#yes they're by the book but the book was written by a guy who bodily throws himself at his enemies

[levitatingbiscuits]

Something very dear to my heart is the 501st thinking they're the badass rebel loose canons who do all the reckless crazy shit compared to the straight-laced, spick and span 212th who are extremely formal and put-together by comparison...

...until they start running joint campaigns and the 501st realize that the 212th are a disciplined, orderly, well-mannered battalion of ABSOLUTE FUCKING LUNATICS

[scarletqueenx]

chapter seven - dark magic

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: After a few months dating, Dean abandoned you in a motel room without giving you any explanation, years later his brother and he saved you from a demon and now you hunt with them discovering every day new mysteries about your family and the destiny that awaits you. Heaven, hell, demons, angels, vampires, witches and much more.

Author’s Note: English is not my first language. This is my first time writing in the readers perspective, as i'm used to write oc´s.

series masterlist

Looking into the book and the knife Maddie had given you was much more difficult with the Winchester brothers constantly at your side. Yes, in some motels you got separate adjoining rooms, which gave you more leeway, but most of the time you were never completely alone.

For the moment, all you had managed to do was confirm that the book was indeed a spell book. All written by a witch named Ophelia, whose name was written on the back cover. But the knife was a complete mystery. None of the symbols written on its blade made any sense to you. Although its balance and weight were perfect for hunting and for fiddling with while doing research.

Talking to Bobby was out of the question. Your father even more so, as you were convinced he was hiding things from you. And Dean and Sam. Well, you had come to the conclusion that they could help you, especially Sam, but after hearing Dean's thoughts about witches while working on your current case, you decided it would be best not to bring it up.

"I hate witches." Dean had said. "They're always spewing their bodily fluids everywhere."

You couldn't help but frown, remembering how you brother had hinted that your mother may have been a witch. And if that was true, either she was a very different one from the ones Dean knew or Dean didn't know what a witch really looked like.

"It's creepy, you know, it's down right unsanitary." He continued.

"Yeah, well someone definitely had it out for Janet Dutton." Sam commented, mentioning the victim, who had died after all her teeth fell out of her mouth due to a hex bag.

"Yeah, someone who snuck into that house and planted the bag. So, what are we thinking, we're uh, looking for some old craggy Blair bitch in the woods?" Dean asked.

"No, it could be anyone. Neighbor, coworker, man, woman—that's the problem, Dean, they're human, they're like everyone else."

"Okay, so how do we find them?"

"This wasn't random; someone in Janet Dutton's life had an ugly axe to grind. We find the motive-"

"We find the murderer." Dean completed his brothers words. Sam nodded.

"Yeah."

Dean nodded slightly, his gaze traveling to you, who had been quiet ever since you'd gone to the victim's house to question the husband. You were sitting on the room's couch, lost in thought as you fiddled with your necklace.

"Are you gonna say something?" He asked. You looked up, watching him in confusion. "Witches."

"Oh. Yeah, right." You nodded nervously. "Uh... I think you guys should handle this case. I'm not feeling very well." You admitted in a lie. This was your perfect opportunity to be alone. "I'll do research if you need me to."

"Are you sure? Do you feel all right?" Sam asked with concern in his voice.

"Oh, yeah, nothing serious." You assured. "You know, menstrual cramps."

"Okay, I didn't need to know that information." Dean complained, looking away.

"It's natural, Dean. No need for that reaction."

"Yeah, no... I know." He replied quickly. "Do... Do you need anything?" He asked hesitantly, to which you couldn't help but smile as Sam let out a small amused chuckle.

"Chocolate would be nice." You admitted. "Thanks, Dean."

"Yeah, whatever." He sighed leaving the motel room.

You and Sam couldn't help but smile and shared an amused look.

"You sure you're okay?" Sam asked as he grabbed his jacket.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You nodded. "Go keep an eye on Janet's husband. If someone wanted to get back at her for something, they might want to hurt him too."

"Yeah, that's possible." He admitted thoughtfully. "Good idea."

"Anytime." You smiled before watching him leave.

─── ❖ ��─ ✦ ── ❖ ───

You weren't worried about Sam and Dean, you knew they could deal with it on their own. But you still couldn't help but feel a sense of distress. It had appeared at the very instant you had stepped into that city. As if something was waiting or lurking for you. That provoked an uneasiness in you and it was quite noticeable by how you paced back and forth across the room as you read that spell book in an attempt of finding something that looked familiar to you.

