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hahahahahangst · 2 years

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En and Xanax (Be The Young 9)

GIANT TW which will be valid for each episode for suicidal thoughts, self-h*rm, violence, cursing, relatives dying, mentions of s*x, **s*xual assault**

All chapter titles are song titles, some of them translated from Italian songs. We start from the first season and make out way through the series. I will break canon (mostly from the S2 finale) but will try to get back into it for the sake of ✨ lore ✨ .

Summary: Emily's life used to be normal. Until one day, her family died, leaving behind just one letter.

"After reading this whole letter, call John Winchester. [...] He’s your real father."

MASTERLIST

En and Xanax

SONG

En and Xanax didn’t know each other before a shared panic attack e immediately they went along. She was the daughter of an american who moved to Rome and he was the son of a bitch long retired. If you won’t get scared of my fears one day you’ll tell me yours and we’ll find a way to take them out. [...] Ex and Xanax, when they fought, they could have stopped the traffic on New York Or kill each other through the phone Then she calmed down and he found her naked on chair

When John started to set up all the info he had on the demon on the wall of the motel, Emily could not believe her eyes and how much information he had. There were maps and books, pictures, charts, and articles from newspapers. To see it all like that, their goal looked as close as ever. They found the Colt, they had all of that info: how difficult could it be to find him?

"Dad, when did you collect all of this?" Asked Emily.

"In the last year, since I left. That's when he finally resurfaced for good."

"I thought that happened when I came along."

"That was an isolated episode, but the signs were all there."

"Signs?" Intervened Dean. Emily started flocking through the paper on the desk.

"He's going after families. All houses burned to the ground, six months old children." Explained John.

"Just like you, Sam." Commented Dean. "...and just like Alex." He looked at Emily, who nodded.

"So basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason. The same way it came for me? So Mom's death...Jessica. Is it all because of me?" Asked Sam.

"We have no proof of that, Sam." Said Emily, maybe with a little too much bitterness. Dean looked at her, probably wondering if he should intervene.

"Oh really?" Said Sam, sarcastic. "Because it looks like we are pretty damn sure!"

Emily took a deep breath. "Sure Sam, because the entire hell dimension revolves about your pretty hair." She said, even more sarcastically. She took a pile of newspaper clippings from the desk and put it in his hands. "Just… start reading, would you?" Sam took the paper and tried to mutter something under his breath, but she ignored him. Dean looked at her and if Emily didn’t know better, she would have swore he was holding back a proud smile. She had been going hard on Sam for the previous hours, finding every opportunity to be bitter to him. He was behaving like a child and so she treated him like such.

She was used to nightmares. She had them most nights. But usually, she would dream of something close to her. Her mother, her brother Alex, her old life. This time, it was more confusing and foggy than usual: she saw a man with yellow eyes in a dark room. She heard a baby coo and she saw a woman looking out of a window. Then, everything got clearer. She could smell flowers, just like the ones her mother used to buy. Slowly, she started to feel in pain. In the beginning it was a subtle tingle, but it soon became a stab right at the base of her chest. The man was still looking at her.

She woke up in a panic, sweaty and towered by Dean. She tried to sit down and realized she was on the ground. The pain disappeared with her nightmare and she slowly started to realize where she was. She was traveling towards the nearest city to do some research with Sam and Dean.

“Are you okay?” Asked Dean, helping her sit. The car was still running a handful of feet away from them.

“Yeah, just- just a bad dream I guess.” She wiped her forehead from the sweat and tried to recollect.

“Are you sure?” Asked Sam, who had also appeared next to her, a little too worried for her liking. Dean also seemed overly upset to her.

“Sam, it was just a dream. A bad one, but still a dream.”

He nodded. She slowly made her way back to the car and fell asleep almost immediately.

When they finally got to Iowa, and they walked to the city archives, she was still ignoring Sam. In the previous weeks he had tried several times to apologize, but she had never let him speak more than a couple of words. She sat two tables away from him and started to collect names and names of all kids that fit the criteria of turning six months old soon.

She heard the sound of a rolling chair approaching her and she knew immediately that Sam was trying to apologize to her for the tenth time that week.

“How’s it going?”

“Slow.”

“Listen, I-” Emily cut him out by standing up and putting away the first box of files, taking the second one. He went after her. “Would you let me apologize to you?”

“No.” She said, sternly slamming the box on the table. “I am busy.”

“How long will you hold the grudge against me?”

“Until I say so.”

“Why?” To that question, Emily froze and took a deep breath. She was about to lash out at him, but it was not the right place, nor the right time.

“Because.” She sat back down and went back to her research. Sam had some audacity to think everything could be solved with a simple apology. He went from being her sole ally to going against her for no reason other than their dad being there. Being two-faced was something Emily learnt to not accept as a kid and she was not going to start now.

He would have to do a little more than apologizing to win her trust back.

Later, they were walking back to the car when Sam started clutching his head in pain. It was quick, but Emily gave up her mission of not talking to him and insisted he sat down for a second. She stood over him while he took deep breaths and then, suddenly, took out a map. He started looking at it, intensely. Emily waited for an explanation that never came. Instead, Sam hastily walked back to the car and started driving. After a while, she noticed they were not going to the motel.

“Sam, where are we going?” Asked Emily, worried by the sudden mood change.

“I saw something.” He stated, not giving any additional explanation. He looked and sounded just like their father.

“...and?”

“We need to go there now.” Emily sighed deeply.

"Sam, I swear to god if you don't explain to me what is going on I'll crash the fucking car."

Sam looked at her, surprised as if he was taken out of a trance. He quickly explained to her a vision that looked a little too much like her dream.

"Sam." She said, deadly serious. "Are you sure?" He nodded. "Because that's what I dreamt about this morning…" Emily saw him swallow, nervous, but he didn't answer.

She sat there and quickly texted Dean to let him know their location. Sam stopped the car in a house complex. He looked over to a building and looked back at the map. “God, dad is going to be furious when he hears about this.” Concluded Emily, recognizing the house as being the one from her dream.

Sam weakly smiled and then left the car, going towards a woman who was walking by. Emily followed him, ready to follow whatever fake scenario he had in mind. Sam chatted with the woman: she had a small child, turning six months that exact day. Emily held the baby while Sam and the woman kept chatting, her brother pretending that they had just moved in the neighborhood.

The second the mother mentioned the age of her daughter, it was as if Emily could hear Sam swearing in his head. Eventually, the woman went back into the house and the siblings were left alone with all the questions that the encounter had raised.

“What do you think it’s going on?” Asked Emily, leaning on a trashcan. She would have avoided contact with him very happily, but the situation called for some clarification.

“I wish I could tell you, but I have no idea either.”

Emily stayed silent for a while. “Sam… do you think…?” She had so many questions, none of which, she was sure, Sam could answer. She still was not too sure she wanted to talk to him. But her most pressing question was if this vision had something to do with how their mothers died.

“I don’t really know.” Said Sam. But Emily didn’t speak. Emily didn’t ask anything. She raised her eyebrows. Sam seemed surprised. “What?”

“You don’t know… what?”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t ask anything.”

“Uh- I must have misheard then.” He said, shrugging. They both headed back to the car and Sam drove them back to the motel.

When they got there, John was not happy to hear the news. “When were you planning on telling me about this?” He asked. Emily was leaning on the desk and looked over to Dean, who stood right in front of her. Sam, in the middle of them leaning on a chair, didn’t know what to say. Her dad looked angry, as if they were hiding things from him on purpose. In reality, most of it had just happened.

Dean was the one who finally spoke. “We did not know what it meant.” He sighed deeply. But then, he looked over to Emily. “Are you sure it was the same house?”

“Same house, same baby. I am sure, Dean.” Her brother brushed his face with his hands and sat down on the bed.

“You should have called.” Said John. Emily intercepted Sam about to answer in the worst way possible.

“We did.” Said Emily. “So many times. You could’ve-”

Sam's phone rang at that moment. Emily wasn’t able to continue the argument, because Sam called the caller by name. Meg.

Emily looked at Dean, who looked back at her with at least as much disbelief that came from Sam’s mouth. “Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window.”

A little later, Sam passed his phone to John. Emily sat down next to Dean. She wasn’t able to put together enough of the conversation, but she heard John get progressively angrier and angrier. “I’ll bring you the colt.” He said. Emily stood up immediately, ready to complain, but Dean was faster to intercept her and cover her mouth with his hand, which she bit. He mouthed “ouch” while shaking his hand, but he let her go. John hung up the phone.

“Dad, you cannot give her the gun!” Protested Emily. Dean scowled at her, but did not try to stop her again, nor did he complain.

“She’s got Caleb. She’s killing all of our hunter friends just to get to us.” Said John, ignoring Emily’s words.

“Do you think she’s possessed?” Said Sam, nervous.

“I think so.”

“What do we do?”

“I’m going to Lincoln.” Said John, turning to pack. “If I don’t, a lot of people will die.”

“Dad, the demon will be here tonight.” Repeated Emily. “That gun is everything we have!”

“Don’t worry.” Said their dad, in a tone that was all but comforting. “No one really knows what it looks like. We can buy some time.”

“That’s too dangerous.” Said Dean. Finally he decided to side with someone, thought Emily. “She will notice, she is not stupid.” Continued Dean.

“It will get us a few hours.”

“For what?”

“For you. You guys will kill the demon. This ends tonight.” His voice was apocalyptic, stern and cold. Emily’s guts contorted in fear.

It was not a long time later that he had left, hastily. Only Emily, Sam and Dean were left to deal with the fight they had been preparing for years.

Dean frantically prepared his bag. Sam paced back and forth with a book in his hands. Emily, instead, was still sitting on the couch, nervously tapping her fingers on her knee. It took a while for Dean to realize she was weirdly staring in front of her, lost in an emptiness of thought.

“Are you alright?”

“I guess.”

“This is the day, Emily. You get to go back to your Grey’s Anatomy life.” “Yeah…” She said, her gaze lost in front of her.

“You don’t look overly excited as I thought you would.”

“Dean, what would I go back to? Two years of unpaid bills and a dead family.”

“I don’t know, I just thought you would have jumped at the chance of getting rid of us.” She finally moved her gaze from an indefinite point in front of her to Dean’s eyes. Just looking at him made her feel a little angry, thinking of all the times they had fought and all the times he ignored her silent help requests. All the times he had the chance of being a brother and he wasn’t. But the reality was that she knew perfectly well she had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. The main problem was she actually felt some attachment to him. She could ignore it and hide it but her instinctive reaction of hugging him when he came back from the hunt was the irrefutable proof. She just wished things were different, the situation less tense, the fights less frequent and less destructive. “I really think you should go back.” Said Sam. Of course he was keen on getting rid of her. At least Dean had the decency of pretending. “You can always rebuild.”

“Sam, be realistic for a second. I have 12 dollars to my name, everybody in Portland probably thinks I am dead, I don’t have a home, I-”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Of course, nothing is that big a deal, you surely have it worse.” She rolled her eyes, sarcastic and stood up. “Listen, I understand what you are saying. I could rebuild, I could move cities and pretend none of this happened. But it will catch up to me. One day, I will be watching the news and I will see the signs of a ghost Infestation, demon possession and what will I do then? Ignore it?”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“Living the rest of my life scared, on edge? No, absolutely not.”

“What about prom dances, lemon beer and sunset walk?” Said Dean, still busy. “You seemed to want those back pretty badly last time we talked about this.”

Emily walked to the fridge and took out a three pack of lemon beer. He offered one to Sam. He shrugged and accepted. It was a peace offering more than anything else. Dean, instead, was reluctant.

“What?” Asked Emily, using the table to open her bottle.

“This is… lemon beer” he said, a hint of disgust in his voice. “It's basically kids’ juice.”

Emily shook the beer in front of Dean’s face. “We might die tonight, and you are refusing what might be our last beer together?”

"Are you using the 'my last night on earth' pickup line on me?" They smiled.

He finally started drinking. Emily sat back down next to him.

“I don’t really think I should go back right now. In the future, maybe, but now…” She said, tapping the bottom of the beer bottle on her knee repeatedly.

“Emily?” said Dean a while later after finishing the beer. She answered with an absent “uh?” “Is this your weird, bitch way of saying you love us?” Dean had a hint of mocking in his voice. “Don’t let it go over your head” she said, avoiding his gaze and finally starting to get ready to leave.

“We should be there with dad.” Dean was the first one to break the silence. They were sitting in their car in front of Monica’s house, where they knew the demon would strike. Emily didn’t dare answer him. They had one hint of affectionate interaction earlier and she didn’t want to burst the bubble to herself. She looked at her brothers and realized that might have been the last time she ever saw them alive. The demon was not playing around and when he struck, he struck hard.

“Dean, listen: if something happens, ple-”

“Don’t you give me that. No one is dying tonight.” He cut her off.

“Dean, she is not wrong.” Said Sam.

“Yes, she is. And you are too for standing on that side. We need to be focused right now.”

Emily was about to argue back, but just that second, the radio started to sound static and the lights in the house started to flicker. The siblings stumbled out of the car and ran towards the house. They broke in, but were quickly intercepted by Monica’s husband. He attacked Dean and Sam, but Emily was smaller and able to get through them, in the living room and up the stairs. She heard her brothers argue with the man, who was calling for his wife. Emily tried to stop her, but the woman fought her away, almost throwing her down the stairs.

Emily managed to get back and saw the demon standing in front of the crib, just like in her dream. She urgently called Dean’s name. The man temporarily got rid of the husband, rummaging in his pocket. He tried to get up the stairs but Monica’s husband attacked him again. While fighting him away, Dean suggestively gazed at Emily and managed to toss her the Colt.

When she grabbed the gun, she felt a rush of adrenaline go through her whole body. She knew that she only had one shot. Her hand slipped on the safety trigger twice before she was able to grip it correctly and point towards the man. She made sure she was aiming correctly.

Then, it was as if everything moved in slow-motion. She fired, and the bullet moved towards the demon. But as soon as it was supposed to hit, the man disappeared into smoke. It took a couple of seconds to realize that she missed.

She missed.

She had one chance and she blew it.

She froze in place as Sam pushed her over and grabbed the newborn from the crib. She heard Dean call her name, but she didn’t move. She stared at the point where the demon had vanished, contemplating the idea of staying there and just let herself die. “Emily, now is not the time to panic!” She heard her brother screaming. A couple of seconds later, Dean grabbed her by the arm and shoved her towards the exit.

When they were outside, she covered her ears as the room exploded behind them. Dean was next to her, handing the baby back to her mother. He turned around when Emily grabbed his jacket at elbow height. All around them was chaos, fire fighters flowing in as well as the whole neighborhood started to come out to see what was happening, but the second Emily finally got Dean’s attention, everything went silent for a second. “I missed, Dean.” Was all she could say. She started shaking. She looked at her hand, unable to keep it steady. She felt the panic attack overwhelm her without being able to do anything about it. She felt Dean’s leather jacket slip away from her grip as Sam tried to re-enter the burning house. She stared at the flames. They danced and destroyed everything they touched. They would have destroyed Sam as well. Emily quickly got rid of the thought. They would have destroyed her as well. After all, she missed her shot. Some things are not easily forgiven. That was one of them. She managed to walk so close to the house, nobody even noticing, that she could see the flowers on the wallpaper slowly dissolving in the flames and all the plastic toys on the floor melt one by one. She imagined being one of them, slowly letting herself move closer and closer to the burning house.

“If Emily didn’t miss-” Four words that managed to pierce through the veil of panic and despair she currently was in, were all Emily needed to finally react. Suddenly, her thought shifted again: it was not her who should have gone into the flames, it was him. If he wasn’t like he was, if he did not behave like he did, maybe… Yes, it was his fault, the constant fighting, the mocking, they made it clear. The fake apologies, how he pretended to care when she was sick, it was all an act. None of it was real. All he cared about was vengeance.Her body moved automatically, unconsciously. She divided Sam and Dean, who were still fighting, and immediately tried to push Sam to the ground. However, her arms were too shaky, her body too overwhelmed to actually succeed. She tried again. Sam looked at her and mocked her: “No wonder you can’t pull a trigger right, you don’t even have the strength to push me.” She answered with a punch. The contact of her fist on his cheek made her shiver. She had punched people before, but her body was not strong enough at the moment. However, she did it again, this time harder. He finally lost his balance and hit the ground. Dean attempted to stop her, but she hit him in his stomach with her elbow and effectively slowed him down. Soon, she was free of his grip and redirected her anger on Sam.

The first thing she did was punch him a third time. This time, she felt the bones of his nose give up. It sent another shiver down her spine, but she was trembling so much that it made no difference.

“Say to my face!” She screamed, ready to hit him again. “SAY IT TO MY FUCKING FACE!” By the time she screamed that, Dean grabbed her again. This time, she was not able to get free and had to deal with being dragged away, scowling at Sam. In the meantime, Sam had stood up, the nosebleed staining his shirt.

“What exactly is your problem?” He asked, touching his nose, in pain. Emily tried to free herself from Dean again, but the only thing she achieved was that he held her back even tighter, to the point it was actually painful. All that time, she had been shaking and crying and it didn’t matter how much she screamed, there was nothing that made her feel better, nothing that relieved the tension that had built up in her body.

When Dean dragged her and had her sit in the car and started driving, she was still shaking, exhausted. She leaned forward, putting her head on the dashboard. She weakly punched it. She had no strength left in her arms. But she had plenty of air left in her lungs. So she screamed. Suddenly, she felt Dean grab her by the hair and force her upright. “Stop!” He said, while he kept driving with his left hand. “Stop screaming! I get it, you are not okay! Just… stop!” She scowled at him, but stopped screaming. She kept crying, still visibly shaking, until Dean finally stopped the car. He told her to wait there.

In the dark of the night, she clearly distinguished Bobby’s lot. He saw the light turn on in the house. Few minutes later, she was inside. She did not wait for any explanations and went straight to what had been, in the last two years, her room whenever she would stay there. She had left there some books to read and some clothes.

She tried to act like nothing happened: she stripped away her sweaty clothes and took clean ones. Her mind blacked out for several minutes as she stared at the clean clothes, in nothing but her underwear. She stood there, nothing going on in her mind if not the natural reaction of crying and shaking. When she regained half consciousness, she tried to wear the clothes she was holding, but her hands were too shaky, too weak. The clothes fell.

She tried to reach for them but when she leaned forward, she almost fell, immediately getting dizzy.

So she sat down on the bed and finally reached for the clothes. She tried to separate the two layers of fabric, but she could not get her hands to be steady enough. That’s the pathetic state Dean found her when he arrived in the room.

Naked, about to throw up and unable to keep her hands still.

“What are you doing?” He said, interrogatively watching her aggressively clutching the fabric in order to divide it.

“I CAN'T GET TO WEAR THIS FUCKING T-SHIRT!” She screamed, throwing the shirt at him. She leaned forward and kept crying.

Dean sighed. He gathered the now covered in dust t-shirt from the floor and looked at it.

“Alright, come here.” Emily didn’t answer him. “Emily, come here!” He insisted. She looked at him, stood up. He was about to talk when she lept in the corner of the room and threw up in the trash can next to him. “Great…” She heard him whisper. He got out a toilet paper roll from somewhere and offered it to her. She cleaned her face and stood back up. She was about to go back on the bed, but Dean stopped her right in front of him. She looked at the floor. “Let me help you, would you?”

What followed was a series of events that made Emily feel humiliated and ashamed. She could not function by herself. Dean took her and had her walk in the bathroom. She sat in the shower in her underwear as he cleaned the sweat and the dirt and the ash from her body. She gazed over to him, he looked slightly pissed but he was doing it nonetheless. “Dean, you don’t have to do this.”

“Yes I do.” She kept looking at him, looking for a single muscle of his face that could tell her he was not helping her out of pity. She could not find it. When she got out of the shower, water dripping all over the floor, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were all puffed up from all the crying, but somewhere through the shower she stopped crying. Dean threw a t-shirt over her head and helped her fit her shaking hands through the sleeves. Emily felt like a baby, needing help to get dressed, but it was either that or lie naked on the floor. Humiliated, she sat back on the bed and kept crying.

“Dean, just leave.” She said, leaning on the wall behind the mattress.

“Trust me, I would love to leave. But I am not going to until you feel better.”

“You might be here a long time.”

“Let the world go to waste.” he joked. She tried to smile but the tension in her muscles didn’t allow her to. “Listen, you cannot hunt if you are going to lash out like this.” He leaned on the door. “Why don’t you stay here for a while, recharge, get back to being a bitter bitch who stabs shapeshifters that look like me without blinking and then we’ll come and get you?”

She nodded. Not because she liked it or because she agreed, but because she knew she was not in any position to complain. Also she wanted him to leave her alone as soon as possible.

“Do I have to tuck you in?” He said. She looked at him and started to mess with the covers, angrily muttering something. “Good god, I am kidding,” he said, while walking towards her and actually helping her properly lay down. “...here.” He said, putting a water bottle on the floor next to the bed. “Alcohol didn’t work too well last time.” Emily had finally stopped shaking. She felt her body go back to its regular functions. Dean's face had also changed from last time she looked at him. He didn't look pissed anymore: instead, he looked apprehensive, almost caring. He stood there, leaning on the door, until she fell asleep.

When she woke up, however, she was all alone.

#spn fic #supernatural #sister!winchester #oc #dean winchester #sam winchester #oc!sister winchester #sister winchester fic #sister!readerxdean #sister!reader #be the young #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural angst #supernatural sister fic #spn #spn fanfic #ao3 #supernatural a03 fanfict #sister fic

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motownfiction · 2 years

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however big you think you are

When Sadie woke up this morning, it was just Thursday. The first of the month. The day she’d make rent if she didn’t still live in her childhood bedroom, didn’t commute to and from school like it’s a day job (because it sort of is one). But when she woke up, it was just Thursday. The day she has American History and Intro to Poetry. The day she’ll get her final essay back.

As she takes her seat in Intro to Poetry, she feels herself shaking at the knee. It doesn’t make much sense, even to Sadie herself. She’s been doing a good job in this class all semester. Great, even. The professor’s feedback on her papers has been nothing short of enthusiastic, nothing short of encouraging. There’s just something about a final essay that’s always scared the shit out of Sadie. Something about leaving a last impression. First impressions are tough, but at least you have a chance to come back from them. Last impressions are just that. They’re lasting. She inhales sharply when she remembers her terrible explication of “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” in eleventh grade. It didn’t look a damn thing like it was supposed to. It was the last thing she was supposed to write that year, and Mrs. Burczyk gave her a C on it. That’s how Mrs. Burczyk would always remember her. The girl who got a C, the girl who wasn’t good enough to earn anything better. That spring, Lucy gave birth to a whole baby, and even her explication of “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird,” which she was excused from completing, earned a better score. Since then, lasting impressions have been kind of a phobia for Sadie. A kind of reminder that no matter what she does, sometimes, she’ll disappoint people.

She’s not sure what part of it she cares about. It’s not the sense of achievement or specialness. That’s never meant much to her. Not like it does for Lucy or even Will. But there’s something about leaving a bad taste in someone’s mouth … that’s something Sadie could control if she had the power. If she had the power. It’s not a phrase she thinks about often – not a wish she commonly makes – and when she does, it makes her feel heavy. Like she wants to put it all back down.

The professor passes out the papers at the end of class. Sadie flips to the last page to see her score before she reads any of the scribbled ink in the margins. She sees some good and great on the way to the back, but it’s nothing to focus on. She needs to know about the last impression. And there it is, in red ink, Dr. Dennison’s last impression of Sadie Doyle.

100/100. Let’s talk in my office.

Slowly, Sadie lowers the paper back onto her desk and locks eyes with Dr. Dennison. She’s a short woman, maybe just five feet tall, with big glasses and bigger hair. In any other context, she wouldn’t be intimidating, but she reads Middle English, speaks fluent French, and got her Ph.D. from Harvard last year. As far as Sadie’s concerned, she’s the most terrifying woman who has ever lived.

Maybe the second-most terrifying.

“Come on, Sadie,” Dr. Dennison says, voice gruff from an adolescence of cigarette smoke. “You saw what I wrote. Let’s talk.”

Sadie follows Dr. Dennison up to her office on the third floor. It’s a little room stuffed to the brim with more books than Sadie would have thought those four walls could handle. She’s been in Lucy’s parents’ offices a handful of times before, but they didn’t feel like this one. Maybe it’s because she knows Mary and John, and Dr. Dennison is still Dr. Dennison. It’s just that something feels different. More real. More like some place where somebody like Sadie could actually belong.

Then again, it could just be the massive Purple Rain poster on the back of the door.

“Your paper was the best in the class,” Dr. Dennison says as she takes a seat behind her desk. “And I don’t give perfect scores lightly.”

“I didn’t think you would,” Sadie says, taking a seat in the student chair in front of her. “I know … I knew I’d been doing OK, but that score … it feels really nice.”

“It’s not just nice. It’s accurate. And you hadn’t just been doing ‘OK’ in our class. You earned the highest score on every paper I assigned. From January through May.”

Sadie’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. She’d always done well in English classes before, but then, she was lucky to score even in the vicinity of Lucy. She exhales, trying to make sense of everything she’s hearing … everything she’s feeling.

“Oh,” she finally says. “I … thank you.”

Dr. Dennison gives her a little smile like she knows more than she’s letting on. Professors are so like that.

“No need to thank me,” she says. “If anything, I should be thanking you. Your papers saved me from a lot of monotony. One of the biggest downsides to teaching an intro class.”

Sadie nods.

“I can imagine,” she says. “I’m taking Intro to Psych right now, and everybody else’s paper topics sound exactly the same.”

“What’s your paper topic?”

“Daydreaming. I want to see if it’s connected to diagnosable conditions. Narcissism, mainly, but I was open to more.”

Dr. Dennison gives that same smile again. Sadie feels like she might fall through the floor. There’s only one other person who smiles at her like that, and by all accounts, she should be the one in this room.

“That sounds great,” Dr. Dennison says. “But I have to tell you … I was very impressed by how rich your paper was for my class. Most students shy away from Adrienne Rich, but you … you really dove into the wreck, didn’t you?”

Sadie grins.

“It just really spoke to me,” she says. “I know that’s … I know that’s a cliché thing to say, but I just … I responded to it.”

“Good. That’s the first step. The second step is figuring out why you had the response.”

“Is there a third step?”

“The third step is criticizing your response, and the fourth step is writing it down. I think you’ve got steps one, two, and four down. The third one’s getting there.”

Sadie shrugs.

“Yeah, well, I guess it doesn’t really matter,” she says. “I’m not going to be an English major, so this is probably the last paper about poetry I’ll ever write.”

Dr. Dennison perfectly raises one of her eyebrows, like a cartoon character.

“That’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about,” she says. “I was wondering if you’d ever thought about being an English major.”

Sadie’s eyes get wide again, and it feels like the whole world is in soft focus. This shouldn’t be a big question. It’s just a normal question that professors ask because they love their subjects, and they want you to love them, too. But it just feels … wrong. Sadie had always done well in English classes, but she’d never done well enough to be mistaken for a major. And besides, it’s not her job. She’s not the one.

“I … haven’t,” she finally struggles through an answer. “I haven’t … I haven’t given much thought yet to what I want to major in at all.”

Dr. Dennison nods very carefully.

“Majoring in English can be an intimidating decision,” she says. “I know it took me a year to convince myself it was really what I wanted to do.”

Sadie nods, but she’s not really sure why … until she remembers.

“My best friend has always wanted to major in English,” she says. “She knew what she wanted before I even knew what a major was. And she’s brilliant. She goes to school here; you might know her. Lucy Callaghan?”

Dr. Dennison nods again.

“Lucy’s in my Medieval and Renaissance survey,” she says. “And you’re right. She is brilliant. The department’s lucky to have her.”

