#MM WAITER MORE BLOOD PLEASE

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [11] - Arrogance

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Engagement period is supposed to be romantic.

Word Count: 3300

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, drinking. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

For the next couple of days, you barely had any time for yourself. It wasn’t as if you were naive enough to believe planning a wedding would be relaxing, but this?

This was something else.

“Can I just let you handle the whole thing?” you asked your wedding planner on the phone, leaning back on your seat while you kept your eyes on the people in the café and she let out a laugh.

“I mean don’t get me wrong, I appreciate your trust in me,” she said. “But you still need to choose among the things I send you, otherwise it’ll be like it's my wedding.”

“I don’t know, you strike me as a person who has good taste,” you said. “I might not be completely opposed to that idea.”

“Thanks but I already planned and had my wedding.”

“Right!” you said, snapping your fingers. “You said you were married to a professor, right?”

“Mm hm.”

“Was there like an open floor for discussions on your wedding?”

“Nah, more like an open bar,” she said. “And don’t try to distract me, my assistant sent you like one hundred emails.”

“I know, I know…” you muttered. “At least I decided on the place.”

“Yeah one down, ninety-nine to go,” she said. “Barnes weekend residence. We’re going there tomorrow right?”

“Yeah at 2 o’clock, it’s already on my calendar.”

“Great,” she said. “Answer my emails by then, please?”

“I will, talk to you later!” you said as you saw Ethan walk into the café and you waved at him after hanging up.

“Hey!” he said, coming to hug you when you stood up from your seat. “It’s been a while!”

“Hey yourself,” you said and pulled back from the hug to smile at him, then sat down when he did. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve been busy.”

“So I figured,” he said after ordering a coffee to the waiter who approached your table to take his order and you sat up straighter.

“How about you?” you said. “How is everything at the company?”

“Also pretty chaotic,” he said with a small smile. “I’ve been working overtime, a lot.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah!” he said. “Yeah it’s just…it’s a really big company that wants things done in a certain way.”

“Do you want me to send someone around so that they can talk to your boss?”

His eyes widened.

“I—you—” he stammered. “I’m— I’m honored but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” you asked, tilting your head. “If they’re giving you a hard time, it’s only fair if they have a hard time as well.”

He stared at you as the waiter put the cup of coffee in front of him, and then he cleared his throat.

“I’ll never get used to your lifestyle I think.”

“That’s a good thing,” you said with a small smile. “Please don’t.”

“So how about you?” he asked. “What have you been up to?”

You blinked a couple of times, nervousness churning your stomach before you took a sip of your coffee.

“That’s actually why I asked you here,” you muttered. “And I—I know it’s going to sound a bit rushed, but um…”  

He pulled his brows together, his whole attention on you.

“What is it?” he asked and you swallowed thickly, then tried to smile.

“I’m getting married.”

He gawked at you for a couple of seconds in complete silence as if he wasn’t sure if he had heard you right while you just sat there, nibbling on your lip.

“You…you what?” he asked when he could pull himself together and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Getting married,” you said. “In a month, actually.”

“I wasn’t aware you were in a relationship—”

“I wasn’t,” you cut him off and a look of realization dawned on his face, making him pull back slightly.

“This is what we talked about all those years ago, isn’t it?” he asked. “Back at college. I asked you numerous times and you said no but in your world—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted him again. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You can say no,” he insisted and you sipped your coffee, reminding yourself to not let anything show on your face.

“What makes you think I want to say no?”

“You want to get married?” he asked with a dry laugh. “And to whom, if you don’t mind me ask?”

“Bucky Barnes.”

Ethan blinked a couple of times.

“…Bucky Barnes as in the guy you hate?”

“Things change,” you said calmly and he scoffed.

“Do they?” he asked. “So it’s a love marriage? Nothing to do with your family business?”

“To repeat, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Your world—”

“Ethan, I don’t mean to be rude,” you said through your teeth. “But if you genuinely believe that you know anything about my world, you’re fooling yourself.”

He pressed his lips together, then took a deep breath and pushed his chair back, your bodyguards sitting up straighter as if on cue but you held up a hand, gesturing at them to sit still. Ethan looked between you and the bodyguards, then let out a somber chuckle and put some cash on the table.

“For the coffee,” he said and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Ethan…”

“If they’re forcing you to do this—”

“Nobody is forcing me,” you told him, looking him in the eye and he nodded his head slowly.

“Then I guess congratulations on the wedding,” he said with a sad smile. “I’m not going to pretend I know anything about your world Y/N, I’m just…I’m just wondering what happened to the girl who told me she’d only marry for love, that’s all.”

With that, he walked out of the café and you gritted your teeth, then pressed your palms on your eyes, slouching in your chair.

“I killed her I guess,” you muttered to yourself and lowered your hands. “Occupational hazard and all.”

                                                 *

As you knocked on the door to Becca’s apartment, you could swear your head was about to explode from the headache pounding in your temples. You heaved a sigh and rubbed at your eyes, then heard the footsteps before the door opened.

“Oh hi Y/N!” Leila said. “It's great to see you, I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Sorry to bother you,” you said, offering her a smile. “Is this a bad time?”

“Not at all, come in!”

“Is Becca here?”

“Yeah!” she said as she stepped aside so that you could go in. “We were just watching—um, are you okay?”

“Not exactly,” you grumbled and made your way to the living room to see Becca sitting on the couch with the remote in her hand.

“Hey, I didn’t know—” she started but stopped talking when you flung yourself on the other couch across from hers, letting out a groan. You could hear Leila entering the living room as well and you raised your head from the pillow with a sigh.

“Do either of you have a painkiller?”

“Oh yeah, let me get it for you,” Leila said and rushed to the kitchen while you pulled yourself up into a sitting position, then hugged a pillow over your stomach.

“What’s going on?” Becca asked and you huffed out.

“Terrible day. Do you want to go out for drinks?”

“I’d love to but I have plans,” she said apologetically. “I’ll go out in like an hour.”

“What plans?”

“Uh…therapy,” she answered as Leila came back to the living room holding a glass of water and a pill.

“Thank you so much,” you said as you took them from her and she smiled at you, then went to sit beside Becca after you swallowed the pill and put the glass on the small coffee table.

“So?” Becca said. “What happened? Is it Bucky?”

“For once, nope.”

“Congratulations on the engagement by the way!” Leila said. “To be honest, I could kind of tell something was there even when you two kept arguing that night.”

You raised your brows and stole a look at Becca who shrugged her shoulders subtly. It wasn’t that you thought she would say anything to anyone about the real reason why you and Bucky were getting married, but she had fallen so head over heels in love with Leila that it took you by surprise that she hadn’t told her either.

But on a second thought, you knew you shouldn’t have been surprised. Not only would you trust Becca with your life, but Becca was also raised with the same rules as you and Bucky were, and secrets were almost sacred in your world.

“Thanks,” you said with a small smile. “It’s a bit rushed but when you know you know.”

“That’s so true,” Leila said, holding Becca’s hand and a cute blush spread over Becca’s cheeks, making you smile despite the headache.

“So it’s not Bucky then?” Becca asked and you massaged your temples.

“Ethan.”

“Oh I liked Ethan—” Leila started, but stopped when she saw the look on your face. “Or you know, I could also hate him if we hate him now, I don’t mind.”

“No no,” you said. “He’s sweet but um…I told him the news about the wedding and he understandably did not like it.”

“You two weren’t together though?”

“Eh, there was still something,” Becca said. “He likes you, a lot.”

“He thinks I’m being forced into this,” you said and Becca shot you a smile.

“As if anyone could force you into marrying my brother.”

“I mean it’s not the nineteenth century,” Leila pointed out and Becca let out a laugh.

“So, how heartbroken was he?”

“I wouldn’t say he was heartbroken,” you muttered. “Just angry I guess. And I get it, I haven’t been completely honest with him—” You were cut off when your phone started vibrating and you took a look at the screen, then pushed yourself off the couch.

“I’ll be right back,” you said and walked to Becca’s bedroom, then took the phone to your ear.

“Yeah?”

“Hey beautiful,” Bucky’s voice reached you and you sat down on Becca’s bed, fully aware that you were pouting your lips.

“Hey.”

“How’s your day going?”

“Meh,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “What is it?”

“I just called to let you know we have a dinner reservation tonight,” he said. “I’ll pick you up from the hotel around 8?”

You made a face. “Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t like your presence any more than you like mine,” you stated. “And it’ll be harder for me to ignore you in a restaurant if it’s just the two of us having dinner.”

“I mean, you do realize you don’t have to ignore me—”

“I know I don’t have to, it’s more of a hobby,” you said. “So? Why are you taking me out to dinner?”

“Because if we want people to believe it’s a love marriage rather than what it actually is, we need to be seen outside as a couple,” he said and you heaved a sigh, then ran a hand over your face.

“Right.”

“So then—”

“Yeah you can pick me up at 8,” you said and he paused for a second.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “You sound a bit…”

“Yeah I’m fine,” you said in a rush. “It’s just you know, this whole marriage thing—I’m fine. I’m great.”

“Very convincing,” he deadpanned and you scoffed a laugh.

“Just pick a nice restaurant, will you?” you asked and hung up before he could retort, then huffed out and got up from the bed to walk back to the living room to see Leila walking to the kitchen.

“So Becca has stuff to do but I figured we could drink and watch trash TV if you’d like?” she asked as soon as she saw you. “I can make mimosas.”

You blinked a couple of times and nodded fervently.

“That’d be great!” you said and she gave you a happy smile, then entered the kitchen. You smiled to yourself, then flung yourself next to Becca.

“I’ve changed my mind,” you said and Becca tilted her head.

“About what?”

“About what I said earlier,” you said. “You totally should propose and marry her, she’s amazing.”

                                           *

Even you had to admit, the restaurants in Bucky’s territory were better than the ones in your father’s territory.

It was rather annoying but considering your house with him would of course be in his territory, at least you already knew you would get good food whenever you two went out for dinner. Bucky’s palm was warm on the small of your back and if it were any other time you would have slipped out of his grasp but you let him guide you to the restaurant.

“Mr. Barnes, it’s an honor,” A man greeted you two by the entrance. “Your table is ready, please follow me.”

 You looked around the luxurious interior as you and Bucky made your way to your table, and a waiter pulled your chair for you to sit down. You took a quick look at the menu before ordering and Bucky just asked for his usual, and you watched the waiter walk away with the man.

“I don’t think I’ve been here before,” you told Bucky. “When did it open?”

“Around a year ago,” he said. “I like it here, it’s…private, mostly.”

You hummed while the waiter filled your glass with wine and you took a sip, enjoying the nice taste.

“So my dad called while I was getting ready,” you said. “Apparently he will talk to Stark sometime this week.”

“I have a pretty good guess about how that will go,” Bucky muttered and you bit inside your cheek.

“You think Stark will make things difficult?”

“I mean he’s not going to like it because two families uniting means a tremendous power in the city,” Bucky stated. “Let’s see how he reacts and plan accordingly.”

“Might have to sweettalk him,” you said. “Gift him a shipment or two. And Romanoff?”

“I’m meeting her tomorrow,” he said. “Steve will be there too, they’re old friends. Any stupid comments from Ian lately?”

“Nope. By the way I was going to ask you but I forgot—that night, when you and Ian were talking,” you said. “What did he tell you?”

Bucky scoffed before taking a sip of his wine.

“He was saying that you wanted to be an active player in the business,” he said with a small smile. “Just in case I didn’t know.”

You rolled your eyes. “Idiot.”

“But I don’t think he suspects anything.”

“No, he thinks the same as my dad,” you said with a dry laugh. “I get married and pop out a few babies and become a fucking Stepford Wife.”

Bucky shot you a grin, then his head shot up.

“Oh I almost forgot,” he said and took out a small velvet box out of his pocket, then put it on the table. You arched a brow.

“Is that the ring?”

“Yeah.”

“Nah you can take it back,” you said after sipping your wine. “I’ll go and check some jewelers tomorrow and get something pretty, they can send you the bill.”

He pulled his brows together. “You didn’t even look at it.”

“I don’t need to, I’ve seen the women you dated,” you pointed out. “Something tells me they didn’t educate you well about jewelry so there’s no need for—”

You stopped talking when he reached out to open the small box for you and your eyes fell upon the ring, the rest of your sentence getting stuck in your throat. The pear-shaped diamond on the delicate rose gold band was so pretty that for a couple of seconds you could only stare at it while it glimmered under the dim light of the restaurant, almost hypnotizing you before you remembered to pull yourself together.

It was definitely to your taste, as if…

“Becca helped you,” you managed to say as you reached out to take it into your hand and he nodded.

“Mm hm. Today.”

“Well played.”

Bucky gave you a proud smile, his piercing blue gaze almost too hot on your skin and you slipped the ring onto your finger, then held up your hand so that you could look at it better.

“It’s pretty,” you said. “I’m keeping it in the divorce by the way.”

He clutched as his chest. “Don’t be so romantic Charm, I’m going to get emotional.”

That made a laugh spill from your lips while the waiter brought your food, and you thanked him while Bucky leaned forward on his elbows as if he wasn’t even aware of anything else but you.

“Can I ask you something?”

“No.”

“How did you use to imagine it?”

You looked at him. “Imagine what?”

“Your engagement period, your wedding, you name it,” he said and you hummed, then leaned back.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Maybe we can make the wedding the way you pictured it,” he said and you scoffed a laugh.

“I doubt it,” you said. “When I pictured my wedding, I always pictured myself in love. There was this fairytale wedding, gorgeous wedding gown, we’d go to Paris for the honeymoon and he’d be reciting poetry about how much he was in love with me in bed.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times and cleared his throat.

“I’m not good with poetry.”

“Never thought you were,” you said. “Eh, maybe my second marriage will go the way I pictured it.”

That caused a shadow to cross his eyes but he recovered fast, sipping his drink.

“How about you?” you asked. “How did you use to imagine your second marriage?”

He tilted his head. “What happened to my first marriage?”

“I’m glad you asked,” you said, pointing at him with your fork. “Funny story. You knocked her up and you guys decided to keep it because you got emotional and it would be your first heir, so you two ended up getting married in a rush and named that baby your actual heir.”

An amused smile curled his lips. “Interesting. Go on.”

“But after the baby, that marriage turned into one full of resentment and then you decided it was a good idea to fuck your secretary.”

“So I live in a porn scenario?” he asked and you nodded.

“Pretty much. Then your wife left you, took away all your things—”

“I don’t have a prenup?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“Impossible.”

“You don’t exactly have a prenup with me.”

He winked at you. “Maybe I trust you.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” you retorted, making him chuckle. “But yeah, your first wife divorced you. Sorry you had to find out this way.”

“It was good while it lasted, I’m sure.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure, she hates you,” you said airily. “Rightfully, that is. Then you meet your second wife who definitely deserves better than you, but by some miracle she stays with you.”

“Thanks a lot, she sounds amazing.”

“Right?” you said. “There you go. Your two marriages.”

“Very creative,” he pointed out. “Do I recite poetry to her in this scenario?”

“Yes but you also have performance problems so romance makes up for it, in a way,” you stated and he smirked.

“You seem to put a lot of thought into my performance, pillow princess.”

Your jaw dropped as you gasped. “Wh—how dare—you don’t even—”

“Please,” he said. “You dream of a guy reciting poetry to you on your honeymoon.”

You could feel your cheeks burning as you glared daggers at him.

“Shut up,” you grumbled, making him smirk.

“That being said, you have nothing to worry about my performance.”

You rolled your eyes at him while you chewed on your bite, then swallowed it.

“See Bucky, this is exactly why when I divorce you, I’m keeping the ring and the weekend house,” you pointed at him with your fork, coaxing a chuckle out of him. “You’re too arrogant for your own good.”

Chapter 12

[seijorhi]

SHAKE

Choso x female reader

a Valentine’s Day Collab

tw: murder, blood, dismemberment, stalking, yandere themes

The message from your friend said you’d be wearing a red dress. Choso counts four women, all wearing varying shades of red, three of those being dresses. Fitting, he supposes, considering this human holiday of yours.

Ultimately, the descriptor is unnecessary. Choso could pick your face in any crowd.

You glance up at his arrival, that expression – that hesitant, hopeful smile – searing its way through him. It falters, slightly, when you get a good look at him, and your lips part. “Oh– Sorry, I’m waiting for someone and I thought you were–”

He cuts you off by speaking your name, a short smile of his own to put you at ease. You’re not quick enough to completely mask the confusion that flashes across your face, but to your credit, you do try.

“Ah, you must be Jin, right? Sorry, I– my friend said you’d be–”

“Choso,” he corrects.

“P-pardon?”

He pulls out the seat across from yours. Sits. “My name is Choso. It’s good to meet you, I’ve been looking forward to this for a while.” 

You blink at him, the words clearly taking a moment or two to process. He doesn’t blame you for the hesitance, for your confusion – no doubt his name, his appearance, the cursed nature of his spirit that’ll never truly feel right to you, it all goes against the image you’ve created in your head, perhaps even what your friend told you to expect.

But Choso’s come to know you better than you know yourself. Those gears tick over behind your eyes, your mouth opening and closing, you flounder for words and then–

“You’re… my blind date? Mikako said…” you swallow, shaking the thought free. “I must’ve gotten mixed up, I’m sorry.”

Choso’s lips quirk upwards. That’s four times now you’ve apologised. 

“You look beautiful.”

Your smile warms a touch with the compliment, and Choso treasures the sight. “Thank you. So, um… you work with Mikako? In accounts?”

“Mm.”

The waiter comes by with a wine list, and the menu’s already set – Choso pays it no mind. He cares no more about the food than he does the odd looks from the couples seated around you. 

Which, judging from the slightly forced nature of your expression, cannot be said for you.

“So um, Choso,” you draw out the syllables of his name, “tell me about yourself. Mikako mentioned that you’re into photography?”

Photography, huh? No. His ‘hobbies’ as such are not so mundane, and definitely not dinner time conversation. 

He could tell you about his desire to slaughter the sorcerer who delighted in toying with his human mother and tried to manipulate him into killing his younger brother. He could tell you about his cursed techniques, and the blood mark that extends across the bridge of his nose – the one you’re trying valiantly not to look at – and what it does. 

Choso could tell you that aside from the world of curses and jujutsu sorcerers, he spends his time consumed by thoughts of you, and with every moment he can spare, he keeps you safe, watching, following from a distance. It’s how he knew of this date of yours, where you were meeting, what you’d be wearing. Who you were supposed to be meeting with. 

He could tell you what he did to the man, this… Jin. How dispatching him quickly was a mercy, yet Choso couldn’t quite bring himself to make it painless. 

“Please– please! Whatever you want– you can take my wallet, you-you want my watch? Take it, it’s yours!”

He’s shaking, clumsy fingers fumbling for the gold strap as Choso advances. The blood that oozes from the self inflicted wound glides through the air, spinning into razor-sharp discs that circle his hand. 

“Please, what do you want?!” the man begs, the front of his pants darkening, pissing himself in fear. 

Choso could make this clean. He could make it quick. The grudge he holds with the human is not a personal one – he’s simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

…  Interested in dating the wrong woman.

Choso’s resolve hardens. 

The first blood chakram severs his right arm.

The second rips through his thigh. He’ll bleed out before any help can come. 

A third forms around his fingers. He keeps it there for a heartbeat, listening as the man chokes and gurgles, the pitiful whimpering as blood drains from his body.

Choso sends it slicing through the man’s throat. 

He could tell you these things, but he doubts you’d appreciate them. Instead, he shrugs, “I’d rather hear about you.”

“Oh, there’s not really much to tell, I’m kind of boring,” you laugh.

Choso begs to disagree.

Despite that, he lets you talk, tell him things about you he already knows. The wine comes, and then entrees. You eat and carry the conversation, more out of discomfort, he thinks, than any genuine desire to share.

That’s okay, he’ll take what he can get. With you, Choso wants to be greedy.

And then your purse vibrates. 

You wait a few minutes, thinking you’re being subtle and shoot him an apologetic smile as you slip it from the back of your seat and onto your arm, “Bathroom,” you say.

But it’s when you return, your fragile, human heart racing like a hummingbird’s, and that strained smile is altogether gone that he knows this little game of his is up. 

“I’m sorry, my uh… there’s an issue with my apartment, I’ve– I’ve got to go, but it was nice meeting you, really.”

You truly are a terrible liar. 

His hand snaps out to seize your wrist before you can so much as turn. 

“You should stay,” he tells you, exerting just a fraction of his considerable strength when you attempt to tug it free. Your eyes go wide, an instinctual sort of fear taking hold as cursed energy all but bleeds from his person. 

Blind to it you may be, it poisons the air around you.

“We aren’t finished with our date yet.”

[morgansunflower]

Unconditional

Barry Allen X Wife-Reader!

Wally West X Aunt-Reader!

Young Justice Universe. Barry Allen and his wife Y/N try to grasp becoming parent's to not one but two little babies. As well as opening their arm's and home to a very deserving and hurt 15 year old.

Wally West is Y/N's nephew by blood and Iris doesn't exist. Wally's mom died when he was little.

Warnings : child neglect, child abuse, alcoholic addiction.

Barry and I went out for a date to celebrate our one year anniversary. We sat in a restaurant on the chairs. We rented the room just so it would be the two of us. The waiter brought a wine bottle. Barry held the bottle as the waiter left. He opened it and moved to pour some in my glass

"I'm not drinking"

His face unreadable he placed the bottle on the table. Shouldn't he be surprised? Shocked? Worried? Happy? Anything? I feel my heart beating fast. Does he want a baby? We've only been married a year and I'm already pregnant. I've known Barry my whole life.

"say what?" his voice soft he clears his throat

"Barry, do I need to spell it out for you. Aren't you supposed to be smart" I joke but my tone is obviously irritated

"I'm gonna be a Dad?"

I put my elbow on the table and lean my head on my face "yeah, Barry pretty sure the doctor wasn't lying and the fact I missed my period. You know like we had sex and unknowingly made a baby"

"yeah I know I just can't believe you're pregnant. I'm going to be a Dad!" he smiled and laughed the weight of worry upon me melts into a smile "we're gonna have a baby"

"we're having a baby I know it's a lot to take in right now and tonight is supposed to be about us"

"are you kidding this is the best news I've ever had! We're gonna have a baby!"

"let me know when you're back to earth" I joked

He leaned to me and kissed me, he cupped my cheeks "how far a long are you? When do I get to see the little speedster? Is it too early to know the gender? No fun time tonight I guess" he swiftly said and chuckled, leaning back in his chair, he snapped his fingers "the guest room would make a perfect nursery!"

I smiled softly to my husband "I'm glad you're happy"

"I'm beyond that I'm--" he kissed me "I'm absolutely overwhelmed with excitement! A cute little baby speedster! I can't wait to tell everyone!"

"now old on there speedster I'm not in my second trimester. 2 weeks then we can tell them ok?"

"ok Aww honey I can't wait to see our little baby"

"well I do have good news tomorrow is my first appointment with the doctor"

"I'll be there in a flash, I wonder if the baby will have my speed. Speaking of speed this baby is going to need some enhanced prenatal vitamins that can help with the baby's fast metabolism" he takes a deep breath "sorry I'm talking too much I'm just happy really happy"

I chuckle "it's cute" I held his hand

"now that I know I knocked you up you definitely look it"

"are you calling me fat!" I asked appalled

"of course not! Absolutely not" he swiftly assured me, he raises his eyebrows smirking "you're hot, I'm really really looking forward to this pregnancy"

"oh, really?" I questioned smiling

"hmm mm"

Thinking of being a mother to one baby is something I was trying to comprehend. I was starting to, until the doctor told me there wasn't only one baby growing inside me, there are two. As my second trimester came Barry practically told every person we knew before I even could speak the two word's. Late in the night I laid on my side Barry's stomach leaned up against my back.....

"what?! Is he OK?" I worriedly hear my husband say

I move onto my back I see Barry sitting up and the lamp on his nightstand on. His right hand gripping his hair and left rubbing his neck. I see his intercom in his ear

"Barry? What's wrong, baby?"

"it's, Dinah she said Wally had passed out at the cave" my heart drops "and is in the Med-bay he's conscious but their monitoring his vitals. I need to go"

"w--" before I could finish Barry was already gone

I sigh in defeat of course he runs before I can finish my sentence.

Barry's P. O. V

Wally, had electrodes on his bare chest for the heart monitor and a IV in his arm. He ate his sandwich I made him. I haven't asked him what happened yet. Right now I just want him to take care of himself. Oh right I need to call my wife! I can't imagine how worried she is!

"I'm going to call your aunt Y/N you finish up your sandwich and then get some rest"

"oh please I'm fine Barry nothin' a little food can't fix, right?"

"you are staying right there or so help me I will cuff you to my hand"

"you do realize I could faze through the cuffs"

"you do realize my friend captain cold is at times very negotiable and I'm certain if he knew it meant your safety he'd freeze your feet together"

Wally, rolled his eye's I called my wife on my intercom. She answered I hear her crying, my heart breaking knowing I can't be right there to comfort her without leaving Wally.

"hey, baby Wally's OK I've got eye's on him right now"

-"oh, good you scared me running off. What happened?" she sniffed

"I haven't asked him yet but we'll get to the bottom of this I promise"

Wally, finished his sandwich he put his hands on the edge of the stretcher gripping it. He avoided eye contact with me.

-"Barry, there's something you need to know" her tone seriously worrying me

"what is it?"

-"Rudolph, just called me and asked for bail money. He's been in jail for 4 months. The fine is 900$ but then the asshole had the nerve to ask for more money and refused to tell me why"

My heart drops "oh, honey I'm so sorry"

-"it's not your fault my brother's messed up. I don't know what Wally knows but.... How do you feel about letting Wally stay with us? I know we're still figuring out the twins and all"

-"honestly, yeah I'm all in let me talk to the kid and we'll be home soon"

-"ok, I love you and tell Wally I love him"

"I love you too baby I'll let him know"

She hung up I look at, Wally his eye's staring at the foor. It hurts to see him so upset. He doesn't deserve this, no one deserves to go through what he is.

"your aunt said she loves you" I pause for a moment "Wally do you know where your dad is?"

"don't play stupid with me Barry I heard Y/N on the other end of the phone"

"Wally--" he cut me off

"don't pity me, Barry. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself. I don't need or want you or Y/N to look after me"

I know what he's saying isn't true I know he really loves me and Y/N. Though right now he's hurting and the one person who should be here to take away his pain isn't here.

"you got it wrong kid. We were actually we're the one's who need you. You're aunt is pregnant with twin's. She needs help around the house when I'm not home. I'm still trying to grasp the fact I'm going to be a dad. I was hoping you could help us out and tell me when I've messed up"

Wally, swallows his eye's swell and nodded. He started crying my heart drops to my gut. I hugged him. I always loved Wally as if he was my own son.

Y/N's P. O. V

I hear the door open I quickly walk to the entrance of the house. I see, Barry and Wally. I touch Wally's cheek his eye's watering  I hugged him. My tears start to fall I sniff and kiss his face. I cup his tearful cheeks. My heart breaks.

"oh, Wally sweetheart you can tell me anything it doesn't matter the circumstances or who"

He stutters "I know but it's your brother, I just didn't, I didn't"

I kiss his head and hold him in my arm's "shh it's OK Wally you're safe with us, I promise"

[sonar-taxlaw]

crime au collins & kath + pressure?

There sure is blood, injury, and treatment of injury in this! None of it is especially graphic.

Kath and Collins are professionals and that means that when Collins goes down, Kath finishes the job before crouching down next to xyr partner.

