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woods2006gal · 6 months

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Chapter 15 - Man's Best Friend with Benefits

Things were tense. Addison wasn’t talking to Dean. Dean was pointedly ignoring Addison. And Sam felt like he was in the middle. At least in the bunker the former couple could easily avoid each other. Sitting in the Impala for the long drive to St. Louis had led to an awkward filled drive. Addison would say something to Sam that was clearly meant for Dean and Dean would do the same thing. “We calling James tonight,” Sam questions looking between Dean and Addison.

“I’ll call him in the morning,” Addison answers, grabbing her duffle bag out of the trunk. “He’s probably asleep.”

“Wonder what he wanted,” Sam says as the hunters walk up to the motel room.

Addison shrugs, unlocking the door and entering the room. “His text just said that he needed help,” she replies. “I mean, he’s a cop. It’s probably job related.”

Dean rolls his eyes. He had been annoyed the whole trip. “The guy saved our lives once, Sammy,” he argues. “It’s not like he—”

“Saved our lives,” Sam pointedly interrupts.

Dean shifts. “Making a beer run. Need anything?”

“I’m good. Ads?”

“No,” Addison replies, setting her bag on one of the beds before walking into the bathroom.

“You sure,” Dean asks.

Sam frowns. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Cause you just tanked a hellhound, which ain’t no slice of pie, there’s a minefield of who knows what crap ahead…Just making sure you’re felling okay,” Dean says.

“I’m fine.”

“Cause we could find another devil dog, you tag out, I snuff the son of a bitch—”

“Dean,” Sam snaps. His annoyance with his brother and Addison was growing. “Kevin hasn’t even figured out what the next trial is yet! Whatever you’re worried about, don’t. I’ll be ready.”

Dean shifts. He wants to argue with his younger brother. But he doesn’t. He forces a smile and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. Sam shrugs off his jacket and tosses it on one of the beds, claiming it. The Impala roars to life, signaling Dean driving off. Addison walks out of the bathroom and plops down on the bed Sam had just claimed. “I hope you don’t kick,” she says, running a hand over her face.

Sam frowns. “We’re not sharing a bed, Ads.”

Addison sits up and stares at him. “I’m not sharing a bed with Dean, so unless you want to…”

“Fine,” Sam lets out, frustrated. He wants to argue with her. To tell her that she and Dean need to figure out how to do the job and to stop putting him in the middle. “Look, Ads, you—” He’s cut off when they hear a scratching at the door. Then a dog whines. They exchange a look. Sam walks over to the door and looks through the peephole. Nothing. He glances at Addison before opening the door. A doberman was sitting there, tongue hanging out of it’s mouth.

The doberman runs into the room. The dog jumps onto the unclaimed bed. “Whoa,” Addison exclaims, jumping up. “Yeah, okay, Dean gets to kill you.”

Sam shoots her annoyed look. He closes the door and walks over to the dog. He checks the red collar the dog was wearing. “No tags,” he says. He runs a hand over the dog’s head. “What’re you doing here, girl?”

The dog flops down on the bed, showing her belly to Sam. Addison winkles her nose. “I’m not sleeping in a bed that smells like dog,” she tells Sam. The dog growls at Addison. “Why did it just growl at me?”

Sam grabs a piece of jerky of his backpack. “Probably because she can tell you don’t like dogs, Ads.”

“I can’t help that I like cats better,” Addison defends. “Kittens are too cute. With their little noses and little toe beans. If Dean wasn’t allergic, we’d already have a cat in the bunker.”

“No, we wouldn’t.”

“We totally would.”

“No, we wouldn’t because we would end up listening to Dean constantly bitching about it.”

“Like how you’ll have to deal with him bitching about the dog being on his bed,” Addison says, smirking. Headlights shine through the blinds and they recognize the familiar rumble of the Impala’s engine.

Sam scratches the dog behind her ears. “Okay, I got some explaining to do,” he tells her. “Just…stay.” He walks out of the motel room and closes the door behind him.

Addison shakes her head and turns her attention to pulling out her laptop. She turns around and freezes. Sitting on the bed was a beautiful woman, wearing a skin tight black dress. “Uh…”

The motel door opens to reveal Sam and Dean. “She can stay the night,” Dean amusedly says, grinning at his younger brother.

“Two seconds ago she was a dog,” Addison informs him.

Sam reaches for the silver knife he had hidden on him. “Who the hell are you,” he demands.

“Not a shape shifter. So you can stash the blade,” the woman replies, standing up. “I’m a familiar.”

Dean frowns. “A what?”

“A familiar,” Addison repeats, staring at the woman. “They’re companions to witches. At least some witches. They split time between human and animal forms.”

The woman nods. “I get a more accurate read on people in my…other persona. Approaching hunters in motel rooms like this…” She waves at hand at herself. “It gets complicated. My name’s Portia. I belong to James Frampton.”

“No, see, that doesn’t work,” Dean argues. “Because that would make our buddy James a witch.”

“Wow, you’re quick.”

“He’s a fucking witch,” Dean exclaims.

“He wasn’t when you met him. But that case you worked with him…”

“Yeah, the lunatic alchemist,” Addison says, remembering the case very well. “It was pretty nasty.”

“James wanted to know more about that world. The black arts…witchcraft…became the center of his life.”

“You’re telling me James the cop became a witch because of us,” Dean disbelievingly argues. He shakes his head.

Portia stares at Dean. “You don’t like dogs, do you?”

“Is James still a cop,” Addison questions.

“He is,” Portia answers. “Homicide detective. His new powers made his work even better.”

“So what does he need from us,” Dean asks.

“Something’s happening to him. It started with excruciating headaches. Screaming sounds in his ears. Horrible nightmares. Unable to sleep or think. He can’t work. It’s like he’s having a breakdown. Maybe you can find a way to help him.”

“Yeah. Here’s the thing. Witches. Not real fans.”

Portia glares. She was angry. “Really. Well, James is a cop. With a spotless record. He’s used his skills for nothing but good. He’s your friend. And he saved your assess. So what if you lose the ignorant bigotry for maybe two seconds and give him a shot?”

Dean shifts. “That was…incredibly hot.”

Addison rolls her eyes. “Portia, the dreams that James has been having. Does he think that they’re real? That he’s actually killing people?”

Portia sighs and turns to Addison. “I think so. At least that’s what I picked up before he started blocking me.”

“What do you mean ‘blocking you,’” Sam questions.

“Familiars and their masters…we can communicate telepathically. I could get inside James’ head any time I wanted. But he’s shut me out,” Portia answers.

“So, more than likely he’s hiding something he doesn’t want you to see,” Addison reasons.

“Possibly,” Portia agrees. “Something dark that’s destroying him. He can’t go to the police and he doesn’t trust the other witches…”

“And he trust us,” Dean asks. “You do know who we are, right? We’re the last people someone like James should tell his troubles to.”

“You’re his friends,” Portia begins. “And…this was my idea. I was the one who sent you the texts under James’ name. He doesn’t know you’re here. But I think you may be all he has.”

Addison shoots Portia a smile. “Portia, tell James we’ll stop by in the morning.”

~*~

Addison shifts. She was sitting the couch next to Dean in James Frampton’s living room. She wasn’t sure what was more awkward: listening to James and Portia fight or sitting next to Dean on the couch. The door opens and doberman quickly walks through the living room, tail tucked between her legs. James walks out of the room and towards them. “Sam. Dean. Addison,” he greets.

“Hi, James,” Addison responds with a smile, standing up. Dean and Sam follow suit.

“Witchcraft, James,” Dean disbelievingly asks. “Really? The fuck were you thinking?”

“You come to help or pile on,” James argues.

“I’m just telling you, you start fucking with the stuff, you can fry wiring.”

“Dean,” Addison snaps, shooting him an annoyed look. She shoots James an apologetic look. “Can you tell us about the dreams? Portia said people were dying in them.”

James scoffs. He sits down in an arm chair. “‘Dying?’ They were torn to bits, Addison. I could feel my fingers ripping into their flesh.”

“But they were dreams,” Dean says.

“Well, I woke up in my bed.”

“So, it was a dream,” Addison questions.

“I’m not so sure.”

Dean lets out a frustrated breath. “Yeah. Not helping, James.”

“Those people died. I checked with the precinct.”

“Maybe you heard about it and it stuck in your head,” Sam reasons.

“You don’t think I told myself all that,” James questions, standing up. He reaches into a duffle bag and pulls out a shirt in a ziplock bag. He pulls out the shirt and hands it to Sam. “Don’t think I didn’t say ‘that wasn’t me…I couldn’t have done such a thing?’”

“Yours?”

James turns the shirt to reveal the monogrammed pocket with the letters JMF. “James Martin Frampton,” he tells them. He sits back down in the arm chair. “What’s happening to me?”

Addison shifts. “Could you have pissed off another witch? Or did another witch hex you or forced you to…”

“It’s possible, I supposed. Never heard of it.”

“How many of these dreams have you had,” Sam asks.

“Four. The most recent last night. A blind man. He started crying as I squeezed his throat…” James trails off. He avoids looking at them.

“Okay man, listen, we’re gonna figure this out, but you have to do your part,” Dean says.

James looks at him. “Which is?”

Dean reached down and grabs his own duffel bag. “You gotta stay put.” He unzips the duffle bag to reveal heavy chains. “House arrest, big guy.”

Addison reaches forward and places a comforting hand on his arm. “Everything’s going to be okay, James,” she softly reassures him. She pays no attention to how tense Dean is beside her.

~*~

“Sam,” Addison begins. She was sitting on Dean’s bed while the other hunter was on the other bed. She lets her MacBook on the bed and turns to Sam. “Do you think that James and Portia…” Sam stares at her. “That they…you know.”

Sam turns his attention back to his laptop. “I think you and Dean just broke up and that if we want to actually help James, then maybe you shouldn’t be flirting with James in front of Dean.”

Addison rolls her eyes. “You think Dean isn’t hitting one any reasonable good looking woman he runs into?”

“He’s not doing it in front of you,” Sam points out.

Addison sighs and falls back onto the bed. She stares at the water stained ceiling. “Stop trying to make me feel bad.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, Ads. You’re hurt. Dean’s hurt. But you guys need to deal with your shit and stop putting me in the middle.”

Addison doesn’t reply, choosing to stare at the ceiling. “Got the rest of it,” Dean announces, walking into the motel room carrying a plastic bag filled with chicken feet. He glances at Addison before turning and shrugging off his jacket.

“Crime scene reports match up exactly with what James told us,” Sam says. “Vics, dates, locations…Most recent one, a blind guy. Just like he said.”

“Not good.”

“I looked up James’ record with police,” Addison says. “He went from rookie detective to lieutenant overnight and his solve record has been a hundred percent for the past four years.”

“Course he’s got booga-booga on his side, right,” Dean replies, setting out the numerous he had gathered. “You know, we’ve never actually used this witch killing spell of Bobby’s. It’s not a sure thing.”

“Is anything we do a sure thing,” Sam asks.

“Well…I like to get the odds in our favor as much as possible.”

“Okay…”

“What,” Dean replies. He doesn’t miss the look on Sam’s face. “I’m concerned, Sam.”

“Concerned,” Sam repeats.

“Yeah.”

“For my well being? Or that I’m gonna screw the trials up?”

“Look, we get too far down the road with this, we can’t go back. It’ll be too late for me to jump in.”

“Who says you’ll have to? Maybe your little brother will actually pull this one off.”

“I’m just saying—”

“I know what you’re saying. You’ve said it,” Sam interrupts. “You know…I’ve been going over and over this…’why doesn’t he trust me?’ Then it hits me. It’s not that you don’t trust me, it’s that you only trust you.”

Dean stares at him. “You done?”

“I’m done if you’re done.”

Dean turns to the table and busies himself. “Look, when get this thing put together, we can’t hesitate. We use it if we have to.”

“That’s if we find the witch who is doing this to James,” Addison says, sitting up. She turns to face him.

“Or if there is no other witch, Ads,” Dean reminds her, looking at her.

“It wouldn’t be the first time that we gave someone a get out of jail free card.”

“Hey, I like James as much as the next guy, but people are getting ganked here. Besides, Benny, Kate…they were forced to be what they were. James chose this.”

~*~

“Are we getting the stink eye here or what,” Dean asks as he and Addison follow Portia through a local witch club. While neither of them were happy to be working with each other at the moment, there was no way Dean was going to let Addison go to the witch club on her own.

“They can tell you’re outsiders,” Portia quietly tells them.

“Are they all witches,” Dean replies, looking around at the patrons scattered around the club.

Addison rolls her eyes. “It is a witch club,” she whispers.

“And..stuff,” Portia adds. “But if there’s information out there about James, they’ll know.”

“How’d James find you, anyhow,” Dean questions.

“Not how it works. The familiar finds the master. And they become inseparable.”

“Guess a lot of people are like that with their pets.”

Addison and Portia stop. “Dean,” Addison hisses. She shoots him a disbelieving look.

Portia glares at him. “I’m not James’ pet.”

Dean shifts. “Well, not all the time…”

“Dean,” Addison hisses once more.

“Not ever,” Portia snaps, clearly annoyed with him. “The master and the familiar…there’s an unbreakable bond. Like a melding of souls. We would die for each other.” Dean can just stare at Portia. Addison shakes her head in disbelief.

“Portia! Over here!”

Portia leads them in the direction of the voice and they find a tall, slender man sitting on a couch. He had a martini in his hand. “Dean, Addison, meet Philippe LeChat,” Portia introduces. “Dean and Addison are Wiccans from Detroit.”

“Really,” Philippe enthusiastically replies, looking between the two hunters. “Well. Sit! Sit!” He motions to the couch across from him and they sit down. Addison frowns as Dean presses close to her.

“Spencer here,” Portia asks.

“Somewhere.”

Dean sneezes and they stare at him. “Weird. I only do that around cats.”

Philippe arches an eyebrow. He smiles at Addison and she can’t help but smile back. “Tell me about James. Lot of buzz out there,” he says to Portia.

“All gossip,” Portia says, clearly irritated. She turns to Dean and Addison. “The community has a little attitude going.”

Philippe rolls his eyes. “He brings it on himself. A…There’s the whole cop thing. Witch/cop is he nuts?”

“Exactly what I said,” Dean agrees.

“There’s you, babe,” Philipe turns his attention back to Portia. “It isn’t done, Portia. And you know it.”

Dean and Addison exchange a confused look. “Sorry. Remind me. What isn’t done?”

Portia avoids looking at them. “Portia.”

The hunters turn to see a man wearing a dark suit. He eyes them with a look of distrust. “We’re…Wiccans. From Detroit,” Dean tells him.

“Spencer’s the man to ask,” Portia quietly says to them.

“Oh. Hi,” Addison brightly greets. “Have you, uh, ever heard of a spell that allows one witch to control the actions of another witch,” she asks. Dean sneezes once more and Spencer stares at him.

“No, I’ve never heard of a thing like that. I don’t think it’s possible,” Spencer answers her. He turns to Portia. “How’s James? I worry about him.”

“Better,” Portia replies. “I’ll tell him you asked.”

Spencer nods. He turns to Philippe. “Philippe, it’s time we were going.”

Philippe stands up. “Of course. Good night.” He lightly touches Dean’s shoulder. “So nice to meet you.”

Philippe changes into a black cat and leaps into Spencer’s arms. “I knew it,” Dean exclaims. Addison lightly smacks his chest with the back of her hand. Dean’s phone rings. He stands up and pulls Addison up with him. He pulls her towards a quiet corner. Dean pulls out his phone and answers it. “Yeah.” Addison leans in close to hear. Dean shifts. He wasn’t going to pretend that being close to her didn’t have an effect on him.

“Where are you guys,” Sam questions.

“Witch club, why,” Dean replies.

“Listen. I just got the lab work back from the blood on James’ shirt.”

“And?”

“Not good. The blood is an exact match to to vic number three.”

“Pretty much says it all, doesn’t it,” Dean says, staring at Addison. She sadly sighs.

~*~

James’ house is dark and quiet that night when the three hunters quietly walk in. Dean carried bottle with Bobby’s witch killing potion inside of it. They walk through the house before entering the master bedroom. James was chained to the bed. He looks at them, resigned to his fate. Addison shoots him a sad look. Dean holds up the bottle and pulls out a lighter. He flicks open the lighter and it lights up.

“No, Dean!” They turn to see Portia standing in the doorway, wearing a nightie. “Just listen to me. Please. It’s not James!” Portia moves to stand next to the bed. “Tonight…James and I were close. Without psychological walls. Intimate. You know how that is.” Dean stares. “No defenses. One entity.”