The room was in complete silence, only filled by your footsteps and your breathing. So when your phone rang, you almost jolted. With your heart pounding in your chest, you quickly ran to the bedside table where you had left it and answered it without checking who it was.

"Hello?" You said, clearing you throat at the sound of your tired voice.

"Hey, sweetheart." Your father answered on the other end of the line.

"Dad, what's wrong? Everything okay? Why haven't you gone back home yet?" You asked with concern, since your father had stopped answering your calls and messages for weeks. Even after Christmas.

"I'm going to see Carter."

"What? Why?"

"I can't explain it yet, I'm sorry. I just wanted you to know that I'm okay."

"Great, I'm glad." You replied sarcastically. "I'm fine too, thank you very much for asking. Oh, and the son you left home alone is also perfectly fine. I can see you're really worried about him."

"I..."

"Leave it. I don't want to hear it."

"No, listen... You must be careful..." His voice cut out as the radio on the bedside table suddenly began to play.

"Dad?" Your frowned, looking down at your phone to check if the call was still on. "Dad?"

"Listen..." Henry's voice sounded for a moment before it was cut once again as the song on the radio changed. You quickly recognized it as I Put a Spell on You by Screamin' Jay Hawkins which only made your confusion grow.

What your didn't know was that the same song was also being played on the car radio of Paul Dutton, Janet's husband and the next victim of the witch who had killed her. Fortunately for him Sam and Dean were able to save him as they had been following him.

Alarmed by what had happened and after trying to call your father again, you decided to prepare the room so that nothing supernatural could enter it. Lines of salt, a bottle of holy water in your hand and your gun. You cursed Dean for taking the Colt, although it made sense considering he was in the middle of a hunt.

Just as you finished getting everything ready a message from Dean came through on your phone, asking how you were doing and informing you that he and Sam were on their way to the supposed witch's house. You sighed with relief as you saw his message, a faint smile peeking over your lips at his concern for you. A smile that only grew when Dean added that he had bought the chocolate you had asked for and would bring it to you as soon as they were done.

But again, another noise brought you out of your thoughts and caused your smile to fade. This time it wasn't the radio, which had stopped playing once the song was over. This time it had been two knocks on the motel room door.

"I know you're in there." A woman's voice was heard from the other side of the door. A voice completely unfamiliar to you. "I don't want to do this the hard way, so why don't you come out so we can talk? I promise I come in peace. I just want to chat."

"Who are you?" You asked, pointing your gun at the door.

The mysterious woman left out a sigh before answering. "My name is written in that book you have hidden under the bed and whose location you lied to your brother about. Poor Carter really tried to look for it in that mental institution. He didn't think you were smart enough to lie to him and take it away. Or so stupid. I still can't make up my mind what you are. Although if you listen to me and leave the room maybe you'll clear up that doubt for me."

You looked down for a second at Dean's bed, right where you had hidden the book.

Hesitantly, you decided to open the door and leave the room. Leaning against the wall, a beautiful woman with brown hair and brown eyes was waiting for you. She was dressed completely in black and her face had a smile on it.

"So smart is it." The woman commented as you appeared before her. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Ophelia." She stretched out her hand towards you.

"You are the witch who wrote the book." You assumed, ignoring her hand.

"Was." Ophelia corrected. "There is nothing left of the woman I used to be. Not anymore." She explained, showing her dark black eyes which revealed her as a demon. "Relax, I'm not here to hurt you." Ophelia spoke again as she watched you pull out a small bottle from your jacket pocket. A bottle that contained enough holy water to harm her while you locked and protected yourself back in the room.

"I don't like demons, so you'd better talk fast." You threatened, tightening your grip on the bottle, ready to throw it at her.

"Yeah, I know. I'm aware of what happened." Ophelia admitted. "I'm really sorry. But I'm not like them. I'm not like the rest of the demons."

"Why is that? Because before you went to hell you were a witch?" You raised your eyebrows.

"Yes. And no." She answered. "You see, hon, I knew your ancestor. The reason you're in this world is because of me. I'm the one who gave her a potion so she could get pregnant. I am the reason your family is still in this world. And the reason you and your brothers are special."

"What are you talking about?" You frowned.