“So lucky.”

“But we’re not talking about Lucy majoring in English. We’re talking about you.”

Sadie feels an ugly blush creeping up on her cheeks. Why is she like this? Her professor calls her into her office to praise her for a job well done, to recruit her to one of the most interesting departments the university has to offer, and she just wants to talk about Lucy. What the hell is up with that? Doesn’t Sadie know herself? Doesn’t she want to talk about the things she wants to do?

Does she want to do anything?

She bites her lip and looks down at the carpet below her beat-up white tennis shoes. Somehow, they feel like a metaphor, but she isn’t sure what. Maybe that’s the reason she shouldn’t be an English major.

“I really never thought about it,” Sadie says. “It just seemed … English always seemed like Lucy’s thing. You know … I felt like I could be good at it, but it didn’t seem like … it didn’t seem like I should have control.”

Dr. Dennison shakes her head.

“I think that might be in your head,” she says. “But as for the rest of us … I think we’d be glad to hear the rest of the thoughts in your head. I think we’d be better for them.”

Sadie nods. She doesn’t know what else to do. She feels stuck in the middle of praise and betrayal, and yet, she can’t get up and leave.

She doesn’t want to.

“Can I take the summer to think about it?” Sadie asks.

Dr. Dennison smiles, still like she knows much more than she’ll ever let on. Sadie tries her best not to be annoyed with it all … not to be annoyed with herself for being so slow, so deliberate, so much on purpose.

“Of course,” Dr. Dennison says. “It’s not the kind of thing you can figure out right away.”

Sadie smiles a little and gets up to leave. Before she can cross the threshold of the door, Dr. Dennison’s voice stops her in her tracks again.

“Oh, and Sadie?” she says. “Figure out what you want to do about it. Not what you think anybody else thinks you should do about it.”

Sadie smiles and tacitly agrees. Anything to get herself out of the hot seat. Her whole body was beginning to burn and crisp. She thinks about Dr. Dennison’s words to make sure she’s doing what she wants to do. No influences. She takes a deep breath.

Maybe a little influence can’t hurt.

#drabble #writeblr #ch: sadie doyle #year: 1986 #series: first of may #been awhile!

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years

Text

The Writer (Tommy Shelby X Fem.Reader) - Part One

Warning - SMUT (eventually)

Request? Yes

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @heidimoreton

You looked in the mirror, straightening out your dress and taking a deep breath. Your boss David, who also happened to be your older brother, had arranged a meeting with you in the offices of the Birmingham Herald at 6pm sharp.

On the way there, you couldn't help but marvel at how you'd ended up here. Your husband had died two years after returning from war having suffered severe injuries, and after you'd taken on his job at the Herald while he was away fighting, falling ill on his return and subsequently dying, your brother, the editor, had kept you on so you weren't destitute. It was against all the principles of the time, a woman working, but your brother never once allowed the other men at the newspaper to talk down to you. You were the best storyteller and strongest journalist they had on the books and he would always have your back. The other men had grown to look at you as a sister almost - you were blessed to be in the position you were in.

Arriving at the Herald, you made your way to David's office.

"Y/n, I'm sorry to call you in this evening..." He smiled, embracing you and offering you a whiskey which you gladly accepted.

"I never have evening plans David, you know that. What was so important it couldn't wait til morning?"

"We've had an incredible offer and I want you to be the one to report it. The story is made for you."

"What is it?"

"Thomas Shelby has agreed to an article on his life to date!"

"Thomas Shelby? As in the Peaky Blinders?! Not a fucking chance David..." You recoiled in horror. You knew the man's history very well, you'd gone to school with his younger brother John and the stories of the Peaky Blinders were infamous. You hated the man - the thought of interviewing him mad your stomach turn.

"This story could launch your career into the big time Y/n! Think about it! The most secretive, elusive man in the country wants to tell his story to you!"

"To the Herald."

"No, y/n, to YOU. He asked for you. By name."

"How the hell does he know my name?" You'd written your articles under a male pen name so as not to distract readers from the content. Not all men were as modern as your brother and coworkers.

"No idea, but he specifically asked for you."

You mind turned - no one knew you worked at the Herald. You'd kept yourself to yourself, even moving out of Small Heath after your husband passed away. You'd lost touch with John just before he went off to war. There was no connection to the Shelby family at all.

"The reason I dragged you in at 6pm is because he wants to make a start today. This evening actually, there's a car picking you up in 30 minutes."

"David!! I can't do this interview for goodness sake, I'm not even close to prepared!"

"You have 30 minutes! Pull your finger out!" He laughed.

You'd crammed as much as possible in that 30 minutes as you could - your mind was whirring at 70miles per hour when the silver Bentley pulled up outside. Glaring at David, who simply smirked in response, you got in the car as the driver greeted you.

"Arrow House ma'am, won't take long to get there," the driver smiled as you asked him where he was taking you. Arrow House? His home? Why would the most secretive man in Birmingham want to meet you in his sanctuary?

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

Pulling up outside the huge mansion, you couldn't help but be impressed. The gardens were immaculate.

A middle aged lady greeted you at the front door and offered to take your coat. You smiled and handed it over, as she led you through to the dining room. You took the seat she offered.

"Would you like some tea Ms. Y/L/N?" You nodded, and she signalled one of the younger maids to action.

"Mr Shelby will be with you in a moment, please make yourself comfortable," the lady smiled warmly and headed out the door with your coat. You looked around the room. A large painting on one wall of the man himself with a large horse. There was a smaller picture on a cabinet just underneath that caught your eye. A beautiful blond woman, with piercing eyes and a loving smile, holding a small boy in her arms. You didn't know Thomas was married, let alone had a son. The house didn't seem to have much of a feminine feel to it though, it was borderline drab in its decor.

"My wife, Grace. And my son Charles." A voice behind you startled you, and you turned to see Thomas himself walking towards you, a glass of whiskey in one hand, a cigarette in the other.

"She's beautiful, Mr Shelby. And your son is adorable," you smiled, but he didn't return it.

"She certainly was." Your eyes grew wide as the realisation of what he'd said sunk in.

"Oh I'm sorry -"

"No need. It was a long time ago. Shall we get this over with Ms Y/L/N?" You nodded and he led you out of the dining room into a smaller one - clearly an office. The large oak desk sprawled out in front of the bay window. You took your seat opposite his at the desk and pulled out your pen and pad as he poured himself another whiskey. You shook your head when he offered you one, drinking the tea the young maid have brought in to you instead.

Your questions for him were simple at first. You asked about his childhood in Small Heath. His schooling. His childhood friends. Pretty much all one word answers, driving you insane, until you asked about his brothers.

"You knew John, didn't you?" He asked.

"Yes. Same year at school."

"Sadly, he's no longer with us. Shot by the Italians last year." You heart dropped - you heard through the grapevine that John had children and a wife and the news hit you like a freight train. You took a breath and a moment to compose yourself.

"I'm so sorry Mr Shelby..."

"I'm sorry too, I didn't realise you were so close?"

"We were close before the war. Lost touch after that."

"I don't remember seeing you with him?"

"My father wouldn't let me see him, so we had to be careful.."

"You and John were..."

"No no.. god no! Just friends Mr Shelby." He went quiet again, and sipped his whiskey.

Back to the questions. Mundane as they were, you needed them to get the full story. He wasn't forthcoming with the details. You had to really press him, but he spent most of his time drinking his whiskey and looking out of the window at the dark clouds rolling in outside.

"Listen, Mr Shelby, you clearly don't want this any more than I do so please, if you don't mind, I'd like to end the interview here." Your voice was stern, patience had officially gone out of the window he was so fixated with.

"Jack said you were feisty." You froze at mention of your late husband's name.

"How did you know Jack?"

"We served together in France. Good man."

"Is that how you knew my name?" He didn't answer, just nodded, again watching the weather changing quickly outside.

"Storm looks bad."

"If I leave now I should be fine." The first rumble of thunder made you jump, Tommy noticed your fear instantly.

"Scared of storms?"

"They used to scare Jack.." a second rumble had you grasping onto the chair.

"Stay until it passes." Was that a request or an order.. you weren't sure but he took your hand gently and led you into the hallway away from the window, into the main dining room again.

"Frances, have the curtains closed please." He spoke to the older woman who greeted you at the door and she dutifully obliged, closing the curtains in the large windows.

Tommy sat you at the table and gave you his glass of whiskey, your shaky hands accepting it this time. Every thunderstorm brought flashbacks of Jack's terror filled eyes.. his anguished cries of pain.. and ultimately the sound of the gun he placed at his temple before he took his own life. You took a sip of the warm liquid as Tommy sat beside you, a fresh glass of his own in his hand.

"Jack saved my life."

"He did?"

"Yes. We were underground digging.. we could hear the Germans on the other side of the dirt digging towards us... They broke through first and grabbed me. Jack beat them to death with his hammer to get them off me." Tommy's memory made you smile, and you laughed gently.

"He was always brave.. and strong. Put everyone else first. He never told me.."

"He never wanted praise, it was just part of his job. In return.. I said if anything happened to him I would make sure you were looked after."

"What?"

"The men at your office? They're under my watch. They respect you because you're a damn good writer, but they also know if they gave you any shit..." He raised his eyebrow and you couldn't help but smile. Even after his death, he was making sure you were okay. That was the Jack you wanted to remember.

"In that case Mr Shelby, I thank you."

"Call me Tommy eh? Here's to the bravest man in France." He clinked his glass with yours and you felt him almost begin to relax.

"I noticed a piano in the hall - do you play?"

"I did as a boy. My mother was a keen player, I used to watch her all the time. Gave it up after she died."

"I played for Jack all the time. It soothed him when he couldn't sleep." He smiled, a warm genuine smile that you couldn't help but return.

You'd spent the evening drinking whiskey and talking with Tommy, the whiskey hitting you much quicker than it did him, and you could feel your eyelids growing heavier.

"I have a spare room upstairs y/n, maybe stay tonight, I'll have my driver take you home in the morning." He stood before you had chance to argue and you followed him up the stairs.

He led you into a beautiful bedroom, the decor in here much more appealing than downstairs and the large oak double bed even more so.

"I don't want to impose Thomas..."

"That storm isn't letting up any time soon, and you're exhausted. You're welcome to stay. There's fresh clothes in the wardrobe. My wife was the same build as you, they should fit. I'll have my driver take you home at 7am. Goodnight Y/n..." His blue eyes lingered on yours a moment and you felt a rush of something you hadn't felt in a long time... Scaring you. Quickly looking away, you bid him goodnight.

#tommy shelby x smut #tommy x fem!reader #tommy x y/n #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x smut

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angellissy · 3 years

Note

Hey :) I’ve never requested anything before so I’m sorry if i do it wrong hahah

But could I request something where instead of ward faking his death it’s rafe who has to do it and none of the pouges know about your relationship until it’s you crying in the dock instead of Sarah. And when you and the piggies go on the “rescue” mission to get Sarah off of the boat you see rafe and eventually end up staying with him and leaving your friends

I’m sorry if this is really long xx thank you for taking the time to read my request

R E A C H I N G F O R T H E S U R F A C E

SEASON TWO SPOILERS!

rafe Cameron x Reader

warnings: angst with a big a, canon rafe (maybe a bit softer), toxic relationship, rafe playing the victim card, death and talks of suicide.

a/n: I feel like it is of importance that I tell you all that I have done everything in my power not to romanticize the rafe cameron character and if I have then please kindly let me know because sometimes it can be hard. However I still need to say that I am writing through the eyes of the “reader” who very much still cares for this boy, which also means that the way the reader deals with things might not have been your way. If any more warnings should be included in the beginning, feel free to let me know. I hope you enjoy this fic which I am actually very proud of. A big thanks to @snkkat who is my proof reading buddy. Also thanks for sending in the request, I LOVED writing it! <3

They say that when you die your life flashes before your eyes, but how about when you watch someone else die? For as you watched him die, the life and moments the two of you had shared flashed before your eyes like a string of reminders of a life and love lost. It felt as if there was no air for you to breathe, you weren’t even sure how long it had been since you managed to take a full breath. Your mind was running in circles, trying to grasp what had just occurred, replaying the scene over and over again until you were not even sure what reality you were in. With a hammering heart and a split soul, you were kneeling on the dock, just minutes after watching your first love take his own life. You could not even remember how you had gotten out here in the first place, you just wished that you would have stayed behind as all your friends rushed toward a disaster in waiting. Perhaps that would have spared you some of the heartbreak, spared you from hearing him scream that he loved you one last time, spared you from seeing his boat go up in flames. But no, you were sure that for as long as you lived, you would see that blazing inferno whenever you closed your eyes.

There were arms around you, an attempt to soothe your shaking body, it only made you feel more trapped in a memory you would never escape. Those arms lifted you up and suddenly you were walking, mixed in all the anger and sadness there was a surprise that your body was even able to function. It felt as if you were outside of your body watching everything occur, you watched as Kiara and JJ helped you sit down on a sofa and as they draped a blanket over your shoulders. You watched it unfold, but you couldn’t feel it and there was no way that you would be able to respond to their worried questions. Instead, you were stuck in a mind that replayed everything Rafe had ever said or done to you as if that somehow could manifest him back to life. That stuck-up boy with the golden hair had been your first boyfriend, complicated as the relationship may have been, it had been the first time you ever experienced something close to love. Just days ago you had stood before him, tears in your eyes and heart in your throat as you called the relationship off. For a very long time, he had not been the boy you fell for, but rather a ghost of who he once was. Where he had once been sweet and tender with you, there had only been cold stares and words sharp enough to cut through ice. You were not oblivious to the fact that he struggled with issues you could never comprehend, but you refused to be an accomplice in his undoing. Time after time you had tried to be the person he could cling to when the world sat heavily upon his shoulders, but you soon realized that love and affection could not solve all problems. Oh, and you had loved him so much that you would have done anything for him to smile at you the way he had when he uttered those big three words for the first time. He had watched you with eyes that held so much adoration that you thought that they would never dim, that they would shine brighter for each time his eyes found yours. But eventually, they had dulled, and so you had realized that you would not sacrifice yourself no matter how much you cared for him. It did not matter that you had called things off with him or that you had decided to leave him in order to save yourself, for the knowledge that he was actually gone made it feel like someone was clawing at your heart and trying to rip it apart. It felt like no time in the world would be able to heal the pain in your chest or dry the tears falling from your eyes.

Time was indeed a funny thing, how seconds turned into minutes and how then those minutes became hours. Hours that you spent reminiscing over a life you thought you had given up before it was lost forever. You clung to the memories of him as if they were the lifebuoy keeping an anchor from pulling you down in a sea made up of your own sorrow. You knew that you were staying in your own made-up memories of a relationship with more bad times than good, but a part of you felt that you could not grieve the person he had become. For he had been vile and horrid, and if you acknowledged that, you would feel guilty for the sadness overwhelming you. So yes, you stayed in your made-up reality and wept for the boy that could have been. As hours turned into days, your friends made every effort to comfort you and try to get you out of the room that had become your place of mourning. Their tries aggravated you, for they did not understand the feelings rushing through your body at such speed it made you lightheaded. Each one of them had hated Rafe Cameron with at least one bone in their body and you knew how some of them had looked the day he died as if they were content that he was finally gone. Relieved that he could no longer plague them with taunts and threats that might have become reality was it not for his passing. You might have understood this, had it not been for the grief and guilt plaguing every bone in your body.

As days turned into weeks, you eventually came to appreciate their efforts to help you. It was like your vision was starting to clear and you could finally start trying to live your life again, and the first step to doing that was always to surround yourself with people that made you roar with laughter. Their ventures to try and find the Cross of Santo Domingo, were helpful, to say the least. Those adventures were as distracting as they were terrifying since the outcome was never given. Your mixed friend group of pogues and kooks had actually found that damn cross as well. Who would have thought that a bunch of high school kids would be able to find a historic relic? The answer would have been no one, and that is why you don’t underestimate kids with no limits. The cross had been in your grasp until a greedy and manipulative Ward Cameron came along and grabbed it. Ever since that particular happening, things started going south fast and it all ended up with Sarah being kidnapped by her own guardians. It also ended up with the rest of you stowed away like cargo on the ship she was on. While John B and Pope carried out their plan to find Sarah and the famous cross, you, JJ, and Kie sweated from every pore as you waited to hear from them. You had zoned out, staring mindlessly into one of the walls of the container, in the background you could hear your two friends talk about their dreams for the future. Something about going on several surfing trips at various destinations with each other, and that part made your heart ache. Sure, after everything he had done, a future with Rafe had not been one of your dreams. Still, as you listened to your friends talk, you could only remember a time where he had been everything you wanted in life. You pressed your palms upon your face as if you somehow could force every memory of him to remain in that little part of your brain where you were hoping they would become forgotten. A loud clank dragged you out of your thoughts and you looked up just in time to see Pope and John B climb in through that small window opening, followed by a woman you had never ever seen. Shortly after that, problems started to arise and soon all of you were scrambling out of the container in hopes of not being detected by the workers on the boat. They were in obvious search of all of you, which made you sweat even more than you had done inside the container. All of you received different plans on how to tackle the situation, yours was to act as a lookout for John B as he searched for Sarah.

You followed him down to what you could only assume was the boiler room since steam was thick in the air and you took your place by the door as he ventured further down. His desperate cries for Sarah echoed through the room and you dearly wished for a response to be heard, but there was nothing except the sound of his shoes against the floor. Thump, thump, thump and then utter silence until John B utters a name that made it feel as if the floor was pulled away from under your feet.

“Rafe.”

One of your hands finds the doorframe, a poor attempt to steady yourself as you try to figure out if this is a trick played by your grieving mind. You take a few breaths and as the silence is once again interrupted by two raised voices, you follow John B’s path down into the room. The heart in your chest is beating so hard that it feels like you are going to throw up, and it only gets worse the nearer you come. At first, you only see your friend, but then you look past him

and

your

heart

stops.

Rafe Cameron had died in front of your very eyes, so either the gods were playing a nasty cruel joke or you had lost the battle with your mind. You shut your eyes just to open them again, and no matter how many times you did it, he still remained. What happened next was a bit peculiar to you, for weeks you had drowned in grief where sadness was the constant emotion, but as you looked him in the eye and saw that he was very much alive, rage and anger crushed into you with the force of a thousand waves. You stepped toward him, only for an arm to shoot out to stop you, and John B added to his gesture by saying “Don’t”. Laughter bubbled in your throat, for who was he to tell you what you could or could not say to your “dead” ex-boyfriend who seemed to never stop causing you grief.

“Find Sarah.” John B hesitated for a few moments before following your unspoken order to leave you and Rafe alone. It wasn’t surprising considering that his worry for Sarah would always overpower anything else. Once again you looked into Rafe’s blue eyes, remembering a time when you used to stare in them for so long you would see specks of green and grey. Had you searched for those colors now, you would probably have found them. However, you were trying to decipher whatever feeling that was shining in them, was it anger? No, his other features were too soft for that and the hand holding his weapon had gone slack as he watched you. Maybe it was relief? No that was not it either, for why would he be relieved to see you? You were not the one who had died and left the other behind. You stepped even closer to him, the simmering anger inside of your veins made your hands shake and he looked at them briefly as if he wanted to take them in his. Your hands clenched into fists and you watched as his shoulders dropped the tiniest bit, and suddenly you knew exactly what was shining in his eyes.

Love, and sadness. Your heart started to speed up again, and you knew that once you opened your mouth, the anger and grief that had become part of you, would tumble out in words that you would never be able to take back. But he had done something much worse, so he would listen, you would make sure of it. Your lips parted slightly and he must have seen it for his words came first.

“I- fuck I am sorry okay? But I had to do it, you wouldn’t understand but I had to do it, it was the best for everyone.” As he says this you can’t help the sound that slips through your lips, it was supposed to be a laugh but it sounds more like a sob. His eyes flicker between you and everything else in the room as if there was anything in here that could save him for this conversation. You move your hands toward your chest and his eyes watch as you press them hard against your chest, against the heart that won’t stop breaking.

“Best for everyone?” Your voice is the combination of a whisper and a ragged breath “Did you have my best interest in mind when you let me believe you had blown yourself up?” He winces and makes an attempt to say something but you hold up a hand to stop him. “Did it ever occur to you how your little stunt would affect the one person who still, despite everything, loved you?” This time, your voice has started to rise towards something like a scream, and how could you not scream when there is so much sadness inside of you that it felt like just looking at him would turn your body into a pool of water.

“You broke up with me, so don’t start acting like a victim where you aren’t one.” His features are starting to morph into those he carries when anger overcomes him, but you will not back away from this. Your hands are in your hair, pulling at it as if that would help you make sense of this situation. “You broke my heart long before I broke yours.” You can’t help the way your voice breaks or the tears that start falling from your eyes.“You needed and still need help and until you receive that help, you are prone to hurt anyone in your vicinity.” Now it is his turn to drag his hands through his hair and his breaths come faster and faster until you realize that he is starting to hyperventilate. He sinks to the floor and you follow, not sure how to help when it feels like his state is mirroring your own. With cautious movements, you place your hands on his shoulders, and the shaking of his body sends trembles throughout yours. For a while nothing happens, you just sit there with your hands on his body and watch him fall apart. Perhaps you should have been glad that he was suffering, after everything he had done to you he deserved it. But you couldn’t feel anything other than anguish and as a sob escaped his body every restraint you had kept on yourself broke and you hugged him towards your chest. You could never save him, but he clung to you as if you had the power to undo every wrong he had ever done. After a while, he looks up at your tear-streaked face and one of his hands reaches up to cup it. You want to look away because you can see everything in those eyes of his, every regret and every wish he has ever had. His forehead leans towards you and you feel his hot breath against your skin. As you breathe in the scent of cologne and feel his skin against yours, you feel overwhelmed by the fact that he is actually here. You notice that his lips part and for a second you are scared that he is going to kiss you, but he must know that there is a limit to your patience with him so he just whispers words with the promise of what could have been. “I wanted to be good for you.” A small smile takes place on your lips and you close your eyes as you try to restrain the well of emotions inside of you. “I know Rafe, I know.” He breathes out a little, almost as if he is relieved that you are aware that he tried in a world and with a mind constantly working against him. You knew, but you also knew that there was someone else out there for you. Someone who would love you in a way that Rafe would never be able to, in a way that would not send the two of you to the bottom of the ocean. Whoever was out there would make you swim. For so long you had wanted to believe that Rafe was the one, despite all his flaws you would have given anything for him to be your future. It was a relief to know that you could and deserved to have more. But you also knew that you needed to do something before that could happen.

“I will stay-.” Before you could even finish your sentence he whipped his head up to look at you with such hope you never wanted to continue talking. You swallowed hard and forced yourself to go on. “I will stay with you just to make sure you receive the help you need.” His whole body deflated and you had to bite your lip in order not to cry again. Eventually, he nodded and you closed your eyes in relief. You knew that this had to be the right move, no one else would listen to him or make sure he got help, so you needed to be the one to did. Just enough so that you finally could start swimming towards the surface.

#rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron headcanon #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x you #drew starkey #outer banks x reader #outer banks #outer banks season 2 #outer banks imagine #obx #obx season 2 #obx spoilers #obx fanfiction

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omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts · 3 years

Text

A Siren Song

Pairing: Robert Dubois/ Bloodsport x Reader

A/N: so I just finished watching the new Suicide Squad for the second time and I’m even more obsessed now than I was the first time I watched it. It’s a brilliant film with actually good humor, a non-sexualizing and actually empowering view on Harley Quinn (that leg scene?? y'all-), the rats?? Rat-catcher 2?? THE SHARK?? FLAG?? Who looked really good in this movie, he might be another contender for a story as well as Harley Quinn so lmk ;) but Bloodsport immediately piqued my interest because it’s Idris Elba and he’s gorgeous, I loved the complexities of his character and I want to write for him and no one else has done it yet?? so shoutout to @honey-im-emotional for the support and push to do it! also love The Bodyguard movie, helped with the inspo <3 and i’m so sorry all of my stories are similar but I HAVE A TYPE enjoy and feedback is always appreciated loves and there will be SPOILERS so be warned, also if you want a Harley one next lmk ;) (it’s so long I’m so sorry lol)

Summary: You’re a highly targeted member of the royal family, the last in your line. Bloodsport is hired to be your bodyguard to both watch and assassinate the men after you. He believes it’s below his pay-grade, but reluctantly agrees, doing so to the best of his abilities. But the closeness brings more intimacy than you two expected, and sparks fly.

Warnings: foul language, sexual content, smut, choking, light bdsm, fluffy fluff, dirty dancing, dirty talk, violence and bad guys getting murdered, mentions of Harley x Reader (y’all sexy dance and kiss), reader likes women, dom! Bloodsport, age gap, alcohol consumption, jealousy, heavy kissing, slight angst, just a good time honestly

Word Count: 3,825

You dangle from the ceiling with your aerial silk, fitting your leg in the loop you’ve created, and dangling upside down. The rope wraps around your waist as you hang gracefully from your marble walls, flying. Your friend Harley Quinn taught you how to do this years ago, it now being your favorite form of exercise and relaxation when you need a moment to clear your head.

As you lightly spin, twirling and dancing in the air with your chandelier reflecting light everywhere, a dazzling fairy floating in a sea of stars. You hear footsteps approach and move to hang upside down, facing towards the grand door. Robert Dubois, a.k.a Bloodsport, walks forward to stand directly in front of you.

You have known him a few weeks or so now, him having to watch your every move and tracking down your family’s killers. He stands and meets your eyes as you dangle, hair falling below you.

“Hi,” you giggle, face flushed with heat. “I probably look ridiculous right now.”

He composes himself so he doesn’t crack a smile, but you see his lips twitch when he speaks, “No, Mrs. y/l/n.”

“I have a first name, you know,” you grin widely. “I’m younger than you, which hardly warrants such a professional title.”

“My apologies, y/n,” he fixes himself.

“It’s alright,” you ease, filling him with a sense of softness he hasn’t felt in a long time. You flip and land on your feet, letting go of your silks.

You don’t notice as his eyes glaze over your body in your sports bra and shorts, something his cold, calculated stare should never succumb to, but he does anyway and he kicks himself for doing it. You’re his client and should therefore remain as such, no conflict of interest or thoughts other than to protect. He didn’t want this job, hell, he still doesn’t know why he said yes. Maybe it was the money. Or maybe it was upon seeing you that first time, in that star-studded gown the night of a charity gala you were attending, the way the diamond littered fabric hung over your figure, absolutely dazzled. The way you looked at him and smiled, like you were used to with all the other nobles and adoring fans. But he let himself believe it was different.

He can’t do that anymore, however, because he can’t allow for any complications. And falling for his boss is certainly a complication.

You look at him and your eyes widen with realization, “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me cover up.”

You grab a tee shirt and toss it over your exercise clothes. He looks down as you do so and clears his throat. This brings a small smile to your face.

“You called me in here,” he gestures to the necklace charm hanging around your neck that you can squeeze and send an instant distress signal whenever you need it. “What can I do for you, y/n?”

“Wanted you to spot me,” you tease, a smile overtaking your delicate features. You have a sort of stunning beauty about you that takes him by surprise every time he lays eyes on you. Which is often. You lay on your yoga mat and sit up straight with that same damned smile.

“I’m here to do a job, y/n,” he says, his deep, honeyed voice coating the way he says your name like heat to sugar. “Not aid you in your workout routine.”

“What? Your assassin training didn’t include sit ups?” you smile, tongue in cheek.

“No, but if you need a way to kill a man with a book,” he presses a foot over both of yours as you begin to do sit ups. “Then I’m your man.”