Dean just continues to stare. Addison rolls her eyes. She leans in close to Dean. “They had sex,” she softly explains, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

“Wow, you sound disappointed, Ads,” Dean says and Addison stares at him. Dean looks between James and Portia. “Didn’t see that coming.”

“We have an usual relationship,” Portia tells them. “Familiars aren’t supposed to be sexually involved with their witches.”

“Understandable. You being a…and he’s a…” Dean trails off. He looks between Sam and Addison. “Little help here?”

“You dug your own grave,” Addison whispers.

“Let’s just say some people are a bit set in the ways,” Portia continues. “Philippe for example.”

Dean nods. “That’s why he had a bug up his ass.”

“James and I hadn’t made love in weeks. His agony ate him up and he shut me out. But tonight…I saw his thoughts. And the memories of the murders.”

“Sorry, this is you talking us out of banking James?”

“Dean. That’s all I saw. Just the kills. No preparation, no thought process, no anticipation, no stalking, no motive. Just the kills without context.”

Sam frowns. “No other awareness of the crimes?”

“I could see everything he did on those days. Everything was normal. Then a flash of murder. Then normal. Doesn’t that at least suggest he’s under another’s control.”

“Except Spencer said it wasn’t possible,” Addison reminds.

“He said he never heard of it.” The trio exchanges a look. “James is chained. He’s confined. At least take a shot.”

~*~

Addison shifts as the sits on the couch in living room of James’ house. Dean had gone with Portia to meet a contact of James’ while Sam had gone to the police station. Addison elected to stay behind and do research into whether there was a spell that could control another witch. She stands up from the couch and walks into James’ bedroom.

James, having changed into jeans and a cream colored sweater, was chained to the bed. “So, I was curious,” Addison begins, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“About what came first,” James finishes. “Girl or dog?” Addison nods and he sighs. “Girl came first. And no.”

“Oh. That’s good to know.”

“Dean said you were disappointed,” James points out.

Addison shakes her head. “What? No. No. No. No. I mean, it’s been such a long time since we…” She trails off at the disbelieving look on his face and lets out a frustrated breath. “Yeah. Just a little bit.”

James shifts. “I’m surprised you and Dean haven’t gotten together.”

Addison sighs. “We did. It was good. Then the same problems we’ve been having for years interferes and we had a fight. And it was over. Same shitty cycle that keeps repeating.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“Dean isn’t exactly the type to sit and talk about his feelings,” Addison tells him.

“Maybe you just need to make him sit and talk.” James tugs at the chains around his wrists. “You could always try chaining him to a bed.”

~*~

Dean closes the book and stares at Addison, who was sitting in the armchair with her MacBook in her laptop. “You and James were looking pretty close earlier,” he says. He couldn’t take the tension between them.

Addison glances at him. “We were just talking,” she tells him.

Dean nods, not convinced. “Yeah. Talking.”

Addison closes her laptop and sets it on the coffee. “Dean, just spit it out already.”

Dean shifts. He starts to open his mouth when the door opens and Sam walks in. “Hey,” he greets, thankful for the distraction. “We’ve been going through all of Bobby’s data.”

“Anything,” Sam asks, looking between them.

“Yeah, there’s a spell for implanting images in someone else’s brain,” Addison answers.

“What?”

“It creates false memories in another witch’s mind.”

“So, James could be convinced he killed those people without ever touching ‘em? So, maybe it is someone else?”

“Who’s going to hell of a lot trouble to make this look like James,” Dean adds. “What do the cops say?”

“That’s the thing. According to Ed Stoltz, they’ve got zip. But they’re onto something. The lab tech who’s working the case had a thick file folder marked James Frampton.”

“Ed didn’t mention that?”

“He did not,” Sam replies. He smiles at his older brother as Dean and Addison stand up from the couch. “Oh, by the way, gotta hand it to you. It’s been fifteen hours since Portia told us about her night with James. And not one doggy style joke from you.”

Dean chuckles. “Made you say it.”

Addison rolls her eyes and walks into James’ bedroom with the boys following her. “Portia tells me my ‘friends’ in the community want to burn me at the stake,” James tells them.

“Not gonna lie, it’s gettin’ ugly.”

“And the cops maybe have more on the case than they’re saying. Including a thick dossier on you,” Sam adds.

“Me,” James questions.

Sam nods. “I got a feeling whatever they know is under lock and key at the precinct. Room C-110.”

“Then we need to break in.”

“Sure. Locked room in a joint swarmin’ with cops twenty-four seven. Why didn’t I think of that,” Dean sarcastically says.

“Dean. A witch can go to a place without having to go to a place.”

Dean shifts. “Like…phone sex?” He ignores the disbelieving looks from Sam and Addison.

“Astral projection,” James corrects. “I can project my awareness anywhere. From the comforts of right here.” He holds up his wrists. “But these come off.”

“I don’t think so,” Sam tells him.

“Irons on, no magic. No magic, no break-in.”

After the boys have a silent conversation and they reluctantly free James from the iron chains, Addison finds herself standing across from the three men. “James, are you sure you’re still able to do this,” Portia asks. She was standing next to Addison.

“Wow, there’s a confidence building,” Dean mutters. “Anything else before I become a disembodied thing completely at his mercy?”

“Just close your eyes. Whatever I see I will pass on to you two,” James says, placing his hands on Sam and Dean’s shoulders. He closes his eyes. “Libera me occult cognoscere veritatem.” James’ eyes fly open and roll back to become white. It only last a few minutes before James snaps open his eyes.

“The fuck, James,” Dean exclaims. “I coulda had a stroke! Who whips around backwards like that?”

“Stoltz is building a case against me,” James tells Portia and Addison.

Portia frowns. “What?”

“Ed’s always wanted that big breakthrough case. Nailing a renegade cop would qualify.”

Addison sighs. “Especially one he had a grudge against.”

James nods. “My first case. They dropped him as lead detective and went with me.”

“So, this is payback,” Sam clarifies.

“Wait. He can’t just arrest you,” Portia argues. “He needs evidence, he needs—”

“He’s got it,” James interrupts. “Everything he needs.”

“From who?”

“Phil. The Cat,” Dean answers.

Portia stares at Dean. “Philippe.”

James stands up. Anger was rolling off of him. Sam grabs the chains and stands up. “Easy there, buddy, let’s talk this thorough,” he says.

James starts towards the door but Dean quickly blocks. “James…” James waves a hand and sends the hunters flying to into the walls. They land on the floor with a hard thud.

~*~

Addison lets out a groan and slowly opens her eyes. She moves to press a hand to her forehead and finds that she’s chain to James’ bed. She looks to see that Dean and Sam are also chained to the bed. James’ is nowhere in sight. Neither is Portia. Dean groans and she turns to see he’s waking up. Sam shifts and they turn to see him waking up. “You okay,” Dean questions.

Sam shoots him an annoyed look. He holds up a wrist. “Look at me.”

Addison reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a lock pick kit. She quickly picks the lock open on her wrist. She moves over to Dean and works on his lock. “You know, I don’t care if he is a cop. Witches are dicks,” Dean mutters. After getting the lock on Sam open, the trio quickly makes their way out of the house.

By the time they reach the witch club, James and Spencer are in the middle of a argument. They listen, learning that Spencer that did indeed kill the people. “So, James didn’t kill those people. You did,” Dean says, as they step out from the shadows.

Spencer smiles at Dean and Addison. “The Wiccans from Detroit.” He waves a hand, sending the hunters into the wall.

“Again,” Addison mutters.

James waves a hand and sends Spencer flying through the club. Spencer chuckles. “Seriously,” Spencer taunts. “You want to take me on?” The hunters shake off the hit. Dean pulls out the bottle filled with the witch killing potion. “It’s not only James’ head I can get inside!”

Addison falls to her knees as images flash through her head. Fighting with Dean. Watching Dean die. Leaving the note in between the beer bottles while Dean sleeps. She presses a hand to her forehead. An image of a man in front of her appears. Lightning flashes. Angel wings outlined in blue. She doesn’t see Spencer disappear in a purple smoke after Dean throws the witch killing potion at him. The images stop.

Dean runs over to her. “Ads,” he lets out, placing a hand on her shoulders. She leans against him, panting.

~*~

Addison bites her lip. She finds Dean in the kitchen. After leaving James and Portia, who had left St. Louis, they had made their way back to the Bunker. Which had basically become their home. She clears her throat. “I, uh, I wanted to apologize,” she nervously says, shoving her hands in her back pockets. “For, uh, for slapping you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s fine,” Dean tells her.

Addison shakes her head. “No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have done it. And I’m sorry.” She bites her lip. “We need to figure how to do this without being pissed at each other all the time.”

“We’ll just do what we always do, Ads. It’s just like all the other time—”

“No, it’s not just like all the other times,” Addison interrupts, stepping closer to him. “And you know that, Dean. So, we need to figure out how to do this or…”

“Or what? You’ll leave?”

“Yeah. It might be for the best.”

“No.”

“Dean—”

“No,” Dean snaps. “Absolutely not. You’re not going anywhere.”

Addison sighs. “Dean—”

“What the fuck do you want me to say, Addison,” Dean exclaims. “That I’m sorry. Because I am. I fucking love you. I mean, I want to do this right. But…but you deserve way better than this shitty life with me.”

Addison stares at him. Then she quickly walks over to him and presses her lips against his. He wraps his arms around her. “Dean,” she whispers. “I love you. I have loved you since we were teenagers.”

Dean closes his eyes. “Ads.”

“I just want to be with you. I don’t care about the other stuff. I just want you, Dean,” Addison softly tells him. “Why do you think I said yes all those years ago?” Dean opens his eyes. He rests his forehead against hers. She smiles at him. He kisses her. She was always picking him. The kiss quickly escalates. Her back hits the refrigerator.

“No sex in communal areas,” Sam reminds, walking into the kitchen.

Dean pulls back. He lifts up Addison and her legs wrap around his waist. “Don’t bother us,” he tells his younger brother before walking out of the kitchen, carrying Addison. Sam shakes his head. He doesn’t fight the smile on his face; glad that they had hashed things out between them.

#supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester #addison sloan #sam winchester #ofc #oc

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adiarosefandoms · 2 years

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Hocus Pocus 2

Review: *Spoilers start at the end of paragraph 3

Look, I am a witchy girl. I love black cats, and medieval/Victorian fashion, and all things magic. With this I have also fallen in love with witch-themed movies and books. Wicked, Practical Magic, and Harry Potter I all love. But little else signifies the transition into the Halloween season for me quite like Hocus Pocus. Me and my family have been watching this movie every October for, I don’t even know how many years. So, you can imagine that I was very excited, but skeptical, when Disney announced that they would be coming out with a second movie. And all I can say is, I am pleasantly surprised. I’m not sure how bad a movie can even be with the Sanderson Sisters at the helm, and while the first Hocus Pocus is superior, this one was still loads of fun to watch and I have zero regrets. I don’t care about the new teen leads. I had no emotional connection to them, I didn’t care about them, they didn’t matter. They were a means to an end to get this second movie made. But every scene with the Sandersons or Billy, pure childhood nostalgia. To start with the real stars of this movie, lets discuss the witches. I remember vividly just transitioning from wanting to be a princess one day, to wanting to be a witch the next. They’re stories always just end up being much more sympathetic, and they just seem like more fun. Seeing the sisters on the screen, Bette Midler, Sarah Jessica Parker, and Kathy Najimy just looked like they were having so much fun. The dynamic between the three girls is as amusing and entertaining as it has always been, but they added an extra emotional element by giving us an origin where Winifred was almost taken from her sisters. And the ending where Winnie sees her sisters die, and without a second thought says that she doesn’t care about her powers, she wants her sisters back, it was just beautiful. But it was made even greater when revealed the sisters weren’t returning, she was going to them, and Winnie just had the most content smile on her face. You just can’t not love those witchy sisters. Next: Billy. I always liked Billy a lot. Next to Sarah he was my favorite character. But he just became even more lovable in this film, and even more like Johnny Depp Jack Sparrow/Edward Scissorhands character, so that I fully fell in love with him. I was skirting the edge of that pond before, but now I’m completely submerged and have zero regrets. I don’t know why actors focusing on physicality makes me fall for them, but every jerky movement Billy made just made me fall further and further. I also just loved the way he talked, and his insults to Winifred. Doug Jones was just fantastic in this role. I didn’t care for when the Sandersons appeared and did the musical number in the forest, because that’s meant to bewitch people and there was no one they were trying to bewitch. I was suddenly super afraid they were just gonna Disney Channel-ify the whole thing, but their cover of “One Way or Another” was super fun to watch. Also, I’m a little confused. Winnie plainly stated in the original movie that her book was given to her by Satan himself, so either that witch in the woods was Satan in disguise and Disney thought that Satan is too scary for kids, or the writers just forgot a key part of the canon they had to follow. I’m hoping it’s the former. I also really enjoyed all the callbacks to the original, including the fourth wall break of two guys actually watching a scene from the first Hocus Pocus. We had another black cat (though nonspeaking), Sarah’s song was reprised several times, and we got a random town’s lady in the mothers iconic Madonna costume. There were also mentions of Sarah’s hidden rat tails, talk of the spell that would one day be used on Binx, Mary riding a vacuum again (but this time two roombas), the use of water to trick the witches, the sisters saying “Buh-bye”, and Sarah gleefully shouting “Amok! Amok! Amok!”

Overall, the movie was just a good time. The Sandersons were fabulous as ever, most jokes landed, Billy was amazing, and it was about time that a book shed a tear after all the times they’ve made me cry. Is there going to a third one? The post-credit scene sure made it look like it, but I would be satisfied with this movie concluding the Hocus Pocus story. I was incredibly impressed with the writers’ abilities to not only emulate key characteristics of the witches, but also add more depth to them. If you’re looking for a high-quality feature, this movie isn’t for you. But if you want to have some fun, experience a spin on nostalgia, and get into the season, it’s a really good and quick watch. After all, it’s not meant to be a life-changing thing. It’s just a bunch of hocus pocus.

#hocus pocus #hocus pocus 2 #movies #halloween #halloween movies #disney

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starwarstbbfan · 2 years

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THE BAD BATCH: THE RUNAWAY

Chapter 52 - Broken Bonds

Ok, so this chapter is kind of bittersweet in a sense. You're going to love and hate Crosshair. Read at your own risk.

TRIGGER WARNING: Calli does experience an anxiety attack. I don't go into too much detail, but if it'll trigger you, please don't read. In the original posting of this I'd said it was a panic attack, but after some research and stuff I feel it's more of an anxiety attack.

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If there was one thing Calli hated, it was not being able to go on missions. The day after the vacation the team received a mission and when Hunter told her she couldn't go, Calli just about had a fit and asked why.

"Because you're the one who wanted a pet, and this mission might take a couple or more days and I don't trust that thing on the ship by itself until he's fully trained. So, you're just going to have to sit this one out." Calli tried protesting again, "If you keep questioning my orders, I will turn this ship around and we'll take Scruffy back to Naboo." That shut Calli right up, yet she still wasn't happy about having to miss out on all the fun.

So, she came up with a way to be involved with the mission. With Wrecker's permission, a small camera was attached to his helmet that connected to her data pad so she could watch what was happening and for added measure she also wore her own helmet to communicate with the boys. It was brilliant and Wrecker liked making Calli happy so he was willing to let her attach the camera - he'd be disappointed as well if he couldn't go on a mission. Hunter and Tech thought it was a bit much but allowed their little sister to do this if it meant she would stay behind without any more complaint and their ship would be in one piece.

So there Calli was, in her sleepwear with her helmet on, living vicariously through her squad mates. At first it seemed like a good and quite frankly ingenious idea, but the boys quickly realized the downfall of having Calli watch their every move. One of said downfalls were the comments made by Calli.

After she slid on her helmet and tuned into the comm frequency, Calli had said with enthusiasm, "Alright, let's flank 'em and spank 'em boys." The phrase caused the brothers to pause and each of them wore mortified looks underneath their helmets. Tech briefly wondered if he'd given Calli too much of the painkillers because she'd never said something so... odd. And the comments only got worse (and more critical) from there.

(To Tech after he almost ran into a tree.) "Hey speedy thumbs, get your nose out of that data pad and watch where you're going!"

"Yeah Wrecker! Rip that droid's head off! Now beat the others with it!" (Wrecker was happy to oblige.)

(To Crosshair.) "You call that shooting? A blind womp rat could do better!" Calli said all this from the comfort of her bed, munching on Mantell mix and drinking soda and keeping an eye on her furry companion who snoozed on the bed next to her without a care in the world that Calli was annoying the heck out of her brothers.