"Though of course, it was bound to happen. So maybe you're not that special after all. Another woman could have been the one to ask for my help. But it was your ancestor, so here we are." Ophelia sighed.

"Would you care to explain?"

"I don't have time for this. I just want my book."

"Sure you do. You know where it is. Come on in." You stepped aside, leaving the entrance to the room completely clear for her. Ophelia smiled.

"I know there's a demon trap drawn over there. I'm not going in."

"Then you won't get the book." You shrugged.

"You don't want that book, believe me. It will only lead you to want to awaken your powers and that's a lousy idea. You'll put a target on your head, just like your brother did. And your mother before him."

"So it's true, my mother was a witch?" You asked making her sigh.

"When I made the potion so that Melinda could have kids, I used some special ingredients. And when we were burned for witchcraft, I anchored my power to that book and her daughter Sarah." Ophelia explained. "Magic has run through the veins of your maternal family until the birth of Carter, the first son in generations. A prophet wrote that when two boys and a girl were born to this family, the power would be uncontrollable."

"That's why a demon killed my mother and then wanted to kill Peter?"

"With your mother dead there would be no more sons. And as macabre as it sounds, Peter was just a baby. His death would hurt less."

"Sounds like you decided that." You pointed in confusion.

"If one of the males dies your bond with me will die and the magic will disappear. That's what I and all the demons want." Ophelia declared, crossing her arms.

"And the book?"

"It's dangerous if other witches find it."

"I'll make sure it doesn't happen." You assured, going back into the room, but Ophelia grabbed you arm before you could do so.

"I have come in peace. I wouldn't want to have to take it from you the hard way."

"From what you've explained to me, you've already done that once."

"I didn't kill your mother."

"Maybe not, but it was you who sent the demon, wasn't it? You ordered him to kill her."

"No. He killed her because she broke a deal. I told him to kill Peter to break the bond and bring me the book. He did neither. He's useless."

"You also killed Maddie's mother, didn't you?" You assumed without paying much attention to her words.

"I knew she had the book. But she hid it very well and I still don't know how."

You were about to speak but the sound of the Impala's engine caught both your and Ophelia's attention.

"I'll be back." The woman assured. "And when I do, I'll leave with the book." She then released your arm and disappeared into the darkness of the night before Dean and Sam could get out of the car at a much faster speed than usual.

The eldest of the brothers was the first to reach you, his hands gripping your shoulders and his eyes watching your with concern as he searched for any injuries. "Are you all right? Who was that woman?"

"I... She..."

"She's gone." Sam spoke as he reached them after trying to follow Ophelia. His breathing accelerated due to his running.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

After the three of you walked back into the room, you ran to lock yourself in the bathroom without saying a word. Dean insisted that you tell him what had happened, but it was clear to him that you were too shaken to do so.

Sam watched as his brother paced back and forth nervously, running a hand through his hair as he gave quick glances at the bathroom door.

"Do you think it was a witch?" His question broke the silence.

"No. It was a demon." Dean assured. "She lied to us about Salem. And all this... Her traveling with us, it all started because of the demon that kidnapped her. She's hiding something."

"Hiding what?" Sam frowned.

"I don't know, Sam." Dean answered.

"So what do you think? That girl was the demon that kidnapped her back there in San Francisco?"

"I don't know. It could have possessed someone else. But... There's something else. She said she could have stolen the Colt and the car and taken off. But if it was a random demon, she wouldn't be so eager to kill it, would she?"

"An exorcism would be enough." Sam admitted.

"Yeah, and she certainly knows how to do one. Why would she want the Colt?"

Sam remained silent, not knowing what to say. His head spinning with possible explanations.

You still weren't able to process the things Ophelia had told you. She was one of the reasons for all your suffering. She was the cause of much of the pain your family had been exposed to. And your wanted her dead. But you remembered the fear in your father's voice on the call earlier. He had told you to be careful. You knew Ophelia wanted the book and would do anything to get it back. So now there was just one person in your mind. Peter.

"I'm leaving." You declared as you came out of the bathroom. Your voice caught both Winchester brothers' attention, who still hadn't quite processed you words.

"What? No." Dean answered.

"This was a mistake. I should never have left home with you in the first place. I have to go back home."