“Yeah, you and John Wick,” you breathe out with a laugh. “And shouldn’t you be in here watching me already? Not by the door?”

“This room has no windows and no other door or entrance besides the one I was standing by. I thought you would want privacy,” he averts your gaze. “I’m sure it’s a hard thing to come by these days for a woman like yourself.”

You stop what you’re doing and look up at him, blinking, “Well, you’d be right,” you tuck your hair back. “So thank you.”

He meets your eyes, bordering on a smile, “You’re welcome.”

“Is that a smile I see?” you chuckle.

The smile shines, “It was a diversion. And you failed.”

You laugh loudly, “Will the next diversion be an actual laugh?”

“Wouldn’t be a proper diversion if you knew what it was.”

You tap his feet so he’ll get the hint and let you up. You rise to your feet and dust yourself up, “I appreciate your spotting.” You press a hand to his chest and hum. Warmth radiates from your palm and he inhales sharply. “For someone who wasn’t trained, you sure are a fast learner.”

He looks at your hand and back to your eyes, heat sprouting from where your hand touches. His hand flexes at his side as he looks around the room, to the door, seeing if it’s closed.

“I-” he cocks an eyebrow then settles. “I think I should go.”

He watches you look at him with wounded eyes, brow lowered, you open your mouth then close it.

You nod, moving away from him, “Right.”

You move to walk away when he stops you, mouth by your ear, voice dropping an octave when he whispers, “Just so you know-” you tilt your head up almost instinctively to hear him better. “-my assassin training did include reminding people who they are when they’ve forgotten their place.”

You look up at him fully now, “You work for me, remember?”

“I work for money. And you didn’t hire me. I was employed by Mrs. Waller to keep you alive,” he cocks his head slightly.

“So it would be frowned upon by her when you’re unable to walk if you touch me like that again.”

You couldn’t believe he had just said that. Your eyes widen and your cheeks once again heat up, blushing. Your chest gets hot when he doesn’t break the stare like he’s calling your bluff, and fuck, did he do just that. You turn away from him.

You can hear the smile in his voice, “That’s what I thought.”

~~~

“Robert said that!?” Harley exclaims, eyes wide. Her jaw is dropped as she does her mascara aggressively in the mirror. “He’s usually so...”

You tug down your tiny halter top over your head, your bright, flattering makeup complementing the colorful swirling pattern, “An empty void with no emotion?”

She nods emphatically, agreeing, “Exactly! I had no idea he had it in him?” she raises her brow and smooths down her leather black and red dress, “Or that he wanted to put it in you-”

You slap her arm, chastising, “You don’t know that. It might have been a threat to actually paralyze me in a very not sexual way.”

“I say both are arousing,” she shrugs, platinum curls bouncing.

You roll your eyes with a small smile aimed at the floor, “Anyway-” you slip a belt through your tight jeans, hitting at your waist when you cinch it in. “We should get going if we want to get to the club on time.”

She pauses. “Y/n. Are you sure we should be doing this?”

You do a double take, “You’re telling me that we shouldn’t sneak out and have a good time?”

“I know the irony is apparent,” she looks at you with a knowing stare. “But not if it means you’re in danger. Which you are.”

“I know,” you frown. “But I’ve been locked in this house for months, I miss going out and having a life. I’m tired of being coddled.”

“I know, sweetheart,” she sighs, looking past herself in the mirror to flash me a sympathetic smile. She thinks for a beat and finally spins around, “Alright, screw it, doll, let’s go paint the town.”

You buzz with excitement, grinning, “Yay! Thank you, thank you! I wonder who will be djaying...” you trail off.

Harley’s face falls and her mouth goes in a solid, straight line, looking past your shoulder, “I don’t think anyone will be.”

You laugh, completely oblivious, “Of course there will be. There has to be music. Dancing in silence would be pretty fucking awkward.”

“This moment is pretty fucking awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

A deep, irritated voice sounds off behind you, “Because you’re not going.”

You jump out of your skin, “Shit, Robert! You scared the hell out of me!”

“You’re not going to that club,” he folds his arms over his chest. You look over him and his casual, night wear: a loose tee and low hanging joggers. You almost wipe your mouth from salivating. Your outfit elicits the same reaction.

You pinch your eyebrows together, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I can. I’m tasked with protecting you.”

“Yeah. And nowhere on your job description does it say ‘become my parent’. There’s not an opening now just because I don’t have one. I am a grown ass woman and I have been a prisoner in my own home. The same home where...” you pause, a lump in your throat at the reminder of your family’s passing. You shake it off, “I’m just tired. I want a piece of my life back. You can either stay here or come. Either way I’m going.”

He gives you a quick once over and contemplates his options before dropping his arms to his sides and letting out a long exhale.

“Fine.”

You somewhat relax at his defeated tone, “Fine, what?”

He relents, “You can go, but I’m coming with you. But if anything happens to you, I’m not to be blamed. I will leave your ass in that club.”

You grin and jump up to give him a tight hug around the neck. He stiffens before slowly rubbing your back. You sink into his embrace, feeling like you were floating in water, now above the surface as he brings you back to oxygen. Harley smiles at the exchange and she winks theatrically.

He glares.

It’s not long before you three arrive at the club, music blaring and colorful lights flashing over the crowded floors. From his stare and intimidating aura, the club staff thought he was a bouncer and let you all in immediately. But before he was roped into working, the three of you bee-lined to the bar.

“The prettiest and strongest drink ya got, sugar,” Harley smiles at the pretty bartender.

“And what if that’s me?” she responds, ebony hair falling onto one shoulder.

“Then I’ll have to drink you later,” Harley gives her a flirty once over and you roll your eyes.

The bartender grins and gestures towards me for my order, I answer quickly, “Scotch on the rocks.”

Robert looks at you, poorly covering his shocked expression. “Really?”

“Yeah, why?” you look up at him.

“Didn’t peg you for a straight liquor type, Ms. y/l/n,” he finally lets his hidden laugh show through, butterflies erupting in your chest. The diversion definitely worked, whatever you were thinking about before this has immediately left you.

“Then this is going to be the first surprise of many tonight, Mr. Dubois,” you return the smug look as he orders the same thing. You both share a look.

The bartender slides you all your drinks, each of you taking a long swig for liquid courage for the night. Harley’s favorite Doja Cat song comes on and she gasps, clapping excitedly when she grabs you by the wrist, pulling you on the dance floor, “Come dance with me.”

You mouth a small ‘sorry’ to Bloodsport who you left at the bar, he shakes his head with a smile over the rim of his glass, watching you guys’ drinks.

She dances wildly, jumping up and down, spinning to let her hair fall in many beautiful angles. She’s a powerful force and your greatest friend. She puts her arms around your neck and the two of you move in time with the music.

“So...” she motions to Bloodsport who’s being forced into a conversation with a woman at the bar. The woman puts her hand on his and he visibly shrinks back and whispers something to her that causes the most horrid look from the woman and for her to walk quickly away. You smile at the relief that interaction has brought you.

“So what?” you spin her around and pull her back.

“Quit with the good dancing, or I’m gonna fuck you myself,” she teases with a lightheaded giggle.

You smile, “We’ve tried that already, remember?”

“Too much history, I know, I know. Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice...” she whispers into your neck, kissing the soft spot under your chin. Your skin heats up under her touch as she drags her hands down your sides, pulling you close to her so that you’re flush against her chest.

You give into her and kiss her slowly, her soft lips melt into your own when her hands tug in your hair. Harley and you have always had a complicated friendship, with enough sexual attraction to fuel a nuclear bomb, but not enough romantic. You love each other but not in the way you both need. You were in love with Robert and she is continuing to explore her sexuality because she likes women and so do you. So as she trails her hot mouth down your neck in the middle of dozens of bustling bodies and you lock eyes with an angry Bloodsport, you knew exactly what she was doing.

You whisper, out of breath, “Are you trying the jealousy trick?”

“It worked in college, didn’t it?” she kisses your cheek, smiling gently against your skin. “And it’s working now.”

“I think you’re just obsessed with kissing me,” you kiss her back.

“It was a win-win situation, doll,” she grins devilishly and you can’t help but agree. “So when you’re done with him, come see me. But right now, I have a sexy bartender lady to drink up.” You grip her hand and let her make her way to her next conquest.

Robert had seen the tail-end of your kiss, his deft fingers clenched around his whiskey glass. He knows he shouldn’t let this sort of thing affect him, something as juvenile and simple as jealousy. But he couldn’t stop that feeling of being stuck, unable to think about anything except the fact that it wasn’t him with his hands on you like that, lips marking you as much as he pleases. Sadness washed over him in a tidal wave and he set his glass down, about to get up to leave when he spotted a man eyeing you from the door. He looked familiar and it wasn’t just attraction he sensed in his eyes but something far more sinister.

A few more men followed suit and began making their way to you in the middle of the dance floor. He had no time to consider the facts, just to get you out of there as soon as possible.

You feel a rough hand tug your arm and turn to face who you think to be Dubois, you smile, “Enjoy the show?”

“Very much,” an unknown voice answers, and you look up, eyes wide. “Now why don’t you come with me for a little talk, beautiful.”

“Get the fuck off of me,” you yank your arm back, slamming your heel down into the perpetrator’s foot. More men surround you on all sides, making it impossible for you to escape or use your subpar martial arts skills. Aerial yoga was a very different ballpark than kicking ass. And you were just a beginner.

You poorly punch a man in the face, only making them all angrier when you’re grabbed from all sides, being dragged towards the exit kicking and screaming. You didn’t want to be that helpless damsel in distress, but as all of these men, men you recognized from your family’s death, were surrounding you, you couldn’t breathe. Their hands felt familiar, grabbing your arms like they’d done that night before you hid in the secret door in the dining room. You had watched these faceless men through a hole in that door, stifling your cries when bullets sprayed the room your family was having dinner in. So while they were coming after you and pulling you outside, it’s all you felt. That same feeling when he wasn’t near.

Drowning.

There’s a hand that pulls you back and you watch, dazed, as Bloodsport puts every man who touched you on the ground. It’s filled with swift yet aggressive and barbaric movements, controlled, expert chaos and it happens within moments. His chest is heaving when he looks down at you and scoops you up in his arms. You’d object in any other circumstances, but this time, head against his chest and tucked in his arms, you were okay.

His voice rumbles against your side, “We’re going home.”

~~~

Harley’s tears hit your shoulder as you sympathetically pat her back.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I shouldn’t have left,” she sniffles loudly. “I should’ve been there.”

You laugh softly, fitting your head into her shoulder, “It’s okay, Harls. It’s not your fault, there was no harm done.”

“There could have been,” she sighs. “I’m not letting you convince me to go out next time, you’re staying here forever.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, “Alright.”

She gets up and sniffs, wiping at her nose that’s now flushed from crying, “Good because I’m serious.”

“I know,” you laugh again, hugging yourself in a hoodie much too large for you, (because you stole it from Rick Flagg) swallowing you whole.

Your eyes wander down the hall to where Robert is no doubt pacing around in your bedroom, the only room not laden with cameras (ironically for privacy). You kick at the floor in your fuzzy socks and think of an excuse to go check on him, even though you’re probably the last person he wants to see right now. You, frankly, don’t care.

“I’m gonna go-”

“Check on Robert?” she finishes. “I know, honey. I was a psychiatrist, I’m not stupid.”

You crack a smile and grip her arm affectionately as you walk past her towards the bedroom. You don’t even take the risk of knocking for fear he’ll lock it and try your luck with just simply opening it. You see him, shirtless with a towel over his shoulder, a low hanging towel wrapped around his waist, while nursing his knuckles. He looks you over once you enter the room, trained eyes on you and the intimidation is definitely working already when he takes the damp towel on his shoulder and dabs the cuts on his skin.

He remains silent and you move to sit down on your bed, the awkward squeak filling the already high-tension atmosphere, thick enough to make your ears pop like you’re in an airplane too far up in the sky.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, drawing his eye.

He hums and steps into your bathroom, washing off his hands.

You frown at his lack of response, “Are you really going to pout this whole time? Because honestly, it’s beneath you, Robert.” You lean forward, watching as he walks out of the bathroom, still half naked, still silent.

The silence is beginning to slowly kill you, especially when he looks this good, water droplets running down his chiseled torso from a hot shower. You didn’t let your mind wander because if the reaction your body is giving from the image before you was any indication, you want him. He walks in the room once again, mouth in an amused yet firm line.

In actuality, he was ashamed of himself. Not so much of you. He would’ve left as that despair overcame him back in that bar. He would’ve left you there and abandoned his mission, leaving you to be hurt. If it hadn't been for those men, you could’ve been killed and it would be his fault. He alerted Waller of the attack, making up a lie about the two of you going for a walk at night and getting ambushed there rather than at a club. There’s a hit on each of those men being taken out as we speak as well as a search for their boss. Even though that still got him chewed out. He couldn’t imagine what she’d do to him if she found out the truth.

Robert walks slowly towards you, leaning against the bed frame, gesturing for you to continue. You watch him, distracted, as he wraps a bandage around his knuckles.

“I shouldn’t have kissed her to get a rise out of you, that was hurtful,” you exhale your words, quiet enough he wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t within a breath of one another. You hang your head, “And it was stupid to go out in the first place when I am in this much danger. I could’ve been killed, and you could have been hurt. I’m sorry.”

He represses a laugh at the idea of him getting hurt, when the two of you both know that would never happen. But as the silence from him grows thicker, the more you start to ramble.

“Okay, this silent treatment isn’t going to work for much longer. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you need to stop.”

He gives you a look that says ‘make me’. But you both know you couldn’t if you tried, and vice versa. He thinks of you as a siren, one of those alluring creatures in old sailor tales that lured unsuspecting men to their painful deaths. As if he has no control of the way he feels about you. Which in a way he does, but he knows better. He knows better than to fall under your enchanting song, but he can’t help but be pulled beneath the surface of the water.

Robert tenses when you move forward and the hoodie falls off one of your shoulders, revealing more of your chest, the smooth skin that lays there.

His chest tightens when you look up at him and sigh.

“But thank you for saving me,” you say, both because you think that’s what he wants to hear but also because you mean it, you wouldn’t be here at all if he didn’t come with you.

He licks his lips and nods his head in simple recognition. He appreciated the apology, truly he did, but a part of him enjoyed the way you continued to ramble on, so he remained silent. This was an old interrogation tactic he learned when he served, keeping quiet always got people talking. He looks down at you and leans to meet your face, hands on either side of you.

“I don’t know what else you wish for me to say,” you admit quietly, fiddling with your hands.

He didn’t know either but whatever you would say, he would listen.

“So I take it you’re not mad anymore?” you infer from his relaxed posture, heart beating out of your chest, fast enough that it catapults to your throat.

He tilts his head down so he’s an inch before your mouth, breath fanning over your face. when he tugs you up to your feet, hands gripping the sides of your waist when he pulls you close. Your heartbeats began to sync up, chest to chest.

“I’m fucking furious, sweetheart.”

You meet his eyes, looking up in that seductive stare of yours you never knew you were capable of until him, and close the distance, kissing him lightly. His arms falter by your side and it’s the first time you’ve seen him hesitate, losing his cool. It’s the most gentle thing he’s ever experienced, everything in his life being forced, hostile, and malicious, while your soft lips against his are anything but. You kiss him like he’s not the monster he thinks himself to be.

“Then let me make it up to you.”

“Fuck,” he grips your sides harder, palm moving to push you closer with his hand flat against the small of your back. “We shouldn’t.”

You search his face for uncertainty, but all you sense is a profound sense of clarity, in the both of you. “I know.”

“Will you regret this?”

You shake your head, hand against his cheek, “No.”

His dark eyes fall to your lips, pupils filling his dark brown irises, lust blown, “You’re so good, baby. You’re too good for me.”

Before you can tease him about the new nickname and object to that, his lips have crashed against your own. His hand slides up to cup the side of your face, drinking you in with his intoxicating kiss. You hum, content, against his feverish mouth and he opens it, vulnerable and on display. You feel his guard still up, tense and calculated, so you rest your hand against his chest. You press a kiss to his eyelid, his cheek, his nose, his chin, his jaw, his neck. He softens beneath you, groaning aloud as his hands tighten.

“You don’t need to be afraid with me,” you whisper to him, tender fingers trailing down his shirtless chest, hot skin against hot skin. It’s enough to make you sweat.

He exhales and captures your bottom lip with his own, holding your face in both of his hands. The kiss grows heated and rushed, like you’re running out of time, as if at any moment those men would come back and find you and take you away from him again. His tongue expertly works with your own, licking the pout of your bottom lip, and coaxing you open. He slides his hand down between your legs, dipping his finger to find the slick in the middle of your thighs. You moan into his mouth, his other hand at the back of your neck when he buries his face in your shoulder. He kisses you there, the crook where your neck meets your collarbone, that damned sensitive spot. You succumb to his touch. His beard tickles your skin and you gasp when he sucks hard, a bruise forming.

You breathe a laugh, “Everyone will see if you leave a mark,” you tug on his hair when you thread it through his coarse curls.

He falls under your spell and there’s something so ironically beautiful about this trained assassin with a heart of gold and the scars to show for it, being so open with you.

His hands, his entire life, have been forced to be instruments of death and violence. But as they slide down your figure, holding your face, and pulling you into him, they’re his greatest gift. He’s surprisingly tender with you.

But then he has enough and pushes you down on the bed, arms trapping you on both sides.

He responds bluntly, “I don’t care.”

You part your legs for him and he releases a shaky breath. He slowly unzips your sweatshirt and it falls off you just as you do the same and tug his towel down. Both of you are bare before the other as you take a moment to drink each other in. You were just as, if not more, beautiful than he imagined you to be.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly as his hand drapes down the line of your figure. He touches you how someone would handle a glass vase filled with flowers.

You take his face in both of your hands and kiss him, “So are you.”

“I don’t think you know what you do to me, baby.” His hand finds your breast and squeezes while he kisses your neck.

You moan when he uses his other hand to grip your neck, thumb against your pulse point, “If it’s anything like how I feel right now, then yes, I do.”

He lifts his head up to watch your face as he chokes you, softly so he doesn’t hurt you but hard enough to play with your breath. His thumb opens your mouth and your legs tremble.

“So I take it you’re into choking, my love?” You nod excitedly, unable to speak, and his grip tightens.

You let out a squeak and he releases, face etched with worry, kissing your neck where he touched you. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head and smile comfortingly, “No, baby, I’m okay. I’ll tap out if it’s too rough, I promise,” you tease.

His grumbling voice deepens, “Good... because, darling, right now all I want to do is bury my face in between those gorgeous thighs of yours.”

You inhale sharply when he opens your legs once again, looking up at you and you nod in consent.

“I need words, beautiful,” he smirks with his mouth just above your center.

“Yes, please,” you breathe out and he responds with a swift lick to your pussy. He looks up at you and when he catches your eye, it’s as if the sensation grows stronger and your head hits your pillow.

“I’ve barely even touched you,” he mumbles into you and you feel his smug smile in your thigh. His fingers dip into you as he flattens his tongue and crooks them towards himself, you grip your sheets.

“Don’t... flatter yourself,” you sigh out. “I-it’s just been awhile.”

He removes his mouth and fingers from you, “So anyone can make you feel like this?”

You enjoy the feeling you get when he looks at you like that, his eyes dark and dominant, so you play along and nod. “Yes, in fact, I’ve had better.”

He licks his lips and gets up from the bed. He opens his drawer and you sit up to look what he grabs: a belt. Your heart beats excitedly in your chest even though you know you shouldn’t be. He gets back on the bed and climbs over you.

Robert looks at you, “Hands.”

You extend them to him wordlessly, watching as he ties your wrists together and puts them over the bedpost so you’re trapped there, unable to move.

“Now,” he holds himself above you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re to stay tied up until I say so, anything like that again and they get tighter. Nod if you understand me.”

You nod emphatically. You had never seen this side of Robert before, so in control and not afraid to go too far, it was so unbelievably sexy.

The best part was he didn’t tie it tight enough, afraid of hurting you, so you could easily slip out your hands at any moment.

He kisses, painfully slow, down your chest and wraps his lips around your nipple. He swirls his tongue around the erect bud and you gasp, desperate to touch him. He looks up at you from you chest as he switches to the other, massaging the unattended one as he sucks, the pleasurable feeling overwhelming you. So much so you have to clench your thighs together, longing for some sort of relief for the tension building in your abdomen.

“Baby, please,” you whine, squirming beneath him.

He shuts you up with a bruising kiss while his hand slips down to enter you, two fingers in already. He pumps them in and out of you before sliding back down the expanses of your body and letting his mouth latch onto your clit. He sucks hard and you stifle a loud moan that would surely alert everyone in the home of your arousal. He holds you down against the bed with a palm flat against your stomach as you begin to lift your pelvis. His tongue enters you while his fingers take over, stimulating you with gentle rubs and flicks. But just before you feel that euphoric release, his actions cease and you’re left hot and flustered.

“Robert,” you look at him with a deep frown.

He grins, “Y/n...”

You blow hair out of your eyes, “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He puts his lips near your ear, “Are you ready?” You nod as he pushes himself inside you and you bite back a moan into his shoulder.

You finally have enough, slip your hands out, and he pinches his brow, unable to hide his shock before you bring him down to press your lips against his. He melts into you, arms wrapped around you while he holds you close, filling you out in all the right places. He quickens his pace and you whine into his mouth, nails digging into his skin. You wrap your legs around his torso and he hits you so nicely. He was right, it’s the best you’ve ever had. He rises and looks at you, lips swollen and red from kissing, eyes clear and pupils large, and face flushed with heat. Your hair is in messy tendrils at all angles and you’ve never been more attractive.

“You’re doing so good,” he praises in your ear, placing kisses across your jaw. “Taking my cock so well.”

You whimper and his movements stiffen as he approaches release and so do you, walls tightening around him. He reaches down and rubs your clit with his expert fingers. You finish together, mouths open and hands all over each other’s bodies. It overcomes you in a tingling, perfect sensation, it continues on, leaving you aching and wanting more.

He rubs his knuckles over your cheek, softly and adoringly he looks at you. You tuck yourself into his arms under the blankets. Everything you both have wanted for a long time, laying right in front of you.

“Still want to make me not walk?” you tease, looking up at him.

He kisses your eyelids and you giggle, “Fuck yes.”

Part 2?

#harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #rick flagg #bloodsport #bloodsport x reader #robert dubois x reader #robert dubois #idris elba #suicide squad #suicide squad 2 #dc #dc smut #dc fanfiction #fanfiction #smut

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anythingwriter · 3 years

Text

Vipers

Tommy Shelby x reader

Warnings: language, men being sexest, brief mention of death, a little bit of a slow burn

Word Count: 3,900 of pure trash:)

Requested by: @imthebadguyyy

Summary: Thomas Shelby has been expanding his business for years, making deals with other gangs all the time. But the Vipers, they were a different story. They’re crazy and dangerous, and they are not willing to share their land, so Tommy sets up a meeting with their leader. It was not who he expected.

a/n: Dudley is a city in England kind of close to Birmingham, just so y’all know.

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

Polly was minding her business, walking around the shop straightening up here and there. It was just her and Esme at the moment, the betting shop had not yet opened. There was supposed to be a family meeting in about ten minutes, but by the looks of it Tommy was going to be late as perusal.

Ada had just walked in, shortly followed by John and Arthur. Finn stayed with Isaiah, Tommy had told him not to come because it was an “adult” meeting. They all sat around, conversing and just having small talk and after twenty minutes of waiting for Tommy, Polly was fed up.

“Where the bloody hell is that brother of yours?”

John and Arthur looked at eachother wearily, should they tell her?

Their looks didn’t go unnoticed by any of the women. Ada was getting frustrated too, Tommy called the damn meeting so where the hell was he?

“C’mon boys, Polly and I want to know.”

Arthur sighed, rubbing a hand down his face and itching his mustache, “so you see ladies, he-”

Arthur was interrupted by the door to the shop slamming open and banging against the wall, Tommy coming in with literal blood on his hands.

“What the fuck Thomas? Where in the bloody hell have you been? An- and is that blood?! Christ Tommy!” Polly was so confused, her nephew came into his own meeting late, with blood on his hands?

Tommy ignored his aunts questions and walked around the table, lit a cigarette and poured himself a glass of whiskey, Irish of course. He grabbed a cloth and began to wipe the blood off of his hands, all while being silent. Everyone else had grown quiet too, waiting for Tommy to speak, or at least acknowledge them.

He drank his whiskey in one gulp and poured another. He then finally looked up at his family, now clean from the blood on his hands. Well, at least the blood that you could see.

“I’ve been trying to make new...acquaintances you could say,” he took a long drag of his cig, “and people were not happy about it.”

The three women looked at Tommy, waiting for him to explain more. John and Arthur already knew everything, they were just sitting there, waiting for their aunt's reaction to what Tommys was about to say. He quickly drank his second glass. Polly copied his actions, bringing her drink to her lips as well.

“As you all know, our business is expanding everyday. We’ve already reached London, and now, now I’m trying to get to Dudley.”

Ada's eyes widened and Esme immediately got up to leave. Polly began to ferociously cough on her drink, not expecting to hear such news. Arthur leaned over in his seat and aggressively started to smack his aunt’s back, trying to help ease her drink down. Tommy sat there just watching everything with a stoic face.

Polly began to swat at Arthurs hands, and he pulled them back raised in the air defensively, not wanting to get hit by his aunt.

She rose from her seat, a look of disbelief on her face and pointed her manicured finger in Tommy's face, “Are you MAD Thomas?! You have no business being on their land! Now you've done dragged us all into this! Thomas, what in the blo-”

“Hear me out Pol, I’ve al-” Polly cut him off like he did her, she was furious. He was going to get them all killed!

“No Thomas, you listen to me. You go on their land and expect to make a peace treaty with them? They’re so good at what they do no one’s ever seen their faces Tom! Just you wait, this is all going to come back and bite you in your ass!” Polly stormed out of the shop and into their house, slamming the doors behind her.

They all sat in silence for a few seconds before John decided to break it, “well, that went better than I thought it would.” Arthur snorted at that, raising his drink to cover the sound.

“Whose blood was on your hands, Tommy?” For the first time the whole meeting, Ada had finally spoken.

“Some man came up to me and told me to leave, saying they didn’t want the devil to walk among their streets. He pulled a knife on me, so I shot him. Simple as that.”

“Simple as that? Simple as that Tommy? You’ve shot one of her men! This is war now Tommy.”

Arthur looked up from his drink and made eye contact with Ada, “Her? Who in the bloody hell said anything about it being a woman, Ada? You really think the leader of The Vipers is a woman?”

“Haven’t you lot heard? There's been rumors for months about the WHOLE gang being run by women.”

John and Arthur both barked out laughter, women? Why would women be running a gang, let alone one as dangerous as The Vipers.

Ada’s face turned red, cursing her sexest brothers. Stupid men and their cocks.

Tommy sat there reclined in his seat, lost in his own thought. It couldn’t be women, could it?

His sister stood up from her seat, yelling at her brothers before leaving the room in the same fashion Polly had, even slamming the door a little harder.

Arthur smacked his hand against the table, breaking Tommy out of his trance. Him and John were still laughing their asses off.

“Women? Can you bloody believe that Tom? A bloody woman!” John doubled back over in laughter again at Arthurs words. Tommy still just sat there, watching his brothers laugh. He got up to leave the shop, heading to London to see a certain Solomons.

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

“Tommy, what can I do for you mate?” Alfie was loud, as usual.

Tommy sat in front of Alfie, preparing himself for the conversation ahead of him. “There’s word going around, Alfie, that you are the only ally of The Vipers, is that true?”

Alfie stared blankly ahead of himself before letting out a loud boisterous laugh that had Ollie wincing in the corner. He looked at Tommy and immediately stopped when he saw Tommy was serious.

