room and startle you slightly as the tears freely fall down her cheeks and she struggles to wipe them off with her left arm, but they only drip down her elbow.

“Oh–” you stutter, holding her by her shoulders, “Juno–”

She sniffles. “They–” she hiccups, “they pushed me…they always push me.”

“Who pushed you?? Who always pushes you??”

She sucks in a deep breath as she continues to cry and you struggle to wipe at her tears for her with the pad of your thumb. “The–hic–girls at school. They’re so–hic–...wahhh…they’re so mean.”

“They pushed you on the playground and that’s how you got this scrape and bruise?” you ask her.

She nods as she slowly begins to come down from her outburst, her remnant sniffles and short sharp inhales showing that she was struggling to breath. You run to grab some tissues and then come back, holding them to her nose before she blows into them.

“Oh sweetheart…I’m so sorry,” you say to her.

She suddenly runs into you, hugging you tightly, and you’re momentarily surprised before wrapping an arm around her too and then gently patting at her back.

“How long has this been going on?” you ask her.

“Mm…ever since I–hic–ever since I got on T-ball team…but they couldn’t get on.”

“Oh…” you coo, gently rubbing her back now. You’re not a mom, you’ve got no fucking clue how to navigate this sort of situation. But you can try your best to give some advice. “Juno, you have every right to feel happy and safe at school.” You gently pull her away from the hug so that you can look at her face. “And it’s okay to stand up for yourself and against anyone that is being mean to you. Don’t let them take that power away from you.”

She nods slowly, her lip quivering slightly again.

You sigh slowly before giving her another hug. “And we’ll work out something with your mom too, okay? She can talk to the teachers.”

“No!” Juno shrieks, pulling away from you suddenly. You blink at her. “No. Please don’t tell my mommy.”

“W-Why not??”

“Because–” she stutters, “um…I want to tell her myself. Because I lied, and mommy always says to me to not tell lies. So I have to fix it myself.”

You tilt your head at her, frowning slightly. You’re not exactly sure how much autonomy over such things you should be granting a five-year-old, but you decide to give her the choice. You hold your pinky finger out to her, “you have to promise me you’ll tell her though, okay?”

She nods and wraps her pinky around yours. 

After getting her scrape cleaned up and tended to, Juno spends the next hour or so watching My Little Pony on the TV as you clean up the mess you made in the kitchen. And as you’re staring out into the backyard while wiping down the cutting board, the sound of the doorbell ringing makes you jump with a startle and breaks you out of your trance.

You were prepared to open the door to find Sana standing at the entrance, but instead you’re met with the sight of a different woman.

Much older, and with all the same features, it doesn’t really take you long to figure out who she is.

“Ah! There she is!” the woman chirps out. “I’m—”

“Juno’s grandmother,” you finish the statement for her.

“—Satoru’s mother,” she instead says.

You both blink at one another.

“Well,” she chirps, “I’m both!”

Gojo’s mother appears to be a kind woman, and it’s evident that being gorgeous must run in the family. Although she has aged features, they’re still beautiful in a graceful way, where people would take a look at her and think of aging as a privilege and not a curse. Her eyes are somewhat feline, different from the roundness of those you’ve seen in her family, and her hair is a shimmering silver all around with a pretty silk press layered hair style that flatters her frail jaw. She was wearing a French-style button up dress with a rather gaudy belt around her waist, and you catch the scent of her lilac perfume even while she’s standing three feet away.

She puts her hands on her hips and has a forced smile on her face. “My son gets married and he doesn’t even tell me a peep about it, or introduce me to his new wife! I have to come all the way over here myself!” she exclaims, and her tone is like she’s trying to play it off with nonchalance but the stiffness of her features makes it look like she’s losing her mind. “Well,” she clicks her tongue, “he’s always had the penchant for never sharing anything he ever does with me.”

“Ah…I’m so sorry, Mrs. Gojo,” you say to her, unsure why you’re apologizing, but there was this energy to her that made you realize she had a skill for making people feel apologetic in her presence.

“No worries! Not your fault. I’ll deal with him later,” she says, her smile growing to where it almost fully crescents her eyes in a frightening way that almost sends a shiver down your spine, “anywhoooo,” she takes both of your hands into hers, “you’re very beautiful, and you have a very lucky-looking nose!”

“Lucky?”

“Yes, yes. You will bring luck to our family.”

“Thanks?” you say, trying to manage a smile.

She takes a step closer to you. “Tell me, what do your parents do for a living?”

“Oh! Um, well, my mom is retired, but she used to be an art teacher. My dad is in the food business, but uh, I haven’t spoken to him in years ever since my parents got divorced.”

“Ah,” she says curtly, her face blank as if she couldn’t think of a single thing to follow up with after that. She peers past your shoulder. “Where’s the little princess?”

“She’s just inside grabbing her things.” You gently slip your hands out of her hold and turn around to face the inside of the house. “Juno!! Do you need help?”

“No!!” she calls from the kitchen.

“Say, my dear,” Gojo’s mother speaks up, “why don’t you and Satoru come by for dinner this weekend? Jun and Sana apparently have some important news they’d like to share with the family, and I offered that we all hear it together over a meal. This way you can meet your father-in-law too!”

You take a deep breath in, realizing that this fake marriage agreement involves a lot more deceit than you ever thought it would. “Sure. Yes. I’d love that. Let me know if I can bring anything.”

“Wonderful!” she exclaims, just in time for when you feel Juno brush past you towards her grandma, hunching over slightly with her backpack’s weight. Gojo’s mother pulls you in for a hug which entirely startles you and you slowly wrap your arms around her as well. “It’s so lovely to have a daughter-in-law. Oh, I am just so happy to have you in our family.”

She lets go of you but still keeps you close by a delicate hold of your elbows, a gleeful smile on her face as she looks you up and down slowly.

“Bye, auntie y/n!!” Juno squeaks out, hugging your leg, and you pat at the top of her head. Her grandmother finally lets go of you and takes Juno’s tiny hand in her frail one, and you see them off to the car.

By the time you make it back inside the house, you let out a deep slow breath, one that you didn’t know you were holding in, as you lay your weight back on the front door. You feel a pressure in your head from your dwindling social battery and all these tricky encounters.

So, you’re part of a whole other family, now?

That. Is. Frightening.

.

.

.

[end of chapter 3]

a/n. ah!! hope you enjoyed this ihm chapter :’’) sorry if it seemed like a bunch of random scenes lolol i swear it’s all set up for stuff that will happen down the lineee. i just be yappin so the word count ends up kinda high. hope to see you in the next one!! <3 love u all. also it’s my frank ocean anons bday today so i dedicate this chapter to themm 🫶🏼💕 manifesting dilf gojo for u bb for anyone curious about why reader is a bit paranoid w potentially being busted for her fake marriage, i had another reader that was curious about this too so i answered them here if you'd like to check it out :)

➸ take me to chapter four!

note: please do not ask me for updates or when i will next update (read rules)

taglist:

@tremendousbouquetflower @semra4 @noctuaism @gojonegs @reinam00n

@bloopsstuff @bbyxxm @yungbloode @elloredef @spriteshawtyy

@joemama-2 @luniunia @4y3sh4 @ironhottubstranger @lushafterglow

@hermizery @manyno @idiot-juice-enthusiast @fairyflorasworld @teramisuyhin

@mmeerraa @bnha-free-writing @bakuhoethotski @xenop0p @spaghettinewt

@anniegojo @rirk-ke @chiyokoemilia @higurumapet @pickuptruck01

@electrckchild @vi-ola666 @arishaxml @lavender-hvze @starmapz

@sxnkuna @billiondollarworth @fallintothechasm @mavvsmm @alygator77

@ricaliscious @satxoru @oyaoya-bungeegum @hojoslutoru @satowooo

@ifartmangos @andeverden @13-09-01 @lindyloomoo @tvdumarvelhpsimp

note: please let me know in the replies if your taglist preferences change!

taglist is currently closed (consider subscribing to the story on my ao3 for email updates if you’d like! :0)

[harryhoney-bee]

I'm feeling really soft and fuzzy today, So if I can request something I want to do that abeja 🐝💓

#Concept: Nightly routine with y/n and Harry- parents of two little babies.

Tag me if you write this baby ✨✨

Adore you alot 💕

Night Routine

Warning: your ovaries might explode... mine did 🤚🏻 I would give this man 9 children if he asked.

Word count: 1.7k

I have a kofi, so please consider buying me coffee if you can <3

I hope you enjoy it!! Let me know what you think 😚

“But I want to take a beth with him, daddy,” Cecília whined to Harry, while he undressed her, putting her new pajamas and towel on the bathroom counter.

“My little darling, he is still little, he can’t take bath with you,” Harry explained, taking Cecí on his lap and putting her inside the warm tub, handing her some of her favorite toys. “Lorenzo is just 6 months, he’s not as big as you.”

Harry made a bowl with his hands, wetting her curly hair and applying shampoo, a pout still on her face. “Please, daddy?” she said, her chubby hand grabbing his arm. Cecí had already mastered her puppy eyes technique, and she knew how much her dad had a weak spot for her.

“Alright, alright,” He finally gave in, “but he will stay outside of the tub, he doesn’t know how to sit by himself.”

“Thank you, daddy!” The girl splashed water around in excitement, which made Harry smile. That’s how he always wanted to see her: happy and healthy.

Harry went to the door, keeping an eye on the girl in the tub. “Baby? Are you done nursing? Cecí wants to see Lorenzo,” he tried to call his wife as loud as he could while being mindful of Lorenzo, who could be asleep by now. He never wanted to alarm any of him or Cecília with his loud voice.

In a matter of seconds, Y/n appeared in the hallway, a confused expression on her face while Lorenzo was calmly laying down on her arms, his little hands resting on Y/n’s shoulders. “What’s wrong? Why does she want to see him? We just had diner together,” she asked, heading in Harry’s direction.

“I’m not sure, guess she just missed him,” Harry answered, giving his wife a kiss on the forehead and bending down to talk to a very awake Lorenzo. “But who wouldn’t miss you, huh? Such a cutie, right buddy?” he was aware that using a baby voice wasn’t the best, but he couldn’t help, Lorenzo was just extremely adorable.

“Mommy! Enzo!” Cecília called, from the opposite side of the bathroom, “come here mommy, miss you too.”

Y/n sat on the bathroom floor, Lorenzo still with her. “Hey, my heart, having a good bath with daddy?” she asked at the same time Harry sat down by her side and hugged her from the side, laying his chin on her head.

“Yeah! Daddy always let me play,” Cecília took one of the yellow ducks and showed her mom, “This is Mc Duck.”

“Wow, he’s a very beautiful duck isn’t he?” She asked, giving Lorenzo to Harry while kneeling near the bathtub since Cecí still had to wash her hair, Y/n gently took the excess of shampoo from the girl’s hair, while Harry tried to keep Lorenzo entertained by singing him a silly song.

“He is, I love yellow,” the little girl admitted, “I think Lorenzo loves yellows too.”

“And why do you think that, Cecí?” Harry asked amused while pretending to eat the boy’s fingers.

“Because we’re are best friends,” She said as if the answer was obvious, “and friends like the same things.” Y/n and Harry looked at each other and laughed, for a five-year-old girl she knew a lot about relationships.

“Oh, how do you know that?” Y/n asked, finishing washing her hair, letting Cecília enjoy her time in the bath.

“Because you and daddy are best friends, you wear the same clothes sometimes, listen to the same music, and watch the same movies,” with every new topic she would count down on her fingers, it was quite a comical sight.

Harry’s chuckle filled the room, the baby on his lap giggled too. “Well, my little lady, you are right. But friends can also like different things, too,” he told her. “Me and mommy like a lot of similar things, but we also have our preferences.”

“Exactly, daddy loves bananas, but I don’t” y/n complemented, getting Cecília out of the tub, helping her into some warm clothes, “I don’t like to work out, but your dad always wakes up early to go for a run, see? We like different things but we still love each other.”

Harry got up from the floor, rocking Lorenzo softly, his heavy eyes indicating how sleepy the baby was. He took the combing cream in his hand and began combing Cecília’s curls with one hand, while his other arm held Lorenzo. Being a father of two made him very talented at doing two things at the same time. While he did that, Y/n was getting Cecí’s toothpaste ready.

“Daddy, do you love mommy even if she doesn’t go running with you?” Cecí asked, before opening her mouth so Y/n could brush her teeth. Normally they would let Cecília do it by herself, with their supervision, but it was already late and the couple desperately needed to get the children to bed, or else their routine would be messed up. Good thing Lorenzo seemed to be falling asleep already.

