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#everyone in e company did

ohraicodoll · 1 year

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DESPERATELY NEED FERAL READER WITH EP 8 WITH AN INJURED JOEL AND KIDNAPPED ELLIE…….. I KNOW OUR CRAZY QUEEN WOULD KILL EVERYONE ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Yall asked for it lol

Violent Delights Joel Miller x f!Reader The Last of Us 6.7k Words/ 3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: They took her kid and she was getting her back. Warning: Graphic depictions of violence and torture

She woke up with a start, having drifted off unknowingly after trying to keep watch, a sense of disorientation as she tried to figure out where she was and what was happening. The basement. They were still in the basement, the cold leeching any warmth from the walls and floors, the haggard breathing of her companion her only company. It’d been over 48 hours since she last slept, since Joel was hurt and they’d had to drag him into the house and patch him up. He wasn’t in good shape. Joel was so close to death’s door, it terrified her. They were so close to losing him and she had never felt more helpless.

She could still hear his pained groans, the glazed and blank look in his eyes, as she put pressure on the bleeding hole in his stomach just a couple days before. “Don’t you dare die, Joel. You still have to make shit up to me and you can’t do that dead. You can’t leave us again.” He’d tried to tell them to leave him. To go back to Tommy’s and leave him behind, the stubborn asshole. But Ellie managed to find the first aid kit and they’d sewn up the hole, wrapping it best they could with the little supplies they had. She knew it wasn’t enough. There could be shards left from the baseball bat, they weren’t the cleanest, nothing was sterile. She didn’t even know if something internal had been damaged. But it was all they could do. They’d been so focused on getting to Colorado they’d been using their food storage rather than hunting over the past week. Now it was biting them in the ass, their supplies dwindled. She’d managed to briefly go out and hunt down a rabbit, but game seemed scarce and leaving meant leaving Ellie and Joel alone. Without Joel, it was hard to sleep, look after Ellie, look after him and keep him stable, look after the fucking horses, and hunt. She was overwhelmed. So sleep went out the window. She took watch when Ellie was asleep, went and tried to hunt and scavenge the nearby houses when she was awake, and kept an eye on Joel in between taking care of the two horses in the garage. But at some point she’d fallen asleep finally, fallen deep and hard enough that she hadn’t noticed Ellie slipping the rifle from her hands and leaving the two adults alone. A small scribbled note was placed on her lap on a piece of what looked like newspaper, “Be back soon -E.” She scrambled to her feet, looking around and cursed herself. Joel was still breathing steadily but his brow was covered with sweat from the infection he was staving off. Both their packs were against the wall but Ellie’s was gone and the panic that took hold was like a lightning bolt. It stole the breath from her lungs. Ellie was gone, Ellie was gone, Ellie was gone- it was a racing thought that circulated over and over again. Her main purpose, main job, and she’d fucking fallen asleep.

Her heart jumped further at hearing footsteps above her head, the slight creak and shift in the old wood, a door slamming…then it all came out in deep relief as she recognized the light shuffling.

Ellie raced down the steps, cheeks pink from cold and wind, and breath huffing out in a rush as she entered the basement.

She grabbed the girl immediately, shaking her by the shoulders with the vestiges of panic still in her blood, “Where did you go, Ellie? You weren’t supposed to leave!”

The teenager paused, eyes frantic and a little wild, but a tough set to her lips as she shook her head, “I went hunting and you needed sleep! I had to, but look! I got Joel medicine!” Ellie took the bottles out of their wrap, quickly moving away from her and kneeling down to Joel, beginning to lift up his shirt before she could even get a good look at what she had. The wound was ugly and discolored and she could hear him groan at the small touches. Her mind was still caught up in the panic of discovering the girl was gone and she quickly snatched the bottles away before the syringe was inserted. “Where did you get this?” she asked, turning it over in her hands. Penicillin. Two whole bottles of penicillin, practically liquid gold in their world, and Ellie had managed to get it while she slept. The teen looked nervous and tried to snatch it back, but she was quick even if she was exhausted and pulled her hand away, “Please, can we give it to him first and then I’ll explain?” Her eyes were so big for her face, cheeks pink. Her desperation to help Joel was evident. Ellie knew how bad he was doing and believed she held the cure to it all in her hands. She could only sigh and hand it back over, instructing her to give just a fourth of the bottle and to tap the syringe. Joel would probably have a heart attack if he knew she was letting the kid give it to him, but she knew Ellie had to do this herself. It was her win and she had to feel like she was the one saving him so she let her. But then they both stared, her knowledge only getting them that far. “Where the fuck am I suppose to put this?” Ellie cursed, looking at the wound and Joel’s arm, eyes switching between hers and his closed ones, “Fuck, how are we supposed to do this?” She cursed herself. Her medical knowledge was mediocre. Stitching, cleaning wounds, pulling out bullets, the basics they needed. Infections and medicine she had no clue about, “Just give it to him in his stomach. As long as it enters his blood stream, it should be fine.” At least, that’s what she thought. Ellie winced and inserted the needle, Joel giving out pained groans as it sunk into the sensitive area. They both watched the plunger empty the contents and then she pulled it out, trying to clean the needle the best she could. They only had one syringe and would have to reuse it. “And now we wait,” the teen commented and looked at his face as if at any second he would be magically better. He would wake up and smile and tell her good job. But he didn’t, staying silent on the small makeshift bed. “No, now you tell me where you went and how you got that,” she bit out, sitting on the other side of Joel to face her. Ellie winced and looked down at the small glass bottles in her hand, “You needed to sleep and we needed food. I know you think you can take care of all of us, but you can’t and I wanted to help by trying to hunt.” “That’s not your responsibility-” “It doesn’t matter. I wanted to help,” Ellie cut her off but then sighed, “And I did manage to actually get a deer…but I ran into these guys...” Instantly, she was on high alert, eyes searching everything that was visible and checking her for any wounds, “You ran into people and you’re barely telling me!” “I know!” the young girl argued back, hand resting on top of Joel’s, “They found my deer before me and said they were from a group with starving women and children. They offered to trade for half the deer and said they had medicine. I did everything I was supposed to! Got them to drop their guns, unloaded their rifles, and had them back away. One went to get the medicine and I kept the gun on the other.”

“So you gave them half the deer and they gave you the medicine then just let you go?” she asked and clenched and unclenched her fists. Ellie wouldn’t look so nervous if that was the whole story and she wasn’t nearly tired enough to have been dragging half a deer carcass back. Shrugging, Ellie grimaced and refused to meet her eyes, “That was the deal…but they knew who we were. The people that attacked us at the university belonged to their group and this guy started talking about how one of theirs had been killed by a crazy man with two girls. He knows that was Joel. I don’t know why he let me go, but I think they’re looking for us.” With a curse, she quickly stood, hands on her hips and pacing in a tight circle, “Fuck. Fuck. And they didn’t come after you?”

“No, I think they let me go because I was a kid.” She doubted that. People rarely were that charitable, even to children in this world. Especially a child with a gun and an attitude like Ellie’s. The unspoken words were there though. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t come for her and Joel though. Ellie may be deemed innocent but the two of them were problems and only one of them was in commission currently. But what could they do? They couldn’t move Joel in his state. They couldn’t leave him behind either. They were stuck. “Okay. Maybe if they let you go they don’t plan on coming. Maybe they think both of us are injured if you were out on your own and won’t come,” she lied comfortingly and tried to speak the words into existence, knowing the kid was probably feeling guilty and needed some hope. They needed rest, needed to breathe for a second, and panicking now wouldn’t help. It took a while to relax enough to let the adrenaline fade away.

Ellie laid down, exhausted, tucking into Joel’s side as she had the past couple nights and resting her head on his shoulder. He subconsciously leaned into her, still alive for now. Her heart ached at the sight, the way they held each other in their own ways. She didn’t have the strength to get after the girl more or uproot them out of precaution. They were all exhausted and Ellie had somehow managed to bring hope even if there was a cost.

She sat down by the stairs, flipped her knife between her fingers to keep her awake and focused, and watched the two sleep with her heart in her throat.

The men would come. Now that they knew they were in the area, they would come and they were stuck in this spot until Joel was better. There was no way they could get him on a horse and move him now without undoing all the healing he’d done. A thousand scenarios went through her head, sleep now a distant memory in the face of the panic and anxiety plaguing her. How was she supposed to fight off a group and keep them both safe?

She couldn’t. That was the reality of the situation.

The thought hit her over and over again like a blow to the chest, the knife turning between her fingers. _________________________________________ Morning came and she could see Ellie’s disappointment that the medicine hadn’t instantly woken Joel up and made him all better. To ease her mind, they gave him another dose, trying to make the bottles last before shoving the remainder in their bags. They were out of food, the rabbit she had caught two days ago long gone without a way to store it. Joel still wasn’t eating or drinking and she worried that even if they got the infection under control, his body wouldn’t be strong enough to get better. Things were bad. The possibility of Joel dying was a constant chime in her head. It felt like a mockery that he had left and came back only to be almost taken from them permanently. She was angry. He wasn’t supposed to be the one that took the hit. It had been meant for her but he’d pushed her out the way as the bat swung, breaking on the tree, and then tackled the guy. If it had been her, Joel would know what to do. He could take care of them both or at least would have the strength to leave her behind if necessary. She wasn’t sure she could. She was failing him. Failing them both. The basement was suffocating, pressing in on her, and she took the opportunity to go tend to the horses, leaving the girl and her unconscious companion to the pressing weight of disappointment. Her body was beginning to ache from the lack of sleep and food, joints protesting her movement, but she reached down and scooped snow into the small metal bucket for them to get some water. Soon the horses would starve too or be too weak to carry them. Death was creeping up on them. Looking over the neighborhood they were held up in, she sighed at the obvious foot steps leading up through the streets before beginning to methodically cover what she could. Ellie knew better than to leave a trail but she guessed in her hurry to get the medicine back to Joel and get away from the men she had forgotten. And as birds took off in a rush further down the road towards the wooded outskirts, she froze and her heart thundered in her ears.

She felt fear run through her as her thoughts from the night resurfaced and became reality, a living nightmare. They were coming. They had waited for daylight to search them out and were coming now. She knew it, could feel it, and they were out of time. Quickly covering what she could and making false tracks from the other houses, she ran back inside and flew down the stairs to the basement taking two at a time. No time, there was no time. Ellie startled at her rushed appearance and the way she flew across the room to the rifle and her own pack, “What’s happening?”

“Those men you saw are coming,” she huffed out, grabbing the rifle and checking it was loaded before looking around the room as if she could find the answer there.

Turning to Joel, Ellie began to shake his shoulders as if he were merely sleeping and not borderline in a coma, “Fuck. Joel! You have to wake up, Joel. Joel, wake up! Wake the fuck up, Joel!” But he only gasped, pained whimpers leaving his lips, eyelids fluttering.

She bent down and grabbed Ellie by the shoulders, forcing her to look into her eyes, “Ellie, I need you to listen to me. I need you to take the horse and run.”

“What? No, what about-”

“You run and I’ll follow behind and try to pick them off,” she interrupted, voice adamant, “They’re going to search every house and they will find us eventually. I can’t hold them off like this. I need to know you’re good first and if we’re away from here then it will take the focus off Joel.”

“You want me to go without you?” Ellie’s eyes were wide with fear and her heart ached at the sight, but there was no time.

“I’ll find you,” she promised and dug her fingers tightly into her shoulders as if she could sink the words into her skin, “I will. But you have to go now. We’ll block the entrance to down here, give Joel some time.”

Ellie pressed her lips together and nodded, running to grab her backpack and last minute grabbed one of the larger knives they had. Running back over to Joel, the teen knelt down and placed it on his chest, forcing his hand to grab it. She let her while grabbing the rest of her stuff and placed Joel’s pack into a small cubby under the steps to make it less noticeable.

“Okay, look at me,” Ellie whispered to him while he only groaned in reply, “There are men coming, okay? I’m gonna lead them away from you, Red is going to help get rid of them. But if anybody makes it down here, you fucking kill them. You got it?”

“Ellie, hurry,” she bit out, peeking out the small window along the top of the wall. “Joel, do not fall asleep,” the teenager pleaded desperately, squeezing his hand around the knife. She could see his eyes partially open, see his lips trying to move and his fingers twitching trying to grasp the knife. But Ellie finally got up quickly and rushed up the stairs. She went to follow after her and paused, staring back at the unconscious man on the floor. A part of her whispered that this could be the last time she saw him alive. One or both of them could be dead if this didn’t go right. Heart in her throat, she ran back to him and kneeled, kissing his forehead and grasping his hand. “Stay alive for us, please, Joel,” she whispered, squeezing the hand around the knife, but getting back up and running up the stairs. She tried not to look back. Both of them moved the tall kitchen cabinet over the door entryway to the basement, trying to shuffle things around to not make the spot obvious before heading to the garage. They got both horses out, grabbing what she needed from hers and sending silent apologies to Tommy before forcing it to gallop away in the opposite direction with a sharp smack. The other she saved for Ellie to ride, closing the garage door behind them. They’d figure out transportation later when they were out of this mess, but they needed the guys off their trail and two different horse tracks would help. With quick hands, she helped Ellie climb up onto its back.

Shakily, she bit out, “You ride hard and fast and loud. They’re going to come after you but if you go fast they won’t catch you and I’ll hit them from behind. They only know for sure about you right now. Do not look back, Ellie. I’ll find you once it’s safe, I promise.” Ellie was shaking but tried to put on a brave face, nodding and holding onto the reins. She wanted to hug the girl, tell her it was going to be okay, but she wouldn’t lie to her. Not now. The men were close, she knew that. She patted the rear of the horse and nodded a final goodbye, beckoning her to go forward. Her heart screamed to not let her go, that it was safer with her than alone, but they were backed into a corner and she had no choice. They wouldn’t win in a shootout and losing meant Ellie would die. So she watched as the girl rode away down the street away from her, turning until she was completely out of sight, and tried not to flinch at the gunshots that came soon after and the yells of men. She tried to shut off the part of her that wanted to panic, to react and worry. That wasn’t the part she needed to listen to at the moment. Running as far as she could, crossing over fences and staying against the walls of the house, she followed the sound of loud hoof beats and chased after them as they chased after Ellie. Her ears caught on one of them screaming that she was to be left alive, but that didn’t ease the worry in her. Being captured alive wasn’t always a good thing. One of the slower men chasing Ellie fell the furthest behind, wheezing in the cold and trying to clamber in the dense snow. Her own knife in hand, she ran and jumped onto his back, using both their weight to send them forward onto his front behind the cover of some of the shrubs.

He hadn’t been expecting to be attacked from behind and it took him a moment to try and struggle, to lift his face out of the snow to breathe, and she took advantage of that by stabbing deep into the back of his neck. He groaned, the sound muffled, and she pulled the blade out and sunk it in again and again with a growl. The snow was staining red around them. He stopped moving. One down. She stood and took off, the cold biting into her lungs and stealing her breath. The terrain was hard and the one kill had put her farther behind the group, forcing her to cut across more backyards to catch up, but she could only hope Ellie had done what she asked and was out of range. She could catch the rest of them once they scattered. But then a gunshot rang out close by. The sound of a horse’s cry ripped through her, tore her soul to shreds, and she knew if she lived beyond the day she would hear that sound forever in her nightmares.

She ran. She left all care of stealth behind and ran fast and hard, dodging trees and fallen branches and then ran faster when another gun shot rang out. The chest felt like it was being cleaved open by the panic, fear gripping her tightly. They wouldn’t have shot her. They wouldn’t have killed her. She was a kid, they wouldn’t-

And then she watched from the trees as the group surrounded Ellie who was on the ground, her horse unmoving not far away, and a tall skinny man picked her up and began to walk away with her. She raised the rifle, looking down the scope, and cursed as the men separated and began to head back into the neighborhood. No doubt to continue their search for Joel and her.

She could see Ellie’s face through the scope, the loll of her head, but she was gripped too closely to the man’s body. He was walking further and further away. Two sides of her screamed. Leaving to go after them meant abandoning Joel, but staying behind meant leaving Ellie. She wanted to press the trigger, shoot, but knew it was too risky with Ellie in the man’s arms. She could so easily accidentally kill the girl if she was one inch off and her hands were too shaky from exhaustion to be precise. Only some of the group was going back, the others looking like they were continuing to scout the area.

She knew what she had to do, what Joel would tell her to do, but the reality of it felt impossible. If they found Joel, he’d die for sure. But she wasn’t sure she could live with leaving Ellie.

The men with the girl were getting farther away and a choice had to be made.

So she swallowed the sob in her throat and let the rage she felt consume her completely, push her forward, and followed behind the group to where they would take her kid. __________________________ It was getting harder and harder to follow along as the wind began to kick up a notch. She needed to see where they were taking Ellie, but she was tired and the cold was sinking in, her body struggling to keep going. And as they entered the town, it was getting difficult to avoid being seen. Too many buildings, too many open areas, and she didn’t know who could be watching. She knew they had entered one of the nearby buildings, but wasn’t sure which. The clock was ticking in her mind, Ellie’s life on one hand and Joel’s on the other. What good was she if she couldn’t save her people? Blood crusted on her fingers as she entered the first of the buildings quietly, finding a back entrance. It was dark but she could hear voices nearby as she found herself in some kind of storage room, the cold still reaching her through the walls. She wasn’t used to carrying the rifle. It had always been Joel’s weapon thanks to its weight, her preferring knives or a small pistol or even a bow when she could find one. So when she crouched down to ease her way over to the swinging door leading further inside, she winced when it thudded and scraped against the floor, the sound so loud in her ears. The voices paused and she froze, eyes wide and watching the door. There was shuffling and she quickly backed away into a darkened corner, pulling her knife out. Steps came closer and she held her breath, trying to calm her racing heart. The door swung open and she could see a man enter, beard a little rough and looking a little ragged, cheeks red from the cold. He frowned, looking around, gaze shifting over what he could. He turned to look at the back door, back facing her, and only then did she realize she had tracked snow inside and it hadn’t quite melted. Lunging, she stuck the blade deep into his lower back with all her might and threw her arm around his neck, choking him hard. A cry of pain tried to leave his lips, breath cut off, and he struggled wildly. She twisted the knife, feeling blood coat her hand. “Where is the girl?” she hissed, jerking the blade deeper. He sobbed and made pathetic mewling sounds of pain, voice wispy from lack of air, “Please, I don’t know-” She twisted, hearing the squelch of flesh tearing, “The teenage girl your buddy grabbed, where is she?” The distinct smell of piss lingered in the air and he sobbed out, “I don’t know! Oh god.” Steps were coming close again and she growled, keeping her grip on the knife buried in his body and shifting her arm away from his neck to hold the back of his collar. He wheezed in air, blood starting to bubble from his lips. The door burst open and the distinct sound of a gun rising echoed in the tiny room, only to pause as she held the man in front of her like a shield, mostly hidden by his body. “Howard-” A woman’s voice. All the people who had attacked them had been men.

She wouldn’t have the information she needed. With a growl of frustration, she shoved the body at her, letting his dead weight hit her and trap the woman against the wall. She let out a startled cry and the delay gave her just enough time to unholster her pistol and shoot her in the head. The numbness that was a twin to her rage had sunk into her skin, blanketing her all over. She’d search the buildings, one by one, and kill whoever she had to to find her kid. She didn’t care. Stepping over the bodies, she moved into the area they had been in before she drew their attention and paused, icy horror filling her. A leg was in the process of being cut apart, small chunks set aside and being wrapped up as if to store for later. It was a kitchen, most likely used to prepare food for stage, large makeshift smokers and pits along the back unused. The ticking clock in her mind sped up as the reality of what she’d uncovered hit her. Cannibals. These people that had taken Ellie were cannibals. A strong hit to her back sent her stumbling forward and clattering to her knees. She grunted and scrambled forward as a stomp missed her, hitting the ground instead. There’d been someone still in the room and she’d been too distracted to notice.

Rolling onto her back, gun still in her hand, she aimed and managed to shoot the knee out of her assailant as he raised a butcher knife. He crumpled to the ground with a cry and she got to her feet slowly, gun raised and trained on him.

The guy was younger, but thin and haggard looking. His bravado hadn’t fully left him though as he stared her down, anger in his eyes, “You fucking bitch. You blew out my fucking knee.” He tried to get up but she aimed at his head, making him freeze. “I’ll shoot the other one too if you don’t shut up and tell me where the girl you kidnapped is,” she snarled, adrenaline helping to keep the firearm steady on him. His nose wrinkled and he spit at her, brow furrowed.

Stubborn. Younger guys were so stubborn.

She pulled the trigger and watched his other knee explode as the bullet met his target. The man screamed and she quickly knelt down, shoving her hand over his mouth and placing the still warm barrel against his forehead. Tears leaked out his eyes, making little dirt tracks through the grime on his skin.

“Where the fuck is she?” she screamed into his face and the sound was almost inhuman, gravel and fury warping it almost into a howl.

But he only shook his head, eyes defiant. Frustrated, she stood, looking at the meat cleaver in his hand and the human leg on the table. She didn’t have time for this. Ellie was out there and the situation was worse than she thought. Not even meeting his eyes, she raised the gun and shot him in the head. He wasn’t going to give her any information.

She raced back outside through the back door she had entered, heart in her throat and a panicked scream wanting to leave her lips.

The storm was picking up as an idea hit her. If she searched each building, there was no guarantee she’d find someone with information in time. She had to draw their attention. Maybe lure them out. They had wanted Ellie alive for the moment. If she could distract them, it may buy her time.

Chewing her lip, she kneeled behind the building and swung her pack around to dig through it. Her hand wrapped around a small glass bottle that had been carefully secured in the middle of her clothes and yanked it out along with one of her old shirts. They’d been saving it for emergencies, using it to sterilize what they could, but she needed it for something else now. Her face stung from the cold wind and her hands shook, but she managed to tear cloth and shove it into the liquor bottle, saturating the fabric, before she put her pack back on and stood.

Time to make a big fucking distraction.

Blocking the wind with her hands, she lit a match and watched as the tip of the cloth burned bright with flames.

With a snarl, she tossed the molotov through the window of the next building, ducking down and watching as the flames exploded inside. Screams and shouts followed, telling her there had been people inside, and she waited for more voices to join them. Someone would investigate or come outside.

Like clockwork, a man rushed out into the cold and she gripped her bloody knife at the familiar face. One of the men that had come back with Ellie. He cursed and ran through the snow, yelling that he was going to grab the fire extinguisher next door while the others scrambled to put the flames out. She followed, quiet, lava flowing through her and teeth bared. She couldn’t even feel the cold anymore.

The wind blocked any sound she made as she rushed after him into the alley and lunged, shoving him into the cold brick wall with a loud crack. She growled and grabbed his hair, gripping it tightly and smashing it into the bricks once then twice. He tried to push away and turn, but she kneed him hard in the spine, driving him to his knees. “Where is the girl?” she snarled into his ear, knife to his throat. Blood poured down an open wound on his forehead, one eye blinded by red, as he finally took in who had grabbed him, “fuck you,” “Wrong answer,” she yanked his hair and slammed it into the wall again. When he went to raise his hand to fight her, she stabbed the blade through his hand and into the ground. His screams were carried away by the wind and snow, the shouts of his group telling her they were still distracted by the fire. “The girl your group grabbed,” the words were all razors and broken glass, almost the sound of an animal snarl, “Where did you take her?” He sneered at her, trying to put on a strong front through the pain, “That bitch is probably soup by now.” She stepped on the knife, the blade so far in his hand the hilt was pressing against the back, “I can make this last a fucking lifetime. Your choice. Where-” “Please, don’t-” Frustrated, she ripped the knife out and placed the tip just inside his mouth, “Last chance. Where is she?” The tip clinked against his teeth and he hung his mouth open to avoid being cut, his beard a mess of blood and spit and green eyes wide with fear finally. She tried not to feel satisfaction as seeing that, understanding setting in for him. He lifted his bloody hand and tried to point across the street, stuttering out, “Steakhouse. The fucking steakhouse. David has her in there.” She looked at him, eye swollen, and blood coating the front of his face, clearly terrified.

Slowly, she took the blade away, watching his lips wobble with sobs and slight relief. Then she slit his throat, continuing to move behind the buildings even as his blood sprayed out and soaked her clothes and his pleas gurgled and quieted.

The steakhouse was a few more buildings down across the street, “Todd’s Steakhouse” still written on the sign out front. The storm was a blizzard now, sharp stinging snow hitting her skin and turning the blood on her into patches of ice. There were yells, panicked screams, and she wondered if they had found the bodies. If they had found the blood and chaos she had left in her wake.

But with a destination in sight, she had let her guard down and she cursed herself later on for it. Arms wrapped around her torso, crushing the rifle into her back, and she kicked at the air as she was dragged back against a brick wall.

“You fucking bitch!” Screamed into her ear and she was tossed to the ground, teeth clattering from the impact.