“Oh, oh you’re serious?” What business could you possibly want with The Vipers Tommy?”

“Is that a yes or no, Alfie? Are you allies with them?”

Alfie eyeballed Tommy before sighing and nodding his head. Tommy smirked at his small victory. “I’m wanting to do business with him, Alfie. I want to expand and put some of my men in Dudley. But, I need help. I’ve heard they’re unpredictable, especially their leader. Would you care to tell me his name, Alf?”

Again, Alfie laughed. He stood up with the help of his cane and leaned on his large desk closer to Tommy, “right, there's two things you need to know Tom. First of all, they are unpredictable and they wouldn’t hesitate to bite your head off if you backstabbed them, yeah.” He paused for a second, debating if he should tell Tommy the second part.

Tommy nodded, waiting for Alfie to continue, but he didn’t.

“What’s the second thing?”

Alfie just smirked down at the brummie, “That's for me to know and for you to find out.”

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

Three days later it was Friday evening and Tommy had invited everyone for a family dinner, it was all Polly’s idea. They were all gathered around the unnecessary large dining table at Arrow house. Charlie sat next to Tommy, Esme and John were next to each other, their hundreds of kids all at home with a sitter, along with Karl. Polly and Ada were sat side by side and Arthur was in the corner of the room pouring himself a drink. It was getting late, everyone had already ate their dinner and dessert.

“Mary, could you take Charlie up to bed? It’s getting late.”

She quickly walked around the table nodding her head, “Yes, Mr.Shelby.”

Everyone had migrated to the living room now, for once not talking about business. Their laughing was interrupted when there was a knock on the door, they all stood up.

“Who could that possibly be this late at night?” The loud knock had put all of them on edge.

The men all drew their guns, walking to the door, telling the woman to stay put. Naturally none of them listened and they all followed behind the boys.

Tommy swung the door open with his gun pointed out, ready to shoot whoever was there. They were all confused when they didn’t see anybody, but they were even more confused when they looked down to see a box with Tommy’s name on it.

Polly smacked Tommy on the back of his head, “Don't just stand there you idiot, bring the box in!” She reached down and grabbed the box, bringing it in and sitting it on the living room table.

John was a little hesitant, why was there a box? Who had dropped it off?

Tommy inspected the box, it didn’t seem harmful, but that didn’t stop his nerves. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he was a little freaked out at the package too. He slowly reached for the box and ever so slowly opened it.

“BLOODY HELL!”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“TOMMY I-”

“WHAT IN THE HELL IS THAT?!”

Everyone was screaming and panicking, Tommy had jumped back and almost tripped over his feet, the women had all run to the next room and the men had drawn their guns once again.

Lunging out of the box was a bright green fluorescent Viper, hungry for blood. It striked again, almost catching Esme by the arm as she ran by it. It slithered out the box, its fangs out waiting to catch someone. Arthur began shooting at the floor, steadily putting holes in it. Tommy had finally stood back up, and John reached for Esme to check her for injuries. Arthur kept shooting, still putting bullet holes in Tommy's wooden floors.

A loud bang echoed through the house, and it wasn’t Arthur because he had run out of ammo. There stood Ada with a small revolver in her had, and a bullet lodged in the snakes head. Everyone stopped to stare at her, eyes wide in shock.

“Guess chasing rats finally paid off, huh?”

Polly had walked back in the room and bent down to inspect the green snake before standing up to look Tommy in the eyes.

John hugged Esme to his chest and turned towards his brother, “What in the bloody hell is this Tom?”

Tommy looked at John blankly, he himself didn’t even know. He went to make something up but Pol had beaten him to it.

“This, John,” she reached down and picked up the dead but still squirming snake, “is what you call a Viper.” And with that she flung the snake at Tommy who jumped back in disgust.

Adas head perked up at that, “A viper? But how, they're not native.”

Everyone thought about it a moment, before they put the pieces together. Polly began to laugh maniacally and everyone averted their gaze to her, had she gone mad?

“I told you Thomas! I told you this was going to come back and bite you in your ass!”

Tommy sighed and ran a hand down his sweating face before peering in the box again. Inside was a note and he reached in to grab it and he read it aloud, “Stay off our land Shelby.”

Everyone began to fret again. They were running around like a chicken that got its head cut off, screaming about how Tommy never should have stepped foot in Dudley.

Tommy sat down on his couch, thinking about what to do. What if Charlie had been downstairs? The snake surely would have gotten to him, after all he is just a child. He needed a smoke and a drink as soon as possible, he stood up and marched up to his office to make a phone call, completely ignoring his family's calls of his name

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

Two weeks after the snake incident, Tommy had managed to get a meeting with you, thanks to the one and only Alfie Solomons. When Tommy had told him what had happened that night he shook his head and chucked, telling Tommy you had done the same thing to him all those years ago. But Tommy still didn’t know who you were.

The three eldest Shelby’s stepped out of Tommy's car and landed on the Dudely turf, they all felt a little uneasy about the situation. They began to follow the directions Alfie had given them, the area getting more and more sketchier as they went.

Dudley was very dull, the sky was always grey and the streets were always muddy. The air was foggy like Birmingham, maybe even worse. They were getting looks everywhere they turned, none of them being used to it considering their name.

A loud clang of metal caught their attention and they all turned to look. All three of them pulled their guns when they saw a scruffy man charging them with a knife. Right when Arthur was about to pull the trigger, they all four stopped when someone yell.

Another man came running towards them, screaming at the man that was attacking them.

“Stop Marc! They’re here because Yilan has agreed to meet with them!”

The man stopped what he was doing immediately, turning as pale as a ghost and dropped his weapon to the ground. He turned back around to the Shleby’s and apologized profusely before running off.

The three brothers looked at each other in confusion.

“What the fuck was that about? Who the hell is Yilan?” John was asking too many questions and Tommy didn’t have the answers to them.

“I don’t fucking know John, now shut the hell up!”

(a/n: Yilan means snake in Turkish [which is my family’s native language])

The man who had stopped the other walked up to the brothers.

“I am sorry, sirs. Yilan is what we call the leader of the Vipers.”

Tommy nodded a thanks to the man, asking him if he could take them to their headquarters. The man reluctantly agreed, not wanting to get on anyones bad side.

After around twenty more minutes of walking they stopped in front of a worn down brick building. It had vines growing up the whole thing and two very, very large men were guarding the door. Their escort had scurried off as soon as they got there, Tommy not even being able to thank the man.

The brothers began to walk towards the door and Arthur leaned down to whisper, “Ha, and Ada said they were run by women!”

John chuckled, he couldn’t wait to tell Ada she was wrong. Tommy hushed the two before speaking to the men guarding the door.

They both stared at the brothers, almost as if they were staring into their souls. They didn’t speak, waiting for one of the others to.

Tommy cleared his throat, “We’re here to see your boss. We have a meeting, Thomas Shelby.”

The larger out of the two opened the door, “Third floor straight down the hallway.” Tommy nodded his head before heading in, the two brothers following his lead.

The inside of the building was loud with music and the walls were all painted bright green. Tommy guessed for a viper. They all walked in a little further and stopped in their tracks, shock registering through their veins.

There was not one man inside. The room was full of women from every race you could imagine. Some had a tattoo here and there, some were covered in them. There was women with red curly hair, others with black straight. Any type of woman you could imagine, from short to tall and thin to curvy, was there. And they were all staring at them.

Arthur gulped and John smirked but then quickly frowned when he realised that his sister was right, this whole gang was women. He did have to admit though, it was a little sexy, even though he knew half of them could probably kick his ass.

Tommy cleared his throat before walking ahead, not making eye contact with any of the women. He walked towards the stairs and climbed them until he got to the third floor and walked straight down the hallway. When they reached the door Tommy hesitated for a moment before knocking. A faint “come in” was heard, and they all walked in.

Sitting behind a large oak desk was you, relaxing in your chair with a wicked smile on your face. You were so ready to finally meet the man who wanted your land.

Not making any effort to sit up in a more presentable position, you gestured to the three chairs in front of you, telling them to take a seat.

Tommy and John did but Arthur was still hesitant. What had they walked into?

“No offense ma’am, I think I would rather stand,” he was fidgeting the whole time and you could smell his nervousness. Tommy looked up and glared at his older brother.

You leaned forward in your chair and rested your arms on your desk and sat your chin on your hands. “Please, Arthur, take a seat before I shoot both your knee caps and make you sit.” You pulled a gun and sat it on your desk, smiling up at Arthur.

John was a nervous wreck and Arthur visibly gulped and sat down with shaky legs. Tommy kept staring at you though, he thought you were beautiful, but psycho. You intrigued him.

You leaned back in your chair again, leaving the gun on the desk. “Mr.Shelby, I do really hope you enjoyed my gift the other day. Alfie told me it brought… excitement to your family.”

God you were definitely psycho.

Tommy cleared his throat, “Ms.Yilan I-”

You sat back up again, “No no no, Mr.Shelby, that is not my name. Please, call me y/n.”

For a brief moment there, you almost seemed normal. It scared the brothers how easily your emotions changed.

“Right, okay. Let's not even talk about that, okay? Let's just get straight to business. And please, call me Tommy”

“I like the way you think, Tommy.”

And boy did you like the way he looked too.

“First of all Tommy, I do NOT like you coming on to MY land and shooting MY people.” You were getting angry, your eyes were ablaze and your jaw was clenched.

“That man you shot, Tommy, had a family. He had a wife and two daughters, and now I have to spend MY money on them because YOU shot their caretaker. I could be doing so much more with that money.”

Tommy was taken aback with your forwardness, those were not the words he was expecting to hear.

“He charged me with a knife, it was self de-”

“Nonsense Tommy! You could have simply knocked him out, anything but shoot him! He was an innocent man Thomas!”

Tommy sighed, he knew there was no winning this. “You’re right, and I apologize for my mistake.”

John and Arthur looked at each other with wide eyes, Tommy apologized?

“Thank you, but your apology is not accepted, but I do believe we're even.”

Tommy’s brows furrowed, even? How were you even?

This caught Johns interest too, “Even? How do you mean?”

You smirked at all of them and they became concerned, what had you done?

“On your way here, hope you all had a nice trip by the way, I sent two of my women to your town. I told them to do exactly as you did, but add some Viper charm to it. They took my beloved snake Ebony with them, and they allowed her to pick an innocent man, like you had.”

Tommy was definitely confused now, where was this going?

“She did amazing, really. She struck an innocent man in the streets. And I would say that right about now,” you checked your watch, “her venom is kicking in, and he is dying a slow and painful death.” You looked up at the three, flashing them an innocent smile.

“You fucking crazy bitch! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!” Arthur lunged for you across your desk, Tommy and John trying to stop him.

He grabbed your gun that you left on the table and pointed it straight to your face. All you did was smirk at him.

Tommy pleadingly begged Arthur to put the gun down, but you held up your hand to stop him. He looked at you like you were crazy. Which to be fair, you were.

“Go on Arthur,” you pressed your head closer to the barrel, “I know you want to. Why don’t you pull it, huh? Do the world a favor and get rid of a crazy bitch like me.”

Arthur stared in your eyes, looking for any sign of fear. He found none. He thought about it for a moment, should he do it? After all, the world would be a better place.

He smiled, and pulled the trigger.

But nothing happened, his smile fell when he heard you laughing. He opened the barrel to the gun and found that there were no bullets, you had played him. He backed away and fell back in his chair when you got up. You pulled a gun from the waistband of your trousers and pointed it towards him, shooting a shot that whizzed by his head so he knew this one was full. John flinched, and Tommy reached for his own gun.

You pointed your gun at John and then back at Arthur, “You two, get out. I want to speak to Thomas. Alone.”

They both got up and scurried out the door like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. You put your gun away which was a sign for Tommy too as well, and you both sat down.

“Now Thomas, lets talk about business, yeah?”

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

Almost an hour later you and Tommy had finally come to terms and made a small business deal. It wasn’t anything big, but it was a start. Tommy still sat in front of you, drinking his whiskey that you had poured him. Oddly enough he had grown to like you.

Strangely, so had you.

Tommy put out his cigarette and pointed his drink in your direction, “What’re you doing this Friday y/n?”

You pretended to check your agenda, and smiled at Tommy. “Well, hopefully I’ll being going on a date with a very handsome man.”

He smiled up at you “He must be quite handsome for you to agree.”

“That he is Tommy. How about you?”

He smirked at you through the rim of his drink, “Oh you know, I’m going on a date with one crazy bitch.”

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

I hope you like it @imthebadguyyy !! Although, I low key hated it😂😂

Have a great day darlings!!❤️❤️❤️

Let me know if y’all want to be added to the taglist!!

@nothingleftthaticando @shadowfoxey

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby

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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

Text

ice blue - tommy shelby x reader

a/n: hi lovelies! i literally just finished typing this and i’ve gotten so many notes on my preview of it that i literally couldn’t wait to give this to you guys. i really really hope you like it :) lmk if there’s anything in specific you guys want me to write, otherwise the next thing i’m working on is gonna be with john (i’ve already started it and this one is fucking hOt a bitch is sweating). as always message me literally about anything or if you want me to start a taglist

love, abi xxx

prompt: you’re back home in Birmingham and you need a job. Tommy Shelby offers you one.

warnings: nsfw!! smut, light choking, power kink oops

You stepped out of the car, cold air coming up to brush against your ankles as you shivered in the brisk English evening, wrapping your black wool coat tightly around you. You were once again new to Birmingham, having grown up there, but at the age of 9, you were sent to a boarding school in London after your parents were killed in a house fire. You had gone on to college, but had to drop out because you simply couldn’t make ends meet. Now, at the age of 21, you were back home, looking for a job, and as soon as you arrived, the first person to call was your best schoolmate, Ada Shelby. Ada was spunky, fearless, and didn’t take no for an answer, which was one of the reasons the two of you got on so well. She had insisted on taking you out to her family’s bar, despite your pleas that you were exhausted. Fuck it, you had thought to yourself. If you were going to go out, you were going to look good doing it. So, you slipped on your best set of red silk lingerie and your shortest black lace dress which dipped low to accentuate your breasts and applied a dark red lipstick as well as eyeliner. Underneath, you slid on a pair of sheer black tights and slipped on black kitten heels. You slipped on a pair of dangly silver earrings, admiring yourself in the mirror before you had slid your silver cigarette case and lighter into a black clutch, shrugged on your coat, and made your way out the door.

There, Ada had been waiting in the back of a Model T, looking gorgeous in a dark purple silk dress. She had greeted you with open arms and a huge smile, chattering on about how beautiful you looked and how much she had missed you. The two of you had managed to stay in contact throughout the years, writing letters about the current events, so you knew all about her baby, and pressed her with many questions about how she was doing. Now, here you were, in front of a bar, the muffled drunken shouts and laughter seeping through the brick walls.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Ada grinned at you, nudging you with her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go in, and don’t worry about paying. This is my family’s bar,” she said, leading you towards the wooden doors.

“Fuck, Ada, your family owns this whole thing?” You marveled at the exterior of the building as Ada practically dragged you towards the double doors.

“Yeah, it’s all that and everything,” Ada waved her hand dismissively as she reached for the door handle. “Let’s get to the damn bar already, I need a fucking drink.” She pulled the doors open and the noise washed over you, the smell of alcohol permeating the air. The bar was dimly lit, with leather upholstery and plenty of drunk Englishmen. Bottles of spirits adorned an entire wall behind the bar in the rear. The noise swirled around you as Ada pushed her way through the crowd, determined to reach her destination. Finally, you reached the bar, and almost immediately a bartender appeared. You had known the Shelby’s were powerful, but Ada had never really talked about her family’s business. They must have been fucking loaded; the way people parted for Ada, you couldn’t even imagine the way they must have bowed for her brothers. You had never really interacted with them, but you assumed that was going to change. All you really knew about them was from the rumors, which were gruesome and plentiful.

“Give me two whiskeys,” Ada said to the bartender, who slid the glasses her way. “Thanks, Harry,” Ada yelled, handing you a glass and pulling you towards the rear of the bar, opening a door and ushering you in. As soon as you entered the room, the entire atmosphere shifted. This room was much quieter; you could even hear jazz music over the chatter. Smoke clouded the air, and you downed your drink to quiet your nerves, as you had realized that these were some of the most powerful people in the city that surrounded you. A maid appeared to take you and Ada’s jackets, and as you slipped off your coat, a wave of insecurity hit you. Ada was making small talk with an unfamiliar woman next to you, and you tapped her shoulder, telling her you were heading to the bar as she nodded, shouting after you, “When you come back, get me another whiskey!”

You laughed, turning and making your way to the bar, sliding into a stool upholstered with crushed red velvet. You motioned the bartender over, and as you waited, you took out a cigarette and lit it. The bartender set your whiskey in front of you, and as soon as you had picked it up, Ada had you by the arm and was tugging you to a booth, your whiskey and cigarette still in hand, your clutch tucked under your arm. In the booth sat three men, each of varying ages and all adorned in formal wear and newsboy caps, complete with glistening pocket-watch chains.

“Shove over,” Ada said, pulling you into the booth next to one of the brothers. “Y/N, these are my daft brain brothers, Arthur, Tommy, and John.” The oldest, sporting various scars across his face did little but grunt and touch his hat, getting up to exit the booth, and the youngest had already started bickering across the table with Ada, something about who was the biggest idiot. The middle brother, however, was fucking gorgeous. You already knew you were screwed. He had long doe eyelashes, framing ice blue eyes, and his jawline was neatly defined. His cologne alone was doing things to you. Get it together, you thought to yourself, downing the whiskey in your glass. The motion caught his attention and you felt his gaze on you, piercing your soul and sending goosebumps down your spine. He put his cigarette to his mouth and took a drag, and you couldn’t help but draw your eyes to the way his lips parted.

“You like Irish whiskey?” His smooth voice shook you to the core. You looked at him in shock for a second before quickly collecting yourself.

“I’ve always drank it, my whole family does,” you responded, your gaze lifting to meet his. He leaned back, eyes drinking you in. You chewed your lip, pressing your thighs together in an effort to quench the ache that had begun to form.

“Tommy!” A voice rang from across the room. The brother, who you assumed now was named Tommy, stood. “Excuse me for a minute,” Tommy said, stepping aside to converse with a woman you recognized as Ada’s aunt. The woman seemed angry, but then, from what you remembered, she always had. After a few minutes, she left and Tommy slid back into the booth, exhaling and shooting his whiskey. Ada and the youngest brother, who you had learned was John had both moseyed off, so it was just you and Tommy in the booth, in the corner of the room. Tommy took a drag of his cigarette and sighed.

“Ada told me you need a job,” he said, eyes lingering on you.

“I do,” you admitted, “but I don’t want you to feel obliged or anything. I can manage-”

“I need a new assistant,” Tommy cut you off, but you honestly didn’t mind. Something about the way he did it managed not to rub you the wrong way. “It’s mostly paperwork, but I’d pay you well. 40 shillings a week.” Tommy took the last drag of his cigarette, putting it out while still holding you in his gaze.

“I can do that,” you managed to blurt out. God knows what you were getting yourself into, getting hired by a man that not only had a notorious reputation but was making you trip over your own words. Something about the way he looked at you, though, made you say yes. You already couldn’t resist him. God damn it, you thought to yourself.

Across from you, Tommy pulled his jacket on. “Monday, 8 am. My office.” He slipped a piece of paper to you with an address scrawled on it, standing and leaving. As quickly as you had become intoxicated by him, he had left. The whole night, throughout all of Ada’s chatter, on the way home, in the bath, in bed, he never left the back of your mind. You wanted to be his, as much as you tried to fight the thought for not only your sake but Ada’s. You knew it was impossible, that he would want you like this, so you reserved yourself to daydreaming. His hands on your hips, his mouth on yours: you craved it, unsatisfied by your own touch even after multiple rounds. You couldn’t escape him.

***

You awoke nervous, stomach doing cartwheels. You hadn’t seen Tommy since Saturday at the bar when you had met, and the anticipation of seeing him and having to hold yourself together and not beg him to bend you over the nearest piece of furniture was almost overwhelming. You decided on a simple black blouse and a tight black skirt with black tights and heels. You pulled your fitted wool coat over your shoulders and stepped out into the cool British morning, horses clopping past as your heels clacked over the bricks, making your way past children playing and yelling. The wind whipped past your cheeks, staining them a rosy pink as you pulled open the heavy wooden door of the office building. The warm air surrounded you, and above the conversations between the workers seated and standing around desks, you could faintly hear Ada arguing with someone in a back room somewhere. The office consisted of wood furniture and a couple of separated rooms, you assumed, for Ada’s brothers, the heads of the company. The fireplace in the corner provided a much needed reprieve from the wind outside, and you slipped your coat off, hanging it on the coat rack. One of the doors read “The office of Thomas Shelby” in gold lettering, and you knocked lightly, not wanting to appear late on your first day.

“Come in,” Tommy’s voice echoed from inside the room and you opened the door, closing it slowly behind you. Tommy was seated at a dark leather chair behind a desk, taking a drag from a cigarette whilst reading from a newspaper spread out in front of him. He looked up at you, clad in a dark grey vest which hugged his chest deliciously with a white collared dress shirt and black tie underneath. Gold chains sat firmly on his biceps, ice blue eyes boring through your clothes and making your cheeks flush. He sat like a king on his throne, and it was tantalizing.

“Good morning, Mr. Shelby,” you spoke quietly but firmly, eyes trailing up to meet his. He cracked a small smirk when your gaze met his, and it felt like he could see right through your shirt and your black lace bra. It must be your imagination, you thought, that he could be undressing you with his eyes like that. Surely you were delusional.

“You decided to take me up on my offer, I see,” Tommy said, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest in a way that made you want to test his self control. “You know how to type, I assume?” His eyes flickered over your figure, lingering on the curve of your hips, making you feel like this wasn’t a regular business transaction. What you wouldn’t give to be one of the whores he visits in the middle of the night… You quickly gathered yourself together and responded.

“Yes,” you spoke. “I’ve worked as a secretary before.” Tommy nodded, standing and making his way around the front of his desk to lean on it, narrowing the space between the two of you significantly. “I’m not your normal businessman, you see,” he said, leaning back against the desk. “I keep odd hours, so if I asked you to stay late, would that be a problem?”

“No sir,” you replied, unable to rip your eyes off of the curve of Tommy’s lips and how they looked puffing at a cigarette.

“Good girl.” Your mouth dropped open slightly at his shameless assertiveness, a blush spreading across your cheeks. You couldn’t believe his forwardness, you thought, but you weren’t going to lie, it was fucking hot. Tommy grinned at you, turning his back to grab a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from the barcart in the corner of the room. He made his way back to his seat and placed the whiskey as well as the glasses on his desk, filling each and gesturing for you to sit with his hand. You sunk into the chair, legs crossed tightly in an attempt to relieve your throbbing core. You were absolutely fucked, you thought. Tommy opened a drawer, rifling through some papers before producing a contract typed in black ink.

“Cheers,” he offered you a glass of whiskey in one hand and a pen in the other. You accepted both, quickly rifling through the contract and scribbling your signature on the last page. Once you signed, your eyes flickered up to meet Tommy’s and he grinned, boyishly handsome yet devious.

“To new beginnings,” he said, offering his glass to clink against yours. You downed the whiskey in one gulp as Tommy looked on, blue eyes drinking you in.

“Nervous, darling?” he drawled, puffing at his cigarette. You suddenly felt a rush of confidence you hadn’t before. You could play this game too, and if you were, you were going to do it well.

“No,” you shook your head, a shy smile playing at your lips. “Just want to get to the point, is all.”

Tommy chuckled. “A woman after my own heart, aye?” With every glance he gave you, you became more emboldened. Yet, the man was still your boss, and you were in no place to proposition him, so you had to play coy.

“If that’s what you’d like, Mr. Shelby,” you said, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you reached for your cigarette case, taking one out and lighting it, exhaling a small cloud of smoke. Tommy refilled his glass, taking a swig as he stood and made his way to a cabinet, retrieving a stack of papers. He made his way back to his seat, placing the pile in front of you.

“I need these transaction records typed up by Friday, end of the day. Can you do that?”

You nodded, pink-stained lips puffing at the butt of your cigarette. “Is that all, Mr. Shelby?”

Tommy’s eyes flickered towards your mouth, and he took another drink. “For now, yes. I’ll have John show you to your desk, yeah?”

“Yes, Mr. Shelby,” you responded politely, putting out your cigarette. You could feel Tommy’s eyes on you as you left the room. As soon as you closed the office door behind you, you almost let out a sigh of relief. You hadn’t realized how tightly you’d been pressing your legs together, and they almost felt shaky. You didn’t know how you were going to get through another day of this, let alone the rest of the week. Fuck me, you thought to yourself.

***

The rest of the weekdays flew by, as you kept yourself busy with not only the work Tommy had given you but also managing his appointments and relaying his messages to his two brothers and other various family members. You got on with everyone in the office relatively well, most likely at Ada’s enforcement. She could be very assertive, but that was normal, considering she was the only girl with 4 brothers.

Your contact with Tommy, though often, was all business. He would spend hours at his desk, frowning down at various papers and logs with his whiskey and a cigarette, long after the others had gone home. He would always send you home though, telling you to get some rest. Though he was assertive, you found him to be surprisingly sweet. He didn’t hold doors for you or anything like that, but you didn’t expect that; you knew your place in the company. However, he never kept you late if you looked exhausted and would do small things, like let Ada interrupt your work with whatever news or gossip she had, and never said a thing, just smiled. However, Ada’s chatter had gotten the better of you and it was already Friday.

Around 8pm, after most of the office had left for the day, you finally typed up the last transaction log, sighing with relief and slumping back in your chair for a brief moment before straightening up and smoothing out your plum-colored pencil skirt and white blouse. You flipped open your contact mirror, making sure your pinned-up hair looked acceptable before putting out your cigarette, gathering the pile of papers and log, and knocked on Tommy’s door.

“Come in, Y/N,” Tommy’s voice came through the door and you shivered, already nervous not only to be alone with him but also about the quality of your work. You pulled the door open, closing it behind you and walking up to Tommy’s desk, where he sat in a light grey three-piece suit reading through a folder. A pair of gold spectacles sat neatly on his face, and a cigarette hung loosely from his lips, making your mind wander.

“I have the papers you wanted typed up in the log, Mr. Shelby,” you spoke, clutching the book so tightly in your hand that you had to tell yourself to loosen your grip. “Is there somewhere you’d like me to put them?”

Tommy gestured with his right hand towards the desk, his eyes still trained on the files. “Set them on the desk, and stay.” You complied, standing in front of his desk, and Tommy closed the folder, placing it into a drawer and locking it, taking off his glasses and setting them down on his oak desk. He reached for the work you had completed, flipping through it and letting out a small grunt of approval. “Very good.”

A blush crept across your cheeks. “Thank you, Mr. Shelby,” you responded, trying to focus your mind on something other than the way he would look on top of you.

Tommy set the work aside, eyes now firmly trained on you. “Tell me something, Y/N,” he said, taking a draw from the cigarette in his mouth. “Have you ever been fucked?”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. “Mr. Shelby, I-”

Tommy chuckled, shooting his whiskey and refilling his glass from the bottle on his desk, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not asking if you’re a virgin. I’m asking you if you’ve ever been fucked, properly.”

Your face was a rose pink, and it wasn’t just from the embarrassment. “I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Shelby-”

“I think you do.” Tommy smirked at you, ice blue eyes tracing your figure. The heat between the two of you was practically unbearable, and you had to remind yourself to keep breathing.

“No, not really,” you whispered, thighs clenched together as your eyes met Tommy’s.