“Of course I do! We don’t love people just because they do the same things we do, we love people because they are kind and respectful to us, yeah?” Harry said, looking at Y/n and blowing her a kiss. This is what he loved the most about parenthood: watching the kids growing into their best version.

Parenting was made in many different ways, but the couple especially loved having these kinds of conversations. Even though Cecília was still young, she was already beginning to comprehend what love and friendships were, and Harry and Y/n had the privilege to teach her that.

Harry finished her hair, putting the brush and the products in their place under the sink while Y/n put on some socks on Cecí’s feet, the little girl was yawning, seeming tired. Lorenzo started to fussy on Harry’s arms.

“Guess it’s time to sleep, huh?” Harry said, caressing Cecílias head, “Tired, my baby? Want daddy to read a bedtime story to you? Or do you want mommy?” At the same time he mentioned Y/n, Lorenzo started to soft cry. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Harry asked, looking down at the upset’s baby face.”

Y/n took his from Harry’s arms, cuddling him closer to her chest, “What do you want, Enzo? Mommy just fed you” she looked at her husband, “I’ll nurse him again on the bed, he’s probably just a bit agitated, will you put her to sleep?”

“Yeah, of course.”

The woman kissed Cecília on the forehead, “have a good night, ok, baby? Mommy will take you to the playground tomorrow, alright?”

“Ok mommy, I love you and little bro too,” she said, giving a hug to her mom before she disappeared through the door with the crying baby.

Harry took Cecília by her small hand, leading them to her room, just by the side of the main suite, where the couple slept. He guided the little girl to her bed, giving her all of her favorite stuffed animals, and covered Cecília in her Lilac duvet.

“What story do you want today?

“The pirate one, please,” she asked, laying her head on the pillow as Harry went to her bookshelf, picking the one with the title Pirate’s cove. He sat by the end of the bed and began telling the story.

“I have a story for you, a story of untold riches and a young lad who found them. And who am I, you ask? Well, I am the spirit of the sand-dollar, a pirate and a buccaneer, Captain of the seahorse, the finest ship to ever sail the seven seas…”

Harry would occasionally stop to answer any questions Cecília had, but after 15 minutes he was done with the book and the girl was fast asleep, hugging tight to her little lamb. He made sure she was tucked in and turned off the lights (besides the one on the side of Cecília’s bed, she was scared to sleep in a pitch-black room), he closed the door and headed to his bedroom.

To Harry’s surprise, Lorenzo was sleeping in his bassinet by the side of the mattress. He usually would sleep in his nursery, but today just seemed like an off day to the little boy. Harry got closer to him, stroking the chubby cheeks, “Oh my little bug, did mommy let you sleep here with us? You’re not feeling fine?”

“I think he’s teething,” Y/n said in a raspy voice, taking her head from the pillow, “he’s even a bit warmer than usual, I think his gums are itching.”

“My poor baby,” Harry mumbled, turning his head to Y/n, “I hate seeing him upset, maybe we could make some homemade Popsicle, it helped when Cecília was teething.”

“Yeah, we can try that, we can make them tomorrow.” she patted the mattress, “now please come to bed, he did a number on me, I’m so tired.”

“Alright baby,” Harry took off his shirt, standing only in sweatpants, he went to the bed, laying by Y/n side, one arm hooked on her waist as she cuddled to him, placing her head on his shoulder.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” Y/n said against his neck.

“Oh baby, I am the lu--”

“--I mean, how many husbands would still love their wives even if they wouldn’t go jogging at 6 in the morning?” she said teasingly, her giggles reaching his ear.

He rolled his eyes playfully, “you are making a lot of jokes for someone who is tired,” he kissed her temple. “I’m gonna wake you up at 5 am tomorrow, so we can be fitness together.”

“Don’t you dare! You do that and your plan of being a father to three it’s over.”

“Damn sweetheart, that’s not very nice, huh?”

“You’re the one who started,” she said, before closing her eyes, snuggling to Harry’s body. The man placed a hand on her belly, falling asleep minutes later.

Tag list: @sunandherflores @elenagilbert01 @bellelittleoff, @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson

If you don't want to be in the tag list just let me know, please!! <3

[moxfirefly]

Welcome to October! Today being the first of the month I’ll be starting celebrations by posting the first of hopefully many spooky/kinktober fics for everyone’s enjoyment. We are starting of things in RE8 with Lycan!Heisenberg!

https://open.spotify.com/track/3S2yvrjwH1hruVD4UWDapM?si=ExSIk1ZST9eFs7FJBz9dFw&dl_branch=1

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

TW: Body horror, blood, menstrual cycle, possessive behavior, vouyerism, ns*w themes basically

The crunch of leafs beneath your boots seemed to be the loudest sound out here in the open. The cold autumn weather announcing itself with yet another harsh wind that blew your crimson cloak around you.

It’s in the games we play.

You felt that overwhelming presence that belonged only to him, it radiated off of him much like the cigar smoke you picked up as it faintly travelled across to you.

There was that conceited laugh of his as he approached you from behind.

“You really know how to haul ass when it concerns you, huh?” His breath tickled the back of. Your head and it took so much of your pride to not smile at the sound of his voice. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of turning, to let him see your eyes and the fire the burned in your gaze. “Letting you win isn’t my favorite past time to be frank” That laugh of his vibrated against your skin, so infectious, so very him.

“Oh kitten, I always win” He leaned in, nose to your hair and inhaled softly the scent he had memorized so well.

He could track you through storm and distances.

He would always find you.

And how he loved the chase, this little game you both played.

You felt as much as your heard his growl, the human sound that slowly dropped to a guttural baritone. His eyes, once the stormy hazel they were must be golden now and so very inhuman. As your heart picked up that drumming beat anticipation, you turned slightly to see that handsome smile of his sporting sharp teeth, canines so sharp and perfectly white.

How often you’d seen them sporting red and flesh.

“Come now little one, the games only starting!” He backed up with a bounce to his step, arms wiggling out of that coat he never left home without. You watched him kick off his boots and toss his hat to the quickly growing pile of clothes. There was a cracking sound as he unbuckled his belt, yanking the leather in one fell swoop, all you could do was swallow and bunch up the front of your dress to ready yourself. Heisenberg’s shoulders made a sickening crack, as if the bones had snapped under some unseen force, his finders followed suit and soon human flesh began to give way to something monstrous.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!-“ His voice dropped even lower, the growl nearly demonic in the air of the forest. Something cracked again, the sounds of bones snapping into their rightful position for this. You dug your heels, chest rising as you continued to watch Heisenberg change before your very eyes. “Seven! Six! Five!-“ Those silver locks grew, more patches of hair appearing as he grew in size himself with another crack of his knees, his face contorted, mouth ripping at the corners as a snout began to take form. His clothes tore, pieces of fabric falling or merely hanging by threads on his changing body. It was the half way point, where there was still some human features left but it was more lycan than man regardless.

His tail wiggled off some scraps of clothing, shoulders rolling back to crack them further into their new alignment. That grin, god even in his lycan form it still remained.

The human tone slipped further into just a husky growl as he finished his countdown.

“Four! Three! Two!-“

He howled out that last number, the sound of it drifting into the menacing boom that alerted you that now was the time to start fucking running.

And that you did.

Took off like bullet from a starting pistol, with the echo of your heart being drowned out by the monstrous growl Heisenberg unleashed as he chased after you.

The cold wind assaulted your face as you sprinted as quickly as you could, each step felt like it held the possibility of your doom, with some branches and rocks in place you could easily stumble.

Stumble and lose this little game prematurely.

A sadistic growl rang through the woods as you tried to take a hard left, the sounds of of something sliding and digging into the earth felt too close for comfort. There was a purpose to this game after all, aside from the hunt that Heisenberg derived pleasure from. The goal was to back track to the factory, if you could make it passed the damn bridge, enter his territory then maybe, maybe this time you could be crowned the victor.

But Heisenberg was so quick, even as you ran now with every ounce of adrenaline pumping into you, his presence was close.

Too fucking close.

Distant howling made you falter, feet nearly locking in place and making you trip onto the dirt. Those weren’t supposed to be nearby, the game had its rules after all. It would be rather unfair of him to call upon the rest of those bastards to side track you and truly make you dizzy with whom exactly was closest. Bunching up the front of your dress you were ready to sprint once more as an eerie quiet fell around you. Heisenberg’s heavy steps had seized and so had the howling, something was truly amiss.

The huff of your breath in the cold felt like a signal at this point, a beacon for anybody to find you. The sweat of your brow was chilled against your skin, for as much as your turned to any possible space in the forest it all showed that he could spring out at you any given second, the silence only served for the anxiety to kick in. He had a sadistic streak, naturally he would let the rest of the dogs mess with you if it meant he’d win in the end.

He always won though, why was tonight so different?

Just as you thought, you felt it. It could be mistaken for sweat, could’ve been so easily mistaken for it but you knew your body.

“Oh…fuck” You whispered as you hiked up your dress and saw the blood staining your underwear. The horrible realization that there would be no way to win settled and in what you could only describe as the world coming to a slow stop, you saw him.

Saw how he roused into that frightening height of his, claws caked in dirt and fabric from your dress (shit he had been really close back there), you watched him as he approached you with slow calculated steps. His eyes never stopped being the attention driven spot, they felt like the only source of light in the darkness ironically enough. “I said no dogs, you’ve always known that you cheat” If that mandible could grin it would, the sneer was there but the muscles weren’t quite right given his form. There was a series of sounds that could easily be taken for laughter at your expense.

He hadn’t quite cheated though? The lycans had merely voiced their needs, they knew you were out here but to this point they had not shown up. His arms had extended in that of a motion, a ‘you see?’ To still your accusations of him. You would’ve stomped your foot like a child but that would only give further cause for him to mock you. Your eyes scanned the surrounding spaces but it would be futile.

For each step he took you took one backwards.

His tongue came out to lick his snout, the appendage long and slimy with spit. He was salivating, he had his prey before him with not manner of escape and actively bleeding. Your eyes went wide as you dropped the skirt of your dress and hoped that the only reason he was sniffing the air was because of passing scents. With his head upturned high, sniffing once more he dropped it rapidly to zero in on you and something quite like a demonic laughter left his chest.

“Kitty… bleed” The words were strained, caught between growls and actual sounds normal him would make. Heisenberg was the only lycan capable of speech, to a degree it’s very limited, but he enjoyed using it to torture when the two of you were to play like this. The flight response in your body was pressed and the very second you tried to make a run for it, you felt a large hairy arm wrap around your waist and lift you up. That damned howling laughter rang out as he readjusted you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “You cheat! You knew it would be today! That’s why you insisted so much on playing” You smacked him and yanked at his fur but a large clawed hand falling on your rear reminded you, to the winner goes the spoils.

A hard yank tore your cloak as he casted it towards the ground with every intention of making it into a small nest for you. You were dropped quite unceremoniously onto it, soon enough the dark sky was obscured by him and what a sight this monster of a man could be. You still played up your disappointed frown, even as he won it never truly meant you lost, fun was to be had after all. Those large claws dug into the ground on each side of your head as he hovered above. “Karl don’t salivate on me!” You grabbed his snout, giving it a playful shake much like you would any common dog, it wasn’t long before your were scratching him.

“You still cheated” You announced as you continued to scratch him, he shook himself much to your protesting shrieks. “Asshole-“ You words were cut short when the fabric of your skirt tore as one single claw cut it down the middle, great nothing like walking back home naked in the cold. For good measure you yanked his ear with a grin of your own, Heisenberg growled baring his teeth towards you. His tongue stuck out to lap at the sweat on your stomach, slowly the behemoth of a creature descended lower. Your eyes nearly bugged out and you wanted to yank him back up by the scraggly mop of hair on his head, but naturally he was too quick for you.

Both your wrist were enclosed in one massive clawed hand just as he swiped at the front of your underwear. He shuddered, a pleasant shiver running down his spine when he tasted your essence in every sense of the word. “Absolutely disgusting, you’re the wors-ah!” You shrieked when another simple flick of his claws tore open your underwear. “Silly… brat” Came that guttural tone accompanied by a swipe of his tongue over your folds. Your chest heaved, it never stopped feeling so odd, from the feel of it to how wide and long his tongue was, but it never proved to be unwelcome.

Your widened eyes watch the mass below you greedily lap up, even as he let go of your wrist and picked up your legs to properly spread them for his feast.

Those usually perfectly white teeth were now stained with blood. When he looked up at you.

“Disgusting dog” Was all you could retort with a smile, his tail wagged.