A kick landed in her stomach and she grunted, the air leaving her lungs, but she had enough sense to grab onto the leg and cling to it. The move caught the man off balance and he tripped, falling to the ground next to her. Her blade was somewhere in the snow and she struggled to dig around for it, sharp steel nicking her fingers as she found it only to be thrown onto her back.

The man climbed on top of her, straddling her waist, his weight so heavy and her pack on her back making the move crushing. She grit her teeth and bucked, thrashing to try and get him off of her. But he only grinned, pulling back and decking her in the face. Stars lit up behind her eyes, a high pitch ringing all she could hear as pain exploded through her head.

He pulled back to punch again and her fingers found the cold metal in the snow. She wrapped her hand around it, feeling the sharp steel cut into her palm as she grabbed it by the blade instead of the hilt, and stabbed it into his lower throat. She didn’t stop, only switching to pull it out by its handle this time, and stabbed again and again, blood reigning down onto her.

With a howl, she shoved him off of her and sent a final stab into his face, snow soaking into her and pain a radiating heat. Everything hurt and it was an effort to get up and roll onto her side, staring at the decimated body next to her.

She spit blood on him and stood. There was smoke coming from all around her, the fire having caught from the molotov and moving on building to building. Across the way, smoke could be seen from the steakhouse and she swallowed her pain, letting adrenaline carry her to the front doors. Her hands shook as she tried the handles, pulling again and again but they stayed locked and shut. Growling, she threw her shoulder into it. She was so close. She had found the place and was so close and a locked fucking door was all that was keeping her away. Her breathing was quick and frantic as she looked over the front and tried to reason that there had to be a back door or an employee entrance. Her hands skimmed the wall to try and keep upright, knowing soon the exhaustion and pain would take over, but she tried to push it back. Ellie had to be close. She needed to keep going a little bit further and then she’d get her kid and they’d go get Joel.

Her steps stumbled and she pushed off the wall, screaming at herself to stay steady. There, she could see the back door. Plain and wooden, easy enough to shoot the lock off and get inside. With shaky fingers, she unhooked the rifle from her shoulder, the weight of it almost unbearable, and took two shots to get the lock blown off. Her legs were shaky as she climbed the few steps and opened the door, smoke pouring out. She coughed and tried to wave it away, stepping inside and feeling the heat. She had taken only a few steps into the building and stopped, hearing a familiar voice. “Red?” Relief flooded her, eyes instantly filling with tears, as Ellie emerged from the smoke not too far in front of her. Ellie was there, hair a mess and half tumbling out of her ponytail, blood splattered and smeared all over her face and clothes. It took her a while to realize she was standing there, actually standing there, watching as the girl stumbled forward and wrapped her arms tightly around her waist.

Smoke and fire was all around them, but she couldn’t care because she had Ellie and they were both alive and safe now. With shaky hands, she managed to direct them back out of the building and into the cold, fresh air. Her promise rang in her ears and she whispered them out loud as she clung to the girl, “I found you. I found you. I’ll always find you.” And she had, but not quick enough. She knew that something awful had happened, that Ellie was now one step closer to being what her and Joel were. The tough exterior had crumbled away and all that was left was a shocked girl who’d had a piece of her soul cleaved away. Her nose was busted and she knew that look in her eyes, the horror and pain at doing something ugly but necessary. Ellie’s lips were shaking as she looked her over and she was so focused on the girl she almost didn’t see Joel coming around the corner. Joel, standing and whole and alive, coming towards them like Ellie was a gravity well pulling both of them towards her. His eyes met hers and the relief was bright, even if she was dripping in blood. But Ellie hadn’t noticed the shift in attention, hadn’t heard his steps, and when he went to grab her she bucked and thrashed in his arms in sheer desperation. So much like her, a wild animal fighting not to be caged. Her heart tore apart, shredded to pieces, at the painful screams then broken sobs as she realized who was holding on to her.

Joel only kept whispering, “It’s me, it’s me, I’m here.” “He- I-” she stuttered, eyes glazed and searching both of theirs. Joel held on with all his might, trying to ease her, gentle words soothing. And the girl crumbled, falling into his arms and clinging to him tightly as much as he was clinging to her. His eyes met hers and she let the exhaustion hit her and carry her towards them, falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around them both. All three of them, blood soaked, finally home with each other.

______________ Feral Reader Taglist: @alouise20 @faceache111

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x feral reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x oc #tlou ellie #ellie the last of us #tlou #the last of us #feral reader #series: feral #raicodoll writes

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42spideys · 11 months

Text

TEDDY BEAR — e-42!miles morales x m!reader

synopsis: some miles hc’s about him dating a cute chubby boy and how he is with him!

pairing: earth 42 miles morales x male reader, earth 42 miles morales x black male reader

tags: m.reader, fluff, slightly suggestive, possessive miles, really intense love from miles

notes: IM GOING THROUGH BRAINROT OUGHHHH I LOVE U MILES

when you and miles got together it was a shock to everyone, especially you. you weren’t the most talkative person, ridiculously shy, but he still found himself drawn to you.

you were the cute chubby boy that he sat next to, he liked to sneak glances at you. enjoying who your cheeks puffed out when you were confused on a question, his favorite is when you give his arm a small tap and try to ask for help. he always teases you when this happens, he can’t help himself, you’re just to cute :((

you pouted at the math equation in front of you, you tried 16 different ways to solve it until you finally gave up. you glanced over to your seat partner, miles, he always made your face heat up. you chewed on your bottom lip, trying to hype yourself up to ask him for help in a way that was comfortable for you. you tapped his arm with a shaky hand, he tilted his head towards you with hooded eyes filled with boredom.

you almost forgot what you wanted to ask him, the way the sun bounced off his body, making him glow almost like an angel. everything about him was perfect to you, his eyes, his nose, his lips…you felt yourself get lost.

“focus, guapo, what did you tap me for,hm?” you felt your face burn in embarrassment, you slid the piece of paper towards miles with a pout, pointing at the question you were fighting for you life for.

cute. you were always really, really cute.

he follows you around the school, kinda like a bodyguard. you were happy to have him for company, he knew that you didn’t talk unless you either wanted to or had to, so when you guys were together he would do all the talking for you.

he is so protective over you even before you guys get together, glaring at people when they look at you funny, outright pulling you away from situations he finds weird.

and he’s so so jealous…

you could be in a one sided conversation with another student, giving small “mhms!” once and awhile, miles literally wrapped an arm around your shoulders and just walked away with you.

when you whine at him he’ll just give you a “she was talkin to you funny, don’t fall for that, rey.” you groaned a fake annoyance at him before giggling at his small pout.

and when you guys finally get together

he is going CRAZY

spoiling you with art of you, buying you your favorite snacks, little stuffed animals, cute collectibles, and so much more.

you’re his prince and he has to treat you like so! he won’t have it any other way >:(

“miles!? what the hell, you shouldn’t have gotten me this stuff! how much was-“ miles silenced you with a soft kiss to your lips, you whined at the contact. miles pulled away from your wet puffy lips with a smirk, “i’ll buy you whatever i want, you deserve it and so much more, so take it before i tackle yo ass.” you took the large bear and roses from miles arms, your face practically burning off.

miles was all giddy inside, he loved seeing you squirm and get flustered whenever he bought you practically anything. you weren’t used to getting gifts in the slightest, you barley got anything for your birthday and christmas, not that your parent didn’t care about you. money was just really really tight, miles knew that, that’s why he made it his mission to spoil you like you deserved to be spoiled!!

don’t let him catch you being insecure about yourself or saying anything mean about yourself, he will fr go off in disbelief

you’ll mutter something about, “i hate my tummy…i really gotta stop eating.” think miles wouldn’t hear that, but erm…

he absolutely did and damn near broke his neck trying to turn towards you, his face twisted in confusion

what do you mean by that?? who said you could say that about yourself??? do you want your ass beat or something?? (lovingly of course)

“the fuck did you just say?” miles glared at you, making you instantly shrink into yourself. you picked at your fingers, looking away from miles burning glare, “i said,” you heard him get up from his desk and walk over to you. he took your chubby face in his hand and made you look up at him, you instantly melted in his touch. “what did you say, hm? you talkin’ bad about my favorite boy?” “…i said i don’t like my tummy.” you mumbled, you heard miles give a laugh he only did when he was either about to fight or say something absolutely outrageous.

he sucked his teeth before pushing your back on the bed, he lifted your hoodie to expose your tummy, this made you shiver and pout at him. “miles! what are you-“

kiss.

huh?

kiss kiss kiss!

you start giggling as miles continues to kiss and bite your tummy, you tried to pull him away by his braids but he just bit you even harder leaving teeth marks. after he was done with his tummy attack he hovered above you, his gold chain you gifted him for his birthday dangling perfectly above you. “don’t let me catch you saying some dumb shit like that ever again, or i’ll find other ways to keep that pretty lil head of yours straight.” he cooed.

“miles, technically i cant do that because-“

“i will kick you out of my house.”

at first he really didn’t like physical affection, but after you guys made it official he would go crazy if he didn’t get to touch you at least 10 times a day

constantly having his hands or body on your or near you

coming behind you in the halls to wrap his arms around your midsection while getting his head in a nice and comfy position in the crook of your neck, holding your hands and locking pinkies with you, biting your cheeks when he got bored

always kneading your cute chubby tummy like a cat whenever he got the chance

he also loves your neck, like that’s top three on his list of favorite body parts on you. perfect place to leave hickeys and bites :3

“hold still, i’m not done.” miles has been sucking and biting your neck for what seems like hours, your neck was throbbing with pain, you still didn’t even know why he was so intense about giving you these marks. “miles, what the hell are you even doing?” you whimpered into miles ear, he grunted in accomplishment and had a huge smirk on his face. “give me my phone, let me show you my masterpiece.”

you handed him his phone in pure confusion, you rubbed at your sore neck with a pout. “jeez, my neck hurts.” miles chuckled at your complaining, “you could’ve told me to stop at any time, rey.” he unlocked his phone to go to his camera, he placed his hand under your jaw, lifting it upwards to the left. he made sure his hand was in the shot, the whole time he was taking pictures he had a smirk on his face.

“let me see what you’ve been torturing my neck for the past ten minutes for, please.” miles rolled over next to you and handed you his phone, “only because you asked so nicely.” as soon as you saw the pictures you thought you were gonna pass out, miles had somehow sucked his initials in your neck with a bite mark under it. you covered your face in embarrassment, quickly shoving your face in miles chest. “i cant stand you, how am i supposed to walk around with this?” you peaked up at miles who was still just smirking “that’s the point, i want everyone to know that you’re mine and mine alone.”

#earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x male reader #earth 42 miles #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x male reader #miles morales fluff #earth 42 miles morales fanfiction #earth 42 miles morales fluff #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv #atsv x male reader #atsv x reader #42spideys

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astarionapologist · 4 months

Note

My head too is full of bg3 so I'm gonna go ahead and suggest/ request a Halsin x female Tav fic, smut is very welcome hehe :)

Also I'm of the opinion that this man definitely has a breeding kink so if that's something you would write, I'd be really happy about it ^^

Have nice day :)))

OHHH FUCK YEAH DADDY HALSIN ‼️‼️

but no seriously he’s such a big sweetie pie I love him sm

Warning 18+ minors please don't interact!

Includes breeding kink and biting and soft horny Halsin

Nature’s embrace: Halsin x reader

After you finally arrive to baulder’s Gate your next mission is the most important one yet! It’s time to go find a nice spot to set up camp. Exhausted and tired of walking Astarion begs you to take a break! Stay at a tavern for a bit! Stay under some shady buildings! Hells under some trees maybe! Point is he’s done for the day and is begging you along with the rest of the group to agree with him for break. In which you all decide to rent out a room for a couple nights in the Elfsong tavern.

After unpacking and changing out of your armor into more casual clothes your realized how starved you were after such a long journey here. Little did you sense the tall rugged elf was beside you.

“Hungry aren’t you?” He says grabbing both your shoulders in an attempt to scare you.

You let out a shriek and push him away from you unaware of who it truly was.

“GAH HALSIN- you can’t do that to people!” You huffed

“I’m sorry little dove, I couldn't resist, and I overheard the growl of your stomach. It seems you're in need of your next meal. Would you care to join me downstairs? I wouldn't mind covering the expenses, of course."

“Oh? Sure that sounds great thank you! I’m starving! I need to get my hands on something to eat soon or I’ll go crazy” You said slightly daydreaming of all the tasty food you smelled walking past the kitchen to the rooms upstair.

“Me too” Halsin whispered under his breath as his eyes traced the outline of your body.

Your cheeks blushed as you overheard this but since he wanted to be quite the jokester earlier you decided to pay him back~

“What was that? You said as you looked up at him purposely with big doe eyes

“"Oh, uh, me too. I find myself quite starved. To uphold our strengths, we should venture forth and procure something to eat, don't you think?” He said with a hint of panic in his voice

He lets out a small sigh “Let us be on our way”

The two of you head down stairs and sit down at the bar table. You order a bowl of mushroom stew with a wine to complement the mushrooms undertones. Halsin unsurprisingly orders a large juicy steak with a heaping pile of steamed vegetables on the side. Along with you he decides to order a glass of wine. Enjoying each others company you finish your dinner together and decide to head back upstairs. However almost everyone was already asleep in their sections of the floor.

“Ahhh it is getting late little dove, you should go and get some rest. We can always chat more some other time.”

You would be foolish to deny the small trace of sadness that lurched in your heart as he spoke. Unfortunately, your eyes held a bit of sadness that the old Druid could easily detect.

“Oh dove but please don’t worry, I promise we can spend more time together just the two of us eventually if that’s something you’d enjoy?”

You look up at him and give him a small smile and nod.

“Yes I would love that, your company is more than wanted.”

He smirks a little and smiles back. The two of you walk back upstairs to call it a night after enjoying your evening together. Finally, in the comfort of your bed, you slowly drift off to sleep... That is until the middle of the night when you wake up, startled by the sound of commotion near one of the beds beside you. You open you eyes to see Halsin getting ready to leave to who knows where.

“Halsin?….” You whisper at him

“Oh no.” He clears his throat

“My sincerest apologies, I did not mean to wake you from your slumber.”

You get up and sit towards the edge of the bed, you’re a bit groggy still but you decide to ignore it worried your companion is in trouble.

“What is it? Is something wrong? Why are you up so late? You asked in a hushed whisper as you turn on a dim light next to you.

As you look at him, the tall elf blushes, realizing his problem is now more obvious to you. You slowly looked down to see a large tent in his pants. How his crotch looked painfully erect it was almost begging to be attended to.

“Ah… I see…”

“I’m so sorry- it’s just the city is so stressful and I’m having trouble adjusting… not to mention how you-..” He stops talking and swallows a bit of fear as he realizes he just mentioned you.

“How I?” you blush a bit already knowing what he means. Unsurprising enough, Halsin and you have always had a habbit of giving each other bedroom eyes from time to time. You've always noticed how often he’d look at you, especially how his eyes would stare at your ass and thighs. However you both never really acted on anything, you were always too busy on the mission at hand….that is until now.

He sighs “Please you tease me enough as is…. The way your hips sway as you walk… your deep and longing stares….it all drives me mad.”

He turns away from you and says, “I never wanted to do or say something because I thought the timing was always off... And I understand if you wish to ignore me now. I am sorry for disturbing your rest.”

You get up from your bed and hug him from behind.

“Halsin… please don't leave, I would love to be able to spend the night with you… if you’d allow me?”

He chuckles “If i’d allow you?”

He grabs you by the wrist and twirls you to face him. Then he quickly picks you up carries you on one of his shoulders.

“I hope this will suffice as an answer.” He says with a light growl

He takes you to more secluded part of the floor away from any of your companions. He carefully plops you onto a large bed and begins undressing himself. When he’s finished he carefully picks you up yet again and plops you down on his lap.

He looks deeply into your eyes as his hands graze the first button on your shirt. You carefully nod and take a deep breath as he takes no time to undo all the buttons of your shirt. Luckily for Halsin you typically always sleep in your dress shirt and nothing else.

His eyes lit up as he saw the perkiness of your breast appear from underneath your shirt. Without wasting time he takes one into his hand and plays with it while taking the other one into his mouth. He swirls his tongue over your sensitive nibble slightly grazing it with his teeth. This earns a slight low moan from you as you wrap your arms around his shoulder.

He releases your breast from his mouth and kisses you deeply and hungrily. He grabs you by the hips and ass and slowly begins to move you across his large muscular thigh.

“Ha-… halsin.. please I need more,” you say as you grind needily on his thigh.

“You’re not ready, I don’t want to hurt you little dove” he says while kissing your cheek

He then slowly moves you off his thigh just enough for him to stick two fingers inside you. You gasp and hold onto him tighter as he slowly pumps his fingers into your soaking wet cunt.

He uses his other hands to spin small light circles around your clint and begins to speed up his fingers as he continues to pump them inside of you. By now yours seeing stars as you tilt your head back breathing deeply as you feel the druids fingers deep inside you. He can tell you’re close by the way you begin to tense up around him. He curls his fingers making sure to rub you sweet spot of yours to allow him to hear the wonder sounds you make as you come undone around his fingers.

You take a deep shaky breath and looked back into his eyes.

Gods. He thinks to himself, he could have easily finished just watching you come undone by just his fingers alone.

He flips the two of you over so that you’re now underneath him. You moan as you feel his tip rub against your hole.

“Are you ready? I don’t want to hurt you.” He says attempting to suppress how needy he truly is.

“Oh god yes, please hurry! We’ve both waited long enough.” You begged

He carefully slides in slowly so you can take your time adjusting around him. With a small hiss, he bottoms out and is completely inside you. He pauses for a moment kissing your forehead before he slowly begins to move. A slow yet deep pace was set as the druid gripped your hips hard as to not lose control.

You bite his neck in order to keep quiet, yes your other companions are sound asleep and unable to see the sinful acts that are taking place however you still attempt to keep quiet. The sound of skin slapping slowly starts to get louder as Halsin begins to speed up. You look up and make eye contact with him, his eyes are glowing a beautiful shade of gold.

“You drive me wild little dove…. I want to fill you up so badly.” Halsin grunts as he continues to pound deep into you.

“I want to see you squirm underneath me full of my cum…. I want…. Nothing more than to see that.” He huffs and growls out the last part.

“Fuck Halsin… I need you, I need to feel all of you, I need to be filled with you.” You say in between gasps

You’re both extremely close, he grunts as he feels how you quiver and shake around his angry and sensitive cock. He grips your hips tighter and begins to pick up the pace, lifting one of you legs up in the process. You let out a whine as you feel yourself getting closer and closer. Then suddenly a heavy feeling of pleasure consumes your body. You shake and grip his body as he continues to pound his way through your orgasm. When a deep and heavy grunt he finished deep within your cunt, making sure to get every drop deep within you. He pulls out and collapses next to your exhausted figure.

He pulls you in tightly to his chest and kisses your forehead before gently rubbing circles on your back. You slowly drift off to sleep as you hear him quietly say

“Goodnight my little dove”

HOLY FUCK I ACTUALLY FINISHED THIS

like always I did not proof read 👆but I still hope you enjoy, sorry if this was a little rough it’s my first time writing smut.

#baulders gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 blogging #bg3 tav #smut #halsin bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #halsin x reader #halsin #druid halsin #halsin x tav #halsin smut #bg3 smut #halsin x reader smut #smut fic #smut fanfiction #smut smut smut

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heelluring · 2 months

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— wherein your boyfriend, heeseung cheated...

warnings: C H E A T I N G, caught in an act redhanded, angst angst angst, cursing, sex, hoping bad things on someone, punching and slapping, melted ice cream (?)

You can't deny that the relationship between you and heeseung are starting to blur. It started with a simple, 'i'm tired...' until it escalated into no calls for almost a week. Tried to be an understanding girlfriend, giving him as much 'space' as he wants that maybe, you regret doing so. It feels like it just cause further drift in between you two.

You tried asking for help though, that's when your sister, rina came into picture. Your sister tried to reassure you, she is working at the same company as heeseung does and as his senior. "He's just tired, the company's expecting everything to be perfect for this upcoming project and everyone is tensed." She said dismissing your worries when you met her for a coffee.

"You really think so, unnie?"

"I swear, after this week hee will just come back to you as if nothing happened" You were delighted when you heard that. But, when did your sister called your boyfriend by his nickname that you only have the privileged to use? BUT THEN AGAIN, you're still happy with the reassurance she gave you. Holding out hope that you didn't poke around the 'nickname' incident too much. Maybe after working for the same company, they became close. Perhaps, rina and heeseung became each other's support system as they struggle to work in a toxic environment. That made you feel relieved for some reason.

True to her words, heeseung came back to you like nothing happened in the following week. He was all smiles, the happier ever since you seen him. You felt like the past came back when the both of you are just starting with your relationship. Heeseung was so attentive when he came back that time, saying he wanted to spend time together as a payment for all the times the two of you didn't got to do what the other couples do. You were happy, so happy. All the doubts, concerns, and insecurities was once again burned down the ground.

There's also a time where you invited rina to have lunch with you and heeseung, with also the purpose to thank her for reassuring you but of course, heeseung doesn't need to know about that. And so, with the three of you in a table, you can't help but smile and enjoy the company of the two people you love. Can't help but to laugh at their antics as they talk and tell silly stories together.

Then, heeseung had to go into a business trip. He said this would be his ticket to get a promotion, and as his girlfriend, you let him go with a heart burning support. Reassuring, and taking care of everything he need until he left. Weeks passed by and you haven't heard of him. Aside from the occasional, 'I'm okay... don't skip breakfast' there was nothing. No calls or video calls.

And, you understand. Heeseung was working so hard to get this promotion and the only thing you can do to support is by waiting for him. Just like today, as always... you tried your luck, maybe he's free and having his lunch right now since it's morning in the New York whilst it's late at night in Seoul. Maybe he'll finally pick up the phone since according to rina the company is doing some finishing touches and will be back at the end of the week, and besides there's only a 12 hours difference. You always make sure to call him in the morning to not disturb him so now that heeseung will be back soon, you were filled with hope. But then,

The number you have dialed is either—

he's not answering. You tried to dial his number again but it still failed. It's not even ringing, perhaps his phone died. Maybe he's too tired, is he even eating well? You can't do anything but sighed, and continued to walk. With a tab of ice cream in your hand, you finally saw Rina's apartment building. After confirming your identification to the security, you waited for the elevator.

Ever since heeseung left, you tried spending time with your sister. Growing up, you're not that close. And after her help with regards to your relationship, you felt something sparked in between of you causing you to wonder what happened for the two of you to grow apart. Seeing this as an opportunity to build connection, you tried hanging out with her. But, she's been busy for a while. Always saying that you two will hang out once all her work is done. You were concerned about her, of course. It looks like the company is giving her a hard time so you stepped up your game. What could comfort her better than a good creamy ice cream, right?

The elevator produced a sound the same time its doors opened to the intended floor. You calmy took a step, mumbling the unit number over and over again. "205... 205..." You carefully looked at the unit number before finally stopping at the right door. You were about to knock when the door moved open slightly at the sudden force from your knuckles. It didn't create a sound though, the door wasn't locked at all. Or, maybe rina thought she did locked it but failed to do so the last time she used it.

You, then pushed it completely open as the silence greets you. All the main lights are off aside from the light and soft sounds coming from the living room. You started walking through the entrance, and after sensing that there's a person, it automatically opened its lights. A pair of men's shoes scattered lousily at the floor. Your sister obviously got a visitor.

You continued your venture until you came into the living room. The light and the sound you heard earlier came from the TV as you expected, the soft buzz of the actors' voices where the only sounds heard in the entire apartment. Your eyes then travelled to a certain direction, and was greeted by a rather familiar suitcase. Your heart beat in a rather uncomfortable way. You were getting nervous from the thoughts that are slowly creeping inside your mind.

"It's impossible, y/n. Heeseung's still in new york..."

You sighed, trying to control your breathing that you didn't even noticed escalating the same time as your heart beat. After getting courage that you didn't even know where you get, you started walking closer to the couch. A piece of clothing one after another revealed in your eyes. You tried to calm yourself but the way your hands trembled says otherwise, as you bravely grabbed the neck tie that is disposed on the couch together with the others.

It's a classic dark blue with an elegant design. A design that you are so familiar with as the one who personally picked and gifted it for heeseung's birthday last year. You clutched it closes to your heart, as the other one made in contact with your mouth, tears slowly filling your waterlines.

"Ugh—" Your breath hitched at the sound, head swiftly looking at the direction of the master's bedroom to your side. You frozed completely, even your breath stopped. The only thing you can feel is the way you heart beats as you wait for another sound. Maybe it's all in your head, a hallucination. You decided to walk closer to the door, now all numb and deprived of normality.