"No, what you have to do is tell us what the hell is going on." He corrected as he watched you go through her things. He called your name numerous times, but you continued to ignore him. "Talk to us." Dean walked towards you, holding your arms to force you to look him in the eye. "Talk to me." His voice came out pleading. You could see the desperation reflected in his eyes.

You looked at him with hesitation. If you told them the truth, the whole truth, they might reject you because your mother was a witch. Dean had said it himself, he hated witches. And if there was a chance that you were one too, who knew what they would do. You couldn't do it. You couldn't tell them the truth. Right?

Just then the radio started playing once again, the same song as before. But it couldn't be Ophelia causing it, she couldn't have come back yet. It was clear she had left because she was afraid the Winchesters might use the Colt against her. But then again, had it been you who had caused the radio to turn itself on? Had your magic already awakened and you were unable to control it?

"What the hell?" Dean frowned, looking at the radio.

"Isn't that the song that was playing in Paul's car?" Sam asked in confusion. His question brought you out of your thoughts. Your eyes darting quickly away from Dean to travel to Sam.

"What?" You asks, puzzled.

"The song. It's the one that was playing when Paul was attacked." He explained.

"I thought..."

"What?" Dean turned to you. But then the impala's lights began to flicker, attracting his attention. Quickly, Dean released your arms and opened the room's door, finding a woman standing next to his car.

You and Sam were soon on Dean's side, their eyes also on the woman.

"Ruby." Sam murmured as he recognized her. You frowned in confusion.

"Sam, listen to me, there's no time." Ruby spoke looking only at him.

"For what? What are you talking about?" Sam frowned.

"You have to get out of town."

"So this is Ruby, huh?" Dean asked, pulling out the Colt, raising it and aiming it at her. "Never had the pleasure."

"Dean!" Sam warned him.

"I was hoping you'd show up again." Dean watched the blonde-haired woman, ignoring his brother as you remained completely confused by the situation.

"Point that thing somewhere else." She warned him.

"Hahahaha! Right."

"Sam, please. Go. Get in the car and don't look back." Ruby insisted, looking back at the young Winchester.

"Why? I don't understand."

"Hey, hot stuff, we can take care of a few kitchen witches, thanks." Dean said. You looked up at him with a knot of fear in your chest.

"I'm not talking about witches, you jackass. Witches are whores. I'm talking about who they serve." Ruby answered.

Dean and Sam shared a confused look for a second, but you seemed to understand her words pretty quickly.

"Demons." You whispered, but they were able to hear you, their eyes quickly falling on you. "They get their power from demons." You looked up at Ruby.

"Yeah. And there's one here, now."

"Yeah, no shit." You replied with a scoff. "Oh, what, you mean besides you?"

"Sam, it knows you're in town and it's gonna come after you and its way more than you can handle." Ruby insisted, ignoring your and Dean.

"Oh come on, what is this, huh? Please tell me you're not listening to this crap!" Dean looked back to his brother.

"Put a leash on your brother, Sam, if you wanna keep him."

"Try touching him, see how that goes for you." You quickly warned her, clutching the handle of the knife you kept hidden behind your back, attached to your belt. Dean couldn't help but give you a quick glance, surprised at your protectiveness towards him.

"Guys, look, just chill out." Sam asked them.

"No! No!" Dean exclaimed. "She's messing with your head, God knows why, that's who they are!"

"I'm telling you the truth." Ruby assured.

"And I'm telling you to shut up, bitch."

"I'm sorry, why are you even a part of this conversation?!"

"Oh, I don't know maybe because he's my brother, you black-eyed skank!"

"Oh, right, right. You care about your brother so much. That's why you're checking out in a few months, leaving him all alone?"

"Shut up."

"At least let me try and save him, since you won't be here to do it any more."

"I said shut up!"

Dean moved to fire the Colt at Ruby, but Sam pushed his arm away from her as he fired the gun. You staggered as Dean hit your shoulder as he fought against Sam's hold and when you turned your eyes back to Ruby, she was already gone.

"Two demons in one day. Great. That's a new record for me." You commented as you walked back into the room, going back to gather your things.

Dean sighed, giving his brother a disappointed look before following you.

"You're not leaving." He declared.

"I'm a grown-up, Dean. I can make my own decisions. Thank you for your concern." You answered making him roll his eyes.

"I know you don't want to leave."