“Smells… good” He spoke at the inside of your thigh, the scrape of his teeth making the limb shake. One incorrect movement and there could be crimson lines adorning it. That animal instinct of his could override common sense and while there were perks for it, the negatives could be fatal. His nostrils flared for a second, the hard gust of air moving your hair. Heisenberg directed his gaze behind himself, several noises and howls leaving him. Curiosity had gotten the better of you, as you sat up to look behind him.

The lycans had gathered, a large number were cautiously approaching. Your hand dug into the fur his body in fear. “Karl?!” You questioned in a hushed whisper, they were communicating from the looks of it and at some point he had made it abundantly clear that would the closest they could get. He turned on his knees to fix you with a gaze that could only be described as pure mischief.

Son of a bitch had really planned this to a tee.

“You bastard, really?! You want them to watch?!” You yanked at his fur once again, his response was to bump his snout against your cheek and chin. It was his physical way of telling you to ‘relax’ and to seal it, he licked your mouth with as much tenderness as he could muster in this form. “You owe me for this, owe me big time” You scratched his head and gave his cheek a kiss before settling back on the ground. There was an excitement palpable in his body, from the way he gripped your hips and lifted your lower half so he could get one more taste from you. The long languid stripe he licked made you bite your lip, your eyes fell on the lycans watching with their steely gazes. You locked your ankles behind Heisenberg’s head to keep him there a little longer

There was something akin to jealousy in their gazes.

Your skin flushed, the furnace like heat Heisenberg exuded naturally making your skin balmy. His hands slid up your thighs, swiftly unhooking your ankles, you braced yourself as best as you could when he manhandled you onto your stomach…

And in perfect view of the rest of the lycans. You blew a strand of hair from your face, frowning as the howling of multiple dogs rang out. They all itched to be where Heisenberg was but only he could, and if any of them dared to disobey, oh it would get far more messier quickly. His snout bumped against your ear, a quick sharp inhale making the skin of your neck breakout in goosebumps. “Mine mine mine” He pushed out through a hiss. Your eyes flutter closed as he bit down gently onto your shoulder, he never closed down fully, but the threat of it being a possibility was enough to remind you. Heisenberg was hot and hard at your backside, the length of him making you bite the inside of your cheek.

Your gaze fell on one particular lycan, his eyes had glued themselves onto your face, the need behind his stare made you grin. A twist of your hair alerted you that Heisenberg knew and when he roared at the other, he in turn simply recoiled at his superiors rage. For your indiscretion he dug his hands into the meat of your rear, the sharpness of the claws reminding you.

Only his, no one else’s.

When he pushed in, the sharp intake of breath you took made you arch back and dig your hands into the soil. You could feel the drip of his saliva onto your lower back, each inch inside making him growl. You felt him maneuver you onto all fours, hands gripping your waist, dwarfing you seamlessly. You trembled as he sheathed more of his cock inside of you until you reached back to tap him on the hand that you had your limit of him. That first thrust always left you speechless, lacking oxygen and even a little dizzy. He was so large, so thick and lost in the sensation of owning you.

Owning you right in front of these mutts.

Those large hands found your arms and pulled back, if it weren’t for his strength you could’ve easily fallen face first but he held onto you and started to move. Eyes shutting tight, you felt your thighs began to shake at his strong movements. He was strong in his human form, but like this? It never stopped surprising you, never stopped exciting you that his strength was unmatched to the crowd of lycans before you. Not one single one of them made any moves to find for dominance and it was no secret that had Heisenberg deeply excited and filled to the brim with pride. There was a roar that startled you from your pleasure, he yanked you back towards him to further possessively hold you again himself.

He wanted you to watch.

Look at those envious dogs, his movements spoke. His snout came to rest on your shoulder, each huff of air from his nostrils felt cold on your heated skin. He thrusted faster, a need to claim urging him to smack his hips against you. His tongue snuck out and licked at your neck just as his movements were bordering on painful. This never stopped being messy, it never stopped being hot either. There was good reason to do this outside, although Heisenberg had others naturally. “So… good…. Mine” A large hand twisted both your breast into a painful grip, mindful of the sharpness his hold had but too far gone to not show his desires. That pulsing need could be felt in his movements, the insistent growling as his release approached.

It was in the way he held you against him.

Where his fur stuck against your sweaty skin and that insistent line of spit kept falling on your shoulder. Trapped in his embrace you could do little to show your lust but it surely was evident in the sounds you hadn’t stopped making since he had slid into you. The lycan’s stamina was nowhere near that of a human’s, and while Heisenberg knew your limitations he very well knew he could pump a few loads into your body regardless of you being a babbling mess beneath him. You felt your entire body seize up, the only thing holding you up being Heisenberg as he continued to thrust into you, with a scream of pleasure you alerted him that your end had approached and with that he pushed you down onto the fabric of your cloak to fuck the first of many loads into you. He roared, hand on the middle of your back trying to not dig those claws in. He filled you almost unbearably so, it leaked out so easily and made a mess down the inside of your thighs. You trembled with each spurt that shot into you, oversensitive thanks to your sudden predicament this evening. This only seemed to further drive him, it wasn’t the usual possessive need, if anything it felt cranked up to eleven.

When his hips had settled into a gentle sway, huffing breaths hitting your back, you knew it was his way of letting you settle. A slow drag of a claw down your back made you shiver, the rest of the lycans had begun to howl and become rowdy but another roar from Heisenberg put a stop to it.

You smiled tiredly, a soft chuckle mixing into your heavy breathing.

Heisenberg moved his hips once more, picked up the speed one thrust at a time. With a smirk you placed your hands behind your back, his almost delighted growl could be taken for laughter.

He gladly accepted your wrist, the show of submission for the rest of the dogs to see.

That you only belonged to him.

[officialscaramouche]

Three is company— a gift for @ambers-glider ‘s fic here! I told y’all I’d get to writing today!!!!

EDIT: Tomo is the friend (Tomo is short for tomodachi which is friend in japanese)

pairing: Kazuha x Gorou x reader

tw: a couple curse words

wc: 2,178

You squatted around the fire with your colleagues, eating your food straight from the can. “[Y/N]!” You hear your squad leader call out from his tent. You turn to look at what he wanted and note him standing with a messenger from the base of operations you just left. He waved what looked like a white flag. It piqued your interest, you had to admit, stretching out your legs with your can in hand.

“Yes, sir!” You salute, slapping your ankles together in form.

Your squad leader extended his hand, exchanging an open letter with you. “A letter. From the resistance,” he says simply. “From the second in command himself.”

It didn’t take the second sentence for you to know who it was. Of course, Kokomi was the leader of your resistance— all of you worked for her. But her second in command was none other than the tricky Gorou, known for his sly and mischievous ploys. “Thank you, sir,” you salute once more before dipping to tear into the letter.

It sucked that none of your mail could go through unopened, but it made sense considering that any one of you could be shogunate spies. It was a small price to pay for your cause, even if the letter was a bit personal.

[Y/N], it read. I hope this letter finds you well. After yours and Kazuha’s leave, I dove into my work to try and distract myself from the aching in my heart. Seeing many of my comrades fall in the recent ambush made me long for you more. I cannot ignore it much longer, so I have written to both you and dearest Kazuha in hopes that we may once again be reunited. We should all be returning to base in two weeks for the monthly review. Please find me there. I look forward to seeing you. Gorou.

“Oh?” A voice came behind you. “Everyone wondered what was going on between you and the shiba boy. I guess this proves true?”

You pulled the letter to your chest, scowling at the man who sat beside you. “Do you need something, sir? Why is my business important to you?”

He smiled, throwing an arm around you. “Damn, I was just curious!” You shook his arm off of you and turned your back to him. “I’m sorry that we have to go through your letters. But I’m sure you understand.”

You frowned as your eyes scanned the letter again. “I do,” you sigh. Bringing the letter to your nose and breathing in the scent. It smelled like otogi wood. It smelled like him. “But it does suck that everyone in command knows about my affairs.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind my asking.”

You peer over your shoulder and glare. “I do mind you asking.” You hissed.

The two weeks went by painfully slow. Your team was sent to do reconnaissance once more after the ambush that Gorou mentioned in his letter. While it wasn’t your team that was tasked with scouting that area prior to his arrival, it was your command team that got in trouble for it. Everyone was expected to do seamless work and the weight was on your team’s shoulders.

You double checked your field of observation; replacing your traps, checking the knots, and notating all of your activities. Signing off and turning in your report, you packed all of your equipment and belongings and darted out of the camp.

It was good to finally be back on base. All you wanted to do was get into your room and hop into the shower. You weren’t about to meet your exes sweaty and covered in dirt. You step inside and stop at the front desk. “Welcome back [Y/N],” the receptionist greets. “What number did you reserve?”

“Twenty three,” you slide over the key, lugging your duffel bag onto the table. You unzip the bag and fish for your personal belongings as the receptionist grabs your locker key. “I’m returning the reconnaissance pack and some gear.”

The receptionist scratches out your name on the clipboard and pulls the bag across the desk. “I heard you’re meeting with Master Gorou and Lord Kazuha.”

You slap your forehead with a groan. “Ugh, does everyone know?”

“Not everyone. I heard from Master Gorou himself. He told me to tell you he’d be in his office.”

“He’s here already?”

“Since seven this morning. He seemed rather eager to meet you.” The receptionist hands you the forms you signed to borrow the equipment. “Sign and date, please.”

You take the pen off the desk and begin to scribble on the document when the door slides open with a ding. “Oh, [Y/N],” a calm and melodious voice says. “What great timing!”

You shudder at the voice, turning slowly to confirm your suspicions. “O-Oh, hi Lord Kazuha…I just got back.”

The samurai walks up and places a hand on the small of your back. “Is Gorou here yet?”

“Yes,” the receptionist answers, taking the clipboard back from you. “He should be waiting in his office.”

“Great,” Kazuha smiles, grabbing your belongings off the desk and ushering you away with him. “Let’s go, shall we?”

You twiddle your fingers nervously as you walk. “I haven’t showered yet, my lord.”

“Oh that’s alright. I haven’t either.”

That wasn’t the point, you thought, reaching the elevator. “Well, I was hoping I could stop at my room and shower.”

Kazuha pushed one of the buttons on the elevator panel. “We’re already here, though.” You scratch your head and frown. “It’s okay,” he continues. “Master Gorou won’t mind.”

“Why do you smell like incontinence?”

You bury your face in your palms as you listen to Gorou and Kazuha speak. “Because I’ve been hiding in the trenches,” Kazuha laughs, opening his arms for a hug.

“You know I have a strong sense of smell,” Gorou whined as he embraced the samurai. “And [Y/N],” you look from between your fingers and notice the warm smile and faint blush on Gorou’s face. “It’s so good to see you too.”

The shiba boy walks up to you and pulls you into a tight embrace, his face nuzzled into your neck. “You’re stinky too.”

“Hey!” You shout, your hands reaching to wrap around him. “Kazuha didn’t want to stop at my room.”

Gorou pulls back and gazes into your eyes, his hand coming to cup your cheek. “That’s okay. I’ve been waiting around anxiously for both of you. Come,” he gestured, extending his arm out. “Please sit with me. I’ve got cookies and tea.”

Kazuha tucked his hands into his sleeves and grinned. He knelt down on the tatami pillow, sitting down on his knees and reaching for a cookie. You followed suit next to him, sitting back on your heels and taking the teacup from Gorou after he poured some tea. It was nice and light until Kazuha took a sip from his cup. “Why did you ask us to come here?” He said with a smile.

You stiffened at the question, your hair standing on end at the suddenly uncomfortable mood. You thought it was obvious why he arranged this meeting, but you guess that Kazuha wanted to hear it from his own mouth.

Gorou rubbed the back of his neck. “I mostly wanted to apologize,” he explained. “Whether or not you accept my apology is not my concern. But I do hope that we can agree to reconcile.”

“It’s very uncomfortable walking around after my superiors have gone through my mail,” Kazuha continued, closing his eyes as he sipped on his tea. “You could’ve at least been a bit more subtle with the delivery.”

“That was part of the problem, though.” The two of you watched and listened closely as Gorou spoke. When the three of you parted ways, it wasn’t on the best of terms. Being in each other’s presence was awkward enough as a result, but hearing him explain his side wasn't something that either you or Kazuha cared to understand. “Keeping both you and [Y/N] a secret was a problem to me. I understood that it would become a hindrance if people knew, but I couldn’t even hold your hand in public.”

Kazuha was silent as he spoke. Gorou and Kazuha had been a thing before you were introduced. But from the beginning you felt that things were tense between them. Being an outsider, the problem was more obvious than it was to them but it was something you felt they needed to work out. That’s why you left.