"How bad is it?" Collins has a hand pressed against their leg and blood between their fingers. "If only, my dear Kath, that was a simple question to answer." There's a pained tension to Collins' voice but that's never been enough to get them to say less. "I would say that this is not the most pleasant experience I have had in my expansive life." Kath makes a "mm" sound and takes off nir jacket. Carefully ze eases Collins' hand off of the wound before pressing aer jacket against Collins' leg. Collins jerks under the pressure but doesn't try and move away. "I've--always said you have a doctor's gentle touch," Collins says but there's too much gasp in their words. "Hold." He puts both of Collins' hands over the wound and goes to search the room for anything that could be considered sterile.

Collins is still talking behind vis which is a good sign. As long as Collins is talking nothing's gone too wrong. Kath mostly tunes it out, listening enough so ze can chime in if need be but mostly just finding some comfort in that Collins is still speaking.

"If our life of crime ever comes to its close I'm certain you could find a place in any number of reputable hospitals with your field experience. You would have to forge documents, of course, but that's such a minor thing in comparison to the premeditated murders. Practicing medicine without a license is hardly a crime in my book."

Kath searches the bodies of the Moab syndicate members on the floor and comes up with nothing useful besides a multitool ze pockets just in case.

"Of course, there are more delicate skills you may need more practice in and while I would offer myself as a subject to your skilled hands, the recovery time would be an impediment to our important work together." "Could work in Doyle's back room." "Oh, she would detest that. Bringing more trouble to her bar? Heaven forbid. No guns, no business--" "Remember to tip your waiters," the two say in sync.

Kath finds a dusty first aid kit in the back of the room and pops it open. The band aids are gone but gauze and medical tape are all that ve really needs. When ind comes back to Collins, Collins has their head leaned back against the wall, eyes squeezed closed and hands limp over cos jacket.

"Told you to hold." Kath sits down next to Collins and peels vis now blood soaked jacket. "Hold! Hurt him not, for god's sake." Collins is using the tone of voice they pull when they're quoting something.

There's a pause while Kath wraps gauze tight around the wound and one of Collins' hands comes to grasp zer shoulder to keep from flinching away. It's not a great job but it'll hold until the two of them can get somewhere safer with more light and the proper kit they've got in the back of the car.

"Not even a guess, Kath?" Collins' voice is still tight with pain but they're talking, they're still talking. "Mm. Give me a hint." "Shakespeare." "Fuck off. Bad hint." "You made no requests as to the quality of my hint. If you wished for a good hint then you should have specified in your request. As it is, you have been granted a hint." Kath lets out a deep sigh and packs some more gauze against the wound. "From a play or a sonnet?" "A--gentle, please--a play." "Gentle doesn't keep you alive, Collins." Kath tapes the gauze down with what feels like half the roll of medical tape while trying to remember the name of any Shakespeare play. "The Tempest." "If you're going to guess at least make a good one, Kath." "Comedy or tragedy?" Kath packs the kit back up and helps Collins upright. Collins leans heavily against xyr side, trying to not put any weight on the injured leg. "This would be a comedy." "Twelfth Night." Collins heaves a sigh. "You always guess Twelfth Night and it has never once been Twelfth Night. I thought maybe perhaps you had learned but alas." Ze sighs deeply as ne pushes the door open and cold, clean air hits both of them. One of them is going to have to call in a favor to get the warehouse cleaned up. "I give up." "A tragedy indeed for you to balk at the task! My faith in you has been again shattered to pieces." "Just tell me, Collins." "The Comedy of Errors, of course. The last act, the last scene, where it all falls apart and then into place." Kath helps Collins get settled in the back seat, lying down with the injured leg up. "Don't fall in the footwell while I'm driving." "Drive carefully and we will not have to consider that possibility!" Ne barely stifles a laugh and gets in the drivers seat.

[star-killer-md]

Dream A little Dream of Me Pt. 7

Welp. It’s been uh, a long fucking time. My only excuse is college is hard and also I’m lazy. Anyway, here she be. Thank you to everyone who continues to read this cause I need it to exit my brain and it’s incredibly nice to not just like, scream Kylo porn into the void. 

I hope y’all enjoy and feel free to leave me a comment or reblog or dm if you are so inclined. 

AO3 mirror

Part 8

Warnings: Inappropriate use of the Force, Force sex, angst, nsfw, y’all know the drill

Summary: In which answers are found. 

Ship: Kylo Ren x Negotiator!Reader

Word Count: 6.6k

The room smelled too sweet, the kind that lodged under your tongue and ached in your jaw. It made you long for the silence of your seaside room, made you strangely thankful that Kylo Ren often never filled it. But only for a minute. Because thinking of him reminded you of how you’d woken to an empty bed and cold, damp sheets and that you were certainly not thankful for. 

Meanwhile, Lem Alba seemed intrinsically compelled to do exactly the opposite. 

In fact, once he’d guessed you wouldn’t chew his head off every time he opened his mouth, it never closed again. You weren’t entirely sure if this annoyed or pleased you. But when Lem came to your door and invited you to brunch before all campaign staff were carted off back to the Federal District, you agreed. 

If only to avoid being left alone with your thoughts. 

“Not to grandstand,” Lem babbled between sips of his drink, “but I often feel some of my skills are wasted working just as a personal aide.” 

You glanced up from your plate and nodded, “I think most people in this profession tend to believe that. We’re all a bit insatiable.” 

He chuckled, soft voice melding perfectly with the chatter and bustle of the surrounding tables. You couldn’t help but think that Lem fit in well here, as much as he tried to deny it. His edges blended seamlessly with the velvet and silk background. It reminded you of when he’d plucked you right out of the crowd your first night here. 

“You First Order people have a way about you. Something in the way you stand a bit too straight.”

Something in the way you’re always waiting for the ball to drop. 

“Yes well, I’m not gunning for a power grab,” Lem sighed and rolled his eyes. 

He looked very much like a scorned child and you felt a twinge of remorse, “No, I didn’t think you were.” 

“It’s alright,” he ran a hand through his neat hair and stared at you over the rim of his glass, “I just get so bored of it all sometimes.”

“Mm, me too,” you said around a bite of some extravagant concoction that dripped embarrassingly down your chin. 

You thought of blood and saltwater rolling across your skin and quickly wiped it away with a napkin. 

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought that would be an issue for someone in your position.”

You had to try very hard not to scoff out loud, settling for a disbelieving raise of your eyebrows. Piles of paperwork taller than the Commander filled your head, glowering officers and incessant incident reports—your life nothing more than a series of other people's mistakes that somehow became your fault. Grey walls and meetings that never ended. 

Come to think of it, you’d been bored and tired and frustrated your whole life it seemed. Although, not so much anymore. Still just as exhausted and angry, but less like a pacing animal in a cage. The thought sat uncomfortably in your stomach as you wondered when exactly that had changed.  

Of course you already knew the answer. 

You always were attracted to things that kept you on your toes. 

“Should we discuss this speech I’m supposed to be giving?” you asked. 

If Lem noticed your less than subtle change in topic, he didn’t show it for which you were grateful. 

“Certainly,” he gestured for you to continue. 

“Well, I’ve had it outlined for quite awhile since the powers that be were oh-so specific about the subject matter,” you began, watching Lem grimace sympathetically. 

“Yes, I believe I’m meant to collect a draft from you by the end of the week.” 

The joints in your shoulders popped when you slumped forward, hanging your head against the weight of far too stringent deadlines.

“I’m well aware,” you sighed. “Normally I wouldn’t be so neglectful of the timeline, I’m just having a hard time...focusing.” 

The barely concealed mark on the curve of your neck throbbed as you recalled the massive, decadently handsome distraction that consistently occupied your workspace. Really, how were you expected to get any quality content produced with that dark, looming shadow always poisoning your mind with questions and completely inappropriate fantasy. 

Currently, your entire body seemed to constrict at the notion that it was no longer strictly a fantasy. Your muscles corded taught, pulling like a ruched seam and tugging painfully at the sinew. It felt almost as if you were a marionette with invisible strings controlled by equally invisible hands that tingled as they jerked you about. You got the distinct sensation that someone was watching you, but resisted the urge to turn and look. 

Lem—completely oblivious to your inner turmoil—perked up and offered you a blindingly white grin full of ramrod straight teeth. 

“I have an office I’m more than willing to loan out if you’d like to make use of it,” he said. 

You considered the idea, chewing on your lip. Maybe getting lost in speech writing would be good, you thought. Something easy, something formulaic would do wonders for taking your mind off, well, everything. 

“As long as you’re offering,” you flashed him a strained smile and went back to shuffling things around your plate. 

Lem continued to spew an endless stream of comfortingly meaningless ramblings and you bathed in the sound of it, looking up occasionally to offer a hum of acknowledgement. You didn’t really care what he was saying—whether it was opinions for opening lines or who you should thank first or what color to wear that he thought would bring out your eyes—but you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a friendly conversation with...anyone. 

So you let him talk, and nodded every once in a while and basked in the normalcy, the mundaneness of the scene. Until, of course, the peace was shattered when your server returned with a new cocktail for Lem, who promptly spilled it all over the table. 

You watched it unfold like the audience of a holodrama: the waiter, tall with an abundance of black curls and long fingers extending the glass, their hands touching for just an instant, the scarlet blush that tinted Lem’s ears when he glanced at the man’s face and stared transfixed even as the drink spilled off the table and onto his slacks. 

It felt very suddenly as if you were seeing something you shouldn’t be. 

But the moment ended quickly and quietly, fizzling out with a whimper as the waiter with all his curly hair frantically mopped up the mess. His voice was low and pleasant when he apologized and rushed off to get another drink mixed. 

For once, you had the urge to participate in the conversation. 

“Who’s that?” you asked, flicking your eyes up briefly and then back down to the wet mark on the table cloth. 

Lem shrugged and fiddled with the stain on his pants, “Nobody.” 

And for once, it seemed, he had nothing else to say on the matter. 

It was truly a challenge to keep the amused smile from splitting your cheeks as Lem so clearly tried and failed not to make a complete fool of himself every time said server returned to clear plates. And when a beautifully decorated fruit tart found its way to your table—decidedly marked as ‘on the house’—you were graced with an extraordinarily toothy, childish smile from your dining companion. 

Your chest ached with it, the display of reality. 

On your first night here, you’d thought Lem looked too much like all the other First Order officers you were forced to work with. Thought his hair was too perfect, his suit too pressed, words too cherry picked. 

But here you were again, getting drawn in by these stupid, simple instances of existence in relation to others. You craved the feeling of fading into the background as Lem stuttered whenever he tried to thank the boy with his curls and warm smile. 

It was strange too, to see that people truly did flush and brush hands and chew their lips and smile so freely. For whatever reason, you’d been under the distinct impression that was an exclusively fictional pursuit, saved for holofilms or storybooks. 

Did those things exist in you? Were there times when you’d fluttered the way Lem did now, cautiously stealing bites of his tart, trying to preserve the delicate design for as long as possible? Or had they atrophied and fallen to dust from disuse, nothing more than a vestigial organ, unnecessary and forgotten—ready to pump your body full of toxins at a moment's notice should it burst. 

And that only raised more questions. How incomplete had you been this whole time? How long had you been ignorant of your deficiency?  

And did it matter?

But that was not something you could ever answer. So, you sat back and watched and listened and breathed it in. 

Appreciated from afar this show of innocenceweakness.

You jolted in your seat, shoulders bunching together as if a hand had grabbed you from behind. The double voice rang out in your head, echoing up like it was shouted from the bottom of some pit inside you. You knew that voice though—would know it anywhere by now.  

It was him, of course it was. 

You could feel Kylo Ren like a shroud, a dampening of the outside world. When you listened closely, you swore you could hear the sound of crashing waves, the crunch of sand under boot heels. The smell of salt and skin and bloody water filled your nose. Your chest was burning, a prison for some roiling, angry creature that flung itself against the steel bars of your ribs.

His ribs.

His heartbeat, a pounding and ruthless tattoo.

His feet already moving in time to the beat, carrying him farther and farther— 

Is it? you shouted back.

The words tore at your throat even as you sat in silence at the table. But no response came, instead the chatter of the dining room returned and Lem tilted his head in concern, standing and gathering you up by the arms. 

He pulled you down the poshly ornamented halls, chattering still but shooting glances down more often with his brows furrowed. You let him lead you, thin arm looped around yours, back towards your quarters to ‘help you pack,’ he said. And you didn’t bother discouraging him. 

You already knew the room would empty. 

***

The meeting had been dragging on for quite nearly an hour already. You were seated at the far end of a comically long table staring off into oblivion, eyes having glazed over nearly ten minutes in when one of the relations staff started going on about color coordinating suits. 

Although, you were not completely tuned out. It was very hard to be when just a few seats away sat the Representative himself with his grotesque excuse for an advisor positioned at his right hand. Fortunately he hadn’t spared you a glance, but it was a challenge not to keep one eye on him at all times—to not consistently feel your calves twitch, ready to bolt through the nearest exit. 

You understood now what it must be like for all those prisoners sitting in the Finalizer’s belly—backed into the final corner, waiting for Kylo Ren to swoop in like a shadow and leave them flayed open to be tossed out with the rest of those who have outgrown their usefulness. 

You’ve been trying not to think too specifically about...him since you’d returned to the Federal District, your room here just as empty as the one by the sea. His shirt, the one you’d stolen was still packed neatly into your bags. You thought about throwing it away, or tossing it in the corner for him to find. But then you remembered the bits of torn up packaging and lace and that you would not sink to that level. Physical reminders aside, your head had been blessedly—or maybe concerningly—devoid of any voices that were not your own since your, well, ‘fight’ you supposed was the word for it at brunch. 

Then again, all you ever did with him was fight, but this felt different. 

There were plenty of reasons for the Commander to be angry with you, in fact, you didn’t think there could ever be a shortage. However, this seemed just a little too...petulant for your liking. 

You recalled some of Hux’s old rants. Generally, you’d just let him rave like you were just another piece of furniture in his office, stewing in the same hot, bubbling pot of indignation. You could hear him now:

“He’s a child, a sulking, immature youngling completely incapable of a single rational thought.”

And you finally understood what he meant. 

If only you were allowed to use the silent treatment, but that seemed to be a privilege only for those higher up in the food chain. 

Besides, you were far too classy for such elementary tactics. 

You spat the last words and hoped to the stars that wherever the hell Ren had run off to, he heard them. Which one of you was the weak one now?

It was Lem who pulled you from the dark, brooding hole you’d dug yourself as he caught your eye from across the table. The speakers were switching, a half-hearted applause ringing out in the cavernous room and he flashed you a quick roll of his eyes. You bit back a smile at the way he jumped when Gahl turned to rattle off some inane order and Lem scrambled to take a note down. 

Watching it reminded you of how he’d nearly leaped out of his suit when the waiter boy with curly hair brought by your plates. Jane was his name. You’d discovered it while Lem was helping you pack, happily filling the silence with how he was much too smart to be working as a server.

And as you thought, your traitorous mind led you inevitably back to the looming, black specter that haunted your every waking minute. You would be kidding yourself if you thought you could ever have given the Commander the cold shoulder when truly he was all you ever thought about. Even before, even if it was just to remember how much you despised him. 

Past tense now, you noted worriedly. What a terrifying concept. 

But your brain was moving quickly past that, tucking it away in some far, deep corner to only be touched on long nights when you were up far past the shift in day cycles. 

Now it was replaying your brunch, closing up on a still of Jane’s hand on the glass about to tumble, on the lip biting, starry eyed and heart pounding look in his eyes. And then he was changing, the skin of his hand growing lighter, milky and soft with scattered freckles. 

Then it was your hand reaching out. Your hand slipping on the glass and Kylo Ren—sweet smile on his face—staring down at you blushing like a ripe fruit in summer.  

His lovely crooked teeth flashed behind lips like pillows filled with the softest featherdown.  

The tips of his fingers brushed your hand, light and nervous in that not-quite-accidental way that should have made your heart leap into hyper drive. Kylo’s eye flicked down at the floor, downcast coyly and glancing every few seconds to catch you staring at the pink in his cheeks.

You watched the scene as if through water, some stark, salty barrier that coated him in a film of non-reality. You waited for the star shine look of his eyes to pull you in, waited to feel your hands shake and your pulse race and any number of other inane, fluttery things that you had seen Lem stumble through.

But the sight of it, the look on this man's face—because it was most certainly not Kylo Ren looking at you with honey eyes, sparkling shy dips of nectar—it was...

It was not at all what you’d thought. 

It was revolting. 

It was an antithesis come to life.

It made your skin crawl with the unnatural feeling of it all. 

Kylo Ren’s face was not built to look at you this way, did not contain sickeningly gentle smiles, his hands knew no soft brushes of fingertips.

No, they wielded saber blades and crushed bone and spilled blood.

They tangled in your hair and molded mottled fingerprints into your skin 

His lips were carved from marble that could not comprehend such an innocent up turning, unless it was to mock his opponent.

They sucked permanent brands of ownership into your skin, and made them throb when you thought of him. 

And that was all you would ever want him to do. 

As much as he roused the caged and angry beast that resided in your bones, as much as he lied and withheld and left you to wake alone—

You couldn’t bear this bastardized, cheap imitation that stared at you sweetly.

That was not your Commander. 

That was not your Kylo Ren.

And you would not have him any other way.

That thought sat heavy with you and called to life something in the depths of your being. A fire, red and electric sparked to life. You recalled the vision he’d shown you. Recalled his words echoing:

“All I see is a whore who has no idea what she’s getting herself into.” 

You felt yourself slip into the memory of his hands burying themselves in your flesh. The image of yourself—ruined, marked, and so clearly his—was crashing to the surface of your thoughts like whitecapped waves on a stormy sea. The ache in your neck returned, as though his hands were wrenching your head back to make you watch as he split you in half with his cock. You saw it in incredible detail, the veins of his length sinking into you to the hilt in one long roll of his hips. It stung and made your nerves sing with the pain of taking him. 

It was delicious. 

It fed you the pit inside you like meat thrown to a starving beast. 

This was how he was meant to be taken: painful in his beauty, lovely in his destruction. 

His skin was so warm when he pressed your back to his chest and growled in your ear: 

“So desperate for your Commander’s cock, aren’t you?” 

And yes, of course you were, of course you always were because really had you ever felt complete or whole without him filling you to the brim? But it wasn’t just his cock you needed buried in you. No, you craved him in a way that transcended your physical being. 

Separate. That’s what he told you, that there was something more to you than just your body that could exist outside of yourself, could slip into his head and find him even when you were dreaming. 

And you were desperate for the feeling of his thoughts. For his mind, for whatever it was that let you hear him whispering all the things he could never say aloud. 

His voice in your head was the only thing that soothed the churning in your guts, it was like salve on a burn, cooling like the mint of his breath. The steady beat of his blood the only thing that truly set you at ease. 

Yes, that was your Kylo Ren. 

Possessive and withholding, saying everything in brief glances and the twitch of of jaw. Complex and often painful and perfect. 

You wanted him that way.

And you needed to hear him. 

You couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

Kylo? 

The single word echoed across whatever void your mind was inhabiting, crosses bounds to seek out something on the other end. 

You waited and wanted and— 

And then you were not so alone in your head anymore.

But the meeting room was coming back into focus and everyone was staring directly at you. The large holoprojector in the table’s center showed the first, familiar graphics of your portion of the presentation. From across the table, Lem was staring at you, brows furrowed and questioning. 

“Right,” you said, making your way to the front of the room.

You felt as though you were back in the academy, bland and boring faces all staring up at your false smile. You tried not to focus on them too hard. “As the delegate from the First Order, I’ll naturally be making the announcement of endorsement. This will be submitted to Mr. Alba for review by the end of the week along with the Order’s formal statement of apology.” 

You nodded and the projection moved on, showing the next set of animations, “Now, as I said, these will be submitted at the end of this week, so if there’s any—”

There was a hand sliding up your thigh. It was distinct and massive and coated in leather, the feeling of it so incredibly acute under your clothing you almost choked in shock. But when you slapped a hand down, there was nothing but empty air. 

The crowd for the most part seemed not to have noticed your pause, too caught up in whispered conversations to the side or staring blankly at the tabletop, so you cleared your throat, “If there’s anything you’d like to be included that should be given to me by tomorrow evening at the latest.” 

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the pulse of it clear all the way to your fingertips. Taking a shaky breath you continued to go over the list of other asinine requests, falling easily into a familiar rhythm. Presentations like this were half your job back on the Finalizer. It was home turf, and you were able to flick on autopilot long enough too— 

What was that? you asked incredulously into the void of your mind

Silence echoed, and you glanced briefly around the room, though thankfully you’d looked down at your notes when the hand returned. This time much, much higher. The unmistakable feeling of leather catching on the edge of your panties made your jaw drop. 

You called. 

Kylo’s voice reverberated through your skull, his tone was blank but you could feel the strange mixture of amusement and annoyance that was not yours. It was irritating on a level you’d thought impossible. 

Well I’m a bit busy if you hadn’t noticed, you snapped, grinding your teeth when his disembodied scoff graced your ears. 

You’d think it might be one of the most alluring things you’d ever heard if the stares of so many faceless campaign staffers weren’t pinning you down at the same time.  

Hmm, he hummed, unconcerned or unbothered by whatever was going on outside of the little world that consisted of just the two of you. 

His hand—because that’s what it had to be, his hand, somehow—curled under the hem of your panties, ripping the elastic to the side where it dug painfully into your skin. 

Stop, you hissed it, spat the word at him and tried to will away the fingers that pulled the meat of your thighs apart. 

But they only spread your legs further, a rush of cold air hitting your cunt and tensing your stomach as his fingers drew up up up— 

You’ll just have to keep quiet, won’t you?

And, of course, since you’ve never been all that good about following orders, the second he plunged two, impossibly thick fingers deep into your pussy, your voice caught in your throat. The garbled half cough half moan half wounded animal cry made every head in the room turn to face you.

Even Atreus, whose dead, white blue eyes locked in on your face and never blinked.

You froze, struggling to recall your place as Kylo worked his unseen fingers father into you, coaxing a wave of slick heat to drip from your core. Your hands bunched into fists, nails digging crescent moon holes into the skin of your palm in an effort not to gasp when he hit that lovely spot inside and made your knees threaten to give out. 

Don’t stop, now. Unless you’d like them to know what a little whore you are, Kylo growled from somewhere deep inside you. 

You caught your breath, plastering a smile on your face and taking a sip from the glass of water being offered to you. 

“My apologies, where was I?”

Shuffling through your notes, you picked up where you’d left off with proper terms to use when addressing members of the Order. You tried not to move, focusing squarely on the projection and schooling your expression—at least you hoped you were. Atreus’ stare never left you now. Like he could smell the lie on your face. Or the way your pussy gushed with ever renewed thrusting of Kylo’s leather fingers, the ridges creating a sinful drag against your walls. 

Well if I’m a whore then what are you? 

From whatever corner of your mind he was lurking in, Kylo chuckled softly. 

Much worse, he mused. 

You bit back a scream when his thumb found your clit, rubbing swift circles with the smooth material. 

But in your head, your voice rang free, and you let out the string of curses you’d been holding back, voice cracking into a whine when he added a third finger. And just as he spread you open, scissored your entrance and glided against your walls, something else opened too, gaped wide and you spilled into it.  

You could see him, but it was a different him, from a different time, walking the halls of the Finalizer. His boots ran out against the durasteel until they came to an abrupt halt and silence filled the corridor. There was a slight tremor in his hand, a minuscule shaking as he gripped his thigh and fell back against the wall, breath coming heavy through his mask. 

It was practiced, the movement of his hand that fumbled with the layers of his robes until his cock sprang free, hard and leaking and with a lovely red flush to the head. Your mouth watered at the sight of his hand stroking long and fast along the shaft, thumb teasing his tip and collecting the little beads of precum that glistened there. 

This is what you do to me, he said. I hear all of it. Every thought you have. I hear how badly you want my cock pounding into you and my hand on your throat and— 

He groaned in your head, the same way you knew he must have in whatever memory you were viewing. Distantly, you could just barely feel the movement of his hand as he jerked himself, hips bucking up into his fist. 

You were not faring much better. The words kept tumbling out of your mouth, sometimes trailing off on a particularly hard thrust of his fingers. Your head spun with this new confirmation. He’d heard all of it. Every frustrated thought, every time you’d goaded him in meetings and hallways and when you’d lie awake— or not so awake—and think about how much you maybe, probably, almost certainly didn't hate him. Not that you hadn’t known, that he could hear you. Not that you hadn’t suspected that it had always been him, not some imaginary replication. That was very clear, but now. Now you had the truth. Now you knew for certain. 

Kylo Ren had always been more than just a dream. 

For so long he had watched you crumbling from afar and said nothing.

And who knew how long he intended to keep you in the dark. 

If there wasn’t a target on your back right now, would you have ever found out?

Kylo, you gasped the words in your head as his thumb sped up in its rhythm on your clit and his fingers stroked your walls, what is this?

You needed to know. You deserved to know. 

And you could feel the words. They were there, right on the tip of his lovely pink tongue, about to find their way past the crooked edges of his teeth, lips loose in the pleasure of you. But the burst of white that clouded your vision and finally made your knees buckle drowned out any truth he may have spared you. Your combined releases flowed thick like heavy metal through your veins as you felt the pulse of him slowly fading from your mind, slipping from your grasp. 

Your hand shot out to grab the table edge, holding yourself upright as everything in your mind went blessedly, horribly quiet and the room grew much louder. Time was unclear to you. The projections showed you’d managed to get through over half of your presentation, but you called none of it. 

Lem was standing up now, walking briskly over to you with a hand on your back and another under your elbow. The fingers in your cunt had disappeared, leaving you feeling empty and cold as your slick stuck to the inside of your thighs. 

“Ah, I believe our financing presentation is up next,” Lem called out, motioning quickly for the team to take over and leading you back to your seat. 

When you were safely sat back in the chair, you felt his stiffly gelled hair brush your cheek. It smelled overpoweringly of apricots and vanilla. Too sweet. 

“Are you alright?” he whispered. 

The concern in his voice was evident, but you were lost in the past few minutes and too frustrated by the silence in your head to appreciate it. 

“Fine,” you mumbled back and turned your head back to the blank table. 

You didn’t look at him as he rushed back to his place by Gahl, who’s gaze never shifted your way. Unlike his advisor. Even now the slip of a man in his dark suit and red tie stared at you down his nose like it was the barrel of his blaster. 

Like he was taking aim. 

You swallowed and tried to go back to that space where time did not exist and your head was not so empty, but it didn’t not come. 

Instead, you sat and listened and hoped you wouldn’t leave a damp spot on the cushions when you left. 

***

There were a lot of rules in negotiations. 

The First Order made sure its best and brightest had them all carved onto the backs of their hands before they ever set foot in the situation room. When you closed your eyes, you could see the words flashing in your mind. You knew them better than you knew yourself. But maybe that wasn’t really saying much. You’d been discovering quite a lot of personal details recently you weren’t previously aware of. 

Though, that was besides the point now. 

Now all you could think of was that the number one rule to a successful negotiation, was to always know more than your opponent. 

Knowledge was your strength, knowledge was your red crackling lightsaber, knowledge was your fist closed, throat crushing Force. 

That was how you came out on top, by constantly keeping the upper hand—by always having an ace in your metaphorical back pocket. 

But right now, you were losing.

And the frustration of it was going to consume you. 