Before Calli had a chance to say something about Hunter, Crosshair had had enough, going over to Wrecker, he ripped the camera off of his helmet, and proceeded to throw it to the ground and crush it under the heel of his boot. Calli could only watch helplessly and when the screen went black, she pouted like a child after. That put an end to that.

So now Calli was on a mission of her own: training Scruffy so he could be trusted enough to be left alone. Should be simple right? The teen dubbed it "Calli's Cat Bootcamp" and was going to dedicate every waking moment to drilling new commands and habits into the small feline - kind of like Hunter did with Calli when she first joined the squad. But there was something Calli quickly realized after ten minutes in the first hour of cat training: Cats like doing whatever the kriff they want. It took a lot of bribing with food to get him to do anything, and a lot of the Nuna Jerky they picked up from Naboo was quickly gobbled up by the little guy as it was the only thing they had in the way of treats. But it was a for a good cause, Calli reasoned, so the others shouldn't be mad at her... for too long that is... maybe. Crosshair would be miffed, as he'd liked it the most, but Calli could care less about making him angry.

The usually tight knit siblings - officially dubbed the "deadly duo" by their brothers - were still at odds with each other due to the argument they had on Naboo. To no one's surprise, both were too stubborn to take the first step in resolving the issue and Calli felt like he partially did what he did with the camera because of his anger towards her (truth be told she wasn't too far off with that theory).

After the camera debacle, Hunter - along with the others - decided it was time for Crosshair and Calli to make up. Having the two angry at one another created a tense and uncomfortable atmosphere in the ship for everyone and it was high time to put an end to it. Hunter knew that Crosshair didn't mean what he said, it was only because Calli's injury scared him and he was not very good at expressing his feelings, which resulted in him taking his anger out on everyone around him. And to make things worse, Calli was too headstrong to make the first step and talk to Crosshair.

There wasn't any yelling and fighting per se, but somehow the silence was even more deafening and kept everyone on edge. Calli had even resorted to sleeping in the spare bed in the med bay so as to avoid Crosshair even further by refusing to sleep in the same room as him.

Finally, the other three members of Clone Force 99 decided to take matters into their own hands to restore peace and unity into their squad. What was Hunter's solution? To lock those two in a room together and not let them out until they resolved their differences.

Crosshair was laying on his bunk, taking a little cat nap despite it only being mid morning. He was catching up on sleep since during the mission they hadn't really been able to get more than a couple hours' sleep at any given time. His eyes shot open when he was snatched from his bed by Wrecker, who'd been ordered to carry him to the med bay. Calli had just finished getting ready for the day and thank goodness she was fully dressed when the door slid open without any warning, and Crosshair was tossed inside the room - quite literally - falling unceremoniously to the ground with a pained grunt. By the time the sniper had gathered his bearings and gotten up, the door had been closed and locked.

"WRECKER!" Crosshair shouted while furiously pounding on the door with his fist, "Let me out or I swear when I escape, you're dead! Or worse, you're Lula will get it!"

"What the heck is going on?" Calli asked, not understanding why Wrecker deposited Crosshair like a sack of potatoes when he had been peacefully sleeping. There was one thing worse than regular, grumpy Crosshair, and that's Crosshair when he first wakes up - and when he's rudely woken up for no good reason like now, well let's just say all weapons need to be hidden until he calms down. And now he's in the same room as her.

Tech's voice came through the intercom that could be heard from any part of the ship,

"Hunter has ordered that you two be locked up so you can work out your differences and reestablish the peace in our team. We are going to go on a supply run so you have approximately two and half hours to fix things. And we're bringing Scruffy with us." Calli and Crosshair glanced at each other, then the former snarled and faced the sealed exit.

"Come on, this is ridiculous!" Crosshair yelled loud enough for Hunter to hear from the other side of the door where he was undoubtedly standing with a triumphant smirk on his face. Calli came to the rescue though, but not for him - she'd rather jump off a cliff than have a heart-to-heart conversation with Crosshair.

"Oh, calm down, I can just rewire the panel on our side and get us out in no time."

"Then get to it!" rolling her eyes, Calli walked over to the panel by the door, making sure to not so nicely nudge Crosshair out of the way to give her room to work. She removed the cover and just as she began fiddling with the wires, the power suddenly cut out, making her heart sink. Calli let out a string of very colorful words, most of them being directed at Tech even though he probably couldn't hear them now.

"What's the problem?" Crosshair asked and Calli scoffed at his denseness while also trying to get rid of the sudden heavy weight on her chest.

"Uh, Tech just turned off the electricity genius, or did you not notice the lights turn off?" Calli snapped despite the rising panic within her with each passing second, they remained in darkness with the door locked.

"I noticed, smart mouth." Crosshair bit back, not about to appear dumb. "I'll just find a flashlight if you need it."

"A flashlight won't help the fact that all the power has been shut down in this room, Crosshair! I can't open an electrical door if the electricity is off! Do you understand?!" This was one of the rare times Crosshair was embarrassed and he felt his face heat up but that didn't stop him from trying to redeem himself.

"Of course I do, I'm not an idiot!"

"Debatable." Calli muttered under her breath, leaning her head forward until it touched the cool durasteel wall that sent a shiver down her spine, but she didn't move away, hoping the cold would help ward away the oncoming headache from stress of being locked up with the last person she wanted to be around. His hurtful words were still fresh in her mind, and she was in no way going to apologize because in her mind there was nothing she had to apologize for. But that's not all Calli had on her mind.

When the lights cut out and they were engulfed in darkness, it brought her back to that little room that the Kaminoans had her imprisoned in after each experiment session.

Calli's heartbeat was steadily increasing, and she was beginning to tremble, starting with her hands and spreading out, eventually until her entire body was shaking uncontrollably. She knew what was happening, after all, anxiety attacks could happen if you're triggered by something that reminded you of a traumatic event you experienced. Except for Calli it wasn't just one singular incident - the trauma she experienced lasted for years, then she got a break, but then she wound up on Kamino once more and the cycle started all over again. The only difference was that in the few short weeks where the experiments resumed, she was locked away in the room instead of in the suite she shared with Jango and Boba. Ever since then, Calli hated enclosed spaces that had no way out, which she now found herself in a similar situation.

Calli knew that this time was different, as her squad mates had no intention of hurting her and would eventually let them out. But even still, their plan had unintentionally triggered Calli, and she was on the verge of having a full blast attack - something she hadn't experienced in a while.

She tried her best to fight it, trying every technique she knew. And she did her best to stay quiet so as not to alert the other person in the room that she was panicking. The last thing Calli wanted was to have him call her weak for the second time on top of everything else - she didn't need that right now. She needed to get out, but couldn't think of a way out in her current panicked state.

Despite her best efforts, Calli accidentally let out a choked noise from her mouth as breathing was suddenly the hardest thing to do. Her throat felt like it was closing up and that brought on a new wave of panic.

Crosshair heard the peculiar noise and squinted in Calli's direction, seeing her collapse to her knees and plant her palms on the wall in front of her in an attempt to ground herself.

"The kriff is wrong with you?" Crosshair asked, not yet realizing what Calli was experiencing which is why his question came out as cold. When Calli didn't offer a snippy remark back, Crosshair stood from where he'd been sitting on the hospital bed and took a step closer to the teen, his gut telling him something wasn't right. "Hey, what's going on?" He questioned in a more civil tone. Calli tried to say she was fine, but all that came out was something between a gasp and a sob as everything was blurring together and she couldn't form a coherent thought, much less a sentence.

Crosshair was quickly on his knees next to Calli and now that he was closer, he could notice her trembling form. When he attempted to touch his sister's arm, she flinched away as if he'd just burned her. He didn't have to be a freaky genius to know what was happening.

Without thinking, Crosshair began banging on the door, hoping that the others hadn't left yet, followed by some shouting for them to be let out. But it was futile as the Havoc Marauder was empty and the only thing he accomplished was making Calli's condition worse from the loud noise.

Crosshair was at a loss for what to do and say, having never dealt with this sort of thing - alone that is. Usually, his brothers were around to calm Calli down when she was upset, but something like this hadn't happened before, that he knew of. "Just - just take a few deep breaths." He tried saying, hoping it was the right thing to say.

Through all the spiraling thoughts and turmoil going on inside her, Calli had heard what Crosshair said and attempted to slow her breathing and take deep breaths like he told her. But it didn't work and she was now hyperventilating.

Crosshair was now becoming more concerned. What is he supposed to do? He's knowledgeable about guns and war not - not feelings. Despite his aversion, Crosshair couldn't sit by and let Calli suffer by herself. He couldn't help but briefly think "Why me?", definitely feeling out of his element.

He did the first comforting gesture he could think of, which is placing a consoling hand on Calli's shoulder despite her earlier rebuff, and much to Crosshair's relief she didn't recoil like before. In fact it seemed to help, at least Crosshair thought so, as she removed one of her hands from the wall and gripped the hand on her shoulder so hard the sniper feared she'd break it. He did his best to ignore the pain and spoke to the girl in a way that wasn't like his normal manner(i.e. Condescending and scornful), and again it was difficult for someone who's usually cold and calculating.

"Calli, look at me." Crosshair ordered in a gentle voice that surprised him and if Calli didn't feel like she was dying she'd have found it strange too. Calli didn't respond and Crosshair wondered if she could even hear him. He found himself wishing that Tech was here, as he'd definitely know the answer. So Crosshair used his other hand, as Calli still had his right one in a death grip, and gently coaxed Calli's head to turn and face him. Seeing the fear and pain in her eyes made Crosshair hurt and he stroked her cheek to wipe the tears that were running down her face, surprising himself again for being so delicate. Her eyes were also unfocused, so even though she was facing Crosshair, it didn't really help any.

Without saying anything, Crosshair removed his hand from Calli's cheek and wrapped that arm around her shoulders, keeping his grip light in case she didn't want to be hugged. When he was met with no resistance, he began speaking to Calli again.

"I don't know if you can hear me, but you're safe. No one's going to hurt you." He said in the same soothing tone. Calli let out a choked sob, and Crosshair wasn't sure it was her way of trying to acknowledge what he said. "Just focus on my breathing." Throughout all the chaos and confusion going on in her head, Calli managed to process Crosshair's words and she used all her willpower to match his breathing pattern. Crosshair would breathe in deeply, Calli would do the same a second later and both would exhale at the same time. Crosshair would praise her every thirty seconds or so, and when Calli's breathing would suddenly become more erratic he'd calmly tell her to slow down and try again.

Neither were sure how much time had passed, but eventually Calli had calmed down and became aware of her surroundings. It was still dark, but Crosshair's presence kept her from going back into a panic. Speaking of which, when he noticed Calli seemed to come back to reality..

"You alright kid?" Crosshair asked while releasing her from the hug. Calli settled against the wall next to the sniper and nodded slowly.

"I-I think so..." She answered, her voice still a little shaky and she was still trembling somewhat. And Calli definitely had a headache now. "U-Um, do you think you can look for a flashlight?" Crosshair nodded and got up to go look in the cabinets on the other side of the room, having to feel around to make sure he wouldn't run into the bed. Even with enhanced eyesight, he still couldn't when it was pitch black.

Calli heard her brother rifle around in the darkness, knocking things over and even letting out a curse word when he accidentally bumped his head at one point. Calli was just about to tell him to forget it when suddenly the room flooded in a dim light, Crosshair having found a flashlight and turning it on. He grabbed a couple bottles from the bedside table and came to sit at Calli's side, holding out the bottles to her. One was a water bottle; the other was painkillers for the headache. Calli accepted them with a quiet "thank you" and the room was silent as Calli popped the proper dose of pills in her mouth and downed about half the water in the bottle. As Calli swallowed and screwed the cap back on the bottle, she tried to figure out something to say to the man sitting beside her. Crosshair helped her, even though he was mad at her. This wasn't the first time Calli was astonished by his actions. Just when she thought she had him figured out, Crosshair threw her in for a loop by doing something unexpected.

Now that Calli had recovered from her panic attack, the previous tension was back and neither wanted to address it. Eventually Calli couldn't stand the silence anymore and said the first thing that came to mind.

"So are we just gonna sit here until the others get back."

"Unless your big brain can figure out another way out of here, then yes." Calli pursed her lips and began racking her brain for an idea. It only took her ten seconds to figure out an alternative way of escaping. She recalled when the Bad Batch had imprisoned her on the original Havoc Marauder - she got out by using the -

"Air vents!" Callista exclaimed excitedly. It was completely out of the blue and caused Crosshair to startle, but the female clone didn't pay attention as she took the flashlight into her hands and searched for a vent. She'd never told the boys how she'd gotten out of that storage closet, otherwise Tech would have thought to block the vents with something, though that would have restricted fresh air from coming into the room and well it's easy to figure out why that would be a problem.

Finding the vent, Calli let out a chuckle of triumph at the revelation that she'd outsmarted Tech which was a rare occurrence. Crosshair, who had gotten up and now stood behind Calli who was removing the cover of the vent, peered down at the opening in the wall that Calli might be able to squeeze into, but he definitely wouldn't be able to.

"There's no way I'll fit in there!" He pointed out, and Calli let out a scoff.

"Duh," she retorted, "That's why I'll crawl through and once I get out, I'll turn the power back on and let you out." Crosshair narrowed his eyes which were full of distrust.

"How do I know you won't just leave me in here as revenge?"

"Oh please, when have I ever done something that spiteful?" Crosshair crossed his arms and gave her a deadpanned look, and Calli retracted her comment, "You know what, don't answer that. But you're just going to have to trust me." Calli didn't wait for Crosshair's reply. Putting the flashlight in her mouth with the light shining the way as she crawled into the vent, having flashbacks to her previous time doing this. She also felt her chest become heavy but this time a panic attack didn't come on as Calli was on a mission.

It wasn't too long before she found another opening and crawled out, now being in the lounge. Once Calli was on her feet, she took a couple steps toward the cockpit before pausing as an idea popped into her mind. Calli walked over to the med bay door and called out to Crosshair to make sure he was there - even though there was no way he could have gotten out.

"Yes, I'm still here." Crosshair answered coolly, as if he'd be anywhere else, "Go turn the power back on so I can get out of here!" Calli swallowed thickly and she worked up the courage to say what she was about to, knowing he wouldn't like it.

"I will but first you need to apologize." There was a brief silence before Crosshair all but exploded.

"What?!" Yep, definitely didn't like that. But Calli stood her ground.

"You heard me." She told Crosshair, and she heard him growl in frustration while slamming a fist onto the door.

"Quit playing around and open the damn door!"

"There's a reason the boys locked us in there," Calli said calmly, totally disregarding his demands though she could practically envision him shaking with rage. Yet she continued, "- and if we don't resolve things, they're just gonna come up with another half-baked plan. So just apologize and they'll leave us alone." There was again silence on the other end for a brief moment and Calli held her breath in anticipation, wondering if she'd get an answer at all. It wouldn't be a surprise if he chose to remain in the dark because admitting he was wrong was not something he excelled at.

"Fine." Crosshair spat out and there was another pause, the sniper having to suppress his pride to let the next two words leave his mouth. "I'm... Sorry." he let out a moody huff after, "There, are you happy now?"

Calli stared at the door, waiting for the satisfaction of getting her brother to apologize to come... only it didn't. Instead, she felt more hurt because it was obvious Crosshair didn't mean what he said. He only did it so she'd let him out, yet Calli had hoped there would have been some emotion, some remorse over his hurtful words.

The teen wordlessly headed for the cockpit and not long after the power to the ship was turned back on. Crosshair breathed a sigh of relief when the lights in the medbay flickered back on and a second later the door slid open. He sauntered out, thinking that everything was right as rain with the universe now and heading to the lounge area where he waited for Calli to come into. He was going to ask if she wanted to watch something together - believe or not there were a few select movies and shows that even he admitted he enjoyed. And maybe they could plan a little revenge on the other boys.

"What's up with you?" Crosshair asked, his tone lighthearted which was unusual for the sniper, as he was rarely in a good enough mood to be so happy. This just made Calli feel worse. Maybe the panic attack made her more emotional in the aftermath and maybe she was overreacting but at the moment Calli didn't care. It wasn't so much Crosshair's phony apology that hurt her, more the fact of what he'd said to her that morning after she'd been shot. He said she was weak. Has he thought of her as weak this entire time? Did he consider her a member of the team or just a liability? All these questions spiraled around in her head like a tornado and honestly it was just making her feel tired. When asked if she was ok, Calli turned to look at Crosshair with the same blank expression.