“And while it was okay for a bit,” Gorou continued, looking away as his words began to choke in his throat. “It was painful to love someone who didn’t even want to be called my ‘boyfriend.’ I don’t think you realize how embarrassing it is to say ‘oh, Kazuha’s my not-boyfriend because he doesn’t want to be tied down by titles.’ I understand that you don’t want a serious relationship but it felt like you didn’t care.”

“I was grieving,” Kazuha kind of snapped, his fingers curled into a fist. “Do you not understand that? My real boyfriend killed himself!”

“Am I not real to you?! Am I just your rebound to fuck and forget?! We are all grieving, Kazuha! We all loved Tomo! What about [Y/N], huh?! Is [Y/N] not real to you either?!”

Kazuha slammed his fist on the table. “Neither of you give a shit! Neither of you care about how I feel!”

Gorou stood on his feet, looking down at the man across from him. “Who was the person that begged you to stay, huh?! Throwing yourself into battle at every chance you got and then turning your back on me!! How dare you say I don’t give a shit!”

The three of you sat in uncomfortable silence after both men refused to say anything else. All you did was sit there and listen, not really feeling as if your opinion mattered. You weren’t in the relationship for very long anyway, why would you have anything to say?

Kazuha looked away from the both of you, while Gorou’s eyes focused on him. You sat with your hands in your lap, waiting for someone to say something. “What do you think, [Y/N]?” Kazuha said finally, not looking at you.

“Me?” You pointed to yourself. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” Gorou said, sitting back down and reaching for your hands. “You were a part of the relationship too.”

“I’m not sure though…it didn’t feel like I was.” Kazuha looked over his shoulder, his cheeks wet from tears he had been hiding. “I wasn’t even a part of the conversation. You left—” you said, pointing to Kazuha. “—and you ignored me.” Then pointing to Gorou.

You crossed your arms with a huff. “Kazuha didn’t even try to talk it out, and Gorou wasn’t patient enough. Neither of you had any care about how I felt. I don’t even think you guys care now! All you want is for me to agree with you and argue with the other! But you’re both wrong! We all loved Tomo, Kazuha. It’s not fair that you shut all of us out. And it’s also not fair to Kazuha to try and force him to get over it so quickly! Everyone grieves at different paces. Just because you’re more used to your friends dying doesn’t mean he has to!”

They were both silent again as your words soaked in. You were right, of course. Gorou thought about the things he said and how he could’ve done it differently. How he had pushed Kazuha away instead of helping. And Kazuha thought about how selfish he was being. He wasn’t Tomo’s only friend and he wasn’t the only one who cared about him.

Then the silence was broken. “I’m sorry.”

Both of the men turned to look at you with confused expressions. “Why are you sorry?” Kazuha asked, grabbing your hands and pulling you close to him. “It’s not your fault.”

Gorou came around and joined in the hug, wrapping his arms around both of you. “Yeah, [Y/N] it’s not your fault. We’re the ones who fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Kazuha pulled back, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I’m the one who should apologize.”

“No,” Gorou shook his finger. “I said I was going to apologize first.”

“Well too bad!” Kazuha shoved a finger into Gorou’s chest. “I said it first!”

Gorou laughed, pinching Kazuha’s cheek. “No, [Y/N] said it first!”

You pushed them away from you and chuckled. “Now that you’re both feeling better, I was going to say ‘I’m sorry is what you should say to each other.’”

Kazuha tucked your hair behind your ear with a soft expression, before Gorou swooped in and peppered your cheeks with kisses. “Promise you’ll work on it?” You asked.

Gorou and Kazuha looked at each other lovingly, leaning in to kiss for the first time in a long time. “We promise.” They said at the same time.

[keisins]

—✥ SEVEN HEADED SNAKE, WHAT YOU CALL THAT? BLEEDING LIKE AN OPEN SCAR.

pairing. assassin!nanami kento x assassin!f!reader warnings. smut(18+), slight angst overview. *this plot was actually inspired from the amazing @sukirichi , ty for letting me use the idea from your drabble!* your divorce with nanami gets finalized, but why does it feel like your relationship is just beginning?

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ]

It’s an end.

“Alright, all done. You’re free to go. Thank you.”

You try not to look at the man that’s sitting across from you in this sweltering, closed up space of an attorney office. The papers you both inked your signatures on are slid into a safe kept portfolio that you will get a copy of soon enough, for confirmation.

Confirmation of a love that never really existed in the first place.

The white haired lawyer of your now ex-husband huffs a grin as he extends a hand to you. “I think a congratulations is in order.”

His wolf-like smile is a harsh reminder of how this was all your idea. A humiliating blush threatens to creep up your face before Nanami makes his first comment in the past five loudly silent minutes.

“You’re so unnecessary.” He murmurs as Gojou Satoru shakes your hand enthusiastically. It seems that a lot of things amuse the man. Especially, the person next to you.

Getou stares at the hand placed in front him and the same obnoxious grin you had just endured.

“Till next time, Suguru?”

The informality catches you a little off guard, but your “attorney” only gives a serene smile back and takes the hand. “Yes. See you, Satoru.”

Nanami gives you one last look and you a thin smile before nodding and making his way out. Gojou follows suit.

Getou sighs and drops the portfolio onto the hardwood table. “Well, now that’s done. We can finally start our mission, huh?”

You hum, slumping back into the wooden chair.

It’s a beginning.

“Got eyes on the target yet?”

Ah, those words never get old, do they? Nanami stares into the optic as he shifts his hold on the air soft rifle to search. He wants to get this over with— it’s been a long fucking week— and it never helps to have Gojo in his ear every minute gone by. Before Gojo can speak again, Nanami finally settles in a perfect spot.

The man fits every detail description. But, like clockwork, he needs to verify. “Seated at the bar, right?”

He hears the confirmation and his finger goes to the trigger until a figure comes up. It blocks the shot, but it’s quite the view anyway. It’s you. Wait— why were you here? His ex-wife; an acquaintance that agreed to marry him to both of your guy’s parents off your back, the one who always waited for him coming home from work (which ever one that may be; the office job or a sniper) and never complained until, well, this week.

He couldn’t deny you the request. He kind of owed it to you, to be honest. You were a kind woman with a job in retail, right? You were a good wife— loyal and patient, right? You were perfect on paper. Almost too perfect.

“Woah,” he hears Gojo chuckle in amusement and astonishment. “What is your ex-wife doing here, Nanami!”

“I-“ Nanami continues to observe the situation unfolding. You look good. Beautiful. Stunning. Like you belong in the elite society. He hasn’t seen you like this ever. Even when you two got married in that dull city courthouse. He clears his throat. “I don’t know.”

Then, he sees you turn, and you look straight at him through the glass circle. The corners of your lips turn up into the tiniest, sly smile before the back of your head is seen again.

What the fuck just happened? What is going on? It’s all that can go through Nanami’s head at the moment.

This kind of sucks, is all you’re thinking as the target of yours blabbers on about whatever. You could have seen yourself falling in love with Nanami Kento. If only he hadn’t been so stubborn about going to work and saying how dangerous it is there. What was so dangerous about transferring numbers in for some company, you used to think. But, now that he’s after your same target, you understood.

“Gotta give it to you, he’s even scarier now that I know he’s a sniper.” Mahito chuckles through your ear piece. “You know we have to kill him now right?”

You surprise yourself when you shudder at the thought. You hear Geto chastise him in response for you. “She’s kind of busy to be worrying about that right now.” Geto reminds you for what seems like the millionth time that night. “Focus on the target,” he tells you.

Right. Lure him in. Get the portfolio. Kill him. It’s been done before. An easy procedure. If only your ex-husband wasn’t a building away with a sniper in hand. You’re about to secure part of the mission— seduce the man back to his hotel room where the portfolio lies in a safe—when your phone rings.

You don’t know why you agree, but you end up in a luxurious hotel room drinking red wine with your ex-husband as you tell him the whole truth. And he tells you his. It’s too much to take in. It feels unreal.

“So, what now?”

He shrugs and takes another sip of his drink. And he looks so hot, with his chiseled jawline and high cheekbones. And those hands—

Without any thought, you pull on his tie and your lips land on his. Nanami realized he hasn’t touched you intimately in almost a year. He forgot how good it felt. Right now, you taste like wine. He gets a drip of it off your tongue when it brushes against his. And he decides he’ll let you do whatever you want to him. He’s tired. Tired of having to chase you when you were already his all this time.

He doesn’t know you feel the same way. That you’d kill yourself before killing him. So, you counter your rough kisses with your gentle touches along his rugged arms. You make your way to his buttons. You manage to pop two undone when you pull apart from him. Both your lips wet and swollen.

“You aren’t stopping me?”

With the way you’re looking at him and the way he’s looking at you, there’s no way either of you could really pull out of the lustful ambience. And Nanami’s thinking to himself— this was your wife and you haven’t thought of fucking her until now? Where the hell was your head this past year? Why hadn’t you ever come home on time?

The answer all laid upon this stupid job, but this stupid job got him in the position he was in now. And he’s always been logical— backing out on missions that involved higher tiered competition, making sure a bullet would bounce off a target a certain way to trick investigators— but if he needs to let loose and give up all inhibitions to spend this whole night with you, he will.

Who cares if your teams were probably biting each other’s head off at the moment?

You’re searching for an answer in his natural stony gaze before he abruptly moves to stand, causing you to fall backwards towards the hotel bed with an oomf. He’s towering over you with the slightest smug smile when he sees your flustered appearance taking in the muscular body that unfolds as he unbuttons the shirt.

“No. Should I?”

You shake your head no, enveloping your arms around his now bare neck. Please don’t ever, you want to say. Your lips crash again and there’s more of a soft passion to these kisses. He tries not to awe at the falling thin straps on your shoulders giving up so much skin, a lot more skin than he has ever got to see. And he merely thanks God that you’ve begun to unbuckle his pants because he could probably spend a little bit too long admiring your body.

You use this as a chance to turn him over so that you’re on top. Your lips meet his again as you grab his unsurprising large length and rush to put it inside you. You whine at the stretch and Nanami can’t help but feel a little bit pleased at the fact that you, whom is usually so calm and cold, unraveling before him.

“Kento.” You unintentionally whimper. You’re too occupied to be embarrassed as you grind and ride him. He’s taken aback by how hot and silky and wet you are. All for him?

“Fuck.” He’s not exactly holding back either. He’s groaning and grunting against the skin of your neck. Feeling you convulsing around him, he takes back his control as he fucks you through your first high that night.

You wake up to overlapping, obnoxious ringing sounds. You don’t have to look to know who’s calling you at this hour. It’s not like you want to answer anyway. There’s a ridiculously hot man in bed naked next to you.

“Are you going to answer?” His voice is gruff, raspy and you think you want to wake up to it every single fucking day. You throw your phone carelessly to the other end of the room, ignoring the sound it makes when it cracks and you lean over on top of him. The sunlight that’s breaking through the window hits your face so delicately, so gently. You’re beautiful, he wants to say. But he doesn’t, so you settle with the small smirk he has on.

“No. It’s nothing important,” you tell him before you indulge in more and more of whatever he can give you. And if that ends, you don’t really care— at least it started with Nanami Kento.

[smol-and-grumpy]

Legally Yours - Ch. 01 (Prologue)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester tops the list of hottest entrepreneurs 2020 and yet, there’s still something he wants but can’t have because, in order to get that, he would have to settle down and get married. She agrees too quickly because she wants to secure a more comfortable life for her and her daughter. Will she be able to help Dean get what he wants without losing herself in the fake story they spin up to deceive his father and the world?

Chapter Warnings: None. Maybe the end will get your heart racing.

WC: 1796

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons​ <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Buy me a coffee

Y/N’s sitting at her desk as she types an answer to the inquiry from a customer, when her friend Donna practically slams a glamour magazine over her keyboard. 

“Have you seen this?” The blond woman asks. 

“Jesus, Donna! I haven’t saved that document yet! God!” She picks the magazine up and tosses it to the side as she continues to finish the document on her screen. 

Donna’s still waiting, staring at her and she wonders if that woman has nothing else to do. Y/N’s sure Donna has plenty to do, they always have a lot of work and that’s why she gets home so late and sometimes, Liv would already be asleep. Sometimes, when she’s lucky, Liv was awake and she’d read her a bedtime story of princesses who are rescued by a heroic prince.

As soon as Y/N is finished, she turns around in her chair, to see her friend still staring at her instead of doing her own work. 

“What is it?” She asked with that added annoyed nuance to her tone of voice.

“Look!” Donna lifts her chin to point towards the magazine she slammed in front of Y/N just a moment before, “Have you seen it?”

Turning back around to her desk, she picks it up, “Donna, I’m not reading those mags, so no, I haven’t seen it. Why?”