Because you didn't know what or how or why Kylo Ren was in your head. In fact, you weren’t even sure if it was your head he was in. It felt much deeper than that now. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t keep him out. Whatever you’d done, whatever you’d let in that night on the sand with the sea standing witness, you would never be able to take it back. 

Kylo Ren was a liar. That you knew, because you were a liar too. 

Knowledge was your power, but lies were your currency. They were what you traded at the table, they were what slipped the easiest from your tongue and made sure you walked away from a deal with more than you’d come in with. 

And Kylo Ren was not in the business of negotiations, so there was nothing you could ever offer that would pry his jaw open and spill all his secrets. Nothing that could persuade him to tell you what exactly had taken root in your chest when you’d accepted him, took him inside and wanted to keep him there. 

But you needed to know. 

The desire to understand consumed you and every thought in your head. The same head that found itself clunking against a new desk in a new office with the same unending dissatisfaction. 

Lem had left you a few hours ago, setting you up in his workspace with a glass of water and a concerned smile. You knew you were being unnecessarily rude to him, and had you been less shaken, you might have felt some guilt over it. 

Now you were staring up at your datapad, document resolutely blank, and unable to think of anything other than the way Kylo’s skin reflected the light off the ocean or how his hair curled into little ringlets when it was soaked through and dripping onto your face and— 

You groaned, knocking your forehead into the desktop and squeezing your eyes shut against the barrage of images and the strange, uncomfortable ache they incited. You rested your head on your arms and tried to block out the light of the office, let yourself drift and tried to recall...well what you weren’t sure. 

The Force always seemed so far away, so fantastical that you weren’t ever truly convinced it was real. Not until you’d seen it first hand, watched the bodies of countless ‘troopers dragged from the hallways with not a mark on them. It simply wasn’t something anyone talked about, not at the Academy, and certainly not when you started working under Hux. 

It was...energy, you knew that much. And it was in everything, everyone you supposed, though stronger some than others. You knew it could be used for more than just making objects float around, although for what other purposes you weren’t entirely certain. It certainly wasn’t something you’d ever been able to use. 

But you thought it must have a hand in this, whatever it was that let you see, hear, taste, feel the Commander even when he was so far from you. Somewhere deep in the dusty corners of your mind, you knew that this would always be the case from now on. That even with light years in between, he’d only ever be a hair's breadth away—a whisper of his name or a beat of your heart. 

It was hard to swallow that notion. Hard to comprehend that you would never be alone in your skin. Never would you feel so lacking. What a cruelty, you thought, that it had taken so long. That you had been born into this world incomplete. Your Commander would call that a weakness, but really wasn’t he just as unfinished as you. There was still some gap in him waiting to be filled.

So, then, why couldn’t you find him like he could find you?

You didn’t have the gifts he did, you couldn’t make doors fly from their hinges or break bone with just a twitch of your fingers. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe it always would be. 

Voices from the hall broke you from your stupor. Two of them, the first old and grating, the second slick like oil that left a bad taste in your mouth—the representative and his advisor. You’d recognize them anywhere now. 

“...well I’d say that a drink is in order,” Gahl was saying, trailing off as they walked further from Lem’s office. 

“Sir, we shouldn’t be leaving—”

Atreus spoke that time, the sound of it trickling like cold water down your spine. Thankfully, the representative spoke over him. 

“Lem is here, he’ll take care of things.”  

A hand slapped the closed door currently keeping you hidden as they passed. You stayed still at the desk until the footsteps had completely petered out, listening to the expensive click of their hard soles die away into silence. Until now it had not occurred to you how close they were. How close the blade was to striking. You let out a breath and looked around. Everything seemed a bit more foggy than usual. Then, from across the room, you heard it—a soft creaking. And when you looked up, the door to Lem’s office was slowly falling open on its hinges. 

Like it was pulled by some invisible hand. 

And you felt the same tugging, the same formless compulsion, the same ghosting over your flesh. 

Across the hall, another door was drifting open by degrees, revealing a meticulously kept office with a shiny gold name plate:

Atreus.

Slowly, you let yourself be pulled—a puppet on strings—walking noiselessly across the corridor. In the doorway you paused, staring at the intricate black lettering. You wanted answers, and something told you this is where you’d find them. 

Into the belly of the beast. 

You took a careful step over the threshold, the air honey-thick and clinging to your skin. The office was spotless, not a paper out of place as you circled around the massive desk and ran your hands up the array of drawers. Each one was furnished with an ornate golden handle that glimmered in light from the hall. 

To your right, a drawer slid open just an inch or two. You watched, eyes wide, as it shuttered of its own accord out of place. And your hand similarly seemed to have a mind of its own, reaching out to grasp the handle and reveal it’s contents. 

Inside, nestled atop of a stack of folders was a small, black notebook. At first glance, it seemed innocuous. Not many people used pen and paper these days. But then the space around it started to shimmer, locking your gaze until the world outside it turned hazy. Shaking, your hand reached out fingertips brushing the leather bound cover. You bit your lip, teeth worrying the flesh as you sat on the floor and pulled the book into your lap. The ragged edges of each page caught on your nails when you flipped them open. 

Written in small, messy scrawl, was page upon page of notes. Words ran off the lines, and continued through the margins, most too minuscule or smudged to be legible. Multiple times, the Commander’s name was scratched in between sentences, angry obsessive markings that made your eyes sting. But you kept skimming, letting your hand be guided along. 

Until suddenly the pages stopped turning. 

And you stared down in horror. 

In the awful, disgusting script, was your name circled, underlined and bolded at the top of the paper. Thin, curving, inked arrows drew lines across the other mismatched text and you slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle the grating, garbled sound that threatened to escape your chest. 

There, the words stood out clear as day among the mess of lines.  

Bond. 

Your brain hadn’t even begun to register the implications of this, but you knew. 

This was the answer you’d been searching for. 

And you had no time to process it, because footsteps from the hall were approaching, quick and hard soled. Your eyes went wide and you scrambled to close the drawer and shove the book into your jacket pocket. Knees tearing on the carpet, you tucked yourself into the space under the desk and held your breath. 

Silence rang out in the tiny room. 

From outside, you heard the footsteps grow louder, closer, and finally come to a halt right in the doorway. 

Taglist lovelies: @couldntfuckingtellya @contesa-lui-alucard @thewilddingleberries @isaxhorror @cowboy-kylo @findyourdarkness @kit-jpg @shesakillerkween @obsessionprofessional

[breanime]

Romeo Must Die

Suggested by @ben-c-group-therapy​:  Okay for the Miguel story. It could be so cliché but throwing it out there anyway. What if reader had a ex that was now the leader of another powerful cartel, and he had come back to basically try winning the reader back but had plans to take her or do everything in his power to really win her over again. Miguel would be jealous of course, another cartel leader as an ex and him being in town again wanting to wine and dine the reader. Miguel would find out the man’s plans to take reader and be super protective of her.

*gif not mine*

The first thing you noticed when you got home was the bouquet of blood red roses on the table. You smiled, going over to them and sniffing them. Miguel was always doing romantic things like this, surprising you with flowers or jewelry.

“Oh, how beautiful,” Dita said, coming in behind you.

You turned to her, smiling. “Aren’t they?” You plucked a flower from the bouquet and held it under your nose. “Miguel is so…”

“So what?” Miguel asked, coming into the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow when he saw you. “What’s this?”

“The bouquet,” you answered. You paused, lowering the rose. “Didn’t you send this?”

“No,” he frowned, walking over to the bouquet and taking the card. His frown deepened, and his whole body tensed. When he looked up at you, his dark eyes were gleaming with rage. Dita made a noise and walked off, deciding that whatever was going on was between you and your husband. “Why is Carlos Rivera sending you flowers?”

You froze. Carlos was your last boyfriend before you married Miguel; in fact, you’d actually dumped him because you started having feelings for Miguel while you were with Carlos. He moved away shortly after that, and you hadn’t heard from him…

…until now.

“I don’t know,” you said, going over to him and reading the card in his hands, “I… oh…”

The card said: ‘You mean the world to me. I miss you. Yours, Carlos R.’

Miguel crumped the note in his hand. “When was the last time you spoke to him?” He asked, his voice dangerously calm.

“I don’t know… Years ago,” you answered, “Miguel, I swear,” you threw the rose you’d been holding onto the table as if it were on fire, “I thought they were from you, I didn’t know—”

“I know, mi amor,” he reached out and pulled you to him, pressing a firm kiss to the top of your head, “It’s fine.” He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I have a meeting to go to, but how about, when I get back, we have a nice dinner? Just the two of us?”

You smiled, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “That sounds wonderful, my love.”

His smile softened, and you watched as he took the bouquet of roses and deposited it in the garbage.

That night, you put on a body-hugging black dress for dinner with Miguel. When he saw you, his eyes drank you in slowly, and you knew exactly what he was planning for the rest of the night. You sat down at the best table in the restaurant, ordered the most expensive wine, and laughed with your husband. You completely forgot about the flowers and just enjoyed Miguel’s company. But later, after you were carried to your bed by Miguel, you knew he hadn’t forgot. His touch was possessive, his hands gripping you tightly, his mouth sucking and biting, leaving bruises for anyone to see—you were his, and he painted your body with his kisses, marking you as the property of Miguel Galindo. You didn’t mind, of course, and you let him ravage you, hoping it would set him at ease.

It did.

You were in his arms, body slick with sweat and wonderfully sore from the force of your lovemaking, with your head on his chest.

“Feel better, my love?” You asked, running your fingers up and down his firm chest.

He chuckled, and you felt the rumbling beneath your head. “I do,” he answered, he reached down and took your hand in his, lifting it to him mouth and kissing your fingers. “But there’s something we need to discuss…”

“Okay…?”

“Carlos is back in town,” he told you, “He’s trying to build an empire out here…”

“Empire?” You sat up, looking down at Miguel. “Like… a cartel empire?”

“Mm hmm,” Miguel gently pushed you back down onto his chest, his hand resting on your back, “He’s so below my radar, I hadn’t even noticed, but when he sent those flowers this morning…” His grip on you tightened, and you leaned into it. “I want you to stay away from him, bien?”

You nodded. “Of course.”

“Good,” Miguel kissed the top of your head, “I love you.”

“Love you too, Miguel,” you said back, closing your eyes and letting yourself drift off to sleep.

The next day, you went out for lunch with a few of your girlfriends. They teased you about the scarf you were wearing around your neck, knowing you were trying to hide your hickeys, and you sipped on mimosas as you talked.

“Pardon me,” the waiter said, interrupting your laughter, “this is for you, ma’mm.” He placed a bottle of what used to be your favorite champagne on the table in front of you. “Enjoy.”

Your girls all oohed and aahed, opening the champagne and laughing wildly at the pop of the cork. You, however, felt your skin go cold. You looked around you, eyes flitting around the restaurant until they landed on him…

Carlos.

He was sitting alone at the bar wearing a hideous peach suit, and he raised his glass to you. You glanced around you—Miguel insisted on you taking bodyguards wherever you went, and you were glad for it. Especially because today…

…You had Nestor.

Standing up, you jerked your head towards Carlos, and Nestor’s eyes narrowed. “Be right back,” you told your friends, walking towards the bar. You didn’t have to look to know Nestor was behind you.

“Y/N,” Carlos said, grinning, as he stood up, arms out for a hug, “You look beautiful.”

“What’s your deal?” You asked, crossing your arms. “Are you stalking me now? Sending me unwanted flowers wasn’t enough, so you graduated to shitty champagne I haven’t drank since college?”

He dropped his arms, still smiling. “You’ve still got that fire,” he noticed, “I’m glad. Galindo hasn’t stolen that from you yet.”

“Let me save you some time,” you said, keeping your voice level, “I’m not interested, we don’t need you here, my husband is already annoyed by your presence, and I don’t want any gifts from you. In fact, I want you to crawl back into whatever hole you climbed out of and leave me alone. Comprende?”

Carlos’ smile didn’t waver. “You misunderstand,” he said, “the only reason I’m here is for you. The business perks are just…” He shrugged. “Perks. Sweetheart—”

“—don’t call me that,” you interrupted.

“—Y/N,” he amended, “I’m here for you. I never stopped loving you, not even after you ran off with Galindo—”

“I didn’t run off,” you said, “I met someone better—my soulmate—and I married him. And I’m telling you, nicely, to leave me alone before my husband tells you himself.” You stopped, looking over your shoulder as Nestor approached. “Nestor, could you please escort Mr. Rivera out?” You asked calmly. “My friends and I are having a nice lunch, and he’s disturbing us.”

“Absolutely, Mrs. Galindo,” he said, his voice just above a growl. Carlos bristled, but he didn’t struggle. Apparently, he didn’t want to make a scene.

“Just know this,” he said over his shoulder as Nestor not-so-gently led him away, “I will do everything in my power to win you back—Galindo be damned!”

You sighed. You tried to be nice about it.

Later, Nestor drove you home. You leaned forward a bit and noticed his knuckles were bruised.

You smiled.

Miguel was waiting for you when you got home. He gave Nestor a curt nod, and the other man nodded back before walking off, leaving the two of you alone together. “Nestor told me what happened today,” he said, opening his arms for a hug.

You went to him immediately, wrapping your arms around his back. “I didn’t know he’d be there,” you said, “I swear…”

“I know you didn’t,” he said into your hair, “but this is a problem. I can’t have him out here trying to seduce you…” His voice dropped. “I won’t have him out here trying to seduce you. You told him once, nicely…”

“And Nestor told him again,” you grinned, “not-so-nicely…”

“Yes,” Miguel smiled down at you, “But here’s the thing, mi vida, he doesn’t get a third warning. The next time he so much as thinks of you; I will kill him.”

Your smile widened, your husband’s words going straight between your legs. “Miguel…”

“You’re mine,” he said, gripping your chin in his hand, “I should be the only man buying you flowers and ordering you drinks…”

“I didn’t drink the champagne,” you told him, draping your arms around his shoulders, “I don’t want any other man buying me things but you.”

“If you see him again,” Miguel said, his hands on your hips, “call me, no matter where I am or what I’m doing. I want to know.”

You tilted your head. You could see—and hear—the quiet rage in Miguel’s voice, but there was something else too… Something besides the anger and indignation. “What’s wrong?” You asked.

Miguel sighed. “Carlos Rivera said… he’d do anything to win you back,” he shook his head, “I just… I want to kill him so badly, my love…”

“He’s been warned,” you said, kissing his nose, “I don’t think he’ll push things any further…” You kissed his lips, and you felt Miguel relax in your embrace. “…And if he does… then you get to kill him. It’s a win-win.”

He laughed against your lips, and when you went to bed that night, you tried to ease his worries with your touch, gently kissing and caressing him as you rolled around in bed. He was much gentler this time, his lips brushing against your skin in a tender caress, his beard lovingly burning your flesh as he moved against you. You made sure to be vocal, telling Miguel how much you loved him and how he was everything to you, your lips on his as he moved inside of you. You held him close, and when you fell asleep that night, the only name on your lips was his.

Neither you nor Miguel brought up Carlos again for three weeks after that. Things went back to normal; there were no more flowers or bottles of champagne delivered. You didn’t even see Carlos around town. In fact, you heard the businesses Carlos had been trying to start (the legit businesses, the cover-ups) had all gone belly up. Miguel bought them out and added them to the Galindo empire. You didn’t ask, but you had a feeling Carlos didn’t just drop off of the face of the earth on his own…

“Miguel,” you started, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around him. It was early, he was wearing his robe, and you were wearing yours. No one else was up—the only reason you two were awake was because you’d both needed a snack between sessions. “Can I ask you a question?”

“After that,” he grinned, turning in your arms with a smile, “You can ask me whatever you want.” He picked your hand up and kissed it. “I’m a slave to you, mi amor.”

You giggled. “Mm hmm… We’ll see,” you put a hand in his hair, “My love, when was the last time you put on your yellow raincoat?” He stiffened, and you laughed. “You said I could ask whatever I want…”

“You know I don’t like to talk about that when I’m at home…” He started.

“Was it the night after I went out with my friends? No,” you shook your head, smiling, “It couldn’t have been that night. You were… busy.”

Miguel chuckled, cupping your face in his hand. “Sweetheart…”

“It must have been that morning, when you left for work,” you went on, “Is that it?”

Miguel sighed. “Do you really want to know?”

You nodded. “I do.”

He took your hand and lead you to the table, his hand still in yours as you sat down. “What exactly do you want to know?”

“Did you kill him?” You asked, nothing but curiosity in your eyes.

Miguel nodded. “The next morning, when I went to work, I had Nestor pick him up,” he told you casually, “delivered him to my church pew.” His fingers flexed in yours. “We had a good talk.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Simple facts. I reminded him that you were my wife, and that you chose me over him years ago. I told him that wasn’t going to change just because he moved a few bricks and could afford outdated champagne now.” He shrugged. “I told him that you were mine.”

You felt your breath hitch. “And what did he say?”

“He disagreed,” Miguel said easily, “He wanted to argue that he knew you better than I do, and that he could treat you better.”

“And you killed him.”

He nodded. “I cut his balls off,” he said, as if it wasn’t a big deal, “and I cut his throat. He bled all over my shoes.” Miguel raised your hand to his mouth again, his dark eyes never leaving yours. “I sent his body back to Mexico in six boxes…”

“One for every year we’ve been married,” you said, awed.

Miguel smiled. “Yes.” He kissed your hand. “It didn’t matter to me when he tried to zero in on our business,” he said, “It didn’t matter that he didn’t come to me for permission to work in my territory,” he went on, “But when he said he was going to have you…” Miguel’s dark eyes flashed. “I couldn’t let him walk away. You’re mine,” he intoned, “and any man who wants to say otherwise dies bloody.”

You took a breath. “I love you, Miguel.”

He smiled, his features softening as he looked over at you. “I love you, mi amor.” He stood, your hand still in his. “Now come, let me show you just how much I love you.”

You giggling, following him upstairs. You loved him—the man, the cartel boss, the murderer—you adored every part of him.

And he, clearly, loved you too.

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

To be clear, my requests are NOT open, but I wanted to do a jealous/protective Miguel story, and I asked for possible storylines. And I got this! Thanks for reading!

Everything Taglist: @encounterthepast​ @jigsawlover10​ @gollyderek​  @charlylama @realduckvader​ @teacuplotus @whovianayesha​  @lexxierave​ @loveintheroyalfamily  @fanfictionrecommendations-com​  @maxslime-blog​ @songforhema​ @lucielandss @themadhatter92​  @christinawxxx​ @anabella-baby @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme​ @luminex3​ @ashkuuuu​ @luckysstrikes​ @carlaangel86​ @floralpeaceofmind @dylanobrusso​ @iaintnofurry​  @ymariejp​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @mrsjaxtellerfan​ @holamor​ @drinix​ @rhabakoli​ @stories-you-wont-hear @king4thesirens​ @leahnicole1219​ @evanlys19​  @binbons-is-theloml​ @aikeia @bitch-imma-head-out  @witchygagirl @geeksareunique​

Nick Amaro/Miguel Galindo Taglist: @glimmerglittergirl​ @cococruz-mayansmc​  

[malethirsty]

Loyalty - Klaus Mikaelson & Stefan Salvatore

Summary: To move forward in your relationship with Klaus, you take a trip back to the 1920s with old friend Stefan Salvatore. The discovery you find about them isn’t that shocking, but their request certainly is.

Warnings: M/M smut (21+), Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap!), Mentions of Mikael, Ripper!Stefan

Ever since you stood up for yourself, you found Elena and her gang had not interacted with you, which greatly relieved you. With them gone, you decided to throw yourself into becoming part of Klaus’s army to assassinate Mikael alongside Tyler, Klaus however had a different idea. “Y/N, he’s dangerous, he’ll try to get to me through hurting you if you’re out there!” “And what about Tyler?, he’s out with the other hybrids trying to keep you safe, please share the same care with him as you do me!” Klaus softened a bit, he only seemed to do that with you, Tyler & Stefan these days, anyone else would be bitten as punishment or slapped around by the hybrid. “You’re human love, they are hybrids. It’s not that I don’t care about Tyler, but you were the first person in a long time who’s shown me love, I can’t let that go” you backed off albeit tentatively “Look, I know how much getting rid of this prick means to you, so I don’t want him to live rent free in your life.” “And how do you plan to throw him out if it’s not killing him?” Klaus posed to you “How about a party/history lesson? You always said Stefan pulled you out of a depressing revery in the 1920s, so we throw a 20s styled party, just us.” Klaus grinned “Y/N, somehow you come up with the best ideas to keep me in a good mood. Deal, we can spend tomorrow night together, I’m sure Stefan won’t mind” “Check in case!” Klaus grinned as he left to find his friend.

Stefan gave the all clear so you spent some of the following morning with Tyler, supporting him in training in case he needed to defend himself from hunting the brutal original vampire, while Klaus got the elements of the party ready and Stefan got done up. As the afternoon rolled in, you headed back up to the Mikaelson house to get ready, Klaus said it started at 7PM sharp, and you were aware you need a solid few hours to look like a 20s Modern Man. Heading in, you discovered that Klaus had left you a 20s styled suit & a compelled team to help you get ready and act as extras to set the mood for the night. They were also compelled to let Klaus know if something came up with Mikael, which you discovered as your hair was done over by one of the staffers ‘Well at least he’s on somewhat of an alert rather than dropping it’ you thought. After a few hours, you had turned from 21st Century Cool to 20th Century Swave. A few minutes to 7, you headed down the stairs & into the dining room.

The room was decked out, blue hangings on the walls, the female members of the team compelled to dance in flapper gear, the male members of the team compelled to serve empty tables & at a table in the centre, sat Klaus & Stefan. They turned around as you entered with Klaus giving a trademark grin & Stefan waving you over. “Well Y/N, you look incredible love” Klaus complimented as you sat down “Not so bad yourself Mr. Original Hybrid.” You sent back, Klaus smiling at your attempt at a flirty comment “And Klaus probably won’t tell you, but your blood smells fantastic.” Stefan said, obviously conplimenting you but it caused Klaus to turn his head slightly, an expression of blankness on his face but you knew better, Klaus had to have been seething at Stefan’s bloodlust taking hold. “Now now! I don’t want either of you getting angry, this is a night of relaxing.” "I thought this was supposed to be a history lesson as well as a party?” Klaus reminded you “And me and Stefan here didn’t approve of each other when we met.” “I know that, but Texas Chainsaw Massacre was not made in Chicago in the 1920s, so keep it festive.” Klaus let a dimply smile cross his face while Stefan laughed “Other than the blue drapes and the one floor, this is an exact replica of where I first met Klaus. I was dating Rebekah at the time & I needed to make a good first impression” 

“So what did you do to win him over?” Y/N asked Stefan “I made one of the dancers cut herself so she bled into a glass & then made her asshole husband drink it.” he said naturally. You very nearly choked on your drink, you knew Stefan was sharp at the best of times but God Damn! “Ever since that, I’ve cared deeply for him, he made me feel at home, gave me self worth, I loved him so much.” As Klaus made his statement you realised in a way, Klaus & Stefan besides the whole blood glass thing were a lot like you & Klaus, the things about confidence resonated, as that was what you helped him with in those first interactions. As the evening went on, waiters served decade styled meals to your table, and you quickly got a taste for the cheese platters. However Klaus knowing your straight edge side, eschewed the alcohol portion leaving it to him & Stefan, instead you had your selection of juices. It eventually did seem like the 1920s were still going on & eventually you got onto the dance floor & had a variety of dances, like slow dancing Klaus to Dream A Little Dream of Me to the Charleston with Stefan & eventually having a messy routine with the compelled flappers to Fred Astaire, much to the laughter of the vampire/hybrid combination you had shared dinner with. 

Eventually Klaus decided to show you another part of his & Stefan’s time in the 20s, but it was to be done in the bedroom on the second landing, so you followed both Klaus & Stefan up the stairs “Make sure no one’s coming” Klaus asked you as he sped into the bedroom with Stefan, and you glanced around at the landing to find no one there. “All clear” you said as you turned around “Good love, now enter our domain”, you moved into the bedroom and closed the door. Turning around, you saw Klaus & Stefan pounce at each other, entangling in a beautiful kiss, you stared in shock before placing your hands on your hips “I knew it! I knew you two had a thing! There’s a lot of chemistry between you, more than a couple of friends.” Klaus & Stefan parted and looked towards you “It took a while but after Stefan acknowledged me as a King one night, I took him to my room and fucked him into the next sunrise.” Stefan moaned out and looked to you “You’ve been on the end of that cock Y/N, you know what Klaus can do for his lover.” You moved towards them “And I guess I’m supposed to watch you enact your history together?” "Oh no love, we expect you to be with us tonight.” Klaus responded “Stefan, do the honours” 

Stefan sped towards you, ridding you of your clothing before leading you to Klaus. “Mm” Klaus praised, looking you up and down “Love, are you ready to be fucked by a Hybrid and his Rippah?” You looked behind you to see Stefan admiring your backside and turned back to Klaus “What’s taking you both so bloody long?” You grinned, knowing you’d get them cocky enough to wreck you and you were not disappointed. Klaus seized you, pulling you toward him as Stefan sped behind you so you wouldn’t escape as Klaus smashed his lips on yours, Stefan taking the opportunity to kiss your neck. It was utter bliss stuck between the both of them as you removed Klaus’s shirt to rub his nipples, the hybrid moaning breathily into your mouth. Stefan decided to stimulate your nipples as well, causing the kiss to break as you threw your head back in a moan as you gripped onto Klaus’s shoulders, Stefan taking control of your mouth in a kiss as Klaus kissed over the parts of your neck that Stefan had graced. “Klaus. Stefan. Naked. Now. Please.” was all you were able to get out as they worked over you, in a speedy flash Klaus had removed his suit pants whilst Stefan removed everything he had “Fuck Stefan, you’re so muscular!” You said shocked, you had never appreciated his good looks before. The vampire grinned “Looks like Y/N appreciated my physique the same as you when you took me that first night in Chicago.” he said to Klaus “We have good taste, he and I” Klaus responded “Now love, get on the bed, and let us please you tonight.

You made your way onto Klaus’s bed, whilst the two men stalked towards you, each kissing a side of your face and down your neck. They emerged with black veins on their faces, fangs elongated and knowing they wished to feed, you tilted your neck up in offering. “God, he has a really pretty neck.” Stefan said to Klaus adoringly “And he’s all ours, what fun!” Klaus & Stefan struct in synchronicity drinking you deep as you cried out. “Yes, drink from me, you beautiful creatures, use me as your blood bag, take your share before you fuck me.” You cried out, utterly intoxicated by the feeling of these two forces of nature sucking your blood. Soon enough both Klaus & Stefan removed themselves from your neck, blood dripping from their faces. “Fuck, it was so hard not to drain you babe, you tasted perfect, more perfect than anyone else” Stefan moaned out, leaning down to kiss you, your blood still on his lips. He soon parted, licking the traces off yours and his lips. You grinned, you had another dose of ammunition if Elena decided to get brave again, Klaus detected your euphoria and leant down for a kiss as well. “Love, we can smell how you lust for us, shall we fuck you now?” "Yes Klaus, oh God I need you both!”, Klaus bit his wrist & hold it to your mouth “Drink love, you will need all your strength back for what’s next”, as you drank, your neck healed and you became a lot more bolder than before.