You thought you're dead inside but what you see on the other side of the door is what further killed you. "Ugh, shit, hee! You're fucking me so good baby. Yes—" It was your sister getting fucked by your boyfriend of 3 years on the bed. You can clearly see how heeseung's cock disappear in her hole as he thrust. How her eyes rolled at the back of her head in every rut. Groans, moans, and slap of skin to skin were the ones dominating the whole room. How can you not hear them the first time you walked in? How can you not see all the signs?

That's when you realize, you were blind all along. How can you not suspect when your sister called your boyfriend by his nickname? How can you not doubt all the smiles and subtle touches they do at the lunch you three did? How can you be so oblivious all this time?

You sighed despite the shaky breath, as you swipe the tears away. This will fucking end now, and you'll make sure to see the end of it as you look at the security camera blinking in corner of the ceiling.

As the moans increased, you decided to kick the door with all the strength you had making it swung open with an alarming noise together with the panic screams you induced to the two people on the bed.

"Shit— Y/N!" Heeseung cursed getting dressed in panic as rina hugged the sheets to cover herself. "Y/N... this is not what it looks—" The man stopped his blabber when you throw the tab of ice cream at them and to everyone's surprise the now melted chocolate ice cream spilled everywhere staining the bed and the two. "We're over..." You said, surprised by how stable your voice are, how void you are of emotions. And, that's the last thing you said before turning around to walk away.

You were about to go out the front door when a pair of hands stopped you on your way, "Wait, y/n... please, love let me explain" Heeseung desperately begged, as he look straight at you. His eyes filled with emotions but... you unfortunately, weren't. His hair was messy, there are marks everywhere on his body, and most of all his lips are swelling with a stain of red lipstick, a profound reminder of his deception.

And, your lack of emotions as you look at him made heeseung devastated. You sneered, harshly swatting his hold before your clenched fists made in contact with his face. Heeseung fell on the floor, shocked as he look up to you. You thought you were drained of emotion but you were completely wrong. You can't feel anything other than, "I am so fucking disgusted of you." ... disgust. And the way your eyes look at him empty, with no expectation whatsoever, as if he wasn't deserving of any emotions even anger from you made heeseung even more distraught.

You felt another presence walking up to you, but before she can even finish apologizing your hands automatically made in contact with her cheeks making her look at you in shock. "I hope both of you suffer far more greater than I felt." and I'll make sure of that. You mumbled before walking completely out of their lives.

heelluring, 2024

#masterlist #enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen ff #enhypen imagines #enhypen angst #angst #lee heeseung #yang jungwon #park jongseong #sim jaeyun #park sunghoon #kim sunoo #nishimura riki

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libertyybellls · 4 months

Text

FEMALE ROBBERY !

pairing; finnick odair x dist4!victor!f!reader

summary; meeting finnick at your capitol victor party, he is nothing short of entranced.

contains; fluff! just pure fluff, innocent- sweet, comforting, brief mentions of forced prostitution but no detail.

a/n; i was lowkey turning into anakin skywalker when i started writing about how much reader hates sand but it adds personality ok…

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

you were shivering, teeth practically chattering. the wide doors that led to the back of the luxurious party-mansion were wide open. your dress offered little warmth and neither did the people around you- their arrogance and bright colors offered no heat, no coziness, no reminders of home.

your wearing a corset dress- low cut, your chest on great display, you feel like the short hemmed bottomed makes you out to flash everyone at this party.

your hair has braids scattered about- your original hair texture is long gone with the amount of heat styling they’ve done on it throughout your victory tour and interviews. bows adorn the ends of each small braid that lays on your now, flat- straight hair.

the meaningless conversation, and congratulations throughout this party is enough to drive you mad. you need air- oh-so cold but nonetheless you needed more air. you’re feet are moving past people- people who grab at you, yelling praises, trying to get a passing word with you.

but you’re mind is racing, you need to sit in silence and breath.

you find a garden- you don’t have enough greenery back in your district, more ocean, too much sand, too much heat.

the sand got everywhere. you couldn’t complain about the ocean- oh, how you loved the water. but once the sand got in your hair, your shoes, your towel, your clothes- it couldn’t get out. it seemed sand would never leave you alone- president snow reminded you all too much of sand.

it felt like an infirmary sentencing, a life estimation. once the words ‘capitols doll’ left his mouth, ‘desirable’, ‘young, sweet, and pretty’ you felt sick- you’d live your life in misery until another innocent tribute would come along and take all of the heat. but you’d always be in a hotel room, in the capitol, entertaining the people like a puppet on a string.

you don’t think you’ve been warm since you heard those words, you don’t think there’s been enough air- but now, in this garden, everything seems okay.

you sit on a bench, rose bushes surrounding you, a few flowers you can name but never seen- only in books.

your hands are in your lap now, fingers playing with one another- your deep breathes began to lower your blood pressure.

until you hear footsteps nearing on the cold- crunchy grass that’s been frozen over from the weather.

he’s tall- shirtless. what stylist would do that to someone in this nippy weather? but you think your stylist would send you off to these parties naked if he had no decency, too.

he’s finnick odair. even the wind flirting your eyes can recognize that. how couldnt you? the poster boy of your district, sex symbol of panem, but you don’t comprehend any of it.

“you’ve found my spot.” he’s smirking, you can understand why people in the capitol swoon over him- not even six seconds and your body rushes with warm blood.

then you process his words, slowly scrambling to grab your clutch and rising to your feet. he puts his hand up, signaling for you to halt your movements.

“it’s nice to have company.” and so you move your bag over , allowing him more room to sit on the bench.

you don’t speak, atleast you don’t know what to say- you don’t ask questions or say something stupid. finnicks voice breaks the thick barrier of silence; “nice party they gave you.”

he’s joking, and his slight laugh makes you laugh. you’d won nearly a month ago- many sleepless nights covered with makeup and fake eyelashes. “yeah, i’m so grateful for them all.” you breathily laugh off.

the playfulness of this all is refreshing. it almost makes you long forget about your grim past and even darker impending doom.

he turns his head towards you, scanning your face- then to the rose bushes surrounding the both of you- then back to your face. “too many roses every where, i’m starting to hate the smell of them.”

you pick up on his small talk, and you almost laugh a little- he’s acting like a grade-school boy. “i’m beginning to think it possibly the ugliest thing natures created now.”

“mags told me about how mentoring you went, we were all relieved when you won.” you wince when you think about that, he knows that better then anyone here. the heart sinking feeling when your brain slips up for a second- that you don’t let yourself think to hard about, nor too long.

“thanks.” he doesn’t even know you yet, but he know that even if you don’t speak too much the ones you do vocalize have meaning, no vacancy in them. “are you cold?” you can’t help but voice your curiosity.

he looks down on himself, almost as though his body brings him guilt in a way. like he’s ashamed to own it, you’re sure you’ll understand soon.

but within seconds his guard is back up, back to the capitol darling. he simply places your hand on his shoulder, he’s forcing your body to move but in the most genuine way anyone has ever done so.

you feel your cold finger tips merge with his radiant shoulder, like a hypothermic to a heater.

finnicks aura is simply heat, not a touch of coldness. you wonder if it’s his insides pouring into his physical being. does he not have any cold feelings in his heart? is he genuine? “how are you warm right now?”

he only laughs as you try to remove your hand from him in the least awkward way you can, placing your hands back into your lap. there’s so many things you want to ask him, tell him. his soul is like a confession booth, that you’ve heard before. all the secrets he knows, all of the words only he’s been told.

“does it get better? even if you’ve been told something that doesn’t make you think it will?” he can only imagine what your last words mean, and now his heart drops. no- not someone like you? so young so unsuspecting, but weren’t they all?

“if you have someone to lean on, you’ll be okay.”

you frown at this, despite your fear of making yourself seem like a complete and utter loser to the golden boy of panem- you say; “and if i don’t?” you can’t help but think about your overworked tired parents, never home, never cared too much. your friends who you don’t see all too much.

“if you don’t,” he looks up from his lap now, eyes locked onto yours, only your eyes ever- not your exposed chest or the dress that rides up your thighs. “you have me if you’re willing, i think we’ve gotten on well.”

this makes you smile to yourself, you can’t look into his eyes any longer you think you’ll get lost. you feel like a school girl, unable to breathe around the presence of your crush. “i don’t know you all that well, finnick odair.”

he shakes his head, “haven’t you read the news, y/n l/n?” he’s mimicking your words, almost in a sing-song way.

“i don’t tend to make premeditated decisions on who someone is based on what the capitol news says. i prefer to get to know them instead.”

“well, let’s get to know eachother then.” his body turns toward you. flattening his hands onto his lap. “favorite color?”

you look at the grass before you, the stems of the flowers around you, the feeble, poor excuses of barely full bushes that line the sand before the water in district four. “green, not a dark green. something in the middle.” your eyes flick back to his, almost the perfect green you were talking about. “and you?”

“blue.” his two fingers pick up the bows at the end of your hair, you almost roll your eyes at this. too charming you could laugh.

“what are you scared of?”

he thinks about this one, taking a moment to relay his thoughts. it wasn’t death, no. he wouldn’t be scared when his time came, he would just hope the people he loves would be okay, that they’d get through it without him.

“becoming one of them.” he nods his head back to the people scuffling about in frilly dresses and skirts around the main party center. “so moral-less, so demanding. so many things i don’t want to be.”

you shake your head now, “i don’t think you could ever be one of them.” to anyone else this would be an insult, being apart of the capitol was little girls and boys dreams. to live so lavishly and carefree. but once you’ve seen it all, you just want to be by the ocean- at peace, unbothered with those who meant the most to you. “you’re much too good for that.”

finnick believes you, it’s like all he’s needed his whole life was your words that had no hint of second meaning. only pure, true, clean. “if it means anything, i know you couldn’t be anyways. no matter how many bows they put in your hair.” he laughs again, that charming chuckle that sends a butterfly to your stomach. “you have a good heart, i hope that it stays that way.”

it’s all so honest , the whole interaction. but you’ve been away from your own party far too long and you’re almost scared to upset people. “i have to go. i’ll see you around, finnick.” his name is foreign to your tongue almost, but its welcome.

finnick then stands quickly, “when will i see you again?” he almost looks worried.

“soon. we live in the same village after all.”

inspired by my favorite, @mrsnancywheeler ‘s fic

masterlist

inbox open!

#finnick odair #finnick angst #finnick fanfic #finnick fluff #finnick imagine #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair smut #finnick odair x reader #finnick oneshot #finnick smut #finnick #thg finnick #hunger games finnick #finnick x oc #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n

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h4ndwr1tten · 5 months

Note

HI omg this has been eating away at me,, could i request an angsty (but with a happy ending) fic where the reader has been in love with kento ever since they were classmates at juju high and she always flirts with him but he rejects her every time up until the present day at shibuya where she saves his life by using a technique that gives him her life force and allows him to regenerate ig or take the blow of the hit and that leaves her on the brink kf death and kento realizes how much he's actually been in love with her the whole time and somehow she survives and he literally g r o v e l s and confesses and UGH this is too long i'm sorry but feel free to change some details to your convenience, TYSMM 🫶🫶🫶

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.

characters — nanami kento x reader

note — i'm genuinely sorry i dont post requests on time :( anyways i didn't know how to end it so if i have time to i might rewrite it? i'm just trying to get this out bc i feel bad for leaving anon hanging.. (CORNY AHH TITLE)

cw — anxiousness, unrequited love (or so it seems) in the first half, violence kinda?, reader gets hurt and ends up in the hospital, kissing on the hand, confession ish, shitty ending might rewrite, not proofread. lmk if i missed any.

synopsis — you've gone through years and years confessing your feelings to kento, but this mission might be the scariest thing you've gone through. even for kento.

goosebumps covered your skin as worry churns in your stomach. on every other mission, you had felt worry and fear regarding the mission, but it was a normal thing that almost every other sorcerer experienced. those feelings, however, weren't the nagging, unrelenting ones you were feeling right now.

no, this was a gut feeling. of what, you couldn't decide. you knew it was a gut feeling because of the way it couldn't be diminished through encouragement and reassurance, and the way it came crawling back to you every time you were able to get your mind off of it. despite knowing you weren't going to be alone in this mission, you couldn't help but feel uncomfortable and fearful for not just yourself, but everyone involved as well.

especially kento.

kento was going on this mission, alongside a few other sorcerers, and the thought of going into this with you provided some solace for your troubles. you felt safe with him, you always have.

ever since your high school days as a student at jujutsu high, you've always been drawn to kento. he was one first friends there, and despite not being exactly best friends, you always cherished his company.

that is until a year later, you began seeing him in a different light, one that was more romantic than platonic. you started noticing the little details that made kento, kento. how he liked to keep his blond hair swept to his right. how he would subconsciously hum to himself when he was focused on something. how he always made room for something sweet after dinner. you began to crave his presence more than you usually did. you started seeking him out in classes and in crowds. you tried your best to impress him, whether it be working hard in class, giving your all during practice, or fighting hard on a mission. you even began flirting with him, starting off subtle before becoming more obvious. you did everything you could think of just so he could see you the way you saw him.

you remember the first time he rejected you. you remember how at first, you were in denial because you really thought you had a chance. you cried to shoko about it, and somehow satoru and suguru as well (they were eavesdropping and jumped into the conversation). then you cried more by yourself, eventually falling into a deep slumber after exhausting yourself.

~~~

"hi ken!" you greeted your friend, a little more eager than usual.

you were up last night, convincing yourself that it was time to confess your feelings and that he would feel the same, or at least give you a chance. you had been keeping your feelings to yourself for a little over a month now, and you felt like you couldn't wait any longer.

now here you were, standing in front of the teen you had a massive crush on, who was sitting on a bench under a tree, with a book in his hand and his favorite sandwich lying on the space next to him.

kento sent you a small smile in acknowledgement, before slightly scooting to the side as if to make room for you.

you blushed at the gesture then took a seat on the bench, watching kento as he flipped a page in his book.

"what're you reading?" you ask. to be honest, you weren't really interested in his book. you just wanted to start a conversation before confessing your feelings for him.

"a biography," he answered briefly.

"about who?"

"some warrior."

then, setting the book down, kento turned to you with a curious look on his face. "did you need something, y/n?"

his amber eyes found yours and a sudden wave of nerves came over you. where had your determination and confidence gone? your heart probably grabbed them both and chucked it out of your body and across the nation. then its beating increased, as if taunting you for being so confident.

"um," you started slowly, breaking the eye contact and looking down at your lap. "i... you..."

"take your time," kento hummed. was it obvious how anxious you became, or was he just that good at reading people?

you began fidgeting with the hem of your skirt while trying to find the right words. a simple 'i like you' wouldn't suffice, because what you felt seemed stronger than just a 'like'. this was so much easier in your head. with a deep breath to prepare you and shifting your gaze back to him, you finally spoke.

"nanamikentoihavefeelingsforyou."

"huh?"

"i have... feelings for you," you spoke more slowly this time.

his brow quirked up, and as he opened his mouth to respond, you cut him off.

"i like you."

so much for not saying 'i like you'.

"oh."

oh? what oh? was that a good oh or a bad oh? you thought to yourself. kento grew silent and looked down at the grass, and his silence worsened your nerves. you were squeezing the end bit of your skirt now, while your mind was playing every other scenario you could have been in right now.

"kento?" his name leaving your mouth in a barely there whisper.

he turned back to you with pink cheeks and ears. you would've thought he was flattered if it wasn't for what he said next.

"i'm sorry, y/n. if you mean romantic feelings, and you like me in that sense, i don't feel the same way."

the whole world stopped. the distant chatter and bird calls faded into silence. the rise and fall of your chest paused as you felt yourself stop breathing. your cramped fingers finally stilled a against your skirt. your head kept replaying those words again and again, and your shattered heart dropped to your stomach, bringing a sick feeling with it.

"oh," you whispered. "i see."

you couldn't bare to be in this area anymore, or anywhere near kento. you were so sure that he'd at least want to see where things go with you. had you become so delusional and forgotten to think that being rejected was the other half of all possible outcomes?

a gentle hand then laid on your shoulder, while a face came into your peripherals. you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, knowing it would only bring you more shame.

"but we can still remain friends. it won't be awkward, to me at least," kento suggested politely and, what he might've thought, comfortingly.

but it only worsened your humiliation. he just had to use that term, that wretched word. as if his rejection wasn't enough, he really thought it was a good idea to say the damned f-word after confessing he didn't feel the same.

you knew kento only had good intentions in mind when he said it, and you understood that he never meant to hurt you with his words. but that simple sentence made it clear to you that that was all he saw you as.

a friend.

you could feel your throat closing up, your nose burning, and your eyes beginning to prick. kento already felt bad, it was clear, and you didn't want to make him feel worse. so you decided that it was time to leave, and maybe never leave your bed again.

"okay, well," you sniffed, wiping a stray tear and standing up, "thank you for being honest and telling me how you feel."

upon seeing your crestfallen face, kento frowned. "y/n, i'm sorry—"

"no, don't apologize. i understand," you smiled sadly.

after mumbling a broken and half-hearted 'have a wonderful evening', you left the bench under the tree and cried the rest of the day.

~~~

despite being rejected and so, so hurt, you quickly came to realize that your feelings weren't fading any time soon. they continued to linger, like someone who couldn't take a hint and conversing with another who just wanted to get through the day. you yourself got the hint, the message—kento didn't reciprocate your feelings. but your heart didn't quite get the memo, as it refused to let go of the man.

over time, your feelings grew stronger and so did the urge to confess once again. so you confessed, and once again, you were rejected. this time, however, you cried a little less. moved on a little quicker. and you tried again.

this grew into a cycle, an unhealthy one, for the rest of your high school years. it was predictable and pathetic, but with feelings for kento as strong as yours? you were determined to get him to see you as more than just his good friend, hell, to even go out on at least one date.

and now, present times, nothing had changed. you were still in love with nanami kento and he... well, he was still not in love. you were still confessing and he was still rejecting. you might've seemed desperate, but your feelings never went away and kento never ended his friendship with you, so it had to mean something. right?

right now, however, your feelings were the least of your worries. your brows were furrowed, your bottom lip was tucked in between your teeth, and you were wringing your wrists over and over. despite going on this mission with the man you trusted above all, you felt that things wouldn't turn out the way they should.

"are you alright, y/n?" kento quietly asked you, having noticed your silence and body language.

"hm? oh, yeah. i'm just," you paused, then whispered, "scared."

you felt kento's hand gently lay on your shoulder, feeling his eyes on your own as he spoke, "it's going to be okay. i'll be there with you the entire time, and i will do my best to keep you safe and unharmed."

smiling up at him, you nodded and thanked him. he nodded once back, then led you two out the door and onto the mission.

you could barely function at this point. your vision was clouded with dark fuzzy spots, you could barely move your sore and numb limbs, your ears were ringing as though an alarm were blaring in them. your head was throbbing as blood trickled down your face from the gash above your brow, and your heart was racing faster than it ever had before.

the mission had gone horribly wrong; the curse was far more dangerous and powerful than expected. it could birth weaker clones that were still enough to cause damage, and the only way to stop the multiplication was to eliminate the main curse.

which had set its dark, blood lusted eyes on you for the past half hour. and in that time, you felt your life flashing before your eyes. you didn't know where kento had gone—the last you saw of him was taking on an army of the multiples.

your delayed movements weren't helping much. all your energy had been depleted whilst trying to fight survive the curse, making it almost impossible to use your cursed technique. if you thought fighting was exhausting, then trying to stay conscious felt much worse.

as you tried (and failed) to focus on executing technique, the curse came out of nowhere and violently hurled you into a nearby destroyed building. you broke through the remains of a wall, the only thing breaking your fall being a mound of ash and dust. chunks of the wall surrounded you, while a larger portion lay on the rest of your body below your shoulders. .

"y/n!"

despite the ringing and your heart thrumming in your ears, you could hear his distant yell for you. he must have finally gotten rid of the multiples when the main was focused on you, or held them off long enough to find you. whatever he did, though, you couldn't focus on right now. all you could really think of was the excruciating pain and fear you were experiencing.

the impact from you hitting the wall had knocked the wind out of you and the wall fragment on your chest made things even worse. your lungs felt tight on the inside, while they were being crushed on the outside. you could barely get in any air, the most you could take in being a mere gasp. you were beginning to panic now. were you going to die? is this how you were going out, because you were unable to defeat a curse? where was kento?

you didn't realize it but tears had begun to fall from your eyes. a reaction caused by the emotions and physical pain you were overwhelmed with. you were scared, so fucking terrified to meet your inevitable end.

what you also didn't know was that kento was fighting his ass off trying to murder the curse. it felt a bit easier because of all the anger he was feeling towards the creature for absolutely wrecking you. all rationality left his body the moment he saw you be carelessly thrown like a rag doll, and now he found himself brutally attacking the curse with no remorse. even satoru was shocked at his behavior, as he thought this curse would need more than one person to defeat it.

it took a few minutes longer, but kento had defeated the curse. he had sliced up the lower body and saved the stupid, ugly head for last, cutting it in half through the eyes and another half through the side. and in exactly 5 seconds, the curse had let out a final whine before it's dismembered body and quartered head disintegrated into pools of foul-smelling acid, but kento could care less about it.

he sprinted to where you were laying, not caring that satoru was calling after him, not caring that civilians were hurt or scared. you were the only thing on his mind and his body burned with the sickening fear that you were—

no, he couldn't bare to think of it. you were strong, persistent, determined. you didn't give up that easily, he would know. kento knew you would put up a fight, and a good one at that, before you'd let death win over and welcome you. but the question was, how long did until that fight was over?

luckily enough, kento could see your dust-covered body underneath the rubble. your skin was losing its color quickly and he could see you trembling, hear you crying fearfully and painfully calling for help. he rushed to your side, immediately but gently lifting the broken debris off your frail body.

"k-kento," you wheezed, tears pouring out of your eyes and leaving trails through the dust. "i can't—i can't b-breathe, it.. hurts."

kento's hands were shaking violently, panic settling in and his mind wondering darker thoughts. with one hand, he gently cupped your face and looked into your glossy eyes.

"it's okay, y/n. everything will be okay, i'm going to get you out of here, and we'll get you help, i promise. just stay calm for me, okay?"

his reassurance was enough to quell the some of the anxiety gnawing at your insides. despite trembling badly, kento hastily continued to uncover your body from the wall. the larger piece took more effort, and though his hands were burning an angry red, kento continued to lift and push, then threw it somewhere away from you.

kento felt sick at the sight of your battered frame. your natural skin color was barely visible as bruises covered almost the entirety of your body. cuts and gashes so deep they would scar marked your torso, and blood was seeping out through them. he was a strong man who'd seen enough gore to make even the coldest people faint, but seeing you in this condition made his eyes sting and burn.

"kento," you sobbed, the pain becoming too much to bear.

not wasting anymore time, kento gently scooped you into his arms, but despite his best efforts, the winces and cries you let out let him know that even the slightest touch hurt like hell. he began to speed walk to satoru, yelling out for the man while trying not to bounce you too much.

his heart was racing faster than it ever had before. a kind of fear he had never felt was consuming him, tightening around his entire body and squeezing his lungs. he could barely breathe, barely think properly.

meanwhile, you could slowly feel yourself begin to drift out of consciousness. was this death opening its gates to you? welcoming you in the worst way possible, having the life leave your body in the arms of the man you were in love with? everything began to feel numb. you weren't crying anymore. you were feeling a little sleepy.

"y/n, don't you dare close your eyes!"

kento's loud and firm voice abruptly knocked some consciousness into you, keeping you awake for a little longer. he gave you a gentle squeeze on your arm, a whine escaping you at the ache.

"i'm so sorry, i don't want to hurt you. we're going to get you help, alright? satoru!"

you couldn't process what happened after that, as the ringing in your ears returned. your vision became fuzzy, but the last thing you remember was a mess of snowy hair, teary hazel eyes, and the world around you spinning.

you fell asleep.

the sound of steady beeps sounded throughout the area you were in. consciousness slowly making its way back into your body.

you were tired, so exhausted. you just wanted to sleep for a month, but as memories began to flood your mind, the desire to sleep seemed harder to achieve.

the last thing you recall happening was kento pulling you out of the remains of a building, carrying you bridal style away from where you had laid, and satoru placing a hand on both you and kento. anything after that, you had no recollection of.

the incessant beep coming from your left prompted you to open your eyes. you squinted right away, your pupils slowly adjusting to the change of brightness. above you were fluorescent lights and around you were clean, white walls. the room had little to no decoration or color and it felt sterile. physical feeling had come back to you, and you felt your body wrapped in thin sheets, laid on a firm mattress. tubes ran up and down your arms and you could feel them underneath the gown you found yourself in.

you hadn't taken too long to figure out that you were in a hospital room. what you didn't realize right away was the blond man sitting next to your bed, his head buried in one arm and the other holding your hand. he wasn't in his usual blue dress shirt and slacks. instead, he was in a plain black tee and sweats. you figured he must have changed during the time you were unconscious, which you still had yet to find out.

your mind was running slower than ever today, because it had just clicked that nanami kento was holding your hand. he was the last person you saw when you passed out and the first person you see when you awoke. had kento been here by your side the entire time?

wanting to see more of him, you shifted your weight onto your elbows, trying to prop yourself up and painfully failing. sharp stabbing-like sensation ran through your right shoulder, a burning one across your left arm, and your back felt stiff and extremely sore.

a loud wince involuntarily escaped your lips, tears rushing to your eyes at the overwhelming aches. immediately, kento woke and snapped his head, looking confused for a second, then realizing what was happening next.