Instead of answering her, Donna only grins. The grin that shows her dimples. The wicked one, “Page twenty-six,” 

With raised eyebrows and that little spark of curiosity which Donna had added to her interest, Y/N rifles through the pages until she reaches page twenty-six. 

There’s a picture of a man who stares right at her. He’s wearing a perfect suit. His one hand fakes the adjusting of his cufflink on his wrist. It’s a total male model pose. Well, he looks like one, so she can’t really say that anything’s out of the ordinary. 

At a second glance, though, she realizes that he looks familiar. His face is a little scruffy, but that makes him look edgier, makes him look more handsome. He’s smiling bright, showing his perfect white teeth. There are crinkles around his emerald eyes, seven on his right side, and she knows she shouldn’t even be counting them, so she ignores his left side. And she definitely can’t help but notice the freckles across his face. 

Oh, she thinks.

Oooohhhh.

“Is that..?” She asks with a frown that gets deeper between her eyebrows because she’s just not sure? She hasn’t seen the man that many times in real life. 

“Ya! Our fucking boss! The icy King!” Donna shouts, “Isn’t he dreamy? My god, I wanna eat him up! And he doesn’t look as icy and distant like he always does,”

“Donna!”

“What? Only telling the truth here! Read what the headline says!”

Her friend is right, though, Mr. Winchester’s normal aloof and cold persona isn’t captured in the picture. He’s known to be the icy King in the company. Instead, he looks kind of welcoming and warm. Y/N eyes go to the top of the page, and she can’t lie, it’s hard to concentrate on the writing when there’s a good looking man staring her down.

The headline is in all caps.

 DEAN WINCHESTER, HOTTEST ENTREPRENEUR 2020

 She frowns, as her eyes leave the magazine to look back at her friend, “That’s what you wanted to show me?” 

“Duh! There’s also a whole article about him being the center of attention everywhere he goes,”

“Well, that’s not really surprising, is it? Looking like that?”

“It also says that he has a fiancée.”

“That’s also not surprising,” Y/N shrugs, “I mean, seriously, look at him. Who wouldn’t want to marry that?” She didn't. At least not when they say that he’s cold-hearted. But again, she’s not the norm here because every female is gushing about him. 

She closes the magazine loudly, deciding that she shouldn’t waste more time. She wants to get home on time today. Liv went on a field trip with her school and she wants to hear her little girl telling her about how exciting it was. Y/N still has a lot of work to do and also a meeting with her supervisor later. The sleazebag.

“So, can I go back to work?” She turns to Donna, “I have a meeting with Raphael in about twenty minutes.”

“Ew,” Donna cringes her nose.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Exactly,”

“Will you tell him off?”

“I already did,” She sighs, “Multiple times,”

“Why don’t you just go to HR?”

Donna knows what happens. What always happens when she has a meeting with Raphael. He’s always trying things with her. Accidentally brushes his hand against her breast or her ass. He once told her to sit in his lap as he was showing her the numbers of her performance. It wasn’t the first time he suggested it, and she doubts that it will be the last time either. He tried to kiss her more than once, but knowing that they are in an office environment, he didn’t dare to force her too much. He also offers to drive her home almost every week, and she’s slowly getting tired of it, not to mention creeped out.

At their last meeting, he made her hang up a picture frame in his office. His hand rested on her hips to supposedly support her, but they traveled further down until he kneaded her ass in his palms. She immediately got down from there, and left the room wordlessly. 

She knows another secret about Raphael, though. One she could use against him, but she just doesn’t know how just yet. Y/N knows and has got proof that he’s been skimming money. He takes it out of the customer’s account. Not a lot, a small sum that customers wouldn’t notice is missing, but in the end, it’s probably a whole lot when he does it to all the customers he’s supposed to look after. 

Again, she can’t really bring that up because she’s sure that he’ll spin it around and Raphael is good at that. With a push on the button of his keyboard, he could reverse everything and she knows that. 

“I can’t go to HR,” Y/N lowers her head and mumbles to her friend, “Because they won’t believe me,”

And that’s the truth too. The Head of HR is Duma, a woman who occasionally fucks Raphael. They have a friend with benefits thing going on, even if she’s married with children. Duma will never believe her because Y/N’s sure that Raphael can spin this perfectly to fit his narrative. 

Besides, what can she possibly tell? It’s her against him. It’s like a mouse against an elephant. She’s only an accountant and is replaceable, whereas Raphael is a member of the leadership team. And who will be let go? She doesn’t think it’s going to be him and she needs the job to survive. 

Y/N watches as Donna’s lips start to curl up, the white teeth of the woman are visible, as she drums her fingers annoyingly on her own desk.

With a frown, she asks her friend, “What?”

“I have an idea,” Donna says and pulls up her outlook calendar. 

She types in something, and then a calendar appears with a lot of colorful blocks. 

Oh no. She has quite the idea of who’s calendar it is even if she can’t read the name from where she’s sitting, which is too far away because she doesn’t want to give the impression that she’s not working. And it’s stupid that they can do that. They have quite an open calendar policy at the office. Everyone can send and block meetings for everyone, even for the icy King. 

“Donna, no!”

“Why, Donna, yes!” Her friend grins, “He has an open window right now. The meeting in the boardroom is in ten minutes. You should go tell him what you know. If someone can change anything, it’s him, right?”

Donna’s not wrong, she isn’t. But Mr. Winchester is what? At least four tiers above her if not five. Why should he care what a simple worker in his company is thinking? Why should he care what the hell she goes through every day while he earns enough profit to fuel his expensive and glamorous lifestyle?

“He wouldn’t believe me,” She shakes her head.

“You can tell him about the money skimming, I bet he won’t be happy to hear that.”

“Ugh,”

Donna stands up and walks over to her, braces her hands on the chair Y/N’s sitting on, “What’s the worst that could happen, huh?”

“That I get fired?”

“Meh,” Donna squeaked, “I doubt that. You’re doing a great job. Your records are great. And besides, if they do that, you can go and file a lawsuit against them. Besides, who knows, if you go to HR, Raphael will fire you before the icy King does.”

True, but still. 

“Now go get your ass up to the executive floor. Maybe take him a coffee, I heard he likes it black,”

“Oh, just like his heart?”

“Ya, maybe I wouldn’t tell him that?” Donna chuckles.

 *

 Y/N’s on her way to the elevators. She can’t believe that she’s really doing it. But Donna’s right. She can’t go on and live like that. It’s already hard to part from her child every morning and to get bullied at her job and being sexually harassed should not be the norm. She just fucking wants to earn enough money to keep her kid and herself above water.

God, she’s really doing it! 

Fuck.

There are six elevators lined up in the foyer. Three on each side. Only one goes up to the executive floor and also one is reserved for Mr. Winchester’s penthouse on the top floor. Everybody knows that. 

To get the elevator to run up to the executive floor, Y/N would need to have a card with a chip, which she doesn’t, and she feels stupid to have just realized it. And now she’s standing here, lost, with a hot black coffee in a lidless plastic cup that almost burns her fingers off.

Ugh. 

She’s so fucking stupid.

Well, she could still try, couldn’t she? She jumped over her own fear and has come this far. She definitely shouldn’t give up now. 

Her finger hovers over the buttons. Closing her eyes and exhaling loudly, she gives the button a push. Standing back, she waits, her heart is drumming loudly against her ribcage.

And she doesn’t even have to wait long because not even thirty seconds later, the elevator dings and opens up to reveal a man in a nice suit staring back at her.

It’s him.

Ch. 02

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

By My Side (Part 1)

Summary: While at home one night, the reader, an actress, is almost kidnapped and at her friend’s suggestion she hires Jensen as her bodyguard. While the pair doesn’t get along, an incident at the reader’s new home leads her and Jensen to taking a drastic measure...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Word Count: 3,900ish

Warnings: language, minor injury, attempted kidnapping, drugging

A/N: There will be no taglist for this series. Please check out the masterlist for posting dates/times. Enjoy!

_________

“Get the fuck off!” you said, kneeing the man that was halfway through dragging you down your stairs. You threw a punch and a kick, swinging more than a few times before the grip on you fell away and you booked it for the front door. You sprinted outside and down the driveway, dashing across the street and banging on your neighbor’s door. 

A light came on and you glanced over your shoulder, spotting the guy dressed in black and wearing a mask jog to the end of your driveway.

“Shit, shit,” you said, a strong arm grabbing you and yanking you inside before you could even turn back around. The door slammed shut after you and you took a deep breath, your neighbor standing there in his boxers, saying something to his wife in the background. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” said Jared. You straightened up and nodded, his eyes going wide. 

“Gen! Tell them she needs an ambulance too,” he said.

“I’m fine,” you said as he walked you to his kitchen and sat you down at the counter. Gen was in there, on the phone with the police it sounded like, as Jared went to a cupboard. He pulled out a red bag and then was walking back over with a wad of bandages, holding it up to your forehead. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” he said. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you said, pressing your hand to your head, seeing the half secured zip tie stuck on your other wrist. There were sirens in the distance and you shut your eyes.

“Hey, no sleeping. You might have a concussion,” he said.

“I’m not sleeping,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut. “Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” he said, the sirens getting louder before there were flashing lights in the window. Gen walked over to the front door, letting the police in. About four officers came inside, one of them immediately coming over to you.

“What’d he look like? How many?” he asked.

“Uh, all in black, with a mask. He was white I think from what I could tell. Maybe six foot, average build, strong. It was just the one as far as I know. Last I saw him he was at the end of the driveway before my neighbor let me in his house,” you said.

“You two, call it in for backup and start looking. Jones, get a full statement from these three. Start with the vic. Medics will want to look at that head,” he said. “Which house is yours?”

“Right across the street. Red front door,” you said. He left and the other cop in there pulled out a plastic bag from his back pocket.

“I need to cut that off for evidence,” he said, glancing at your wrist.

“Should we do anything?” asked Jared as the cop made a cut and bagged the plastic tie.

“I would keep pressure on that wound for the moment,” he said, writing on the bag and taking out a notepad and pen. “Alright. Let’s start from the beginning.”

“I was asleep less than ten minutes ago in my bed and I woke up to someone touching my arm and I found that tie thing on me and the guy tried grabbing my other arm but I rolled away. I got caught up in the covers while I was running away so he caught up to me in the hall outside my bedroom and I just started hitting what I could and then he tried to pull me downstairs and I hit him some more and then he let go and I ran over here.”

“How’d you sustain the head injury?” he asked.

“Well he was hitting me too when I started fighting back,” you said. “I was half-awake.”

“Okay. Sir, I’m going to need to ask you a few questions now.”

Three Hours Later

“Hey,” said Jared, setting a cup of tea down at his breakfast table. He rubbed your back and you sighed. “Rough night huh?”

“At least I don’t have a concussion,” you said, touching your butterfly bandages on your head.

“Police said your alarm wasn’t on.”

“So this is my fault?” you asked.

“No, I didn’t say that. I am saying that you and Gen have a very popular show together and if she didn’t have me around, I’d want her to have a bodyguard, maybe even full time,” he said.

“I have had this conversation with my manager multiple times. I’m not getting a bodyguard. For events and conventions, fine, I’ll have one. At work? In my life? No way,” you said.

“Y/N, you know I used to be in the army. Then I was a cop. Then I was on a SWAT team before I retired to become a stay at home dad,” he said.

“Yes. You’re an adorable scary badass. What’s your point?” you asked.

“When I worked SWAT, I worked a a few kidnapping cases. The honest truth is sometimes we don’t find you until it’s too late or we never do. It’s not like a movie. It’s not like your guys show and someone swoops in. No one shows up out of the blue to save you. You save yourself or you don’t get saved. Rarely do we get you out of that situation.”

“Again, what’s your point?”

“My point is whoever that person was, when they come back because they will come back, Y/N, and when they do, they’re not going to be that sloppy. They may drug you. They may knock you out. They could do a number of things but your chances of getting way again would be extraordinary. I love ya and I’ll always protect you. But next time, I might not be able to stop something bad from happening. You alone over there...I wouldn’t know until it’s too late.”

You were quiet, playing with the tea bag in your drink as he drank from his own mug.

“I don’t want a stranger coming into my home,” you said.

“Y/N, Gen and I want you to stay here for as long as you-”

“I meant a bodyguard, Jare. I don’t want somebody I don’t know to start coming into my life and controlling it.”

“I have a friend from my army days who does that kind of work. He’s between jobs at the moment. I’ll vouch for him,” he said.

“You’re not gonna give me a choice on this, are you,” you said.

“Gen and I are moving. A bigger place,” he said. “We think it’s a good idea if you had a change of scenery too.”

“You think she’s in danger too?”

“We don’t know but she’s five months pregnant. We don’t want to risk anything,” he said. “It’s just a thought.”