Klaus & Stefan put on a show whilst you drank, kissing, whilst stroking each others cock, now dripping with precum, they soon broke apart, Klaus removing his wrist from your mouth “You ready for us?” They asked together. You grinned at them “Yes”. They thrusted forwards, you yelled out from the pain and the two immediately halted, letting you get used to their cocks. After a while you nodded your head & the two began to fuck into you, moans filling the room as the two supernatural creatures fucked you. “We would always do this in Chicago” Stefan whispered in your ear “Find some whore, fight over them so they’d get aroused about using us, then we’d take them to our room, fuck them, then drink all their blood, me and Klaus bathed in our spoils.” You let out a cry as Klaus found your G-Spot. Stefan grinned knowing Klaus was giving you the utmost pleasure “It’s hot to see how subservient you are to him, you deserve to be with him, well” Stefan shrugged “Along with me of course.”

Klaus now moved down as Stefan took the reigns to smash into your prostate “Look at what you’ve turned The Rippah into, he may not show it, but he’s falling apart as your hole tightens around his cock, you might even domesticate him. You’d like that right? A big bad rippah, draining your enemies dry before fucking you in a blaze of passion, making you come with him?” You nodded at Klaus, a moan escaping your lips to a grin from the hybrid “I’d love that as well love.” He stared at Stefan “I want him with us forever from now on.” You looked at Stefan with pleading eyes “Oh fuck! Yes Stefan, we need you, me and Niklaus, I can never get enough of your massive cock filling me up, Niklaus loves you, I love you! God Stefan!” Any composure Stefan had was lost as he bucked into your harsher, cries of passion coming from him, as Klaus leant into his ear “Now Stefan, come for Y/N.” Stefan reared his head back, crying out in sated bliss as he shot his load, pulling out of you, he moved aside and watched as Klaus took centre stage. “God Stefan, your load is so warm, I’m going to fuck it into Y/N even more, you watch as I take him” Stefan grinned at his longtime love as he rested, admiring you & Klaus as you fucked. 

You leant up and kissed Klaus & moved your hand over his tattoos “They look beautiful Niklaus” Klaus had become a grunting mess as he fucked into you, but gave you a wink. “Yeah, you like it Y/N. Fucking take it!” Stefan teased as he watched you be used by the hybrid, “Yes love, you’re so tight around me, so beautiful, God!” Klaus cried out, Klaus began to whirl above you, using his speed & you knew you were a gonner. As he fucked harder and harder, you shot your load, your eyes seeing stars as you saw Klaus begin to fall as equally apart “Yes love, I’m gonna come!” no sooner had Klaus said this, he groaned out as he began to shoot his cum. Klaus pulled out and rested next to you, Stefan on the other side. 

The bed suddenly creeked, then collapsed. You all burst into laughter “Well I mean, did any of us expect it to stay up?” you got out, Klaus & Stefan continuing their laughter “No I guess not” Stefan got out. The fun mood was soon ruined by one of the compelled waiters rushing in, the “HEY’S” followed by protecting yourselves was left ignored the waiter who had a blank expression as he said “Klaus, Tyler and his army have located and restrained Mikael.” You turned to look at Klaus but he had speedingly dressed and left. You turned to Stefan, who looked very serious “I hope Klaus makes him suffer, not only for breaking us apart but for everything he put Klaus through” You nodded as you rested yourself against Stefan, both waiting for the hybrid to return. You both did not have to wait long as Klaus raced back panting but grinning “I- I did it, Mikael’s gone” Stefan raced over to him & kissed him. “We captured him out alone & sent the signal as soon as we could” Tyler said racing in, you rushing over to him “Oh thank God you’re ok! I was worried about you getting hurt.” “He put up a fight but I got him”. Soon you both made seperate ways, Klaus & Stefan spending a much deserved night together with each other and you making sure Tyler was alright.

[haro-whumps]

Group Whumpees 4: Responsibility

CW: referenced noncon, transphobia (out of ignorance, not malice, but VERY present), modern slavery, aftermath of abuse, multiple whumpees, abrasive language

Tag list: @bleeding-demon-teeth @theycomeinthrees @redwingedwhump @whimperwoods @inpainandsuffering @whole-and-apart-and-between @whump-whump-whump-it-up @whumpingupastorm @newandfiguringitout @lonesome-hunter @looptheloup @icannotweave @cowboysrappin @deluxewhump @whumping-every-day @yeet-me-out-a-window @what-a-whumpy-world @burtlederp 

This is... a LONG one...

First

Nyla and Evan helped Lilah clean up her open injuries and scabs, the many hands making light work, and they were off to join Greyson and Sasha in the kitchen in hardly any time at all. On the way there, Nyla detoured to the front facing window, and Master’s car from the night before was, indeed, gone.

She was the last to the kitchen but was able to smile and announce his absence. The nervous energy settled into relief and a bit of joy, and Nyla recounted the morning’s encounter to the others, Sasha frying up five sausages. 

“He’ll be gone most of the day,” Lilah repeated, thoughtful, and Evan flicked a lock of her hair.

“And he doesn’t eat breakfast, so the bread’s all ours.”

Lilah and Evan shared a smile, and Nyla sighed. Troublemakers, both of them, Lilah couldn’t keep her face from twisting up sourly or going vacant and Evan couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life, and the moment they got an inch of leash they started acting like hooligans. She was so fond of them both; she just wished they’d stop getting into trouble.

“We should talk, while he’s out,” Nyla asserted, fingertips drumming on the kitchen counter. “Compare observations and start up some guesswork on how to please him. He told us to ‘not push ourselves too hard’ today, so we can spare an hour or so for conversation, I think.”

“Is th-that really s-s-safe?” Sasha asked.

“He told us to,” Nyla repeated, fists balling, “I’ll take full blame for any ire, but he told us to, and we need to know what we’re going to do, here out. Grey, tell us what happened last night. Why were you in bed with us?” 

“He didn’t want anyone, last night,” Greyson stated calmly, though his normally immobile brow furrowed. “He cited being drunk, and said he wasn’t going to hurt us, but he was displeased, though by what, I cannot tell.”

“He probably wanted a fuck,” Evan said, and everyone tensed at his angry words. “Grey and I aren’t gonna cut it, anymore. We’ve got a Master now.”

“If that’s what he wanted, he would’ve sent for one of us, then,” Nyla dismissed with a shake of her head, washing her hands before checking to see if the bread was done. Close, but not quite yet. “He might have actually been too drunk to act on whatever he wanted, and that was what caused his displeasure.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to assume either of those,” Greyson said contemplatively, and they all turned a wary eye on him. He leaned forward, even though there was no one else in the house to hear, and they all instinctively leaned towards him in response. “Things are… more complicated, with Master Galo. He’s one of those transvestites. I don’t know entirely what that means, for us, but I think that we shouldn’t rule any possibilities out.”

“He’s a girl?” Lilah asked, screwing up her face in confusion.

“Mm,” Greyson confirmed with a nod. 

“Should we call him ‘she?’”

“I think that would be a good way to make him angry,” Nyla discouraged, crossing her arms. “Greyson, why didn’t you bring this up sooner?”

“I’m honestly still not sure what to do with this information,” Greyson said as Sasha pulled the bread out of the oven and set it on the counter to cool, waving away the steam with an oven mitt. “I didn’t want to throw us all into unnecessary concern and confusion last night, when we were all already concerned and confused.”

“And if Evan or I had gone to lay at the foot of his bed?” Nyla asked, trying not to sound accusatory, but she was a little peeved with her friend.

Greyson simply shrugged. “Then I would have told you, since it would have been relevant.”

“So if he has a cunt, does that mean Grey and I are still on fucktoy duty?” Evan asked, changing the subject in a way he probably thought was subtle.

“Don’t, um, t-trannies get s-surgeries?” Sasha asked.

“I do remember Mistress complaining about that fairly often,” Nyla agreed, and Greyson frowned.

“He hadn’t mentioned surgery when talking about his life events. Or maybe that’s what ‘going on T’ meant…”

“Going on penis? No, that starts with a p; going on… the surgery table?” Evan sounded out, pulling a sausage link and two eggs from the skillets and accepting a slice of bread from Sasha, then passing the plate to Lilah. He did it twice more with Nyla and Greyson, before accepting one for himself, and Sasha filled her own.

“Regardless,” Nyla said, accepting the plate from Evan, “we should remain respectful. Master Galo has not indicated that we should call him anything but Master, and we’ll just have to see who he wants to fuck when we guess right.”

“I h-hate all this gu-guessing,” Sasha said miserably, stabbing her fork into the sausage a little harder than she normally would. Nyla sighed, just barely, and her expression softened.

“I’ll ask him again for foods that he likes,” Nyla promised. “For tonight, potatoes. I don’t think there’s been a single guess of Mistress’s that didn’t like potatoes,” Nyla decided, looking to Greyson. He nodded in confirmation; as the designated waiter, he’d seen more of Mistress’s guests at the dinner table than the rest of them combined.

“I c-can do pot-tatoes,” Sasha agreed, and Nyla smiled.

“Do you think he’ll want the garden redone?” Lilah asked, staring at the door that would lead to the back exit. Nyla screwed her lips up, and took a bite of bread and egg, buying herself time to think. 

“Do you think he’ll care?” Evan asked, rubbing a hand up and down Lilah’s back. “Worrying about gardens and flowers doesn’t seem very manly.”

“Lawncare is ‘a man’s job,’ though,” Lilah reminded.

“But if he’s not a-actually a m-man..?”

“I think we should probably operate under the assumption that he is a man, just not one that Mistress would approve of,” Greyson stated.

“Grey’s right,” Nyla agreed, “And Mistress is dead, and Master is here, so it’s his outlook that we should be concerning ourselves with, now.” Nyla smiled at Lilah reassuringly. “I’ll find out if he wants anything changed. Until then, carry on normally, and skip mowing for now.”

Nyla turned to Greyson next. “I’ll Attend, tonight, and if the displeasure continues we’ll take a new approach. Serve less wine at dinner tonight.” Greyson nodded.

“Are you gonna solve my problems too?” Evan asked, and she knew that although his tone was flippant, he was only half joking. She wasn’t though.

“Yes,” she said firmly, approaching him and crossing her arms, having to crane her neck back to stare up at him from this close but that was fine. She knew he was unsettled by this kind of proximity. “You, keep your mouth shut around Master. Don’t go peeving him for no reason; he’s not like Mistress.”

Evan met her gaze, and she couldn’t handle that, she could not handle that.

“Evan,” she said, a little harsher and a little more desperately, “You’ve seen how big he is,” she couldn’t help the crack in her voice on the words seen, “He could break you, Evan, he could kill you without too much effort. I know you made a habit of getting Mistress angry just so it would be over quicker, but you can not do that anymore.”

Evan’s eyes no longer met hers, sweat beading but that wasn’t enough.

“Promise me.”

“Nyla…”

“Evan, promise me you won’t do anything stupid or deadly. Promise me.”

“Ha… you’re really not having it, huh?”

“I’m not,” she agreed, voice smoother, now, controlled. She’d always had the best control, out of all of them. 

“...I promise I won’t get myself killed,” Evan said, and she huffed. It was as good as she would get without this turning into a full on spat, and none of their nerves could handle that at the time.

“Alright. He hasn’t hurt any of us yet and he’s very friendly. He liked dinner last night, regularly attends the gym, and has claimed the turquoise guest bedroom. He’s a transvestite, Mistress Bethany’s nephew, and he likes spinach, apples, celery, ginger, pasta and carrots. Do we know anything else about him?”

“He doesn’t care for his father,” Greyson answered. “When he was a child, he enjoyed the pool and antique musicals.”

“The pool and musicals are things we can work with,” Nyla said, feeling a little better just from having that much more information to go off of, “And we’ll be careful to steer clear regarding his father. Anything else?”

A quick survey of the kitchen confirmed that that was it, Sasha wringing her hands, Lilah gone all distant and Quiet again, Greyson’s eyes both sharp and tired, Evan sulking.

“Alright.” Nyla brushed down her apron. “We’ve been ordered to take it easy, today. I don’t know what that means, but focus on completing the smaller, more specialized tasks than heavy maintenance, alright?”

Four nods met her words, and she nodded as well. “Good. Let’s hop to it then.”

A loud noise from the front of the mansion had the blood in Nyla’s veins run like ice, porcelain smile reflexively stretched across her face and her spine ramrod straight, hands clasped neatly in front of her. Sasha jumped, Greyson stood from the kitchen stool with his face void and posture perfect, Lilah’s arms wrapped around herself like snakes, and Evan’s eyes blew wide.

Three more times, the sound came, the loose branch from the front maple finally swinging low in the strong winds outside.

“...Actually, Evan, would you go ahead and help Lilah with that branch in the front yard?” Nyla suggested, not quite able to pull the perfect smile off her face just yet.

Evan nodded, slinging his arm around Lilah’s shoulders--and Nyla smiled more genuinely at how his presence always managed to bring her back out. Her eyes were never all the way glassy, with Evan paying attention to her, even on the worse nights. She took a deep, only somewhat-shaky breath, and then patted her apron again, a few more times than strictly necessary.

“Right. Meet back here for lunch, everyone.”

And with that, she spun and strode out into the house. She woke up the tablet in the computer room and ordered the groceries Master Galo had requested, as well as more pasta, carrots, some beans, potatoes, and rice. She’d make a second, more comprehensive order when Master Galo gave her a better idea of his desires, but for now it couldn’t hurt to stock up on dietary staples. She pulled her notepad out of her apron’s pocket and jotted down “groceries 1” then immediately crossed it out, and wrote “groceries 2” beneath it. She quickly wrote down her list for the day, and then set out to complete the tasks.

She met Greyson in Master’s bedroom, helped him strip the sheets off the bed and put on new ones, then left him with Master’s discarded clothes from the night before and the unwashed bedding. She watered the potted plant Master had brought in, simply because she wasn’t sure if that should be Evan and Grey’s job or hers, and when that was the case she defaulted to taking it as hers. She made a list of the personal grooming tools Master Galo possessed, lifting the bottles of shampoo and soap to check how full they were. If it were mistress, Nyla would add another bottle of conditioner to the second list of groceries, but Master Galo had significantly less hair than she did. Better wait on that.

Master Galo did not, judging from the pile of items he’d removed from the walls and tables and whatnot, like the particularly gaudy form of art Mistress Bethany liked. She made note of that, and decided to revisit that later. She checked the stock on laundry materials--good--and if Lilah had enough gasoline--she did--before moving onto Mistress’s craft room. 

Nyla stared at it helplessly for only a moment. Mistress had required highly specific amounts of thread, beads, and fabric. Too much and there wouldn't be room to store them, too little and Mistress might run out, and that meant Nyla would be thoroughly beaten. Mistress never told Nyla what she had or hadn’t used; it was Nyla’s job to catalogue supplies every day, and make new orders every single day.

Learn Master’s hobbies and buy supplies, Nyla added to her list, closing the door to the craft room behind her. She would ask Master Galo how he would prefer to dispose of the materials. Ideally some other cousin or somesuch would want to inherit the supplies and would take care of it. Otherwise, Nyla felt the project looming over her head. She added garbage bags to grocery list 2, and then added totes and other moving containers as an extra precaution. 

Her most time consuming task suddenly no longer relevant, Nyla assisted her family with theirs, jotting down notes and their concerns as they came. Every now and then, worry would ping at her. She’d Attended Mistress plenty of nights, but never for sex, only for pain and to offer midnight assistance. Nyla had never worked on her back before. Evan uniformly hated it, but Greyson gave mixed reviews. Master Galo was large, and strong, and frightening, so Nyla couldn’t spend too much time on those lines of thought, always dragging herself back to cataloguing belongings, checking in on her family’s progress, and she even had the time to stop by the boiler room and check the water heater for any new leaks. At lunch, she felt fairly accomplished, almost-ready to face their Master. 

How to approach him, though? Mistress was at her most approachable between dinner and Jeopardy. The wine wouldn't have made her too likely to strike, yet, still moving through her system, and Mistress never took well to requests after her nightly show. But Master? Nyla had no idea. 

It meant guessing. It meant relearning everything she’d been viciously, painfully taught when she was fourteen and new here. It meant just… going for it, with no experience to take comfort in. Fine. 

She was the head of the household, and that was her job. So she'd do it. 

--

Galo had hoped that a trip to the gym would help clear his head. It had been a nice distraction, but not much else. So he called up the funeral place and got some groundwork laid out, and then wrote the email to his family and called his father preemptively, hopefully getting points for the fact that he’d called first, but probably not. And then his sister called, so he managed to weasel his way out of his father’s call with only an extra ten minutes after the beeps, and he called his sister back, and then his uncle called, and then a cousin wanted to know why the hell Galo had been the one put in charge and it had taken everything left in Galo’s fraying patience not to scream back, “Because I'm the only responsible member of this family!”

And so phonecall after phonecall went, and Galo had taken a painkiller before he’d dialed his father but he was still left with a headache when he was done. He couldn't even blame dehydration for it; he’d drunk plenty throughout the calls, wishing his water was alcohol. 

He had hoped, rather vainly, that his subconscious would process whatever was happening in Auntie Bethany’s house while he worked out and talked to his godawful family. He tried to think about the people there, about the enormity of what had happened to them, and his brain still hit a blank wall. 

It was too much, so, break it down. What did he, for a fact, know?

He pulled an old, beat up notebook out of his computer bag, flipped past the work he’d done in college, and clicked his pen.

The Den is a bad place

Nyla doesn’t like having her face touched

Galo felt his head clear, a little. He drew a line down the middle of the page and started a second column.

Auntie Bethany kept five slaves in a perpetual state of fear, and tortured them.

Back on the first column:

Greyson has burn scars all over his arms and whip/knife/??? scars all over his back

Sasha cannot speak, y/n questions only, or get Nyla

Don’t flex in front of them

Nyla is in charge(???) Probably.

Lilah is the gardener

Sasha is the cook

Greyson is a waiter? Probably?

Evan… housework?

Galo genuinely wasn’t sure what Evan and Greyson’s jobs were, but, whatever. They knew what they were doing. A sour thought twisted in his stomach, and he made another bulletpoint in the right column.

Auntie Bethany

It was too awful to write. He didn’t want to acknowledge it, didn’t want to spell it out. Not his own family, his flesh and blood. But shying away from the truth would probably only cause them harm, down the line.

Auntie Bethany raped Greyson. Probably Evan, too.

Auntie Bethany had been a deeply queerphobic individual. Galo could at least be certain that she would never have fucked Nyla, Sasha, or Lilah, as pathetic of a comfort as that was. But the fact that she’d--

Focus.

Lilah is very injured right now. Reassign her?

Nyla orders groceries, she wants foods I like. Think up some ideas.

Did he still have his blue highlighter? He did! He highlighted that one, since it required him to do something. Do something, ha, good idea. He really, really needed to think of what to do. These people needed help, and at present he was the only one who could give it to them. He flipped the page over and started, on a blank sheet, a new list, separate from his observations and theories.

Ideas!

Give clear, achievable orders.

Look into therapists who have a precedence with treating abused slaves.

Reassign Lilah?

He’d written that on the first list but eh, it belonged here more.

Keep acting cheerful?

The problem was: he wasn’t sure if that was working. His flighty reflex-brain had been insistent on acting calm, friendly, approachable, like nothing was wrong and everything was okay, but was that the best option? He frightened them so badly… But if not that, then what else?

Briefly, he thought of maybe scaring them into acting out, and then showing them it was fine for them to do that, but he quickly discarded the idea. He’d seen enough of Greyson and Sasha to know that whatever he did, they’d just accept it, and probably break down crying part way through. Whatever Auntie Bethany had done to them, she’d snuffed out their resistance. 

He instinctively rejected the idea of playing pretend at a cruel master, but then forced himself to reexamine the idea. Not a cruel master, no, but maybe… a strict one? Give them order, stability, expectations.

Yeah, right. Galo was a reliable dude, but he’d never been strict a day in his life. He’d… half-play at Master Galo, since that’s technically what he was, but given his own abilities, what he’d seen so far, and what he knew of human psychology, keeping things friendly and chill would probably be the best route, especially at the start. He could settle into something more serious as they got to know each other better, and the five of them started to accept that he wouldn’t hurt them, but right now? Right now they’d surely take anything other than 100% happy as a sign of displeasure, and catastrophize accordingly.

Oh… maybe they could help Galo with funeral plans. A way for them to feel helpful and successful, and genuinely so.

Aunty Bethany had more than enough flowers on her estate to bury her in.

Funeral plans: flowers, setup, catering?

Galo wondered what Sasha did all day. Cooking for six surely couldn’t be… that time consuming? Maybe she was just slow.

Ask Nyla how quickly Sasha is able to cook large quantities of food, and if catering is an option

Asking Sasha herself, even if it could be framed as a yes or no question, would probably just give the poor woman the shakes again. 

Galo read over his lists, and felt… better. Like, still garbage, definitely still garbage, but less headachey and less helpless in the face of it all. 

He went back to his apartment, and surveyed his belongings. He’d brought his necessities to his aunt’s--his house the night before, but that still left, like, everything else. Hm. He was rich now. He could hire movers. He could pay people to do this shit for him. But also like… did he need the bed? The couch? No. He had no emotional attachment to most of his furniture, thrifted or found on curbs or given to him by a college roommate, it was mostly just the smaller stuff that was important.

He took some pictures, listed some craigslist ads, and then looked at a couple different moving companies. He skimmed reviews, searching through services that were pricey enough he would’ve once never even glanced at them, searching for people who took their time and packed things sensibly, and carefully. Satisfied, he called up the one he liked best, and scheduled the day after the funeral.

And then, because he was rich as hell now, and he could, he typed out a two-weeks notice and printed it out from his apartment’s printer. He would swing by his work… tomorrow or sometime, and drop this off. It was more of a “Hey I’ll be there next week” notice, since he’d taken this one off for funeral related reasons (and also slave related reasons, he knew now), and if his boss wanted to let him off the same day, he’d absolutely take it. It wasn’t like they were short-handed, at the moment, so Galo very easily could be staring down a very early retirement. He thought again of going back to school, once he sorted out everything with the slaves.

That would be nice.

He packed up his game systems, the book he was in the middle of, and his good luck charm, and left his apartment to head back to his house. He should probably start the process of letting his landlord know he was breaking his lease, and pay that off, but eh. He could do that… later. It was early enough in the month that he had plenty of time.

When he got through the front door (had it been oiled? He remembered it being heavier, the night before) he did a double take at the pile of gaudy garbage he’d made of his aunt’s weird… “art.” It was bigger than the night before.

He squinted down at a little green-red-white-gold “Egyptian” bird statue. He definitely hadn’t seen that the night before, though he couldn’t exactly say he was unhappy to see it in the garbage pile. 

“Welcome home, Master,” Nyla greeted, gliding into the foyer with that unnatural grace of hers. In a different life, maybe she could’ve been a dancer.

“Hi, Nyla. I’m glad you’re here, I wanted--”

Galo cut off when Nyla dropped down to her knees, fluid as silk, cupped Galo’s hand and wrist, and placed a delicate kiss to his palm. Right. Hand kissing was a thing, he should add that to his list. He briefly considered discouraging it, but, well, it was a harmless gesture, and he needed to be careful about picking his battles here at the start.

“Thanks, Nyla,” he said, giving her a little pat to the head. He then extended his hand to her, and said, “I wanted to ask you a couple questions about how things, like, operate around here?” She placed her hand inside his, but when she rose it was weightless, no pressure to his hand in the slightest. Maybe not a dancer, maybe, like, a wraith or something. 

“I would be happy to answer all questions, Master,” Nyla said, her hands clasped neatly in front of her, her smile looking genuine. Galo smiled back; maybe this wouldn’t be so awful after all? “If now is a good time, Master, may I ask you questions as well?” 

“Yeah, yeah, now’s good.” Galo shifted his duffle on his shoulder. “Let me set this stuff down first? Is the living room good for you?”

Nyla bowed a little, eyes lowered deferentially. “The living room is a fine choice, Master. May I assist in carrying anything?”

“No offense,” Galo said, giving her a very brief once over, “but I’m pretty sure I’m better equipped to be carrying heavy shit than you are, Nyla.”

“Of course, Master,” she said, and there was that nervous little twitch, the way she locked up. Nyla was… a very good actor, Galo thought to himself. It would be hard to suss out what was a genuine reaction from her and what she’d been trained to show. Knowing Aunty Bethany, she’d probably told Nyla that girls are prettier when they’re smiling with their mouths shut.

Galo settled his duffle to the side, where hopefully no one would trip over it. He’d unpack it later. “So, Nyla,” he said, sitting down on the weirdly shaped, petite couch-adjacent thing that looked best able to hold Galo’s weight, “what is it you want to know?”

Nyla moved like water over well-worn stones, the way she knelt down at Galo’s feet, shoulder touching the couch lookalike but all of her weight on her ankles. He hoped his brain got over how fluidly she moved soon, because it was gonna get old fast, if he got taken aback every time Nyla did literally anything. Did his aunt insist on this, too? Was this part of what she did to them?

“Master, if I may trouble you for your preferences in meals, I would be grateful.”

“Oh, yeah, here,” Galo pulled a folded up piece of notebook paper from his back pocket and handed it to Nyla. “I mostly just jotted down general ideas and like, overarching stuff I like? Instead of specific meals, but I trust Sasha’s judgement.”

Nyla took the paper in slender fingers (she was too thin; was his aunt responsible for that, too?) and unfolded it with silent delicacy. She read over it briefly, and then refolded it and tucked it into her apron pocket.

“This is perfect, Master, thank you for your thoughtfulness and effort.”

“Yeah, sure. Hey, Nyla,” he said, coaxing and gentle as he could, but it still made her lock up, smile looking fixed, “would you sit with your legs bent in front of you? Like, sit with your butt on the floor and your legs, like, criss-cross-applesauce, but both of your knees facing the same direction. Yeah, like that, and lean your weight against the lip of the couch here--perfect, Nyla, thank you.” Galo smiled at her, glad now that her poor ankles weren’t taking the weight of literally her entire body. “Would you be okay if I touched your hair?”

A moment’s hesitation. “If Master wouldn’t find it troublesome…”

Galo chuckled, just a little, even though his heart ached for her. He placed his palm gently on her head, and pet slowly, carefully down, before repeating the motion. She seemed, at the very least, not to mind it. “What else did you need?”

“At your leisure, Master, would you find time to survey the estate gardens and see if they are to your liking? We will gladly change anything you disapprove of.”

“Oh, yeah, no, I’m sure they look fine, but that’s actually related to one of my questions.”

“Yes Master?” Nyla asked, and Galo would call the tone there eagerness.

“Should Lilah be the gardener? I know she’s not, like, young-young, but I’ve seen some of my aunt’s yardwork equipment and it seems kinda big for someone that small. Especially since she’s, y’know, all injured and stuff.”

“Lilah is the best gardener of the group, Master. I doubt anyone would do as well as she does, and she’s never been injured by any of the equipment, Master. However, if her role displeases you, Master, we will not hesitate to acclimate to your desires.”

So… Auntie Bethany had put each and every bruise and cut on Lilah’s body. It was a hard thought to swallow. “It doesn’t displease me,” Galo said, voice quiet. “If you all think she’s the best fit, you’d know better than me. Please tell her to ask for help if something’s too cumbersome for her, though.”

“Yes Master.”

Galo gave her a little scritch, smiling encouragingly. “What else?”

“Hobbies, Master. I would like to know your routine and hobbies, so that we may best provide for them.”

Galo tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Mistress enjoyed needlework and beading, Master. Her craft room is very full of her supplies, which I regularly stocked. I would delightedly do the same for you, if I knew what your hobbies are.”