"That doesn't matter." You assured, turning back to him. "You heard that demon Ruby, there's another one around and I'm pretty sure she wasn't talking about the one who came to visit me." You declared, reaching down to pull the book out from under the bed. Dean frowned as he didn't recognize the cover of it. Reading wasn't his biggest hobby, but he'd noticed the books you and his brother had brought from your family home, and that wasn't one of them. "I have reason to think Peter may be in danger. He's my little brother, Dean, I know you understand that."

"I do. But we can help you." Dean insisted.

You shook your head. "No, you can't. I have to do this alone. I'm sorry."

"At least tell me what's going on. Who was that woman?"

"A demon."

"Yeah, I've got that much, thank you." He scoffed.

You sighed before answering. "She killed my mother. Well, not her personally, but she's one of the reasons she's dead."

Dean frowned at your explanation before sharing a look with his brother. You looked at them in confusion, your attention turned to Sam when he uttered your name.

"This question might seem strange to you, but... how old were you and Peter when it happened?"

You gave him a puzzled look, not quite sure if he was joking. But his serious look assured you that he was completely serious about the question.

"I was ten years old. Peter was just born. I think he was barely six months old." You answered. "Why?"

"Our mother was also killed by a demon when I was just six months old." Sam explained. "Our father spent his life looking for the demon to kill him. Dean shot him with the Colt less than a year ago."

Your eyes traveled to the eldest.

"That wasn't the same demon that killed my mother." You assured them.

"How do you know?" Dean asked. "Was there a fire in your house that night?"

You shook your head with a humorless smile.

"This demon was the one who kidnapped me back in San Francisco. He's still alive." You answered. "I wish it was the one you killed, Dean, everything would be so much easier."

Dean's green eyes watched you closely, catching the pain reflected in them and the tears you fought to hold back. He recognized your pain, it was the same pain he had felt since his mother's death. A pain that had been with him ever since.

"Listen to me." Dean walked towards you, placing his hands on your shoulders. "We finish this case and go back to your house. I promise."

You wanted to accept his offer, you really did. But something in her knew Peter was not safe, an almost maternal instinct. Besides, if you got away from the Winchester brothers, Ophelia wouldn't hurt them when she came back for the book.

"I'm so sorry, Dean." You said sincerely. "I'm not trying to repay the pain I felt when you left. This isn't about you. I wish I could stay, but it's all too complicated. I really hope I get to see you again before..."

You couldn't finish the sentence. The thought of Dean dying and the possibility of never seeing him again was too painful for you. So you just wrapped him in a hug, laying your head on his shoulder. Dean's arms were quick to return the embrace, his head resting on yours as he closed his eyes. Both of you enjoying the intimacy of the moment between you two. It hurt, it hurt a lot, more that you would had thought.

The hug lasted a few seconds, but it felt quite short to both of you. After you pulled apart, you were barely able to look him in the eyes. So you simply gathered your things and said goodbye to Sam with another quick hug.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Leaving without explanation was one of the things you hated most. That's why it had hurt you so much when Dean had done it to you, because you didn't understand how someone could do something like that. You never thought you would. Yes, technically you had said goodbye to them, but you hadn't been entirely honest. And a part of you felt that if you never saw them again, you would always regret that.

Now, sitting in that bus station, you tried to forget about both Winchesters as you reached out to your father and little brother.

As you expected, Henry did not answer any of your three calls. And unlike him, Peter did, almost immediately.

Relief washed over you when you heard your little brother's voice on the other end of the line. You could almost see his face. Just by hearing him you knew he had a smile painted on his lips.

"Hi, buddy. You know what? I'm coming home." You announced with a smile. However, Peter's unexpected reaction formed a frown on your face.

"What? Why? That idiot didn't leave you again, did he? I swear to God..."

"Peter." You cut him off. "It's not because of Dean. I miss you and Dad..."

"Dad can go to hell with him." Peter said. "He won't even answer my calls."

"Peter, don't say that..."

"Why?" He interrupted her. "He hasn't come home yet. He didn't even send a gift. He always sends me a present at Christmas. I'm fine with Maddie, you can stay with the Winchesters idiots."

"Maddie should be free to go. I'm your sister, I should be there." You declared, but Peter didn't answered you this time and soon after you heard a strange bang through the call. "Peter?" When no one answered, you began to feel really worried. You breathing hitching and heart racing. "Peter?"

Maddie's voice came through the phone seconds later.

"Maddie? What's going on?" You asked.