"Why should I answer that? You'll just tell me I'm weak again." Crosshair let out a sigh of exasperation.

"Are you still on that? I thought my apology fixed everything?" Calli chuckled mirthlessly.

"It was a very crappy apology."

"What, do I have to get down on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?" Crosshair retorted dryly. Normally Calli would reply with a jeering comment back, but she just felt too drained to do so.

"You can shout it from the rooftops for all I care - but if you don't actually feel sorry then it means nothing." Crosshair sighed again and took a seat in the copilot's chair, looking at Calli with slight annoyance yet keeping his temper in check. He didn't want her to break down again.

"Come on Cal, don't you think you're overreacting just a bit?" Calli shrugged indifferently, and Crosshair found her lack of emotion unnerving if he was being honest.

"Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is that you've made me question my place on this team." Calli stood up and looked Crosshair in the eye one last time, "But I'll get over it. I just wish you'd realize that your words stung and I feel completely useless now."

"Why can't you just ignore what I say like you normally do? Half the time the stuff that comes out of my mouth is bull, you know how I am." Calli nodded.

"I do know." She said matter of factly, "You and I are a lot alike so I can take what you say with a grain of salt because I know you don't mean it. But unlike you, I have the guts to apologize when I really say something out of line. It's the reason I have friends and you don't. Maybe one day you'll learn to be nicer instead of a bad-tempered ass and then people might actually like you."

"That's a low blow, even for you."

"I learned from the best." Calli said simply and with that she left Crosshair in the cockpit alone.

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It may seem like Calli is overreacting and I apologize if you think she is. But sometimes it just takes a single, jabbing comment that makes your insecurities blow it out of proportion. Calli is like me in some ways, always questioning whether she is good enough and such. She may seem ok for the most part, being all happy about being in the squad and calling the boys her brothers, but deep down she still wonders if she belongs with them. If she's good enough to keep up with them and uphold their stellar reputation. Crosshair's comment about her being weak just made these insecurities flare up and take over. Plus, the anxiety attack didn't help, as those are very scary to go through. I've never personally experienced one but have been around people who've had a panic attack. You feel helpless, not knowing what to do.

I hoped you enjoyed this chapter despite its angst. I've written some scenes in this book that show a softer side of Crosshair but have done my best to stay to his true character. Severe and unyielding. I've simply added some layers to his personality. He's like an onion. (If you get that reference, you're awesome!)

It'll be at least two more chapters before the Bad Batch Arc, provided I don't get another idea that I just HAVE to write.

Bye for now!

~B.C.

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majimemegoro · 2 years

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The conversation that turned Sato Kiyoshi from a law-abiding citizen to a murderer.

“What is this.” Sato’s voice was expressionless, but he was visibly more tense than usual. Kadokura was a tiny bit surprised, but perhaps he shouldn’t have been, given what he knew about Sato’s character. The man was a creature of routine.

“I bought you dinner,” Kadokura said. Which should have been obvious. He flashed a grin. “There must be something you like here?” Kadokura had ordered better, more expensive versions of Sato’s favorite dishes.

Ignoring the question, Sato bluntly said “Why?”

Letting the smile slip away, Kadokura crossed his arms over his chest. “I want to recruit you for a job,” he said. “I’m trying to headhunt promising candidates, and you fit the bill.”

Sato seemed to relax a little - being recruited for a job was a reasonable enough thing - but he didn’t let his guard down. “What kind of job?” he asked. “And what do you want from me?”

“Right now?” Kadokura said. “I want you to sit with me and eat whatever you want.”

Warily, his movements jerky, Sato moved around the chair and sat down across from Kadokura. Sato inclined his head a little. Gratitude, or mere politeness. It didn’t matter much.

[they eat and converse a little]

Kadokura leaned forward over the table. “Have you ever killed an animal?”

“Yes,” Sato said.

Barely, Kadokura restrained himself from grinning in pleasure. Of course Sato had killed animals! He probably started when he was just a kid. Out behind his parents’ house, starting with frogs in the creek, until that wasn’t enough, and then one day the neighbour’s cat would disappear… Fond memories filled Kadokura’s head, but he pushed them down and steepled his fingers in a precise show of professionalism.

“I’ve seen you at the shooting range, Sato-san,” he said. “Your marksmanship is impressive. You’re there every week, too; you must enjoy it. Well - you’re there almost every week.” Kadokura paused to see if Sato would interject.

Apparently Sato realized he’d been complimented, because he belatedly said, “Thank you.”

“I wonder why you weren’t at the range last weekend?”

“…I lost my job,” Sato admitted. “Money is tight.” After a beat he added, “I’ll go every other week for now.”

Kadokura tutted. “My, what a shame. To cut your recreation in half - but you must have other hobbies. Other things that you like to spend your time doing.” He waited, already knowing there was nothing.

After a beat Sato shook his head.

“Oh. I see.” Kadokura picked up his chopsticks and pushed a dumpling around his plate and then put the chopsticks down again. “Sato-san, may I ask you a question? Are you happy?”

Sato blinked shiftily. Finally, “What?” he said.

“You heard me. Are you happy? Do you like working at the convenience store, and people giving you weird looks, and being fired?”

Sato said nothing.

“If you died,” Kadokura pressed, “If there was an accident tomorrow and you were killed, would you be sorry?”

Expressionless, still Sato said nothing.

Inwardly Kadokura smiled in triumph. He was right. He was always right. Sato was just the same as him. Just the same.

Outwardly Kadokura kept his expression appropriately calm. “You aren’t happy,” he confirmed. “I can see it in your expression. I’m sorry to hear it; but I knew that would be your answer. Sato-san,” he said, now that he’d tested the waters, “Do you want to know the truth that no one else in the world will tell you?” He leaned forward over the table. “No one is happy.”

Sato’s face was like stone.

“No one is happy,” Kadokura repeated. “Happiness doesn’t exist. That’s why - that’s why death isn’t so terrifying. What is there to lose? A little fun once in awhile, maybe. But really nothing, in the grand scale. That’s why death doesn’t matter.”

Still Kadokura kept his attention razor-focused on Sato, attuned to any reaction. None was forthcoming. But then Sato’s brow furrowed minutely.

“I bet you’re wondering why people smile so much,” Kadokura guessed. “Why they talk about how great everything is, and why they laugh, why they’re smiling when they bring their kids to the park or eat a popsicle or whatever. Well, you know it as well as I do - pleasure exists. I’m not saying it doesn’t. That feeling you get when your-“ Kadokura barely stopped himself from using an example that would be premature. Luckily Sato didn’t react to Kadokura’s stumble. “When you make a difficult shot just right? That’s real. But that spark of pleasure only lasts for a second. And then everything goes cold again. Grey.” Kadokura paused, to be sure he had enough presence of mind. He didn’t particularly enjoy being sincere about this. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, unbidden. “When you’re lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to think, when your chest goes hollow and you feel so fucking lonely and you wonder if you’re going to have to feel that way for the rest of your goddamn life - that’s what life is. That feeling. The hollowness. The ache. That’s it. Nothing means anything. There isn’t happiness waiting just around the corner. Nothing is going to get better; this is all there is. Why should it matter if we die? Why should it matter if we kill? It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t cause any suffering that wouldn’t exist anyway. It. doesn’t. matter.”

Something in Sato’s expression had tightened minutely.

“Those are the two fundamental truths the world doesn’t want us to recognize, Sato-san. Happiness isn’t real.” Kadokura placed his hands down flat on the table cloth. “Death doesn’t matter. We love, we die, we fight and smile and kill. We try so damn hard. And none of it means anything, at the end of the day.”

And, there - a proper reaction at last. A blink, and a single tear slid down Sato’s cheek.

“Do you want to know the third fundamental truth?” Kadokura asked quietly.

Unsurprisingly, Sato didn’t speak. But Kadokura told him anyway. Gently. With love. “Life is more tolerable if you don’t have to work minimum wage.”

Sato reached up and swiped away the tear with the back of a finger.

“That’s why I’m offering you a job,” Kadokura said. “Work two, three, four months a year, maybe less, more if you like the work. You’d have a flexible schedule. And I’d estimate you could make ten million yen a year, easily.”

“…What job?” Sato asked. His voice was hoarse.

“You’d be killing people,” Kadokura said. And when Sato’s eyes widened in shock, Kadokura quickly added, “You don’t have to decide right now, Sato-san. I wouldn’t want you to. I know it feels like an important decision. So just think about it for awhile. Think about - you could have a better apartment. You could go to the range whenever you want. Buy a better gun. Whatever you want. Just think about it, okay?”

“I don‘t-“ Sato protested.

“Please, no,” Kadokura interrupted him. “Not now. It’s your choice to make; I’m not going to argue with you.” He paused. “Look,” he said, “I have a private shooting range that you can use for free, Sato-san. No strings attached. Here’s my card, the address is on there. You can show up any time, midnight, four a.m., I don’t care. I’m not always there but you’re welcome to use the facilities. I’ll have my staff know to let you in. And again, no strings attached. It’s just a favor from one person to another. If you don’t want the job - the facilities are still open to you any time.”

Sato hesitated, but took the business card respectfully, with two hands.

Obviously he was tempted by the prospect of not having to pay for a shooting range, especially given that he was currently unemployed. Let him take some time to think about the hitman thing.

Kadokura was helpless to suppress a grin. “I have all kinds of guns there, too, for people to try.”

“Old guns?” Sato asked quickly.

The man was hard to read. Kadokura wasn’t sure if Sato was insulting him, or just being awkward. “No. New guns, mostly. Some that aren’t even on the market yet.” Kadokura flashed a charming smile.

In response Sato nodded, again unreadable, and tucked the business card into his pocket.

Kadokura stood up, and Sato hastily followed suit. So respectful. Kadokura smiled wryly. “Please, take your time and finish the food,” he said. “Or,” eyeing the amount, “Grab it as takeaway. And please know that my offer has no expiry date. You have my contact information; I wish you all the best, Sato-san. It’s been a pleasure speaking with you.” And with that he bowed, tucked in his chair, and strode to the door. As he opened it and stepped through he turned, just enough to see Sato still standing there, motionless, his face haunted with grief.

What a beautiful image. It stayed in Kadokura’s mind all the way home.

#sato kiyoshi #yakuza 5 #happy miraculous dream job!#WIP #memecomradeoriginal #kadokura really said depressed? kill about it #nihilism </3 #frozen roar spoilers #i AM looking for feedback btw #i need to up the rhetorical power here but im not sure how to go about it

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Title: Domestic Codependency.

Commission for the lovely @99shadowcat99.

Work Count: 1.5k

Pairing: Yandere!Shigaraki/Reader

Synopsis: Shigaraki might be your kidnapper, but he’s never been very good at taking care of himself, much less another living, breathing person. Learning to fend for yourself under his careful surveillance is a practiced skill, to you. Albeit one he doesn’t take very kindly to.

TW: Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Violence, Choking, Mentions of Death, Dehumanization, and Slight Stockholm Syndrome.

It was kind of like having a pet, once you got used to it.

That’s what Shigaraki was, really, if you ignored the tracking bracelet around your ankle and the half a dozen deadbolts on every exit of whatever filthy, cramped apartment you’d been locked inside of for the past three months. He was a stray cat - a scowling, growling ball of fur that stumbled through your door every few days, asking to be fed and held and loved until he left again, forcing you to wonder if he’d make it back before your resources ran shorter than his temper. When he bared his teeth, you tried to hum and smile and keep him content until he calmed down. When he dug his nails into you, it meant he was having doubts about your loyalty, so you had to be ready spend the rest of the night soothing his concerns and denying his paranoid claims until he fell asleep in your arms or got irritated enough to sedate you and let you fall asleep in his. And when he purred, it meant you’d finally made it to a day where he could just be happy to see you, where you were allowed to be happy, too.

Those were the best days, when you could just relax, take a deep breath, and be confident that he wouldn’t find a reason to feed you to wolves. He’d smile and ruffle your hair, kiss your forehead and tell you about his day, all the little, domestic things a normal couple might do. You didn’t like those days, but they were bearable. More bearable than the rest, at least.

Today was not one of those days, obviously.

You were on your feet the moment you heard the first lock click, a metallic scrape that rang through the flat and served as your signal to pull yourself together just enough to be presentable, but not to overshadow your benevolent, saintly, insecure captor. By the time the front door began to open, you were positioned behind it, your hands clasped in front of you to avoid the nervous ticks and fidgets he always said meant you ‘had something to hide’, when he was in his worst moods. You didn’t give him time for critiques. The moment he was close enough, you were all-but throwing yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his midriff and burying your face in his chest, waiting for a gentle tap to your shoulder before you even dared to pull away, glancing up at him with the brightest smile you could manage.

“You’re home!” You called, by way of greeting. You knew better than to blatantly lie, by now. Shigaraki didn’t like it when he decided you were being more disingenuous than you had to be. “You came at the perfect time, too! Dinner’s almost ready, I should only need a few more minutes--”

You couldn’t stop yourself from flinching when you saw his scowl, tugging at the corners of his lips just enough to be differentiated from his usual grimace. The falter was momentary, though, and you’d already prepared for his tone, by the time he spoke. “I didn’t tell you to cook.”

Fine. Whatever. You had to work with what you had, in situations like this.

If he was going to be like that, you’d find a way to live with it.

“I… I thought it’d be nice,” You admitted, pulling away completely, letting yourself scan over Shigaraki for the first time since his arrival. His clothes were torn, a series of minor rips you’d have to mend later on, his hair disheveled and his shoulder injured, white bandages just visible underneath his collar. A fight hadn’t gone his way, obviously, or a mission went poorly enough to warrant his concern. Either way, it wouldn’t mean anything good for you. “You’re always so busy, and it’s not like I have anything better to do. I’m home all day,” You added, managing a hasty, noncommittal wave. “Is there a problem?”

“There’s always a fucking problem, with you.” It was a snarl, this time, something low and throaty that managed bypass dismissive without being direct enough to qualify as a call for attention. He didn’t push his way past you, but he didn’t need to. The moment he stepped forward, you were already at his side, trailing after him like a puppy attempting to bite at its master’s heels. “I never asked you to take care of me. I don’t keep you around to follow me around and treat me like a kid.”

It was a small space, by all means, but there was a bedroom towards the back, one Shigaraki liked to say was ‘off-limits’ whenever he wasn’t home. With that in mind, you stalled in the doorway, hesitating as he shrugged off his coat and let it fall onto your bed, painting the gray sheets with a fine layer of dust and debris. “I’m just trying to help.” It was a weak attempt, one that earned a sharp glare rather than an understanding response. “That’s what I’m supposed to do, right? I mean, it’s not like you were taking care of yourself before I got here, and you’re not really around often enough to take care of me.”

“That’s enough, (Y/n).” A harsh tone - stern, but not aggressive. Now, he was going to be the bigger person. Now. “You know how you’re supposed to behave, don’t--”

“How I’m supposed to behave?” Part of you wanted to laugh. Part of you wanted to scream. You didn’t expect to be appreciated, but it’d always bothered you that he’d decided you were the immature one, that you the child who couldn’t let of of their new, shiny toy until it suffocated. “Are there requirements, now? Did you forget to let me know about that when you kidnapped me--”

Your feet were off the ground before you had a chance to finish, his hands around your neck and his grip tight enough to cut off anything you might’ve said. He wouldn’t kill you. You knew he wouldn’t kill you, not with a quirk like yours, not when you healed faster than he could destroy, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try. It was easy to forget that you weren’t expendable with his thumbs lodged against your trachea, with any decent exhale smothered into a ragged whisper of a breath. You did what you could, scratching at his hands and digging your nails into thin skin, but if Shigaraki cared, he didn’t bother letting go. If anything, his grip only grew tightener, leaving your writhing in the air as he watched you struggle.

“Fucking brat,” He spat, all his vaguely masked rage boiling to the surface, becoming far more than a lurking threat before you could hope to calm it. Your lungs were beginning to ache, throbbing in your chest, your skull growing more confining with each passing second. “I’m supposed to be in charge. I’m supposed to be the one in control. After everything I’ve done for you, the last thing you should do is patronize--” There was a groan, apparent and frustrated. You might’ve empathized, if you’d been able to think about anything other than the crushing pressure. “You can’t just... I didn’t bring you here to--”

Your eyes were shut by the time he dropped you, your limp body collapsing to the floor with a sudden, jarring crack. You fought not to cower away, not to push yourself to your feet and run until he decided his anger was better taken out on some low-ranking villain or helpless civilian, but Shigaraki was already reaching down, dragging you upward and pulling you into his chest, one arm worked underneath your thighs and his free hand pressed against your back, keeping you pressed against him, by association. It was a familiar position, one that always followed his fits shortly. It meant he was ready to forgive you, ready for you to forgive him. It meant he’d calmed down.