“Oh, uh, video games, mostly, which don’t really require… like, physical materials. I like working out, but I’d prefer to go to a gym than have equipment here. It gets me out of bed in the morning, y’know? Um…”

Ha, Galo was a pretty boring person, huh? Working out and gaming, not exactly the most interesting set of hobbies…

“Thank you for informing me, Master. What would you like done with Mistress’s old craft room?”

“Uhh, probably just pack it up. If none of my cousins want it, I’ll drop it by a thrift store or something. Maybe donate it to one of those places that does crafts with kids? I dunno, I’ll find somewhere to donate it.”

“Yes Master, thank you sir.”

“Anything else?” Galo asked. She sounded like she was done but it was better to ask.

“No, Master, thank you for indulging your servant.”

“Uh, hardly an indulgence, Nyla. It’s good for you to ask questions: I don’t know what you don’t know.”

Was that worded weird? It took Nyla a moment to process, it seemed, before she answered back, “Yes Master, I will continue to ask questions, Master.”

“Good girl, Nyla,” Galo said, giving her hair another scritch. “So, hey,” Galo wished he knew how to start sentences without making her stiffen, “does Lilah grow flowers, do you know?”

“Yes, Master, is there a kind you like?”

“Uh, lilies?”

“There are a number of lilies that can be brought into the house for you, Master.”

“Sweet. So this would actually be for Auntie Bethany’s funeral this Saturday, and I would need them in arrangements. Do you think Lilah could make flower arrangements, or would I be better off hiring a professional?”

“Lilah is very competent, Master, and has done well enough to please Mistress for the past few years. She can do a sample arrangement for you, Master, so you may see if her work is to your standards.”

“Sure! Have that be her job for tomorrow. Thanks. And, on the same subject: do you think Sasha would do okay making horderves for the funeral, or should I cater?”

Galo was careful to provide a second option. If he gave a “no” answer, that would make it more okay than telling Galo no unprompted. He was trying, trying his absolute best, to remain delicate here.

“Sasha is quite competent, Master, and I am certain would be relieved to have enough work to keep her so busy. May I know what you would like to serve, so I may order the materials?”

“Yes, but not tonight. I need to call the funeral place again tomorrow morning and get some suggestions. I’ll get that to you then?”

“Thank you, Master. You are generous, sir.”

Galo frowned. That wasn’t generous. It wasn’t anything worth mentioning. But he needed to be clever, redirect Nyla, not shut her down entirely.

“And thank you, Nyla. You’re being a big help.”

He watched her lips part, her chest expand with a breath and then hover, uncertain, but before she could figure out what to say they were interrupted by Greyson very quietly announcing, “Master, dinner is served.”

It was delicious, and this time, Galo asked Greyson to pass along his appreciation to Sasha. He couldn’t avoid her entirely, he knew, that wouldn’t make her any less scared of him, but he could keep things infrequent at the start. After dinner he took a quick jog around the property, amazed once again by the sheer vastness of the garden. Was it fair that only one person, and a little person at that, was in charge of maintaining all this? Galo had second thoughts about Nyla’s advice, but unless he saw Lilah being actively exhausted by the labor, he would follow Nyla’s direction for now. It would be important to show that he valued and trusted the things they said to him. Just not at the expense of anyone’s wellbeing, which he thought a fair compromise.

He looked at Auntie Bethany’s craft room, but was quickly overwhelmed and left. That was a lot of tiny drawers, a lot of baskets of fabric, a lot of embroidery hoops and pincushions and things Galo didn’t even know the names of. Movers. He’d have movers deal with… that.

The pile of weird, gaudy shit had grown even larger. Galo sifted through it, checking that it was indeed all awful, intolerable junk that he wanted gone, and it all was.

Nyla and Evan entered the foyer, each of them on a side of the fugliest imitation Greek statuette Galo had ever seen. Where had Auntie Bethany even kept that?

“Master Galo!” Nyla greeted when she saw him, after setting the statue down. Evan sank fluidly to his knees, head low, while Nyla approached him, hands clasped and smiling wide. “Do all the items present fail to meet your standards, Master?”

“Yeah, yeah they sure do. You guys are doing great,” Galo praised, slowly reaching out and patting Nyla on top of the head. She seemed to like that? He had no way of actually knowing, but he was pretty sure she enjoyed it. “Thanks, Evan, for all your help,” Galo said, approaching him. He extended his hand half-curiously and sure enough, when Evan raised his head he kissed Galo’s palm. Galo smiled at him, admittedly befuddled but, hey, of all the weird habits Auntie Bethany could have and likely did drill into them, this one wasn’t so bad. Carefully, he pat Evan’s head, but retracted his hand when the man went entirely rigid.

“I’ve had a long day,” Galo said, turning back to Nyla. “I’m turning in early. Night.”

“Goodnight, Master Galo,” Nyla and Evan chorused, perfectly in sync.

Galo did not see Nyla standing there, smile unmoving, eyes unblinking, hands clasped so tightly her knuckles turned white. Galo did not witness Evan slowly stand, and place his hand warmly on top of hers. Galo didn’t hear Evan lean in and whisper that Nyla would be alright, that with men it went faster, anyways. Galo did not hear Nyla press a kiss to Evan’s cheek and tell him that she would be fine, yes, and to tell the others that they were done for the day.

Galo did hear her knock on his door while he was pressing his fingers gently into the soil of his potted plant, befuddled by the moisture there, and he did see her enter, her hands smoothing down her apron before she folded them once again in front of her.

“Nyla?” Galo asked, his memories with Greyson the night before vividly returning, sickly aware that this was probably going to be round two. “Why aren’t you in your room?”

Nyla didn’t move, barely twitched, her smile relentless. She took longer to respond, that time, than she had since Galo had arrived. “I watered the plant earlier today, Master,” she blurted, for a certain value of blurted. It was probably blurting, for her.

“You, oh!” Galo turned back to it, cup of water still in his hand, unpoured. “Thank you, Nyla. I appreciate how attentive you are, but please don’t do that anymore.” Galo left the windowsill and placed the cup on the bedside table. He smiled at her, he wasn’t unhappy, he didn’t want her to feel like she’d messed up, he just wanted her to not do it anymore. “I like having something to take care of, okay? Watering my plant is part of my routine. It’s a responsibility I enjoy.”

“Yes Master, I apologize. I will do better, Master.”

“Thank you Nyla,” he said, approaching her very slowly. He wished he hadn’t taken his shirt off already, getting ready to shower. It made this encounter feel even more charged, and that wasn’t exactly something he wanted. “If that’s all, then why don’t you go ahead and go to your room?”

Nyla kept smiling at him, although now it definitely looked forced. “I am here to Attend, Master. My body is present and available for your service and ple--”

“No,” Galo cut her off, raising a hand between them. He was far from her face, but she flinched anyway. Galo took a deep breath. So much of him was screaming, he just wanted to send her away, maybe cry, maybe hit something. He wanted to storm down to the mortician and revive Auntie Bethany so he could strangle her with his own hands. But he needed to address this, as much as he absolutely hated it, because it clearly wasn’t going to go away on its own.

“Nyla,” Galo said, trying very hard to keep his voice even. “What do you mean when you say you’re here to ‘Attend’ me?”

“You may punish me, if you like, Master. Beat me or whip me or slice me as you see fit.”

“You haven’t done anything worth punishing, Nyla,” Galo said, gentle and firm as his nauseous voice could manage.

“If not punishment, then simply a reminder of my place, that I am subservient to you and you are always able to do anything you wish with me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Galo said, hating how this sounded like she was reciting something, like she’d been forced to memorize these words exactly. How could he stop playing into her script? What could he do to break this? But at the same time, he needed to know. He hadn’t known that Auntie Bethany would ‘remind them of their place,’ he hadn’t known that there was some sort of ritualistic punishment. It was almost as bad as--

“Then, of course, you may fuck me, Master. I am,” a hitch of breath that hit Galo like ice in the gut, “open, Master, and available to serve you however you wish.”

Galo reached out a hand and stopped himself, hovering near her cheek. Nyla didn’t like her face touched. He changed course and set his palm on top of her head, staring down at her with an ache inside him.

“I’m not going to rape you, Nyla. I promise, I swear to you.” He gently reached out his other hand and delicately pried her hands apart. She was gripping them hard enough to hide their shaking, but she trembled in his palm. “No more of this, alright? I don’t want you to, to Attend me. Any of you. No more coming to my room at night and offering things, okay?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Will you promise me, for all five of you?”

“Yes, Master. I promise, we will not come to your room at night or,” Nyla licked dry lips, “offer to Attend you any longer.”

“Thank you Nyla,” Galo said, rubbing a thumb over her pale hair. “Now go to bed, alright?”

“Yes Master,” Nyla whispered, and swaned away, light as a ghost.

Next

[ejzah]

14. A/N: And the chapter that many of you have been waiting for. Thanks for patiently waiting for its return and all your kind and supportive comments. I love reading them!

There is a slight bit considerable amount of adult content here.

***

The Agent and the Lawyer, Part 14

“So, where are you taking me?” Kensi asked Deeks as he took her hand and helped her out of his Porsche. She’d nearly drooled when she saw it, the shiny silver finish gleaming under the garage lights. The whole time Deeks was driving, she’d been itching to take a turn behind the wheel.

“It’s a surprise,” Deeks answered with a smug grin. Despite all her pleading and nagging, he’d refused to tell her where they were going for their first date. The only hint he would give was that the restaurant in question required semi-formal dress.

Kensi might have gone a bit overboard on that front, choosing a slim black, knee-length dress with straps that crisscrossed in the back in an intricate design. The fabric clung to her every curve. She’d paired it with simple black stilettos which were worth the pain to see the look on Deeks’ face when he first saw her.

His eyes were on her now as they walked across the street, his gaze clearly appreciative.

“Did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?” Kensi felt her cheeks flush at his compliment and was grateful for the dim light of sunset. Deeks could be especially effusive when he wanted to and it always caught her off guard.

“You did, but I don’t mind reminders. I might have borrowed it from wardrobe, she said, pausing in the middle of the busy sidewalk and turning to face Deeks. She reached out and straightened the collar of his blue button down, taking a long look of her own. “And you look pretty good too.”

She started to drop her hand, but Deeks caught at it, threading his fingers through hers. Again, the casual intimacy surprised her. It was nice though; as much as she wasn’t used to touching someone in a way that didn’t involve a certain amount of violence or practicality.

“Isn’t Hetty super protective of the clothes she gives you?” he asked as they started walking again. “She seemed like she was about to burst a vessel when my blood got all over the shirt I wore undercover.”

“Oh, she is.” It had required no small amount of subterfuge to sneak the dress out and not be caught by Hetty, or anyone else. “But it’s worth it.”

“I’m touched that you would risk Hetty’s wrath for me,” Deeks said as they crossed a street, giving Kensi’s hand another squeeze.

“I’m still not convinced you’re not taking me to Alejandro’s and this isn’t some elaborate scheme to throw me off track,” Kensi said, glancing up at him. His face was highlighted by streetlights and the glow from restaurant windows, but she could see he was smiling.

“Then we would both be wildly overdressed,” Deeks replied, glancing down at her dress again.

“So is this some exclusive four star restaurant that only the rich and famous can get in?” Deeks chuckled at that.

“I would certainly give it four stars, but I don’t know that it’s been given an official rating. You should know by now that I don’t really pay much attention to those kinds of things. Although, I think you’ll be impressed.”

“Mm, I do have high standards,” Kensi agreed. This time Deeks snorted.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you eat pizza we forgot on the counter the next day and twinkies with suspicious best buy dates,” he reminded her.

“That was one time!”

“It’s ok, I still think you’re cute,” he said casually, winking at her. If it was any other guy, Kensi would have punched him by now, but instead she found herself fighting back a grin.

***

“That was the best risotto I’ve ever had,” Kensi told Deeks as a waiter silently removed her plate, the final in a third course meal. As he’d predicted, the meal was excellent. It was a small, intimate restaurant with about 15 tables.

“And you haven’t even had desert yet,” he teased.

“Please tell me they have tiramisu?” she demanded and Deeks grinned at her predictable reaction. She didn’t even care. He knew all about her love of anything sweet and by now she’d gotten over any self-consciousness.

“Yes, they have tiramisu.” Still smiling, he reached out and brushed a curl back from her face. Before he could pull back completely, Kensi slid her fingers through his again. She enjoyed the way his hand easily engulfed hers, always warm and gentle, but capable of so much strength.

“What’s on your mind?” Deeks asked, gazing at her fondly as their waiter discretely placed the promised tiramisu between them and left again.

Deeks had been pretty open as usual, answering most of her questions without hesitation. So far she’d learned several new intriguing facts about him, including that he had several different part time jobs to support himself through college, had gotten into all manner of trouble with his self-described best friend Ray and played the violin.

The last one was particularly intriguing to Kensi and she was already debating how she could convince him to give her a private concert..

“When did you first realize you wanted to be a lawyer?” she asked, resting her chin on her palm. Deeks took a sip of his wine-a Cabernet that was way out of Kensi’s price range-considering her question. She wondered if this was a question he would decide not to answer, which happened every so often when she unwittingly strayed to close to whatever boundaries he kept in place.

He ate a bite of the desert and then pushed the plate closer to her, leaning closer. There was less than a foot between them now, the scent of him, intoxicatingly warm and familiar, drifting across to her. Kensi found it difficulty concentrate on what he was saying.

“I guess the short answer is saw someone I cared about get overlooked by the legal systems. I figured that if I became a lawyer, I could make sure that didn’t happen to anymore people,” Deeks told her with a self-deprecating laugh. “I was a little more idealistic and stupid then.”

“Maybe it is idealistic, but to me it sounds like you just wanted to help people and I can’t fault you for that,” she said, her affection for him nearly overwhelming.

“I feel like you’ve been asking all the questions tonight,” he said, tilting his head at her. Kensi’s eyes dropped to his mouth, the warmth of the wine and his touch making her feel a little reckless.

“Well, I find you very interesting.” Kensi scooted her chair closer, leaning in towards him and kissed his cheek, letting her nose brush across his jaw. It was a fairly innocent touch, but Deeks shivered all the same.

“Agent Blye, are you trying to seduce me?” Deeks asked her. Just in case there was and doubt, she smoothed her hand up his thigh, allowing her fingers to brush along his inseam. She heard his breath catch as she kept her hand in place. Pulling back, she looked him directly in the eye and said,

“Take me home.” Her voice was dark with need and she saw his pupils widen.

He didn’t ask whose home, but tossed his napkin on the table, pausing briefly to discreetly rearrange his pants.

“I’ll go pay our check.”

***

Deeks closed the door behind Kensi, flipping on a light, and turned to her. It had been nearly impossible to keep her hands to herself during the drive back to his house, but she hadn’t wanted to distract him. Her entire body was practically vibrating with desire.

“Do you want-“ he didn’t get a chance to finish his question as she surged towards him, kissing him with everything she had. Deeks made an agreeable sound in the back of his throat, not resisting when she spun them around, pushing him back against a wall. His back hit it a little harder than she’d intended, but Deeks didn’t complain.

Following her lead, Deeks grasped her waist, lifting her up as she wrapped her legs around his hips. She gasped against his mouth, stilling for a second as she was assaulted with sensation.

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” she whispered, yanking his tie loose from his collar. Deeks made a hoarse sound, too busy kissing beneath her jaw to respond.

The top button of his shirt had popped open, revealing a tantalizing patch of his skin. Kensi tugged at the rest of the buttons, her eagerness making her reckless. When she had them all undone, she spread the fabric open, her breath leaving her for a moment.

His skin was golden and warm, stretched over perfectly formed muscles. She’d spent many hours imagining Deeks without a shirt on and reality was even better. She smoothed her hands down his chest, pausing at his abs. She explored the hard plane, her fingertips brushing over each muscle.

Deeks must have liked what she was doing because he slid his hands down her butt and gripped her thighs. Hard. Wherever he touched left a fiery imprint which only increased the overwhelming desire running through her body.

Kensi bucked against Deeks, needing to feel more, to feel him. His erection pressed into her thigh, just missing where she wanted him most.

Deeks’ smoothed the dress up her thighs, the fabric bunching up before it reached her hips.

“I know I said I liked this dress before,” Deeks said, panting lightly. “But, mmm” he paused to nip at her collar bone. “I really hate it right now.”

Laughing breathlessly at the sincerity in his voice, Kensi curled her finger in his hair as he kissed the top of one breast.

“Rip it,” she told him, just as desperate to get the stupid thing off.

“What will Hetty say?” Deeks asked. It surprised her that he could even think of something like that right now. All her attention was on his hands and mouth and other unclothed parts of him.

“I don’t care. She can dock my pay.” Deeks took her at her word, tugging more insistently at the dress with one hand while other eased the fabric away from one breast.

A sudden loud and unwanted ringing filled the air and Kensi bit out a harsh expletive. Deeks slowly lifted his head, looking very reluctant to stop.

“It’s my phone,” she said unnecessarily, still clinging to Deeks. God, he looked absolutely delicious; his lips slightly swollen and hair completely wrecked. For a moment, Kensi actually considered ignoring the call. At the rate they were going, it wouldn’t take more than a few minutes to finish.

But she didn’t want there first time to be rushed. She wanted to spend the whole night with Deeks and take all the time she wanted. With a resigned sigh, she loosened her hold on his hair, starting to lower her legs. Looking equally disappointed, Deeks helped her down.

Moving on slightly unsteady legs, she went in search of her purse. She didn’t remember dropping it anywhere, but found it near the door and grabbed her phone which showed a missed call and a text from Eric.

“Everything ok?” Deeks asked, coming up behind her. Even with a few inches between them, his presence was still overwhelming and Kensi held back a shiver of need.

“Yeah, it’s just-ok, you need to put a shirt on.” She’d turned around to find Deeks’ chest directly at eye level, seeming to taunt her. Against her will, her eyes dropped down to his waist and then lower. There was still a definite bulge tenting the front of his jeans.

Rolling his eyes, but looking vaguely pleased, he retrieved his shirt and slipped it on. He didn’t button it though, which was almost worse. Kensi tried to straighten her dress, but she was pretty sure she looked exactly like someone who’d been making out against a wall.

Deeks checked his own phone, which he’d apparently put on vibrate and made a face.

“I got a call too. This sucks,” he said, sighing and ruffling his hair. It only made it worse and Kensi smirked at him, walking over to him. She pulled his hand away and started separating the strands into his normal style.

“I need to go home,” she said, leaning in to kiss him. Deeks held her against him for a moment before he let go and she reluctantly stepped back. “I’ll see you at work. And we will finish this.”

Deeks managed a small grin at that and nodded.

“I’m counting on it.”

***

A/N: Please don’t hate me

[avengerscompound]

That Kid You Knew - Chapter 6

That Kid You Knew: An Iron Man Fanfic

Masterlist Previous //

Buy me a ☕ Square:  @marvelfluffbingo - Free Space

Warning:  Smut (Oral sex, vaginal sex)

Word Count:  2725

Pairing:  Tony Stark x F!Reader

Summary:  You had grown up knowing Tony Stark but as you’d gotten older you’d lost track of him.  When you see him at a party you have a drug-fueled one-night-stand with him.

10 years later he finds you again and has to come to terms with the fact he’s been a father all the time.

Chapter 6

All the first dates you’d had up until now had taken a similar route.  You’d spend a few hours alone, getting ready.  The guy would show up while you were almost but not quite ready.  He’d take you somewhere.  Dinner maybe.  A club.  Often it was to the movies.  Then you’d come home.  If it went well, there might be making out or even sex.  If not, you’d give them the awkward hug and head inside alone.

That was a long time ago.  Back then you didn’t have a kid.  You were just a single woman with no one relying on you.  You went to work, and when there was fun to be had you had it.  Things were very different now.  Now you had a career.  You had a son.  Also, your date was starting by getting home late from work to find the man you were seeing, playing ball in the yard with your son.  His son.

His jacket was draped over the back of one of your garden chairs and there was some kind of bot involved as the two of them charged around the yard.  You weren’t quite sure which of them looked more delighted.  When Tony saw you, he smiled.

“You’re late!”

“Work.  How’d everything go?”

“Good.  I like this whole, ‘picking my kid up from school thing’.”  He said and tossed the ball.  The droid swooped in and caught it and then flew off.

“Dad!”  Owen whined, taking off after it as it zoomed around the fence line.

Tony came over to you and kissed your cheek.  “Are you going to get ready?”

You leaned in against him and inhaled.  He was sweaty and still running quite warm and he smelled good.  Earthy and salty.  With the woody and floral undertones of his cologne underlying it.  You wrapped your arms around his waist and he kissed you on top of the head as he closed his arms around you.  “Did you just sniff me?”

“Mm-hmm.”  You hummed.  “You smell so good.”

He gave you a squeeze and let you go, smacking your ass.  “Go get ready.”

“You go get ready,”  You countered.

“I will.  I was waiting for you to get back.”  He said.  “Did you want me to take Owen over to your mom’s place on the way?”

You leaned up and kissed him again.  Despite the fact you hadn’t actually been on a date with Tony yet, you had already fallen into a casual familiarity.  He didn’t sleep over but when he was around, the two of you touched in that unconscious, incidental way.  Bushing your hands over each other as you passed in the hall.  Quick stolen kisses in the kitchen while you cooked.  Standing together like this, just leaning on him, and if you felt like it, kissing.  It had been a long time since you’d had this with anyone.  You’re not quite sure if you’d ever really had this with anyone.

Tony never stayed the night but he was around a lot.  Your house was mostly unpacked because he’d ended up paying people to come and do it and while they did he spent time with you and Owen.  He started picking up Owen every day from school and he’d be here waiting for you.  You’d have dinner as a family.  He’d help Owen with his homework and then send him off to bed.  When you knew he was asleep he’d come to the couch and the two of you would make out.  He never pushed you for more.  He seemed quite comfortable with taking it slow like you’d asked.  Which was odd, because… well, he was Tony Stark.

You weren't so sure about the whole taking it slow thing anymore.  He felt so right.  More right than any decision you had made up until this point.  He was fun to be around.  He was patient and kind with Owen.  He was Owen’s dad.

It also didn't help that he was extremely easy on the eyes.  All he had to do was smile at you the right way and your panties would disintegrate.

“If you don't mind,” you said.  “Owen! Come give me a kiss hello and then grab your stuff so your dad can take you to grandma’s!”

Owen ran over and you hugged and kissed him.  “How was school?”

“Fine.”

“Nothing to report?”

“Nope.  I’ll go get my things.”  He said and ran inside.

“Like drawing blood from a stone sometimes, I swear.” You joked. 

Tony chuckled and wrapped you in his arms.  Owen had been delighted to find out that you and Tony were seeing each other. He had big plans for a wedding already, despite the fact you and Tony weren’t even sure if either of you were the marrying types.  Of the list of things you were worried about regarding ‘dating Tony Stark’ was concerned the biggest wasn’t the celebrity part, it was worrying that you were doing all this for Owen’s sake, and how badly he’d take it if it didn’t work out.

Tony cupped you jaw and leaned in, kissing you slowly.  His tongue just barely teased over yours.  When he broke the kiss he leaned his forehead on yours and stroked his thumb along your jaw.  “Don’t tell anyone, but I might be falling for you.”  He whispered.

“Mmm… me too,”  you breathed.

“So, tell me,”  He whispered,  his forehead still pressed against yours.  “Are you the kind of woman who puts out on a first date?”

You started giggling and pinched his side.  “That’s not very romantic.” You said and headed inside.

He slapped your ass as you turned away from him.  “I’m very romantic.”

After Tony took Owen, you went upstairs to get ready.  You dressed in something flirty and colorful and matched your makeup to match it. The pair of shoes you chose fit somewhere on that line between pretty and comfortable.

Tony returned an hour and a half later.  Normally he just let himself in but tonight he rang the doorbell.  You answered it to find him dressed in a three-piece suit.  It was light gray with a purple tie and tailored to fit him exactly.  He smiled at you and held up a bouquet of red roses.

“Aww,”  You teased as you took them.  “You really are a romantic.”

“Told you,”  He joked and kissed your cheek.

You took the flowers inside and put them in the only vase you own.  It’s a little too small for them but you jammed them in as best you could.

“Looks good,”  Tony teased as you put them on the kitchen table.

“Gee thanks,”  You said.

He laughed and took your hand.  “Come on.  We have a date to go on.”

He drove you to a little Italian Restaurant in Brooklyn.  You’d never been there before but apparently, he had because he went in through the back entrance through the kitchen and some of the people greeted him by name.

“Mr. Stark, so pleased to see you again!”  The chef said.  He turned and looked you over appreciatively.  “Your date is beautiful.”

Before you can even thank him he calls to a waiter and you’re led to a quiet booth in the back of the restaurant, a bottle of red wine as well as a jug of water and left without either of you ordering a thing.

“So, come here often?”  You smirked.

Tony laughed and poured you a glass of the red.  “I wouldn’t say a lot.  But it is good food and they don’t make a scene of me being here.  I tip large.  It works for me.”

“That’s good.  I gotta say, I’m scared of the being spotted out thing.  People are already so mean to me.  They all hate me for what I did.”  You said frowning.

Tony sighed and took both your hands in his, holding them up to his lips.  “They don’t know you.  They don’t even know me.  They just think they do.  They see you as competition in a race they aren’t entered in.”

“That’s not just it though.  They hate that I hurt you.  And I did.  I did hurt you, Tony.”  You argued.

He let out a breath.  “When I found out about Owen it felt like you ripped my heart out.  It hurt.  But the truth is, it was more like, you made me aware that I had a heart in the first place.”

You smiled and stroked your thumb along his jaw.  “You have a heart?”

He laughed and shook his head.  “You’re such a little shit.  What do you think this is for?”  He said tapping his arc reactor.

“Aesthetics?”

He roared with laughter and kissed your hands.  “I love you.  Both of you.  Don’t read what they say about you, they don’t know shit.”

You took a breath and nodded.  “Really?”

“Really.”

You picked up the menu and opened it.  “You keep saying you love me.”

Tony laughed.  “Thought I might get that one as a freebie.”

“I can pretend it didn’t happen if you want me to.”  You said, gazing at him over the top of the menu.

He picked up his menu and shook his head.  “No, it’s good you know.  I don’t use those words enough, even when I do mean them.  I think … They have power.  You hand them to the wrong person and they can use them to hurt you.  Or at least that’s been my experience.”  He said.  “You don’t need to… anything really… It’s soon.  But I need to grow up.  Let people have access to that part of me.”

You put down your menu and pushed his to the table, he tilted his head looking at you and you leaned over the table and kissed him.  He smiled into it and caressed your jaw.  When you pulled back you picked up the menu and went back to browsing.

“If I knew saying how I felt led to that, I would have done it sooner.”  He joked.

“Tony… I -” 

He waved you off.  “It’s fine.  It’s too soon.  I know it is.  I just do.  So… let’s not make a big deal about it.”  He said waving his hands around, indicating his story had reached its conclusion.

The waitress came over and took your order.  When she left Tony reached over the table and took our hand.

“Why me, Tony?”  You asked, looking up at him.  “You’re Tony Stark.  You have people fantasizing about you day and night.  Thousands of people. You had strings of people who you would bring home.  You could have just about anyone.  Why me?”

He laughed, but there was no humor to it.  “Yeah… anyone.  That’s why I’m single in my forties.”

“Sorry,”  You said sheepishly.

He shook his head.  “It’s fine.  I get it.”  He let out a breath and his hand went to his glasses before dropping it.  “I think it’s me.  I’m broken.  My dad couldn’t even tell me he loved me.  I’m unlovable.”