"heyheyhey, y/n, don't move too much. you're still recovering, so just lie down, alright?"

he had stood from his seat and helped slowly lower your body back into the bed. he held you so firmly yet so gently as if not to hurt you or you'd break. he then pulled the thin sheets over your lap to keep you warm, then adjusted the bed so that you were slightly sitting up with support.

then, carefully cupping your face, he wiped a stray tear with his thumb, then lightly stroked across your cheek. his eyes were so full of concern as he scanned your entire face, as if making sure you were really here. the emotion radiating off of him and the way he held you with such delicacy made you feel so safe and cared for.

"how are you feeling?" kento whispered, brows slightly furrowed.

"it hurts," you whispered in response. a frown crossed kento's face and he genuinely looked so broken to know you were in great pain.

"i'm so, so sorry, y/n," kento apologized, breaking eye contact and bowing his head, almost shamefully. "i should have been there, by your side. i should've just let gojo take care of the clones, hell, the actual curse itself. i should have been there—"

"kento," you cut him off. you couldn't handle hearing him blame himself for your near-death experience. he couldn't have saved you while defending himself, and if there was a choice to be made, you would've rather he lived.

"please... don't think this was your fault," you requested, voice raspy from not talking and the incident. "it was not your fault the curse decided to come after me. it was not your fault i wasn't strong enough to fight it alone—"

"but that's the thing, y/n," kento argued. "you couldn't have taken that thing on alone. i should have been there to aid you and help take it down."

in an attempt to lighten the mood, you exhaled a laugh through your nose and joked, "what, you don't think i'm strong enough to fight a special-grade?"

kento gave you a pointed look, unamused at your quip. you smiled apologetically back before looking away from him, any trace of humor leaving your face.

"it's not that i don't think you're strong enough," he sighed. "i feel like i let you down."

"i should have stayed by your side. i shouldn't have let us get separated, i should have followed you, but i didn't. and now, look where we are."

he gestures to your frail figure, gently holding your arm and avoiding your eyes out of shame. boldly, you reached for his hand held it in both of yours, the action bringing his eyes to your own.

"kento, this wasn't your fault. i mean it. don't say anything of it again, or i'll purposely get your orders wrong when i'm bringing lunch. you were trying to save yourself, as was i. maybe i could have used some help, but that only means i need to improve my technique and combat. which also means, you could help me with that. maybe i could have died, but i'm here now, aren't i?" you rambled, not bothering to stop when kento opened his mouth to rebut. "let's not dwell on what's already happened and move forward, please?"

he fell silent, pressing his lips together in a thin line. it seemed as though there was more he wanted to say, and you knew there was, but this conversation would never end—he wouldn't be relieved of his guilt.

a sigh passed through kento's lips, more pigmented after pressing them together tightly. he nodded and as he rubbed gentle circles onto the top of your hand, he whispered an agreement.

you smiled at him, squeezing his hand to reassure him. kento kept wordless for another minute, head hung low and eyes shut. it was visible to anyone that his guilt was swallowing him whole, but he was fighting it for you. he covered your hand with his other, both hands now encasing your own. taking you by surprise, kento brought your hand up to his lips and placed the gentlest lingering kiss atop the skin. his lips, so soft and so warm, left a light buzz on the spot they laid on, and one throughout your body.

"when everything gets cleared up—your health, the reports—i'm taking you out."

what?

"seeing you hurt and in this state made me come to my senses. it confirmed something i had held back for so long, and made me realize that i can't wait."

"kento... what are you saying?" you mumbled slowly, confusion evident in every word.

he sighs, treading carefully. it's clear he's figuring out the right words to say, how to express how he's feeling.

"i'm saying that... in our line of work, developing close bonds with people can be dangerous. we can never be too sure, we can never be too close to someone because in the blink of an eye, it might be gone. what we do is dangerous. but, i think that not taking a chance is even more dangerous."

he sighs shakily, "and i am guilty of not realizing this sooner. but fate seems to be on my side, because even if i don't take them, chances keep coming back to me. and i think now, i'm ready to take it."

kento kisses your hand and brings his eyes to yours, finally declaring,

"i'm ready to take this chance with you."

and you smile, nodding as fireworks go off throughout your being.

after all these years, he finally likes you back.

note — sorry for the corny ending, i just needed to get the request done 😭 and sincerest apologized to the anon who requested, i really have no excuse other than writers block and busy schedules :(

m. list

#.h4ndwr1tten #nanami kento #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #nanami angst #nanami fluff

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wardenparker · 5 months

Text

New Year's Surprise

Jack Daniels x plus size female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 18.7k Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, internalized fatphobia, self esteem issues, pining, meddlesome friends, unwanted attention from a male coworker, light spanking, praise, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, Jack likes being scratched up, reader is described as having fingernails long enough to scratch (no specific length given), the love is requited they're just idiots. Summary: Ginger has a plan to get you and Jack to admit you have feelings for each other. She did not anticipate just how well it would work... Notes: Happy almost New Year everyone! Enjoy a little more winter seasonal smut and fluff from us to you 🥂🍾✨

"You're sure it's not too much, Ging?" Turning in front of the full-length mirror in Ginger's apartment, you inspect the glittering black cocktail dress that your friend helped you pick out at the mall during all those after-Christmas sales she promised you that you would find something at. She was right, like she always is, but now that the dress is on you, you're wondering if you haven't made a mistake. If it's not too revealing, or too short, or too tight.

Whoever in HR came up with this insane Cowboys and Flappers theme for the company New Year's Eve party deserved to have their head examined. You're not the femme fatale agent that gets sent out to seduce men and collect their secrets. Few men out there in the world are ever really seduced by the chubby girl in any given scenario, but it did tend to make you invisible. Invisible women can slip in and out of buildings in literally any kind of uniform and get through security without ever being harassed, and that works to your advantage on almost every case. Unfortunately, it also means that for the five years you've been a Statesman agent, you've also been fairly invisible to the man you've developed feelings for.

It’s perfect.” No matter how many times Ginger Ale tells you that you are sexy just the way you are, that insecurity gets the best of you. “I’m telling you, you will have every eye in the place.”

“I doubt it.” You sigh in the mirror and smooth your hands over the sequined dress one more time. “But that’s okay. I don’t want every set of eyes…”

“I know what set of eyes you want on you.” Your taste in men is your own, and Ginger won’t fault you for it, but she wonders why Jack. “It might do the man good to know that he’s got competition.” You don’t believe her when she says that it’s more telling that Jack doesn’t hit on you, but it’s the truth.

“He doesn’t, though.” Shrugging, you turn away from the mirror and decide to just go on with the night. Wishing won’t make it real and Jack Daniels barely looks at you. Even though you’ve partnered on cases, spend time together in and out of the office, and are arguably friends in every true sense? You’ve always wanted more with him. The only person who knows is Ginger, though, and you prefer to keep it that way since Jack will never return your affection. “And that’s…it is what it is. Even if you’re the only person I dance with tonight, it’ll still be fun.”

“Wearing that dress?” Ginger snorts as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’ll have the faith for both of us, how about that?” She knows that Jack won’t be able to resist you tonight, not when she’s lined up a few of the junior agents to dance with you already. It’s time that Jack settles down and finds some happiness, and what better time than the New Year?

******

While you easily could have had the party at Statesman considering the size of the grounds, Champ wouldn’t hear of it. He’s hosting the damn thing himself come hell or high water, in his favourite suit with his wife dressed to the 9’s in her flapper dress, and more caterers than you’ve ever seen in your life all making his early twentieth century coal baron’s mansion look as resplendent as the day it was built. The place is palatial, with a ballroom so big that the band he’s hired looks tiny in one corner despite being six-men strong. It’s music and liquor and appetizers passing by on trays when you and Ginger walk through the door, and you gasp at how nice it all looks.

“I know he does it every year,” you sigh to your best friend. “But the theme is always different and I swear somehow the house always looks better on new year’s.”

“Champ does know how to throw one hell of a party.” She agrees, snagging two glasses of champagne from a waiter as she walks by. Her own sleek flapper dress is a vivid purple, making her beautiful skin glow and for tonight, she’s wearing contacts. Her short hair is perfectly styled, a cap like illusion, highlighted with the crystal headband she’s picked. “To a New Year we will never forget.” She hands you one glass and adds, “or regret.”

“You’re certainly optimistic.” You flash her and grin and tap the rim of your glass against hers. “Finally going to talk to Alicia or is this just positive vibes?” It’s been two years since Ginger started crushing on the woman who supervises Statesman campus tours and visitor experience, but she hasn’t made a move yet. Being frozen in place with someone you care about is something the two of you have in common.

“Positive vibes.” She huffs, rolling her eyes and trying to change the subject. “Look! There’s Tequila!” She waves the younger agent over to where you are standing. “You made it! Didn’t think you were ever gonna get back from Brazil, or if you wanted to.” She adds with a grin.

“Those are two very different questions.” Tequila agrees with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Did he have to come back? Sure. But did he want to leave the comfort and luxury of that beautiful woman’s bed? Not at all. “But I would not have missed dancing with you ladies for the world,” he adds with a wink. He’s very much in on Ginger’s plan, after all, and is looking forward to the fireworks it will bring.

You fluster slightly at his words, but Ginger knows that you don’t have your cap set on Tequila. You just don’t handle compliments well. “You’ll have to get in line.” Ginger warns him with a smirk. “As good as Rye looks tonight, every man in here is going to want a dance. After I dance with her first.”

“Well I reckon I’ll have to be second, then.” Tequila puts in a playful pout. “But only because I would never deny Miss Ginger Ale gettin to be first.” He smiles again and tips his hat, having opted to wear his best Stetson with an elegant Kingsman suit. “You don’t have to,” you insist, knowing Tequila always has more choices of dance and bedroom partners than he could ever feasibly make his way through. “I’m sure you have other people you want to dance with tonight.”

“No one important.” Tequila smirks as he drags his eyes up and down your outfit and whistles slowly. “And no one nearly as pretty.” He promises.

“Liar.” Though you roll your eyes at him, you don’t protest anymore than that. He’s your friend, after all. And if he wants to waste his time dancing with you, you’ll just enjoy it. Tequila’s a fantastic dancer, after all.

“Never lie to you, honey.” Tequila croons, taking your hand and lifting it to his lips. “Lie about what?” The voice comes from your left and all eyes swing that way.

“Jack!” Normally you know he’s coming. The smell of earthy, expensive cologne and the tap-click-shuffle of his boots on polished floors. The soft humming he gets up to when he’s pleased with himself, not quite melodic but endearing because it means he’s happy. But you sensed none of that just now, too caught up in the band playing and the fragrant flowers and the tickle of bubbly in your nose and throat. “Nothing. We were just talking about dancing…” He looks like a dream, and it makes you sick to your stomach and elated all at once. Another night of watching him fawn over every woman but you is what you’ve resigned yourself to putting up with, but it’s just rude of him to look so damn handsome in that black velvet double breasted suit and sleek black Stetson while he does it.

“Dancing, hum?” His eyes narrow slightly at the grip Tequila has on your hand and he wants to reach out and slap it away, but he just shoots everyone an easy grin. “Ready to cut a rug tonight, eh?”

"I guess so." The shyness that threatens to shoot straight through you is knocked off kilter by Ginger, who hoots in response. "She's got her dance card all filled up already, Whiskey. Should've gotten here earlier," she tells him with a smirk.

His mustache ticks, it’s the only change to his facial expression. “I’m sure Rye can squeeze me in.” His dark amber eyes slide over to you and swipe up and down your body. “Can’t you, sugar?”

"Of course." You'd throw over the whole goddamn list for him. Besides, you have no idea what Ginger could possibly mean by saying your 'card' is full. One dance with her and one with Tequila isn't a full anything. "Of course I can."

“Good. Then how about I refresh you ladies’ drinks?” Jack asks, slapping Tequila on the back a little rougher than necessary. “Come help me with that.”

"Sure." Tequila grunts, throwing you a confused expression like he can't figure out why the hell Jack needs help getting champagne when waiters with trays are everywhere, but he shoots Ginger a secret smirk before following Jack into the next room where the open bar is set up.

“Tonight will be perfect.” Ginger predicts with a smug grin as she watches the two men walk towards the open bar. .

“What the hell are you doin’, flirtin’ with Rye?” Jack’s easy grin falls away and his brows knit together as soon as his back is turned to you. “You know that girl ain’t your type.”

"I can't be nice to my friend?" Tequila asks, pretending to be positively aghast that Jack would suggest he's up to anything else. One hand ever goes to his chest with a dramatic gasp.

Jack’s eyes cut towards the other agent, a frown on his face. “It’s one goddamn thing to be nice, it’s another to flirt.”

"When did I flirt?" The younger agent counters, knowing full well that's what he was doing but not about to admit it because he wants to make Jack stew.

“You were flirtin’ the second you can outta your momma, but you gotta learn there’s certain girls you don’t do that shit with.” Jack growls, stopping in front of the bar and holding up two fingers. “Double 62 Triple Barreled.” He orders, wanting one of the rare whiskeys that Champ had broken out tonight. “And two champagnes.”

"Now, why is that, Jack?" Tequila hums, looking down at his friend. Jack isn't too much shorter than him, but just enough to annoy the older agent on occasion. "Why is Rye one of those girls?"

“Because…” that’s where his argument ends, because there’s not really a reason beyond his own feelings. “It’s…unprofessional.” He decides. “She’s an agent for Christ’s sake.”

Tequila snorts at this string of logic, accepting his drink from the pretty bartender with a wink and sliding a large bill into the tip glass on the bar top before looking back at Jack. "That's a load of horse shit and you know it, Daniels. You fucking know it."

He does know it, but he snatches his own drink up and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He hates that his stomach twists and he wonders if you had been flirting back. Looking over his shoulder at where you are standing, he clenches his jaw at the tassels that are swaying every time you move. “Don’t get her damn hopes up.” He takes a sip of his whiskey. “We both know you ain’t gonna fuck her.”

"Nor does she want me to." This is gonna be a hell of a lot easier than he and Ginger thought, if Jack is always so fuckin wound up over you and he only just arrived for the night. "I ain't the one she has her eye on and everybody with eyes knows it."

Jack ignores that, huffing to himself as he tries to hid the fucking jealousy that curls in his gut at whoever you do have your eye on. Lucky son of a bitch. “No fuckin’ talkin’ to you, hardheaded S.O.B.” The champagne glasses are in front of him and he downs the rest of the drink to slap the crystal glass down and snatch up the flutes. Turning around without another word and stalking across the room towards you and Ginger.

It's only one room he has to cross, but by the time he gets there, Agent Brandy has sidled up beside you and Ginger and has his fingers ever so subtly on your elbow while bends his head and puts all his focus directly on you.

Halfway across the room, Jack jerks to a halt and growls, shaking his head as he resumes the walk and forces a moderately friendly smile on his face. “Didn’t think you’d be back from Korea, Don.” He interrupts as he arrives back at your group.

"Two days ago." Brandy flashes a smile in Jack's general direction but keeps his focus on you. "Glad I made it back in time, too. Champ throws a hell of a party."

His eye twitches but Jack nods. “Yeah he does. Shoulda brought that little gal you were seein’. Brandy. Brenda right? Or was it Bambi?” He shrugs. “Maybe all of them at once, knowin’ you.”

"Now don't be unkind, Jack." Brandy's eyes cut over to the older agent and Brandy offers what could be considered a modestly dramatic pout. "Or Rye might think the worst of me and throw me over for that dance I just got promised."

Jack seethes beneath the smile on his face. “Would hate for that to happen.” He lies, handing Ginger one of the glasses and then offers the other to you.

The glass is offered with a smile and you thank Jack, savoring even the tiniest moment of contact between brushing fingers as he hands it over. It's probably bordering on pathetic, how long you've carried this torch for Jack, and it seems like Ginger is really trying to encourage you tonight to come out of your shell tonight but you just don't know. As nice as everyone is being, it doesn't feel right. The only thing that feels right is when you're around Jack. It's just a damn shame that he doesn't feel the same.

It’s almost painful how the simple, innocent touch affects him. Now visceral his reaction is. Only the training that Statesman has given him keeps him from showing anything. “Well,” he hates to tear himself away, but he can’t be around you for too long. “I better go talk to Champ about some cases he wants worked tomorrow.” He offers.

"It's a party," you remind him, smile flickering as he steps back. Obviously the small touch that you'll be savoring for the rest of the night has had the opposite effect on him. But there's no need to show that. Not when it's fully expected that he doesn't want to be around you when there are plenty of other people to talk to and women to dance with. "Don't work too hard, okay?"

“Never do,” he nods at everyone and turns around and skedaddles over to Champ like his pants are on fire.

"Come on," Ginger loops her arm through yours and lends Brandy a smirk that you don't notice — you're too busy trying not to look after Jack. "Let's go dance, honey. The night is young and we are looking far too good not to show off."

Champ eyes Jack as he stops by his side. “Figured you’d have a gal in your arms by now.” He huffs as he reaches out to shake Jack’s hand. “Losing your touch?” Jack snorts. “When have I ever lost my touch?” He asks, pointedly refusing to look back over towards you. “Just surveying my prospects.”

"And how is Agent Rye this evening?" Champ doesn't even have to look to know that that's where Jack has just come from. He blew into the room so quickly that it's the only explanation for the fire in his heels.

“Don’t you start with me.” Jack groans, shaking Champ’s hand and huffing. “Far as I know, she’s dandy.”

"Why should I not start?" Champ knows damn well why not, but he enjoys riling up his friend. "Somebody beat me to the punch?"

“Every-goddamn-body here tonight is actin’ like they’ve never seen the woman in a dress.” He snorts, complaining about it even though he has already memorized the way the damned sequined dress clings to your curves and enhances them in ways that should be criminal. “It’s damned ridiculous and borderline workplace harassment.”

Smirking, Champ pours two glasses of his preferred Statesman 1972 Select, savoring the smoked cherry notes from that particular year. He hands one cut crystal glass over to Jack with his tongue set firmly in his cheek. "You know you'd be a hell of a lot less mad if you just asked the lady to dance your damn self."

The glare Jack cuts Champ is withering and he turns his head as he takes a sip, refusing to rebuff the remark. It seems like everyone is taking the piss with him tonight as Eggsy would say. (edited)

"She's allowed to have fun, ya know." Champ goes on, humming the thought as though the glare Jack just shot him wouldn't have struck a lesser man dead in his tracks. "Damn shame she hasn't set her cap on anyone. Big family dreams, that gal has. Always has. It'll be a damn shame when she finally decides to hang up her pistols and have a family, but I won't let her get farther than the training ring. Too good of an agent to just let her retire."

“Is there a point to your ramblings?” Jack grumbles. “Or are you just spouting shit tonight?”

"Do what I want in my own house." The older man chuckles heartily and claps Jack on one shoulder. "Got a couple of jobs to start the new year with. Come see me tomorrow and we'll figure out which one's yours."

He’s being dismissed and since Champ is also giving him hell, Jack quickly nods and walks off. Trying to walk around the ostentatious ballroom without looking at you. “Hello handsome.” A perfectly manicured hand drapes itself over his shoulder and the scent of gardenias and sandalwood fills his nostrils. “Tiffany.”

Like a bloodhound on a trail, you spot it from across the ballroom without even trying to. Twirling around with Ginger, your eyes catch sight of the gorgeous, skinny, leggy blonde who has let herself drape over Jack's side and you sigh. Deflate is probably the right word, but you remind yourself it was never going to happen anyway and just hold on to Ginger as the song comes to an end.

“What’s a tall, dark, handsome drink of water like you doin’ all by your lonesome?” She purrs, making him hide the wince he had at the put on accent of hers. She’s as southern as tofu and yet she tries to make it sound like she’s grown up around here. Still, she’s a distraction and the best part about it is that there’s no emotional strings. “Looks like I should be buyin’ you a drink, darlin’.”

"I wish you would," she puts on a too-high giggle and bats eyelashes heavy with mascara and augmented with false hairs. Laying it on thick, she pushes in even closer and lets her body fit against his with nothing left to the imagination.

Jack doesn’t feel anything but he paints a cocky smirk on his face as he turns to her. “Then let me go get something for you, what do you want, darlin’?”

“Champagne, of course,” she simpers, never once considering the fact that she’s at a party for a whiskey distillery. Hell, she hadn’t even dressed for the theme.

Tiffany hangs out at the bar Statesman regularly hangs out at. A groupie because she knows everyone there makes good money. He’d bet his bottom dollar she conned Scotch into bringing her.

“Some party.” Is her attempt at conversation, putting more effort into showing off her cleavage than completing sentences. “You distillery boys sure know how to treat your gals.”

“Of course we do.” Jack’s smile is wicked, but it’s a part of the persona he adopts when he is working a target, it’s not real. “Any gal of mine deserves to be treated right.”

“Is that an invitation?” She knows who Jack is. Knows the civilian job title he’s been at Statesman Distillery. Even if she knew what it was all a front for, she likely wouldn’t care. She might just try harder if she knew the real wealth being flung around between a lot of these people.

“Now sweetheart, I’m good for a night or two.” Jack drawls. “But I’ve got a lot of leavin’ left to do.” He hums, quoting the country song.

The pout on Tiffany’s face is both dramatic and pronounced, but seeing that he’s immovable in that point — and knowing his reputation — she makes a small sound of frustrated disgust before flouncing away. Apparently annoyed at having wasted her time on a line cowboy.

The huff that Jack lets out is one of pure relief. Happy that he won’t have to deal with her again for at least half the night. She might make her way back around depending on successful she is. It’s shameful to say, but most of the agents here have dallied with her, including Jack. However, he had only taken her home to satisfy a physical need. He slowly makes his way back to the bar to order another drink, not champagne.

His line of sight is unfortunate as he saunters back toward the open bar. Looking back out to the dance floor, he can see Tequila twirling you around and the two of you laughing as the younger man holds you close and mock-sings along with the band.

Jack’s frown is deep, furrowing his brow as he cuts his eyes away in a jealous huff.

It goes round and round like that for most of the night. One dance partner after the next sweeps you across the dance floor but never the partner you want. One beautiful woman after another sidles up to Jack and bats their eyelashes but none are the woman he actually wants at his side. It’s a three-ring-circus. A whirlwind. But you never seem to get close enough to each other to see that neither of you is actually having any fun.

It’s easy to have an arm around a woman, easy to smile and flirt. His eyes continuously find you on the dance floor. Ginger had been right apparently, you had a damn dance card that was slap full. He hisses under his breath, wondering how many of those men knew you bit your thumb when you were working out a problem or that your eyes changed to a lighter shade when you were feeling slightly bashful.

There isn’t a single night of your life where you’ve gotten this much attention from this many different men — or this many different people period — and while it’s fun in a whirlwind sort of way, you do find yourself clock-watching. Wondering why your fellow agents all seem to be paying you so many compliments tonight and why you sort of feel like Cinderella at the ball without a hint of the real Prince Charming, the closer it gets to midnight the more you’re thinking of just going home. The last thing you want is to glance across the ballroom at midnight and see Jack tangled up in a midnight kiss with some petite redhead or statuesque model with perfect curls. You’ll be happier skipping out early and being in your pjs with a book at midnight than you will be witnessing that.

It’s fucking infuriating to have so many people come between him and you. Every dang time he untangles himself to break in on your dance with some partner, Ginger, Tequila or Champ waylay him. He’s never had such a hard time getting to chat with you and it’s making him slowly unravel his temper. “Ah Jack, there you are.” He sighs and paints on a smile when Champ claps his back and shoves a drink in his hand. “Forgot to mention somethin’….” His eyes slide away from you laughing as you are spun around, bitter to be stonewalled again.

“Well if it ain’t the gol’dern Belle of the Ball.” The voice you hear behind you is the one person you were hoping to avoid tonight, and as you’ve just finished dancing with one of the guys from the technology department who you didn’t even think knew your name, there’s no escaping. Agent Vodka is one of those older men who doesn’t realize that James Bond is just a character and that no one drags that persona into their everyday life. He routinely ‘flirts’ with you like he’s bestowing you a huge goddamn favor for even looking in your direction, and you were genuinely hoping to avoid him tonight.

Vodka is handsome in a classical sense, some would say a silver fox, if he had a better attitude. As it stands, there’s a confused tilt to his Stetson adorned head and he rakes his eyes up and down your body in a very calculated gaze. “You musta cleaned up for hours. Getting ready for a good night.”

“Sure. I guess so.” You nod, tone polite but dismissive. Vodka has a tendency to interpret friendly as begging for hands to be put on you, and the last thing you want to do is encourage him. “Happy new year, Vodka.”