"There's someone in the house." That was all the she could say before she dropped the phone and ran away. The call then ended, leaving you completely panicked and powerless.

"Are you gonna give me the book now?" A familiar voice spoke next to you, making you jolt. You quickly grasped the handle of the knife on your belt, ready to attack. "You don't have the Colt, so don't bother. You can't kill me." Ophelia assured, settling onto the bench next to you. 

You turned to her with a serious expression and without any hint of fear in your eyes. Ophelia smiled. "Now, we are gonna go to your house in San Francisco and when we get there, you will hand over the book or Peter dies." The demon declared. "Got it?"

You couldn't help but clench your jaw in frustration. You wanted to kill her right there and then. Even in front of all those people at the bus station, you didn't care about anything at that moment, just your little brother. But you also knew you couldn't do anything to her. Nothing would work on a demon, not permanently, and that would only lead to Peter and Maddie ending up dead.

"Got it." Freya answered then, trying to remain calm.

"Great." She smiled.

Keep Reading: Chapter Eight

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @lmhf1 @mochminnie @helo1281917 @barnes70stark @slyregg

If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment

[hyperlexichypatia]

Hey so I just read your post on the right to die movement and I thought it was really interesting. Do people who are hospitalized/on life support/in intensive care count as disabled, or do you think there are different “rules” in that case? Also, I would be interested to hear your thoughts on the argument that: for someone to make the decision to get killed, they need to be a certain level of “sane” for true consent, and asking someone to kill you definitively constitutes “insanity”.

Second part is easy: I don't believe that "sanity" or "insanity" are meaningful concepts that exist, and bodily autonomy should be for all people all the time. I've written a lot about this topic, which you can find under my tags "mad liberation," "psych abolition," "anti psychiatry"... I'm not a good tagger, but I try. And a lot of Mad/neurodivergent/psych abolition/etc people have made some resource roundups like this one and this one. One of my favorite books I've read most recently is "Psychiatric Hegemony: A Marxist Theory of Mental Illness" by Bruce M.Z. Cohen (you can download it here).

Sorry if this is too much of an infodump, but tl;dr: I completely reject the concepts of "sanity" and "insanity", and the concept of restricting anyone's bodily autonomy based on their so-called "sanity."

The first question is a little more complicated -- definitions of "disability" usually include some component of "permanent" or "long-term," so someone who's (temporarily) sick, injured, hospitalized, etc. may not be counted as "disabled" per se. But I don't think it's necessarily that simple. I'm looking at "disability" as the relationship between a person's body/mind and their environment's expectations of them, not really as a stable identity category or a binary. So, say somebody is hospitalized with a broken leg that's projected to heal in six weeks. You could argue that this person isn't disabled, because the condition is temporary, and also, people with temporary injuries/illnesses/etc are subjected to much less systemic and cultural ableism than "long-term" disabled people are, because they're seen as sympathetic victims of misfortune rather than useless eaters. On the other hand, someone who's temporarily impaired is actively living with that impairment in that moment. If this hypothetical person with a broken leg uses a wheelchair, he can't get into an inaccessible building any more than a lifelong chair-user can. And then you get into questions of projected medical timelines, and what constitutes being "no longer disabled." Suppose this guy's broken leg heals, and he no longer uses a wheelchair, but for the rest of his life, he has chronic pain in his leg, and he can't walk as far as he could before the injury. Now is he disabled?

So... it depends? But in general, I would say yes.

Specifically, in the case of physician-assisted death, this is generally only done to people whose disabilities are considered permanent.

So, put another way: If your government thinks you're too disabled to live, you're definitely disabled.

[randomingoftherandomness]

OT3, during exile, Booker sometimes takes missions still. One time, the others run into him on one, and he doesn't know they're there. Someone is flirting really hard, and Booker is very uncomfortable. How would Joe and Nicky respond?

Contains: Non-Consensual Groping, Genital Groping, Harrassment (idk I am covering my bases here)

--

He does not flinch when she forcefully cups her slender hand around his crotch and gropes him with a smile. Internally, Booker had had enough of her dogged pursuit of him from the moment he walked into the party and she had slithered up to him in her Versace dress and her too strong perfume, refusing to leave him alone even though he can clearly tell that she was with her husband tonight and that he really would prefer not to end it with his throat slashed in the back alleyway.