Tommy smiled, almost deviously. “I didn’t think so,” he said, taking another drag and putting the cigarette out as he stood, coming around his desk and leaning back against it, eyes still fixed on you. “Do you want to be?”

You almost couldn’t believe the words you were hearing. Yet, Tommy was here, in front of you, asking if you wanted to be fucked by him. “Yes.” The answer almost fell out of your mouth, and your knees felt weak. Tommy wasted no time in closing the distance between the two of you, pressing you up against the nearest wall as his lips met yours. The feeling of his body against yours was better than you had imagined, and as his hips met yours, you let out a soft moan into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Tommy growled, picking you up by your legs and placing you on his desk, sweeping all the papers off with a sweep of his arm. A glass crashed onto the ground but he didn’t care, tugging his shirt over his shoulders while you removed yours. He pulled you against him roughly as he reconnected his lips with yours, his cock pressed up against your damp underwear. He stopped kissing you to let you pull off your skirt, discarding it somewhere on the floor, leaving you in your black garters and underwear.

“Look at you,” Tommy groaned, palming his cock through his trousers as he stared at your touseled hair and swollen lips and the way you were breathing hard. “All fucking riled up for me already, and I haven’t even gotten you naked yet, aye?”

“Mr. Shelby, please sir,” you whined, eyes widening as you realized what you had just said. Tommy’s eyes, however, darkened as he stepped inches away from you.

“Is that how you want it, huh?” Tommy breathed down your neck and you shivered, his hand gently wrapping around your throat. “You want to be fucked on the boss’s desk?” He reached his other hand down to cup your cunt. You squirmed in protest, pushing yourself against his hand as he chuckled darkly.

“You going to be a good girl for me?” Tommy cajoled, pressing his palm against your clit. You moaned, nodding vigorously as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. He pulled your panties down, ripping your garters off and slipped a finger inside of you, making you cry out in response and clench around his fingers. He quickly joined that finger with another, pumping them in and out of you.

“Oh fuck,” you cried as you felt your release approaching. “Oh God, I’m gonna cum..”

“Cum for me then, pretty girl. Make a mess for me, yeah?” Tommy growled into your ear as you came all over his fingers. Tommy chuckled as you caught your breath, bringing his fingers to his mouth.

“God, you’re sweet,” he murmured, his eyes blown out with lust. Your breath hitched at his words and you kissed him, tasting yourself on his tongue. He pushed your back against the desk, unbuckling his pants and pulling out his cock before running the tip of it against your wet core.

“Please..” You squirmed against him in an attempt to get him to comply.

Tommy smirked. “What is it you want, huh?” You moaned in response, hips rocking up. Tommy’s hand made his way to your neck, holding it firmly yet not hard enough to bruise. “I wanna hear you say it, sweetheart. Maybe then I’ll give it to you.”

“Sir, please,” you cried out, hips still undulating. “I want your cock inside me.”

Tommy’s eyes dilated and he pushed himself inside of you, snapping his hips against yours at an unbelievable pace. Your eyes rolled back into your head and you were seeing stars, but you wanted everything he was willing to give you. He hadn’t even claimed you, yet you were already his. Your moans echoed throughout the office as he fucked you faster, your hands gripping at the desk, then scratching at his back. He didn’t seem to care about the marks, as he buried his face in your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. You felt yourself coming close to the edge once again, and you tipped your head back, crying out as Tommy fucked you through your second, third, and fourth orgasm. He had you over the desk, up against the wall, even on the chair, and you didn’t care. You wanted it just as badly as he did. Finally, Tommy had you on your back on the couch, hand around your neck as he fucked you. Your eyes flickered up to meet his as you gasped.

“Please come in me, sir,” you gasped as Tommy grunted, setting an unrelenting pace.

“You’re mine,” he growled as he fucked into you. “Every inch. If I catch anyone here even looking at you, I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill them. You belong to me now, yeah?” He panted.

“I’m all yours,” you moaned at the thought.

“Mine,” he groaned, his cock twitching before he released inside of you, cum dripping down the backs of your thighs. It felt dirty, but you didn’t care. Tommy Shelby could make a mess of you in front of the entire World’s Fair and you wouldn’t protest.

After a moment of delirious silence, Tommy stood, lighting a cigarette and offering one to you. You took it graciously as he sat next to you, leaning back into the crushed velvet.

“So,” he said, blue eyes looking into yours, “I ripped your garters.” He reached into his discarded pants’ pocket, pulling out a 10 pound note from a huge stack and offering it to you.

“So you can buy new ones,” he spoke, taking a drag from his cigarette.

You accepted it, taking a drag from your cigarette. “So, would this make me a whore now?”

Tommy chuckled. “We’re all whores, Y/N. We just sell different parts.” He took a puff from his cigarette, exhaling softly. “But now, you’re with me. You’re going to have to get used to nicer things, yeah?” His eyes traced your figure before coming back to yours, smiling softly.

“If you say so, Mr. Shelby,” you smiled shyly before putting your cigarette out in the ashtray on the table and retrieving your discarded clothing from around the room, putting it on one piece at a time. You could feel Tommy’s eyes on you as he drank from his glass, and you liked it. Before you could start to make your way to the door, Tommy quickly pressed you up against his desk in a passionate kiss.

He broke the kiss, smirking slightly. “I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”

You looked up at him inquisitively. “But I haven’t even given you my number.”

Tommy grinned. “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll get it,” he said, eyes drifting after your figure as you headed for the door. Before you left, you looked up into his ice blue eyes. “Goodnight, Mr. Shelby,” you smiled.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Tommy responded. You closed the door behind you, taking a deep breath after you left his office, already craving his touch on you again.

Tommy Shelby was going to be the goddamn death of you.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders smut #john shelby smut

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nashibirne · 3 years

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London Calling - 1

Yes, I'm still in my August phase and I'm not even sorry...I just can't stop thinking about the sexy mf and so this idea crossed my mind and turned into a storyline. I have to admit I'm even more nervous about posting this than usual because it's a little different from what I've written before and I really hope it's not going to bore the shit out of you. If you like this although the tension between August and my ofc builds slowly, please let me know. I appreciate every single comment, reblog and/or like! Thanks 💜

Pairing: Augut Walker x OFC (Lu Johnson)

Words: ~3.0 k

Summary and A/N: This story plays with the thought of "what if…" What if August Walker had taken another road? What if he had turned into John Lark for completely different reasons? What if he had found love before becoming a bitter, disillusioned man?So the events of "London Calling" take place about ten years prior to MI:Fallout and August Walker hasn't joined the CIA yet, he's an FBI Agent and his new mission in London that lies ahead of him is going to be a challenging one. Maybe it's even going to change his life.

Warnings: 18+! This story deals with the topic of a toxic/abusive relationship, gaslighting and problematic behavior of one of the protagonists in general. Please don't read if these topics trigger you or make you feel uncomfortable. Luckily I've never been in any kind of toxic or abusive relationship, so I lack personal experience but I hope still do this sensitive topic justice.

English is not my mother tongue but the lovely @sillyrabbit81 was so kind to be my very helpful and patient Beta! Thank you so, so much, bunny 🐇💜 You have no idea how much I appreciate your support, your encouragement, your help and the fact that you took the time to proofread this. (Edited by me, so there might still be mistakes and they're all mine)

📖 You can find my other fics on my Masterlist 📖

Credits: I don't own August Walker or anything related to MI:Fallout. Pics for the moodboard from pinterest, face claims: Lu - Hannah van der Westhuysen, Adam - Freddie Thorpe. FaceApp helped me with making August look a little younger

Taglist

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfanfics101 @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84 @sillyrabbit81 @emelinelovesjc @wheretheriversrunintothesea @lam0ureuxq @kingliam2019 @pandaxnienke

So...now...off we go...story under the cut!

"London? Are you kidding me, Kyle?"

August Walker stopped pacing the room with an incredulous frown. He raised his eyebrows, his blue eyes fixed on the other man's face.

"Absolutely not," his superior and close friend of many years said slowly, drawling both words more than necessary to stress that he wasn't joking. "They want you in London."

"What about my promotion? You gave me your word. You wanted me to finish Operation Old Bridge and that's what I did. You wanted Tony Salerno's head on a silver platter, that's what you got."

August's voice was surprisingly calm, his expression blank but his gaze was blazing with anger and frustration. His hands were balled into fists and he only opened them to lean on Kyle's wooden desk, which was very tidy, except for the piles of case files that slowly grew larger than him.

"Damn, Kyle, I risked my life when I went undercover and joined this Mafia mob."

"I know, August, but unfortunately my hands are tied. Interpol wants our best undercover Agent and that's you. Just this last job and afterwards you can happily join the CIA." SSA Kyle Langdon leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his neck with a sigh and an apologetic shrug.

"That's exactly what you said last time. Do you expect me to believe you?"

"As I said, it's not my doing. Manchester contacted Bill because the NCB needs help, blue notice, August. You know that we cannot say no and that means...London calling, man," Kyle pointed out with a smile. "You should be grateful, it's a great opportunity. So just do your job there, return and get your promotion."

"Why don't you just send someone else and I get my promotion right now? We have many great undercover agents. Craig for example. He's crazy about British pussies. He'll love London." August straightened his tall body before crossing his arms in front of his broad chest that was forced into a white button down shirt and a black suit jacket.

"No, Craig cannot go because they want you in this operation. They asked explicitly for Agent August Walker. That's a huge appreciation of your work and a big compliment. You're only 27, August, not many FBI agents are this well known and respected at such a young age." Kyle sat up straight, mirroring August's body language.

"I don't give a shit about their respect and appreciation. I know my worth and I know I'm your best agent. I've worked very hard to get where I stand now... just one step away from becoming a CIA agent," August said angrily, his brows furrowed, his eyes dark. "Fuck, Kyle...why use an American agent in a purely British matter in the first place? They could easily…"

"Listen, August," Kyle cut in and he got up and walked around his desk to face his friend, "the thing is, I am not asking you to do this, okay? It's not a request, it's an order. There's no room to negotiate."

He gave him a friendly smile to temper his words before placing a hand on August's shoulder. "No hard feelings. It's…"

"It's the job. Yeah. I know." August took a step back and nodded his head slowly, curling his lip. He had heard his boss say these words so many times and he hated that line although he was perfectly aware that it was the truth. That was the way it worked. They got orders, they did the job, no matter what. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment, feeling a bad headache brewing behind his forehead.

"I have already talked to Sloane about this. Erica seconds the motion by Interpol because she wants you to prove yourself in another operation abroad. If you are successful you will be part of her team. It's simple, Walker. Just don't fuck this up."

"I've never fucked anything up,” August snarled, clenching his teeth, his jaw grinding.

"See, that's exactly why they want you,” Kyle answered with a triumphant smile.

****

"Lu!" Adam Mayfield knocked impatiently on the bathroom door. "Get ready. We're going to be late." He glanced at his Rolex with an annoyed sigh before he straightened his tuxedo jacket and adjusted his bow tie for the umpteenth time. "God damn, this meeting is important." He banged his fist against the door again and rolled his eyes when he heard her muffled voice behind the bathroom walls. "Just a minute, Adam."

Although he was really a little angry that it took her so long to get ready, they weren't actually late, in fact there was more than enough time to meet up with his clients at The London Opera. He had just said that to make her hurry up. Lu had the tendency to dawdle around, she got easily distracted and it was his responsibility to help her with that bad habit and usually it worked well.

Compared to the woman she was when they had met at a party more than five years ago, she had improved her behavior a lot, thanks to his efforts and his strict education. She had been common as muck when they started dating, an ordinary working class girl, smart but not a bit sophisticated, pretty but with no sense of fashion or taste, ambitious but without any connections. He had changed that, he had moulded her into the beautiful, stylish, refined and cultured woman she was now. She was his work, his success, his pride...she was his.

When the door of the bathroom that was adjacent to the master bedroom finally swung open, the welcoming sight of his fiancee interrupted his thoughts and picked up his spirits immediately.

"Wow, this was worth the wait." He eyed her up and down with a smirk and leaned in for a kiss but she stopped him with her hands pressed against his narrow chest.

"No, you're gonna ruin my make-up, darling." Lu smiled at him and spinned around to present him her dress. The black, belted Burberry gown was elegant and classy. High-necked on the front but with a low back that showed off lots of her perfect, lightly tanned skin. Chaste and sexy at the same time, just the way Adam liked it.

"That dress is stunning, baby. You look wonderful." He grabbed her by her waist and pulled her close to leave a sensual kiss on her slim neck while his hands wandered to her ass where they rested for a moment before they squeezed her firm cheeks. "I really hope you're not wearing any panties."

Lu freed herself from his embrace with a frown and stepped in front of the large wall mirror opposite of their king-size bed to check her reflection one last time, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Of course I'm wearing panties. We're going to the opera with your VIP clients." She walked to her dressing table and took the diamond-encrusted, leaf-shaped brooch Adam had given her for their five years anniversary on New Year's Eve. "Would you help me with this?"

Adam took the piece of jewelry from her slim hand and pinned it carefully on her dress, right above her heart. He kissed her tenderly but his expression was stern when he spoke. "Strip it off."

Lu's eyes grew wide. "What?"

"You heard me. Get rid of your thong. I know you're wearing one of these slutty, tiny g-strings to make sure your look is flawless and your underwear doesn't show under your dress." His face hardened slightly, yet his voice remained soft and smooth.

"But…"

"Don't test me, Lu,” he said slowly, still smiling but screwing up his beautiful grey eyes. "I want you naked underneath that dress in case I want to have a little fun with you tonight. I mean, we both know Rigoletto is gonna be boring as fuck, we may need a little distraction." He gave her a lewd smirk and with a tiny frown and a raise of his brows he motioned her to be obedient. "You don't want anything to get in my way, do you? Not even a little piece of lace, right?"

"Of course not, Adam," she answered softly with a smile she had to force onto her lips. Lu reached under her dress with shaking hands and pulled down her panties till they hit the floor so she could step out of them carefully, making sure they wouldn't get tangled up in her stiletto heels.

"Good girl," Adam said with a wolfish grin and with a sly smile he added, "you know what, baby? I think I'm going to have a little fun with you just now. My clients can wait."

Lu didn't even try to argue with him, knowing exactly that she was in a no-win situation. She closed her eyes and turned around, lifting up her dress, when she heard him unzip his fly.

****

While Adam Mayfield was fucking his fiancee in front of a mirror in one of the most exclusive penthouses in London, August Walker was having a bad coffee, sitting at a table in the plain and pretty ugly meeting room of their FBI department at the J. Edgar Hoover Building in Washington DC, listening to the explanations of Kyle and the lead of 'Operation Brutus', Christine Carpenter. He didn't like her much but he respected her competence and her leadership qualities and most of all he trusted her with giving him the perfect fake identity for the job in London.

"So, what do you have for me, Chris?" August looked at her with a smile, but his eyes gave away that he'd rather be somewhere else.

"Well, let me just explain the background first, okay?"

She pressed a button on her laptop and the handsome face of a young man appeared on the screen behind her.

"This", she nodded at the picture, "is Adam Arthur Clive Mayfield, 27 years old, only son of Alfred Mayfair and his late wife Erica, heir of the immense family fortune and the private bank Mayfield & Holmes, that was established by his ancestors more than 200 years ago. He is one of the most eligible bachelors in the United Kingdom, and one of the richest, too. His father officially still runs the family business but he isn't in the best state of health, so in fact Mayfield junior is the one who's at the helm. Unlike his father he's not a man of integrity, he's been on the radar of the British authorities for years. From dealing drugs and other minor crimes in his college years to insider trading, investor fraud, misappropriation and money laundering nowadays. He is a big fish, has connections all over the world, drug rings, gun runners, human traffickers, you name it."

"And the Brits are not able to catch him without my help?" August couldn't help but smirk cockily.

"Don't be so full of yourself, Walker. The problem is, he is a damn genius. IQ score beyond 150, very clever, very cautious, a strategic mastermind, always ahead of the authorities. They tried to infiltrate his business a few times but they failed miserably, so now they want to concentrate on his private life."

"And this is gonna be my part?"

"Exactly," Kyle said, getting up to join Christine in front of the screen. "He has a few bodyguards he always hires from an American agency. They are known for their discretion and loyalty and the bodyguards they place with their clients are the best of the best. Unfortunately one of his bodyguards died in an accident a week ago and now he needs a new one. Luckily, we have the owner of the agency by the balls for several major crimes. He cooperates or he will end up behind bars for the rest of his life."

"To cut a long story short, he will place you with Mayfield and you can become part of his daily life. Your job consists of monitoring and collecting information and data. I will give you an exact briefing later," Christine finished Kyle's explanations.

"So I will just be his lapdog?"

"Not his," Kyle grinned, "hers."

The picture on the screen changed, now showing a young, blonde woman. The second he saw her, he judged her.

He could tell what she was like, just by her looks, by the way she jutted her chin in the picture, by her perfectly manicured fingers, by her flawless make up and the expensive clothes. He knew women like her, a walking stereotype, the blond, beautiful Trophy Wife Barbie that's always by Millionaire Ken's side. Pretty on the outside, boring on the inside. Lame bimbos that only lived for showing off their designer clothes and it-bags, tripping around in high heels that cost more than he earned in a month, finding self-fulfilment in stupid things like designing overpriced furniture, running a yoga studio or doing charity stuff. Useless, needless but still blueprints for millions of girls who would literally give the shirt off their backs to catch themselves a rockstar, a famous actor, a hyped football player or just a rich heir.

"This is Mayfield's fiancee," Kyle said, pointing at the photo, "you're gonna be her personal bodyguard."

"How am I supposed to monitor him, when I have to be on her heels all the time?"

"You're gonna live with them, there will be lots of opportunities. Just make her trust you, we need her to open up, get her to talk. They've been together for years, she should know what he's involved in," Chris explained and she made it sound easy when in fact it wasn't only hard to gain a stranger's trust, in this case it was even dangerous.

"Alright. Tell me about her."

"Her name is Lucretia Johnson, 24 years old," Kyle started reading the memo.

"Lucretia?" August let out an amused snort.

"Yeah," Kyle grinned, "her mother seems to have a preference for strange names, her younger sister's called Petronilla."

"What the fuck?" August laughed out loud. "Is she some kind of Latin professor or something?"

"Well, first of all she's dead," Christine took over with a serious look on her face, she was notorious for her lack of humour, "and secondly, no, she was not a professor. She was an alcoholic and a complete mess. An irresponsible, uncaring mother who spent too much time fucking around and too little time taking care of her daughters. Petronilla was taken away from her when she was 15 and was handed over to youth welfare. Lucretia was 18 at the time and lived on the campus of the Chelsea College of Art and Design."

"So she's an artist, huh?" August knew the ridicule in his voice wasn't very professional but he just couldn't help it.

"Maybe, at least she has a master degree in curating and owns a little gallery in Covent Garden. Well, actually Mayfield owns it, she just runs it."

"So, to sum it up, she's made it from the daughter of a drunkard to the fiancee of one of the richest heirs in the kingdom. She's fucked her way to the top. I guess that's all I need to know about her."

"Don't be so sure, August. She seems to be smart," Kyle threw in, "I think there's more to her than the pretty face. It's just a gut feeling but I guess you'll find out soon enough."

August took a deep breath, rolling his eyes at Kyle. "Sure. She's the saint that sleeps with the devil."

"That's not what I said, mate. But whatever she is, you'll have to deal with it."

"What's my cover, Christine?" August wanted to know.

"Well, your alias was born in 1981, just like you, but on the fifth of May. Born and raised in Portland, Maine. Only child, mother deceased, not on speaking terms with his father, a mechanic who still lives in Portland. You can find the details of your early life and your family tree in the memo," she waved the file above her head before she continued. "Careerwise...ex military, ex cop, had some problems following the rules and respecting the law. Single, no ex-wifes, no kids. We kept it plain and simple. They will not dig deep anyway. According to the agency boss, Mayfield expects his bodyguards to be disciplined, always on duty, quiet and discreet. There's three of you. Benjamin Garner is Mayfield's watchdog and his personal assistant, Edward Landow was Johnson's guard you're gonna replace, Andrew Brown is the back-up. You and Garner live with them, Brown lives nearby with his girlfriend. There's other staff of course, a housekeeper, a cook, cleaners. No chauffeur, no butler, no assistant, that's all part of your job."

"Great," August let out an annoyed snort, "so basically I'm gonna be her servant."

"Basically," Chris fixed her gaze on August, "you're not gonna leave her side unless you're told to. Just be professional, stay in the background, prick up your ears, listen closely and be careful. No obvious nosing around. Their penthouse is a high tech fortress, including video monitoring, so just…"

"I know how to work undercover," August cut in impatiently, "just gimme that fucking file and let me do my job."

Christine gave him a pissed look but she handed him the document with a shrug and without further comment. August grabbed it from her hands, staring at the data of his new life, his new name and the composite sketch of his new look. He would have to stop shaving.

*****

tbc

#henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker x ofc #slow burn

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darkorderaf · 3 years

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hey there! could i please suggest ''we shouldn't do this'' but they do so from the fictional kiss list for chuck taylor? maybe a little friends to lover scenario ‘cause i’m trash for that. thanks in advance!

Ohhhh yes, absolutely. I love friends to lovers AND Chuck Taylor so I’m all about it. Please enjoy~

Pairing: Chuck Taylor x OFC. Prompts: “We shouldn’t do this” but they do so, anyway. Rating: T. Warnings/Content: None; just fluff! Word Count: 1,289.

(I don’t own gif; credit to hurricanranabaybay!)

“Really guys? How old are we?”

She wrote down Truth or Dare and tore off the strip of paper. She raised her brow and Trent shrugged, straight-faced. Chuck rattled off a couple more suggestions. Beer pong, flip cup. Every drinking game in their repertoire.

“Not that old to where we don’t know how to have fun anymore, grandma,” Trent intoned. He wiggled the TV remote in his hand. “Do you want me to put your stories on?”

She leered at him and tugged her cardigan closer around her. Damn it, that wasn’t helping. She shrugged it off and set it aside. Chuck laughed loud beside her and she gently dug her elbow into his side. He and Trent always joked about her grandpa cardigans. Hell, Chuck had even bought her a couple. He looked over at her, his head leaned back against the couch as he idly played NBA 2K22.

“You want anything?”

She framed her chin with her fingers and made a thoughtful sound.

“Grandma could use a drink, sure,” she said. He paused his game and snorted. He transitioned Walter to her lap and she gave the dog a gentle scratch along his back. Chuck stretched up, then went to the kitchen. She called out to him. “Thank you, sonny.”

A knock lit up the door. Orange slightly lifted his head from the recliner and set it back down. Trent grunted as he got up and went to the door. The whole roster’s weekend was wide open and that meant a party at the Best Friends. Half of the Dark Order trickled in and with the energy of John Silver, things kicked up.

She was on her second drink when game suggestions started to get thrown around. They had planned for this and she got up to grab the hat. She tottered a little but Chuck’s hand was on the small of her back to keep her stable. He held it there for a moment as she righted herself and smiled a thank you his way. Neither of them saw it but Trent eyed them carefully. Then grinned to himself.

“Johnny, do us the honors?”

She held the hat in front of John, who made a big show of digging around before he pulled out a strip. Before he read it out, he downed his drink.

“Truth or dare, fuckers! Grab that White Claw, Alex, we’re spinning that biiiiitch.”

The party accumulated in a shape vaguely similar to a circle around the coffee table. The dares and truths were relatively innocent and uneventful. For them, at least. I dare you to handstand for two minutes. I dare you to eat that. I dare you to take that body shot. Chuck was saying something to her about how Alan was looking a little green after his drink but their laughter stalled when the bottle landed on her.

“Truth or dare?”

Kris asked, her head tilted to the side. Trent’s eyes lit up and he leaned to murmur something into her ear.

“Oh, human games are so interesting,” Kris said and then turned her attention back to the woman of the hour. “Truth or dare.”

“Dare.”

The answer was an immediate, fearless one. Trent hid a knowing grin behind his drink and everyone leaned in to see what the dare would be.

“I dare you to sit in that closet,” Kris started and pointed to the one in the hallway. Then she pointed at Chuck. “With Chuck Taylor for ten minutes.”

“What?” She said, her hand raised by her side. Chuck’s head snapped over to look at Trent. “That’s seven minutes in heaven with a couple minutes added, that’s a different game!”

“Three minutes added. A dares a dare, dude,” Trent said and received resounding nods of approval. John glanced between the two and at the sight of things kicking up, started to laugh maniacally. Preston quieted him with a slap to his chest. “So, you gonna do it or not?”

“Of course I am,” she said. Her and Chuck were good friends. It wouldn’t be that hard to sit in a closet with him. “Seven minutes? Consider it done.”

Chuck helped her up from her seat and they headed towards the closet. They faded into the dark with middle fingers up to Trent.

She had been so confident in her answer that she hadn’t considered that even though they were playing a kid’s game, the closet was NOT kid sized. Their attempts to maneuver themselves and get comfortable ended up with Chuck on the floor and her partially in his hand, her back against the wall. The world went quiet around them. His hand settled on her knee for a second then slipped away.

“You can…” Chuck started, his voice thick in his throat. “You can, uh, sit on me. On my lap. If that’s better. I know you get back pains and shit, so…”

Jesus, they were adults and best friends. This shouldn’t have been that awkward.

“Are you sure?”

“Yup.”

He said it so quickly she almost didn’t hear it but then she heard a patting sound that made her flush. It was Chuck. She trusted Chuck. She reached forward and his hands were in hers, helping her find her way to him. The closet left little room for space, her legs on either side of his hips and his hands cautiously on her thighs.

“Eight minutes left!”

It had only been two minutes? She swallowed and she heard Chuck laugh softly to himself. His fingers nervously flexed around her. Even in the dark, she could feel his eyes on her.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m...fine,” she whispered. “How are you?”

“Trent’s a real dick sometimes, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said. Chuck was close enough that she could feel his breath on her neck. “Sometimes.”

Her arms went around his neck and she leaned in closer against him. The apartment was cold and she was without her cardigan. He felt so warm against her, his hands on her a comfort and a tease. Shit. He seemed to have the same though, the breath on her neck traveling up to her cheek. Then light puffs against her lips.

“I really, really want to kiss you,” he said. “But it’s a really, really bad idea.”

“Yeah,” she said. His lips edged closer to where she could feel them brush against hers. “A really bad one.”

“The worst.”

His hands slipped up from her thighs to her waist.

“Uh-huh.”

Her fingers trailed up and into his hair.

“We shouldn’t--”

“Nope--”

Her lips found his first and he slotted against her as if he had been waiting for it. His large hands splayed across her back and pulled her in close. They fumbled for a moment, both nervous and unsure, but found their footing like naturals. Like they knew each other inside and out. They broke apart, breathless, but quickly found each other again. They took it slow, mapped each other out. Chuck groaned when she bit his lip and she sighed when he lightly squeezed her ass against him. Neither were worried about the time and neither seemed to consider what this might mean for them when that door opened.

Trent might have been a dick but his intuition was flawless. As was his timing. They broke apart just as he swung the door open, a small smirk on his face.

“How were your ten minutes, you crazy kids?”

The two of them looked at each other, too sheepish to answer.

“Yup, I had a feeling.”

He stepped aside to let them out and they returned to loud, drunken cheering. Orange picked his head up long enough to toss them a lazy thumbs up. They were kind enough to return it.