“Seems like Whiskey and I have been the only ones not with you tonight.” He intones, smirking slightly. “Guess you was savin’ the best for last, huh? Since Jack’s hangin’ all over the ladies, I’ll step in and claim this dance.” He doesn’t ask for permission, just stepping up to you and grabbing your waist.

“That’s really okay.” Reeling backward, Vodka is strong but your self-defense training is a hell of a lot better, and you twist in his grip to make sure he can’t get a solid hold on you no matter how hard he tries. “Appreciate the offer,” you huff, trying to push him away. “But I was just heading home.”

“Oh don’t be that way.” Vodka huffs and manages to pull you close. “Believe me, dancin’ ‘s just a prelude to what we can do later.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t want to dance with you.” You push back against him again, leveraging your elbow against his side to loosen his grip with a sharp shot to his liver. This has gone too far and is hovering on ruining the night — which has been fairly fun despite its lack of your favorite cowboy and coworker.

“Jack-“ Ginger doesn’t bother apologizing as she taps his shoulder and points out to the dance floor. “Why don’t you go save Rye?” She huffs.

At this point it’s obvious that it’s a struggle. People are giving you extra space on the dance floor as they realize what’s happening but for whatever godforsaken reason, no one has stepped in yet. Probably because they’re too shocked that Vodka has finally crossed the line into being physically inappropriate instead of just saying uncomfortable things.

“Sugar, I’m sorry I’m late for our dance.” Jack slaps his hand down on Vodka’s shoulder and digs his fingers into the fleshy muscle. Getting satisfaction from the immediate change in the man’s stance. “Don’t mind if I interrupt, do ya?” His tone is friendly, but there’s a warning woven in the words. Dark eyes turn towards you as you quickly step back from the other man’s grasp.

“Wouldn’t have thought you’d keep a dame waitin’.” Vodka mumbles, all sheepishness and apology now that he realizes he’s infringed on another man’s territory.

Jack doesn’t rip into the man like he wants to, everyone else is starting to relax and resume the party. “You probably need to lay off the liquor.” He tells the other agent, not really caring for the man either.

“You forget who we work for, Daniels?” Vodka huffs, giving Jack the stink eye. “Not like you go easy, either.”

“Last time I checked, I took no for an answer, Robbins.” Jack turns his back after letting Vodka go and sweeps you into his arms, effectively dismissing him.

The room damn near erupts into applause, chattering all around you erupting out of uncomfortable silence, but you don’t hear it. You don’t even see Tonic and Champ escorting Vodka out of the ballroom with the utmost immediacy so the dressing-down can be vocal and private. All you see is Jack, and all you hear is Jack. Even as quiet as he is, the huff he gives as he scoops you up and twirls you away speaks volumes. “Jack, you—you didn’t have to—” Of course, if he hadn’t, you’re not sure you could’ve gotten away so cleanly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t think a thing of it, sugar.” Although he has a few harsh words rolling around for everyone who didn’t step in. It’s like they were waiting for something. Alcohol’s done made their brains addled. “Although my own apologies for manhandling you to get you outta that sticky situation.” Even though he’s apologizing, he starts to lead you in a dance.

“I really don’t mind.” And that is the understatement of the goddamn year, as you instinctively melt against Jack the second he starts to move.

“Still…..” There’s finally a bit of happiness to the evening and he smirks down at you. “Now you can say your dance card has been filled.”

“Could’ve left Vodka off it completely,” you grumble lightly, but you still end up smiling. When Jack looks at you in almost any way you just light up from the inside. It’s instinctual.

“Don’t know what got into him.” Jack huffs, even though he’s saved you from encounters like that before.

“His namesake, most likely.” He had smelled like it, at least. A fact which added no charm whatsoever to your encounter. “Really, Jack. Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Jack nods. “Sugar, you know that I know you are a capable agent. You coulda mopped the floor with him, but I’ll always give you whatever help you need.”

“I prefer not to bring hand-to-hand combat to Champ’s front door if I can help it.” If you let yourself really chew on the fancy, you could imagine Jack as rescuing you like a knight in armor. Like you were his to protect. “Not sure how much he’d appreciate that, regardless of how capable I am.”

“I think you’d find Champ more forgivin’ than you think.” He snorts, reminding himself of his own major fuck up just a few years prior. Champ had forgiven him and allowed him to regain the trust and confidence that he had destroyed through his own bling grief and rage.

“Maybe.” Jack certainly knows your boss better than you do even after several years with the agency, so you’ll differ from him. “But I’m glad to not have to find out. And…” The rest of the thought gets swallowed, and you cut your eyes away from him in embarrassment. There are some things better left unsaid and normally you’re so good at keeping your mouth shut.

“And?” Jack frowns slightly, not liking that you are holding back with him. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“It’s nothing,” you promise him, shaking your head and acting like it isn’t the biggest, most honest confession in the world from you that sets your cheeks on fire and makes you even more bashful around him. “I’m just…glad I got to dance with you. That’s all.”

“You didn’t think you were going to dance out the old year without ole Jack now, did ya?” He sounds pouty that you would even think that.

"Honestly?" Shrugging slightly even with one of his hands splayed across your back and the other holding yours tenderly against his chest, you wonder how ever you ever manage to keep a damn thing to yourself with him around when your mind just sort of seems to melt in his presence. "I was going to split and ring in the new year in my bed with the book I've been reading."

Jack frowns and shakes his head, not agreeing with your plans in the slightest. “Now that seems like a waste.” He draws. “Mighty fine night to spend readin’ a book. You should be doin’ other things.”

"Not a lot of other options to pick from," you mumble, trying to force your mind away from immediately conjuring the mental images and repeated daydreams of doing just about everything under the sun with — and to — him.

Jack wants to protest that, but the song starts to close out and you almost stop in your tracks. Obviously believing that he will end the dance now that Vodka is gone and the set is done. Instead of dropping your hands, he pulls you tighter against him. “Is that why you wore a dress like that, sugar? ‘Cause you didn’t have any options?”

"Ginger picked it out." Wrongly assuming it to be an indictment of the choice, you frown reflexively and wonder why he's still holding on to you. The trouble is over and the song is done. Shouldn't he be finding someone better to spend his time with? "I know it's...it's not right. Flapper dresses are designed for women who look the opposite of me. But she insisted on sticking to the theme."

“Opposite of you?” He makes a face of utter confusion. “What are you talkin’ ‘bout? Dress looks good, fits you.” Maybe you have a shit ton of pins in the dress? His sweet wife would always have to pin her dresses to get them to fit right. Nearly every night they went out, he was helping her pin it just so.

Skinny is what you meant, but instead of saying so you just chew your lip and shake your head. Voicing that out loud would really just cement the ruination of the night and you don't want to do that. "Never mind," you insist instead. "I'm glad you like it." Even if he's just saying it to be nice, which you're sure he is, it's still nice to hear.

There’s something bugging him about the way you continuously quit talking and get around what you mean. The next song starts to play and Jack moves to that slightly faster tempo. “No one’s breakin’ in yet, sugar. So I’m keepin’ you unless you need a break?”

"No." Not from him. You would never, ever ask for a break from him. "No, I'm good." In fact, you've been so distracted by the rescue that you haven't noticed midnight creeping ever-closer. "I don't want a break."

Jack smiles, not the cocky smirk he adopts or the charming playboy facade that he uses on women like Tiffany. This is a genuine smile, one that makes his dimple show with a flash of white teeth and the crow’s feet around his eyes appear. “Then let’s dance, sugar.”

Champ chuckles when he sidles up beside Ginger with a fresh glass of champagne for each of them and his wife on his other arm, all ready to lead the midnight countdown after this song is over. "Took all damn night," he laughs to his co-conspirator. "And ya had to pull out the big gun with Vodka. But look at 'em."

“Man huffed and puffed at being used.” Ginger rolls her eyes and curls her lip. “But I promised him the Antarctic assignment. It will seem like punishment to everyone else and apparently he’s romancing one of the scientists down there.” Personally, she doesn’t see why anyone would be romanced by Vodka, but to each their own.

"It's for a damn good cause." Champ stifles a guffaw and even his wife looks amused at the way everything went down. "Everybody deserves to be happy, don't they? Even Vodka." It earns another snort from the older man and he aims a smirk at Ginger. "So what's the plan from here, Ging?"

“If Jack will get off his ass, there should be a kiss at midnight.” Ginger grins. “And maybe, just maybe, the dumbass will realize that it’s okay to want her. She wants him too.”

"Of course she does." Everybody knows that. Everybody with eyes and sense in their head, anyway. "He's just been stuck in the whole of his own grief for far too damn long. It's about time he broke free. Which is exactly why I went along with this plan of yours."

“I’m glad you did. Jack’s felt so guilty about actually developing feelings for Rye that he’s convinced himself that it’s wrong to flirt with her.” She takes a sip of her champagne. “When he breaks, it’ll be entertaining.”

"Entertaining for all of us." Grinning, Champ holds his glass out to his partner in crime in salute. "I sure as hell hope it happens right here for all of us to see."

Unaware that he’s being plotted against, Jack continues to hold you in his arms, taking you around the dance floor and trying to keep from asking too many questions that would potentially ruin his easy relationship with you. “Have you had fun? Other than Vodka? Your feet have to be killin’ you, all the dances you’ve been movin’ to.”

“It’s alright, I’ll have a hot bath and soak them. Aside from the one little interruption, everything’s been so nice.” This is the best part, without a doubt. Attention from other people is a novelty, the compliments and laughter a kind change of pace. But any time spent with Jack will always out do any other experience.

“A nice hot soak and a drink is always good to unwind.” Jack hums. “If other activities aren’t available.” The comment is warm, almost suggestive as he twists you around and then pulls you close again, feeling your softness against him and enjoying it.

It’s the worst kind of gut punch, hearing a comment like that from Jack, and your eyes are downcast when you curl back into his arms. It’s too unkind to be deliberate, but at the same time it’s such a careless comment that you just want to scream. He would never be intentionally cruel to you but the flirtatious tone of the comment is too much. “Maybe I should’ve gone with Vodka, then.”

Jack stiffens, frowning immediately and his blood pressure rises in anger. “What the fuck?” He hisses, the moment making him grip you tighter, almost the point of hurting you. “Why- you?” He’s at a loss for words right now.

“Well it’s the only offer I’ve gotten in…a year? Maybe more?” You shrug dismissively but his grip on you doesn’t allow for it, making your tone turn even more bitter in the process. He doesn’t get to get mad about who offers when he has no interest in himself. “Definitely more than a year, now that I think about it.”

“That wasn’t a goddamn offer.” He snorts. “It was a cowboy playin’ grab ass when his partner wasn’t willing.” He reminds you, dark eyes flashing angrily. “Otherwise known as assault.”

“And yet it’s still the only time any man has looked at me twice in more than a calendar year,” you hit back, practically hissing under your breath as embarrassed tears sting at your eyes. “Nobody’s exactly lining up to spend time with the fat girl except tonight which is Ginger’s doing. I know it is.” (edited)

The two of you are hissing back and forth, so preoccupied with your emotions that neither one of you are aware of the fact that the countdown for midnight has begun. The crowd around you starts to chant down from ten but Jack's too busy growling at you in anger. "Why are you so fuckin' quick to insult every goddamn person who decided to dance with you?"

“Because I know I’m right.” The two of you have never once torn into each other like this and while it breaks you’re heart, you’re so angry that lashing out is happening by instinct. It hurts so much more to be doubted by him and you can’t even express why. It’s devastating. “Do you even know what assignments they give me, Jack?” You hiss back, not hearing the shouts around you. “The ones where they need someone to be invisible! If they need someone plain and ignorable, they come straight to me. Do you know how much that fucking hurts? Because I’m good at it and that’s even worse than them just assuming. I’m excellent at not being noticed. At not being desired. It’s my fucking superpower. So no, I don’t think for a second that any of these dances were genuine moments of interest or offers for literally anything else. Because why would they be?”

His heart breaks and he's simultaneously enraged that you view yourself that way. "Five! Four! Thr—" He reaches up and grabs the back of your neck to yank you forward so your nose is less than an inch from his own. "You want a goddamn offer?" He snarls, losing all sense of reason when it comes to you and ready to prove how wrong you are. "Here's your fuckin' offer." Without another word, he drags you forward to plaster his lips against yours in an angry kiss.

It should feel terrible. It should make you so angry you slap him. It should make you feel a hell of a lot of nasty things, but instead what you feel is the undeniable melting of your own self against him, finally getting the only thing you’ve wanted since the day this infuriating cowboy sauntered into your life. Jack is firm under your hands, burning hot and intoxicatingly inviting in the way he does not pull away. You must have gotten so mad you blacked out, because this is impossible.

When you don’t push him away, when you don’t slap him, Jack growls. Using the soft sigh that you give to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth with another groan as the cheers and sing of Auld Lang Syne happens all around the two of you.

Either you’ve burst a blood vessel from being so angry and ashamed or this is the best dream you’ve ever had. Jack wraps both of his arms tight around you and you cling to him, fists dig into the arm of his suit jacket and the hair on the nape of his neck as you silently beg this hallucination never to end. You can live and die in this moment and tell yourself that it was more than a dream. You can imagine this is exactly how fiercely Jack kisses when he really wants to. When he wants someone.

The kiss has turned from an angry mashing of his lips against yours to a passionate mingling of your breath and tongues. You whimper and his entire body tighten with need. Overriding the portion of his brain that is screaming that this is a bad idea, that he is bad for you and continuing to kiss you as everyone else has moved into dancing now.

Neither one of you has realized that his hat has been knocked off, or that he’s drawn you so close your back has bowed, or even that you’ve entirely given up on needing to breathe in order to never have to stop kissing him. Years of repressed desire and soul-crushingly unrequited love are just being poured into every second you spend drowning in this impossible fantasy.

“Well damn.” Champ chuckles from his position on the dance floor with his lovely wife. “Didn’t expect that long of a show. Boy don’t stop soon, he’s gonna devour her right there in the middle of the floor.”

“That’s what happens when you repress your feelings for six goddamn years,” Ginger snorts in amusement. “Should I go interrupt them?”

“No.” Champ decides with a shake of his silvery head. “Leave ‘em. Don’t want the boy to get spooked before he makes up his mind what’s gonna happen next.”

“And he will.” Ginger agrees with that completely. Jack spooks faster than a newborn foal.

“He would, where she’s concerned. Boy has his heart in it and he’s been fightin’ it.” Champ agrees as his wife chuckles. “He will figure it out.” She promises. “Rye won’t let him walk away from this with a smile and a handshake.”

“I think she’d rather die than let him go, at this rate.” The smile on Ginger’s face is soft. Glad that her friend is finally getting everything she — you — have ever wanted. It really is only oxygen that makes the two of you pull apart, panting for breath with fingers curled into each other’s flesh and clothes like you’re hanging on for dear life.

Jack’s eyes are dark and searching as he looks at you. Looking for the answer to a question and when he finds what he’s looking for, he grabs your hand and starts to drag you off the dance floor.

“Jack?” The realization that that really just happened ignites a small panic in your chest and a riot in your mind, and the fact that Jack hasn’t let go of you or run off in disgust is only confusing you more.

He doesn’t speak, he can’t speak right now. The people on the floor just seem to part, moving out of his way as he guides you off the floor. He does squeeze your hand though.

“Jack?” The longer he goes without saying anything the higher the panic rises, but you cling to his hand all the way to the front door of Champ’s house where the front room has been transformed into a coat closet.

Jack doesn’t answer and spins you around to press you up against the wall, kissing you again. “Get your fuckin’ coat.” He demands roughly.

It’s a much briefer kiss but it leaves you breathless all the same, and the determination in his eyes makes you shiver and rush to obey. If this is what you’re going to get with him — just a few demanding kisses before he decides it was a mistake and turns you away? Then you’ll take it.

His hat is missing, Jack realizes when he goes to readjust it and frowns. Patting his head and looking around to see if it fell off around here, but it’s nowhere in sight. It’s a small price to pay, but he runs his hand through his hair as you rush back to his side. “We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t seem angry, but for the life of you there is no version of tonight that goes any further. Not in your mind. A conversation about how you shouldn’t have kissed him — or at least kissed him back, since you have a dim memory of his hand pulling you to him right before your mind went blank — or at least about how it was a mistake is bound to follow.

The second your hand is in his again, Jack is dragging you through the doors and down the stairs of the house to his Bronco. He’s parked close, thank god and he can barely get the door open before he’s grabbing your waist and practically throwing you up into the seat.

It shouldn't be a thrill to be lifted up and tossed around as though you weigh next to nothing, but there is something in Jack's singular determination and focus that tells you not to question or fight it. If he wants to manhandle you a little before whatever uncomfortable confrontation is bound to happen? Well, it's not as though you haven't literally fantasized about that scenario. At least now you have a frame of reference.

He’s holding onto his control, barely. Racing around the front of the vehicle and jumping in beside you. He can’t even talk to you as he starts the engine. Thankful that his place isn’t too far away as he throws the Bronco into gear and slings gravel as he spins out.

The most surprising part might be that he reaches for your hand as he drives. His fingers curl through yours and hold onto you on top of the gear shift, not letting you do your usual thing of shifting away or curling in on yourself in uncertainty.

There’s only two miles left to go. He grunts as he slows down to make the turn and your hand moves the shifter with him, making sure that he doesn’t squeeze it too hard as he goes through the gears.

He's driving to his own house. You've done this route yourself more times than you can count for a thousand different reasons. The apartment that you rent with your ample Statesman salary is well on the other side of Louisville and Ginger lives closer to you than to Jack, so it's not like you have any doubt where he's headed. When he pulls the Bronco down his long and winding driveway toward the large farmhouse he's called home for a decade already, your hand tightens slightly in his, nervous and wondering what will come next.

When he cuts the engine, there’s a half a second before he opens the door. Almost speaking but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s climbing out to walk around the truck to open the door.

"I wish you would say something." Even if he's helping you out of the car and holding onto your hand, you can't figure out what's going on in his head. Not having any clue is making you a little panicky the longer it goes on.

Jack stops, two steps away from the path to the front door. “Do you want to come inside?” There’s a fear that you don’t want this. That you are not on the same page as he is.

He's not angry. Or upset anymore, that you can tell. But the determination in his gaze is still there for something that you can't quite put your finger on. "Yes," you decide, nodding as you step toward both him and the house. "I do." Whatever happens, you're hopeful it won't be bad.

You said yes. Your words spur him on again and he’s off like a shot, dragging you behind him. The biometric lock is a godsend. There’s no fumbling for a key at the door as he hustles you inside and slams it behind you both, pressing you against it as he attempts to devour your mouth once more.

This was not the reaction you expected. Not in any way. Not even when he had kissed you twice at Champ’s house before hauling you over to his place with the fires of hell scorching his toes. Anybody else might have read the signals, but not you. Not with the surprised squeal you let out or the soft moan that follows it — both completely outside of your control.

You’re alone now and this time, Jack doesn’t keep his hands on your waist. Both hands grab firm handfuls of your delightful round ass and squeezes as he presses into you. His painfully hard cock grinding into the soft pouches of your hips.

Because of the complete blanket of disbelief you're living under, it takes you longer than you're proud of or will ever admit to realize what is pressing against your hip. It's the first throbbing twitch from under his perfectly tailored suit that has your eyes flying open and both of your hands pressing firmly on his shoulders, breaking the kiss as you gasp in surprise.

“What- I thought-“ Jack’s frown is one of utter confusion as he drops his hands and steps back from you. Hating the feeling of rejection and suddenly wondering if he’s made a fucking fool of himself by getting twisted in knots by a woman who doesn’t actually want him. “‘m sorry.”

"Why?" The incredulous question is out of your mouth before you can stop it, and the confusion marring both of your faces makes you suck in a deep breath. "I—I just—I'm surprised," you admit, as damned foolish as that makes you sound. Fucking shocked is what you are, but you don't want to be labor the point and ruin whatever is happening.

He feels foolish and embarrassed, like he’s been caught with his hand in a candy jar. Reaching up and running his hand through his hair, he blows out a breath. “You said you wanted to come in.” He reasons. “I- what did you think would happen?”

"I—I don't know," you admit, feeling even more ridiculous than he does. Your back is still against his front door, crying out loud. "I ruled out you still being mad at me after you kissed me again but I didn't think..." Gesturing at him lamely, you blow out a breath and rub at the back of your neck. "I'm not saying I want to stop, I was just surprised." If this is the only chance you're going to get with him? You're going to take it and run with it as long as it lasts.

He frowns again, wondering how you could want him and yet be surprised when he wants to take you to bed. “So what do you want, sugar? Because I’m feeling like a penny at the bottom of a pan, rattled.”

The expression cracks the tension, at least for you, and an unexpectedly bright and beaming smile graces your lips as you reach for him boldly and find to your own delight and continued surprise that he doesn't draw away. "What I want is...a long shot." It's more than that, but you're downplaying your own fears to a rather extreme degree right now. Trying to be brave. "But...what are the odds you were thinkin' about taking me upstairs?"

“House odds.” Jack rasps out, knowing that the odds are always in the house’s favor when playing at a casino. “Pondered the idea of strippin’ you down right here and making you squeal against the door, but then tossin’ you over my shoulder and haulin’ you to my large, luxurious bed also has its merits.”

You genuinely have to shut your eyes to steady yourself, exhaling long and deep and praying you aren't actually moaning out loud like you are in your head. As it stands, both images he paints have your knees weak and your body shivering. "Eith—um—either one," you manage to stammer out, eyelashes parting so hesitantly that they flutter like wings. "Either one is good."

“Sexy as you look, sugar….” Now that he knows that you are on the same page as him, a little bit of the cocky swagger is back. “Thinkin’ it’d be a goddamn shame not to spread you out.” Despite your stature, Jack tucks his shoulder and scoops you up over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, bolting for the stairs.

"Holy hell, Jack!" A nervous shout and a squeak escape you when he picks you up, and you cling to his jacket as he carries you through the house you've visited innumerable times before.

Chuckling, Jack slaps your ass with his free hand as he ambles up the stairs easily. “Don’t be nervous, sugar, I won’t drop you.”

This time you definitely do moan out loud, too taken by surprise to stop the sound or swallow it before it can come out of your mouth and you know Jack heard.

He grins to himself, slapping your ass again and is rewarded with another moan. “Mmmmhm.” He chuckles. “Rye likes a little bit of light spanking. Noted.”

"Pretty sure I'll like anything you do," you admit ruefully, though you're quickly feeling the constraints of embarrassment fall away as he reaches his bedroom door. This is real. This is really happening.

"I'll keep that in mind when I hogtie you to the bed and lick whipped cream off your body." He teases, kicking open the slightly ajar door and striding into the room to toss you down on the bed like a character in a romance novel. Right now, he doesn't know if he's supposed to be the hero or the villain, feeling a bit like both as his rough handling of you as him immediately reaching for your ankles to pull off your shoes in his eagerness to see you naked in his bed.

“See?” You huff at him, heavy breathing coming from nothing but an undeniable surplus of desire. “That actually sounds sexy coming from you.” Everything does, but his quick fingers are divesting you of your shoes and that reminds you how your Spanx is part of this undressing process — which is the single least sexy thing in the world.

Jack rips off his tuxedo jacket and tosses it down on the floor. Climbing up onto the bed and over you to press against you fully, pinning you down to the bed with a groan. Quickly capturing your lips again in a frenzied kiss.

It makes no damn sense to you, but you’re not going to question it anymore. If Jack could have literally anyone in the world but for tonight he chooses you, then you’re just going to make sure he doesn’t regret it. That decision on your part sort of pulls you out of your nervous shock, and all at once your hands are pulling open his tie and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt with enthusiasm.

“There we go.” Jack groans when you stop acting shocked and start acting. Your hands on his body makes him shake and he can’t help but rock his hips forward. “Sugar.”

He could probably call you whatever he wanted and you would just go with it, but hearing him call you Sugar — that sickly sweet name he favors so much yet seems to bestow on you so rarely? It feels like you might melt so deeply into his plush mattress that you will never get up again.

Moving from your lips takes sheer willpower but he wants to explore more of you. One hand bracing on the bed and the other sliding up to squeeze your breast as he kisses down your chin and to the soft, vulnerable skin of your throat. “Driving me crazy, baby girl.” He coos, voice rough and lusty. “So goddamn pretty.”

No one who has ever met Jack would be surprised to learn how mouthy the cowboy is in bed. He’s mouthy in every other aspect of his life so frankly it would be pretty strange if this was the exception. Still, to hear those words said to you is beyond your wildest dreams. It’s surreal in the most sensational of ways. Even when you had dreamed of being with Jack, you had never dreamed of him praising you.