It meant he’d already thrown his tantrum, and now he was ready for you to shower him with affection and act like you’d been dying to dote on him, since he started pushing you away.

“I… It’s been a long day,” He offered, in place of a real apology. Your heart was still pounding in your chest, your tongue still too heavy to use, but you strung your arms over his shoulders as he spoke, nodding in a stilted, jerky motion Shigaraki didn’t seem to mind. “Toga keeps complaining about lying low, and… actually, I’ll tell you about that later. Right now, I should just be glad I’m around someone helpless enough to take me seriously.” He said it so fondly, so softly, as if he hadn’t tried to break your neck for implying something half as incriminating. You didn’t have the strength to point out his hypocrisy. “But, you’ll forgive me, right? You still love me?”

You hesitated, but only for a moment. Your response came in the form of your touch, fingers raking through his hair as he leaned into your palm, accepting your answer without further argument. He was a stray, after all. Regardless of how many times he bit and scratched and drew blood, you wouldn’t be able to turn him away. He was your stray.

And you had to take care of your stray.

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theskywaslookingback · 3 years

Text

[AO3]

“Why do you even have that?”

Sasha looks up from her laptop to give Jon a quizzical look. They’ve been deep in a research hole for hours now, Jon with his files spread out before him like a buffet and Sasha picking her way through line after line of code to access things that she really shouldn’t be able to access - although, the government should have better security if it didn’t want to get hacked so she tried not to feel too badly about it. Jon’s not looking at his files now though, his gaze appears to be drawn to her shoe-box sized kitchen.

“Why do I have what?” She asks, “A kitchen?”

“No, the--” He flicks his fingers in a vague gesture to the counter, and his eyebrows pull together in a fetching little wrinkle that Sasha desperately wants to smooth away with her thumb, “the absolutely massive thing you have taking up half your kitchen.”

“Oh!” Sasha says, and then starts to laugh.

The stand mixer is large, honestly, too big to store in the meagre storage space of her cabinets and taking up half the countertop next to the stove. It’s also a garish bright red, loud against the backdrop of beige walls and a white lino countertop. She wonders why on earth Jon’s bringing this up now, they’ve been working for hours now and this certainly isn’t the first time he’s visited her flat, and decides the answer to simply be that ‘it’s Jon, he’s probably just never noticed.’

He’s fully scowling at her now, in a way she knows is defensive. He probably thinks she’s making fun of him. He can be so sensitive. “Sorry,” She says when she stops laughing long enough to speak, “I think you just caught me off guard. It was cute.”

“Cute?” Jon starts to sputter, the tips of his ears darkening and his nose wrinkling.

He is cute, Sasha thinks.

She waves it off. “It was a wedding present. That’s one of the big ones, I think, for most people. First thing I added to the registry.”

Jon couldn’t look more blind-sided if he’d been hit by a lorry. He even drops his pen, staring at her with wide eyes. “You’re married?”

Sasha snorts. “Don’t be daft. Does it look like I’m living with someone?”

Jon looks around anyway like he’s looking for evidence. “Divorced?”

“Nope.” She says, popping the ‘p’ with extra emphasis and grinning at the helpless confusion radiating from her friend.

“Then--” Jon trails off. He looks at the stand mixer again, like maybe it holds the answers he’s seeking. He looks back at her, and then down at his files. Suddenly his head jerks up and he says, “Wait, have you ever even been engaged?” He says this so seriously it tugs at Sasha’s heart. His eyes narrow like he’s caught her in some kind of trap, as though that wasn’t what she was expecting.

Sasha grins. “No.”

Jon looks at her incredulously, like he’s fitting together a bunch of puzzle pieces in his mind. It’s fun. Jon is so fun. “Sasha, did you fake an engagement just to get a stand mixer?”

“Yes!” Sasha slams her laptop shut and points at Jon, “But do not tell my great aunt that, do you understand? It took me years of work to get that stand mixer, Jon!”

Jon stares at her silently for just a moment, absolutely bewildered, before he dissolves into laughter, curling in on himself and digging his fingers into his sides. It shakes his shoulders and Sasha swears there’s tears in his eyes and before she knows it she’s laughing too, hard enough it hurts her chest and blurs her vision. To an outside viewer they must look positively loony. It takes ages for them to stop and gather themselves back together. Jon takes off his glasses to wipe tears away from his eyes while Sasha rubs at her face and tries to stop the giggles that keep bubbling up when she looks at Jon.

“God,” Jon says at last, “I haven’t laughed like that in--” he clears his throat, “anyway.”

“Yes,” Sasha agrees, “anyway.”

She looks at the clock and is both shocked and completely unsurprised that it’s after midnight.

Jon must follow her gaze because she hears him utter a quiet, “good lord.”

She’s dangerously close to laughing again.

Jon starts to shuffle his files away back into their folders. “Later than I thought.” He says.

Sasha hums in agreement, putting her laptop away and sorting her notes into neat piles. “No use trying to get home this late, you might as well just stay the night.”

“Ah,” Jon’s nose does that cute wrinkle thing again, and Sasha’s lips twitch, “that’s quite alright. I’m sure I can just find a cab.”

“Could do,” Sasha agrees, “but it’d be easier if you stayed. I’ve got an extra toothbrush and everything. Plus, tomorrow is Saturday so it’s not like we have to rush back to work or anything.”

Jon’s got all his things put back in his messenger bag, a solid olive green canvas affair that Sasha privately thinks is dreadful looking. “Wouldn’t want to spoil your weekend. I’m sure you have plans.” He’s stalling, looking for a reason not to go. Sasha wishes he’d just tell her what he wants.

She smiles, because Jon isn’t easy but she knows him and she likes him anyway, “Well, I was going to put that stand mixer to work and make myself some bread. But other than that--” She shrugs.

Jon’s eyes go once more to that bright red piece of kitchen equipment. “You make your own bread?”

“Sure. It’s cheaper and it tastes better.”

Jon makes a thoughtful noise. “Well, I suppose… that is, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Lovely,” Sasha beams, and then adds slyly, “I’ve even got some of Tim’s things you can sleep in.”

Jon goes properly red at that and buries his face in his hands with a groan.

Sasha busies herself with getting her ingredients together while Jon wakes up. Before they’d become friends she’d always just kind of assumed he’d be a morning person. He had that air about him at work, sharp and alert even when she was still trying to get her head on. The truth is that while Jon has difficulties getting to sleep, he would happily sleep until mid-afternoon if she let him, so she makes sure to wake him at a decent hour and then goes back to check and make sure he hasn’t fallen back asleep. Since her flat is basically a glorified closet, and Jon sleeps on the sofa, this is not a hard task to keep an eye on.

It takes a good twenty minutes before Jon comes and sits himself down at what she generously calls a kitchen table. His hair hangs in curls around his shoulders and he impatiently pushes a hand through it where it covers his face. He’s still sleepy-eyed, the sleeves of Tim’s jumper she’d let him borrow pooling around his hands.

“Good morning.” She says with amusement.

He grunts, flopping into a rickety chair. “Coffee?” He asks.

“All out. Tea alright?”

He nods.

“Great. Kettle is over there.” She gestures vaguely to the area next to the fridge, “Tea is top cabinet.”

Jon sighs, like it’s a great effort for him to make his own tea, but offers no further complaint as he retrieves the kettle and fills it with water.

With Jon out of the way Sasha appropriates the table for more space to set out her scale and bowls. She won’t need anything too fancy today so it doesn’t take long to get set up. She hears the kettle and turns around just in time to see Jon half-way climbing onto the counter. “Jon!” She scolds, similar to the way she would her cat when she was a child.

He freezes and gives her a sheepish grin. “You said top cabinet.”

She did, and she hadn’t thought about the almost foot of height she had on Jon. She snorts and waves him down. “Grab the mugs, I’ll get the tea then.”

He grumbles something about doing it himself but obliges, plucking two mugs from the drying rack.

“Green tea alright?”

Jon makes a dismissive noise. “Black?”

“Out.”

“I’m taking you shopping after this, Sasha James, this is downright unacceptable.”

“Yeah, sure.”

She hands him the box of tea bags and he rolls his eyes at her, muttering as he fills their mugs with water.

“Do you at least have milk?”

“Yes.”

“Thank god.”

Sasha rolls her eyes and gets back to her scale, weighing out her dry ingredients.

“Why are you doing it like that?”

“By weight?”

Jon hums.

“It’s more accurate by weight than by volume, typically.”

“You can’t just, I don’t know, eye-ball it?”

“Jonathan Sims have you ever baked anything in your entire life?”

She takes the jerky shrug he gives in response as a no. She shakes her head and dumps her flour and yeast into the mixing bowl of her stand mixer. Jon hovers there at her shoulder, watching, so close she can almost feel his breath.

It gives her a wicked idea.

She reaches a hand up, like she’s checking something, and then flicks the mixer on high.

Flour explodes from the mixing bowl in a cloud of white, covering her and Jon and the countertop.

The little shriek Jon gives will stay with her for a very long time.

“Why?” He asks, mouth agape and positively covered in flour.

“Because I knew it would be funny.” Sasha says, laughing. There’s flour in her hair, and she’ll definitely need to wash her clothes, but the look in Jon’s wide eyes and the slowly blooming smile on his face is worth it.

It takes less time than she thinks to get everything clean again, and the second time she even allows Jon to help her measure ingredients and start the mixer. He’s very serious about the whole thing, watching the scale with a grim kind of determination like it would mean death if he added just a bit too much yeast to the dough, but it’s the most fun Sasha’s had in forever. By the end of the day she has enough bread to wrap a loaf up for Jon to take home, and he looks at her like she’s just given him the greatest gift he’s ever received.

“Same time next week?” She asks as she wraps his scarf around his neck.

“I suppose.” He says, ducking his head to avoid the kiss she tries to plant on his cheek. “If you’re amenable.”

“I’m amenable.” She says, and kisses the top of his head anyway.

Sasha watches him leave and Jon turns back at the end of the hallway to wave, before disappearing into the stairwell. She laughs, bright and happy, and closes the door.

#fic #my fic #jonathan sims #sasha james #days before; unwinding

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 124

Second half of the exhibition! Mac’s performance here is based on an actual incident that occurred with one of the many actual cats that Mac is based on.

Trigger warnings for blood here.

Thanks go to @baelpenrose for his beta-reading and Arthur, @zommbiebro for Jokul, @books-and-cartoons for GK, @werewolf2578 for Michael and all the other characters you have added to this story, and @charlylimph-blog for her characters. <3 you both!

“Who is competing in the canine rounds?” Coffey asked, steering the topic smoothly.

“Myself,” Grandma Kim gestured. “Michael and Sparkles, Derek and Machiavelli, for the service round. I believe there are a few more for the security round, but I don’t recall whom.” From GK, that was basically saying they were so far beneath her notice that she refused to learn their names.

A chime sounded, indicating that the intermission had ended. Arthur, Coffey, and I made our way back into the stands, waving to Simon as he worked his way onto the sidelines. Ivan had initially come down ahead of me and Maverick, but was also packing the floor with the competitors for the upcoming events. As soon as we took our seats, Evania announced the next event - sure enough, it was the service and security animal exhibitions.

Rather than the participants stepping forward, Antoine took the floor after Evan. “Previously, these events were separated and considered the ‘canine’ events. However, it has been brought to my attention, most ardently, that service and security animals are not limited to canines, even with the limited amount of animals we currently have on the Ark. As such, we are combining the service and security events, and this year there is a non-canine participant. Due to the nature of the exhibition, I will be personally monitoring from the sidelines in case there is any need for interventions. Also, as with in the past, please be assured that all participants in these events are volunteers and a med bay is on standby.”

Medbay is on standby? I wondered. I didn’t recall that before, but I also hadn’t paid more attention than was necessary to know how many jerky treats to give Lyric and Sparkles.

First up was our veteran, Lyric the First. The elder stateswoman of Ark companions may have hobbled onto the field, but she went through her paces as a service animal with tidy precision. On top of that, the second the ‘security’ portion started and someone brandished a weapon at GK, all concept of ‘elder’ went out the window and Lyric became 120lbs of teeth and fury, daring the faux-attacker to come within six feet of her charge.

I could feel Coffey shudder beside me, at the same time that I could see Arthur nod with approval. I couldn’t lie - there was a part of me that remembered this same dog standing over me when Maverick first dropped by unexpectedly, and I was warmed to know that I had been so safe in that moment.

After the applause due such a respected member of the community, Lyric the First was taken off the field, and it was Lyric II’s turn to show how she lived up to the name. Sure enough, she displayed the same precision in the service animal rounds, but it was clear that she knew this was for show in the security segment. Rather than the degree of savagery her mother had shown, Lyric II was clearly a little confused by the fake-attack. She still received her applause and treats, however, while GK was obviously considering how much more training was needed.

Michael and Sparkle were next, and their performance was on-par with Lyric the First. Rather than having Sparkle function as a service animal for Michael, Sam had volunteered. The moment loud noises started to upset Sam, Sparkle nudged him into a prone position and brought his ribbon over. If someone tried to step to close, she calmly pushed them back. Due to her youth, Michael did step in for the security portion - Sparkle wasn’t trained to decide between security and support yet - and that was where she shined. Without hesitation, she took a defensive stance at any aggression toward Michael, and really did Lyric the First proud.

And then, the fourth round happened. That was what set the crowd’s eyebrows on end, the round with non-stop chatter throughout.

On the contrary to the rounds with both Lyrics and Sparkle, there was no leash, there were no steps to walk through. Instead, the crowd saw Derek Okafor walk out, carrying a lavender blanket and pillow, with a solid mass of feline ink trailing behind him. Rather than lead Mac through any actions, Derek set the pillow down, curled up on the floor, and covered himself with the blanket. In an action I had witnessed on more occasions than I could count, Mac curled his impressive mass on the blanket, just outside of Derek’s elbow. Directed audio amplified Mac’s purring so everyone could hear it, even in the furthest seats.

Suddenly, the audio in the gym played discordant noises. Not even waiting for Derek to flinch, Mac darted under the blanket and a lump erupted where Derek’s ear had been. After a moment, the sound cut off, and instead a bowl of food - one so strong-smelling that I could catch it from my seat - was brought out. Mac poked his nose out and started sneezing convulsively, hissing at the bowl as he moved towards it.

The coup de grace was what came next. Without warning, as soon as the bowl was taken away, someone darted towards Derek from the other side. I could actually feel my soul chuckle for this poor slob as I anticipated what would happen.

Sure enough, Mac became a blur of void and vaulted over Derek, clawing the interloper from elbow to wrist, then from thigh to knee. He hissed and spat, clawing at anything and anyone that came within reach. Nothing could stop the ball of feline fury until Derek darted out an arm to scoop Mac back under the blanket while the poor volunteer - who looked like they had a bad date with a Cuisinart - was led to the aforementioned med bay.

“I’m not sure they knew they were signing up for this,” I murmured to Maverick and Coffey.

Coffey made a firmly negative gesture. “I assure you that they were aware. That particular volunteer? She has been Machiavelli’s training target for three months now.”

“Why?” I sputtered.

“Some people are afraid of dogs,” Coffey shrugged. Given his clear discomfort watching both Lyrics perform, it made more sense suddenly. I knew he wasn’t afraid of dogs - he kept treats in his pocket for Lyric and Lyric II, at all times - but we weren’t far enough removed from Earth to make everyone comfortable with the kinds of dogs that worked best as service animals.

A cat, though? I knew from a lifetime of experience that nothing was as persistent or vicious as a cat, when properly motivated.

The audience was respectfully silent until Mac and Derek left the gym, before cheering wildly. Even from where I was sitting, I could hear people talking about the potential of having a cat once the colony was established. As a firmly devoted cat owner, I couldn’t even make up an excuse to argue.

Arthur leaned over so I could hear him clearly. “You never told me you have an attack cat.”

“I’ve always had them,” I admitted. “I just didn’t know it wasn’t a normal thing.”

“Mac is a good kitty.”

“The best kitty,” Coffey corrected with a grin. At some point, he had adopted Derek as a younger brother/nephew figure, and by extension doted on Mac to the point of chemical warfare.