#chuck taylor imagine #chuck taylor fic #chuck taylor fanfiction #aew imagine #aew fic #aew fanfiction #wrestling imagine #wrestling fic

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 3 years

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Going Back Home

Summary: Claire never thought she would be back in the town she grew up in. But after her fiancé broke off their engagement, leaving her 5 months pregnant and alone she found herself calling Frankie Morales in the middle of the night, one of her childhood friends who insisted that she booked the next flight out. Trying to fix her life with a little help from her friends she would find out soon that going back would be the best decision she ever made.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Claire Beck

wordcount: 3.1k

Warnings: more or less unplanned pregnancy, break up, mentions of sexual encounters

A/N: I am a weak weak person so here it is, a chaptered fic. I will try to update this weekly, but no promises. Rating will go up later. I'm attempting slow burn. Let's see how slow lol Let me know what you think. Reblogs are, as always, appreciated 💙

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Even Though most of her happiest memories were connected with this town, the town she spent most of her life in, Claire never thought she actually would be back here. And certainly not pregnant and all by herself.

It wasn’t that she had been unhappy here. Claire just always wanted something… bigger. Something more. Something exciting. After her parents died and most of her friends moved away, there was nothing holding her back. Well, that wasn’t true. Frankie and Santiago were there. But only when they weren’t overseas or god knows where, which left her with her dream of being a journalist in a small town where she had no chance to ever make it.

She still remembered Santi’s face when she announced that it was her turn to leave just before they were about to be gone for months again. She had gotten a job in New York and thought for days about what to do until she took the job. That was eight years ago and they hadn’t seen each other in person since then.

Yet when she called Frankie three days ago in tears, it was like no time had passed. She wanted to call Santiago first, but she knew him. If she had told him what happened to her he would have gotten into his car and gotten to her, no matter if it took 3 straight days. No, she had called Frankie. He had listened to her for hours until he made her promise to book the next flight out.

When the fuck did her life become such a shit show?

Only a week ago, she had the dream job, was engaged and 5 months pregnant.

Claire was happy. Until her fiance came back from a work trip and suddenly announced that he wanted nothing to do with the child and moved out within days, leaving her on her own. Not even his phone number was working and she wasn’t gonna show up at his work. She wasn’t that desperate. She should have seen it coming. John never planned to have kids. But when Clarie found out that she was pregnant he had already asked her to marry him and maybe he was too proud to end the engagement back then. Thinking back maybe this was the reason he stayed. Because a part of him wanted to spend his life with her. They didn’t fight. He just moved out, told her that he would take care financially of her and the child, but that he didn’t want to be a father.

The first days she was just numb. Trying to wrap her mind around the fact that the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with, left her while she was pregnant with a child they didn’t plan but that she loved without a doubt. That was what kept her going. Her little bean. Claire would do anything to protect her little girl.

The guys to this day called her bean. She found herself thinking more of them since John left. Even without seeing them in the last years, they still stayed in contact. Not a week went by where she didn’t receive a letter. They had a group chat that was only used when they were at home and the bachelor was on. Cause fuck did they all hate that show but they watched it anyways.

Claire was okay with the whole suddenly being on her own thing, until she felt her baby move for the first time and turned in her bed to wake her fiance, finding the side empty and cold. For one tiny moment, she had forgotten that she was alone in a city where she had only a couple of friends who were his friends rather than hers. She had always had a hard time finding friends. That probably wouldn’t change.

Sucking her bottom lip in, she rested one hand on her belly as she waited for her luggage to arrive. She slept almost through the entire flight. Claire had gotten rid of the last eight years of her life in the last 48 hours. She wanted to start fresh. She needed a fresh start. Even if she had no idea how to deal with all of this on her own.

A woman next to her helped her get her suitcases on the cart, noticing that Claire was on her own. Pushing the cart through security she saw Frankie as soon as the door opened and next to him Ben, Will and Santiago who all smiled at her, while she felt the first tears escaping her eyes.

She had met Ben and Will only a couple times, they were living an hour away, but they became part of the group immediately. Once upon a time her childhood best friend, Leah, was in that group too. Claire hadn’t thought of Leah in a long time. She had died in a car accident almost 12 years ago.

Arms pulled her in a warm embrace and even after years of not seeing each other for such a long time, she still noticed Frankie’s scent.

“We got you,” he whispered, kissing her hair. She sobbed once before she was pulled into Santi’s arms.

“Look at you,” he smiled before he looked down at her belly.

“And look at you?” he smiled and leaned down.

“Hello, this is your favorite Uncle speaking,” he winked, bending down to speak directly to her belly, making her chuckle.

“Oh please, we all know I’m gonna be the favorite, hey bean,” Will hugged her.

“Don’t listen to them baby girl, we know they're all gonna spoil you rotten,” she grinned, letting Ben kiss her cheek.

“So you’re staying?” Frankie asked and you nodded.

“I already called some realtors. I wanna get this over as quickly as possible. Already sold everything back in New York,” Claire said, looking at the two men who formed most of her teenage years.

“Okay. Let’s get you out of this airport first. You okay to stay with Frankie? He has the biggest house,” Santiago asked, pushing the cart as you slowly walked towards the exit with Ben’s arm around her shoulder.

“Uh… I don’t wanna impose. I could just take a room…”

“Fuck no. Stay at my place. It’s my Pa’s old ranch. I’m renovating it.”

“What? No way!” she said surprised but Frankie only nodded.

“Yeah after Liz and South America I needed something to keep me busy. Also needed more space for Elena,” he explained. A small smile sneaked to Claire’s face.

“I still can’t believe you’re a dad Frankie.”

“Can’t believe you gonna be a mom. Fuck we’re really adults now, huh?” he winked and Claire sighed.

“Certainly didn’t plan it that way. Or planned it at all,” she said sadly before she shook her head as if to get rid of the sad thoughts clouding her mind.

“I meant it, Claire. We got you. We are bored most times anyways.”

“Hey speak for yourself, Fish. I got a business,” Santi said.

“Yeah. Yeah. Me too. But after work you’re either drunk or after some pussy so?” Ben grinned, making her chuckle.

“So still no ladies in your life, boys?” Claire asked as they reached what definitely was Frankie’s truck. It had his company name on it. “Morales gardening”

“Nope. But now that you’re here we could finally….” Will started only for Claire to look away in disgust, making them all laugh.

“You ready to become a Daddy, Will?” she asked, her hands both on her belly.

“Uhm… of course?” he answered and she chuckled.

“That’s what I thought,” she patted his cheek.

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted,” Frankie said and opened the door for her.

“We’ll see you tomorrow for the BBQ,” they all waved. She waved back, letting Frankie help her inside before he closed the door behind her and hopped into the driver’s seat.

“BBQ?” she asked.

“Can’t blame the folks from wanting to welcome you, bean,” he winked.

“What folks?”

“Ya know. Folks. You gonna see,” he looked at Claire. He felt better now that she was here. Frankie had missed her these last years, the couple of calls throughout hadn’t nearly been enough. And when she called two days ago in tears… He would have gotten the chopper and flown over but he couldn’t risk it. He had to be on good behaviour to be able to keep seeing his daughter.

“I missed you, Francisco,” she whispered.

“Missed you too, Bean.”

The sun was already setting when Frankie drove down a familiar path. Claire had spent countless days on this ranch when she was younger.

“How is your Dad doing?” she asked softly and Frankie sighed as he killed the engine in front of the house.

“I fucking hate that I can’t take care of him on my own, but he’s hanging in there.”

“I’d like to visit him if you’re okay with that,” she reached over squeezing his hand and he looked at her with a small smile.

“I bet he would love that.”

“And I’m sure he would have wanted it this way, Francisco. You know your dad. He wouldn’t have wanted you to drop everything for him. Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she said quietly.

“Damn I really missed you Bean,” he shook his head.

“Missed you too,” she let her head fall against his shoulder.

Claire didn’t really have eyes for the house, all she wanted was to go to sleep.

“I finished the guest room this morning for you,” Frankie said, setting one of her suitcases down as he opened the door.

“Please tell me you didn’t work overnight to finish this,” she sighed looking at him. He was rubbing the back of his head, pulling the cap he was always wearing down and avoiding her eyes.

Knowingly she shook her head, but couldn’t help the smile sneaking to her face.

“I won’t say it. But please don’t touch the walls, they might still be wet,” he said and she chuckled.

“Okay. Bathroom is over there. The shower isn’t working yet but you’re welcome to use mine. Will is coming over to take a look and make this one work. Other than that if you need anything just ask. Until you found a place this is your home.”

“You really didn’t have to do this, Frankie,” she said quietly, feeling overwhelmed by all of this. So many things had changed in such a short amount of time for her and she only now seemed to realize that she was indeed about to be a single mom.

“I wanted to. You’re… You don’t deserve to be treated like this. So let us help you, okay?” he said softly and she nodded but avoided his eyes.

“Okay. Go to sleep. My room is down the hallway if you need anything,” he stepped closer, kissing her forehead and for one tiny moment, she felt like the 15 year old teenager again who was crushing on Frankie Morales.

“Good night, Francisco,” she smiled.

“Good night, bean,” he whispered before he turned around and closed the door behind him.

Claire looked around, in awe of the room, the bed looking so inviting to her. Sighing she walked over to the window, knowing she would be able to see the whole property during the day. Crossing her arms in front of her she closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of nature that she had no idea she had missed living in the city for all these years. She felt a fluttering in her belly, her hand wandering down to feel a kick.

“We’ll be happy here, I promise,” she vowed, rubbing over her belly.

She didn’t want to disturb Frankie, even though she could hear the TV running so she just washed herself at the sink before she put her Pajamas on and sat down on the bed. She would unpack tomorrow. For now she had to sleep.

The sun wasn’t even up when Claire woke up. She turned in bed, propping herself up so she could look out the window and watch the sunrise. She had to make a plan. A plan that included finding a house, a doctor and help. Though help would be her smallest problem. She already looked at houses in the area and it didn’t look good. If she had more time she would buy the house just down this road, but there was no way the house would be ready before her due date. She would ask Santi for help. He had a lot of connections through his business. Though Frankie too. Claire knew that he had a little gardening company since he lost his pilot’s license. He never really talked about it, but then again, they didn’t talk that much. She knew that he had some problems with drugs in the past, but that he has been clean for almost two years and was doing better. She also knew that there was a lot more to this story then he had told her. Maybe they would have time to talk. To really talk. Groaning to herself, her quiet and peaceful morning was interrupted by her bladder. Time to start the day.

For a minute she wondered if she could risk sneaking into Frankie’s room to take a shower when she heard music playing. Grabbing her bathrobe and toiletries she opened the door and walked down. Now being really awake she had time to take in the house. It seemed like there still was a lot to do. The walls were still unpainted, the floors still old, though she could see he already started with the floor the closer she got to the kitchen.

Frankie was sitting at the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in front of him as the radio quietly played in the background. He had a serious case of bed hair and she smiled to herself. He hadn’t noticed her yet and she found herself thinking back to all the times she had thought that maybe there was something more in between them than friendship. And maybe there was at one point a long time ago. But that was before he joined the military. She might be selfish for it, but she couldn’t be in a relationship where her partner was gone all the time. She needed someone to be there. Even Though there had been times in the past she had found herself asking if maybe she should have risked it.

Instead she had slept with Santiago.

Yeah, that was a big fuck up. Well it was also a pretty good fuck but it was just once and they definitely were better off as friends. She still didn’t know if Frankie knew. Not that she had to explain herself. Frankie always knew what effect he had on the women around him, and he sure as hell took advantage of it. And now she felt nothing more than love for him. As a friend, nothing more.

“Good Morning,” she said quietly and Frankie turned his head, yawning at her.

Chuckling she walked over taking in the kitchen, setting her toiletries down.

“You weren’t kidding when you say you were still renovating,” she sat down next to him. He got up from his seat walking over to fix her a mug of tea.

“Still hooked on Strawberry tea, I hope?” he asked and she nodded, surprised that he remembered.

“Yeah. Though the kitchen and living room are supposed to be finished by the end of next week. So sorry for the noise in the next couple days,” he walked over and set down the mug of tea in front of her.

“Hey it’s your house. I’m just thankful you let me stay.”

“Of course. Couldn’t let you stay in the dumpster motel in this town,” he winked. She took a sip of the tea and it was perfect.

“So what are you planning for today?” he asked.

“I probably should start looking into houses. I’m kind of on a timetable here,” she rested one hand on her belly and Frankie followed her movement.

“Yeah. I think Pope already called someone for some houses. It’s not looking good.”

“Yeah I thought so. Everything I found on the internet was in really bad shape,” she sighed.

“It’s gonna work out. And if you don’t find something, you’re welcome to stay. The place is big enough,” he shrugged and Claire laughed quietly.

“Yeah I bet you can’t wait to live with a hormonal pregnant woman and then with a newborn,” she joked.

“I lived with Pope. Nothing can be worse and…”

“And?” she asked.

“I already lived with a hormonal pregnant woman. It’s not that bad,” he shrugged with a small smile. She looked at him with a small smile on her face.

“You say that now. Wait till I’m craving your mug cake at 3am now that I’m living with you,” she joked. Frankie laughed.

“Wow I haven’t had one of those in at least 10 years.”

“Well then it’s about time.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, looking at Claire. She looked more relaxed today, like she had a good night’s sleep and he was thankful he put in an overnight to finish the guest room for her. She deserved to relax. When she told him that she not only was pregnant but dumped by her fiance Frankie was furious, yet at the same time he already decided that he would take care of her and help her with everything she needed. It was the least he could do.

Even though they grew apart in the last years, she still was one of his best friends.

“Okay. I’m gonna go take a shower. I got to drive out to check on a project. You gonna be okay here for a while?” Frankie asked. Claire nodded, grabbing her mug of tea.

“Just tell me when you’re going out so I can take a shower,” she said.

“Thank you, Frankie,” she whispered when she stopped next to him and softly kissed his cheek, before she walked down the hallway. Frankie looked after her with a soft smile before he got up to get ready to head out.

Next chapter

#my writing #going back home #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie morales x ofc #pedro pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #frankie morales fanfiction

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thran-duils · 3 years

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Lost in Zero Gravity (P.7)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Seven) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers. Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 2,118 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior Author’s Note: This is more fluffy smut. I needed some buffer before the next drama drops!

Part Six || Part Eight || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Steve was gone when you woke up. Probably for the best because you were still a little on edge about the name issue. Stretching, you looked at the clock. He left very early apparently because it was almost 6:00am now. You kicked the covers back and got out of bed.

Picking up your phone, you saw a text from Elisha. She wanted to see you and visit your place.

Texting Steve, you asked, Can I have someone over?

He did not respond for a few moments as you sat there waiting for the three dots to show up to show he was typing. Exhaling disappointed, you decided to go take a shower and tried to enjoy the warm water. When you got out and got dressed, he had still not responded.

A friend. Elisha. Not a john.You sent, hoping to clarify if there was any doubt about your intentions of having someone over.

That seemed to do the trick because he responded almost immediately as you walked towards the kitchen to make breakfast.

Soon. Get settled in first.

Sighing, you tossed your phone back onto the counter and went back to grabbing eggs out of the fridge.

<><><>

They had not visited for a couple days and you had enjoyed the solitude to be honest. No schedule, no one else taking up your space. You were standing in your kitchen in a lounge bra and your underwear, eating a bagel you had just toasted.

It was later than normal than you would wake up. The blame could lie at the feet of the fact you had stayed awake to the wee hours of the morning binge watching videos on your phone.

You noticed your phone light up as you took another bite. Chewing, you leaned forward, seeing it was Tony.

Get ready quick. We’re going to go get your cat.

You only sat there for a second before your face broke out into a smile and then you shoved your bagel in your mouth, finishing in a rush. It was short notice, but you were excited about the cat for one but also to get out of the apartment. You had been in here for a damn week.

Rushing to your room, you threw on some casual clothes. You stopped for a moment in front of your mirror and sucked in your bottom lip. Should you have something a little sexier on? You debated for a few seconds before you waved it off; this was to get a cat, not give a lap dance.

Tony arrived not more than thirty minutes later, and you were pacing, ready for him in the living room when he let himself in.

He stopped, narrowing his eyes at you. You asked, “What?”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans before, that’s all.” He dragged his eyes down and snapped them back up to meet yours. “The fit is nice.”

“Glad to know my outfit is approved. You’re also wearing jeans. Are we going?”

Tony chortled, “Impatient. After you.” He followed you out of the apartment, locking the door behind him.

Terrence was waiting in the hall and he asked, “Who is driving you today, boss?”

Tony told him, “I’m driving.”

Stalling your stride, you looked at him shocked. “You’re driving?”

“Yes, why do you look shocked? I can drive,” Tony told you, his arm slipping around your waist as he led you to the elevator. “I’m an adult, I have my license. I assure you.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you drive yet.”

“Seems like today is having a lot of firsts already.”

His car was waiting out front, one of his people keeping a watch out on it. They moved away as soon as they spotted him coming out. Tony came over to the car, opening the passenger door for you.

“A two-seater convertible?” you asked. “Really? You think the cat is gonna like that? Or me for that matter? Having to hold the carrier in my lap?”

Tony gestured you in, “Get in, baby. I’ve got someone following us.” He threw his hand up behind the car to the black SUV parked behind. The person who had been standing by the car was sitting in the driver’s seat. “They’ll bring the cat back with them. Enclosed space. I’m not a sadist. I just wanted to have a fun drive with you.”

You refrained from commenting about wasted gas as you did as he asked, him closing the door behind you and coming around the front of the car to get into the driver’s seat, adjusting his jacket.

“It is a nice car,” you admitted, buckling in. “What is it?”

“An Audi,” Tony said pressing the start.

“I saw that. I’m not an idiot, Tony. What model?”

Tony smiled at your scorn. “I know you’re not. A Spyder.”

You frowned, “I’m not sure I’m fond of that name—”

You yelped as he pulled away from the curb, shooting off into the road. Tony laughed amused at your reaction at the sudden movement.

“Oh, love, just wait until we get out onto the highway,” Tony smirked. “I’ll show off this engine for you.”

<><><>

“It’s pretty, but the hair,” you commented as Tony pointed out a Persian cat at the shelter.

Tony eyed the cat closely as you moved on.

“Oh my fucking god!” you said excitedly, coming up to the next cage to a cat already pressing its head against the gate for pets.

Tony came up next to you and said, “So what was that complaint about hair…?”

“Yeah, but this is a Maine Coon! A mix, but still.” You saw he looked confused, and you said firmly. “I want this one.” Tony rose his brows now, giving you a challenging look and you pressed, “They’ve got great personalities! I had one as a kid. They act like dogs but they’re just big ass fluffy cats! And look, it’s a Tuxedo!”

“The hair,” Tony repeated. “My suits. You know, I’m really rethinking this now…”

“You cannot tell me you brought me in here just to not take one home. That would just be cruel.”

Tony smacked his lips and said, “You’re right. Carry on. No white hair though.”

“She doesn’t have white hair. It’s browns and greys,” you pointed out as you continued petting the Maine Coon. “Look at the little marking on her forehead! And she likes me! You can’t leave her here now!”

He stared at you for a few seconds before closing his eyes and exhaling. You held back from bouncing on your heels, knowing you had broke him. You turned back fully to the cage and stuck your fingers back through, her brushing her head against your head in earnest.

“You’re coming home with me,” you told her excitedly.

<><><>

On the way back home, your arm reached across, your fingers tip toeing up Tony’s thigh. The wind was whipping around the two of you as he sped down the highway. You saw that the SUV had lost the two of you a while ago since Tony had kept passing people, weaving into the left lane to jerk back into the right lane around curves. The danger was hot and you wanted more.

Your fingers brushed his crotch and he shot you a quick look, shaking his head. You pouted and he said loudly over the wind, “No.”

“Have you ever had road head?”

“Are you really asking me that?”

You shrugged, “Just thought you would like it!”

“Yeah and if it’s on a drone or helicopter cam somehow – cause if you haven’t noticed, there’s no roof on this car – that I had some woman going down on me on the highway? How am I gonna explain that?”

“Don’t tell me you’re actually starting to grow a conscience, Tony.”

That drew a grin out of him, shooting you a mischievous look. He cleared his throat and pressed a button, giving a bit more space between his lap and the steering wheel. Second time breaking his resolve today. It did not seem to take much when it came to you.

Unbuckling yourself, you leaned over the middle console working on his zipper. You pulled his cock out of his jeans, running your hand up and down it sensually. He tasted like salt and sweat as you took him into your mouth, trying to help it along quicker. Tony groaned, and you felt him tense. You imagined his hands tightening on the wheel, trying to keep himself focused on the road.

“I gotta pull off,” he grunted.

This did not stop you from working your mouth up and down his dick. The car veered a little, into a highway pull off you concluded.

He pressed a button the steering wheel. He pulled you away from his dick, and blocked access. Or tried to. You moved down, running your tongue across his balls, flicking.

It was too much apparently.

“Give me 15 seconds,” he breathed at you, blocking you again from swallowing him. You kissed his hand, running your tongue up his fingers. His lips twitched despite himself and he cleared his throat roughly. He jerked his hand back, giving you a light, discouraging slap. You moved back then, and he leveled you with a look. Pouting, you laid your chin on his thigh. His hand came to run over your head before straightening up when a voice came over his speaker.

“Boss? Are you alright?”

“No, go on if you pass me. I’m pulled off. I’m fine. Just take the cat back.”

“It’s crying a lot because of the weaving highway.”

“I know it is, I can hear it.” That was not a lie; it’s whines were coming over the phone call. “I’ve got something to finish here though, so just go on. Like I said! I gotta go.”

As soon as he pressed the button on the steering wheel, he tapped your head. “Alright, resume, love.”

<><><>

When you got home, Tony encouraged you ahead; he needed to talk to Daryl really quick. When you got into the apartment, the cat was nowhere to be found. You took off, throwing your bag onto the counter, searching closets. You found her cowering under the bed up against the wall. You tried to coax her out with soft noises and holding your hand out but she just put her ears back, snuggling closer to the wall.

Tony’s footfalls came down the hall and you heard him come into the bedroom.

Pushing yourself up from underneath the bed, you came up onto your knees.

“She’s hiding,” you told him, standing up.

“Maybe try with the treats you bought later,” Tony suggested, his hands in his pockets.

You shrugged, “Maybe. She’ll come out for food when she’s ready. Probably when I’m asleep.”

You walked over to your closet and closed the door to shut off another place for her to go and hide. You wanted to be able to check up on her and limiting the spaces to search would help.

“Well, I have to go do some work today at some point, so, that’s now,” Tony commented and you turned back to him, finding him close. “You can get the letter box and everything set up?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Good,” he said to you, giving you a peck on the cheek before turning away.

Suddenly, it came to you again, the last night with Steve. Maybe Tony knew, although a part of you was screaming at you to let it lie. But, despite your better judgment, you reached out, stopping his movement. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Who’s Cecile?”

Tony looked at you with all shades of suspicious, his mood completely altered by the question. There was a dangerous underlying tone to his question, “Why do you ask?”

You shrugged, letting your hand fall from his arm, suddenly not interested based off his reaction to the question. “Never mind.”

“Why do you ask?” he repeated more forcibly.

Trying to be nonchalant, you said, “Steve called me it when we had sex last. It was just weird. He’s never done it before. It threw me off. That’s all.” Tony ground his teeth, watching you intently, not saying anything. You forced a small smile. “Really, it’s not a big deal. He did not seem to even realize he had done it. I was just curious.”

He obviously did not feel the same. Tightly he said, “I’ll leave you to help the little runt settle in.” He left you then in the bedroom without a second glance.

Something told you that you should not have asked about it and that was not where that conversation was going to end.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark tony stark #dark steve rogers #mob boss tony stark #mob tony stark #mob steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark!tony stark #dark marvel #dark marvel fic #my shit

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doubleleoenergy · 3 years

Text

v. Blinding Lights, The Princess and the Pogue Series

I've been on my own for long enough. Maybe you can show me how to love, maybe.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of drug use, mentions of addiction, mentions of suicide, mentions of drinking, swearing

Summary: The events from the weekend bring JJ and y/n closer.

Words: 1820

Notes: I apologize for this coming out this morning, I fell asleep on my laptop last night editing so...here it is!

The first rays of morning light hit JJ’s window, sending beams across the room and onto his face. He groaned instinctively, covering his head with a pillow, a slight headache from the night before lingering and making him groggy.

He was aware of his actions from the night before, and did he regret them? Absolutely. He knew he fucked up with Y/N, bad, but he also couldn’t help it. He had never been in a long-term relationship before, he’d never let things get farther than a casual hookup before with anyone. Ad he had never actually liked a woman long enough to see potential with her, not until he had met y/n. Well, not that they did or did not have potential, that was all up to the game of life. And an apology would be necessary if they were to move forward with even a friendship at that point.

JJ rolled out of bed and onto his feet, his door creaking as he opened it up and peaked around the hallway. John B’s door was completely open, with him and Sarah nowhere in sight. That was probably for the best, he knew if they were there, he would just feel too prideful to apologize.

Stepping out into the hallway, he walked out and into the living room, finding y/n sound asleep on the couch still. The sun shined through the windows, covering her body in a warm beacon of light. She looked angelic, and she was. Y/N was everything JJ felt he didn’t deserve in a woman, and he still had no idea why she even hung out with a Pogue like him.

He leaned back against the wall, admiring the way her body was curled up, her lips slightly parted and her tangled hair framing her face. She was still dressed in her clothes from the night before, having passed out on the couch soon after they’d arrived at the Château. JJ kept his gaze on her for a few more minutes until her eyes fluttered open, blinking away the sunlight and rolling onto her back.

It took her a moment to realize JJ standing there, the hurt from the night before resurfacing as she covered her eyelids with the cool palms of her hands. “Take a picture, JJ, it’ll last longer.” She commented. JJ finally removing himself from the wall where he was leaning, moving over to take a seat to her left beside her on the couch. She immediately rolled onto her right side, facing away from him.

“C’mon, princess, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” He teased, resting his head against the back of the couch. She groaned at the nickname, pulling the blanket over her head.

“Actually, I can. You can fuck right off, JJ Maybank.”

Her tone made JJ frown, not realizing just how badly he had screwed up the night prior. “Look, I know you’re upset, but at least let me explain.”

Y/N sat up with her back towards him, looking around on the floor until she found the backpack she had stuffed with her clothes and toothbrush, picking it up and ignoring him as she headed to the bathroom. JJ was hot on her heels, only stopping when the door shut in his face.

“Y/N, please.” He pleaded, leaning his head against the door as he spoke. Y/N rid herself of the clothes from the night before, tossing them into her bag before slipping on the tank top, jeans, and cardigan she had packed for the day.

“You can’t just ignore me forever. At least let me apologize.” JJ sighed, hearing the water running in the sink on the other side of the door. “I’m fucking sorry, okay? I just got caught up with drinking and the weed and dancing with you and I didn’t know what to do. I thought you wanted me to kiss you, I figured that was why you were dragging me out where no one could see us.”

Y/N abruptly opened the bathroom door, causing JJ to stumble forward, catching himself on the doorframe before he could fall. She passed by him as he caught himself, pulling her hair up into a bun on the top of her head. “You think I’m upset because you kissed me? I was going to kiss you, dumbass.” She admitted, crossing her arms over her chest as she sat back down on the couch.

“Well then, what’s the problem?” He questioned, walking down the hallway and stopping at the end, afraid that if he sat beside her, she’d just get up and walk away again.

“The problem is that you kissed me and then acted like it didn’t happen when we caught up with John B and Sarah.” JJ recalled the events of the night, remembering how he pulled away from her to walk back to where John B and Sarah were standing. He remembered making a joke to John B as to why they were in the woods, lying to him about the fact that they were kissing.

“Well, shit, I don’t know, y/n. I just…I panicked, okay? We have this rule: no Pogue on Pogue macking. You’re part of the Pogues now and I…” JJ sighed, running his hands through his blonde locks. “I don’t know how any of this works. Whenever I’m into a girl it’s just based on hooking up with her. It’s never anything serious. I have a fucked up way of thinking, alright? Is that what you want to hear?”