He groans when your fingernails bite into the skin on his chest as you hastily push the shirt opened. “Tigress, huh?” He growls, squeezing your tit again, a little harder this time and his hard cock pulses against your inner thigh. “Don’t worry, sugar. I’m just as goddamn eager as you. But ‘ole Jack likes a bit of wildness.” He bites down on your shoulder as he chuckles. “We’ll have ourselves one hell of a rodeo tonight.”

If you even knew where half this boldness came from, you might be a little embarrassed. But given the fact that you never thought this would happen, it mostly just feels like you're telling yourself not to waste the chance. Lightning never strikes the same place twice and this is your lightning strike, so you're going to lean into the whole thing if that's what he really wants. Your nails strike a path down his chest but get caught in his undershirt, a fact which makes you huff in frustration and search blindly for the hem to tear off that layer of clothing as well.

Jack groans and finally decides to give you what you want. Pulling back long enough to finish pulling his arms out of the shirt sleeves, he tears the undershirt off and throws it off the side of the bed to reveal his chest. Unable to resist pulling your dress down to pop your breast out and diving back down to wrap his mouth around a nipple.

"Oh fuck." It's a move you weren't expecting, but your back arches off the mattress instinctively to push your chest up and invite him to take and take and take — just as much as he wants to. If you were coherent enough to suggest it you would try to start wiggling out of your dress but as it is the only thing you can focus on is the heat of him surrounding you and the way every place he kisses you seems to catch on fire immediately at the press of his lips.

He suckles, bites and then licks the hard nub in his mouth like he’s gorging himself on you. Because he is. Hands searching for the zipper to your gorgeous dress. It’s beautiful, but it needs to be beautiful on his floor.

"If you want it off, you have to let me sit up," you manage to huff out, barely able to do more than pant at the way he's clearly trying to devour your tits first.

Groaning in protest, his lips are twisting in a pout as he pulls away. Panting breathlessly as he itches to launch himself at you again. “Hurry up, sugar.”

Your hands are shaking when you reach for the zipper, pulling it down and carefully undoing the clasp at the top before letting the heavily sequined cocktail dress slip off of your arms so you can maneuver it over your head. Half-naked in Jack's bed with panties so soaked you could probably wring them out is not how you expected to end this night, but here you are.

“Fuck.” Jack frowns at the tight shapewear he’s met with. “My present’s a little too wrapped for my liking, baby girl.” He hisses, curling his fingers under the layer to start stripping it off of you. “Want you naked.”

"It was the only way that dress was gonna look halfway decent," you mumble, shifting under him and definitely avoiding looking him in the face while he peels the Spanx off of you. It's a little bit too intimate even for the man you've wanted to be intimate with for years — to the point of making you feel completely naked even when you still have your bra and panties on.

He scoffs, nearly ready to whip his knife out and start slicing the material. “Bullshit.” He huffs, happy there’s just the bra and he uses two fingers to flick the four hooks open. “You don’t need nothin’.” Instead of explaining, he’s diving back into your tits while one hand dips into your panties.

“Fuck, Jack!” Instead of a tight reaction of shock, this time he’s rewarded with a moan and your legs falling open for him as the fingers of one hand dig through his thick hair to scratch along the base of his scalp. If he wants you to be bold, you’ll be bold. You’ll be whatever Jack wants as long as you just get to be in his bed for one night.

Jack moans against your tits, incredibly turned on by the pure moxy he’s always loved in you. Despite your utterly untrue view on yourself, you are sassy, sweet and sexy. That’s why he’s unable to resist now that he’s tasted you. Once he’s teased one breast enough, he switches to the other. “Gonna eat you up, sugar. Devour you whole.”

"All yours." It's sort of unintentional, the vow-like nature of the thing, but you're just being honest. You've really been Jack's since the day you met him. Even if it's taken so many damn years to get the two of you into this situation together, it's still the truth. "Whatever you want, handsome."

He groans, fingers sliding through the sweet slick that is covering your folds. “Want you.” He mumbles as he starts to slide his finger deeper, pressing against your entrance.

It's not even in your mind to ask why when he's splitting you open on two thick fingers like that, and you swear if that's how this night is starting you might actually ascend directly to some higher plain if you get to actual sex. "Ha—fuck— you have me."

“Mmmmmm.” He licks your nipple “Not yet.” He pouts, pulling his fingers back out of you to plunge them in again. “But I will, sugar. Cum for me and then I’ll have you like I’ve been dreamin’.”

The curse you groan out is nearly incoherent, more of an agreement than anything else but you'll be damned if you let this moment be anything less than memorable for both of you. Jack hovers over you and you wind your arms around him to encourage him to continue sucking on your tits while his fingers piston in and out of your pussy with determination. You know it won't take too much longer before your legs start to shake, and as if Jack knows it just as intuitively, he curls his fingers inside you and you gasp out a moan of his name.

His teeth nip at your sensitive flesh as he hisses. Feeling how tight your pussy squeezes his fingers and imagines his cock inside you. Tight and fucking scorching hot, just like he had imagined with his hand wrapped around his cock in the shower. “That’s it, pretty girl.” He coos before he sucks on your nipple again. Moaning when you arch up, writhing under him and making the prettiest, most desperate sounds he’s heard in a long time.

No one who has ever been in this bed has ever left it with any remaining doubts about Jack’s skills as a lover, and while you knew that before? Now you understand it oh-so-very deeply. His fingers pump into you mercilessly, curling at just the right angle to make you cry out in pleasure in every pass, and yet somehow he’s managed to keep the angle of that curl perfect while still holding them apart — stretching your eager pussy open and making sure you’re ready to take every inch of him. All of those intricacies combine with the dedication attention he is lavishing on your tits, and when the tense coil of restraint in your belly snaps it explodes into a thousand white-hot stars behind your eyes as you cum for him.

You’re gorgeous when you fall apart, just like he knew you would be. Keeping his fingers moving, he watches, enthralled with you as you cry out his name in a pitch that has his cock throbbing. The hot gush of your pleasure makes his fingers squelch inside you and he groans out your name while he starts to slow down the rhythm of his hand, letting you float down from your orgasm, drawing it out for you.

“Holy hell…” When your eyes open again you’re completely boneless beneath him, giggling softly at the light-as-air feeling in your body that never ever feels lighter than anything.

Dragging his wet fingers out of your cunt is his own personal kind of hell, but the urge to taste you is too great. Watching you with dark eyes as he slips his two fingers into his mouth with a lusty groan.

“Take your pants off.” The way you groan it is nearly an order but you definitely meant it to be begging, though at this point you don’t care. Especially when he arches an eyebrow at you and smirks. “Take your fucking pants off, Jack.”

Chuckling, he shuffles off the bed to oblige you. “Never let it be said I don’t follow orders, sugar.” He winks as he kicks off the tuxedo pants and hooks his fingers into his boxer briefs. “These too?”

“The fact that you even wear underwear is a shock,” you tease, motioning for him to continue stripping and trying — but probably not succeeding — to not stare.

He smirks. “Had to contain the beast for once.” He winks as he drags the tight material down. “Don’t wear ‘em normally.”

The Beast is probably as good a name as any, and you have to swallow a groan when he frees his throbbing cock — already damp with precum. It’s a wonder he can contain it, and you’re caught in between wanting to bend forward and taste him or just lying back for him to have his way with you. Curiosity and a curtain of lust win out on the short struggle, and you lean forward to take the purple head of his cock in your mouth just after he climbs back onto the bed.

“Fuck!” Jack moans out loudly and pushes your head away gently after a moment. “Baby, baby…” he pants. “You keep that up and this rodeo will be over before it starts.”

“Sorry…” Embarrassment burns your cheeks, and you shift back to get under his blankets. “I just had to know…”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Jack huffs. Kneeling on the bed and pulling the covers away as you hide your body away from his eyes. “Just don’t want to embarrass myself by blowing my load because of your pretty mouth before I can hear you scream my name.”

“I already have,” you remind him, a softness in your tone belied by the heat in both of your eyes. “Guess I might have to be a little louder this time.”

“Only if it’s right in my ear.” Jack wraps his hand around his cock and strokes it as he reaches for your thigh. “Buried deep inside that little cunt and feeling like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

It goes without saying that you’re both clean. All Statesman agents are required to have clean bills of health in order to be on the roster for missions and you’re both active agents. “I—have an IUD.” Is what you tell him instead, shivering a little at the reality of what is about to happen.

Eyes lighting up in delight, Jack’s lips curl up. “Oh sugar, it’s not my birthday yet, why are you showerin’ me with presents?” He coos, sliding his hand up and down your ample thigh. “Pretty as a damn picture.”

The real answer is that you’re desperate to feel him, but you just smirk instead, not wanting to get your heart more involved than it already is. “Because I don’t have a condom and I’ll be damned if we stop now because of it.”

“If you want me to get one…” Jack motions back to his pants. “I have one in my wallet.”

“I don’t want the barrier,” you admit, biting your lip at the extremely vulnerable nature of that confession. “If it’s okay with you.”

His smirk turns into a wicked grin. “You read my mind, sugar. I want to feel all of you.”

You could make a joke about how much of you there is to feel, but just this once you stifle the urge. Opting instead to reach out and gently cup Jack's cheeks in both of your hands before pressing a soft, earnest kiss to his lips. "Then what are you waiting for, Cowboy?”

As you lean back, Jack follows you. Climbing up your body and groaning as he settles between your thighs. “You want to cum again, pretty girl?”

"Not without you this time." The reality of Jack is better than anything you thought so far. Since this miracle is surely once in a lifetime, you want it to be as amazing as possible.

Jack groans your name, pressing his lips to yours in another hot, wet kiss. Passionate and consuming as he pushes an arm underneath you. “I’m right here with you.”

As impossible as it seems, he really is. He is right there with you, taking you in his arms and making you feel delicate and desirable for the first real time in your entire adult life.

He doesn’t rush, although he wants to. Every kiss is slow and thorough. Reaching down between you to take hold of himself to notch at your entrance. “Hold on, sugar. See if we can ride for longer than eight seconds.”

“I’m not gonna buck you, Jack.” You can promise him that, because you know damn well you’re going to hold onto this moment for dear life and not question the gift that it is. This one little shining moment is just for the two of you and you’re never going to forget a single second of it.

His eyes are watching, burning into yours as he starts to slowly rock his hips forward. Breaking you open with the first inch of his cock and swooping in to kiss you again when you gasp.

The world slows down, motions stretching into time and blending together in ways that you can’t quite wrap your head around so all you know in this moment is Jack. Every time he thrusts forward again your moans get that much deeper, until on the final experimental rock of his hips, he is seated fully inside you and you feel so spellbound and grateful for the moment that you’re all but sure you could cry. Instead you pour yourself into kissing him, rocking your own hips slightly to take him more comfortably and adjust to the weighty feeling of having him inside you.

“Fuck, baby girl.” Jack inhales sharply, stealing your breath as he tries to rein himself in, throbbing violently inside you. If it weren’t for the fact that he had promised you a rodeo, he would be cumming, overwhelmed by how hot and tight you are. You’re perfect, just like he always imagined. “You be a good girl and take my cock, m’kay?”

Good girl is another one of those sticking points for you just like getting your ass slapped, and if Jack had no idea before, he certainly does now, from the way your cunt just spasmed around his length and you moaned like you were coming all over again.

“Ohhhhhh.” Jack’s eyes nearly cross and he gives a particularly sharp thrust when you clamp down around him. “You like that.” He pants out. “You’re my good girl?”

“S’not fair,” you huff, throwing him a playful pout that gets cut by another shaky moan. “You’re finding all the buttons I like pushed way too easily.”

“You haven’t - fuck - figured out my buttons yet, sugar?” Jack ducks his head down and slides the arm not underneath you down your hip and thigh to pull it up higher. Sinking deeper into you with a moan of your name.

“Liking to have your cock sucked doesn’t—fuck!— count,” you tell him, back arching as he hits a new angle inside you.

He chuckles and licks at your pulse before he nips at your skin with his teeth. Fingers digging into your pillowy flesh and groans when you clench around him again.

Finding a rhythm is as easy as breathing. Being with him is so much more natural and intuitive than you dreamt it would be. Your natural tendency to be a little rougher is equaled by his enthusiasm for making the bedroom a loud and raucous experience. There’s no hiding from each other or demurring, not once you get going. It’s like something inside you has finally been unlocked after a lifetime of waiting — waiting for Jack to come along with the key that would open you up.

If it surprises Jack that you are wild in bed, it’s probably the best goddamn surprise he’s ever gotten. His back burns from the raking of your nails when he hits deep. He fucking loves it. Your wildness makes him go absolutely feral over you.

It’s the opposite of who you are in everyday life. A version of you just for him. A version of you that leaves your worries outside the circle of your bodies and embraces sex as something carefree. Which, if you’re honest, isn’t really how you’ve felt about sex with anyone besides Jack. (edited)

His lips and teeth map every inch that he can reach as he pumps in and out of you frantically. Trying to keep the pace hard and fast because every time your cunt clenches, his hips stutter from how fucking tight you are. “Fuck, my good girl.” He growls. “So fucking tight.”

“So fucking big,” you give back, starting to pant heavier and more unevenly. There’s a whine forming in the back of your throat that you can’t hold back and you bite down on the juncture of Jack’s shoulder as your legs threaten to shake all over again. You’re so close to cumming but you don’t want this to end.

Jack changes the tempo, slowing down and grinding his pelvis against your clit. “You gonna cum for me, baby girl?” He rasps out. “Cum on Jack’s big ‘ole cock and soak me?”

"So—oh, fuck—close, baby." The way you feel right now, you might actually fall apart at the seams when you cum again, but it will be worth it. It will be worth just knowing first hand how gorgeous Jack looks when he follows you over the edge. "Don't stop. Don't fucking stop, Jack."

“Never.” Jack growls, smashing his teeth together and hissing at the way you claw and writhe under him. It’s like taming a feral cat in a pillowcase and he loves it. Your thighs are crushing his hips and all he can do is imagine them around his head. “Cum for me.”

A half dozen thrusts later, your cunt is clenching down on his cock and pulsing with a fierce orgasm that has your thighs tensing at his waist and your back bowing off the bed. Everything seems to be happening at the top of however it possibly could, and that includes the way you cry his name into the night before collapsing back into his sheets with your arms and legs still around him, willing him to follow you to bliss.

Jack moans your name, pants it again against your lips. His brow knitted in concentration as he tries to last. His body tightening and tensing as his pleasure builds to that almost painful precipice. His heart pounding, but not because of the physical exertion, but because of the almost loving look on your eyes. “Love you.” He moans, right as his lips crash against yours and he breathes it into your mouth again. “Love you.”

You freeze under him, but Jack is too caught in his bliss to tell. Like a bucket of water has been splashed over the bubble of this night and popped that shell keeping you separate from the world. Did he just...? There's no way. There's just absolutely no way at all. You must have imagined it. Wished for it so desperately that you hallucinated the words. Because otherwise you're not quite sure what you'll do — because Jack has never lied to you. But he's also never given you any reason to think your feelings might be requited.

Caught up in his orgasm, Jack rides wave after wave of complete bliss as he empties himself into you, metaphorically and physically. Giving you every bit of himself as he finally acknowledges the truth of why he has always kept you at arms length. His love for you terrifying him, but right now, he’s flying. Collapsing into your arms and panting out your name as he catches his breath.

There's nothing you can do with this shock except bury it, holding him and gently stroking his hair while he catches his breath with his head on your chest. You imagined it, you remind yourself silently, blinking back tears at how much you wish it was true.

The whiskey, the emotions and the exertion have Jack cuddly and sleepy as he comes down from his orgasm. “Fuck, baby girl.” He hums, kissing your neck as he slowly pulls out of you and shifts to your side to roll you over with him. “Wore me out.” He chuckles. “But gave a hell of a ride.”

He tucks you into his arms to be his little spoon, not letting you get away for even a second. Any other time? This would have been thrilling. "Get some sleep, baby." Returning the pet name seems innocent enough, and you reach back to run your fingers through his hair gently. "You earned it."

His eyes are closed when he shoots you a sleepy grin. “Talk when we wake up, sugar.” He promises, fingers stroking your skin softly.

That promise might be why you sleep so fitfully in the night to follow. Why you're so wound up that when your Statesman issued phone chirps from your purse on his floor around 6:30 in the morning, your eyes open immediately. Jack has turned over in the night, sleeping on his back now with one arm still around you but not so tightly that you can't extract yourself to answer the message. That phone is used only for missions and confidential communication, meaning you absolutely cannot ignore it. Incoming Message: Agent Rye report immediately for mission briefing. CODE BLACK. Code Black. You curse under your breath, careful not to wake Jack, and rub one hand down your face in dismay. That level of secrecy in a mission assignment means you can't even wake him up to say goodbye. You're supposed to speak to no one, just proceed immediately to the nearest Statesman branch for your mission briefing. With a sigh and another, more colorful curse, you shake your head and glance back at the bed where Jack is sleeping soundly. There's nothing to do but get dressed and Walk of Shame your ass into the office. You just wish you could wake him up to say goodbye.

It’s been years since Jack has slept so well. Deep and dreamless, none of the nightmares that often plague his rest. The soft scent of you surrounding him and soothing him like nothing he’s had in a long time. When his eyes open, he’s feeling like he’s had the best sleep of his life. Frowning when he doesn’t feel you next to him. Calling out your name softly in case you were in the bathroom. “Rye? Sugar?”

There's no trace of you anywhere. He may as well have come home alone last night, except for the scent of you in the air and the scratches on his back. It's almost an insult when he sees a fallen sequin on the rug where your dress had been tossed.

“Fuck.” Jack’s slipped out of plenty of beds, ducked out and kept walking. The walk of shame was never shameful when there was a little bit of pep to his step, but right now, he’s pissed. Pissed you didn’t have the fucking balls to wake him before you slipped off like a thief in the night. Snatching up his pants, he digs into the pocket for his phone, dialing your number and ready to have it out with you.

"Hi! Sorry I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I'm able!" Your voicemail message is insultingly chipper when it picks up right away, almost taunting him. Like you aren't willing to talk, when nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Fuck!” Jack shouts, throwing the phone and scowling angrily. Pissed that you aren’t here, that you apparently don’t want to talk to him. “Fine, you regret it? Fuck you too.” He growls and stomps into the bathroom to shower. If you wanted nothing to do with him after he had let down his walls last night, he wants nothing to do with you either.

******

"What's got you all chewed up and spat out today?" Tequila raises an eyebrow at Jack when he comes huffing into the office, a little late and a lot pissed off. He had expected Jack to be in a stellar mood.

“Not a goddamn thing.” Even though his feathers are ruffled, Jack practically refuses to even think about you. To the point where he had thrown the sheets and the costly Tom Ford tuxedo away. “Whadda we got?” Desperate to concentrate on a mission, he jumps straight into business.

"Wingman prep." Tequila tells him, tapping the folder on his own desktop. "Somebody got tapped this morning and Champ wants us to comb some old mission files to prep for an extraction. Plan B sorta shit." And since all of the mission-ready agents on the Statesman payroll are top notch with years of experience under their belts, anyone potentially needing an extraction from a mission is a big fucking deal.

“Who got tapped?” Jack asks, grabbing a file and flipping it open with a frown on his face. “Scotch?”

"I thought you'd know already." Tequila's eyes snap back up to Jack in concern. "It was Rye."

Jack freezes and slowly lifts his eyes from the file to find Tequila frowning at him, confused by how he doesn’t know. “Why would I know that?” Jack asks after a moment. It explains why your phone was off, but you had still slipped out without saying a fucking word.

"Because...you went home with her last night?" Everybody knows that you and Jack left the party. Absolutely everyone. There was a whole extra celebration after you left. "Figured you woulda known by her getting up this morning and all."

There’s a split second where Jack wants to snap that you had left him to wake up alone, but he doesn’t. What comes out of his mouth instead, is to deny the whole thing. “Took her home.” Jack shrugs, lying easily as if he couldn’t care less. “She wanted to soak in a bath and read some book.”

The frown on Tequila's face deepens measurably, pure confusion marring his usually chipper face. "Bullshit," he huffs, leaning back in his desk chair. "I saw you kiss her. No way."

“Believe what you want.” Jack snaps flatly. “Where are we in planning the back up plans?” The hurt is soothed slightly by you being called away, but it doesn’t make it nonexistent. You hadn’t even left a goddamn message for him. He could have seen not waking him if you had left some sign that you didn’t regret the night even happened.

"Early stages." Knowing better than to poke the dragon when he's mad about something, Tequila defers to work like Jack clearly wants. "Tell me what you think, but I think me on the ground and you in the Silver Pony is the best bet." Whatever happened between you and Jack, the man is clearly hurt, and Tequila makes a note to go and talk to Ginger when he gets his next chance. If you had said anything to anyone, it would be to her.

“Whatever.” Jack practically rolls his eyes and shrugs. Usually he loves the opportunity to fly and show off in the Silver Pony, but he’s so worked up over you that he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “Guess that’s the plan. If needed.”

“If needed.” All Tequila does is nod, but damn he really needs to talk to Ginger.

******

Jack holes up in his office, barely answering the phone and not leaving it all day, not even for lunch. Catching up on paperwork that is normally never done as he works through not being at home. Not remembering how you tasted and sounded last night. He’s even refused to pull up your camera footage, not wanting to see what you are doing. He’s miserable and is determined to stay that way.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Champ’s gruff voice cuts through the silence long after everyone else has gone home for the night. He knew exactly where Jack would be. Especially after Tequila said the senior agent was out of sorts. “Come up to my office, Jack. We’re gonna have a drink.” It’s not a suggestion or a request. This is a direct order from this commander, and Champ turns around and heads back down the hall knowing Jack will follow.

Jack sighs and sets his pen down, ripping the reading glasses off his face and tossing them down on the folder. He had stayed cooped up in his office so he didn’t take his bad mood out on anyone so he doesn’t see why he needs to be called out onto the carpet. Still, he pushes back from his desk and follows the older man to the conference room Champ preferred over his official office. The bar cart in here was better stocked.

“Pick your poison.” Champ tells him, motioning for Jack to sit down at the conference table as he strolls over to the cart to grab a bottle and two glasses.

“Whatever your havin’.” Jack wonders what this is about, but he doesn’t ask. Just waits patiently for his boss to get to the reason in his own sweet time.

Champ grunts slightly, grabbing a bottle of ‘74 Reserve, and brings it to the table. He pours two fingers in each glass and slides one over to set in front of Jack before sitting down beside him and taking a sip from his own glass. “You’ve been hidin’ today,” he assesses after a moment of silence. “But I hear you damn near took Tequila’s head off this morning when you got in.”

“Can’t have a bad day?” Jack asks, picking up the whiskey and staring at it before taking a sip. “Woke up wrong, that’s all. I’ll apologize to the crybaby later.”

“He’s not a damn crybaby,” Champ huffs, covering his own amusement with a scowl. “I walked by your damn office, fool. And when he did come talk to me about it, it was because he was worried about you.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jack scowls and shakes his head. “I had a bad morning. I’m fine. Not gonna go off and try to kill all the drug users again.”

“Not saying you would.” Holding up his hands in a show of innocence, Champ leans back all the way and stares down his nose at Jack for a second longer before he shakes his head and shrugs. “But between you and me just these walls? Just thought you might wanna know that Rye got sent off Code Black, is all.” He isn’t supposed to say. Black is black. It’s too priority and top security. But you’d been so torn up this morning and Jack’s been so out of sorts in his own way that Champ has rightfully assumed that something fairly big must’ve happened after you left the party.

His jaw nearly drops. Champ never gives information away like that. He frowns, looking back down at his glass again and feeling relieved. If you had gotten a Code Black, you couldn’t wake him up. It would have been against protocol. He swallows and finally nods. “Good to know.”

“Just don’t want you stewing over it.” The older man says, watching carefully as he sips from his glass again. “You wanna be upset with anyone, it’s me. Not her.”

“Right.” Jack drains the rest of the whiskey and the crystal hits the table slightly harder than normal. “Anything else?”

“Nah. That’s it.” There’s nothing more that Champ can really say, and now Jack needs to process. That’s just how these things work. “See ya in the morning, Daniels.”

Jack stands. “‘Night, Champ.” He walks out of the room and back down the hall towards his office, looking down at his feet as he goes.

******

It’s two weeks before Tequila and Jack are given a stand-down order and told their rescue mission won’t be necessary. Mission success, they’re told with authority, even though it took longer than expected. They don’t get more than that, though, and Jack is walking past Ginger’s lab on his way out of the office late that night when he hears your voice again for the first time in weeks. It’s tired, and quiet, but unmistakable. “Can we just get this over with, Ging?” You ask your friend quietly, knowing that decontamination and a full physical are extremely necessary considering where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing. But you want to get the hell out of here and finally go talk to Jack.

He would never admit it, but he’s been living at Statesman. Barely going home to change and often refreshing the outfits that he keeps in his office for unexpected late nights. On call the entire time in case you needed him. Now you are here and Jack feels like running away. So much self doubt had built up over two weeks, he’s driven himself crazy over every little thing. Obsessing over the details of New Years.