“Can...can I stay over here a few days? While I figure out what I want to do?” you asked.

“Yeah, of course, Y/N.”

Two Weeks Later

“I like the new place,” said Jared as he helped you carry in the last box. 

“It’s uh, a bit big,” you said. “But the owner wanted to sell fast and I wanted out of the other one fast so it worked out.”

“Seems like a lot of space for one person,” said the man walking in through the open front door. He was in a pair of dark jeans and a blazer, a tee shirt underneath. You stepped behind Jared but he chuckled. “Really Jare? Didn’t mention I’d be stopping by?”

“Y/N, this is my friend Jensen. I told you about him. You said you were interested in meeting him,” said Jared.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” said Jensen, holding out a hand.

“Y/N please,” you said as you shook it.

“I prefer to keep things professional,” said Jensen. “It’s easier that way. So, this is the new place, hm? Which room will be mine?”

“There’s a guest suite over on the first floor you can use,” you said.

“Where’s the master?”

“Upstairs.”

“Preferably I’d like to be in a room closer to yours,” he said.

“Fine. Take the guest room upstairs,” you said. “This is just a test run remember.”

“My contract says this is a six month test run,” he said as he looked around. “I see you’re still moving in so perhaps we can go over some of our new procedures in the morning.”

“Sure,” you said. 

“I’ll move in my belongings then,” he said. “I don’t have much.”

“Mhm,” you said. He nodded and headed back outside, Jared catching the look you gave him.

“What?” he asked.

“He’s gonna be a joy to live with,” you muttered.

“He’s quiet until you get to know him. I wouldn’t have recommended him if I didn’t trust him. He’s saved my life before. I know he’ll have your back,” said Jared.

“Yeah,” you said, his phone going off. “Jared, go. I know you’re already late for the baby checkup.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I only have boxes left to unpack anyways. Go on. I’ll talk to you guys later,” you said. He gave you a wave on the way out, leaving you to stare at the pile of boxes sitting on your kitchen floor. You cracked your back and started to work, catching Jensen move in a few duffel bags of his own. He left and wandered around outside eventually, allowing you to try and get the essentials all stored away.

By the time it was seven, you were exhausted but your bedroom, bathroom and kitchen were all set up. You plopped down on the couch, closing your eyes. They blinked open when you felt a presence standing over you.

“I’ve done a review of the property. I’d like to have an upgraded security system installed tomorrow,” he said.

“Whatever. Just put it on the card my manager gave you,” you said.

“I’d also like to consider hiring an additional person to monitor the system at some point. They can be remotely based,” he said.

“Like I said, whatever,” you said, closing your eyes again.

“I assume I have access to use the kitchen as I desire,” he said.

“No smoking. No drugs. No random hookups you bring here and as long as you don’t bug me and stay away from my ice cream, we’ll be fine,” you said.

“I can agree to that. As long as you follow my rules, we’ll also be fine,” he said. You laughed and sat up, walking to the kitchen to find your phone. “Do you think that’s funny?”

“I think the fact you think you’re going to be making rules in my home that I paid for is very funny,” you said. You took the phone to check on the pizza and wings you ordered for yourself, Jensen walking over and stopping in front of you. “Can I help you?”

“You are paying me a very large sum of money to keep you safe. If you don’t listen to what I say then I can’t guarantee your safety,” he said.

“Let me get something clear. I’m doing this to appease my friends and manager. Do whatever you want around here but don’t start telling me how to live my life,” you said.

“I took this job as a favor,” he said, snatching your phone out of your hand and tossing it on the countertop behind him. You scowled and he walked forward, forcing you to back up until your back hit a wall.

“Dude, backoff.”

“Pretend I’m that man that tried to take you before. What do you do? Right here and now. What’s your plan?”

“I’m serious,” you said, trying to brush past him and getting a light shove into the wall for it. You glared at him but he held his ground, pushing you again when you moved.

“I’m serious. Tell me what your plan is. Better yet, show me,” he said. 

“I don’t care if you are Jared’s friend. I am this close to punching you. Move now.”

“I said show me.”

You narrowed your eyes and brought up your knee to hit him in the groin. He pushed it away before it connected though and you were off balance, Jensen grabbing you and yanking you away from the wall, putting you in a headlock and tugging your arms behind your back.

“Don’t go for the most obvious move in the world,” he said. “Now that didn’t go how you wanted it to. What’s the plan now?”

“Get off,” you growled, trying to stomp your foot down on his but he moved it back and kicked out your ankle, making you fall back against him. He picked you up and you started moving your legs, Jensen suddenly dropping you down onto the hardwood floor. You hit your knee and winced, a hand suddenly grabbing the back of your shirt. “Alright! I get the fucking point.”

“Do you?” he said, squatting down beside you. You tried pushing his hand away but it tightened and you tried throwing a punch, his grip almost too hard now and his free hand easily blocking the hit. “You have no plan. You’re too small and too weak to overpower someone. You can’t afford to have no plan. The thing is, when it’s real, you’ll be panicking and you’ll have no time at all to think of one.”

“Stop touching me unless you want me to call the cops on you,” you spat out. He moved his hand away and stood, staring back at you.

“You need to do what I tell you if you want to stay safe. I will teach you what to do if you’re in that situation for whatever reason. But the rules keep that situation from happening in the first place. Understand?” he said.

“Understand that you are fired as of now. Pack up your shit and get out of my house,” you said. You got to your feet and he raised an eyebrow. “I’m your boss and I can fire you whenever I want. Get out.”

“How on earth Jared is friends with a someone like you I will never understand,” he said. He headed upstairs and the doorbell rang. You forced a smile for the delivery guy and took your food back to the kitchen, digging in before Jensen was even tossing his first bag down the stairs. You rolled your eyes and were on your third slice by the time he was walking downstairs.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” you said. He shot you a dirty look, his head cocking as he set his bag down. “Oh now what?”

“You look really pale,” he said, walking over to you. “Your pupils are huge.”

“You know what else? You are so not as hot as you think you are,” you said, reaching for another piece of chicken before he smacked your hand. “You are this close to me calling...someone.”

Your head got dizzy for a second, Jensen grabbing your arms and setting you down on the ground.

“I feel funny,” you said, tipping over and resting against him. “Really, really funny.”

“You just got drugged,” he said, using his phone to dial a number. “No more takeout. Got it? Obviously this person knows you moved. I want to put someone at the house full time.”

“I’m gonna fall asleep now,” you said, shutting your eyes.

“No, nope, try to stay awake,” he said. You hummed and he grabbed your face. “Y/N. Try.”

“You’re really pretty for a grumpy grump,” you said.

“I thought I wasn’t hot. Just stay awake for me, Y/N,” he said.

Twenty minutes later you were in the ER with an IV in your arm and feeling a whole lot of crappy. Jensen said something to a doctor before he walked over to the stall you were in and stood by the bed.

“Hey. Police are at your house. Neighbor said they saw a silver pickup parked down the street. Seemed shady. It was gone by the time they got there,” he said.

“Course it was,” you mumbled.

“You more with it again?” he asked.

“Yeah. Feel really tired is all,” you said.

“Well I called your manager. He said he’d be here soon so I’m gonna head out,” he said.

“Huh?” you said, sitting up as he started to leave. “Wait.”

“Last I remember, you fired me. Nothing has changed,” he said. “Goodnight.”

“Wait,” you said, grabbing his wrist, the effort taking more energy than you were anticipating. He didn’t shrug you off, instead gently setting your hand back in your lap and pushing you to lay back down.

“You should rest. There’s a cop outside the room,” he said.

“Stop. Just...sit down,” you said. He sighed but sat on the edge of the bed, raising an eyebrow. “How could somebody already know where I moved? Hardly anyone knows.”

“You rent a moving truck?” he asked.

“Yeah. Movers did the furniture,” you said. He shrugged and you shut your eyes. “The movers?”

“No, probably not them. But that truck probably has GPS for mileage tracking and if this person has your credit card info, they could figure it out,” he said. “The food thing probably happened back at the restaurant you ordered from. Somebody slips in the backdoor, puts some stuff on your food and slips back out.”

“What’s your suggestion?”

“I don’t work for you anymore.”

“Let’s pretend earlier didn’t happen. Please,” you said. “I can’t...I can’t be alone right now and something feels really off about this whole thing.”

“This whole thing has felt off the second Jared told me about it. Tonight just further proved that point,” he said.

“You were in the army longer than he was, right?”

“He decided to retire, go be a cop. I stayed in. Worked on a few more specialized skills a bit longer before I left and got in this line of work,” he said.

“I’m going to assume you know what you’re doing then.”

“Yeah. I know what I’m doing. I can’t guarantee anything but I can give you some pretty damn good odds,” he said. He stared at you for a moment and looked you over. “You’re smarter than the stereotypical actress I pegged you for.”

“It had to have been someone on my team or that’s close to me in order to know that I was moving,” you said. “Or else the person never would have known to look today.”

“Someone that knows your go to takeout place too. You need to be extremely careful about who you trust right now,” he said.

“I trust Jared and Gen,” you said.

“I trust the guy with my life. I’d trust him with yours. Gen is fiesty when you piss her off but you’re her best friend. They didn’t do this.”

“Your expert opinion, what’s my next move?” you asked. He rubbed the back of his neck and made a face. “Jensen.”

“Ideally? You go off grid. I mean off grid, off grid. Middle of nowhere, no one knows where exactly. Cut yourself off and it’d give us more time to figure out who this person is and what exactly it is they want with you. If they’re as close as we think they are, they’ll find a way to sneak in again and next time, it might be my food that’s drugged. It’s a big risk to go back to the house.”

“I can’t go be alone though. What if they did find me somehow?” you asked.

“I said off grid. I didn’t say alone,” he said. “It’s an extreme approach, I’ll give you that. But it gives me more time to work on this and it’ll keep you safe.”

“Why not hire a bunch of guys to stay around me all the time?”

“Because you’re still in danger if you stay in LA and I don’t have the ability to check that many guys out. I got guys I know I can trust but they’re all over the country and the only other one here is Jared and Gen needs him. No offense but she’s got a kid with another on the way. More bodies means more priority,” he said.

“No, no. Please keep them safe too. If it’s a fan of the show, they could be in the same situation,” you said.

“I’m not going to try and tell you what to do because obviously, you weren’t a fan of me doing that before. But if you want to be able to sleep safely at night, we need to go, just you and me. Jared and Gen can know but that’s it and I mean that’s it. I can secure a safe place and everything we’ll need. But it’s going to be a drastic lifestyle change.”

“How drastic?”

“Like no internet and our electricity will run off a generator drastic.”

“If I stay here?”

“I give it a week tops before they try something again,” he said.

“We wrapped two weeks back and since Gen’s pregnant, we aren’t slated to start filming for another seven months. I’ll have to cancel some events but if I was ever going to go off grid, now’s the time to do it.”

“I will get it arranged. Do not speak a word of this to anyone,” he said.

“Jensen,” you said as he stood. “What was that back at the house? You acting all aggressive like that?”

“The last client I had, I was lenient, never taught them anything, let them push me around and dictate how I worked. They got put in a bad situation because of that. If you don’t take this seriously, then what’s the point of me being here.”

“Well wherever we go, I’m gonna need a few things. Women stuff,” you said.

“Make a list and tomorrow, pack a bag,” he said. “I want us on the road tomorrow night. I don’t care what you tell your team about why you’ll be MIA. Just tell them something so we don’t get a missing persons report on you.”

“Alright,” you said, Jensen nodding and starting to leave. “Wait. Where are you going?” 

“I need to start preparing. Like I said, there’s a police officer by the door.”

You stared at him and he took a deep breath.

“How about he stays in the room with you until we’re ready to go home and get what we need, okay?” he said.

“Okay,” you said.

“Hang tight. When you’re up for it, we’ll get out of here.”

_____

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[honey-milk-depresso]

Meanie (Azul Ashengrotto x Reader)

SORRY TWST COMMUNTITY TRYING TO GET AS MANY DRAFT ELIMINATED AS POSSIBLE SORRY FOR BLASTING SHIT IN YOUR FACE BUT LIKE HOPE YOU ENJOY PLEASE DON’T KILL ME-

Based on a manga I think you know when you read it-

I suck I know-

Warning: Slight under aged drinking but it’s purely fluff, nothing serious.

Part 1

part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8 (END)

“Sevens, y/n. What do you want?”

“A hang out! At the VIP room!”

“You know how much that’s going to cost you right? You don’t have much on you.”

“Yeah, yeah I know but, I spend it on my friend!”

“You’re paying me.”

“Exactly!”

Azul sighed in irritation. He can never get enough of you, can he?