Y/N looked up at him sadly, meeting his gaze before she reluctantly motioned for him to sit on the cushion beside her on the couch. JJ followed her motions, sitting beside her and leaving some space between them. They sat in silence for a minute before JJ continued.

“Look, my mom left my dad and I when I was young, and my dad blamed me my whole life for it. He was addicted to drugs and used to beat the shit outta me whenever he felt like it. I never grew up understanding a healthy relationship, or sharing feelings, or really any of that shit.” He looked down at his hands, opening and closing them as he spoke. “I’m sorry, I wanted to kiss you, I mean, who wouldn’t? You’re the fucking best, y/n; you’re smart, funny, and incredibly beautiful. And for some reason you like hanging out with a fuck up like me.”

Y/N shifted to look over at him, a small smile on her face as he talked about her. “You’re right, I am pretty great.” She teased, easing the tension and making them both laugh. “You’re not a fuck-up, you know that, right? You can’t control what happened with your mom and dad. I was so young when my dad killed himself, but when I grew up and watched my mom drinking, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was my fault. The truth is you can’t blame yourself for the way others react to situations. Life is shit, I mean, we don’t even make it out alive after all the bullshit we go through. It’s not worth spending your whole life blaming yourself for the actions of others.”

Her words are comforting, soothing JJ down to his core. She made him feel less messed up, like he could be someone better, like he deserved better than the shitty cards he was dealt in life. JJ’s eyes flicker to her lips, leaning closer and closing his eyes before the moment is interrupted by the sound of a car horn honking outside.

“Shit.” Y/N cursed, pulling away from the intimate moment they were having and standing up off the couch. She pulled her backpack to her shoulder, looking out the window at the familiar Dodge Durango. “That’s Bailey, I texted her for a ride home when I was in the bathroom.”

JJ tried not to look flustered, scrambling to his feet and running a hand through his hair again. “I’ll walk you out.” Y/N opened the door, walking out onto the screened in porch before stepping outside while JJ walked silently beside her. She watched her sister’s expression as she looked between the two, raising an eyebrow as she smiled mischievously at y/n.

“You must be JJ.” Bailey noted, rolling her window down and resting her arm on the open space.

“Yeah, it’s uh-it’s nice to meet you.” JJ held out his hand for Bailey to shake, receiving a firm handshake from the woman, glancing back to where y/n stood.

“It’s nice to meet you finally, y/n won’t shut up about you.” Y/N’s cheeks flushed a bright red, her eyes widening as she wordlessly pleaded with her sister to shut up.

“B, don’t we have that place to go?” Y/N questioned, hinting at her sister to play along with her lie after having just embarrassed her.

“Right...yeah, get in kid. It was nice to meet you, JJ. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of you.” Bailey watched as y/n walked to the passenger door of the Durango and opened it, Y/N lingering in the doorway. JJ followed her, holding onto the top of the door frame.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow, yeah?” She asked, biting her lip as she looked up into JJ’s blue hues..

“Yeah, sounds good. It was nice meeting you, Bailey.” He gave them both a salute before heading back into the Château, y/n hopping into the passenger seat of the Durango and shutting the door behind herself.

Bailey backed out onto the road, a sinful smile on her lips. “I can see why you like him; he’s tall, muscular, and those eyes are like staring into the damn ocean.” Bailey hissed when y/n smacked her arm as she drove, y/n letting out a huff of breath as she stared over at her older sister.

“You just had to embarrass me, huh?”

Bailey shrugged, stopping at a stop sign on the road before making a left in the direction of their home. “Mom would’ve done the same if she was here, you know that. Like she did for that boy who took you to your eighth-grade formal.” Y/N smiled at the fond memory of her mother, one of the better memories before her mother’s drinking had gotten worse.

“...Yeah, mom definitely embarrassed me much more than you just had. And that was before I even thought about kissing boys.” Y/N agreed, biting down on her bottom lip and looking out the window. She still didn’t know how JJ felt, he had been leaning in for a kiss, but what was to say he wasn’t going to pull away again or shrug it off as an ‘in the moment’ gesture. Her thoughts are clouded with the what-ifs of her and JJ’s relationship as they drove home, the lingering sounds of the radio playing softly in the background as she replayed the past hour repeatedly in her head.

Tagging those who may be interested. Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged/untagged: @midnightf, @serendipityrogers, @fuckandfluff, @eireduchess, @calisamcro, @moniamaybank, @astrydis, @sokovianheadtilt, @blackwiddows, @matbarzalschain, @bigassnocash, @sspidermanss

#doubleleoenergyseries: The Princess and the Pogue #series: the princess and the pogue #the princess and the pogue outfits #jj maybank #outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x fem!reader

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apocalypseornaw · 3 years

Text

One Condition

For the square "Friends to lovers" on @girl-next-door-writes make me feel bingo

Side note Bobby is alive in this cause screw canon

No real warnings besides cursing and lots of fluff

First meeting

You had just thrown your bags into the trunk of your nova when your cell phone started ringing. You cursed under your breath and ran to the front seat to grab it. You barely glanced at the screen but recognized the number instantly.

You answered with a smile on your face “Bobby! How are you doing?” You could hear other voices in the background but that wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence.

Bobby was pretty much one of the few people that tried to coordinate the efforts of hunters and offered a place to crash and or get patched up to those he was close with. “As good as I ever am sweetheart. Look I got some boys here that are hunting a witch and since you’re a bit more attuned with that type of thing from everything your uncle taught you I was wondering if you could lend them a hand” You didn’t even think about it before you said “Of course. I’m about three hours from you but I’ll head that way” if Bobby was asking you to work with them they could be trusted. You heard him call someone in the background an idjit before he told you to drive safe and hung up.

------

“You think this chick can handle a witch better than me and Sam Bobby?” Dean was a bit skeptical about Bobby calling in another hunter to back them up. “Son, her uncle raised her and he was a witch. She didn’t pick up a lot from him but she knows enough to spot the signs and had a few defensive maneuvers up her sleeve. Give her a chance, I’ve known her for years and she’s just as good a hunter as either of you”

The sound of an engine pulling up drew their attention. Sam stepped around the corner from the kitchen with a bottle of water in his hand and motioned to the door “That her?” Bobby tilted his head slightly and listened for a moment before nodding “Yeah that’s her nova”

Dean and Sam both followed Bobby out to the porch. You parked just behind the impala and killed your engine before climbing out your car. Bobby walked down the steps to greet you and a smile slipped onto your face the moment you saw him “Bobby!” you hugged him and he did his usual checklist to ensure your last hunt was successful and you hadn’t had no recent injuries before finally turning his attention back to the two standing on the porch watching the two of you greet each other “These the boys I told you about” he started so Sam of course stepped up first and extended his hand “I’m Sam. That’s my older brother Dean” you shook Sam’s hand with a smile “Name’s Y/N”

Dean nodded at you but you could see how skeptic he was about working with you. “Hold on..Sam and Dean? John’s sons” Dean nodded again so you turned back to Bobby not meaning to talk about the Winchesters in front of them but needing to ask “I thought they didn’t really work with other hunters? Did they change their policy since their dad died?”

Dean cleared his throat so you looked back at him. He gave you a smile that was much more sarcasm than friendly “Sweetheart we can answer questions for ourselves.” You laughed sharply before replying “My name isn’t sweetheart darling and I was just making sure the two of you had worked up to the point of playing well with others. I see your brother has manners but from where I’m standing I ain’t too impressed with yours”

You brushed past Dean into the house so he begrudgingly followed you. Bobby whispered to Sam “Either they’ll work well together or the witch will be distracted enough by their fighting you should be able to kill her easy enough”

Friends?

“Can I ask you one thing sweetheart” Dean spoke from the other side of the motel room and you cut your eyes up with a raised eyebrow “What?” He motioned to where you were currently painting your nails “I mean what I’m about to say in the least offensive way possible”

“Not a good way to start a conversation with a woman who is armed and can kick your ass but do please continue” you replied and he laughed before holding his hands up defensively “It’s just..you’re a hunter and one of the best I know. You’re pretty badass in my opinion but you always have your nails painted and yeah it’s normally a dark color but I was just curious as to why”

You let a sly grin slip onto your face as you closed the nail polish and placed it back into your bag “It comes in handy” “How so?” he asked so you shot him a wink “You’ll see”

------

Later that night you and the boys headed back to the motel to catch a little sleep before parting ways the next morning. Dean stopped you just outside your room door “C’mon Y/N tell me how you knew who the shifter was” you stopped and leaned back against the doorframe glancing over where Sam was watching you and his older brother with an amused smile.

You held up one hand and wiggled your fingers. Dean looked confused for a moment then realization flashed across his face “Does your nail polish have silver in it?” You grinned “Silver infused basecoat and that my dear is why my nails are always painted”

He nodded approvingly “Smart and yet again proves my point of why you’re one of the best hunters I know” you touched the tender spot on your side when the shifter had thrown you into a wall and probably would’ve went for a killing blow had Dean not been there “You’re not so bad yourself Dean, in fact I would say you’ve finally learned how to play well with others” Sam laughed but Dean simply grinned “Only took a few years of knowing you huh?”

“What can I say? I’m a miracle worker even with seemingly lost causes” he shook his head with a light laugh “Goodnight Y/N” “Night Dean,Night Sam” after Sam wished you a goodnight you walked into your room and shut the door behind yourself. Who would’ve thought all those years before when you first met the brothers that they’d end up being your two closest friends?

Maybe more?

Dean stopped in his tracks when he walked into Bobby’s living room and saw you curled up on the couch fast asleep. You had grabbed his discarded jacket from the arm of the couch and was using it as a pillow. A small smile slipped onto his face at seeing you were finally resting so he grabbed one of the blankets Bobby kept in the hall closet to spread across your legs. You moved slightly in your sleep and for just a moment he worried he may have woken you up but you were simply burrowing further into his jacket and the blanket.

He walked quietly back into the kitchen and sat down at the table across from Bobby “She doing ok?” Bobby asked, nodding back towards you. “Yeah she’s finally asleep. I’ve been worried about her these last few days” in truth you had done something incredibly stupid while also simultaneously brave.

You, him and Sam had gone up against a coven and you’d taken the brunt of a spell protecting him without even knowing what the spell could do. He had felt an ice cold jolt of fear when you’d gone down. He was afraid when he made it to your side that you’d be gone. Thankfully you were stronger than given credit by the witches. They’d gotten you into the impala and Dean hadn’t come under ninety getting you to Bobby’s.

Bobby being well Bobby had an antidote waiting but apparently it’d take a few days to get your system back right after the shock of the spell. The last week and a half you’d gone through shivering spells hard enough you’d cracked a tooth only to spike a fever the next moment.

You hadn’t kept much to eat down and sleep had been out of the question completely. You’d been in and out of it and Dean hadn’t left your side for a second even refusing to go into town if anything was needed. That’s where Sam currently was.

“You care about her don’t you?” Bobby asked, forcing Dean out of his thoughts about you. “What? Of course I do, she’s my friend” Bobby sighed in frustration with the younger man who was like a son to him and just as stubborn “Dean that’s not what I meant” that made Dean really stop to consider what Bobby was saying. Did he have romantic feelings for you?

When was the last time he’d sought another woman? It just seemed natural to spend time with you after a hunt or just crash. When he needed to talk to someone he’d call you if the two of you weren’t around each other. He always looked forward to seeing a smile on your face and when it was because of him? There wasn’t a better feeling. You’d become such an important part of his life over the years he hadn’t even realized it.

When you’d gotten hurt this time and he faced the very real possibility of losing you it had just confirmed what he’d already known deep down. You were who he wanted in his life. You were the most amazing woman he’d ever met, you kept him on his toes and made him strive to be a better man every day although you never missed an opportunity to tell him just how good of a man he already was. “Bobby..” he started but was silenced with a look “Don’t tell me son. Save it for when Y/N wakes up then you two need to have a talk”

------

When you slowly started to wake up you felt like you’d been hit by a bus. Christ what had happened? Everything was a little foggy. You caught a whiff of gunpowder,leather and cinnamon and memories started flooding back. Dean. That damn witch had thrown a spell at him!

You sat up quickly only for a wave of dizziness to push you back down. You then realized your pillow had in fact been Dean’s jacket. Where was he? Was he ok? “Dean?” you called weakly calming slighty when you recognized your surroundings as Bobby’s living room.

You heard footsteps and looked up to see him walking into the room with a worried smile “You’re awake” you nodded slowly being careful to not cause another wave to push you back under and started to sit up much more carefully this time. He stepped forward to help you then sat down next to you so you leaned your head over on his shoulder with your legs curled up under you while you turned to face him on the couch.

“Are you ok?” you asked, voice slightly muffled due to the fact that your face was buried in his shirt. He laughed slightly which caused you to pull back enough to look at him “Why are you laughing at me?” he raised one hand to gently cup the side of your face “You’re asking if I’m ok while you’ve spent the last week and a half going through everything this side of torture because you decided it was best to shove me out the way and take that blast for yourself” you grimaced slightly “Well at least we’re both alive”

You realized he was still holding your face and probably would’ve been embarrassed had you not been fighting the urge to curl up against his chest and go back to sleep. “Why?” he asked and you were confused for a moment before you realized he was asking why you’d saved him. “Because whether you believe it or not Dean you’re worth saving time and again” he smiled slightly and opened his mouth to talk but you raised a hand before he could “Wait let me get this out while you feel bad and may not make fun of me later if it backfires I can blame it on the after effects”

You might as well confess your feelings now considering you’d nearly died for him. When he nodded you took a deep breath then said “Dean I’ve had feelings for you for a while. I couldn’t very well just let you die. It was worth the risk” “Can I speak now?” he asked with a slight smile so you nodded. He leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before saying “I feel the same way about you. When you’re better I want to take you on an actual date, ya know actually romance you but for now thank you and please don’t ever scare me like that again”

You smiled slightly then said “On one condition” “Which is?” he asked so you motioned to his chest “Can I go back to sleep on you?” He laughed and pulled you into his lap “For as long as you want”

@girl-next-door-writes

#spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #girl next doors make me feel bingo

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mochegato · 4 years

Text

Pixie Spy

Written for the Jasonette July Wayne Gala prompt.

Why?!? Why was she doing this again? Oh right, because John Constantine promised to give her some help with a particularly difficult part of the Grimoire if she did. And he needed the information he was currently obtaining in order to give said help. That is how she ended up with an invitation, still not sure how Constantine pulled that off, to the most exclusive event of the year, the Wayne Gala.

Plus, Adrien was kind of right, ordinarily it would be a great opportunity to showcase her designs. The problem was on its surface, her dress wasn't one of her best works. The black dress had a high, cowl neckline in front and in back, adding a bit of drama and a small homage to the local heroes, vigilantes she silently corrected herself. The high neckline also offset the incredibly short bubble skirt, making her legs look longer than the Nile. Despite being a bit uncomfortable showing that much leg, it was necessary for this particular design and if she could actually feel like she had long legs for once, she was willing to deal with the discomfort. She also added a glittery belt to show her shape and add some bling, which seemed like something the people at this particular event would value. It was functional, not fashionable. Not that it was ugly, just that it was designed to be passable, enough to fit in but not enough to get noticed.

She fidgeted slightly as she stood in the entryway trying to get past the people piling up trying to not so discretely pay homage to the king. That king being Bruce Wayne. From her research, he actually did seem like he was a good guy. The list of charities he started or contributed to was longer than she was tall. She scowled at the voice in the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like Adrien's saying that wasn't much. Adrien, who got out of coming tonight because the mission was to observe the Waynes unnoticed and Adrien Agreste would get a bit too much attention, that cat bastard.

Despite the laundry list of charity work, Marinette was still suspicious of Wayne. First of all, he was rich, filthy rich. Anyone that rich had to have some dark and twisted secrets they were hiding. He wouldn’t be the first rich person to hide their illicit activities behind a veil of charity work. Second, he chose to live in Gotham, the most crime-riddled city in the world. And that is just the reported crime. A great deal of the crime never got reported to or investigated by the police, whether through corruption or exhaustion. The kind of place a rich person could be confident they would get away with literal murder.

But mostly, it was Constantine that made her suspicious of Bruce Wayne. Not that Constantine had ever said anything negative about him, well nothing more than calling him a pain in the ass, but that was really not so much an insult as a compliment coming from Constantine. But, Wayne had information Constantine needed to help them with the Grimoire and Constantine refused to say how Wayne had gotten that information. How and why would a playboy billionaire have that information? There is absolutely no reason someone outside of the hero/villain/magic community would have that information. And, if he was such a good guy, why would Constantine need to go to these lengths to get it without Wayne’s knowledge? Unless it was related to one of his illicit secrets.

Her eyes darted around the room taking in its grandeur, muttering to herself about how ostentatious it all was. Normally, she would be completely mesmerized by the grandeur and pomp of the scene. The room was decorated to perfection. Everything was absolutely exquisite. However, she was too anxious and wary to enjoy it. So instead of being inspired, each gorgeous detail grated on her. She reached up to tug on her hair before remembering her hair had been pulled up into an elegant twist held in place with a single silver pin. With her normal anxiety relief method unavailable, she instead shifted nervously from foot to foot while she scanned the room trying to catch sight of the rest of the Waynes, gently tightening and loosening her grip on her purse, trying not to crush Tikki.

She was so lost in her anxiety she didn't notice the dark haired man walking behind her take notice of her and stop. He stood behind her with a nonchalance that didn’t seem to fit a man his size. He watched her fidget and muttering to herself about “damn rich people” with a smile on his face.

“You don't seem excited to be here” he said quietly.

She turned around with wide eyes, shocked that someone had heard her. Whatever she was expecting to see it was not what she saw in front of her. The man towered over her. Even in her ridiculously, dangerously high heels, Chloe insisted, her head didn’t even come up to his chin. He was also extremely handsome, with chiseled features and the most gorgeous blue eyes she had ever seen. Those eyes were going to be a problem. They were clear and kind and roguish and hypnotizing. His black hair with a shock of white was slightly tousled giving the impression of a rouge trying to look sophisticated. Was it inappropriate to imagine running her hand through his hair and along his sharp jawline? Yeah, probably not appropriate and likely not welcome. Clean up your thoughts, girl! Great, now Alya was in her head scolding her. No, that’s not right, because that would definitely not be Alya’s advice.

He was grinning at her with an impish look in his eyes. “What? Not impressed with the ‘we care about whatever the point of this gala is, but we’re not hobos so let’s not skimp on the luxury for us’ décor? Or maybe it is the illustrious, soul sucking, benefactors of Gotham that have set you on edge.” The smile he shot her was guarded and critical. She chuckled lightly and looked away. “You have good judgement and a good reason to be suspicious. But you made it to The event of the season, so you must have done something right… or wrong.”

She hummed and looked away. “Have you ever had one of those days where everything went wrong and now you don't know how you got where you are or why you are there?”

“I’m familiar with the feeling,” he nodded.

“That's my life. All of it. Every single fucking day. This one included."

He barked out a laugh and looked at her again appraising her. “Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine. I think I like you. You might just make this torture session more bearable. See you around,” he chuckled as he walked away.

Marinette watched the man’s retreating back. The night was already going better than she thought it would. But the plan for the night wasn’t to find a date it was to act as a scout and keep tabs on the… enemy? For all intents and purposes, that is what the Waynes were tonight, right? They had information that she needed, that Paris needed, and they apparently weren’t going to part with it willingly, so they were the enemy. No, enemy sounded too harsh she chided herself. Opposition? Yes, they were the opposition. That sounded much less hostile, more like a game… a game where people’s lives were on the line. You know, just for fun, no pressure.

She found a spot against a wall she could use. It was slightly raised but not well lit so it wouldn’t draw attention to her. From her spot she could finally see the family. It was very thoughtful of them to group together like that. She could see the little one, stiff and military-like posture, glowering at the people around him. He was standing as far away from the rest of the people there as he could without actually leaving the room. Much closer to the dancefloor, she could see the middle boy talking to a few business men. They all had fake smiles plastered on their faces as they made seemingly insignificant small talk. She did not envy him that experience. Between the two and to the side was the oldest son. He was chatting up some business person’s daughter, leaning in a lot closer than etiquette would dictate. Just the father then… there he was still not too far from the door talking to a dark haired woman. He had his arm around her waist as she leaned into him. She must be the girlfriend then. Mari made a note that she should probably pay attention to where she was as well. Fortunately, the spot she had chosen gave her a great vantage point. Unfortunately, her observation spot wasn’t as unnoticed as she had hoped.

___________________________________________________________

Jason made his way over to the bar and ordered a beer. He still hadn’t spoken to his family to let them know he was there and he definitely needed a drink before he approached them. Why the fuck was he here again? Fucking Batman.

Fresh glass of beer in hand, he made his way over to his brothers, refusing to acknowledge any of the partygoers along the way. He watched as his brothers took note of his approach and excused themselves from their conversation partners. Dick didn’t look too happy to turn away from the latest interest, smiling at her and giving her reassurances before sending her away. Tim looked less happy to have to turn away from the men he was talking with. He should be thanking Jason really. He was giving him an out from having to deal with them and their god awful personalities and fashion. Seriously, who told that guy that tie was okay. Even the Riddler would think that tie was obnoxious.

“Okay, I’m here,” Jason said taking a large swig of his drink. “How long before I can ditch this bottomless pit of misery?”

“Woah, slow down there. You’re going to get drunk before the announcement.” Dick cautioned him.

“Do you want me here or do you want me sober? You’re going to have to choose one. They’re mutually exclusive, Dickweed.”

“Come on Jaybird, we all have to be here. None of the rest of us are getting drunk.”

“That’s just because I’m smarter than you guys are,” he said tipping his glass to Tim who had scoffed at the suggestion and took another drink. “There is no reason we all have to be here. We shouldn’t all have to suffer. And officially, I’m not even a member of this hellscape of a family anymore so I really shouldn’t have to be here.”

“If The Disappointment gets to leave, so do I. Someone should be patrolling tonight instead of all of us wasting our time entertaining these harpies. And if one more person tries to touch me on my head I’m going to break a hand.”

“Stop it! Nobody is leaving, Damian. We’re in this together. And Jason, if anyone got to go home it wouldn’t be you. You are the reason we all have to be here in the first place; so we can ALL show our support when we officially announce that you are part of this ‘hellscape of a family’ again. So enjoy it,” he said with a cutting smile.

“Not everyone enjoys getting groped by the gold-digging, trust fund whores. I’ve found a way to cope. It’s called alcohol. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he downed the drink in his hand, “my drink is empty. I’m going to go find another.”

“At least try not to interact with anyone. We don’t want to piss anyone off tonight. And I don’t want to have to fix your messes.”

“Way ahead of you, Replacement.” Jason turned and walked away before Dick could reprimand him again. He needed to get away. He could only handle his family in small does, very small doses, miniscule amounts, and he had already surpassed that limit.

He grabbed two more drinks off of a passing waiter’s tray and looked for the Sunshine Girl. He scanned the room sipping the champagne, trying not to make eye contact with anyone in the room. His size and demeanor was usually enough to keep people away but making eye contact made people think he was open to talking. He was not. He had no interest in making nice with Gotham’s elite. He wanted to get this night over with, with as little pain as possible.

He finally spotted her off to the side of the room speaking with the obnoxious tie guy. Jason watched as the man slid his hand up the side of her leg starting to move under her skirt. Jason started to make his way over to them until he saw her move closer to the man. She was close enough to whisper seductively into his ear now. Ah, not uninvited then. Maybe he had misread her. Well there goes his hope of this party not sucking balls. He started to turn away but noticed a pained expression on the man’s face. He turned back to reexamine the scene. She was holding the man’s hand at an unnatural angle. It was a hold he’d used a few times himself, it was discrete but extremely effective, causing intense pain with a small movement. He knew if she moved her hand just a few more centimeters, she could easily break his wrist.

She let go with a viscous look pushing him away from her as she did. The man shook his hand and scowled at her. He started back toward her and Jason took off running, not pausing to apologize to the people he bumped into along the way. Before he could get to her, she had already taken care of it. She squared her shoulders and glared at the man, making it clear that she could and would continue with her actions if he persisted. When she moved her hand ever so slightly, just enough so he could see it and remember what she had done, the man turned away and smiled at the people who had been standing behind him as though nothing had happened. Jason chuckled to himself watching her move away from the man. She was definitely going to make this night more bearable.

“Looks like you don’t need me around for protection. Although I did bring a drink so maybe I can earn my keep that way,” he said handing her one of the glasses in his hand. “That was extremely impressive. How did you lean to handle yourself like that?”

She accepted the glass and shrugged. “You live in Paris long enough you pick up a few things.”

“That isn’t something you just ‘pick up’. That’s experience.”

“And that is exactly what you get when you have a supervillain terrorizing your streets and thoughts for 5 years; experience. And how do you know about that move? Rich boy secretly a vigilante?” She raised an eyebrow at him giving him a daring smile and pretending to take a drink from the glass. She was on a mission and she didn’t know him. She wasn’t about to actually drink anything a stranger gave her, let alone get drunk.

“You don’t grow up in Gotham without learning how to take down someone trying to cop a feel. And what do you mean about a supervillain in Paris?” he asked taking a step closer to her, concern edging into his stare.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not relevant for tonight.” She said taking a step away and scanning the room again to locate the Waynes.

He looked at her for a few moments taking her in, not just her appearance but how she held herself. She stood with confidence and nonchalance. She wasn’t acting coy, she wasn’t baiting him to ask her more questions, she was serious. There was some kind of supervillain running around Paris that they had no idea about. Well that piqued his interest. He wanted to find out more about that and just his luck, the only person around who knew about it was the gorgeous and badass Sunshine Child in front of him. Guess he’ll just have to suffer and spend more time talking to her. The things he does for Gotham, he smirked to himself. “I’m Jason,” he said putting his hand out for her to shake.

She looked at his hand before hesitantly taking it. His hand absolutely engulfed hers. “Nice to meet you Jason,” she said looking toward the dancefloor. She had last seen the Waynes near the dancefloor and they couldn’t have gotten far, right? They were likely to be near it.

Misinterpreting her focus he asked, “Wanna dance?” placing down his now empty glass.

She needed a better vantage point to locate the Waynes and even if they weren’t on the dancefloor anymore, the dancefloor would be the ideal place get an unobstructed, overall view of the room. She could see the entire room from the dancefloor. She just had to scope it out discretely so Jason didn’t get suspicious. “Sure,” she said smiling at him and accepting the hand he had offered her.

He guided her out onto the dancefloor. Jason noticed a little girl standing nervously next to the dancefloor looking at a group of kids nearby. “Hold on just a second,” he said dropping her hand to kneel down next to the little girl. “Hey, I just wanted to say what a beautiful dress you have. I wish you had a smile to match. Anything wrong, kid?” he asked gently. The little girl gave him a nervous smile.

“Thanks. My Mom said I could pick out a dress and I chose this one. But Mom says it looks silly. It’s too fluffy and gets in everyone’s way.”

At that Marinette kneeled down next to her as well. “Oh. Well, let me fill you in on a little secret. I’m a fashion designer and I can tell you there is nothing wrong with fluffy. You did a great job picking it out. It is perfect for you. I couldn’t design anything better. I wish I looked as confident and effortlessly beautiful as you do. ”

The smile the little girl gave her was genuine this time. “You really like it?”

“I do,” Marinette responded.

“I do, too. I’m not a fashion designer, but I still think you look good, kid. And if anyone tells you they don’t like it, scr… I mean, forget them. Who cares what they think. A fashion designer and a delinquent think it looks amazing. Don’t let someone else tell you what you like.” Jason added. The little girl beamed at both of them and bounded off to join the kids with much more confidence.