“The only kitty,” I pointed out. I would have loved for the Ark to have ship cats, but we had learned - the hard way - that genetic enhancements were necessary for them to thrive in the gravity we were operating under. It was part of the reason Mac was so large - four years ago, he had actually undergone a heart transplant so his vasculatory system would function in the increased gravity. Where Lyric II and Sparkles had benefited from what Miys learned from the original Lyric, Mac was the original.

The next event was thrown projectiles, so I took the opportunity to go grab some popcorn and sausage-rolls for the last two events. No one in my family was participating in the javelin/spear exhibition, but I knew that Xiomara and Evan would be eyeing these candidates closely for colonial security, so I made a point to pay attention. However, despite my original reason for keeping an eye on the event, I found myself fascinated. Each spear had a different range for accuracy, a different technique for throwing… I found myself filing the information away for later, anticipating a very rousing conversation with our Councillor of Security and her protege. Ivan Thorsson, to nobody’s surprise, excelled.

However, the last event of the exhibition was finally at hand - archery. Charly had made several attempts to have this event be its own exhibition - the projectiles were not thrown, nor were they combustion - but a sheer lack of participants inevitably led to the sport being included with the ‘non combustion’ weapons exhibition, in the same way the animal companion events were. On the plus side, participation this Von-year made a strong case for archery being its own event.

Participants were allowed ten arrows, ten targets, and fifteen minutes to fire all arrows. Bows could be any size, but had to be pulled by hand - no crossbows, no hooks to draw. Targets were only 25cm in diameter, and any shots that missed the desired target were counted off, with a double ‘friendly fire’ deduction if the arrow hit an entirely different target.

Even with all the restrictions, there were no less than twelve participants in this event, more than any other.

Maverick was first. While he was exceptionally precise, his Shinto-style did not lend itself well to speed. Next came Tyche, who landed killing hits on every shot, though with far less aplomb than her knife-throwing had shown. Arthur had a similar result - fast and deadly, but less accurate than Maverick - before MIchael Smith took the stage again, to my surprise.

My jaw hit the floor as he pulled just as fast as Tyche and Arthur, with the same accuracy of Maverick. Very few people took part in multiple exhibitions, and to see him do so well in three was a shock. Nonetheless, he swapped out with the next participant with zero acknowledgement of his performance.

After that, the event continued: several people I did not recognize, before all that was left were Conor and Charly. Similar to his style of throwing knives, Conor drew ambidextrously and over the shoulder. The connection was crystal clear as you watched his motion - a smooth draw, looped into a pull and release. The only difference was that, where he would throw a knife, he would draw the arrow.

Next, I expected Charly, but what I saw made my head spin: Simon Rodriguez stepped out of a back room, with a longbow and a quiver full of arrows. Even more incredibly, he did not stand in front of any specific target, but stood in the center of all ten. With one deep breath, he started drawing from his waist, firing and drawing, arrow after arrow, in a smooth, mechanical motion.

Every arrow struck the center of the target.

The blood drained from my face as I realised why Tyche had threatened Conor with allowing Simon to use him for target practice…. I had no idea, at the time, that Simon was such an incredible shot. Immediately, I felt guilty.

Before I could apologize to him, Charly and her bow walked out. Speaking now felt like an obscenity, since this was the reason so many people were still here. Sure enough, as soon as the targets were replaced, she displayed a foreign calm as she fired shot after shot.

Ten shots. Ten exact centers. Ten arrowheads protruding from the back of targets by a minimum of two inches.

Twelve seconds total.

The transition between Simon and Charly took place so quickly that I had no idea who the applause was for - the Twelve Second Sorceress, or her clear protege. Either way, the end of the exhibition was explosive, to say the least.

I turned to Conor, ready to apologise for not taking the previous threat as serious at it was, when he said something that made me slap my face and groan.

“Bless it, do you think Simon will show me how to do that?”

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#the miys #humans are weird #tw blood #humans are space orcs #humans baffle aliens #aliens #apocalypse #post-apocalypse #science fiction #original science fiction #my writing

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haloshornsinkstains · 4 years

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Kinktober? (Semi)Public Sex [Kuroo]

Not sure I ever posted this here, sorry if I did. Brain mush right now. But I am trying to continue with the Kinktober stuff as and when I can, and hopefully I’ll get around to writing some headcanons and fun seasonal stuff soon too. Suggestions are always welcome. :)

CW: Female Reader, semi-public sex, some terrible chemistry puns, alcohol

“What is that cat doing?” Suga glanced up from his drink, following Daichi’s glare across the bar. Where you’d been dancing on your own earlier, the former Nekoma Captain was now pressed against your back, smirking. He turned back to Daichi and sighed. “I thought Kenma was supposed to be watching him!” Daichi growled. “I think Kenma is a bit busy right now.” Suga gestured to a far booth and familiar head of orange hair huddled against the gamer. “You worry too much Daichi, she can handle herself.” Daichi frowned and shook his head. “I’m not-” “I’ve been out drinking with her before, believe me, she can. If she didn’t want Kuroo there he wouldn’t be, and… I know you might disagree but he’s a decent guy really.” He leant his head against the others shoulder. “There’s always someone there to help her if she needs it. Half the guys in this room act like her older brothers, she’ll be fine . Now, as sexy as the protective big brother thing is, stop moping and enjoy your night off with me.” “I can’t believe you took her out drinking.” “She’s 23. Now shut up and kiss me you idiot.”

Across the bar, blissfully unaware of the conversation happening about you, you found yourself grinding back into a solid body. Glancing over your shoulder you raised a questioning eyebrow at the man, he merely smirked in response though he did step away a little until you grinned at him. “Aw c’mon, I haven’t even tried to scare you off yet.” You laughed. The man smiled and moved closer again, large hands coming to rest on your hips. “You’re planning to scare me off?” You shrugged. “Not yet, we’ll see.” “Can I at least get a name before you chase me away?” His deep voice was right in your ear and something about it sent a shiver up your spine, you ground your ass back against him in retaliation. You were going to tell him, really you were, but a guy sidled up to the pair of you and eyed the man you were dancing with. “Hey baby, I can show you a much better time than this-” You felt the man behind you tense, ready to interject, but you shook your head giving the stranger a smile that terrifyingly reminded Kuroo of Suga in full mom-mode back in the day. The stranger actually flinched. “I’m having a good time here thanks.” And how one person could sound so sweet and so terrifying at the same time Kuroo would never know, but the guy was gone and honestly he was beyond impressed. “That was… something.” He practically purred into your ear. You shrugged. “I had a good teacher. And I really am having a good time.” “Oho?” “Mhm. Haven’t even tried to scare you off with a terrible chat up line yet.” He chuckled behind you, “they can’t be that bad.” The song changed and you used it as an excuse to turn to face him, your arms resting around his neck as you studied his face properly. He really was handsome, the kind of good looking that even made his bedhead hairstyle look sexy. You could only blame the alcohol and his good looks for muddling your brain and making the next words to come out of your mouth seem like a great idea. “Are you Francium? Because you’re really attractive.” Ooops. Well, it was nice while it lasted. Kuroo blinked a few times, before his face split into a wide grin and a terrible hyena laugh burst from his lips. Once the laughing had subsided, and you were so thankful for the coloured lights hiding your blushing face, you realised he was still holding you. And still smiling. “That was amazing.” He chuckled. “Know any more?” Fuck. He was hot and liked awful science puns? Well that decided it. You grabbed his hand, tugging him away from the dancefloor and towards the back of the club.

You pushed him inside the bathroom stall, locking the door behind you and turning to him. “A bar toilet, really?" You shrugged. “There’s the grimy alley if you prefer? Or you can leave I guess, but well…” You gestured vaguely towards the obvious bulge in his jeans. “I got the feeling you might-” He was kissing you before you finished, strong hands lifting you almost effortlessly up onto the sink so he was pressed between your legs. “Fuck you’re hot.” You smiled. “I think that’s my line.” His lips were back on yours in an instant, one hand tangled in your hair while the other pushed your skirt up around your hips. You moaned into his mouth as his thumb rubbed across your underwear, pressing into the dampness that had already accumulated there. “Ah, fuck, we don’t have-” He groaned in response, pushing your underwear aside and pressing two fingers into your wet heat with ease. That pulled a low moan from his throat, as you gasped and bucked your hips against his hand. From the other side of the door you could hear the voices of the other people in the bar, friends and former teammates easy to pick out over the low hum of noise. You whine, fisting your hands in the front of his shirt. “You don’t have time to tease me. Please, I want you.” He huffs, but any real irritation is clouded by lust as he fishes a condom out of his pocket (you would question it, because really what? But you’re far too focused on releasing him from his jeans). You bite your lip hard to hold back the moan when you finally release his cock, long and thick and curved so perfectly you think you lose the ability to think straight just looking at it. You can practically feel his smirk, and glance up to see him biting back some sort of sarcastic remark. Just to spite him you snatch the condom wrapper from his hands, rolling it onto him yourself and slowly sliding your hand along his now covered erection. The groan that leaves him is pure sin and you can’t help but wrap your legs around his hips, urging him closer. He complies, eyes squeezed shut as he slides into you. You understand the feeling completely, biting down hard on your lip to stop you crying out from just how perfect he feels inside you, the slight burn of the stretch only adding to the sensation. “Move. God, please move.” You urge, rocking your hips against him. Move he does, your head thudding back against the mirror as he starts to thrust, breathing ragged already. He leans forward, bracing himself against the wall with his arms caging you in as he sets a punishing pace, his lips finding yours in an attempt to stifle his moans. “You feel so fucking perfect.” You whine at the praise, arching into him already embarrassingly close, but he doesn’t stop the words tumbling from his mouth. “I wish we had more time, I want to feel you come on my tongue. Want to treat you right. Fuck you feel so good.” It’s so perfect and so intense and you’re so close already. It feels like he is too, the way his body is trembling around you, brow furrowed and bottom lip caught between his teeth. Somewhere on the other side of the door you can hear someone hammering and shouting at you to hurry up and get out of there, if you weren’t so close to finishing you’d probably want to punch them. But Kuroo shifts slightly, thumb swiping over your clit in small circles and that is more than distracting enough, even as his movements become jerky and then still. He keeps going until you follow him into your own orgasm, his lips swallowing the loud moan that bubbles up in your throat. You stay like that for a few moments, lips moving against each other as you both come down from your respective highs. It’s over too soon, him pulling out of you, disposing of the used condom and gingerly tucking himself back into his pants. You sigh, leaning forwards and swiping his phone to enter your number. “In case you want to do that again as much as I do Kuroo-san.” You grin, hopping down from the sink on wobbly legs and returning to the party.

Kuroo sighs, pocketing the phone again and making his way back over to his former teammates. Yaku narrows his eyes when he approached, frowning. “Kuroo. Please tell me you didn’t have sex with Sawamura-san’s little sister.” Kuroo blinks, suddenly realising you seemed to know his name when he never gave it out, that would also explain the glare he felt burning into his back while he was dancing with you. After a few seconds he grins, glancing over to see you whirling a drunk Nishinoya around the dance floor. “That sounds like my cue to leave.”

[from: Unknown Number] Are you a carbon isotope? Because I want to date you.

[from: you] Kuroo? Marry me.

[from: Unknown Number] The one and only. I think your brother would kill me. Rude not letting me know, fyi.

[from: you] Sorry! I was trying to not scare you away. Coffee tomorrow?

[from: Kuroo] It’s a date.

#my writing #kinktober #kuroo x reader #f!reader #kuroo tetsuro #haikyuu #semi-public sex #halo.writes #halo.afterdark

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aflyingcontradiction · 3 years

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The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 22 - Colony

Martin: Well, I need to tell someone what happened, and you can vouch for the soundness of my mind, can’t you? Jon: - really long pause - That is beside the point.

Have I mentioned Jon is really freaking rude to Martin in S1? Cause he's really being quite a jerk!

Martin: I like spiders. Big ones, at least. Y’know, y’know the ones you can see some fur on; I actually think they’re sort of cute –

I wonder if he ever changed his mind about that...

Quite a tight squeeze for me, I mean, I’m not exactly the smallest guy in the world, I know - Statement of Martin Blackwood

I guess this is part of why all the fanart Martins are these towering creatures? (For what it's worth, "my Martin" isn't any taller than "my Jon", maybe even a little shorter, but still a big guy.)

I mean… look, I know you hate the word, but it was really… spooky.

To be fair to Jon, "spooky" is a little silly and HIGHLY inadequate for describing ANYTHING happening in or near The Magnus Institute.

Told me Carlos Vittery had lived there, seemed weird, always shut himself up, but was never a problem, paid his rent on time. Used to have a cat, but it now lived with the Sanderson couple in number two.

Aww, the cat gets a happy ever after! I'm glad!

I was heading home when I got to thinking, and I was worried I hadn’t really done enough investigation for you, since I got so freaked out by the basement and all.

YOU LITERALLY BROKE INTO A HOUSE, MARTIN! YOU DID MORE THAN ENOUGH! GROW A FUCKING BACKBONE AND TELL JON WHERE HE CAN STICK IT! (... she says as if she wouldn't have the exact same thought process if she were in Martin's shoes...)

It was… faint, just a rustling, really. I didn’t want to check it out, I really didn’t. I’ve catalogued and looked into enough of these cases to know that following the noise is always a really, really bad idea, but… I mean… it’s my job, isn’t it?

NOT IF IT'S LIKELY TO KILL YOU OR WORSE, MARTIN! JEEZ!

Then, with a quick, jerky movement she brought the handkerchief to her face and coughed. I mean, I call it a cough, because that’s what it looked like, but it didn’t sound like a cough. It was more like… like… you know in a nature documentary, w-when the lion’s caught something and it’s, it’s ripping it apart? That noise of wet meat…? Yeah, it was, was like that. I saw something drop from the handkerchief onto the floor. It was about an inch long, silver, and it wriggled as it fell.

The description of Jane Prentiss and her actions in this episode is significantly eerier (just by virtue of being significantly more detailed!) than when we first meet her. And it worked pretty damn well on me. Also Johny likes describing sounds as being like wet meat! This is the second time he's done it and it's not exactly a common description so that's noticeable, but to be fair, it is very evocative!

Her skin was pale, almost grey, and full of… sorry, it still makes me sick to think about it. It was full of holes. Deep, black holes just honeycombing every bit of flesh like a… wasps’ nest.

When Martin starts describing Jane in her full g(l)ory, the squishy worm sounds start playing in the background, which I didn't consciously notice during my first listen but they REALLY add to the disgust factor!

I mean, I don’t have a landline – who does anymore

I do! It's very useful for when a pile of worms steals your mobile!

I tried to tell myself I’d imagined it. Maybe I’d overreacted to finding a homeless woman sleeping in the basement. Maybe she was sick and needed an ambulance. Oh god, maybe I’d left her to die.

I know Martin is controversial (and even I think he occasionally acts like an ass in later episodes) but part of why I love him is that he's ... well, kinda relatable. "Immediately doubt your experiences and try to reinterpret them in a way that makes you look as bad as possible" is a tendency my partner keeps pointing out in me, too.

I never had one of those peepholes added, so I couldn’t see what was out there

Peepholes - for when you're trying to avoid meeting the neighbours in the hallway or being eaten up by a hive of homicidal worms.

But… I-I think the worst part was the boredom. No internet, no phone, no power.

Martin just continues to be relatable!

Strangely, she never tried to break down my door, either. Just knocked. She knocked… and knocked… and knocked.

The tone this is said in is SO GOOD. Just very "half-way out of his mind from even remembering the - fucking - KNOCKING!"

Jon: Well, in that time I have received several text messages from your phone, saying you were ill with stomach problems. The last one said that you thought it “might be a parasite”

Oh god. The worms have a sense of humour!

My impression of this episode

This one was quite eerie and certainly hit me harder than the first Corruption episode, especially the description of Jane, but I think I was (and still am) also too busy oooh-ing over the first full episode with OVERARCING PLOT to get too spooked. It's a pretty good one for that! Had me on the edge of my seat the first time around!

#tma relisten #the magnus archives

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chilling-seavey · 4 years

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HH ANOTHA ONE - Lorri bugging Daniel to let her drive his car - but wait omg 🥺🥺🥺 that boy would do anything for her so he'd let her drive the first time she asked - and then they go on like a drive somewhere and Lorri just loves driving fast and Daniel can't help put stare at her and just fall in love with her more please🥺🥺🥺

Super inspired by Fun, Fun, Fun by the Beach Boys. It is complete vibes for this blurb and I haven’t listened to a single other song all week

July 1960

“I wanna drive your car.”

“Do you even know how to drive?”

Loretta gasped through the phone, “Yes, Daniel, I know how to drive.”