“Tony, you’re not -”

He held up his hand.  “Hey, you asked the question.  Let me give you the answer.”  He said.  “So, I push people away.  Even the one time I had … something… it’s not easy being with me.  I get caught up with work a lot.  I’m never around.  There’s the whole Iron Man, Avengers stuff that will keep you awake at night.  I think that’s what killed the last one.  It’s hard to be sure.  Then there’s the rumor mill.  I’m dating Nat.  I’m dating Cap.  I’m on drugs.  I’m bringing home sex workers.  I have all the STDs.  It’s a lot.  I’m a lot.”  He slid around the booth and put his arm around your shoulders.  “Can I ask you something?  When was the last time you did something - made a decision relating to your life - where you didn’t think about how it would affect someone else?  Where you just went; I want to do that for me?”

You sighed and leaned into him.  “It was that night, Tony.  I haven’t done anything that I haven’t thought about how it might at least affect Owen since I got high and had sex with you.”

“Even now… when you question how the public sees you, are you worried about you being hurt by that or me?”  He asked.

“I’m worried about you.  You’re the one that has to field questions from the press.”  You answered.  “You’re the one with the fans.”

His hand went to your jaw and he stroked his thumb over your cheek.  “You are so selfless.  You never take shit from anyone, but somehow you just keep giving and giving of yourself.  Maybe it’s time to do something you want to do.”

You leaned in and kissed him, wrapping his arms around your neck and relaxing into it.  You ran your tongue over the corner of his lips and he brought his tongue to meet yours, circling them together.

That’s how you stayed until the waitress brought you your food.  After dinner, you and Tony when to see a movie.  It was an exclusive little cinema, with only ten sets of paired off electric recliners and waitstaff to bring you drinks and food throughout the film.  You ordered a ‘death by chocolate’ dessert plate to share along with a cosmo for you and a single malt scotch for him.  About halfway through, you moved from your recliner to his, squeezing in beside him and resting your head on his chest.  He trailed his fingers up and down your side.

When he took you home he walked you to your door and you pulled your keys out to let yourself in.

“What, no goodbye kiss?”  He asked as he watched you fumble with the lock.

 “Wouldn’t that happen tomorrow?”  You smirked.

His face lit up and he spun you into his arms.  “On the first date?  Man, you do put out easy.”

“I thought that was a well-established fact,” you teased.  “But by all means, you’re free to say no.”

He chuckled and you started walking backward, leading Tony into your house.  He kicked the door closed behind him and lifted you.  You wrapped your legs around him and you frantically kissed as he carried you to your bedroom.  He bumped into a small set of shelves and a decorative table as he moved down the hall.

When he got to the bedroom he pushed you against the wall and slowly let you slip to the floor as you kissed frantically. You bit his bottom lip and he growled deep in the back of his throat.

His hand slid over your jaw and down your neck.  The way they felt against you made your skin feel warm and yet you broke out in goosebumps in the wake of his fingers.  They moved down your back and unzipped your dress.  He pulled back from you, breaking the kiss.  You looked up at him and let out a shuddering breath.  His eyes were clouded with lust and his lips were slightly pink and swollen.  He ran his tongue over his top lip and slowly slid his hands down your arms, pushing the straps of your dress down before them.

Despite how hot you feel a shiver ran through you as your dress slipped to the ground and pooled around your feet.

“Tony…”  You breathed, reaching up and beginning to unbutton his shirt.

“Mmm?”  He hummed as his fingertips trailed over the line between the lace of your bra and your skin.

“I feel like an idiot.  Because I love you too.  Did I waste 10 years? Could we have been a family back then?”

He nuzzled against your cheek, his beard scratching your skin.  “No,” he whispered.  “You were right.  The man I was then.  He’s not who I am now.”

“You reached the bottom of the buttons of pushed his shirt off.  It fell near your dress and you start to kiss down his chest as you unfasten his belt.  You kiss near the arc reactor, your lips grazing over the scarring.  He hadn’t had the arc when you last saw him, and you could feel the way his ribs had been carved away to house it.

He groaned and his head fall back as your mouth moved along his ribcage and you flicked your tongue over his nipple.  When you worked his belt off he lifted you for a second spinning you around and putting you back on the ground. You backed slowly towards the bed, both of you shedding clothes as with each step.  Your shoes.  Your bra.  His pants and socks.  Finally, you both dropped your underwear and he lifted you and sat you on the end of the bed.

You looked up at him as he stood in front of you, his cock rock hard before him.  You took it in your hand and pumped it a couple of times before leaning forward and running your tongue up its length.  He moaned and you swirled your tongue over the head as you gazed up at him.

A smile played over your lips and you started to suck.  Just the head first, using a lot of suction and hollowing your cheeks before lapping your tongue over it.  Tony let out a hiss and his hands bunched in your hair.  You took him deep in the back of your throat and curled your tongue around his shaft.

Tony’s hips moved a little, just a gentle roll that never pushed him further than you could take.  You squeezed his ass cheeks and teased your fingers over his asshole.  He groaned loudly and his head fell back.

You found yourself really enjoying yourself.  The way his cock felt in your mouth.  The taste of his precome as it dripped on your tongue. The soft groans and whimpers he made.

Your impatience to have him inside of you overwrote how much you were enjoying sucking his dick.  It had been so long since you’d had sex, you wanted him, needed him desperately. You let him go and he immediately dropped to his knees and pulled you to the edge of the bed.  He put your knees over your shoulders and began to kiss the inside of your thighs.  He was gentle at first but was soon sucking hard enough to leave a trail of bruises to your pussy.

He placed a large open-mouthed kiss on your cunt.  He sucked on your folds and slowly pulled back making you gasp and arch up off the mattress.  He smirked at you and flattened his tongue, licking up your folds and teasing it over your clit.

Your whole body buzzed like a live wire and you squirmed under him.  “Tony, please,”  You pleaded.  “I need you.”

Tony chuckled and focused his tongue on your clit.  He flicked his tongue over it before sucking it into his mouth.  You keened and arched up again.  He plunged two of his fingers into our cunt and you squeezed around them in shock.

He hummed against your clit as you twisted under him.  He held you down, pushing down on your hip to keep you in place as his fingers touched down on your g-spot. You cried out and bucked up against him, clutching at your sheets.  He focused on that spot, pressing and dragging his fingers over it again and again as he sucked on your clit.

You started panting and chanting the word ‘fuck’ under your breath.  Tony held you in place as he dragged your orgasm out of you.  You could feel the pressure of it running through you.  When it broke your whole body spasmed with it.

Tony stroked you through your orgasm.  When he got up off the floor he smiled down at you with glistening lips.  He collected his pants up off the floor and you sat up and watched as he pulled his wallet out and took out a condom.

“Good thinking.”  You teased.

He laughed and climbed into bed, sitting up against the headboard.  “I do like to learn from my mistakes.”  He said as he rolled the condom on and offered you his hand.  “Though the more time passes, the more I realize that might have been the best mistake I’ve ever made.”

You let him guide you over his lap and he pulled his legs up behind you.  You sunk down in his lap, guiding his cock inside of you.  “You old softie,”  You hummed as his cock stretched and filled you.

You started to rock against him.  He wrapped his arms around you and held one hand on your neck and the other at the small of your back.  You started kissing him, tasting yourself on his lips.  You tried to go slow, making this about that first-time connection between two people.  The concept went right out the window almost immediately.  You became frantic, kissing each other desperately.  Pulling hair.  Bouncing hard on his lap.

You came again and your legs shaking with it.  He pushed you back, putting your feet up on his shoulders as your orgasm still quakes through you.  He started fucking hard into you.  You stretched your arms up over your head and clutch at the sheets as your back curves away from the mattress.  “Fuck!  Yes!  Fuck me hard!”  You cried.

He pounded into you.  His eyes locked with yours as he held your hips with one hand, digging his fingers into your flesh.  His other hand he used to rub your clit hard and fast.  Another orgasm took hold of you and as you came, Tony did too.  He grunted as he spilled inside you.

You let your legs slip down and he leaned over and kissed you.  “I love you,” he breathed.

“I love you too, Tony.”  You replied, pulling him down against you and kissing him hard.

He slipped from within you and you both got up to clean up a little and get ready for bed.  When you were back under the covers he wrapped you in his arms.  “Do you think I could start sleeping over more regularly?  I kind of want to do the morning rush?”

You sighed happily.  The thought of you actually getting to be a family made you feel warm inside.  “Yeah.  I’d like that.”

// NEXT

[baekterflyeffect]

something unforgettable / one

a vacation trip to a small island shouldn’t have meant something more than a way to clear your head from the stress and busyness of the polluted city. it all changed when you met a surfer that was so keen and persuasive to each you how to surf. not only he was able to make you surf in a short amount of time, he also was able to let your heart be freed to the oceans for him to catch.

characters: byun baekhyun x you au(s): surfer!au, summer fling!au genre(s): romance, fluff, slight angst, slight slice of life. a/n: a quick three-shots fic for @kamikoy :) + also this chapter is unedited, expect grammatical errors.

something unforgettable masterlist

A smile stretched on your lips as you felt the soft sand on your bare feet, feeling content with where you are now; a small island that you couldn’t remember what it’s called. The visit to the island hadn’t been planned thoroughly, all you knew was that your savings are enough to last you a month in this island. You were blessed that you found a good stay-in with reasonable price.

The life in the city have been too rough for you. Too demanding that you decided to resign from your work. Your parents are certainly not happy with your decision, telling you that you just wasted a good promotion as you have been working with the company for three years. But you badly need an escape, badly need to know that your life actually worth something more than just work and money. 

You heaved out a heavy sigh, gazing at the sky that was painted with hues of orange that indicated the sun is going down; a sight that you aren’t able to get if you were in the city as the tall buildings covered it. 

Shifting your eyes to gaze at the sea, you couldn’t help but to spot a guy. He was clad in a swimming suit, the clothing hugging his body that showed his muscle and it lets your mind wonder how it would look like uncovered. It amazed you when he goes through the waves of the water with his surfboard, surfacing above it right before your eyes. You knew you’re mesmerized by him in an instance.

His black hair sticking to his face and soon his eyes catch yours, making your cheeks heated. He gave you a slight smirk but it was washed away literally when a big wave hits him making him stumble off his surfboard. You couldn’t help but to laugh at it, your feet unconsciously bringing you close towards the beach until the small wave of water hits your ankle. The man that you had been staring at surfaced, his arms was placed on his surfboard and you are able to get a clear sight of his arm muscles underneath his swim suit. 

You assumed he was crinkling his eyes and scrunching his nose at you when he spotted you again, making you smile at him. Soon, you find him standing right in front of you, his surfboard placed by his side. Letting you able to see beads of water falling down from his hair to his face, you never want to wipe someone’s face dry so badly in your life. 

“Hey,” you started slowly as you look up to find his eyes, realizing that his eyes hold way too many stars for you to count, “sorry for shamelessly looking at you.” Said you accompanied with a sheepish smile. He just laughed, sounding so out of breath that you found it attractive. 

“It’s fine, it’s not everyday that a beautiful  girl caught staring at me.” He was playful with his words, by now you know that you were blushing because of him. 

“That is a lie, with how attractive you are people must have been looking at you.” You stated, you didn’t meant for a hint of jealousy to show, but you realized it did when he raised an eyebrow at you. 

“Well, don’t be jealous, sweetheart. As I said, not everyday a beautiful girl stared at me. If you get the hint.” He said nonchalantly. 

Oh. Now you get the hint. He was not implying that nobody stared at him; but he was implying that you were beautiful. Nobody ever called you beautiful, sure, more often than not people called you pretty. But never beautiful. 

“Shut up.” You managed to say, pursing your lips at him due to embarrassment. He just laughed, again sounding so out of breath. 

“Anyways, my name is Baekhyun. You are?” 

Baekhyun. You tried to call out to his name, and the way his name rolled out your tongue sounded perfect. Telling him your name, you couldn’t help but to feel your blood rushing to your cheeks at what he said. “Beautiful girl with a beautiful name. Fitting.” 

There was a comfortable silence after the short introductory as Baekhyun was running his fingers through his hair, brushing the fringe off his face to let you see his forehead. God must have took their time in sculpting Baekhyun, because his face structure is perfect. It was sharp, yet it still have some soft edges due to his full cheeks that reminded you of a mochi.

“So,” he started, giving you a toothy grin, “I know it’s too soon but time is not limitless in here. Care to have dinner with me?” His last sentence hits you, as if he was saying that you could be leaving anytime soon because he knew you were not from here. You nodded your head, agreeing to his offer.

“But, isn’t it uncomfortable to have dinner while being… wet?” 

He was laughing again, and you are not going to complain about it with how his laugh is a music to your ears. “I have spare clothes and I usually wash up after I get my dinner. I can change my pants later at the restaurant.” Baekhyun said as he took his surfboard with him, walking ahead of you to palm tree where he put his belongings. You hadn’t noticed it. 

You sighed exasperatedly when Baekhyun nonchalantly took off his swim suit, you knew for most guys they did not care about going shirtless out in the open, moreover the both of you are on a beach. Halting your complain, you only let your mouth set ajar at the sight of his bare upper body. Baekhyun, is in no shape of being ripped like most guys you knew. He sure does have muscles adorning his body and his chest, his fucking chest is not letting you shift away your gaze. 

The faint hint of his abs are the one who gave it away. You have always preferred a healthy guy with a good body, and Baekhyun is definitely one with his broad shoulders and small waist. Hourglass figure, you thought to yourself. 

“Done staring?” Baekhyun said. You noticed he took out something that glimmered under the setting sky, realizing it was a wristwatch when he slipped it to his wrist, gently clasping it there. Noticing how beautiful and slender his fingers are when he wrapped it around its wrist to fix the position of the watch. 

You once again blushed, being caught staring, no, ogling at some guy’s body has never been a part of your life. You didn’t even noticed that he now was wearing a tight fit t-shirt that let his pectoralis shown underneath it. Fuck breathing, really. 

“Shut up, please, let me enjoy what I have given.” 

Baekhyun shook his head as he laughed at you, making you smile at him. He guided you to what he claimed to be favorite restaurant, being able to see why as you were greeted by the wooden interior and lights decorating the pillars. It was also an open restaurant, letting people who eat there enjoy the breeze of the sea. 

He chose a table where it was located next to a wooden railing, letting you able to see the calming sea. You assumed he knew most people who lived here seeing how comfortable he was with one of the waiters. Tuning out their conversations after you told him what you were going to order, focusing on the calming sight of the waves hitting the shore.

“Proper introduction?” Baekhyun said to catch your attention, you turn your head to look at him who now have his elbow propped on the table, his chin resting on his palm. 

“Sure. You first.” 

“Let’s see,” Baekhyun pursed his lips slightly as if he was thinking hard, “my name is Byun Baekhyun. I turned thirty three months ago, and I love surfing.” 

Your eyes widened when he told you his age, you clearly did not expect him to be in his thirties with how young he looked. Even worse, you assumed him to be in his early twenty’s before. He looked at you with an amused smile, knowing you didn’t expect him to be thirty. 

“You looked shocked, how old are you?” He questioned.

“Mm, I’m turning twenty seven this year, right before the new year strikes. And I love the beach, I guess?” 

You realized you were being vague with your personal life, thinking it was not an important detail to be said so early. He nodded his head at you. “Only three years younger than me, I love hanging out with old people.” 

“Are you saying I am old?!” You squeaked. 

“Well, I am old.” 

“Okay, you are right. You are old. A hag.” He faked an offended face, putting his palm where his heart was located.

“That hurts.” 

You just laugh at his behavior. Soon the food you both ordered come, the scent of it filling up your nostrills in a good way. Baekhyun ushered you to try the food, his eyes not leaving you until you gulp down the food. 

“How is it?” He asked, eyes glimmered in expecations. 

“I can see why this restaurant is your favorite.” You gave him a satisfied smile with two thumbs up. He just grin, content with your words.

The dinner was eventful, filled with you learning more about his quirks, and him learning about you. He was a total gentleman when he walked you to the place you rent, not forgetting to get your number before he left. A promise of spending time together more in the future leave his lips, and you couldn’t wait to spend more time together with him. Soon. 

[xfanfics]

Destiel Fic Rec List Part 1

Last Updated in October 2014. Posted in May 2020 for posterity. Listed in no particular order - the total rec list will have ~250 fics. Header graphic used with permission.

This part of the list contains: 48 fics.

Other Destiel Rec Lists: [1]. [2]. [3]. [4]. [5]. [6]. [7].

For Science! by pm_lo E | 21k | ABO, Omega!cas, Alpha!Dean,

Selected transcripts and supporting materials from Dr. Castiel Williams and Dean Winchester’s seminal study on physiological and psychological sexual response by gender designation.

Even though this is a dialogue/email text only story, I still very much enjoyed it and found it ridiculously hot. Maybe I'm just easy. (No I'm not. This fic is good, read it.)

Forget-Me-Not Blues by noangelsinthegarrison E | 68k | Firefighter!Dean, Professor!Cas, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining

Sam and Jess are getting married and Dean couldn’t be any happier for them. Honestly, they’re kind of disgustingly perfect for each other and Dean’s pretty damn excited about staying with them the week before the wedding. He’s Sam’s best man, of course, and he doesn’t even mind that Jess has her own best man to share in all the organizational duties. The more the merrier, right? Except Dean must have done something to epically piss off the universe because Jess’s best man just happens to be Castiel friggin’ Novak. He’s got even hotter since High School, but apparently no friendlier and if Cas wants to spend the week pretending like they’ve never met before? Fine. Two can play at that game.

THIS WAS SO GOOD I'M TEARING UP. tropes abound and I love it!

Cops and Robbers by kinkstiel E | 53k [WIP] | Detective!Dean, Criminal!Cas, Top!Cas, Bottom!dean

They locked eyes for a minute and then Cas leaned back as far as the cuffs would let him go, spreading his legs obscenely wide. “I want you to suck my cock, Dean.” Dean balked, mouth going dry in a second, eyes slipping to the now visible bulge in Castiel’s suit pants. “Um,” he said stupidly, face flushing red, eyes unable to pull away. Cas hummed. “Depending on how well you suck me, I might just tell you everything you want to know.” He licked his lips, smirking slightly when he caught Dean’s gaze. “And with sinful little lips like yours,” he made a low whistling sound, “I don’t doubt you’ll get every last name out of me.

So very good. Love the dark and dirtiness of it. It does get lighter and sappier towards the end tho.

Cursed or Not ❤ by Ltleflrt E | 115k | witch!Cas, shapeshifter!Dean, switching

While experimenting with magic when he was a kid, Sam accidentally cursed Dean. Now, Dean is forced to wear a spelled amulet constantly, or he'll turn into a random animal. For a little over a decade, he's learned to live with the curse, and has even found it useful in some cases, but he sure would be happier without it. When he meets a witch named Castiel, he's offered a deal. Instead of assuming all witches are bad, Dean can spend a season getting to know him. If at the end of the season, Dean still thinks he's evil Castiel will send him away with his memory wiped of the whole experience. But if he learns that Castiel is not the monster Dean assumes he is, he'll lift Dean's curse. It's an offer Dean can't bring himself to pass up.

Literally perfect. Enthralling world, magical relationship.    

Surprise Package by wannaliveindeansdimples E | 3k | Hot, , Dom Cas, Sub Dean, Light BDSM

When Cas' roommate Meg has to go out of town suddenly, she leaves him an unexpected gift.

So so hot. Non extreme Dom!cas and sub!dean.    

Never Have I ever by sweetdean M | 78k | Fluff,  High School AU, top!cas, bottom!dean

When Jo drags Dean along to a game of "never have I ever" with her friends, he finds himself getting caught up in a lot more than just a game. “Never have I ever hung out with such an asshole,” Dean countered, positively shocked at his own sass. Cas smirked again. “Oh, are we hanging out now?fricken adorable  

Road Signs by gemmiel E | 9k| Canon!verse, true form

Dean is curious about how angels have sex. Castiel shows him.

Damn. True form, soul sex, and regular sex. Yes please.    

It's Brilliant, Really by snarkymonkey E | 15k | Fluff,  AU, Professor!cas, Stuntman!dean

Castiel Novak is a History adjunct at Stanford University. He's also the most patient younger brother. When his older brother, Gabriel, decides to start *wooing* one of his younger waiters, Castiel reluctantly agrees to double-date with the intended paramour's older brother. What he didn't expect, however, was how much his own life would flip over such a careless decision.

Adorable. Hot, and adorable.  

Gabriel's Unfortunate Mistake by JackHawksmoor E | 8k | Hot,  AU

an answer to a prompt: Gabriel decides to hire a prostitute for his virgin brother Castiel as a joke, but instead accidentally hires Dean, a professional Dom. The moment Dean first lays a hand on him, Castiel knows he is lost. Dean/Castiel AU.

Um mm.... Damn. That was hot. Newbie sub!cas and pro dom!dean    

Well-Beloved Unto Me by  Moorishflower E | 3k | Alt!Canon, tentacles

The Winchesters don't get rewarded for all the shit they go through, so Dean is understandably wary when a few recharged and promoted angels offer him and Sam the vacation of a lifetime. Title comes from the Song of Solomon.

True form. And sex. MY FAVE.  

How to Date an Angel in 12 Easy Steps by Fourthduckling E | 23k | Fluff,  Alt!canon

It's not that hard to date an angel. All Dean has to do is fight off hordes of vampires, research gay porn, get sucked into a crappy Narnia, endure Sam's comments, creep out on Dr. Sexy, get harassed -- oh, and that's right-- figure out he's into Cas. Easy, right?

SQUUEEEE. Perfect and cute and cuddly.  

Two Wrongs Don't Make A Right But Three Rights Make A Left by the0voice0from0above E | 45k | High School AU, Dancer!Cas, Welder!Dean,

The beautiful Garrison Ballet School becomes home to a reckless bunch of misfits after the Colt Welding Academy is severely damaged in a fire and has to close for repairs. Needless to say, Castiel and his friends clash with their unwanted guests but there's one boy in particular who infuriates him.

Dancer!au. Love it love it love it!    

Rest My Angel by cobalt_wings E | 86k | Fluff,  Season 9 AU

Angels are falling from the sky, and Dean is losing it. Sam is dying in his arms, and one of those burning, twisting figures blazing through the night air might be his very own angel, Castiel. What can he do to help those he loves?

Sex and domestic and lots of fucking. My fave.    

One Species Too Many by wallmakerrelict E | 21k | Fluff,  Alt!canon

While Dean is laid up for a month after breaking his leg on a hunt, Cas decides that it's a perfect time to adopt a litter of kittens. But even though he's gotten better since Purgatory, Cas still isn't quite the same as he was before fixing Sam's head, and being trapped in a cabin with him for weeks on end is making that all the more obvious to Dean. When Sam takes off on a hunt, Dean has to figure out on his own how to navigate his new relationship with Cas while also helping to raise a bunch of fuzzballs that aren't even cute. Not even a little bit. (Well, maybe a little bit.)

Team free will with kittens!! So fluffy and domestic but also a touch of angst.    

It's A Bet by vitamindesi E | 34k | College AU, top!cas, bottom!dean

Destiel College!AU in which freshman Dean is dared by his best friends to hit on senior Castiel at a party. He wants to say no but then someone starts a bet and Benny bets a sum that is ridiculously high for a student and Dean can’t disappoint Benny, right? I deviated only, but hopefully it suffices.

So fabulous and smutty I want to cry. Literally perfection.

Your Call Cannot Be Completed As Dialed by eBob, K_K_TiBal T | 66k [WIP] | Fluff,  College AU

AU in which Castiel accidentally sends a text message to the wrong number and befriends the person at the other end of the line. However, accidents don’t just happen accidentally, and sometimes two completely different people are exactly what the other needs.

LITERALLY THE BEST. So many feelings. I WANT IT TO BE COMPLETE SO MUCH. Abandoned WIP.    

Equinox by luchia E  | 12k | Alt!canon, time travel

In which Castiel is the weird time-traveling freak who just might be the love of Dean Winchester's life.

Confusing but perfect time travel fic.   

If I run by betty days E | 4k | Hot,  AU, sexting, long distance relationship

"Dean Winchester is a red-blooded American male. He lifts all the things. He aims for functional strength. He counts his macros and makes fun of curlbros. He is not a member of the Tarahumara tribe and he will not read Born to Run, no matter how many times Sam tells him to, because Starting Strength is the only book Dean will ever fucking need." Wherein a friendly competition with the mysterious ThursdaysAngel turns into a sexy selfie-trading spree that motivates Dean Winchester to train for his first marathon.

Soo. Hot. Makes me want to actually exercise?    

The Little Things by Alreadypainfullygone T | 2k | Angst,  Cancer, Major Character Death

Au based on 'the big C' in which Dean gets very sick, and deals with it the denial way. Meeting a homeless man on the way. Dean/Castiel Angst. Warning for trigger - Cancer. sorry if you think I dealt with it badly.

This is only 2.8k words, and yet it managed to make me cry.    

Do What Feels Good by  Catchclaw, cymbalism E | 12k | Hot,  Alt!canon, PWP

Castiel learns to love alone time in the shower. And then he learns to share.

Fuuuuuck that was hot. Castubation and shower sex is just so hnnnggg.    

All That Is And Used To Be by MisaChan E | 26k | Alt!Canon, wing!Kink

Dean never even knew anyone was living in the old estate outside of town until its mysterious occupant contracts his shop for a very specific job: a custom piano bench with grooves cut into the back. He finds Castiel and his terms to be eccentric with a capital E but the money is too good to turn down and anyway, Dean can't help indulging his curiosity about the guy and his secretive, isolated life. There are secrets that will not stay hidden and stories that refuse to be forgotten. Especially when they happen to involve Dean Winchester and the angel Castiel.

Ugh, I love this story. Concept, execution, and characterization are all perfect.    

Do I Have Something Like That? by MysticMoonhigh E | 2k | Hot,  horn!kink, wing!kink

based on the tumblr post I made: Does anybody know any demon!Dean fics where Cas makes Dean climax by basically giving his demon horns a hand job because I want this so badly out of lifE | I'm. I've read this about three times and I think I'm finally coming to terms with my alien biology kink. Hot. Wink!kink and horn!kink. Yes.    

The Doctor Will See You Now by  PetrichorPerfume E | 7k| Hot,  PWP sub!dean, gentle dom!cas, wing!kink

Dean has a medical kink. Castiel is more than happy to oblige. Starring Castiel as the slightly unorthodox Dr. Novak who enjoys prescribing enforced chastity and daily tease and denial sessions, and Dean as his needy, submissive patient who will do anything for a chance to come.

Wowowwowowow. Um. This was super hot. Nnnghhhh.    

Into Your Hideaway by thepinupchemist E  | 176k |Angst,  a/b/o, omega!dean, alpha!cas, mpreg

Driving down a deserted road in the Rocky Mountains, Castiel finds something unexpected: An omega. Not only an omega, but a naked, injured, pregnant omega. Dean doesn't talk much at first, but that doesn't change the brightness of his soul. It also doesn't stop Castiel from falling in love with him.

I just... Wow. This was an amazing story. Beware that it is possibly very triggering, because of rape, assault, violence, and general bigotry. But perhaps because of all of that, you get a story that is almost painful in its reality, and it is all the more loveable for that.    

The World Crashing All Around by thepinupchemist E | 36k| Alt!canon, best friends wing!Kink, kid!fic

During a storm in September of 1987, Dean and Sam hear something hit their roof. When they brave the backyard to investigate, they find a fledgling angel. A story about best friendship, spoiled plans, and love, in four parts.