Marinette watched him as he watched the kid play with her friends making raucous noise as they played, a grin on his face until he saw some parents come to reprimand their kids for being so noisy. So, rich boy has a heart and is really protective of kids. Well that wasn’t going to help Marinette focus solely on the mission. “That was incredibly nice of you. That’s not advice I would have expected from someone attending a party like this.” Marinette said taking Jason’s outstretched hand again.

“Just because we’re miserable here doesn’t mean she should be, too. Kids should be happy. It’s ridiculous to bring a kid to a party if you aren’t going to let them be a kid. Adults in Gotham expect too much of their kids. They treat them like props instead of kids, tools to help them achieve a goal.” He said voice getting gruff as he spoke. He looked back at her and shook his head as if to clear his head of his thoughts. He smiled at her instead and took her waist with his free hand to start dancing with her.

“You know, I noticed you never did give me your name.”

She looked into his eyes for a just a moment before she looked back to the dancefloor, “You know, I noticed that too.”

“Hmmm. Secretive. No name but a fashion designer from Paris,” he said. Marinette paled slightly refusing to look back at him. He was paying attention to her and noticing details. She hadn’t expected that from this crowd. She was going to have to be more careful about what she said. ‘Not get noticed’ played over and over in her head. She was supposed to slip in and out with nobody remembering her. She might have blown the mission already. But, was she ready to walk away from those blue eyes? Surely, talking with him couldn’t do any harm, right? “So, did you design the dress you’re wearing?”

She was brought back to reality with a jolt. “Yes. Not… not my best work, but it fit the uh, occasion,” she stuttered out.

“Was the occasion to look stunning? Because you do.” He grinned smugly as she blushed heavily under his praise. This was fun. This was his new mission for the night; to see how many times he could make her blush. “Still not going to tell me your name, huh?”

She looked back at him before dropping her eyes again. Stupid mission. If it were just her here for herself, she could stay here dancing with Jason and gazing into his eyes for the rest of the night, and tomorrow, and the day after for that matter. But she wasn’t here for herself. She was here for a reason and that reason demanded she be anonymous and keep track of the Waynes.

She scanned the floor again and finally spotted the Waynes, confirming they were all there. Nobody had snuck off. They really liked sticking around each other didn’t they?

“No, it takes more than a pretty line from a pretty boy to get my name” she said looking back to Jason and plastering on a fake smile. “I don’t need any rich boys remembering me after this is over. Tomorrow I’ll go back to my real life and it will be like none of this ever happened. I can report that I came, I danced, and I even smiled a few times, then never speak of it again.”

“Friends or family forced you to come because they thought you needed some excitement in your life, Pixie Pop?”

“Something like that… Pixie Pop?”

“You won’t tell me your name and I need to call you something. You’re little and mischievous and can handle yourself… Pixie Pop. Honestly, you’re lucky I didn’t go with Odysseus. Also, you think I’m pretty?” He grinned down at her.

She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, cheeks flushing slightly. “I think that would have made you Polyphemus, which you certainly have the size for,” she grinned up at him. “Anyway, that’s why I’m here. How about you?”

“Oh, my family thinks I have enough fun already. I’m here because if they have to suffer, so do I. And all to bolster the name of the illustrious Bruce Wayne.”

Marinette examined his face as he stared toward where she last seen Bruce Wayne. He looked annoyed and frustrated. This was a side of Mr. Wayne she had not heard about in her research, a side that frustrated native Gothamites. A bit more information could be helpful for her to figure out what role he played in the Grimoire information Constantine was gathering, figure out whether or not he was a threat. “Not a fan?” she asked delicately.

He looked back at her examining her face for any malice. “Depends on the day.”

She hummed in response. “What can you tell me about Bruce Wayne?” she finally asked.

“Why do you want to know?” he responded suspiciously. Most people looking for more information wanted it as a weapon. Bruce might not be his favorite person, he might actually hate him right now, but he wasn’t going to help someone take him down unless it was him.

She shrugged, “everything I’ve seen shows an exemplary record for him. You don’t seem to be a fan though and you’ve grown up in Gotham so you would have some good insights. So, I’m wondering what your take on him is. What he’s done to draw your ire.”

Jason nodded slightly seeming to mull over what she said. “He does good things. He helps a lot of charities. He honestly does care about the city and the people and about making their lives better. His parenting skills could use some work though. He could show his sons that he actually cares about them as more than tools, you know, whether they live or died…” he furrowed his brows and looked away for a few seconds before he schooled his expression. His eyes got a wicked gleam to them and he leaned towards her to whisper conspiratorially “… and I hear he’s sleeping with Batman.”

Mari looks at him surprised. “Huh, I guess he has a type then, supermodels, superheroes…”

“Supervillains…” Jason says under her breath looking back at Bruce and his date.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he covered quickly, but the damage had already been done. She had started thinking about Bruce’s involvement with the super community. If he was sleeping with superheroes and super villains, that meant he was part of the same circles as Constantine… and Constantine liked dating in the super community. Could Bruce Wayne be in the super community? That would explain why he had information pertaining to the Grimoire. And she might need to revisit exactly how Constantine knew Bruce Wayne.

“Are you okay? I didn’t break you, did I?” he asked cautiously.

“Yeah, fine I could just maybe use some uh, water?” she gave an awkward smile.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please?” She just needed a bit of space to think.

Jason left to grab a glass of water and turned back to her. She watched Bruce with her head crooked to the side. He saw her finger discretely swiping to the right a few times as she stared intently at Bruce. After a few times her finger swiped left instead and head straightened. She looked around to the other members of the family as if she was counting, confirming something in her head.

Marinette’s eyes widened as she suddenly realized why Bruce Wayne could have information they needed and why Constantine needed her to keep an eye on the Waynes. Shit. Shit shit shit shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit. She turned away quickly. This could not be happening. This. Could. Not. Be. Happening. She did NOT help him break into the BATCAVE while she kept tabs on BATMAN.

And if Constantine was trying desperately to avoid him, like he did all his exes…That little…

Jason had no idea what happened but as he got closer to his Pixie he could hear her muttering under her breath in French. His French was a bit rusty so even the pieces he could pick up were scarce and nonsensical. Something about maybe “lying” and “Roast Beef” and “bat” and “shark” and “fucking”. He couldn’t be positive about any of the words except two; “fucking” and “bat” those he was pretty familiar with. Not to brag but he could swear like a sailor in at least 7 languages. And “bat”, he knew that word in a few more languages for obvious reasons.

She was abruptly moving and ran right into him before she could take notice of her surroundings. She looked at Jason with wide eyes, reexamining the man she had spent the evening speaking and dancing with. Suddenly, everything clicking into place. There was one more hero she hadn’t accounted for, Red Hood, who while he hid his face behind a mask, just so happened to have the same towering build as Jason. But Bruce Wayne didn’t have any more kids, right? And if the other vigilantes were his sons, Red Hood should be too, right? He just had the three boys and the two girls who were out of town. That was it. He had another son, but that son had died. What was his name… She gasped loudly, “Oh God! You’re Jason,” she exclaimed out loud.

“Yeah?” He said confused. They’d been over this before.

“You’re Jason Todd,” she said looking down and taking slow breaths. “You’re Bruce Wayne’s son.”

He looked at her startled. She put that together quicker than he was expecting especially since she didn’t seem to know much about the family. “For what it’s worth, I don’t feel like his son most of the time,” he tried to joke. “Sorry for not telling you before. I don’t like talking about being in the family, or being in the family at all, actually.” He winced looking at her wide eyes.

“I wasn’t supposed to get noticed by the Waynes. Shit!”

“Then you shouldn’t have worn that dress… or that face… or that smile, Pixie.” He said grinning suavely.

She examined him for a few seconds, emotions flittering across her face almost too quickly to identify them. Confusion, bashful, flattered, hopeful, guilt, pain, melancholy.

“I have to go.” She finally spoke up.

“Wait. What?”

“I… I have to go”

“Wait, is it… you have to go because I’m Wayne’s son?”

“No, I… shit. Putain de bâtard.” Yep, that one he understood too. Wait... “Me?” He asked pointing to himself.

“No, not you… Not because you’re a Wayne, well kind of because you’re a Wayne. It’s…” she faltered for a few seconds then muttered under her breath again “Je vais tuer cette putain de mère.”

“Wait, who is the mother fucker you’re talking about? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just going to kill a bitch when I get home.”

“Okay… Okay, first, that is a lot more swearing than I thought you were capable of and I’m extremely impressed… and turned on,” he chuckled as she rolled her eyes at him and mumbled under her breath “you should have heard what was going on in my head”. He raised his eyebrows at her suggestion. “Okay, you’re making it really hard not to make out with you right now.” He watched proudly as her cheeks suddenly blazed red at his comment. Another point for him tonight.

“Second, if you’re just worried about Bruce finding out you were here, it never happened. I never saw you. You were never here,” he assured her. Instead of calming her she seemed more panicked, eyes darting from the door to him. This seemed like more than just not wanting to get noticed. She was into something and didn’t want to be. “Or, if you’re in trouble, I can help. You just need to tell me what is going on. You don’t seem like you would willingly work with someone out to hurt others, so whatever it is, I’m sure you aren’t willingly doing it. If it is something bad. I just really have no idea what is going on right now and I would like you to tell me.” He continued earnestly, looking her in her eyes to make sure she understood how deathly serious he was about it. If she needed help, he WOULD help her. Even if he didn’t like her, which he really did, he was going to help put that smile back on her face.

She looked at him for another few moments opening her mouth slightly to say something then seemed to think better of it and closed it again. She narrowed her eyes and looked away scanning the room as she thought about what to say and do next. She seemed to come to a conclusion as she turned back to him and set her feet firmly on the ground.

“I never told you why I was here, did I?” Even before he shook his head she continued. “I’m here to keep an eye on the Waynes. On you, apparently. Didn’t know you were back from the dead though, so I wasn’t looking out for you. Congratulations on that, by the way, you know, on the whole not being dead thing. That’s really amazing. I’m glad you can be around to enjoy life and laugh and be sarcastic and look at me with those eyes and look like that in a suit… probably even better out of it.” She muttered the last part under her breath.

“I’d love to see you out of that dress, too.” He smiled smugly at her.

She huffed out a breath, cheeks reddening again, “Yeah, not happening. I’m burning this dress as soon as I get out of here.”

“I can help you with that, too. I like setting fires. Two birds, one pyrotechnic.” He preened for a moment enjoying the flirting. Wait, less flirting, more focusing back on the more important part of her earlier speech.

“Wait, why are you keeping an eye on us?” he asked apprehensively.

“So I could warn my… associate if any of you left. So he could have plenty of time to… what is the best way to say this…” she looked up to the ceiling and took a deep steadying breath thinking about the words she wanted to use. None of this was part of the plan. “…so he could have plenty of time to evacuate your… lair? No, lair makes you sound like villains… your illicit… cavern of, actually I don’t know if it is a cavern… and it isn’t really illicit, is it? Well, actually I guess it kind of is, but that still makes it sound like you’re a villain…your underground… no, I don’t even know if it is underground… to evacuate your… uh… secret… base of… um, operations?”

“My what?” Jason demanded now more than a little concerned. “Who are you?”

“Nobody. Absolutely nobody of consequence. And nobody who should be here right now.” She turned to walk away before Jason stopped her.

“No. You don’t get to say something like that then try to slink away like nothing happened. Come on, we’re going to go talk to some people,” he said grabbing her arm a bit harder than strictly necessary and dragging her towards his brothers and Bruce. She definitely figured out who they all were or at least who Bruce was and that they knew too, which put her in danger, and she was working with someone to break into the Batcave, which put them all in danger. Everything about this situation was dangerous and bad and they needed to talk to the family to figure out the best next steps.

Marinette dug her heels into the ground pulling against him, a really bad idea considering how high her heels were. Instead of stopping him she stumbled into his chest allowing him the opportunity to wrap his arms around her, “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said squirming to get out of his embrace. “This is between you guys. I have neither the desire nor the interest to get involved in this little lover’s spat. I have more important things to be doing right now. Things that asshole was supposed to be doing instead of pulling practical jokes.”

“Jokes? What do you mean jokes? What the fuck is going on?” He looked at her again. She wasn’t afraid, she wasn’t gloating, she wasn’t even nervous. She was annoyed verging on enraged.

“Nothing you need to worry about, Red.” She threw in the moniker at him to get him to back down. She knew how important secret identities were, and how finding out someone knew yours could throw you off your game. She felt a bit of guilt as she used that knowledge against him but this was no longer fun. Now this was infuriating. John was playing games with his former lover, or current lover, whatever Bruce was to him, instead of just helping. He was taking time she didn’t want to spend, time the people of Paris should not have to wait. They had spent weeks planning this when he could have just walked in and asked for the information. They had wasted so much time.

“I. Do. Not. Have. Time. For. This. This is not a joke. This is not some gag for you overgrown children to play at,” she said hitting her finger into his chest with each word. “I have people in need relying on me. I have children counting on me. Parents counting on me. Single people, who also deserve to live just as much as everyone else, counting on me and all suffering while they wait. I. Am. Done. And I am leaving”

Jason listened to her shocked. Something was happening and he had absolutely no idea what, but somehow they were involved. He hated not knowing what was going on. Apparently children were suffering because of all of this and he didn’t know why. But, he was going to figure it out. She was right. They did not have time for this. Whatever was going on, they were going to help. He turned away loosening his grip on her waist to just laying his arm on her instead of encircling her. He touched his hand to his ear to activate the com hidden inside, “Tim, can you check the security video for the uh… our base of operations?”

It appeared that Tim was giving Jason some resistance because Jason turned away even further and started yell whispering threats into the air. He was trying to be as discrete as possible in the crowded room, which normally wouldn’t be such a concern but there was a group of dancers headed their way, just leaving the dance floor after the song ended. Marinette took advantage of his distraction and the sudden cover to twist away from him and slip into the crowd.

Jason called after her and tried to grasp her arm but missed her. He searched for her but the crowd was too thick, having had to bottleneck to get past the tables surrounding the dance floor. He scanned the crowd for her twisted hair or the black dress, but couldn’t see her in the group. She had effectively disappeared, but if she went into the crowd, she would have to come out and cross the dancefloor in order to leave. He could just wait for her on the other side of the group and keep an eye on the dancefloor. He moved to go around the table, but that side was just as crowded so he did the only rational, discrete thing he could in the situation, he slid across the top of the table landing on the dancefloor and waited to grab her there, but she never came out.

_____________________________________________________________

Marinette had a habit of catastrophizing. She knew this. Everyone who knew her knew this. She thought of all of the worst case scenarios and tried to plan for them. Generally, it was a wasted effort that did little more than stress her out and annoy her teammates. Today, however, today it paid off. She had anticipated having to make a quick escape and once she decided it was time to go, she put her escape plan into action. Freeing herself from Jason, she pulled off her belt before even getting to the crowd. As she entered the crowd of people, she pulled out her hair pin, letting her hair fall down. She didn’t even have to hunch down much at all to disappear into the crowd as she weaved her way through them. One advantage to being short. She ran her left hand through her hair tousling it so her long raven hair cascaded around her shoulders. With her right hand, she yanked at the cowl neckline of her dress, allowing the fabric overlay to drop forming a floor length skirt, revealing the bodice of her now red Harlow inspired dress that had been hidden underneath. Her new dress hugged her body until it reached her hips then fell freely.

Finally, she reached into her red purse, removed her phone, the cookie for Tikki, and Kaalki’s glasses, nodded to Tikki, turned her purse inside out revealing a now black purse with red detailing, and returned her phone, glasses, cookie, hairpin, and belt into it, leaving plenty of room for Tikki. The entire change took all of 10 seconds. By the time she would walk out of the crowd, she would be completely unrecognizable, at least by anyone who didn’t already know her. Unless that is, if they were looking for someone moving against the tide of people. That would be a dead giveaway. So instead, she pivoted and moved with the crowd instead of against it, parting with them after a few tables and moving laterally toward the exit.

Marinette made her way to the exit quickly, but not quickly enough to draw attention to herself. She needed to get to Constantine before the “bat family”, as her research had called them, got to him. They had reasons for keeping other superheroes out of Paris and she had no interest in having that particular awkward and slightly guilt laden (stupid gorgeous blue eyes she wanted to get lost in) conversation with them. Especially when she was this utterly livid with Constantine, which was another reason she was rushing. She needed to get to him so she could beat the asshole out of him. Oh, she was going to make him pay for this, and not in a way he would enjoy.

She was angry and frustrated and guilty and grieved. She knew Jason didn’t deserve for her to snap at him like she had but she had been too frustrated to hold back and he was part of the problem. She had been having fun with Jason. She had been enjoying bantering with him and looking into his eyes. She had really, really been enjoying having him look at her like she was the most interesting thing in Gotham and having him hold her closer than he had to while they danced. And now it was gone. She was a hero and he was a vigilante so he had to be kept at a distance. A 3,670 mile distance to be precise, well approximate.

She was just about to cross through the exit when a voice stopped her.

“Hey,” a woman with short black hair and green eyes called out to her. Marinette slowed down weighing the risk of just blowing her off vs the risk of stopping. She decided ignoring her might lead to the woman calling after her, which would bring unwanted attention, which she wanted to avoid. Stopping seemed the safer answer. As long as she didn’t look back at the gala or do anything else that might incriminate herself, she would be able to get away without any awkward conversations or fights.

“Yes” she answered with a strained smile.

“I saw that little quick change back there,” the woman responded. Marinette’s eyes widened in panic. Before anxiety could start going over all the worst case scenarios her mind could come up with, she was already in the midst of one of them in real life she really didn’t need to start thinking of worse things to add to it, the woman continued, nonchalantly scanning the people at the gala, “don’t worry, I’m not going to out you. I just might have occasion to use a quick change myself from time to time, so I was hoping you might share where you got your dress.” She shot Marinette a wicked smile. ”Just because you’re hustling doesn’t mean you can’t look killer doing it.”

Marinette relaxed minutely and gave her a small smile, “it’s called MDC Designs. She’s online. What’s your name so she’ll know who to look out for?”

“Thanks kitten. I appreciate it.” She said never looking back at Marinette. “Selina. Selina Kyle. I’d say nice to meet you, but we never met, did we?”

Marinette smiled to herself as she walked out the door. Maybe the night wasn’t a total loss. Hopefully, Constantine got the information they needed, she’ll get to punch his smug face as soon as she sees him, and she’ll get a new client. Guess Adrien was right about showcasing her design after all. He must never know. Not such a bad night at all.

Chapter 2

Tag:

@fsketchart @jasonette-july-2k20

#maribat #jasonette #jasonette july 2k20 #Pixie Spy

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negandarylsatisfaction · 3 years

Text

[SUMMARY: John Winchester gets possessed by a demon making him seduce Dean's girlfriend.]

SMUT

John and Jenna.

Dean had invited you for a weekend work trip with his brother and father. Not really knowing exactly what they did you wanted to go along to spend more time with your boyfriend, it felt like he never had time for you. You had met John a few months back and saw him on and off whenever you'd visit Dean. He seemed like a nice man although he didnt speak much to you.

Arriving at the motel, you and Dean got your separate room while Sam and John stayed together. Helping you and Dean bring the bags into the room, John walked in behind the both of you.

"Thanks dad, I needed to bring some extra things for this trip with what we're dealing with." You over heard Dean tell his father before passing you a bag.

"Just put this in the top cabinet," Dean uttered before heading back out to the car.

"Crap," you struggled on your tip toes to push the heavy bag in the top cabinet as it kept popping back out.

"I got it," suddenly you felt John behind you, pushing the bag in place.

"Oh-" You whispered feeling him press himself against your backside. Turning to him, you weren't sure if he had purposely done that or if it was an innocent mistake.

"Sorry, sweetheart," John looked down at you in a way he never had. It was almost the same look Dean had when he first met you. The look of attraction, the look a man has when he sees a woman he cant help but picture in the most unspoken of ways. Clearing his throat he looked away having truly not meant to let his body get close to yours. Apart of you didnt mind it, you did find Dean's father attractive after all they did look alike.

"Its okay." Nervously you laughed it off as you awkwardly walked towards the rest of the bags. John's eyes followed before the sound of Dean entering the room again made him quickly look away.

"Dad, you're gonna help me over here?" Sam appeared at the doorway looking for John making him remember he had things to look over.

"Yeah. Of course." John walked out leaving you and Dean to yourself.

The next day Sam and Dean planned to go together to investigate a lake close by while John decided to stay behind and finish going over some of his research. Staying in your room, you read a book you bought along with you knowing Dean would be busy with work most of the time. John sat at the desk in his room, his eyes growing tired going through books of research when he decided to take a break. Leaning back on the chair his eyes closed, drifting into a deep sleep. As he slept, a line of dark black smoke creeped into the room and found it's way into John unexpectedly. Instantly shooting his eyes open, John revealed bright golden eyes.

Laying in bed reading your book you suddenly heard the door getting unlocked. Looking up thinking it was Dean you were surprised to see his father stepping inside.

"Mr.Winchester?" You whispered confused as he closed the door behind him, something seemed off with him.

"I got a spare key, I thought Dean returned already." You frowned as you stood up closing your book, his eyes falling to your legs as you had completely forgotten you were only wearing Dean's shirt not expecting anyone to come inside but him.

"Oh-" you looked down at your legs embarrased not noticing just how much John liked what he saw. His eyes for a split second turning a golden shade before you looked back up. You caught his tongue slowly slide over his lip.

"I should change-"

"Dean left you alone here?"

"Y-yeah," John began to shake his head with half a smile as he slowly stepped closer to you.

"Now why the hell would he do that?"

"He went to work, Mr.Winchester."

"Work huh? He should work on giving you more attention."

"What?" You responded confused with his words, never had he spoken to you this way before. He continued to get closer to you as he spoke, you swore you had never seen this look on John's face before. A look of hunger, his eyes even looked darker than usual as he spoke.

"Come on, dont you think he should be more attentive to you?" John smiled in a sneaky manner as he stared down at you. Truth be told, you did wish Dean payed more attention to you, you did wish he was more available to you.

"I...I-"

"I've watched how he is with you," John interrupted.

"I mean I don't know....if I knew my woman was waiting for me the way you look right now, I'd rush right on home." You felt his eyes travel down your body then back up until they met your eyes again. You couldnt believe what he was saying, the way he was looking at you.

"See, if you were mine..things would be very different," John stepped closer making you back against a wall. Your eyes widened in shock at everything that poured out of him.

"Mr.Winchester...what are you doing..?" You whispered.

"Oh, dont tell me you havent caught me looking at you since I met you-" he responded feeling a rush inside him.

"I'm-Im happy with Dean."

"Are you?" He whispered in a husky voice, it's like he could see right through you.

"So if I were to gently brush my hand over your thigh-" he did just that as he stared directly into your eyes.

"You wouldnt like it?" You gasped.

"Please..this isnt right.." You whispered making him smile, he could tell you liked it but didnt want to admit it.

"You're telling me this doesnt turn you on?" His hand now reached in between your thighs feeling the warmth making him moan low.

"But Dean-"

"Shh..." John lifted a finger to your lips as he began to feel you on top of your underwear. You moaned with a sigh of relief closing your eyes as you felt his hand gently grab the side of your neck. John didnt stop moving his fingers in a circular motion against you, you didnt find the strength in you to stop him.

"You like that?" He whispered as you opened your eyes before he leaned in and aggressively kissed you. Submitting to him you took his kiss and let him do as he pleased. His hand still caressing the side of your neck as he bit down on your bottom lip. Your hands ran up his chest before he roughly snapped off the buttons of his flannel shirt. He stepped back slowly unbuttoning his pants and revealed his hardness to you.

"Mr.Winch-"

"John, baby. Call me John."

You bit your lip as he sat back on a chair and motioned for you to get on top of him. Not being able to hold yourself back you walked towards him as he quickly pulled your underwear down and roughly put you on top of him. Instantly you felt him enter you and you began to ride him. The two of you moaned simultaneously as you rode him hard, you had never felt anything like him before. A part of you couldnt believe what you were doing but another part of you didnt want to stop. John pulled your shirt up and pulled your body close to him, sucking on your breasts as you continued to move.

"Oh yeah, Jenna.." John groaned before grabbing your face and kissing you hard as he grinded your hips on him.

"Turn around," John spoke breathlessly as you quickly stood up and did as he asked slowly lowering yourself back down onto him.

"Oh yes.." you whispered.

"Feel better than Dean doesnt it?" He spoke hoarsely and spanked your ass hard making you scream.

"Oh, John..." you moaned as he grabbed you by the waist hard, screaming in pleasure you didnt realize what was happening behind you. In the middle of riding him, the demon was released from John's body. John suddenly realized what the hell he was doing and froze under you. The sensation so intense he almost came in that moment realizing what he was doing. His hands still tightly on your hips as you continued to bounce on him he let out a deep breath.

"Like that?" You moaned looking back at him making him let out a gruff noise as he saw your face.

"Jenna-" he panted as you rode him hard, he couldnt believe what he was doing but you felt so damn good. He couldnt stop you and he couldnt stop himself. You noticed his moans grow deeper before suddenly feeling him stand up and push you face down on the bed. John lost complete control of himself as he thrusted into you.

"I'm sorry-I cant stop-" he grunted low as he continued to drive himself into you. You couldnt understand what he was saying and only felt him move faster.

"John! John!" You screamed with how aggressively he moved your body, holding your arms behind your back, but you loved how it felt.

"Oh my god.." he groaned deeply before pulling out and gasping loudly as he unloaded himself on your ass.

"Wow," you whispered as he stepped away out of breath and you slowly pushed yourself up. Just as you turned to face him he turned away from you. You frowned as he remained quiet fixing himself up, getting dressed.

"John?" You whispered as he leaned his hand on the table lost in his thoughts.

"Are you okay?" You asked making him turn to you and look down at your body.

"Get dressed," he looked away still out of breath, he couldnt take seeing your body bare in front of him.

"What's wrong-"

"That wasnt me," he whispered roughly.

"What?" You let out a chuckle in disbelief.

"Something took over me-" he repeated although he knew you'd have no idea what he meant.

"But I couldnt stop myself after...I didnt wanna stop...Jesus Christ, Jenna..I've wanted you for a while." You stood in silence staring at him, still in shock with what just happened. You had no idea from the moment John met you he was attracted to you.

"John-"

"Please dont say my god damn name like that, I'll take you again before Dean comes." He blurt out and you had to admit he sounded very sexy saying it in his deep voice. But suddenly you remembered Dean and looked away.

"What is it?" He walked towards you with a frown.

"What do you mean what is it? What about Dean..what's he going to think-"

"We dont tell him a damn thing, Jenna." He looked down at you in a very serious manner.

"Leave with me," he suddenly blurt out making your eyes widen.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Leave with me now, we'll go anywhere I just...I need to feel you again tonight and I wont allow Dean to have you again."

"John..." you whispered feeling confused yet aroused with his dominating words.

"Jenna, please." John had no idea what came over him, all he knew was that he couldnt ignore how badly he wanted you.

"I know you want more of me, you're just afraid to admit it. How do you think it's going to be staying around him? You think I'll be able to keep my hands off you, sweetheart?"

"I just-"

"You think I wont try to be inside you every chance I get?" Your eyes practically rolled back at his words, you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

"Let's go, Jenna. Pack your shit and let's go before he comes."

Without saying a word you gave in and ran around the room collecting your belongings in your backpack. John took hold of your stuff leading you to his truck. Without second guessing anything or looking back, you got in the car and let John drive you away..

#jeffrey dean morgan #john winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #john winchester x you #john winchester #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic

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