“I have never seen you behind the wheel ever in my whole life.” Daniel chuckled.

“I know how to drive and I want to drive your Thunderbird up the coast.”

“Oh really?”

“Stop laughing at me!”

Daniel bit his lip to hide his cheeky smile, “I’m not laughing at you, my love. When do you wanna go?”

“I told Dad that I need to go to the library today for college so…today!”

“Don’t you need to actually study?”

Loretta groaned in annoyance through the phone and he could hear her flop backwards onto her bed, “No! I hate doing summer college when you’re on break! It’s not fair! I deserve a break.”

“To go up the coast?”

“Yes, Dani, please?” Loretta begged.

Daniel checked the time on the stove, “Alright. I’ll come pick you up and we’ll swing by Sherry’s for lunch and then head up the coast.”

“Ah! I love you!” Loretta shrieked. “I’m already dressed! Now get over here quick!”

The line went dead and Daniel only laughed lightly at his girlfriend’s way too eager attitude as he hung up the receiver and rushed upstairs to grab his wallet and keys. He stopped in the doorway to the master bedroom where his mother was folding laundry, “Lori and I are going out, Ma. Won’t be home for supper.”

“Alright, honey. Drive safe.” she called after him as he rushed down the stairs and right out the front door.

It was a perfect day for a drive, the summer LA heat allowing the convertible to be wide open and the cloudless blue sky made for easy driving. Daniel slid on his sunglasses and turned the key in the ignition to make his way down to Loretta’s house a few blocks away. She was already waiting at the end of her driveway in high-waisted red shorts, a white halter top, and white sneakers, a classic red ribbon tying her brown hair back from her face, and when she saw Daniel, her smile broke even wider and she jumped onto the road as he fell to a stop in front of her.

“Hey, lover boy.” she greeted, leaning over the driver’s side door to kiss him. “Let’s roll! Scoot over.”

Daniel only laughed and put the car in park before shuffling over to the passenger side to let her climb behind the wheel. She tossed her book bag in the backseat – she had to take it since she told her father she was going to the library – and she slid her cat-eyed sunglasses on before carefully setting her hands on the steering wheel with a grin.

“Yes. This feels good.” Loretta nodded once.

She pressed her foot down on the gas, revving the engine loudly as they were still in park. Daniel’s eyes went wide as he watched her hesitantly.

“Oh…oopsies.” she giggled and set the car into drive to press down on the gas and they went speeding forward down her street so suddenly that Daniel flopped backwards against the leather seats with a gasp.

He was too in shock to say anything as he clutched onto the top of the door beside him and the back of the seat between the two of them. After a few minutes, Loretta seemed to get the hang of it and her jerky movements turned smoother but she was still nearly throwing Daniel through the windshield every time they reached a stop sign.

“Just…pull slowly into the parking spot.” Daniel said cautiously as they navigated their way down the busy beachside street towards Sherry’s Diner.

Loretta whipped the wheel around, spinning them way too quickly into the parking spot and Daniel audibly squeaked as they just barely missed the car in the adjacent spot, biting on his finger to not try to critique her driving too terribly. He would have cried if he got a scratch on the pretty red paint and he leaned over the side of the car just to make sure they had cleared it.

“Wow!” Loretta grinned as she sat back and took her foot of the brake.

“Park, Lori! Put it in park!” Daniel reminded her quickly as they started rolling back towards the busy street.

“Shoot.” Loretta gasped, pushing the gear shift to park. She glanced over at her boyfriend who looked like he had seen the gates of hell and back in their ten-minute drive to the diner, “Sorry.”

“Maybe…I should drive us up the coast.” Daniel offered gently.

“No. Dani, please, I’ll be better on the highway, I promise. The constant stopping and starting is just…tricky.”

Daniel looked over at her and her pleading expression and he sighed, grabbing her cheeks in one hand and leaned in to pull her lips to his for a kiss, “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

Loretta grinned at him.

They ate lunch together in the diner – hamburgers and strawberry milkshakes of course – and then headed back to the car for their little road trip.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?” Daniel asked again as she sat behind the wheel.

“I am sure.” Loretta nodded, sliding her sunglasses to the top of her head and sent him a sweet smile. The sun made her freckles stand out and Daniel habitually swiped his thumb over them before tapping the tip of her nose. He was stalling.

A group of teenage girls walked past on the sidewalk and their eyes lingered on the pretty girl behind the wheel of the bright red sports car, nothing but jealousy in their eyes. Loretta only smiled at them through the windshield as Daniel pressed a kiss to her cheek. Was there really anything wrong with flaunting what she was proud to have?

Daniel finally walked around the car and climbed in beside her, taking a deep breath and they prepared to head towards Highway 1. Loretta put the car into reverse and Daniel kept an extra eye out as she backed out of the parking spot and onto the beach side road to make sure they weren’t going to hit anything. They almost clipped a curb but he managed to grab the wheel in time to avoid it, only making Loretta mumble another ‘oops’ before she was switching to drive and pulling off down the road with a jerk.

“Oh boy.” Daniel blurted out, reaching out a hand to hold onto the dashboard through his skyrocketing anxiety, “I love you so much.”

Loretta only giggled proudly, and he directed her towards the highway exit. Sure enough, it was smoother once they were on straight road and Loretta pressed her foot down harder on the gas as they picked up speed, the ocean right on their left and the California hills directly on their right, the summer wind streaking through their hair in the open top convertible. Loretta shrieked with excitement and reached to turn on the radio, turning up the volume nice and loud as they sped down Highway 1.

“Good golly, this is incredible!” Loretta cheered. She sang along loudly to the radio’s top hits, pushing twenty over the speed limit under the perfect California sun.

Daniel relaxed more into his seat since they were no longer hitting stop signs every block and he draped his left arm over the back of the seats and took a moment to take in the scenery. His eyes drifted from the sparkling blue sea to Loretta’s beaming face and her cheerful singing as she took the road like a pro-driver. She lifted one hand off the steering wheel to throw up in the air, her soft curls and red ribbon billowing in the breeze that whooshed past them, her fingers curling around nothing as if trying to grab the air.

“Daniel James Seavey! I am absolutely in love with you and your car!” Loretta shouted as loud as she could.

Daniel laughed joyfully, throwing his own hands in the air and tossed his head back against the leather seats to just be in the moment with her. They drove all the way up to Santa Maria in wine country – two-and-a-half hours out of Los Angeles – and took a pit stop to grab something to eat and use a gas station washroom before going to head home again.

It was well past dinner time when they returned to LA and they were both still riding the highs of the beautiful scenery and good music and perfect company. Loretta pulled up to the curb down the street from her house and made sure to put the car in park before turning to face Daniel and leaned right in to kiss him strongly.

He smiled into it, pushing his hand through the back of her hair to keep her close and they kissed lazily for a few short minutes before Loretta was sitting back again.

“Thank you for today.”

“Thank you for not killing us.” Daniel added.

She giggled and left him with a few more kisses before she reached into the backseat and picked up her book bag before climbing out of the car. Daniel shuffled over to sit behind the wheel again and grabbed her hand before she could walk off. He pulled her back to the side of the car and down to kiss her lips again.

“I love you forever.”

Loretta smiled widely, “I love you forever and five days.”

“Call me.”

“You got it, lover boy.” Loretta kissed him once more before hopping onto the sidewalk and rushing a few houses down to her own.

Her lie didn’t get her far as the moment she stepped inside, her father shouted the time across the house to her, claiming that the library closed three hours ago. Despite being twenty years old – “then you should be old enough to know that you should be taking your studies seriously” – Loretta was grounded for the rest of the week and sent to her room.

Daniel called her when he got home since he hadn’t heard from her, only to be told by her father that she was grounded and he even gave Daniel a bit of a stern talking-to as well. He should be supporting her education not taking her out on aimless adventures.

Loretta was laying on her bed, glaring at the ceiling, when there was a knock at her window. She got up and walked around to her window, sliding the glass open and leaned her head out. Daniel was stood on the grass underneath her bedroom window with a little smirk on his face,

“Let me up. Just cuz you’re grounded doesn’t mean we can’t still have fun, right?”

#🍓#daniel seavey #soulmate au #why dont we #daniel seavey fanfic #daniel seavey imagines

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toyboy-molloy · 4 years

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reddie but eddie is richie’s bodyguard | part two | part three

If there was one thing Richie Tozier was proud of, it was his fans. They were much like him - loud, desperate for attention and knew how to have a laugh. He’d never particularly worried about his safety. There was the odd overzealous fan who would sneak into his dressing room and take a memento or break into his hotel room. Richie always shrugged it off, even sharing a drink with the fans before his manager, Steve, dragged in hotel security to escort them out. Eventually, he’d had enough and insisted Richie hire his own personal security before things got worse. The comedian was reluctant. It wasn’t his style, he didn’t want to appear unapproachable to his fans. But that all went to shit the moment he met Eddie Kaspbrak.

Richie first met him in his dressing room after one of his shows. Steve had hurried him backstage and through the crowd before he could even say a word, slamming the door behind them. He caught Richie’s eye immediately and he wasn’t disappointed with what he saw. Eddie was shorter than he expected but he was cute, lean, nice smile, lovely eyes. The whole package. Steve was busy pouring drinks, indicating the bodyguard as he did.

“Richie, this is Eddie Kaspbrak, the guy I was telling you about,” Eddie nodded in acknowledgement, accepting his drink of water from Steve. Richie didn’t say anything, choosing instead to glare at his manager. Steve rolled his eyes, knocking back his shot of whiskey, “I know what you’re gonna say, Rich, but that’s three times this week you’ve had a close call. What if next time they’ve got a gun?”

“What, you think he’s gonna stop them?” Richie indicated Eddie, who looked up, frowning slightly. The comedian hadn’t meant to offend him and quickly added, “no offence, man, but you know, you’re like five feet tall.”

“Five nine, jackass. It’s average height.”

It sounded to Richie as though that wasn’t the first Eddie had said that. The thought made him smile. He placed his empty glass on the coffee table and folded his arms, facing Eddie.

“Have you ever beaten anyone up before? And I’m not talking about for lunch money.”

Eddie and Steve exchanged a glance, the latter giving a single quick nod. In an instant, Eddie was on his feet and rolling up the sleeves on his jacket, “okay, asshole, you think you can take me?”

Richie smirked, “are we talking a fight or...?”

“Yeah. A fight.”

Richie wanted to laugh. The man was a little spitfire, small and angry. He wanted to wrap him in a blanket and play with his hair, not fight him. He glanced at Steve, noticing he was setting a handful of tissues and a bottle of whiskey on the table. He shrugged, stepping closer.

“Okay but I don’t wanna hurt-”

Eddie punched him, not hard enough to break his nose but hard enough to knock him off balance and stumble into the chair beside Steve. He held his throbbing jaw as Steve smugly handed over a pre-made ice pack. Richie grumbled, pressing it to his bruised mouth. Eddie sat beside him, tenderly dabbing at the small cut on his lip. Richie stared at him in awe, sighing dramatically.

“Okay, now I’m hard,” Eddie laughed, ducking his head to hide the cute little blush on his face. Richie smiled, too, “and you’re hired.”

“Well, this is me,” Richie said as he and Eddie entered his apartment. Immediately, the bodyguard swept the apartment, checking the windows and various rooms, “you don’t have to do that. I’ve been away on tour so the place is empty.”

"Does anyone use the apartment whilst you’re gone?” Eddie was frantically tapping away on his phone. Richie shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Nope. I mean, Stan waters the plants and looks after Beef Jerky but apart from that it’s just me.”

Eddie paused his typing, looking up curiously, “Beef Jerky?”

“My cat. BJ for short,” he said with a pleased smirk, “you should see the look on the neighbours faces when I call him in the mornings.”

Eddie didn’t know why but he found himself laughing, shaking his head as he continued to make notes. He’d never had a client make him laugh as much as Richie did. He’d also never enjoyed working a job as much as this one, despite only having had the assignment for a couple of hours. Richie was a great guy, funny, charming and good-looking. His stupid large glasses that kept slipping down his face, his wide goofy smile. Eddie could get lost in his eyes if he wasn’t careful.

“Okay, I’m going to need a list of friends and relatives you trust so I can give them clearance,” Richie nodded understandingly, watching Eddie pace around his messy apartment, “I’m gonna head home. We’ll go over basic defensive procedures in the morning. Here’s my number if you have a concern,” he handed over a card, displaying his personal contact number and emergency number, “lock the door behind me, don’t let anyone in you don’t trust.”

“Do you wanna stick around?” Richie almost blurted out the question, swallowing urgently and slowly adding, “you know, off the clock?”

Eddie looked amused as he removed his coat and jacket, draping them over the chair, “you want me to stay?” Richie nodded quickly, glancing briefly at his hot bodyguard. He’d rolled his sleeves again, the sight nearly making Richie pass out. Eddie, however, smiled at him, folding his arms, “I am kinda hungry. Do you wanna order some food?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Richie smiled softly, moving over to the couch and patting the space beside him like a little kid with a crush. Eddie joined him shyly, keeping a respectable distance much to Richie’s disappointment. He quickly placed an order on his phone, tossing it aside and reaching for a controller, “Street Fighter while we wait?”

Eddie smiled, “you’re on.”

#I'd be very open to a part two if the response is good. just saying ;)#I think there's potential for a lot of flirting if eddie teaches richie self defence you know...#reddie fanfic #my writing

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avengerscompound · 5 years

Text

Catch and Release - 1

Catch and Release: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 2418

Rating: M

Square filled: @buckybarnesbingo - K4, Survival in the Wild, @happystevebingo - “You’re so warm.”, @star-spangled-bingo - Kinky Confessions

Warnings: Sex talk, minor injuries

Synopsis: While tracking rogue HYDRA Agents through the wilderness, you push yourself too far and collapse. While Steve and Bucky stop with you to recover, some secrets come out.

Chapter 1: The Hunt

You trudged along after Steve and Bucky. You had been walking for days through canyons and remote woodlands trying to keep track of the rogue HYDRA agents that you were trying to catch. The fact you were not a supersoldier was starting to catch up with you. Your legs were burning and the lack of breaks and the relatively short stops to sleep was making you a little delirious.

Steve and Bucky didn’t seem to be showing signs of even slowing down. They’d stop, look around the area. Make a decision on what direction the HYDRA agents had gone and continue on the trail.

“I think we’re starting to box them in,” Bucky said. “They’re being very predictable. Every move is what my handlers would have done if they were being hunted too.”

Steve brought up a holographic map of the area and you leaned against a tree and took a long drink from your canteen. You were starting to feel useless in this whole situation. When it had started you were keeping up, ordering them around, figuring out little signs of false leads before they did. It’s why they had you with them. Now, it was taking all your concentration just to keep moving.

“If we call Tony and Nat in here -” Steve said pointing to an area on the map. “-and Sam and Rhodey here, that’ll cover both feasible exits.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, that’d be what they do. There’s no way they’re going to try and scale this with us following them.” Bucky said pointing to another area. “And if they double back we’ve got them.”

Steve tapped something out on the tablet and tucked it back away and both men began to walk again. You shook your head like you were trying to clear it and took after them. Only this time your legs didn’t seem to want to cooperate. You tripped over your own feet and went sprawling.

Bucky and Steve both stopped suddenly and looked back at you. After the initial shock of seeing you sprawled out on the ground, Steve was the first to react, moving quickly to your side. “What just happened? Are you okay?”

You tried to pull yourself up, but now you were down, you didn’t seem to be able to get back up. “I can’t… You should both go on. I can’t keep up with the pace you’re setting. I need to recover.” You said, trying to stay rational despite the fact you actually felt like you were going to cry. “I’ll - I’ll call in an evac.”

Bucky moved to your other side but unlike Steve who was crouched beside you and checking you over for injuries, he remained slightly distant and standing. “Why didn’t you say something?” He asked, pulling out a protein bar and offering it to you. “We could have slowed down.”

You took it shook your head. “Didn’t want to be the reason they got away.”

“Oh god,” Steve said. “We’re sorry. I guess we get used to the pace we set. Next time say something. You’re no good like this either.”

“Good news is, the HYDRA agents aren’t super-soldiers either. So they’re probably in a similar state to you.” Bucky added.

“I’m sorry,” you said taking a bite of the bar. “You can really leave me though.”

“No,” Steve said. “We can’t. We don’t leave people behind.”

“It’s nearly dark. We could probably set up camp.” Bucky said, more talking to Steve than you. “Those agents are probably going to be struggling too.”