“Once you have a clean bill of health, you go storm the ranch or whatever it is you’re going to do.” Ginger teases, full of warmth. “But I would try his office first.”

Jack frowns slightly and wonders what the hell Ginger is talking about, storming the ranch. He almost pushes the door open, but he doesn’t. Just wants to see what you will say if you know that he’s not listening.

“It’s been two weeks, Ging.” The pops and hums and beeps of her equipment punctuate your voice from inside the lab. “Every single second I haven’t been thinking about this mission I’ve been reliving that night. And I could kill Champ for sending me away Code fucking Black before I could even tell Jack how I feel about him.”

“I know it was bad timing.” He hears Ginger sigh. “But hopefully it gave you some time to think about what you’re going to say?”

Jack’s stomach twists and he feels nauseous. Wondering if you’ve decided that it was a mistake. He swallows harshly and whirls around, not wanting to hear how you plan on letting him down or friend zoning him.

“I’m going to tell him the truth,” he misses hearing you say. “That I’ve been in love with him for six years, and that I’m done being a coward about it.” This mission so easily could have killed you every single day that it became something of an eye opener. Getting back to Jack had become the most dominant and driving force in your mind at times.

Walking down to his office has Jack twisted in knots. He’s never been a coward before but he damn sure feels like running. Playing back that night in his head over and over had made him realize what he had said. More importantly, what you hadn’t said back. Walking over to his bar cart, he pours himself a heavy double and bolts it down. He’ll get wasted after you crush his hopes but that was needed so he doesn’t beg like a pathetic wretch. He needs to keep his pride somehow.

It’s twenty more minutes before he hears footsteps in the hall and hears your tentative voice calling his name. “Jack?” There’s nerves in it, anxiety hovering around you despite your triumphant mission. But you appear in his doorway looking worried and chewing your lip. “Hey…you’re still here.”

“Work’s never done.” Jack huffs, plastering on a friendly but not too friendly expression. “Haven’t seen you around in a few weeks. Mission go alright?” It’s painful to see you in that doorway, looking tired and beautiful. Reminding him of how you looked before he had fallen asleep and lost you.

“I’m home and in one piece.” It’s what you always say, but at least it’s true. He doesn’t exactly look happy to see you, though, and that makes you falter a little. Not enough to shake your resolve, but your optimism that he’ll respond with joy cracks right away. “Do you…can we talk a little?”

“Sure.” He takes off his reading glasses and stands. Moving over to the alcohol again. “Want a drink?” He asks, not looking over his shoulder at you. He sees the worry on your face and knows you are concerned about your working relationship. What he will do will be accept your wants, wish you well and promise that he will not let what happened affect your professional relationship. Then he will demand a transfer to the New York office, permanently. You nod and he pours out two drinks. “What’s on your mind, Rye?”

“Well…you are.” It seems like such an obvious answer that it almost feels silly saying it, but he won’t even look you in the eye so staring at the beginning seems like a good idea.

“Oh?” Turning around is hard, but he manages to look curious instead of sick to his stomach. “Now why would I be on your mind, sugar?” The endearment slips out and he nearly bites his tongue as he carries them over to the small sofa area.

The message is loud and clear: it really didn’t mean anything to him. Regardless, though, you have to power through. If he really didn’t mean what he said and has no interest in being with you, you’ll request a permanent transfer. Chicago, Dallas, Los Angeles — anywhere but here or New York. Swallowing a sigh, you accept the glass from him but just hold it in your hands while you gather your thoughts. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk before I had to leave,” you start, trying not to let the warmth and proximity of him get under your skin so easily. But you can’t really help it. “I did the best I could for a message to let you know what had happened, but it wasn’t much. And I’m sorry for that, too.”

His facade cracks, the scowl as quick to vanish as it appears and he scoffs. “Message received, Rye. A lone sequin on the floor. Practically like it was a dream, except for that.” He tosses back the whiskey. “Can you just get to the part where you tell me it was a mistake, you don’t want to ruin our friendship or work relationship? Or whatever bullshit excuse you’ve settled on to tell me you regret it?” His eyes are dark and pained when they finally land on you, barely resisting the urge to flee.

“On the floor?” Your brow furrowed instantly, a frown painting itself on your lips, and you set the glass in your hands aside to shift closer to him on the little couch. “Jack, I left a sequin on your nightstand.” The choice was even more horrible than you had worried it would be, apparently, because he looks so hurt he could actually cry. A fact which makes you instantly want to cry as well. “A black sequin was the best I could do for a signal. It—it must have…blown off. Stupid fucking flapper dress with all that fringe. It must have gone flying when I left the room.” There was no other breeze, no window open or fan blowing. Only you could have sabotaged yourself like that.

He doesn’t believe you and shakes his head. “Why would you leave a black-“ he trails off when it hits him. Black sequin - Code Black. Trying to tell him that you had wanted to leave a message but couldn’t. Champ had broken protocol by telling him about the Code Black and apparently you had tried to signal the same thing. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You shake your head in resignation, blowing out a shuddering breath. “I didn’t want to leave. Especially not after…” Another shaky breath leaves the rest of you shaking in turn, and you shove your hands under your legs on the couch. This is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever asked a person in your entire life. “Did you…mean it? What you said?”

Jack bites his lip, wanting to ask you what you’re talking about but he can’t do that. You look distraught that he had thought you had just disappeared. “Yeah.” Jack admits quietly. “Look, I know that it’s not something you were expectin’ ta hear, and you don’t feel the same.” He rolls on with the emotions that he needs to get out. “I won’t be mad, or take it out on you. But that night….fuck.” He blows out a breath. “I got to touch you. Just like I fuckin’ dreamed of. And I couldn’t just let you think it was a heat of the moment thing for me.”

“Why do you think I don’t feel the same?” With your heart beating wildly and your shakiness only increasing, there’s a sort of explosive quality in your mind and body that you can’t quite figure out how to control. Like all you want to do is launch yourself at him for a kiss but you know you need to talk first. To get it all out in the open. To be honest with each other. “I—I honestly had no idea you thought of me as anything but a friend. I was…well…shocked is a bit of an understatement.”

Jack snorts. “I know my reputation. Hell, I crafted it. But I couldn’t flirt with you. It’s too- shit- you had me from the first time we met. I was fucking hooked and it wouldn’t have been right. You were a junior agent and -“ he shakes his head. “I was running from the kind of commitment you were made for.”

“Your reputation was built by a man who had loved his wife so deeply that he couldn’t bear the thought of loving and losing again,” you remind him quietly. You sure you hadn’t known that right away, but when you had learned about his wife and son, you understood implicitly. “But it…it never stopped me from falling in love with you. Even when I thought I’d never be more to you than an acquaintance. I considered myself damn lucky to eventually become your friend. I just thought…I thought the fact that you never, ever flirted with me…meant that it was unrequited. So I made myself okay with it. Until two weeks ago.”

“I respect you, Rye.” Jack murmurs quietly. “I didn’t want to make it seem like you were everyone else, because you weren’t.” It’s backwards and twisted, but no one ever said that he had defeated all his demons. “When I broke- I gave you everything.”

“More than you know.” A soft huff of a laugh escapes you and you shake your head again, willing your nerves to calm down even a little. “Just…please understand, Jack. That I’ve been in love with you since the second I met you. And the only reason I didn’t say it back the night we slept together is because I was so shocked to hear it from you in the first place. I thought I’d hallucinated what I wanted to hear, and then before I knew it we were asleep…and then I woke up to a Code Black.”

“I was upset.” Jack admits quietly. “Really upset.” He flushes slightly. “May have been thinkin’ some not-so-polite things until Tequila told me it was you who was slated for the mission.” He won’t tell you that Champ had broken the rules. “Convinced myself that you had run off to go save the world so you wouldn’t have to tell me that you’d had too much alcohol and that’s why you let me take you home.”

“Not at all.” Taking a chance, you reach for his hand and practically sigh in relief when he slots his fingers through yours. “I pretty much thought I’d died and gone to heaven, if I’m honest. I just kept thinking…if this only happens once, I never want to forget a single thing.” You squeeze his hand gently, wishing you could have said all this two weeks ago. “I’m sorry my message didn’t work. That’s…you have every right to think nasty things about me. I’m so sorry.”

“No I don’t.” Jack protests. “Not if you meant to be here. Not if you wanted to be here the next morning. Then it’s just a bad misunderstanding and I’m sorry.”

“Then I guess we’re both sorry.” He’ll never know that you cried all the way to the office that morning at having to leave him, you decide right now. It would only make him feel even more guilty and he doesn’t deserve that. “But I’m not sorry about what happened between us.”

“You aren’t?” He tightens his grip on your hand, relaxing slowly as you talk and he understands that this was one giant cluster fuck. He’s used to those, he can handle those. “That’s good, sugar. Because New Years was probably the best night of my life.”

“God, I hope you mean that.” Your shakiness is for more than one reason, although you needed to have this conversation first. Whatever the two of you decide will happen next is a decision made by both of you, not just you alone. “Because…Ginger couldn’t clear me…after my physical. I can’t go back on the list.”

Jack frowns, brows pulling together. “Why can’t Ginger clear you? What’s wrong?” There’s a number of things that can be fixed by Statesman tech and he’s worried that it’s something bad.

Your stomach churns with worry, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. The unmistakable advances of Statesman tech can do things that most doctors absolutely cannot, thanks to Ginger Ale, and you’re not sure whether to thank her or curse her. “It’s not that something’s wrong, technically,” you admit, giving another worried squeeze to his hand. “But we probably ought to have used that condom…”

Jack’s eyes widen and they drop to your stomach, discerning the meaning of your comment. You aren’t a liar and Jack would believe you if you said you didn’t sleep with someone else, but he’s confused. “Sugar- how?” He chokes out. “I got snipped when I joined Statesman.”

“When was the last time you had your sperm count checked?” You had made Ginger do the test three times, but the result was always the same. Your birth control failed and Jack’s second kid is already growing, if very slowly. “The chances of a vasectomy failing are less than one percent, but it can still happen.”

Jack frowns and then rolls his eyes and groans. “The chamber.” He remembers. “When I got shot and then- uh, put back together.” He shakes his head. “Ging said I might need to get it checked but I dadgum forgot.” He bites his lip and tries not to freak out over the fact that you are pregnant after your one and only time together. “What do you want, sugar?” He asks.

“Not more than you’re willing to give freely.” The answer is that you want all of him. Every single bit. Love and a life and a family. But you know that even if Jack does love you, he’s never loved anyone the way he loved his wife. And losing Maria nearly destroyed him, so he may not be willing to take that chance again. “But I…unless you really object…I’m keeping the baby. Even if you don’t want a commitment or anything. I just…you’re right about me. I want a family and if this is my only chance I don’t want to give that up. Especially not if I get even the littlest piece of you with it.”

“You think I would-“ he shakes his head. “No, I would never force you, one way or the other.” He frowns. “I was asking if you wanted to have a baby. And if you think I’m gonna sit back and let you raise it by yourself, you must have hit your dadgum head.”

“I want this baby.” It had only taken about ten seconds after learning it existed to determine that, even if you’re still grappling with the reality of it. “And I want you.” You inch closer to him on the couch. “However you want to be together. That part is up to you.”

“It’s been a long damn time since I’ve thought about being a daddy, sugar.” There’s a slight smirk on his face but he doesn’t make the obvious crude joke. “But I’m pretty traditional when you break it down. I’m not gonna want to be apart from you and our baby.”

He might not have made the joke but you still laugh, having made the sugar daddy connection in your mind easily enough. “I know it’s a lot, Jack. And we didn’t plan it. But…” All you can do is shrug your shoulders slightly, looking up at him with such obvious hope and even more obvious water behind your eyes. “But, I love you.”

“I meant it, baby girl.” He promises you, reaching out to caress your cheek and then cup it. “I love you. I love you so much, sugar.” Licking his lips, his eyes drop down to yours. “Can I kiss you?”

"I wish you would." practically beaming at him, you lean in and let the moment wash over you. Jack's lips against yours. His hands on your skin. His baby - your baby - is already starting to grow.

Jack pulls you close, pressing his lips against yours and groaning softly. “Sugar, you’re gonna have my baby.” He whispers against your lips in awe. “Just the one time, one time between your thighs and you are carrying my baby.”

“One time is all it takes.” You can’t help the broad way you smile, giggling softly against his lips as you steal another kiss.

“I don’t regret it.” He promises. “I don’t regret you.” He smiles as he kisses you again. “We really did shake things up for New Years, didn’t we?”

“Just a little bit.” Another laugh escapes you, and you lean into his side only to be rewarded with Jack’s arms encircling you and holding you close. “I don’t regret any of it. Except maybe not making my message a whole lot clearer.”

“We’ll get better at communicatin’.” Jack promises with a smile. “We’re partners now.”

“Do you want to go get dinner, maybe?” The end of a mission can be crazy even when it’s successful, and you just want to try to relax tonight. Especially with everything changing in your personal life too, apparently. “My treat?”

Jack scoffs and shakes his head. “You ain’t paying, sugar.” He huffs. “Not while you’re with me. If you want dinner, we can go out, or I can take you home and throw some steaks on the grill.”

“I kind of want to celebrate,” you admit, feeling silly about it even though it’s the truth. “If that’s okay?”

“Then we’ll go out and celebrate.” Jack promises before he frowns at something you had said. “Why would you have thought I would never be interested in you?”

“Because…” It feels sillier than the celebration thing now that you know the truth. Silly and even a little pointless, but he asked so you’ll tell him. “Because you flirted with every woman in the world besides me. Which Ginger said is how she knew you were interested in me. But I didn’t believe her.”

“You know you’re wrong, don’t cha?” Jack asks you. “When you said that you get sent on assignments to be invisible? You’re sent on the assignments you are given because you get the job done. Champ knows that if he gives you a task, it will be done.”

“Whatever the reason is, he’ll have to do without me for about a year.” It isn’t worth having a debate over your lack of self esteem with him right now, and you especially don’t want to ruin the mood by crying anything other than happy tears, so you just redirect the conversation altogether. “This baby is my top priority.”

“Our top priority.” He corrects you. He’s nervous, terrified really, but there’s no one he’d rather have a happy accident with than you. “Our New Year’s baby.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Daniels x f!reader #Jack Daniels x plus size reader #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels #Kingsman Golden Circle #new years eve #new years fic #idiots in love #pining #the love is requited they're just dumb

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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The long, bloody lineage of private equity's looting

Tomorrow (June 3) at 1:30PM, I’m in Edinburgh for the Cymera Festival on a panel with Nina Allen and Ian McDonald.

Monday (June 5) at 7:15PM, I’m in London at the British Library with my novel Red Team Blues, hosted by Baroness Martha Lane Fox.

Fans of the Sopranos will remember the “bust out” as a mob tactic in which a business is taken over, loaded up with debt, and driven into the ground, wrecking the lives of the business’s workers, customers and suppliers. When the mafia does this, we call it a bust out; when Wall Street does it, we call it “private equity.”

It used to be that we rarely heard about private equity, but then, as national chains and iconic companies started to vanish, this mysterious financial arrangement popped up with increasing frequency. When a finance bro’s presentation on why Olive Garden needed to be re-orged when viral, there was a lot off snickering about the decline of a tacky business whose value prop was unlimited carbs. But the bro was working for Starboard Value, a hedge fund that specialized in buhying out and killing off companies, pocketing billions while destroying profitable businesses.

https://www.salon.com/2014/09/17/the_real_olive_garden_scandal_why_greedy_hedge_funders_suddenly_care_so_much_about_breadsticks/

Starboard Value’s game was straightforward: buy a business, load it with debt, sell off its physical plant — the buildings it did business out of — pay itself, and then have the business lease back the buildings, bleeding out money until it collapsed. They pulled it with Red Lobster,and the point of the viral Olive Garden dis track was to soften up the company for its own bust out.

The bust out tactic wasn’t limited to mocking middlebrow family restaurants. For years, the crooks who ran these ops did a brisk trade in blaming the internet. Why did Sears tank? Everyone knows that the 19th century business was an antique, incapable of mounting a challenge in the age of e-commerce. That was a great smokescreen for an old-fashioned bust out that saw corporate looters make off with hundreds of millions, leaving behind empty storefronts and emptier pension accounts for the workers who built the wealth the looters stole:

https://prospect.org/economy/vulture-capitalism-killed-sears/

Same goes for Toys R Us: it wasn’t Amazon that killed the iconic toy retailer — it was the PE bosses who extracted $200m from the chain, then walked away, hands in pockets and whistling, while the businesses collapsed and the workers got zero severance:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/business/wp/2018/06/01/how-can-they-walk-away-with-millions-and-leave-workers-with-zero-toys-r-us-workers-say-they-deserve-severance/

It’s a good racket — for the racketeers. Private equity has grown from a finance sideshow to Wall Street’s apex predator, and it’s devouring the real economy through a string of audactious bust outs, each more consequential and depraved than the last.

As PE shows that it can turn profitable businesses gigantic windfalls, sticking the rest of us with the job of sorting out the smoking craters they leave behind, more and more investors are piling in. Today, the PE sector loves a rollup, which is when they buy several related businesses and merge them into one firm. The nominal business-case for a rollup is that the new, bigger firm is more “efficient.” In reality, a rollup’s strength is in eliminating competition. When all the pet groomers, or funeral homes, or urgent care clinics for ten miles share the same owner, they can raise prices, lower wages, and fuck over suppliers.

They can also borrow. A quirk of the credit markets is that a standalone small business is valued at about 3–5x its annual revenues. But if that business is part of a large firm, it is valued at 10–20x annual turnover. That means that when a private equity company rolls up a comedy club, ad agency or water bottler (all businesses presently experiencing PE rollup), with $1m in annual revenues, it shows up on the PE company’s balance sheet as an asset worth $10–20m. That’s $10–20m worth of collateral the PE fund can stake for loans that let it buy and roll up more small businesses.

2.9 million Boomer-owned businesses, employing 32m people, are expected to sell in the next couple years as their owners retire. Most of these businesses will sell to PE firms, who can afford to pay more for them as a prelude to a bust out than anyone intending to operate them as a productive business could ever pay:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/16/schumpeterian-terrorism/#deliberately-broken

PE’s most ghastly impact is felt in the health care sector. Whole towns’ worth of emergency rooms, family practices, labs and other health firms have been scooped up by PE, which has spent more than $1t since 2012 on health acquisitions:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/17/the-doctor-will-fleece-you-now/#pe-in-full-effect

Once a health care company is owned by PE, it is significantly more likely to commit medicare fraud. It also cuts wages and staffing for doctors and nurses. PE-owned facilities do more unnecessary and often dangerous procedures. Appointments get shorter. The companies get embroiled in kickback scandals. PE-backed dentists hack away at children’s mouths, filling them full of root-canals.

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/17/the-doctor-will-fleece-you-now/#pe-in-full-effect

The Healthcare Private Equity Association boasts that its members are poised to spend more than $3t to create “the future of healthcare.”

https://hcpea.org/#!event-list

As bad as PE is for healthcare, it’s worse for long-term care. PE-owned nursing homes are charnel houses, and there’s a particularly nasty PE scam where elderly patients are tricked into signing up for palliative care, which is never delivered (and isn’t needed, because the patients aren’t dying!). These fake “hospices” get huge payouts from medicare — and the patient is made permanently ineligible for future medicare, because they are recorded being in their final decline:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/26/death-panels/#what-the-heck-is-going-on-with-CMS

Every part of the health care sector is being busted out by PE. Another ugly PE trick, the “club deal,” is devouring the medical supply business. Club deals were huge in the 2000s, destroying rent-controlled housing, energy companies, Mervyn’s department stores, Harrah’s, and Old Country Joe. Now it’s doing the same to medical supplies:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/14/billionaire-class-solidarity/#club-deals

Private equity is behind the mass rollup of single-family homes across America. Wall Street landlords are the worst landlords in America, who load up your rent with junk fees, leave your home in a state of dangerous disrepair, and evict you at the drop of a hat:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/16/die-miete-ist-zu-hoch/#assets-v-human-rights

As these houses decay through neglect, private equity makes a bundle from tenants and even more borrowing against the houses. In a few short years, much of America’s desperately undersupplied housing stock will be beyond repair. It’s a bust out.

You know all those exploding trains filled with dangerous chemicals that poison entire towns? Private equity bust outs:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/04/up-your-nose/#rail-barons

Where did PE come from? How can these people look themselves in the mirror? Why do we let them get away with it? How do we stop them?

Today in The American Prospect, Maureen Tkacik reviews two new books that try to answer all four of these questions, but really only manage to answer the first three:

https://prospect.org/culture/books/2023-06-02-days-of-plunder-morgenson-rosner-ballou-review/

The first of these books is These Are the Plunderers: How Private Equity Runs — and Wrecks — America by Gretchen Morgenson and Joshua Rosner:

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/These-Are-the-Plunderers/Gretchen-Morgenson/9781982191283

The second is Plunder: Private Equity’s Plan to Pillage America, by Brendan Ballou:

https://www.hachettebookgroup.com/titles/brendan-ballou/plunder/9781541702103/

Both books describe the bust out from the inside. For example, PetSmart — looted for $30 billion by RaymondSvider and his PE fund BC Partners — is a slaughterhouse for animals. The company systematically neglects animals — failing to pay workers to come in and feed them, say, or refusing to provide backup power to run during power outages, letting animals freeze or roast to death. Though PetSmart has its own vet clinics, the company doesn’t want to pay its vets to nurse the animals it damages, so it denies them care. But the company is also too cheap to euthanize those animals, so it lets them starve to death. PetSmart is also too cheap to cremate the animals, so its traumatized staff are ordered to smuggle the dead, rotting animals into random dumpsters.

All this happened while PetSmart’s sales increased by 60%, matched by growth in the company’s gross margins. All that money went to the bust out.

https://www.forbes.com/sites/antoinegara/2021/09/27/the-30-billion-kitty-meet-the-investor-who-made-a-fortune-on-pet-food/

Tkacik says these books show that we’re finally getting wise to PE. Back in the Clinton years, the PE critique painted the perps as sharp operators who reduced quality and jacked up prices. Today, books like these paint these “investors” as the monsters they are — crooks whose bust ups are crimes, not clever finance hacks.

Take the Carlyle Group, which pioneered nursing home rollups. As Carlyle slashed wages, its workers suffered — but its elderly patients suffered more. Thousands of Carlyle “customers” died of “dehydration, gangrenous bedsores, and preventable falls” in the pre-covid years.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/economy/opioid-overdoses-bedsores-and-broken-bones-what-happened-when-a-private-equity-firm-sought-profits-in-caring-for-societys-most-vulnerable/2018/11/25/09089a4a-ed14-11e8-baac-2a674e91502b_story.html

KKR, another PE monster, bought a second-hand chain of homes for mentally disabled adults from another PE company, then squeezed it for the last drops of blood left in the corpse. KKR cut wages to $8/hour and increased shifts to 36 hours, then threatened to have workers who went home early arrested and charged with “patient abandonment.” Many of these homes were often left with no staff at all, with patients left to starve and stew in their own waste.

PE loves to pick on people who can’t fight back: kids, sick people, disabled people, old people. No surprise, then, that PE loves prisons — the ultimate captive audience. HIG Capital is a $55b fund that owns TKC Holdings, who got the contract to feed the prisoners at 400 institutions. They got the contract after the prisons fired Aramark, owned by PE giant Warburg Pincus, whose food was so inedible that it provoked riots. TKC got a million bucks extra to take over the food at Michigan’s Kinross Correctional Facility, then, incredibly, made the food worse. A chef who refused to serve 100 bags of rotten potatoes (“the most disgusting thing I’ve seen in my life”) was fired:

https://www.wzzm13.com/article/news/local/michigan/prison-food-worker-i-was-fired-for-refusing-to-serve-rotten-potatoes/69-467297770

TKC doesn’t just operate prison kitchens — it operates prison commissaries, where it gouges prisoners on junk food to replace the inedible slop it serves in the cafeteria. The prisoners buy this food with money they make working in the prison workshops, for $0.10–0.25/hour. Those workshops are also run by TKC.

Tkacic traces private equity back to the “corporate raiders” of the 1950s and 1960s, who “stealthily borrowed money to buy up enough shares in a small or midsized company to control its biggest bloc of votes, then force a stock swap and install himself as CEO.”

The most famous of these raiders was Eli Black, who took over United Fruit with this gambit — a company that had a long association with the CIA, who had obligingly toppled democratically elected governments and installed dictators friendly to United’s interests (this is where the term “banana republic” comes from).

Eli Black’s son is Leon Black, a notorious PE predator. Leon Black got his start working for the junk-bonds kingpin Michael Milken, optimizing Milken’s operation, which was the most terrifying bust out machine of its day, buying, debt-loading and wrecking a string of beloved American businesses. Milken bought 2,000 companies and put 200 of them through bankruptcy, leaving the survivors in a brittle, weakened state.