“Fine.”

“YES!! I’ll bring some things along!”

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

“You got to be kidding me..”

Lying on the table, there were an assortment of chips, soft drinks, sweet snacks and to top it all off, a bottle of plum wine.

“Y/n, you shouldn’t be drinking. You’re under aged.”

You laughed heartily. “Don’t worry! It’s only once in a while! Besides, I really like plum wine! I’m not drinking it for the sake of looking cool! Ahehehe~!”

He sighed, putting his hat and jacket suit by the table and plopping himself on the couch, leaving him with his white collared shirt with his sleeves rolled up and pants.

He cringed slightly as all the snacks were unhealthy.

“Couldn’t you have bring snacks of healthier options?”

“Azul, you should treat yourself every once in a while. Being healthy is good, but you can eat junk just once! Besides, it’s a happy occasion!”

“You do this at least twice a week.”

“Not at night or with snacks.”

“True..”

He saw you stuff chips in your mouth in one goal, like a rapid animal.

“Geez, y/n eat slowly. You might choke.”

“Awww, does Azul care for me~?”

“I don’t want a dead body filled with chips in the VIP lounge.”

“So mean!!”

He smiled a little. Your outgoing and cheerful attitude annoyed him at times, but he still couldn’t help but smile at how endearing you could be.

“Geez, you eat like it’s the end of your world.”

Ah.

You took out a pack of poker cards and slam it on the table.

“LET’S PLAY!”

“SEVENS, Y/N! JUST PUT IT DOWN LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN AND NOT TREAT YOUR CARDS LIKE A HAMMER-”

“Well geez, sorry.”

You took the cards out and began shuffling them, clearing the snacks to one side and spreading the cards in a circle.

“Alright, the rules are simple: You can’t quit in the middle!”

“Well, obviously.”

You had always bring about weird games to play. Like the time you played with 2 chess boards for no reason. One to play chess and one to play checkers, then if you get to take one chess or checker piece away, you had to do math question on your assignment, both of which you lost, and had to do the homework yourself. So this isn’t new to him. Maybe you’ll pull out your magic history homework.

“Alright just pick a card!”

“I got the twelve of spades.”

“HAH! QUEEN OF HEARTS!!”

“You don’t have to yell.”

“Now, since I have the larger number, I’ll ask you truth or dare!”

“So, truth or dare??”

“Truth.”

“So~ Do you think Idia or Jade is more handsome to you?~”

He nearly spit out the canned grape juice he was drinking.

“W-what type of question is that?!”

“Those are the rules! If you don’t want to answer a question you pick “dare”! And with “dare”, I’ll make you do something and you can’t quit or complain!”

This is the game of the devil, he thought. What is worse? Answering your ridiculous question or doing you ridiculous “dare”?

Screw it. Better answer than do it, right?

“I’ll stick with truth...”

“Okay! So.. Idia or Jade is handsome to you??”

“......Idia..?”

“Oooh, really ? I thought Jade was pretty handsome himself though. Ah well!”

For some reason, he felt a little irritated when you said Jade was handsome.

“Moving along!”

You two pick your cards.

“Hmm~ five of diamonds? I got twelve of clovers!~~”

“Oh goodness..”

How is he having this much of bad luck today? He’s thinking you shuffled the cards in your favor.

A little flustered due to the plum wine, you slurred a little with the next question.

“Truth or dare??”

“Truth.”

“If Idia was a girl, and she’d be the prettiest girl in NRC, and everyone else are girls, where would I be ranked in looks?”

“What?”

“ANSWER MEEEE~”

“Second.”

“H-heh???” Now you were very flustered.

“So I am pretty to you??? Aww you’re so sweet, Azul!!”

“That’s because I can never imagine NRC being a girls’ school.”

“I-”

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

“Huh??? Aw man I got two of spades!”

“Twelve of hearts.”

“Oh no..”

Well looks like the tables have finally turned. 

After answering your many ridiculous dares, it’s finally his turn. By now he can tell you’re very drunk. You weren’t think straight and you were slurring and getting flustered a lot.

“Truth or dare.”

“TRUTH!”

He paused to think for a while on what he wanted to ask you.

“Have you ever had a first kiss?”

“HuH?? WHAT? ”

“Silence fool.”

“MEANIE!!”

“But... No I haven’t. Wonder who would wanna kiss me~~?”

“Your lips would reek plum wine, I don’t think anyone would.”

“HEY AZULLL I THOUGHT WE WERE FREINDSSS!!!”

He smiled.

“I’m just joking.”

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

“Hehehehe~ Truth or dare??~~”

“...dare.”

He said hesitantly. It’s been what? 9 to 11 rounds already and you only had truths, while you complained all his questions were like job interview questions.

“Ohohoho~ Well then,” you spread your arms open, “carry meee to beddd~~”

He blanked. His face was unreadable.

“Hey! Carry-”

Suddenly, you felt your entire body being lifted from the couch. Azul was carrying you bridal style close to his chest. You felt his steady heartbeat and you couldn’t help but blush at the sudden contact.

He went over to the secret guest bedroom and plopped you down on the bed.

“I’ll make sure you’ll go back to Ramshackle tomorrow. It’s a weekend anyways.”

You buried your face in your hands as you squirmed, giggling.

“Ehehehehe~~ That really surprised me! Thank you, Azul!~~”

“Okay, Azul! Pick a card for me.”

“It’s getting very late.”

“But like what you said tomorrow is the weekend!!!!”

“Still. You should be sleeping.”

“Okay! One last dare! I promise!”

He sighed. “Fine.”

He picked a card.

“What did I get??”

“King of Spades.”

“Oooh~ What did you get???”

He picked a card. “Three clovers.”

“Hmmm~ My turn then! This one would be truth only!”

You paused and he heard the blankets being ruffled as you shifted to a different position.

“If I said.. I was really scared of dying, what would you do?”

He swerved his head to look at you, his eyes scanning you.

You were completely calm that it scared him.

“Nonsense, you aren’t going to die.”

Right?

“Aheheheh~ Well I’m super tired! You should go to sleep too!”

He off the lights, the only light shining now was the lamp beside your bed on the night stand.

“Call me when you wake up. I’ll be in my room.”

“Got it~!”

And he closed the door.

To be continued..

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

HEYA FOLKS WANT ME TO DO PART 2??? Just reblog or request I don’t know I-

I died.

[babbushka]

A December To Remember

Lawyer!Kylo Ren x Reader 

4.1k, cw: Possessive behavior; name-calling; unwanted advances from another man; NSFW (Rivals/rival relationship/enemy lovers, PIV, fingering, semi-public sex/office sex)

Available on AO3

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

When the elevator doors open, Kylo has to physically brace himself. He had heard the music blasting from seven floors away, his discomfort only growing bigger and bigger as the elevator ticked up up up to Gwen’s lobby. His hands clench into fists in his leather gloves, refusing to take them off.

He wasn’t going to be here long, he promises himself as a conga line of santa hats nearly steps on his Allen-Edmonds; he just needed to show his face, have a drink, and get out. The office is all geared up for Christmas, Kylo walks through the winter wonderland of flocked trees decorated in white and gold, garland wrapped around support poles, big faux presents arranged nicely. There’s a live band and although they played well, the music is a bit much, as are the people singing along. Kylo tunes it out to the best of his ability, on a mission, a hunt.

One thing he can at least appreciate, was that this was a cocktail party, which meant everyone was dressed up nicely. Kylo loves an excuse to bring out his expensive suits, Burberry sitting nicely on his broad shoulders. No one could say he didn’t try to be festive – he had put on a black tuxedo made of soft mohair wool, that happened to have a saucy lapel of black satin for some holiday flair.  

As he walks through the crowds of attorneys who Kylo has never seen laugh and smile so much in his career, someone hands him a peppermintini. It’s not long before he feels a tap on his shoulder, and he nearly spills the cocktail by whirling around, thinking that at last, he’s found you.

He has half a mind to smile, but whatever he had thought of saying goes out the window when he sees it is not you, but rather it’s his friend Gwen. She’s gorgeous in a silver slinky number that dips down her muscled back very low, and Kylo leans in to press his cheek against hers in greeting.

“Well well well, look who actually decided to show up.” Gwen nearly has to shout to be heard over the volume of the party.

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, takes a sip of the offending holiday cocktail – where the fuck could a guy get some whiskey around here?

“I was invited, wasn’t I?” Kylo replies, even though he’s not really looking at her. Gwen is probably the only person he knows who is as tall as him, and tonight she’s wearing heels which make her actually a few inches taller.

“Yes, but I’ve seen the stack of unopened invitations sitting on your desk.” She snaps her fingers in front of his face, drawing his attention back to her for the time being as she raises a platinum blonde brow, “Let’s not you and I pretend that you’re here because you want to enjoy the cheer of the holiday.”

The both of them exchange a little huff of laughter, because really she was right. Kylo is here because he had heard through the grapevine that you had RSVP’d, and there was nothing that could have prevented Kylo coming to see you if that were true.

“I’ve been informed that it is appropriate to make appearances now and again, even brief ones.” He sighs into his drink, nose crinkling at the sheer minty-ness of it.

“You can’t leave you just got here!” Gwen groans, “Stay for a little while, there’s some people who want to talk to you.”

“Whether or not I stay is contingent to one thing.” He shakes his head with a grimace, and at this Gwen’s sharp eyes sparkle with the light of knowing his secret.

“I last saw her over by the buffet.” Gwen sips her own cocktail, speaking lowly enough so that only he can hear, not like anyone is listening.

“I don’t know who you mean.” Kylo’s palms immediately begin to sweat inside his gloves, and he fixes the wall a hard stare to avoid that knowing look in her eye.

“Between you and me, I’m surprised she showed up just as much as I am that you did.” Gwen scoffs, and that at the very least was something Kylo understood.

As difficult as it was trying to pin Kylo down for something as unsavory as a Christmas party, you were notoriously hard to convince to come to anything for the holidays if you didn’t feel like it. It was one of the things that Kylo appreciated about you – not that Kylo liked you, or anything.

He shakes the thought away from his head.

“But you’re sure she’s here?” Kylo asks, an intensity to his question that has Gwen laughing.

“Yes – and do try not to make a scene.” She pats him on the back, before sauntering away to go entertain.

“What’s a Christmas party without a little scandal?” Kylo mutters to himself, trying to figure out which way the food was.

He recognizes people from six or seven different law firms as he tries to cut his way through the party. Gwen hadn’t been joking, about a dozen men in suits shake his hand and introduce themselves, congratulating him on winning his most recent case. Interns have stars in their eyes when he passes, and Kylo tries his best not to be such a grinch to their faces.

At this rate, he’s starting to get frustrated and irritated, he still hasn’t found you. The peppermintini was long finished, and he didn’t ask for a refill when he passed the bar. The entire outing was shaping up to be a waste, and Kylo is about ready to give up when he finally catches a whiff of your perfume.

“…That’s nice.” He hears your disinterested voice pipe up from a spot on the other end of the lobby where he has wandered, and Kylo lets himself be led to you, using his height to search for you in the jovial crowd.

Some schmuck is trying to herd you in the direction of where a big sprig of mistletoe has been tied under a doorframe, and the minute Kylo sees it happening, jealousy and rage simmer up straight up his spine.

“Isn’t it? I got the sonofabitch off a ten-year sentence. He was absolutely guilty but, that’s not my problem anymore.” A handsome pretty boy with perfectly straight teeth that are practically fluorescent from how white they are tries dazzling you.

“Uh huh.” You sound like you could not care less, and that for some reason only makes Kylo angrier – couldn’t this boy see that you weren’t interested?

Kylo tries to say his excuse me and his pardon mes, as he winds through the lobby on his mission to you. It’s difficult, because you won’t stay still for fucks sake, so every time Kylo thinks he’s just about gotten to you, you take a sharp turn to try and lose the boy’s unwanted attention.

“So anyway I was thinking to celebrate, maybe you can come back to mine after this shindig gets wrapped up.” He says, slipping an arm around your waist.

Kylo’s blood boils.

“Excuse me?” Your tone shifts dramatically, from uninterested to offended at his presumptions. Your body stiffens up at once, and that arm drops from your waist like he’s been electrocuted.

“I brought my own car and everything, we don’t even have to take the subway.” The boy tries to impress you, but you’re having none of it.

“I don’t think so, I have no intentions on going anywhere with you.” You shut his advances down, “Tonight, or any night.”

This angers the boy, which in turn makes Kylo see red, and he doesn’t even realize that he’s literally shoving himself in between happy couples and groups of cheerful friends to close that last bit of distance between you and him.