Steve gave a short nod and brought up the tablet again. He quickly typed something up and put it away again. “Alright. We need to find somewhere.” He said. “You okay if I carry you?”

“I can walk.” You protested.

“I know. You’re a very tough field agent. But it’ll be quicker if I carry you.” He said, sounding far too reasonable when talking about something that was so fucking embarrassing.

“Fine,” you pouted.

Steve put your arm around his shoulders and lifted you. Bucky took the lead and the two of them carried on through the underbrush, following the trail left by the HYDRA agents. They reached a clearing near a brook. Bucky took off his pack and started digging around in it while Steve put you down on the ground.

Bucky pulled out a retractable bow and got up and stretched. “Gonna do a sweep,” he said. “Find something to eat, see if I can spot them.”

“Alright, not as good Hawkeye.” You teased.

Bucky rolled his eyes and flipped his middle finger at you before stalking off into the trees. Steve began to massage your calves.

“Sorry for pushing you so hard.” He said. “Get all ‘head in the game’ sometimes.”

You gave a small shrug. “So did I apparently. We’ll still get them, right?”

Steve nodded. “They had a huge lead on us, but like Bucky said, they’ve been really predictable. Even if I had to piggyback you and we had no one to funnel them into we’d personally be right on top of them within a day. Less if they’re struggling like you are.”

You huffed and lay back against your pack. “That’s something, I guess.”

“Alright. So, you need to eat and rehydrate. Sleep. Do we have any of those heat packs?” Steve said, quickly changing modes again. He took his hands off you and as much as you hated being babied, you hated his hands coming off you more. They had felt so good, working your muscles and now it almost felt like there was something missing.

He dug around in his pack and pulled out a medical kit. “Oh good,” he said opening it and pulling out a couple of heat packs. He pressed the button to activate them and tossed them over to you, before going and getting some water from the brook.

You put the heat packs on your thighs and began to eat some jerky as you watched Steve fuss around the camp, setting up sleeping bags. Getting out a couple of small camp stoves and boiling water. He set up a net in the water and a series of rocks to funnel the rush of water into it. When he seemed to have everything how he wanted he came back over to you and began massaging your legs again. The sun had mostly set and there was a chill to the air.

“Hopefully, Buck is back soon.” He said as his fingers pushed the tension out of your muscles.

You relaxed a little and closed your eyes. “How long have the two of you been together?”

“Me and Buck?” He said a slightly shocked tone to his voice you assumed was due to the question coming out of the blue. “Uhh… hmm… I guess it’s coming up to three years since we made it official. It’s hard to say exactly where you count it from though. We were dancing around each other since we were kids.”

You chuckled. “That’s cute.”

“I guess so. Childhood sweethearts, I guess you’d say. If you could call him a sweetheart.” He joked. “I’ve only been with him… you know…?”

“Oh wow.” You said opening your eyes. “You don’t ever wonder what else the world has to offer?”

Steve shrugged. “I mean, sure, I wonder about it. Buck…” He cut himself off and laughed awkwardly. “Wow, that was nearly a too much information story.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Wow, Steve Rogers nearly got all dirty talk with me. Wait until I tell the others.”

He chuckled and his cheeks flushed a soft pink. “Oh boy, Tony’s gonna have fun with that.”

His hands moved higher up your thighs and you let out an involuntary moan as the tension released in them.

“That was quite a noise,” Bucky teased, stepping out of the shadows.

You jumped a little, still unused to the way Bucky could just appear out of nowhere like a cat. Steve barely even reacted aside from looking up and smiling at him. He had the bow on his back and in his hand, there was a bird and two rabbits that had been skinned and gutted

“You trying to fulfill some of those fantasies, Stevie?”

“Wait, what?” You asked looking from Steve to Bucky.

Bucky opened his mouth to say something and Steve quickly shushed him. “Buck.” He said seriously. The name carried a warning to say no more, which made you wonder even more what that was supposed to mean.

“So, they had already set up camp over the ridge. The idiots had started a fire so I barely even had to look for them. I’d say they’re about a 6-hour walk. 2 hours if I just sprinted over there. So I just set up a surveillance cam and FRIDAY will let us know if they move.” Bucky said.

“You’re sure they’re there and it’s not a distraction?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, I saw them. All of them. Counted them off.” Bucky said the edge of sarcasm to his voice. “I also caught a grouse and two rabbits. I think we can probably start a fire here now it’s dark. It’s pretty thick underbrush around us and they are not in the eye line for us. But we can use the camp stoves to cook if you want to avoid the risk.”

Steve let go of your legs and stood up. “No, I trust your instinct. Be easier to cook those on a fire too.” He said. “I set up a fish trap. You want to check that and I’ll start the fire?”

“You just don’t want to gut the fish, do you?” Bucky teased moving over to the water.

Steve didn’t say anything, which you took to mean, yes. Instead, he went right to clearing an area for a fire and setting it up with rocks and kindling. You went to stand and help and both Steve and Bucky looked over at you with narrowed eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?” Bucky asked.

“Helping?”

“No,” Steve said, firmly. “Sit back down. You need to recover. We still have walking tomorrow.”

“Fine.” You huffed, letting yourself flop back down.

It wasn’t long before a fire was crackling and the three of you were sitting around it eating a mixture of the roast meats and dehydrated vegetables the three of you had been carrying with you.

“You guys are good at this tracking, wilderness survival stuff,” you said, taking a drink of the tea Steve had made. “Why did you need me to come along again?”

“Well, when you’re not weak from exhaustion and dehydration, you’re actually better than us at this,” Steve said. “I hate this stuff.”

“Yeah?” You asked, not quite believing it. They were more than capable.

“Oh yeah, Steve is a total city slicker.” Bucky teased. “And I’m not much better. I know this stuff because I had it drilled into me, but…” he flinched and shook his head. “Gotta go pretty dark for it to come naturally to me. Otherwise, I’m just bumbling around like Barton.”

You laughed. “That’s what it is!” You said clicking your fingers. “I can never get used to you stalking out of the shadows. It’s because at the compound you trip over your own shoelaces.”

Bucky looked at you deadpan. “Thanks.”

“Sorry, I failed you.” You said with a frown.

“Hey, cut that out,” Steve said. “You’re human. This is our fault for forgetting that.” He got up and tossed the bones from his food into the fire and then grabbed the plates and took them to the brook to wash them. “We should get some sleep. They’ll be up early so we need to be up earlier.”

Bucky nodded and the two of you got up and cleaned up too. You climbed into your sleeping bag. “It’s cold tonight.” You said.

“We might be able to help with that,” Bucky said, moving his sleeping bag close to yours. He lay down pressed up against you and Steve moved in, lying on your other side so you were pressed in between them.

“You’re so warm.” You hummed softly.

“The serum makes our metabolism run fast,” Steve said. “Should keep you warm.”

“Thank you.” You said, closing your eyes. Steve leaned over you and kissed Bucky gently. You smiled at the soft sound of their lips touching before he pulled back again. “Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve asked.

“Tell me the things you both were going to say and then didn’t.” You said playfully.

“Really? You’re gonna pick at that?” He snarked.

“Mmm-hmm.” You said. “I just want to know.”

“Yeah, Steve,” Bucky teased. “Tell her.”

“I think there are sexual harassment laws that might prevent me from doing that,” Steve said. “I mean… even if I wanted to.”

“Oh my god!” You said and burst out laughing. “Now you have to tell me.”

“I’m not sure that tracks.” He argued.

“Steve, I’m just gonna wonder forever!”

He sighed and shook his head. “Fine, but I’m doing it under duress. And then you have to sleep.”

Bucky started to laugh and he pressed his forehead against your shoulder. “There you go, Stevie.”

“So… I told you Bucky’s the only one I’ve ever been with,” Steve said sounding flustered. “The joke he made about me fulfilling some of my fantasies is that like I said I do wonder about what it’s like with other people. Women specifically.”

“Not just any women.” Bucky teased.

“Shut. Up.” Steve said between his teeth. “And the thing I was going to say but didn’t was that sometimes our foreplay is Bucky talking about what being with a woman feels like and describing threesomes and asking who I’d like to have a threesome with. And … that’s it. I can’t talk about this anymore.”

“Aww look at you, pal.” Bucky teased and leaned over and kissed Steve’s forehead. “Admitting your fantasies to other people.”

“That was awful,” Steve grumbled.

You reached up and touched Steve’s cheek. His skin was hot and you thought he must be blushing. “Steve,” you whispered. “When we get back if you wanna make them not fantasies any more… You know where to find me.”

Steve choked on air and started coughing, and you felt Bucky’s hand on your hip. His lips came close to your ear and when he spoke it was in a low rumble. “When we get back, we might just take you up on that.”

// NEXT

#happy steve bingo #starspangledbingo #buckybarnesbingo2019 #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #the hunt #catch and release

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indiavolowetrust · 4 years

Note

Ok ok let's take a break from from (rightfully) bitching about how the game could have been ~spicyer~ and imagine this: police officer!satan x thief! Reader who's in a tight leather Catwoman/black cat suit 👀👀👀👀

Thanks for sending in an ask / request! And yeah, let’s take a break hehe. This is a little out of my comfort zone, but I took it as the following: MC is a thief who has been caught by their childhood friend, who has instead turned to a life of law and justice. Tones of noir. Think of MC as a jewel thief, Satan as a gumshoe detective, and the entire exchange in the black and white tones of older movies.

I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

“They say you’re a demon, you know. All that anger in one neat little package.” The interior of the constable’s automobile is dark, even with the aid of the vehicle’s external lights, but you know better than anyone that Satan can see the smile beneath your mask. The tightening of his knuckles on the steering wheel is all you need as confirmation. “Just like your name, right? Always wonder why Mama called you that.”

His eyes flicker briefly to yours in the mirror, his gaze just as piercing as ever. “You’re not charming your way out of this one.”

“We’ll see.”

It will be approximately twenty minutes to the station, of course. Five minutes from the museum, ten minutes to pass the main street, and another five minutes to pull into the parking spot. Maybe another minute or so for him to wrangle you out of the car and into the station, depending on how much resistance you give him. Given that you’ve opted to go on a heist without a partner -- a foolish decision on your part, you realize now -- you’ll have to find a way to distract him for an extra five minutes. Should be enough for that light-fingered crow to figure out where you are, anyway.

And so you wait.

“That new uniform looks absolutely wonderful on you,” you croon, adding only the slightest lilt to the end of the phrase. You stretch out in the backseat of the automobile, and your feet meet the window. The cuffs don’t get in the way of that, at least. “Did you get a promotion?”

“No.”

“Just a change of wardrobe, then?”

“You know damn well I haven’t been promoted in a decade,” Satan nearly snarls, his verdant gaze flashing with irritation. “If you could just shut up, this would go a lot a smoother. A lot better for you, at least.”

You hum. “But where’s the fun in that? I thought you liked playing games. All that back there was pretty much just hide-and-seek.”

“We have to find criminals like you so we can bring about the peace.” His knuckles tighten once more on the steering wheel, and automobile swerves just slightly in turn. Your goading is working, evidently. “Hardly a game of hide-and-seek, if you ask me.”

“Huh. I thought you liked that game the best,” you remark. You play idly with the cuffs of your costume -- no, suit, considering its current usage -- and cast a sidelong glance towards the blond-haired detective. You catch his eye. Good.

“I didn’t.”

“Then what was all that crying when you were a kid?” you ask, teasing him further. “You used to be so much cuter back then with that little cat toy of yours. I almost miss you hanging onto my sleeve.”

His cheeks color slightly under the light of a passing street lamp. “I didn’t cry that much.”

“So all that crying was just a reason to hang onto me, then.”

“Sure.”

You smirk at him, your expression just visible under the partial disguise. “I thought cops weren’t supposed to lie,” you tease. You glance just outside the window, taking in the image of the main street. Ten minutes left. “Thought all of you were supposed to be high and mighty. By the books, you know.”

Satan says nothing at that -- either a sign of his growing irritation or his sudden surge to remain silent and not stoop to your low blows. Given his inherently wrathful nature -- he was always a snotty little brat -- you can hardly imagine it to be the latter. You feel the automobile make one of its final turns down the main street, its engine beginning to slow. If you can’t manage to incite his wrath, to throw him off his game, you’ll be stuck with a level-headed Satan. Namely, the more dangerous, efficient version of your childhood friend. The light of a street lamp flickers across the windows of the vehicle, and you begin to feel a surge of panic. The lock you’ve been picking with a hairpin won’t give itself away quickly enough.

Five minutes. You’ll need to think of something.

You pull slightly at the cat-shaped mask of your ensemble, tracing a tongue against the curve of your lower lip. You had made sure to paint it red just for this night. Satan stiffens slightly in the mirror, his gaze once more flickering away from you, and you see his jaw grit just slightly. Then there is the set posture of his shoulders, the white knuckles, the flush that has come to make itself known over his visage -- and a sense of victory begins to well up within you.

Satan is weak to you. Always has been, even when you two were kids.

The vehicle is parked a short distance to the station. He only traces the rather revealing contours of your cat-like suit for only a moment, his professionalism falling to pieces -- and then he forces his gaze to lock with yours, intent on not letting you have your way. Of course, that won’t be the case.

Never will be.

You walk in a deliberately slow manner, forcing Satan to slow his pace with yours. Blink slowly beneath your mask, your features only just barely shrouded by the disguise.

“You could’ve gone into the force like me,” he says, breaking the silence. His gaze tears away from you for just a moment, his thoughts preoccupied with what appears to be regret. You're close. “You could’ve broken the pattern instead of -- instead of doing this,” he continues. “I still don’t understand why --”

His visage has turned itself fully away from you. Now’s your chance.

You trip the detective in one swift movement, forcing him to stagger away from you, and use the free moment away from his hands to finally release yourself from the confines of the cuffs. They clatter uselessly to the ground. The detective lets out a soft groan as his back slams into the brick wall of a nearby building, his features contorting in pain. His body momentarily stunned in the aftermath. The light of a passing car begins to make its way towards the both of you -- presumably also towards the station -- and you immediately drag Satan into a nearby alley.

Still, it’s not enough. A quick glance tells you that Mammon -- that damned greedy crow -- has yet to find your location, much less arrive. You force a knee between the detective’s legs and a hand over his mouth, muffling his yells of protest.

‘Hush!“ you hiss at the equally irritated detective, furrowing your brows. “I’m going to get caught!”

Satan only struggles from beneath your vice-like grip, grousing a number of complaints from beneath your fingers. Struggling with enough force to nearly knock you away from him, the jerky movements necessitating that you adjust this way and that. The cat-like bodysuit that you’ve chosen to wear for the heist -- yet another foolish touch of theatrics on your part -- allows you a limited amount of movement, further hindering your attempts to keep the detective under your control. Unlike the adorable, sniffling child he used to be, the full grown man that he is now is much more difficult to control.

And so you decide to let go.

Satan’s face is completely flushed, his pale skin now beet-red beside his blond hair. “You -- you’ve already been caught, so just --”

God, he’s loud.

You seal your mouth over his in the span of a moment, effectively silencing whatever noise he would have made to draw attention to your location. Taking away his breath. His eyes are still open wide by the time you close yours, the surprise evident on his features. It means little to you. You force your tongue past the barrier of his lips, exploring the inside of his mouth as you do so, and tangle your fingers in the blond locks. A measure of necessity, given his previous attempts to struggle away from your grip.

You do not know how long the kiss lasts, nor do you care. You only need to stall for time. Satan all but melts under your false affection, sighing into your mouth. You angle your mouth beneath his to deepen the kiss, further occupying his attention.

And then there is the revving of an engine some distance away from your position in the alleyway. Mammon.

Time to go, you think.

You push yourself away from Satan just in time to see the lights of Mammon’s car begin to make itself up the alleyway. Shove the hapless detective’s body even further into the brick. Again there is that gasp of pain, prompting his realization -- but by the time he gathers his wits, it is far too late. You only grin at him from the inside of Mammon’s vehicle before slamming the door shut, catching the pathetic surprise in his eyes. It is nothing short of satisfying: Satan is weak, as always. For as much literature he consumes, he’s just as easy to deceive as he was as a child.

There is only the vaguest hint of unfamiliarity in his eyes as you and Mammon drive away from the police station. It flashes across the verdant puppies for only a half-second, dissipating quickly into the hue -- but it is enough to draw your attention. Not quite vexation, not quite rage. Not quite irritation, not quite annoyance. Not quite any of those things that made Satan the wrathful little beast he is as a detective.

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he looked disappointed.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me!#obey me satan #obey me asks #obey me ask #asks #ask #ugh this is terrible #i literally just chugged this one out

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