OH MY GOD. This was perfect all the way through. From soul bonds, to slow burn, to growing up together as best friends, it's all my favorite. And it even has wing kink, which is literally the best.    

Share Your Burden by aTimeOfMagic E | 3k Hot,  PWP, Sub!dean, dom!cas

Set at the end of 'Are You There God? It's Me Dean Winchester.' 4.02. Castiel shows Dean that he deserves respect, and Dean comes to see that Cas is not, in fact, just a 'hammer'. He also learns that his 'people skills' are definitely not entirely 'rusty'.

Damn. Um, really hot. Also, unexpectedly sweet.    

Flawless by Vaerin E | 69k | a/b/o, accidental bonding, sub!dean, dom!cas

A contract is out on the Winchesters, a large sum of money the reward for throwing them off their game. A witch in the town they happen to be passing through decides to collect. She sets her sights on Dean, trying to seduce him into leaving his job to stay with her. When she can't even convince him to warm her bed, she decides to turn her job into his punishment. Knowing he fears commitment and can't stand the thought of being with a man, she works a spell between him and Castiel... the one friend he can call a safe haven. When they end up mated the next morning, not only does the Winchester family business suffer... but so does Dean's friendship with Castiel.

Cute long soul bond fic. Contains sabriel.    

Chasing Normal by Donovanspen M | 16k | Fluff,  First time, Cuddling & Snuggling

Dean reevaluates his definition of an 'apple pie life' and what that means for him, personally.

This is the definition of domestic fluff and smut. There's a wee bit of angst because hey, it's set in the canon verse. But so worth it.    

Hold On by somuchforbaggles E | 92k | Fluff,  Angst,   mental illness

Castiel is sure that nothing in his life will ever change. Everything that happens to him is predictable, from the stability of his job to the unrelenting sporadic anxiety attacks, he can rely on his life to stay the same forever - until he saves Dean Winchester from the path of an oncoming train. From then on, everything changes for both of them, and the only way they can deal with it is together.

Woww. This was an amazing ride. Angsty and fluffy, then angsty again, then back to fluffy. So good.    

I said to myself again by avyssoseleison E | 2k | Fluff,  Praise!kink, Self-esteem issues

Dean finally lets himself be appreciated and cared for by his angel.

Praise kink is my ultimate weakness    

The One Thing You Can't Lose by MajorEnglishEsquire T | 4k | Fluff,  Cuddling & Snuggling

You know what I like a lot? The thought that Dean can just tug Cas anywhere at any time and Cas, who can lift tons without effort, who can demolish things with the light of his grace, who has battled and gone to war, has defended and broken, will just let Dean do it.

fluffy love    

Spit Slick by VeraBAdler M | 1k | Fluff, , First Time

[no description]

A super cute fluffy little oneshot :3 (tags say 'happy sex' and 'sexy cuddling' if you need more to go on)  

Late Bloomer by somuchforbaggles T | 7k | Alt!Canon, Wing!kink, Wingfic, Soulmates

On every child’s seventh birthday, a celebration is held to mark the beginning of their journey as a fledgling - a sprouting ceremony. It doesn’t matter if the child hasn't shown the symptoms of emerging wings yet, for it is scientific fact that every child grows wings in their seventh year, sometimes even earlier. Castiel is not every child.

A coming of age wing fic. With mates. Basically, I'm in love.    

Sleight of Hand by aileenrose M | 64k | Angst,  Human AU, psychic cas, journalist dean

Dean Winchester has interviewed them all--mob bosses, serial killers, crooked politicians. Next he plans to unveil the con-man who markets himself as Castiel, a reclusive and secretive "healer" who claims to heal the sick in return for thousands of dollars. Dean's expecting a challenge, but he never expected Castiel to be so clueless or sweet...or that he might be telling the truth.

I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT THIS AU. The one where Dean is a skeptical journalist/professional idiot and Cas is a socially inept healer and mind reader. There's lots of angst, but the payoff is so worth it.    

Leaning In by Anonymous T | 15k | Hospital AU

Castiel never changed out his scrubs, Dean had a way of getting himself injured and Sam seemed to think it was a good pairing

Even though I have no idea who actually wrote this story, it's worth a read. I'm always up for a good medical AU.    

Someone I Forgot to Be by  MatildaMavis E | 36k Fluff,  Angst,  Human AU

Castiel is content - sort of - with his quiet life in Boston...at least, until his new neighbor moves in. It's Dean Winchester, the cliched long lost love of his life. Can these two idiots find their way back to each other after eight years, after fame and loss and heartbreak? After Dean has found love again with Cas' neighbor, Lisa? Fate can be a sadistic bitch, they've both learned that, but maybe they've matured enough to be able to handle it this time. The sparks, the attraction, the tension...or maybe not.

I thought this would be extremely painful, and it sort of was. But it was so worth it.    

Didn't Get That Particular Memo by Snarkymonkey E | 5k

Dean has worked with his best friend for years and maybe it's a bit more than that for him but not for Castiel, right? Right. And really, he'd feel so much better if Castiel would just get a companion already. Because it's not like Castiel actually wants him, right? Right.

Damn, that was fucking hot.  

Cas, You Had A Baby? by allthebeautifulthings9828 M | 132k | Fluff,  Alt!Canon, Kid Fic, Slow Build

At some point in every angel's life, raising a fledgling is required. Castiel's turn comes rather unexpectedly when his superiors hand off a newly created infant angel to him and leave him to raise it with all of Heaven's principles of blind obedience. He's not sure what to do, so he tucks the fledgling in his coat and goes straight to Dean and Sam Winchester. Together, Dean and Castiel hatch a plan to raise the fledgling away from Heaven's control. And soon, the angel Hael arrives with news that, after Castiel disappeared, she and four other angels ran from Heaven's oppression with their fledglings. Castiel finds himself the unwitting ringleader of angels choosing to raise their fledglings with the principles of free will. Is angelic parenthood too much for his deepening relationship with Dean? Who can they really trust? (Disclaimer: This story depicts fledglings consuming honey for the nourishment of their undeveloped graces. Human babies cannot consume honey, so please do not feed it to your infants. This is fiction.)

Oh. My. God. I admit that I was skeptical at the beginning about this story, but let me tell you, it sucked me in. Sometimes, you run across a story that has wonderful OCs that you get attached to. This is one of those. And of course, the baby is adorable.    

Healing by Jacqueline Albright-Beckett M | 2k | Fluff,  Canon!verse, PWP

Castiel can heal more than just physical wounds.

Sensual and romantic.    

Better Late Than Never by whelvenwings G | 23k | Fluff,  Alt!canon, friends to lovers,

When Dean first sees Castiel, he's clinging on for dear life - and things never really get any easier. In fact, they get a lot harder; Dean's worst enemy isn't always the monkey bars. Bound together year on year by the ritual pact of being a Guardian Angel, Dean and Cas grow close, showing loyalty and bravery in the face of danger. But will they ever find the courage to admit their true feelings for each other - and will it be too late by the time they do?

i LOVE best friends to lovers fics! and this delivers on that perfectly.    

Like A Candle In The Window On A Cold Dark Winter's Night by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel T | 6k | Fluff,  Canon!verse, asexual Cas

In which Castiel saves Dean, Dean saves Castiel, there is beer and TV watching, and if it weren't for the monsters and assassination attempts, life would be almost perfect.

A cute little fic I've read multiple times :)    

How many slams in an old screen door? by dandelioness T | 15k | Fluff,  Theatre AU, Asexual Cas

In which Castiel is a theatre major terrible at first impressions; Dean is a set designer who likes Cas anyway; and the most chaotic production of Les Miserables in history somehow manages to go off without a hitch. Or, just as you should never give a moose a muffin (because he'll want some jam to go with it), you should never give a blank check to a university theatre department.

This is perfect. I can't speak for the accuracy of the information and feelings given about asexuals/asexuality, but I enjoyed this fic nonetheless.    

Breath of Heaven by solacesnake18 E | 9k

When Dean is wounded and dying in Purgatory, Castiel returns from his self-imposed exile to help him.

Wow. True!form cas and metaphysical sex that somehow manages to be poetic, emotional, and erotic all at once. I approve.    

The Mirror by CloudyJenn M | 24k | Canon!Verse,

When Dean touches a strange mirror, he's whisked away to one alternate reality after another and it doesn't take him long to realize the universe is trying to tell him something.

One of my favorite fics, and a fandom classic. So beautiful. It's a trip, but you'll love it. The ending makes me really emotional.    

Rock 'n' Roll Queer Bar by chasingrabbits E | 121k | Fluff,  Human AU

Ellen and Jo Harvelle run Harvelle's Roadhouse, a bar that unintentionally becomes a beacon for wayward queer souls. Her employees: Dean, the smartass runaway with a big heart and bigger mouth; Castiel, the college drop-out turned hippie; his (surprisingly heterosexual) trouble-making brother Gabriel; and Charlie, who has been told several times that the back room is not to be used for after-hours Dungeons & Dragons games. But there's a lot of love in this place, and a new family for anyone who may otherwise be without.

Sweet little (well, not so little really) universe. Link is to the series.    

A Million Ways to Go by chasingrabbits E | 91k | High School AU,

Castiel Novak is a preacher's son living in a world of black and white. Pragmatic and dutiful, he doesn't understand why anybody would want to make waves. Then the Winchesters move in down the street. Soon many of the skeletons in the Novak family's closet are exposed, and as the family faces them, Castiel begins to understand that there are many ways to see the world and so many more ways to live than what he's been told.

Wow, this was a ride. Set in an alternate!canon where Cas is a repressed preacher's kid and dean still grows up a hunter. Also, lots of Sam and Gabriel brother!feels. Not sabriel.

Like That Foreigner Song... by DevilMadeMeDoIt E | 5k | Hot,  Alt!Canon, Deancest, Time trave

Dean and Cas have been together for a while now, but Dean always regrets that he has been with so many people in the past. He wishes he could go back in time and tell his 15 year old self that there is someone worth waiting for. Cas gives him the chance and the outcome is one that neither of them expected.

Oh god, this was a perfect little story. So much love.    

TutorMate by faeryn M | 21k | College AU

Sam leaves Dean's laptop logged in to some app called "TutorMate" and Dean meets his brother's tutor. Cas helps him with his own work and they strike up a friendship. Before long Dean finds himself growing attached to the cute, clever Cas and flirtatiously suggests they go on a date if he applies himself to his college work. Cas agrees, but Dean discovers his online friend is not quite what he expected. (Or, in which Dean thinks he's met a cute girl and finds out he's actually met a cute boy.)

Wowowwowowow adorable. Perfect little college AU.    

More recs coming soon.

[livelovelaug-h]

What doesnt heal you makes you stronger pt 1

Nathaniel heywood x reader

Warnings = fluff and sad moments

Dc legends of tomorrow! Summary = strap in this is a good one. I don't want to spoil it so the title basically says it all. You have a healing power but when something happens you can't use your power anymore. But do you listen ? What sacrifices are you willing to make?

Now

"NATE! NO, NO NO NO NO." You crouch down next to his body.

"Y/n? you- you can't use your p-powers for me." 

"Of course I can." 

"You're going to die."

"If it means saving you then.. I don't care" 

~~~ 48 HOURS EARLIER ~~~

You were devastated that you couldn't use your powers. I mean they make you who you are.

''as long as you're evil doppelganger is out there roaming around you can not use your powers otherwise it could kill you. I'm sorry love that's one of the downsides of having them." John said. 

"Yeah." Nate seen how upset you were, he really didn't like seeing you like this. 

"It'll be okay we will get your doppelganger and stop her." he said putting his hand around your waist.

"Thank you" 

"Also anything that happens to your other self can happen to you."

"Then we need to find her ASAP." Nate said. 

"We will but in the meantime, I'm sorry I have to say this but you should stay on the ship." Sara says looking at you. 

''why I can still help?"

"Yeah but we don't need your evil self seeing you or people mistaking you for her. We will find her I promise but right now we need to leave 1970" 

You nodded and everyone sat down in their seats on the waverider getting ready to take off. Nathan grabbed your hand for support and you squeezed his hand. "Gideon take us back to 2019." 

~~~ 

you guys went to your rooms to get a good night's sleep before the adventure you had waiting for you tomorrow.  You woke up earlier than the rest of the team and started drinking. 

3 beers & 2 shots of whiskey in, Nathan and Ray walked in. 

"Geed mornin guysssssss.''

"You're awfully chipper this morning, good morning." Ray said a little cautiously. 

"Woah how much have you had to drink y/n???" 

"Idk but why do they call waiters waiters, when were actually the ones waiting, you know?"

"She's got a point ." 

"Ray! Alright wise one it's time to get you to bed" Nate says. 

"What's going on in here?" Sarah asked.

"Uhh -" 

"Sara hey! Did you have some fun last night? I mean with those noises last night-" 

"Okay time for bed!" Nate says picking you up bridal style and carrying you to your shared room. Sarah just stood there with wide eyes. 

"I uh - I'm gonna go see If he needs help." Ray says and scurries out of the room. 

Back in the room 

Nate lies you down on the bed and you speak up.

"Do you love me?"

"Of course I do why would you even ask that?" 

"Then let's make a baby" 

"A baby? Y/n your drunk okay get some sleep we'll talk about this when you're sober." 

"What if we don't find her?" He sighs. 

"We will we always do. Have some faith. I know you're hurting but it's going to be fine." You nod. 

"Alright steel man. Good night." You roll over and Nate's heart breaks seeing you like this. 

~~ 

You woke up with the worst headache. You seen a note on your stand that said, "here's some medicine for that hangover i hope you feel better. - Nate Xx" you smiled he's the only thing keeping you going right now. 

You took the medicine and started walking around the Wave Rider not really finding anyone until you seen Gary and Ava. 

"What are you guys doing here?"

" Just making sure you're doing alright."

"i'm doing fine thanks. where's the rest of the team?" 

"They caught insight of where your evil doppelganger is." Gary says happily. 

"That's great where was she?."  

"That I am not allowed to tell you." Ava said. 

Sara came in on Ava's earpiece. "we need some backup Ava." 

"Okay I'm on my way." She says then whispers "Gary you stay here and make sure she doesn't leave ." She starts to walk away: 

"Wait wait what's going on?" 

"The team needs an extra person." And with that she used her watch to go in the portal to time jump.

"Gary please tell me where they went." 

"You know I'm not allowed to tell you. Bosses orders." 

"It's not like I'm going to go there, I just want to know where my evil self went. You know anywhere cool or maybe somewhere meaningful. What's the harm in that?" 

"Mm I don't know." 

"Come on you're my best friend."

"Really??" 

"Yes! I'm going to get us matching rings." 

"That's awesome. Okay but you promise you won't try anything." 

"I promise." 

"Alright the team went to 2004 Washington DC it's an abandoned place on ..." 

You had to do this. "I'm sorry." You punched Gary right in the face watching him go down. "But my fingers were crossed." 

You took his watched and walked through the portal to where he said the team was at. It was a big place- it was about thirty floors up. You started going up each floor skimming the rooms to see if you could hear or see anything. When you got to the 8th floor you heard people they were fighting so you tried to hide behind the wall.

"alright let's keep going, Nate and the others are being held on floor 19" Sara said.

They have Nate? you have to save him but how can you do it without Sara seeing you.

You quietly followed them up 2 more floors once Sara & Ava got distracted you went up to the next floor. You got up to floor 19 with no problem except there were guards outside. You punched them both and after a little bit of struggle they both were finally down. You walked in the room and you see Nate and Constantine tied up in chairs.

"y/n you can't be here what are you doing?"

"helping my team."

"thank you for the rescue but you need to leave now."

"I can't where is rest of the team?"

"top of the building where your evil self took them."

"great let's go." When you started walking you felt a slice in your lower stomach.

"AHHHH."

"y/n?? What's wrong"

"looks like someone got a hold of your evil self love."

"I'm fine let's keep going." On the floor 30 you got stopped by multiple people, and in the fight you lost nate and Constantine. When you finally fought off the five assassins you looked over and seen Nate bleeding out on floor.

Now

"stop y/n. D-don't."

"shhh." You closed Your eyes letting the white light heal Nate. He was all healed but didn't get up yet you on the other hand collapsed on the floor. He gasped for air feeling 100% better, but when he looked over all of that vanished. "Y/n?? .. Y/n come on get up." you coughed up some blood. "I'm glad it worked."

"you shouldnt have done that. Your gonna be okay right? " He asked panicked when he seen your eyes started closing.

"I love you Nathaniel". He had tears running down his face.

"don't do that."

"it's okay." With that you were gone. "Y/n please. No no no." He sobbed into your body. The whole team came running at you guys.

Ray looked at you then at Nate putting his hand on his friends shoulder. "I'm so sorry nate" the floor started shaking.

"What's going on?"

"Gideon?" Sara asked through the coms.

"looks like there is a big time abberation happening Ms. Lance ."

When Nate stood up there was a big white light and before he knew it he was in a hallway. "What the?"

He seen a picture on the wall of you and him.

"y/n?"

"In the kitchen." He was startled.

Walking in the kitchen there you were.

"how you were- we were just..."

"we were just what? Are you okay what's wrong?"

"nothing. What year are we in?"

"2019 why?"

"that's impossible where did i work last year?"

"you were a historian and you worked in an office. Are you feeling well?"

"this isn't right."

[honeypiehotchner]

Trust -- part twelve

There’s a lot of hate for Mary but I really enjoyed her character? So she won’t be a HUGE part of this story, but she will be here. Hence this chapter. Sorry not sorry if anyone dislikes her lol.

Warnings: Angst. So sorry. Reader and Sherlock are having a bit of a moment. Oopsies. And that bad idea the reader has is toward the end, but vaguely. It’ll be explained (and acted upon) in the next chapter. Fun times!

Despite many, many, many protests made by Sherlock, John still manages to drag the consulting detective out of the flat to have dinner with you and Mary one evening.

           The pout on Sherlock’s face is enough to make you snicker, and this time, you don’t muffle it. Not even as Sherlock turns to glare at you, because that look is almost ten times funnier to you. And you catch him when he moves to hide the smirk stretching across his lips. Sherlock can’t help it. Something about the sound of your laughter brings this light feeling to his lungs.

           John takes the first taxi since he has to pick up Mary on the way, leaving you to take the next with Sherlock. The latter wonders for a moment how much John would be angry with him if he turned and went back inside the flat, but one look at you squashes that option.

           Despite what he wants to tell John, or you, or himself, Sherlock is worried for your safety. And for that reason alone – well, the case itself being a close second – Sherlock stays by you on the sidewalk.

           He hails a taxi for you both, getting one quicker than you ever would have. You climb into the backseat, scooting all the way to the window. Sherlock sits on the opposite side, practically hugging the door as he tells the driver where to take you both.

           “Have you found anything else?” You ask, trying to start some sort of small talk. Silence is Sherlock’s strong suit, and you know that, but you’ve had enough deafening silence from him to last you three years. And it’s only been three days since he last spoke to you. And he’s been at the lab for nearly all 72 of those hours.

           “No.”

           “Hm,” you nod. “What have you found?”

           “Nothing.”

           “Have you been experimenting?”

           “Yes.”

           “What for?”

           “Other cases.”

           “Ooh, anything exciting?”

           He turns his head to look at you. “Why, are you going to tell my brother?”

           “I haven’t spoken with your brother since he forced me to have tea with him,” you scoff, frustrated that Sherlock would even assume that of you. Why would he even assume that of you?

           “Oh.”

           Trying to connect some dots, you ask, “Are you mad at me?”

           Sherlock reels back, that question being the last he’d ever expected to come from you. “Why would you think that?” He blurts.

           “I dunno,” you shrug, glancing toward the front. “You haven’t spoken to me in three days.”

           “Don’t take my silence personally, Y/N.”

           “But you’ve spoken to John, Ms. Hudson, probably Molly,” you list their names without knowing your real reasoning. Probably to get a rise out of him, like you do everything else.

           “Are you jealous?”

           Sherlock’s question comes as a surprise both to you and him. Jealousy isn’t exactly a word you were aware of Sherlock knowing the true meaning of. Turning the question on you instead of himself like John did is what surprises Sherlock the most.

           Still, you answer. “I don’t think jealous is the right word, but,” You pause, looking over at him, but he’s staring straight ahead. “We played games and talked for a while and then suddenly you stopped talking. I don’t know.”

           “I said don’t take it personally.”

           “Right,” you nod, turning to look out your window. “Forget I said anything. I’m sorry, really. It was a silly thing to bring up.” And you mean that truthfully.

           You should know better. He’s Sherlock Holmes. He goes silent for days, weeks sometimes. He thinks like a machine and visits his mind palace so often that it might as well be an actual, physical palace that he travels to, probably the size of Buckingham Palace itself. His silence isn’t personal to anyone but himself. He is an individual in every sense of the word.

           And it’s silly of you to even begin to think anything otherwise.

           You don’t see it because you’re too busy doing some thinking of your own, but Sherlock looks over at you. And he looks. For the longest time. Eyebrows furrowed, studying your expression. Your behavior suggests you’re upset with him. But you told him to forget it, that it was silly, suggesting that you understand you shouldn’t take his silence personally. At least, that’s what your wording suggests. Your tone suggests something else entirely, something he isn’t able to read.

           When he sees your head begin to turn ever so slightly, he turns his own to stare ahead.

           You ignore the feeling. Like his silence, you shouldn’t take his staring personally, either. Nothing he does should you take personally because he is not thinking of you. He doesn’t think of any other human being other than himself, and that is a fact you are going to have to grasp.

           It was silly of you, really, to even suggest to yourself that he might think of you. He thinks of the case, and that is all. Nothing outside of that.

           Nothing like Tony. You think most of what you’re feeling is the immense longing for having Tony here with you, and you’ve got to stop that. He isn’t coming back, and you are going to have to accept that and move on. Trying to fill that void with someone like Sherlock Holmes is only going to hurt you further, and right now, you don’t think you can take anything else. You’re damaged enough as it is. You need to focus on keeping yourself under control and ignore whatever it is you were sensing from Sherlock.

           Because obviously nothing is there. Sherlock Holmes doesn’t have friends.

           You nearly scoff aloud at the absurdity of your thought process, scolding yourself for it taking this long for you to come to this conclusion. You suppose because you found John, who is half your brother, half your blood – you suppose you thought this situation would be different. And maybe it is. You know John sees you as a sister, and you see him as a brother – whatever that means, because you are still trying to figure that out.

           But you’re beginning to realize your connection to Sherlock Holmes needs and has to mirror that of your connection with your mother.

           You’re a house guest. Nothing less, nothing more.

           That is all.

~~~

Mary is exactly as you imagined she’d be. Kind face, bright smile, and a bubbly, feisty personality to match. Her dry wit is a perfect companion to John’s because hers is much like yours – it’s obvious you both use your humor to irritate John.

           “Did he tell you I thought you were a stripper?”

           “Y/N!”

           You ignore John, leaning across the table toward Mary. “I swore you were. And then he told me you were a nurse.”

           “Oh, unfortunately,” she scrunches her face in amusement. She nudges John with her elbow, trying to get him to stop looking so stiff. “I like her.”

           “See, John?” You give him a look. “I told you not to worry.”

           “Was he worrying?”

           “He worries all the time,” you frown. “I told him I thought you were lovely.”

           “And a stripper,” she chuckles, raising her eyebrows.

           “Lucky guess,” you smirk, ignoring the heated glare you’re getting from John. You see the amusement behind it. “Where did you and John meet?”

           She gives John an exasperated look. “Have you really not told her anything about me?”

           “I didn’t get a chance to tell her anything before she figured it out.”

           “Oh, what gave him away?”

           “He was dressing too nice,” you shrug.

           Mary grins again, nodding. “I like her. I really like her.”

           “I’m glad,” John smiles, giving you a look of amusement and please stop it.

           “What about you, Sherlock?” Mary asks suddenly, turning her head to the detective sitting next to you, who has been entirely silent this whole night. He’s been silent since your little conversation in the cab, actually, but per his request, you’re not taking his silence personally, so instead, you focus heavily on the wine still sitting untouched in your glass.

           “Just experimenting,” he replies flatly, keeping his hands in his lap.

           “For three days straight.” You wish you could blame the alcohol for your words, but you can’t. There’s nothing else to blame besides your stupid…frustration? Yes, dammit, you’re frustrated. No matter how stupid it is, you’re frustrated. Probably more with yourself at this point, but regardless, you’re frustrated.

           John’s head snaps to you when he hears your tone, his eyebrows furrowing. Sherlock inhales deeply, electing to ignore your comment.

           Mary moves on after noticing the tension. “Solved any cases?”

           “Seven,” Sherlock smiles.

           You nearly roll your eyes. He’s solved seven, but he can’t solve The Congregation. At this point, you’re better off trying to find Gidon yourself.

           Your eyes widen at the idea. And why you had never thought of it before.

           You quickly compose yourself, not wanting to let anything else on – and because you genuinely would like to enjoy this dinner. Which is why you begin to drink the wine in front of you.

           “Anything interesting?”

           “Mm, no,” Sherlock finally places his hands on the table, only to clasp them together. “All of them remarkably boring.”

           “Pity,” you mutter, swirling the wine before downing it.

           “Are you alright?” John mouths.

           You nod, placing the glass down gently. Sherlock eyes you suspiciously but averts his eyes when he sees John watching him with a weird look, like he’s slowing putting some pieces together.

           Gidon, you think. Where would a man like Gidon Dietrichson hide? Most likely in plain sight. He’s probably been watching your every move, which doesn’t surprise you. You’re used to someone watching you, after all the trouble you used to get into. And you’re positive Mycroft is silently watching you all, anyway. But where would a man like Gidon be?

           “Y/N?”

           You blink, turning your head to see John looking at you. “What?”

           “What are you eating?”

           It’s then you notice the waiter standing at the end of the table. “Oh,” you chuckle. “Whatever he’s having,” you motion to Sherlock.

           “It has tomatoes,” Sherlock replies rather matter-of-factly.

           You give him a heated glare before giving the waiter a smile. “Then I’ll have it without tomatoes.” Handing the menu off to the waiter, you glance at your empty glass. “And more wine, please.”

           John tilts his head at you, still not fully grasping the reason behind your attitude. All he can think of is that Sherlock might’ve said something to you, but he knows you better than that. You’d just as quickly slap Sherlock before you let his words get to you.

           And yet here you are.

           “Y/N, I actually have a favor to ask of you,” Mary changes the subject, giving you a smile. “It’s about the wedding.”

           “Wedding!” You grin, glad she finally brought it up. “I was waiting for you to mention it.”

           “Really?”

           “Well, you’re wearing the ring now,” you nod down at her hand. “Congratulations,” you turn to John, “and thank God you finally asked.”

           “He asked last night,” Mary gushes.

           “Finally!” You laugh. “What favor do you need?”

           She shares an excited look with John before turning back to you. “I would like you to help plan the wedding.”

           You raise your eyebrows at the odd request, but you still smile. “I’d be happy to! But I’ll warn you, I’ve never planned a wedding in my life.”

           “Oh, me either,” she waves your worry away. “But there’s something else, apart from planning.”

           Your eyebrows raise even more.

           She lets out a small sigh, remembering what John’s told her about your past. “I’d like you to be part of it – in it, actually.” She pauses. “I’d like you to be my maid of honor.”

           You blink, inhaling sharply to say something, but nothing comes out. “What’s—I’m sorry, what’s a maid of honor again?”

           And much to your surprise, she doesn’t laugh. You expect her to, and even if she did, it would’ve been fine. You know it’s a silly thing to not know much about.

           “We can talk about details later, I swear,” Mary promises. “I just wanted to ask you now.”

           “Okay,” you laugh. “Good, because I am clueless.”

           “And that’s alright,” she nods. “We’ll figure it out together.”

           “Okay,” you smile. You imagine you’ll never be used to anyone saying they’ll figure something out together with you, but you’re going to have to get used to it.

           And you’re going to have to ask Mary why the hell she wants you to be her maid of honor, but that can wait. Like you said, you want to enjoy this dinner. And you plan to. John’s concerned looks and Sherlock’s pouting face be damned.