Booker is calculating the three ways he can remove himself from this situation without making a scene when a familiar shadow falls over from behind him.

“Madam, please kindly remove your hand from our husband’s cock,” Nicky’s voice rolls over in an octave that spoke of smoky seduction when it really was a two-step warning from him putting a bullet in your eye.

Booker shivers when he feels Joe place a hand on his shoulder. He can only fix his eyes on her as she snatches her hand away like it had just been burnt. 

Because of fucking course that bastard Copley would have sent him into the fray to run a follow-up job on the same one that his exes were running. 

“You didn’t say anything,” She laughs airily in that specific way that people get when they’re busy trying to dig themselves out of a hole. Her gaze rakes over Joe, then Nicky, before she hums. “Perhaps we can come to an agreement, gentlemen? I only want one night with your... Husband? You could watch us. I don’t mind.”

“Perhaps we weren’t clear enough, Madam,” Joe says, taking a step forward.  “Please kindly remove yourself from our husband’s vicinity.” He grins, leaning in to press his cheek to hers. Booker has to strain to hear the next part. “Or your little indiscretion with, ah, the Minister’s wife might be just the ticket to finally seal that deal on your divorce, yes?”

She jumps. Standing almost immediately with fear written into every line on her face. “Who the fuck are you people?”

“The type of people you really do not want to mess with,” Joe smiles genially, taking her hand and ushering her away.

Booker releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Turning, he takes a good look at Nicky. “I could’ve handled it.”

“I know,” Nicky shrugs, Joe’s necklace shifting on his throat in the light of the bar. For a brief second, he misses the weight of his own on his skin. “But we couldn’t stand by and do nothing, could we?”

“Typical,” Booker snorts, lifting his whiskey for a drink only to have Nicky’s hand shoot out to stop him. He eyes him, then back at the drink. “Really?” He lifts it up, sniffing it. “Ah, fuck.”

“I’m sure you would’ve been fine, Book.”

He scoffs. Swiftly divesting a passing waitress of two fresh drinks, he downs the first one. Savouring the fruity way it washes over his tongue. “Why the fuck are you here anyway?”

Joe sidles back up to their side, snatching the second drink from him and knocking it back. “Same reason as you, I think. Take out the drug lord in the back room and the immediate five persons in the line of succession.”

“Nope,” Booker pops the P. Flipping himself around on the stool, he turns his gaze back over the party. “I’m here to steal the documents in the safe after you’ve killed the immediate five persons in the line of succession. There’s enough blackmail material in there to buy three nations out simultaneously.”

“Wow.”

Booker smiles tightly. “Nice to know you guys still have such a high opinion of me. Really. It warms me right to my toes.” He scans the edges of the room for the men he had clocked as armed. “And what’s with the whole husbands bullshit? We’re divorced. Stop saying it like we aren’t.”

Joe grabs him by the collar then and hauls him bodily against the bar, caging him in with his body while Nicky covers the other side. Pressed this close, Booker can smell his own cologne on Joe’s skin and fuck, if that doesn’t bring back some memories he would rather not think about right now. 

“We are not divorced. Stop acting like we are,” Joe says easily, hand clasped on the back of his neck, gripping tight. “We’re just going through a patch.”

Booker really wants to laugh at that and would have, had Nicky not thrust his hand under his jaw, pushing his head up for him to lean in with a deep and possessive kiss. When they part, Booker heart races with the heady cocktail of arousal and annoyance because fuck this shit, how was he going to last 100 years being constantly reminded of what was at the end of it if he survives? 

“You are ours, Sebastien. For always,” Joe whispers, biting on his earlobe. The ebb and flow of his heart sings to reach out for them. He stubbornly keeps his hands firmly on the bartop. He flicks his eyes to where the armed men were and clears his throat, pulling away from Nicky’s lips.

“You have about fifteen minutes,” He says, moving to shoulder pass them. “Do it and get out. I will need at least 3 before the cops get here.”

Joe grips him by the wrist, halting his escape. Carefully, he turns Booker’s hand over, lifting it up to brush his lips over his knuckles. Nicky mirrors him with his other hand, both men watching him intently. He holds their gaze. And then pulls his hands back. 

Cutting through the room, he takes out a bag of his tools from the third potted plant before the men’s rooms. Chancing a look back, he is relieved and disappointed to see that they’re no longer there.