“Well then what the hell have you been doing this entire time, leading me on like this?” The boy reaches out to grasp harshly around your wrist when you try and make your leave, “Hey – !”

“She said no.” Kylo’s voice is dark and dangerous as he appears behind the boy, who drops your wrist at once.

“Kylo?” The sound of his name on your lips is enough to keep him from killing this boy in a blind rage, and his eyes flick to you in a very curt greeting.

“Listen to me -- and listen to me carefully.” Kylo looms over this lesser attorney, casting a shadow over the boy’s face from the sheer breadth of him, “I am going to close my eyes and count to three. If you are still here bothering this woman when I open them again, I will reach down your throat and rip your lungs out through your mouth and I will make it look like an accident. Understand?”

“Y-yes.” The boy stammers out, nearly chokes.

“Yes what?” Kylo sneers, jaw clenched.

“Yes sir!” He squeaks in terror -- Kylo doesn’t even have to close his eyes before the boy is scrambling away, and everyone around you is snickering at how he’s gone bright red in the face as he leaves the party entirely.

Now that that was taken care of, Kylo holds a hand out for you, which you take automatically. He would never admit to it, but the feeling of your palm against his has him calm almost at once.

“You have to stop doing that, you know.” You say, as Kylo leads you away from the crowded party of the lobby, and out towards the big balcony.

It’s cold outside, the past few days bringing a light dusting of snow, but you don’t seem to mind. You’ve got a fur stole wrapped around your shoulders to keep you warm. Even out here has been decorated to match the Christmas spirit, with twinkling lights covering every available surface.

“Oh but it’s so fun to watch them squirm.” He smiles, pulling you close to him as the two of you rest against the railing.

“No, not that,” You shake your head, “I mean rescuing me. I can handle myself.”

“I know you can, but again, where would be the fun in that?” Kylo only winks, and you lightly smack his arm.

You’re about to say something, when you notice that dangling above both of your heads is a bit of mistletoe, tied together with a red velvet ribbon. It spins ever so gently in the slight breeze from being so high up, and you nudge Kylo’s hand on the railing with your own.

“Look.” You whisper, and Kylo looks up too.

“Now who put that there…?” He grins smooth as ever, as he ducks his head down and kisses you.

Kissing you was rapidly becoming one of Kylo’s favorite pastimes. It was too bad you were such a fucking pain in his side most of the time, if you weren’t so stubborn and difficult, he’s sure you’d spend a lot more time kissing each other.

But then again, you are stubborn and difficult, and you have no intention of stopping. Kylo hates that about you, hates how upset it makes him. No one gets under his skin the way you do, and so he pays you back by giving you the best kiss of your life – that’ll show you.

Your mouth parts for his, eyes closed. Your breaths come out in little sighs, and Kylo feels his body reacting to it. He hasn’t been able to get a good look at you all evening, but when he does, he loves what he sees. You’re wearing a dress in a color that perfectly compliments your skin, in a shape that fits your body exactly how you like it to.

His hands grasp at your hips a little too tightly, making you nip at his lower lip with a teasing smirk.

Christmas has never been something Kylo cared remotely about, but he’s big enough to admit that the lights really do wonders for making you look like a goddamned movie star. You both pull away enough just in case someone were to look out the window or come onto the balcony and see – neither of you could really have that, it was bad enough that there were bets about you through the different firms, the last thing you needed was to let any one side win.

“It’s criminal, how good you look.” Kylo tugs on the fabric of your neckline, “Someone ought to do something about it.”

“Hmm, like what?” You play along, your hand reaching down down down and grasping a hold of Kylo’s cock, ever so briefly, giving in a squeeze.

“Bend you over and fuck you hard, just the way you deserve.” He presses his mouth against your ear, he can practically hear your heartbeat picking up.

“Too bad you scared off poor Mike,” You say with a tsk of your tongue against the roof of your mouth, “I bet he would’ve loved to do the honors.”

Mike, that was the schmucks name? Kylo had almost forgotten entirely about him, about the way he had put his hands on you without your permission. He would make a couple calls, get the kid fired.

Or demoted, at the very least.

He wasn’t sure yet.

“You want to get me mad, is that it? And here we were having such a nice time.” Kylo looks around again, makes sure no one is seeing anything that’s happening out there on the balcony as he snakes a hand up up up your thigh.

“Maybe I like it when you’re mad, maybe I know you’re going to show me a real good time.” You smirk, and Kylo is reminded why he hates you so much, you’re so spoiled, getting whatever you want whenever you want it.

“Such a fucking brat.” He snaps, hand reaching for your and tugging you back through the doors with a, “Come with me.”

Kylo is faced with the party once again and is trying to find the best way to get the fuck out of there, when you pull him in a different direction.

“No – I know a spot, this way.” You bite back a pleased grin, and Kylo has to roll his eyes, letting you lead the way.

Deep deep deep in the bowels of the office, far away from the lobby and all the festivities, the music sounds a million miles away. You’ve tugged Kylo into a conference room with big glass walls and a glass door, like a little zoo enclosure. It’s nearly pitch black, none of the lights are turned on. The only illumination is from the city outside, the ambient glow of New York beginning their celebration of Christmas. The Rockefeller tree shines brightly a few blocks down the road, a perfect view from this conference room.

Fleetingly, Kylo has half a mind to ask you to go ice skating, but then you’re hopping up on the table and spreading your legs, the skirt of your dress hiked up around your hips. You’re not wearing any panties, a pair of thigh garters holding up your stockings – and Kylo’s mind goes blank.

“Aren’t you cold?” He asks, immediately pushing you farther up the table, wanting a better view of your pussy as your thighs rub together from being so exposed.

“Yes,” You admit licking your lips, “But you’ll warm me up, won’t you?”

Kylo groans, bites off his gloves with his teeth, wastes no time in trailing his fingertips through your folds. You squirm at the touch, wanting to be filled by him, any way you could get it. He dips them deeper between your legs, nothing but the sound of your breathing filling the quiet of the room.

“Slut, god what a fucking slut you are – look at you, pussy already wet for me.” Kylo grits out between his teeth, his cock filling out in his expensive trousers, straining against his briefs.

His fingers seek the wet heat of your cunt, and he pumps them in and out slowly while he tries undoing the buckle of his belt. Your hands help him, your legs falling open farther as his fingers bury themselves in your pussy. The stretch is beautiful, and you moan, leaning back until you’re resting on the table fully.

“Are you going to talk? Or are you going to fuck me?” You challenge from your spot on the table, your hands rubbing up and down your stomach, hips lifting so he can finger you a little faster.

“Both, I can do both, fuck you’re sexy.” He huffs, unbuttons his suit jacket, shucks down his trousers and briefs enough to pull his cock out and give it a good few strokes with the hand that’s not thrusting in and out of your cunt, blunt nails dragging against your walls.

“I know.” You’re full of yourself – full of Kylo – and you moan from the thought, “Hurry up, someone could catch us.”

“No they can’t, I locked the door. It’s just you and me sweetheart – thaaaat’s it.” Kylo replaces his fingers with his cock, your folds swallowing him down, oozing and dripping slick all over your thighs.

He shoves in roughly once he’s got the head in, pushes into you in one fluid motion that has your back arching. Kylo grabs at your legs, is careful of your heels as he pins your ankles together and tucks them against his shoulder, your body pressed together as he begins to thrust in earnest.

“Yes! Fucking finally,” Your palms smear sweat on the polished wood of the conference table, and before he knows it, you’re pulling one hand up to lightly smack at his arm. “You know I’ve been waiting here for you for two fucking hours, you asshole.”

Only you could give him such an icy glare while also pushing your tits up for him to play with. Kylo reaches out to pinch hard at one of your nipples, and you whine, your thighs trembling just a little from being held up like this.

Kylo’s big fat cock stuffs you full, your pussy even tighter from having your legs pressed together like this. Normally he likes to look down and watch his dick disappear into you, but he can barely see your face as it is in the dark of the room, so he doesn’t mind. Besides, he can feel you – can feel the way you throb and pulse around him, how you flutter and clench, and it’s enough.

“If I had known – damn you’re tight – you’d be here – fuck (Y/N) – I would’ve come earlier.” Kylo latches himself to your neck, bending you nearly in half as his hips speed up, his balls smacking against your ass as he pushes you up up up the table.

“I – ah Kylo be careful,” You warn him when one of your shoes falls right off your foot and lands on the wood with a thud. He rips the other one off and throws it to the floor, leaving your legs in nothing but the stockings and garters. Your hand tangles in his hair as you press him back down to your throat, where he sucks and bites at your skin. “I don’t know why you couldn’t just fucking call me back. We – oh yes, yes harder come on – we could’ve avoided all this bullshit.”

“You’re the one who hung up on me last time!” Kylo pulls himself more upright, scowling down at you as he grabs your face, gives your jaw a little shake.

“Oh!!” Your body tenses up unexpectedly, his cock accidentally slipping out and pushing back in wrong.

Kylo fumbles just a little bit in the dark, lets your legs fall as he tries to fix the angle, tries to get himself back inside your pussy as quickly as he can. It just feels wrong to not fuck you, it feels wrong to not be joined with you as completely as possible. Even when you’re scowling at him and he’s glowering right back at you – maybe especially then.

“Relax for me?” Kylo strokes your hip with his thumb, and your body gives way for him once again, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pushes back in and continues fucking you exactly like you like it, “There we go, anyway you wouldn’t have answered me.”

“Could’ve – faster Kylo, you could’ve left a voicemail.” You hiccup, and he hates that you’re right.

He hates it as your body opens up for him, takes him, takes the fucking. You’re such a fucking princess you make him do all the work with a big smug grin on your face before he shifts his hips just right in a way that’s got your eyes rolled back into your head, mouth dropped open. He grabs your jaw again and makes out with you, wants his tongue on yours, wants your teeth scraping against his.

“Sure – fuck you, ugh fuck, I’m – ” Kylo can barely get the words out, kissing you and fucking you in the dark and quiet like this, while everyone enjoys the party just beyond the locked door of the open floor plan of cubicles.

“Me too,” You nod, desperate for him, wanting to come so badly that you twine your fingers into his hair and tug sharply, voice breathy and high and panting as you demand, “Kylo more – !”

He gives it to you, plows his cock into you so hard that he pushes the table askew, makes the chairs on their rolling wheels move all over the place from the effort of it. He bites down hard onto your neck and rubs your clit, rolls it between his fingers while his cock forces itself as deep as it can go, shallow thrusts to fill you up all the way, pushing right up against your cervix, making you yelp out your orgasm.

Feeling your cunt throb and gush for him, Kylo comes soon after, pumping himself in and out mindlessly, the both of you reveling in your pleasure. With a weak shaking hand, you tug down the sleeves of the bodice of your dress, let it fall away from your breasts. Like a moth to flame, Kylo is drawn to your cleavage, and he wastes no time pulling one of your tits out of the pretty lacy bra you’ve got on.

He sucks and kisses at your flesh as his cock pulses and spills more come into you, the both of you trying to catch your breath. He spares a glance up to you, pleased to see you’re fucked out nicely, eyes closed, lips parted and drooling just a little onto your cheek as you’ve got your face turned to one side. Kylo lets his eyes close too, mouths at your nipple until he’s sure he’s emptied himself inside of your wanting cunt.

Then, when he pulls you to sit upright on the table, instead of helping you with your clothes or even cleaning up the mess between your thighs, he stays buried inside of you and fishes his phone out from the inside of his jacket pocket.

“What are you doing?” You ask with a nosy frown, trying to lean around his big hand and see what he’s pulling up on his phone.

Kylo just kisses you quiet, dials the phone and puts it up to his ear while it rings.

“Calling the car to come pick us up and take us back to my place,” He murmurs against the corner of your mouth, before cracking the joints in his neck and grumbling, “Unless you’d rather mingle with a hundred boring nobodies like Mike instead.”

You just scrub a hand down your face with a smile, try to start fixing your hair back to something less mussed.

“I’m starving, can we pick up takeout on the way?” You stretch, wincing when Kylo finally does pull out of you, the feeling of being empty making you grimace just a bit.

He chuckles and kisses you again, lets your arms slip around his neck without any protest.

“Whatever you want.” Kylo kisses your cheek, diverting his attention to the phone call once his driver picks up.

Though the holidays had you at one another’s throats like rabid vicious dogs most days, Kylo wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. Because for all the bitching and bickering, there were moments like these. Moments in the dark where you both let yourselves have what it was that you wanted.

And who knew, maybe the new year would bring about a whole new set of opportunities and possibilities, you’d just have to wait and see. One thing was for sure though, Kylo thinks as he helps you off the table and you both search for some tissues or something to wipe up the mess you’ve made, it certainly was a December to remember.