~~~

John returns home from dropping Mary off at her place, entering the flat just minutes after you and Sherlock parted ways at the door. Despite the awkward dinner, Sherlock still rode in the same cab with you, albeit in silence, but he still rode with you.

           But the second you walked inside the flat, he went up the stairs, and you went through your door without saying a word.

           John knocks on your door, but after received a quiet, “It’s open,” he lets himself inside. He finds you in your kitchen, making tea in silence.

           That alone tells him something is really wrong.

Knowing you hate it when he tries to beat around the bush, he decides to just ask his question, “Are you and Sherlock…fighting?”

           “Why would we be fighting?” You answer John while still staring down at your tea.

           “I don’t know,” John breathes, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Dinner just seemed a bit…tense.”

           “Oh, we had a conversation in the cab on the way there.”

           “Oh,” he nods. “What was it about?”

           “It was really stupid,” you shake your head, picking up your mug and turning to look at John. “I tried to make some small talk, but I guess he’s too preoccupied, with cases and all.” You sip your tea, wanting John to join in at any moment, but he doesn’t. He just listens to you with this sad look on his face. “I guess I just thought we were friends, so I had to remind myself Sherlock Holmes doesn’t have friends,” you chuckle darkly. “Which is okay,” you immediately clarify, not wanting John to think you’re upset, because really, you’re not anymore. “I get it. I used to be the exact same way – still am, really. So no hard feelings.”

           Your older brother eyes you suspiciously. “Are you sure?”

           “Yeah,” you nod, offering a smile. “I’m sure. I think I just miss Tony a lot more than I thought I would, and I was trying to – I don’t know what I was trying to do. But hey, I don’t have time to worry about that anyway. I’ve got a wedding to help plan now.”

           John smiles at your newfound enthusiasm. He hopes it’s something that will stay. “Well, I’m glad you’re excited about it.”

           “Aren’t you excited?”

           “Of course, I’m excited,” he replies. “But the planning is…not really my thing.”

           “Oh, come on. It’s your wedding, too. We’re gonna make you make some decisions.”

           “Yes, I’m sure you will.”

           You smirk around your mug, crossing one ankle over the other as John turns to head for the door, not wanting to keep you too late because it’s obvious you want to get some sleep. Before he can make it all the way out, though, you call out again.

           “Hey Johnny?”

           “Yes?”

           “Thank you.”

           He tilts his head. “What for?”

           You shrug. “Everything.”

           He chuckles, still confused. “Alright.”

           “If I hadn’t met you that day, I don’t know where I’d be right now,” you reply truthfully. “And while that one upstairs can be a pain in my ass,” you snicker, not caring if Sherlock is eavesdropping or not, “I’m still grateful. I mean, I’m gonna be in a wedding. My mom instilled into my brain so much when I was younger that weddings were a waste of time. And now I’m planning yours,” you shake your head in disbelief. “And I’m getting to witness a really happy couple be married. That’s something I’ve never seen.” You blame the wine from dinner for making you this emotional, and the late hour. “I dunno. I just feel good.”

           “Is this the wine talking?”

           “Probably,” you laugh. “But I mean it.”

           Without hesitating, John walks back over to you, and you set your cup down in preparation, knowing he’s about to give you one of his infamous big brother hugs. And he does.

           He wraps his arms around you tightly, sighing when you return the gesture, hugging him just as tight.

           “I know you mean it. Thank you.”

           “Of course,” you smile. “But hey, keep an eye out for Sherlock, alright? He seemed a little bothered by the idea.”

           “Of what? Me getting married?”

           “Yeah,” you frown. “I don’t know why.”

           “Okay,” John nods. “Thanks for letting me know.”

           “No problem,” you shake your head, suddenly feeling stupid upon remembering the fact. That could very well be what has Sherlock acting so strange. His behavior has nothing to do with you at all, and you were making a fool of yourself for being upset by it.

           You sigh heavily as John leaves, shutting the door and leaving you alone – both physically and mentally.

           You feel like a complete ass, now, for snapping at Sherlock the way you did. You know he probably couldn’t care less, but you care, and your frustration was unwarranted. He’s Sherlock Holmes. He goes silent. He’s allowed to. He doesn’t owe you anything, and vice versa.

           You collapse on your bed with a groan. What has gotten into you, acting the way you were? You were behaving like a child, no doubt. Now all you can do is accept it, maybe apologize if Sherlock will even let you, but that’s debatable. He probably doesn’t even want one.

           In order to distract yourself, you focus on something else.

           Yes, your thought at dinner.

           If Sherlock can’t solve this case, you might as well try. Besides, Gidon isn’t after Sherlock. He’s after you. Now the problem comes when trying to find where exactly Gidon is hiding.

           He can’t be hiding very far, since you know for a fact that he was watching Tony and Allen before he killed them. And he drugged them days prior. You could be drugged now, for all you know, but that’s unlikely. Regardless, how could he have drugged them?

           It could’ve been anywhere, but it would’ve had to be somewhere where they were vulnerable, even if for a few moments.

           A café, possibly? Gidon posing as a waiter or a chef. That wouldn’t be hard to do, and slipping something into their food or drink would be easier than anything. But they would have to frequent the establishment – which actually doesn’t seem like a far reach. They were both traveling from out of town, naturally they’d find a café they like and stick to it for the time being – it’s typical tourist behavior.

           And typical Tony and Allen behavior.

           You shove that thought away, focusing now on yourself. If they were tourists – not really, but for the sake of your deductions – that is how they would behave. But you aren’t a tourist, not really. A fugitive maybe describes your status more or less. But you’ve been here in this flat for two months now, which is long enough that you’ve felt yourself beginning to call it home. It doesn’t feel like a home, but that’s not the point – nothing has ever felt like a home to you. The point is, you’ve settled down here for the time being. And you don’t frequent cafés.

           So, naturally, Gidon’s approach would have to be different. Because his target is different from the last.

           You frequent the record store down the street, and you do frequent one café, but mostly as takeaway, not sitting down. Granted, that might not matter. But it matters when John is normally the one who grabs the food. How would Gidon know for sure which one is yours? You never order the same thing, and he wouldn’t want to drug the wrong person. He’s not like that. He has a specific target, a specific order to things.

           You press your hands over your eyes, annoyed that this is a lot more complicated than you expected. But Gidon is a complicated man, you suppose. More complicated than Sherlock Holmes, that’s for sure. Gidon is borderline ridiculous.

           Steering yourself back to Gidon, you think harder.

           And that is when it dawns on you.

           The Y/N that Gidon knew was an addict. A fierce addict with no money to her name. An addict doing underground work to get the money needed to fuel her addiction.

           That is how you met him, after all. You were an addict, he always had a fix. He thought you were there to do work for him, but it was the exact opposite. He thought you were nothing more than an addict with nowhere to go, so you found refuge in The Congregation.

           So where would you be most vulnerable? Exactly in the same place he found you. Like an addict.

           Your eyes shoot open at the realization, your face scrunching up in a frown.

           You don’t like this idea. You don’t like this idea at all. But then again, you never like any of your ideas. It was, in fact, your idea to get involved with The Congregation in the first place. It was Mycroft who sealed the deal when he mentioned a number. This is no different. The deal is sealed by the prospect of finding the man who killed Tony and Allen.

           You roll onto your side, deciding to literally sleep on the idea. If you haven’t come up with a better one by morning, then…well, that’s that.

           But you are absolutely, most definitely, not telling your brother about this.

[perissologist]

ok i’m in a Mood(TM) where i WILL put absolutely anything and everything on this website so i’m gonna force all of you to look at the best thing i’ve ever written in my entire 22 years of life which i’ve just rediscovered on my google docs:

It was hot and dry; nosebleed weather. Lise sat on the terrace of the most popular Mediterranean restaurant in Westminster, holding her body as still as possible so that she wouldn’t sweat in her white wraparound dress. The rookie sat across from her, eyes on the menu. He was even damper than her in his full silk suit, but it was a posh sort of establishment, and he would have looked ridiculous in linen. To their right, the peaks of Parliament rose against the flat sky like castle turrets; beyond that, the Thames glittered deep blue in the rare English sunshine, its filth masked by the light and the distance.

The rookie noticed her looking at him and reached up to adjust his tie. It was automatic, nervous. He was about as green as they got, still carrying the tics of the academy on his coattails and straight into the mission. They had assigned him to her because he was a local, supposedly her key to unlocking the secrets of Europe. She suspected that it was more of a punishment. An unofficial cuff on the head for the antics she’d pulled on her last mission.

“What is it?” the rookie asked. At least he had the sense to keep his voice low. “Am I giving us away?”

Lise forced out a smile. She leaned in and twined her leg with the rookie’s, who immediately turned an amusing shade of beetroot. “Relax, darling,” she purred, in her best London accent. “It’s not often that we get to take lunch together.”

The rookie coughed. He had forgotten their cover, but at least he was a quick learner: His shoulders relaxed under his suit jacket and he reached across the table to take her hand, no fumbling involved. She smiled again, a little more real this time, and nodded when the waiter stopped by their table to ask if they were ready. “I’ll have the lamb and rice, please,” she said. “And a glass of your driest white.”

“The seafood stew for me,” the rookie said.

The waiter jotted down their orders and departed. Lise adjusted her broad-brimmed sunhat over her eyes and checked the entrances, the exits, the rooftops above and below the terrace’s level. She drummed her manicured fingertips against her thigh and watched the rookie sweat across from her. He was so new that she felt older by a decade just looking at him, but in reality they were probably close to the same age. He wasn’t half bad to look at: A thin face with a thin nose, but a sharp jawline and crystal blue eyes to rescue it. When she had first met him, his tawny, curly hair had annoyed her, but now she found it distantly charming. Maybe it was the heat going to her head. She tilted her head at him, sweet. “Tell me your name again.”

“Oh—it’s James,” he said. “James Caleb.”

She made a face. “Two first names? That’s a bit excessive.”

“No—Caleb’s not—”

The waiter arrived with their dishes. Another patron had entered the terrace, guided by the hostess to a singles table by the railing. He was white, fiftyish, square-jawed and a little pink under the skin in the way many white men were when they got to a certain age. He wore a navy suit without a tie and oxfords polished to a precise shine; his white-blond hair was just long enough to pull off a half-decent combover. He sat down at his table and hid his face behind the menu the waiter handed him.

“Sorry, darling, but I think I’ve just spotted an old friend.” Lise pulled the napkin off her lap and rose from her seat. “You don’t mind if I pop over to say hello, do you?”

She was moving across the terrace before the rookie had even turned enough to get a good look at their target, slipping into the empty seat across the table from the man. “I recommend the lamb,” she said, without the accent. “It’s excellent with lemon.”

The man looked up, already working up a scowl. His expression changed when he saw that she was a woman, and attractive. “Pardon me,” he said, with all the oily pleasantry one would expect from a politician, “but do we know each other?”

Lise smiled. “You don’t know me, but I know you, Walter Pipwhite.” In the next second, the barrel of her pistol was pressed against Pipwhite’s knee. He paled as dramatically as if someone had drained the blood out of him. “MP of Chatham and Aylesford, graduate of Cambridge in political economy and Aberdeen in English law, serving a second term in Parliament. Leaking state secrets to black market arms dealers in Austria and Lisbon.” Pipwhite looked as if someone was currently dangling him off Tower Bridge. “You really should keep your affairs in better order, Mr. Pipwhite.”

Pipwhite swallowed. “What do you want?”

Lise sighed. It was so boring when the targets rolled over so easily. Where was the fight? The thrill of the chase? “The name of the head of the operation, please and thank you.”

“I don’t know it,” Pipwhite said. “I only know my contact in the organization. I gave her the information and she verified it. After she confirmed it was good, she passed it on to her boss.”

“And the payments?”

“They were deposited in my accounts under a shell corporation. ‘Nautilus Ltd.’”

With one hand, Lise withdrew a tiny pad of paper and a nub of a pencil from a pocket in her dress, keeping her other hand pressing the pistol to Pipwhite’s knee. She jotted down “Nautilus Ltd” on the pad. “Would you be so kind as to share a description of this contact?”

Pipwhite’s brow furrowed. “White, attractive. Thirty, thirty-five. Thin. French accent. Carried herself like she knew the effect she had on you.”

Lise glared at him. “What is this, a Nicholas Sparks novel? What kind of identifying information is that?”

Pipwhite at least had the decency to flush. “Sorry. Dark hair, gray eyes. Sharpish face. Five-seven, five-eight. I think she had a mole on the left side of her neck.”

“Name?”

“I only knew what her colleagues called her. Fleur de Lis.”

“Pretentious,” Lise muttered, but wrote it down anyway. “Final question. Why’d you do it?”

Pipwhite’s eyes widened. “What?”

“You know,” Lise said. “Betray your country, collaborate with terrorists. Why?”

“I—” Pipwhite frowned, severe, and Lise recognized the excuse forming in his mouth. She sighed loudly, cutting him off.

“Never mind,” she said, and shot him in the chest, under the table.

Pipwhite slumped against the railing. Lise rose and rejoined the rookie at their table. He had half-stood from his chair and was looking at her with wide eyes. “Did you—?”

“How’s your seafood, dear?” Lise asked. She cut into a piece of lamb with her knife and fork and scooped up some of the spiced chutney on the side of her plate. Mm. Fucking delicious.

The rookie folded himself back into his chair with painful slowness. He picked up his fork but didn’t use it. She ate her lamb and let him stare at her for a while. At last, he asked, barely a whisper, “Shouldn’t we leave?”

“No one will notice for a while,” Lise said. “Until then, it’d be a shame to waste this lovely meal, wouldn’t it?”

She sipped her wine. The lunchtime chatter carried on around them; overhead, seagulls circled the Big Ben and swooped between the spokes of the London Eye. The rookie swallowed. He was pale underneath his sunburn. “They told me about you,” he said, low, like he was sharing a secret. “Back at HQ.”

“Oh?” Lise tasted some of her rice. It was great; very fluffy. “What did they tell you?”

“That you’re as insolent as a teenage girl but as bloodthirsty as a Navy SEAL.”

Lise grinned. “Those two qualities are far from contradictory, John.”

“James.” The rookie’s eyes darted towards Pipwhite’s slumped-over form. Lise sighed and took pity on him.

“Your British fretting is very cute, but it’s unnecessary. He’s just asleep.”

The rookie’s eyes locked back onto her. “What?”

“Hydrochlorine tranq dart,” Lise said. “It’s very fast-acting.”

It took a moment, but the tension drained from the rookie’s shoulders. He looked limp with relief. “Oh.” He exhaled, shaky. “Sorry I said you were insolent.”

“And bloodthirsty,” Lise reminded him, smirking.

“Right.”

“Hey,” someone at the next table said, voice rising. “I think that guy passed out.”

“That’s our cue.” Lise stood and tossed a fifty-pound note on the table. The rookie hastened to follow her towards the exit, the waiters rushing in the opposite direction as they hurried towards the unconscious MP. “Just so you know, I never would have killed him here.”

“Of course,” the rookie said.

“It would’ve made getting out of London a nightmare.”

The rookie looked suddenly nervous again. Lise grinned and led him out onto the street. “Alright, Jimbo,” she said. “Which way to St. Pancras station?”

I WILL NEVER TOP THIS SOMEONE GIVE ME A PULITZER FOR THIS

[50shadesofmittens]

Completely fucking unfinished but I wanted something from this AU to make it online

<I have decided to call this the Headlockverse. Basically the idea is a group of Custodians used to sneak out of the palace in order to do the kind of work ALL Custodes in cannon have been doing, and Kitten was one of them. Then all bar Kitten died, and after a brief period of being mad and then being lost Kitten took over alltheir jobs. One of these tasks was keeping tabs on various fragments of Magnus who have sentience and were deemed unable to be kept safe in the palace for one reason or another, or who kept escaping the palace. As it happens, these interactions are sometimes unplanned and sometimes have unusual results. The song Headlockby Imogen Heap reflects the relationship Kitten has with the various Magnus-fragments he’s met over the years- with the Crimson King ie the guy on Sortarius being the only one who has not met Kitten over the years>

…/…/…/…/…/…|…\…\…\…\…\…

Millennium 42, unknown restaurant

…/…/…/…/…/…|…\…\…\…\…\…

There is something very pertinent about anticipation.

Some would think that minutes were nothing in the life of an eternal, but there are certain things that can only occur on small time scales. There’s a certain mix of terror, doubt, and a conviction one struggles to maintain, and this mixture can only be experienced in the handful of minutes that it lasts. Time seems to stretch out and the feeling weighs on a person even once the wait is over, but mere days later that terror is forgotten. People remember the way they botched their audition or stumbled during their interview, but no longer can they remember why.

I spotted her on the catwalk wearing a nice dress and a headscarf. Even her satchel looked like something a local woman would keep, and at a distance I wasn’t sure if she’d dressed up the bag she always kept at hand or splurged and got a new one from a local shop. It was certainly fancy enough for her to pass as someone who had access or gifts from my own funds, with my silk jacket and gold-woven cravat.

I flagged her down. She smiled at me and left to maneuver her way over. Ringing a bell summoned the waiter, and I gave the man a brief description of my ‘young lady friend.’ The server smiled and promised they’d send in the right girl.

Sure enough, when the knock came and the door opened, she was right behind the waiter. Before we were even alone she leapt onto the plush sofa to embrace me.

“Oh my darling, it’s been so long! Oh, we have so much to talk about, so much to do! Mwah!” She cried with all the drama of a rapturous preacher as she planted a kiss on my cheek.

The waiter bowed swiftly and closed the door, leaving the two occupants alone for our ‘reunion.’ She remained enthusiastic in her hugging, and so I told her;

“You know jumping on me disturbs the displacer field. The waiter might’ve noticed.”

“But he didn’t.” A snicker echoed through the small dining room, and she pulled back with a shit-eating grin. “A man like that knows full well to look the other way as soon as a young, pretty thing moves in to greet her host. You wouldn’t have picked this place without checking every security detail and privacy guarantee. You always read the fine print.”

“It’s still an unnecessary risk you created.”

“I know, darling.” She kissed me again, still leaning on my arm. “But if you’re going to go through all the trouble of setting me up as your quote-unquote mistress, it’s only polite that I give them a show. To respect the effort you’ve put in, I mean.”

“Ana-” I said, trying and failing to be annoyed by her antics.

“&#131;&#131;&#131;&#131;.” Ana said, finally leaning back and doing her best impression of my “Ana-be-serious” face. “Is there something I’ve done wrong?”

I didn’t answer, knowing this game all too well. “Is the planet about to be exterminatus’d? Is my better half about to find me?” Ana continued, “Is one of my brothers about to jump out from behind that curtain and drag me, kicking and screaming, all the way home so he can cut off my head in front of billions of onlookers?”

“No. None of those things are about to happen.”

“Then you can stop looking so dour and glum.” Ana flicked my nose, before settling a bit farther away on the couch. “Now, I’m sure you’ve got some terrible news about Angelos or Cadia or something, but it’s been too long and I want to mooch off your funding. Let’s get lunch first and catch up on the non-apocalyptic news- however scarce it may be these days- and then you can fill me in on who’s killing who.”

“Ana-” I sighed. “please keep it at a reasonable amount.”

“Perks of being my parole officer; every lunch meeting is a feast.”

“You know we’re supposed to be mortals.”

Ana grinned. “Ah, but what rich young man takes his mistress out and doesn’t spoil her with more than she needs?”

“They might notice when we order seven pounds of food and they get back empty plates.”

“So we order fourteen pounds and eat seven. It’s fiiine. You worry too much.” She grinned. “Besides. It really has been too long. You still seeing that one girl?”

She grimaced. “Urk, never mind. Y’know breaking the furniture like that is just as unusual as my appetite, right?”

I unclenched my hand from the edge of the table. Ana was right, there were handprint-shaped indents in the iron surface. Handprints that reflected the true size of my hands.

I pressed my elbow into the table, rolling it back and forth to conceal the pattern in a smoother dent. “I’m fine.” I said. “I’ve been studying lately, so there’s not much to report.”

“If you say so.” Ana said. “Alright then, I know what I want to order. Let’s get some food, and then I can tell you what I’ve been up to.”

“You haven’t even looked at the menu.”

“I got a glance of one open on a table I passed on my way to you.” With that she leaned over me and pulled the bell-string.

I didn’t pay much attention while Ana ordered. When the waiter turned to me I pasted on a smile and said, “I trust she’s got enough food for us to share.”

“I see, sir. Are you happy with Miss V’neer’s customizations?”

“Missus, actually. And it’s pronounced ‘veh-near,’ not ‘van-ear.’” Ana said.

“Apologies, Madame.” I was a little impressed the waiter didn’t even flinch, even though Ana’s clothes were nowhere near expensive enough for her to pass as my wife.

“I trust her taste.” I said.

The waiter left with a bow, and Ana turned back to me. “You feeling a little better?”

I opened my fists. Only a little bit of blood, and most of it dried by now. “Well enough.” I said.

“Remind me to never bang you.”

“Remind me to never get insensate around you.”

“HA!” Ana laughed. “Wouldn’t stop me from robbing you blind, kitty-cat. I don’t need to pick your pocket, all I gotta do is get you to buy me lunch.”

“So true.” I said. “Pity. I can only flinch so much before it starts gets noticed.”

“Bull. You’re the only one there who pays attention. Everyone else lives in their own little bubbles of their obsessions and duties.”

“The Ecclisiarchy is surprisingly rational, these days.” I said. “The ones who make it to the palace are all true believers, at least.”

“I sincerely doubt your perception isn’t skewed by all the madness in that place.” Ana sighed. “Well, the preachers are less crazy than the Inquisition, I’ll give you that.”

Our food arrived. I looked out the window as Ana cooed over the food and asked questions to the waiter. All the people in the city, each with their own lives and dreams and fears and aspirations. How pitifully beautiful.

Finally the waiter left, and Ana dug in. I’m not sure which of us was giving the other space, but I felt indebted to her all the same.

“That isn’t a promise.” Ana said, eyes glued to the reflection in her cup. “For all you know He just wants to kill me.”

“Nonetheless, there’s a good chance I’ll be hosting you. Ana. I need to know more about what I’m getting into. I need to know how much danger we’re going to be in.”

“Do I still confuse you?” She smirked. “It’s not that hard. I in the whole sense am a fractured being. Just because I in the personal sense have multiple aspects to myself doesn’t mean I’m any less than a fragment of a human.”

“Yet you still show traits outside of your base drives.”

“Mm.” She took another sip. “Humans weren’t made to be two-dimensional caricatures. If I have a thought that would better suit a me who isn’t me personally, then I simply won’t think that thought. It’ll be thought by that me.

”Kleptomania, Anima, self-analysis, insufferable love of gene-dad-jokes, love of the Sapphic-” She grinned, “obviously, and a few others- all those are mine and mine alone.”

“But how does it work.”

“Well, occasionally I start thinking very, very hard about two or more beautiful women and/or daemonettes flicking each other, so presumably the rest of me has no appreciation for yuri and the associated genres.”

“So it works like intrusive thoughts? If, say, you got into a barfight ‘cause you stole some bloke’s purse and banged his wife, and he said something dumb and you reallywanted to punch him, that desire to punch a man would go to the Crimson King?”

“You’re focusing very hard on this ‘guest’ thing.” Ana pouted. “I mean, what red-blooded pansexual doesn’tget distracted by the thought of two birds getting it on?”

“A) one who also has a healthy dose of self-control and self-restraint, and B) has that everworked on me?”

“Point. But seriously, you’re unusually on edge. Usually that would get you to crack a smile-”

“I’ve got an unstoppable daemon primarch about to arrive in the holiest place in the galaxy.”

“You need to calm down, Amon. You’re too wound up, you’re not thinking clearly-”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Xanalyse. Damn fuckin right I’m tense, I’m about to be the only person standing between the Emperor and oblivion!And I’m all alone because everyone under my command either hates my guts or doesn’t listen to a word I say, and you won’t help me redeem yourself!” He stood, throwing his hands up in exasperation. They got caught under the edge of the table and overcame the strength of the bolts securing it to the floor, flipping the entire table over and spilling food across the room.

They both stared, neither one having expected such a reaction. For a moment the room was quiet but for Amon’s heavy breathing. Ana waited until his breath evened out, or he started up again. He did not.

“… It’s flattering that you think I could destroy Father.” She said, bitter smile on her face. “And… you’re right. I haven’t been very helpful. Maybe it’s time I learned to live with myself.”

“Ana…”

“Delusion. Self-hatred. Wrath. Whoever else you haven’t told me about.” “They may be me, yet I still fear them. And can you blame me? Delusion so powerful it bends reality itself and destroyed all rationality is insanity. If I am wrong, then I must be mad to fear being swallowed up in it.”

“Ana I didn’t-”

She continued. “Self-hatred so strong it lashes out into the warp, psyker powers no longer at the beck and call of the psyker but instead summoning daemons and incurring hatred. Self-fladgillation so extreme it destroys everything and everyone around the poor boy.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Wrath so powerful that the desire to destroy becomes the only known goal of the man. That pursuit of revenge becomes an obsession, stripping away all other goals. To the point that he’d rather be a slave to an uncaring god than let ancient war crimes be forgiven.”

She shook her head. “I must be the stupidest bitch in the galaxy if I’m not desperate to feel that! Tell me, Amon, have you faced down all the ugliest parts of your own heart?”

“…I’m sorry.” Amon said. “That was insensitive of me.” He sighed, and flopped down to the couch.

“…I know that there’s no avoiding myself forever.” She whispered. “But at the same time, I know I’m not strong enough to overcome myself. In the end, it’ll be Reveul’s partner and the King. Billy and me, we’re good as gone.”

She looked Amon head-on. “It’s a bitter loop of growth and despair. I go out, face some unimaginable horror, and I survive because I’m me. I stay unchanged, because either I turn my trauma into rage at the monster, or I lie to myself about how much danger I was in. Except I can’t think those thoughts, and they go to another me. Then that me gets a little stronger, ‘cause there’s more of me personally contributing to his identity.

“You want to know how to fight the King? Then know this; we’re still connected to each other. Every time I meet someone so monstrous I want to destroy that person completely, he feels it for me. And every time he wants to nick someone’s shit, I feel it for him. I am still one person, even if different parts of me control different aspects. If I start changing, if I become a more aggressive person, then that part of me gets stronger.

“That’s why I can give a damn about my sons. That part of me died ten thousand years ago, but that just means any thoughts about them aren’t limited to just one of me. I rebuilt that part of myself from the ground up over these millennia. I’ve changed, and…

“I don’t know how much of me is someone I want to be. If insanity overpowers honor, rage overpowers curiosity, and guilt overpowers innocence I just… I don’t know if I’m someone I can love anymore.”

Amon didn’t know what to say. Perhaps there was nothing to say. Nothing that would make the galaxy they lived in any less of the shit-storm it was.

“I have honor, but not personally.”