It got so bad that the Business Roundtable complained about the practice to Congress, calling Milken, Black, et al, “a small group is systematically extracting the equity from corporations and replacing it with debt, and incidentally accumulating major wealth.”

Black stabbed Milken in the back and tanked his business, then set out on his own. Among the businesses he destroyed was Samsonite, “a bankrupt-but-healthy company he subjected to 12 humiliating years of repeated fee extractions, debt-funded dividend payments, brutal plant closings, and hideous schemes to induce employees to buy its worthless stock.”

The money to buy Samsonite — and many other businesses — came through a shadowy deal between Black and John Garamendi, then a California insurance commissioner, now a California congressman. Garamendi helped Black buy a $6b portfolio of junk bonds from an insurance company in a wildly shady deal. Garamendi wrote down the bonds by $3.9b, stealing money “from innocent people who needed the money to pay for loved ones’ funerals, irreparable injuries, etc.”

Black ended up getting all kinds of favors from powerful politicians — including former Connecticut governor John Rowland and Donald Trump. He also wired $188m to Jeffrey Epstein for reasons that remain opaque.

Black’s shady deals are a marked contrast with the exalted political circles he travels in. Despite private equity’s obviously shady conduct, it is the preferred partner for cities and states, who buy everything from ambulance services to infrastructure from PE-owned companies, with disastrous results. Federal agencies turn a blind eye to their ripoffs, or even abet them. 38 state houses passed legislation immunizing nursing homes from liability during the start of the covid crisis.

PE barons are shameless about presenting themselves as upstanding cits, unfairly maligned. When Obama made an empty promise to tax billionaires in 2010, Blackstone founder SteveS chwarzman declared, “It’s a war. It’s like when Hitler invaded Poland in 1939.”

Since we’re on the subject of Hitler, this is a good spot to bring up Monowitz, a private-sector satellite of Auschwitz operated by IG Farben as a slave labor camp to make rubber and other materiel it supplied at a substantial markup to the wermacht. I’d never heard of Monowitz, but Tkacik’s description of the camp is chilling, even in comparison to Auschwitz itself.

Farben used slave laborers from Auschwitz to work at its rubber plant, but was frustrated by the logistics of moving those slaves down the 4.5m stretch of road to the facility. So the company bought 25,000 slaves — preferring children, who were cheaper — and installed them in a co-located death-camp called Monowitz:

https://www.commentary.org/articles/r-tannenbaum/the-devils-chemists-by-josiah-e-dubois-jr/

Monowitz was — incredibly — worse than Auschwitz. It was so bad, the SS guards who worked at it complained to Berlin about the conditions. The SS demanded more hospitals for the workers who dropped from beatings and overwork — Farben refused, citing the cost. The factory never produced a steady supply of rubber, but thanks to its gouging and the brutal treatment of its slaves, the camp was still profitable and returned large dividends to Farben’s investors.

Apologists for slavery sometimes claim that slavers are at least incentivized to maintain the health of their captive workforce. This was definitely not true of Farben. Monowitz slaves died on average after three months in the camp. And Farben’s subsidiary, Degesch, made the special Zyklon B formulation used in Auschwitz’s gas chambers.

Tkacik’s point is that the Nazis killed for ideology and were unimaginably cruel. Farben killed for money — and they were even worse. The banality of evil gets even more banal when it’s done in service to maximizing shareholder value.

As Farben historian Joseph Borkin wrote, the company “reduced slave labor to a consumable raw material, a human ore from which the mineral of life was systematically extracted”:

https://www.scribd.com/document/517797736/The-Crime-and-Punishment-of-I-G-Farben

Farben’s connection to the Nazis was a the subject of Germany’s Master Plan: The Story of Industrial Offensive, a 1943 bestseller by Borkin, who was also an antitrust lawyer. It described how Farben had manipulated global commodities markets in order to create shortages that “guaranteed Hitler’s early victories.”

Master Plan became a rallying point in the movement to shatter corporate power. But large US firms like Dow Chemical and Standard Oil waged war on the book, demanding that it be retracted. Borkin was forced into resignation and obscurity in 1945.

Meanwhile, in Nuremberg, 24 Farben executives were tried for their war crimes, and they cited their obligations to their shareholders in their defense. All but five were acquitted on this basis.

Seen in that light, the plunderers of today’s PE firms are part of a long and dishonorable tradition, one that puts profit ahead of every other priority or consideration. It’s a defense that wowed the judges at Nuremberg, so should we be surprised that it still plays in 2023?

Tkacik is frustrated that neither of these books have much to offer by way of solutions, but she understands why that would be. After all, if we can’t even close the carried interest tax loophole, how can we hope to do anything meaningful?

“Carried interest” comes up in every election cycle. Most of us assume it has something to do with “interest payments,” but that’s not true. The carried interest loophole relates to the “interest” that 16th-century sea captains had in their cargo. It’s a 600-year-old tax loophole that private equity bosses use to pay little or no tax on their billions. The fact that it’s still on the books tells you everything you need to know about whether our political class wants to do anything about PE’s plundering.

Notwithstanding Tkacik’s (entirely justified) skepticism of the weaksauce remedies proposed in these books, there is some hope of meaningful action. Private equity’s rollups are only possible because they skate under the $101m threshold for merger scrutiny. However, there is good — but unenforced — law that allows antitrust enforcers to block these mergers. This is the “incipiency standard” — Sec 7 of the Clayton Act — the idea that a relatively small merger might not be big enough to trigger enforcement action on its own, but regulators can still act to block it if it creates an incipient monopoly.

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/16/schumpeterian-terrorism/#deliberately-broken

The US has a new crop of aggressive — fearless — top antitrust enforcers and they’ve been systematically reviving these old laws to go after monopolies.

That’s long overdue. Markets are machines for eroding our moral values: “In comparison to non-market decisions, moral standards are significantly lower if people participate in markets.”

https://web.archive.org/web/20130607154129/https://www.uni-bonn.de/Press-releases/markets-erode-moral-values

The crimes that monsters commit in the name of ideology pale in comparison to the crimes the wealthy commit for money.

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Edinburgh, London, and Berlin!

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/02/plunderers/#farbenizers

[Image ID: An overgrown graveyard, rendered in silver nitrate monochrome. A green-tinted businessman with a moneybag in place of a head looms up from behind a gravestone. The right side of the image is spattered in blood.]

1K notes · View notes

txttletale · 1 year

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My question about growth/the venture capitalist mindset is like … how have venture capitalists and the like not figured this out already? It’s been a decade, give or take a few years, since the internet started being monetized to hell and back, and if we all know they’re not really making a profit (bc no one clicks on ads, obviously) then why are the structures still in place?im looking at all this and I feel like a dunce bc I just don’t get how ppl can keep ofunelling money into something that we all know doesn’t work lol ! :0

there's a couple reasons for this, but the tldr of it is that if you're wile e. coyote and you're running in the air over the edge of a cliff, it's in your material interests not to look down

let's say you're a venture capitalist and you've put $10 million into hypnospace, the hot new social media site. when you invest into a company, you invest at a certain price--the company has an idea of how much it's worth, and that determines what price they'll sell their shares at. let's say you buy at $10 a share, so you have a million shares in hypnospace. that $10-a-share-valuation was based on hypnospace telling you (in, say, 2012, when this was still believable and even seemed self-evident) that becuse they were seeing huge growth in daily active users, they'd eventually become insanely profitable.

now usually even you, a venture capitalist, a lifeform mostly resembling a parasitic flatworm, might be a little cautious about this investment. will they really become profitable? it seems risky. however because it's 2012, the US federal reserve has been giving out loans at their ZIRP (zero interest rate policy) for four years in a response to the 2008 financial crisis. what that means is that it's incredibly cheap for banks to borrow money, which in turn means it's incredibly cheap for you, a venture capitalist, to borrow that money from banks. when money is cheap, risky investments make a lot of sense--when you can get an extremely low-interest-rate loan, throwing that money down the toilet is unfortunate but no longer catastrophic. so you put your $10 million into hypnospace because the risk is artificially lowered by the ZIRP, making it well worth the reward.

now it's five years later and it's 2017 and it's becoming increasingly clear that hypnospace.horse is probably not going to became the new facebook and that perhaps there will in fact only be one facebook. bummer. but you've still got a million shares in it. this means that you're directly invested--not in the company becoming profitable, but in the valuation of that company going up. if people can be convinced to buy hypnospace shares at $12-a-share, you can make off with a cool $2 million even though the website never did anything useful or made any money. on the other hand, if people start thinking 'hey, this website has never made any money and it's obviously never going to, why would we buy shares in it'--shares plummet to $1 a share, and you're out $9 million! worst case scenario!

so even if you, the venture capitalist, realize that the website's a boondoggle, it's in your best interest to convince everyone around you that no, it really will become profitable, and its shares (that you hold some of!) are really valuable and you should want to buy them. and this doesn't just mean lying to other venture capitalists (although they love doing this)--capitalists pay close attention to sales of stocks. if you realize that hypnospace is never going to make money and decide to cut your losses and abruptly offload all million shares, other capitalists will interpret that for what it means--that you've totally lost confidence in seeing return on your investment--and many of them will panic and also start selling their shares, while capitalists with no hypnospace shares will think 'boy, this hypnospace thing seems like a real wash, i don't want to buy shares in that'.

so what do you do? you keep putting money in. if the company's increasing in valuation the more it grows, then even if you're crystal-clear aware that growth has no path to profitability, you still gain wealth for every month that the business stays afloat by burning money, because the valuation goes up and your shares are worth more. the ideal outcome for a venture capitalist investing into a tech company is to make a big investment, let the company bleed money while it grows for several years, then sell--not all at once, not abruptly, and not while the price is in stagnation or decline. it's one big game of hot potato for when the gig is finally up. not every venture capitalist has to be a totally credulous dipshit--just the last one in the line.

#ask #now a lot of the calculus on this has changed with interest rates on the rise again #but this explains basically the last decade of the tech sector

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kaiser-author-san-iii · 1 year

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Star Light, Star Bright | Fatui Harbingers x (Fem)Creator!Reader

A/N: holy Tsarista, I did not think that it would be this popular. Thank you so much!! It's been a couple months since I got into Genshin, but I'm glad that the Harbinger trailer dropped cause otherwise, this probably wouldn't have existed lol. I apologize for the late update. I have been quite stumped in the plot and just taking a moment to come up with one. If I didn't tag everyone, I'm sorry! DM or reply to be added to the taglist! :3

Summary: Caring for children is hard, but it's especially hard when around the Fatui. Getting isekaied was the last thing on your mind after landing in the icy tundra of Snezhnaya all while your nephew is with you. What will happen when you encounter not only a Fatui Skirmisher but a Fatui Harbinger?

Tags/warnings: female reader, God!reader, Cult AU,

Not edited or beta read, we die like Signora.

First>> Next>>

Masterlist>>

Chapter 2: The Creator's Welcome

Silence.

What could be said while the entire palace and the surrounding area waited with bated breath for their Grace to awaken?

They were fervent - they waited to leave and search for the "meaner" that has done harm to their Beloved but that would leave their Previous Grace with only the Heir for company and guard.

The Precious Heir - they have heard of them only from what was written centuries ago. He was beautiful - he was innocent and was crying for their Grace to wake up all while the Harbingers stood by with the Tsarista finally making her appearance, rushing towards the bed that their Grace rested in, bending the knee and holding their hand.

"Your Grace. Your Excellency. Oh, my Beloved Creator. What has that Meaner done to you?"

Nugget never left your side as he clutched onto your waist, but being careful with your arms as he was told by the blue-haired man with the mask. He was a doctor and clearly knew what he was talking about so the little one made sure to listen well. The Doctor man and the others gave them a room which is what his Auntie expected and though he was focused more on taking care of you, it was nice to wander around the room all while the Harbin Gingers (It was some word that he had trouble saying) always came to check on him and his auntie and even gave him coloring books and sweets and fruits. It was all so good and he made sure to save you some whenever you were going to wake up.

But he especially loved the Tsarista and Columbia (Colombina)

They were very nice. They held him when you were still asleep and he couldn't be there for the operation.

For what seemed like forever, when it was only a matter of four days, the bed shifted as Nugget was reading the latest book that the guy with the funny hat gave him. He wanted to read it to you when you woke up and his wish was soon coming true as he felt movement and looked over to see your [E/c] eyes. He gasped and immediately snuggled into the sheets and wrapped his small arms around your waist.

"Auntie! You're awake! You're awake!"

Soft wet globs of tears started to stain your shirt as you looked down at the child who held you tightly and didn't want to let go. It would have been endearing if it wasn't for the fact that you had almost died from possible blood poisoning from ignoring your wounds. Your Nephew remembered seeing a lot of gold and despite still learning, he knew for a fact blood was red.

Carefully holding him up and ruffling his hair, you kissed his forehead and wiped his tears away.

"I'm sorry I made you worry, Nugget. I promise, I'll be sure to look after myself but my main concern was you."

That response earned a pout but your nephew thought it was good enough for now. If you weren't healthy and in one piece, how are you supposed to find a husband or a wife?!

"Just don't go to sleep anymore or at least for a long time. You made everyone worry!"

"Everyone?"

At the mention, your Nephew saw the clear confusion on your face and smiled brightly, but with a glint of mischievousness as he swiftly, with his small feet could go, hopped out of bed but careful to stay clear from your arms, rushed to the door and yelled out.

"Auntie [Y/n] is awake!" he said with a bright smile that was quite contagious, but it was last minute that you saw a figure by the door, or make it two figures. They had hoods over their head but it was the masks that covered their identities - the sheer happiness was clear from their body movements and one of them rushed out to who knows where while your nephew ran back to your side and started to share all the books he's read while you were recovering.

He's always had trouble reading so it was a feat itself to see him now reading at his supposed grade level. He still had trouble with certain words but nothing to worry about.

While trying to process all that was happening around you, you heard multiple footsteps before the door flew open, and in walked in about a dozen people.

Your face heated up at seeing all the gorgeous faces quickly surround you, pulling your nephew close to your side, weary of what else could happen. But you could have sworn that there was a hint of sadness in their eyes from your pull away from them.

"Don't be scared. They helped us! They helped you! Especially the Doctor man." Your nephew grinned as he held your hand and decided to make you sit up and face the group properly and pointed at the Doctor. The Doctor that he mentioned was practically preening from the praise like a peacock showing off its feathers.

The grip on his hand lessened as you looked at all twelve people one by one. It didn't take a rocket scientist to distinguish the power that they all radiated. Though at the time, you didn't know of the power you held yourself.

The elegant lady with long white hair, icy blue eyes, and who seemed to scream 'Ice Queen', slowly walked up to your bedside with a gentle smile as her hand moved to slowly hold yours. Now, you wouldn't have minded if it was your nephew or family, but this was a stranger. A stranger with a very firm grip despite how delicate it was.

"Now. How shall we punish the meaner that's done this to you?"

Eh?

-x-

It was... a change to have people cater to your every whim despite half of them being just jokes like bringing you the finest gem. The honor of bestowing such a gem was by none other than the 9th Harbinger, Pantalone.

Your nephew was having a great time, especially when he got to get along with a majority of the Harbingers and the Fatui, who took the mission of entertaining Nugget very seriously.

Once your arms were good as new, you asked for the group of Fatui soldiers that you and your nephew first encountered. At first, they were adamant about having you and Nugget leave the palace but you needed to get back to your car and get the rest of your things.

But funnily enough, you don't remember a palace or an organization going by the Fatui in your life...

Not to mention, these people seemed to recognize you and your nephew despite you two not knowing any of them.

If you thought of it more, a headache occurred and the Tsarista was adamant in asking you to save your energy and that it didn't matter if you recognized them. That all that mattered was that you and the Heir were fine.

While bedridden, your Nephew had the privilege to waltz around like he owned the place and even got you some books to read in the meantime. You saw mentions of a Divine Creator, a God-like figure that was first in creating the world around you and beyond, the one that made the stars and skies. A Divine Creator from the Beyond gave life to a speck in the skies and named it Teyvat and thus, its first child was born.

During a certain period when the Creator was roaming freely, they announced that their sister was with child and so, the Creator named the unborn babe the Heir to Teyvat.

The book was quite the read and wanting to know more about why the people around you and Nugget called you the Divine Creator and the Heir, you took it around with you.

"Your Grace, you must bundle up. Snezhnayan winters are quite brutal. People freeze to death here, quite literally in fact." announced a Fatui sniper, the one that first saw you and Nugget as he came behind you and placed a coat, courtesy of Pantalone of course, on your shoulders and your nephew too.

Stepping out to the brutal snow, instead of the harsh snow that you were expecting, it was a light snowfall that shocked the group of Fatui that decided to travel with you.

[Nephew's Name] stepped out from behind you and cheered happily as he rushed out to the snow and started to play, making snowmen and snow angels with, of course, the Fatui looking out and being won over by the child's heart-felt giggles.

They were all trying to make sense of why the snowfall was reduced to just light snow instead of the blizzards they're used to until they recalled that their Divine Grace and the Heir were right here with them. Teyvat was the Divine Creator's first child and as the loyal child it was, it could always sense where they were. Though Snezhnaya was the domain of the Tsarista, the Cryo Archon, the Divine Creator's word was Law.

Ehe.

Everything came to a slow stop as the world first heard the giggle from the Creator and with each step that you had taken, noticeable patches of green started to appear and grow more and more. The chilled winds of winter called down as the grey skies parted to make way for the rays of the sun.

The Tsarista felt the pause of winter, looking out that the frozen lands of her region have warmed up to what it had been long ago before her ascension.

Her Grace has given warmth back to the frozen tundras of Snezhnaya to the point that the flora and fauna basked in the sunlight. "Nugget. Be careful. The snow is melting."

And like that, the snow stopped melting just enough for your nephew to enjoy making snow angels.

'Welcome to Teyvat, Divine Creator!'

TAGLIST:

@lizzhearthz, @yoshikuno , @anonclyde , @khalhaimdad, @ellenoir

@yunsblog030 , @lsleepysimpl, @potol0ver, @kitty-chan33

#genshin self aware #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #Harbingers x reader #Fatui harbingers #genshin cult au #sagau #Dottore x reader #Pantalone x reader #Scaramouche x reader #Childe x reader #Capitano x reader #Coloumbina x reader #Sandrone x reader #Pierro x reader #female reader #Signora x reader

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lizardaggro · 7 months

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on the flip side (twst bully!au) part 2

the first part is doing way better than i thought it would, so here's part 2! please note that i won't normally put stuff out this fast, but i got woken up by tumblr notifs and only got 2.5 hrs of sleep. if this is trash, that's my excuse. also working on something for bnha, but that sucker's looong.

part 1 part 3

genre: gn reader, angst trigger warnings: bullying, lil bit of yandere word count: 1082

The look on their faces was hilarious, to say the least. Adeuce were in shock, and Floyd looked like a kicked puppy. Not that you made a habit of that. It was a shame that you couldn’t hole up in here a little while longer, and you knew the door would take ages to get repaired, but it would be fine. The sudden shift in your attitude would still be jarring.

“Wha- prefect, what’re you talking about?” Ace asked incredulously. Deuce nodded vigorously in agreement. The two had been your first friends in Twisted Wonderland, after Grim of course, and then the first to turn on you once they got bored. You supposed it was just too much for their pea brains to bear.

“Did I stutter?” Your gaze was cold as you looked both in the eye in turn. “Every day, the poor defenseless prefect is beaten, abused, and scorned. And all for what? Your entertainment? You lot are sick in the head and it shows,” you berated them mercilessly. It’s not like you expected them to have a sudden change of heart. You wouldn’t forgive them even if they did.

Floyd had been silent since demolishing your poor door, which could be good or bad. You’d always found him hard to read. His mood could change at the drop of a hat, and you knew you weren’t his only victim. For all you knew, he’d start whaling on Adeuce instead.

And then he just had to go and open his mouth. “Aww, that’s cute, Shrimpy. You think you can get rid of me?” He taunted. Now that was a threat, and you knew it. Still, you never thought any of your former friends would describe anything you did as cute now. It was meant to be mocking, but still. Something about his demeanor was off. He seemed almost… hurt.

Nah, there was no way. You must be imagining things. There was no way Floyd Leech, of all people, enjoyed your company. You were alone here; Grim and the ghosts were your only allies. You shook your head to clear away the unwanted thoughts.

You turned to face Floyd, a sinister grin working its way onto your face. “Oh, whyever would I want to do that? I can do so much better, after all. I mean, who’s the one who told me all their dirty little secrets they’d never want to see the light of day, back when we were friends? Because of course the innocent little prefect would never dream of snitching!”

You weren’t bluffing. You didn’t have to. It was true, after all. Each and every one of them had confided in you to some extent, the Overblot victims most of all. You knew e~verything that ailed them, and it would be oh-so unfortunate if their less-than-kind peers were to find out. It wasn’t like you wanted to play the villain card, but you felt you had the right. They’d already betrayed you, so why shouldn’t you return the favor?

The three boys’ faces visibly paled after hearing your words. Everyone had something to hide after all, and they were no exception. Deuce had been one of the first to trust you with his secrets, as well as one of the most forthcoming. Back then you’d thought he was such a sweetheart; you never would’ve dreamed it’d come to this.

“Come on, surely you don’t mean that?” He begged. It was pitiful, really.

“Oh, I absolutely mean it if you don’t leave me the fuck alone.” No one at Night Raven College had ever heard you curse before, so it must’ve been a shock. Your voice was cold as you crushed their hope. No one had ever listened to you when you pleaded for them to please stop hurting you.

Once convinced that you really meant business, they promptly turned tail and fled. You didn’t blame them. You’d be embarrassed too if you still slept with a teddy bear. But this was good- great, even. Now you had the chance to put the next phase of your plan in action.

You’d start off simple, with a warning, in case someone didn’t think you were serious enough. You logged onto the school’s messaging forum, and anonymously exposed some poor random guy whose name you’d forgotten’s crush. Who also attended NRC, of course. It wouldn’t be much of a threat if no one knew who they were.

Not long after, there was a rapt knock on your door, or rather the adjacent wall. Thanks, Floyd. When you headed downstairs to greet your unwanted guest, you were mildly surprised to see Riddle Rosehearts, there in all his glory.

“Riddle? What brings you here? Are you going to blame me for not knowing the history of countries I’d never heard of until this year again?” You jabbed. Riddle was never one for physical violence; his Unique Magic didn’t work on you since you had none to begin with. Instead, he chose to belittle you for your lack of knowledge.

“I heard from Ace and Deuce that you’ve been airing students’ dirty laundry on the internet,” he said with a stern look. “I’m sure you’re well aware that this behavior is unacceptable.” Two could play at that game.

“Yes, Dorm Leader Rosehearts, and I’m sure you know full well that several of your students are guilty of assault,” you rebutted, using his position within the school for emphasis. “So tell me, do you really want to go there? After all, it’d be a real shame if your mother were to hear about this.”

You really hoped his mother never heard about this. Him being abused would only make you feel worse, and it certainly wouldn’t correct his behavior. The most you’d do was “accidentally” let the whole school find out he’s secretly a crybaby.

Riddle’s face grew as red as Unbirthday party roses. “You dare to threaten me?! I’d have your head if you had any magic worth sealing! But you don’t, so you’re lucky I even bother to tolerate your presence. I don’t even want to think about what your grades would look like if it wasn’t for my help.”

You really didn’t think shouting at you qualified as helping. But once again, there was that odd tone to his words, like he was implying that he wanted you around. There was no way Riddle of all people would agree to play some elaborate prank on you, so just what was going on?

#twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst bully au #ace trappola #deuce spade #floyd leech #riddle rosehearts

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sailoryooons · 8 months

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T R I C K O R T R E A T

presented by BTS Fantasy and Fangs

Celebrate this Hallows' Eve with legends told by our most esteemed ghouls. Enter worlds of the unknown and lose yourself in these tales. But beware: one might lose themselves in these hallowed stories.

Rating: Works range from SFW and NSFW. Each work will have its own set of warnings.

Note: This collaboration features works written as general works and works that were assigned via a Secret-Santa style within the BTS Fantasy & Fangs server in which writers did not know who was gifting them a work!

LEGENDS COMING THROUGHOUT OCTOBER.

T R I C K S

☾ Title: Devil Town

☾ Pairing: Platonic OT7 x reader

☾ Summary: You take a chance and spend a month in Devil Town: a quaint little place nestled deep in the woods of The Unknown, where the air is always a touch chilly, things are never quite what they seem, and no one will tell you anything.

☾ Genre/AU: Autumn?? A lil spooky, a lil whimsy, a lil mystery; not quite angst, not quite fluff

☾ Rating: PG

as told by @park-jimin-isnt-real

Read Now

☾ Title: Handmaidens

☾ Pairing: OT7 x reader

☾ Summary: When the murder of handmaidens begin in Joseon, you are assigned to serve the throne – the seven imperial princes, sons of Lord Sihyuk. Despite your loyalty, your suspicions begin to rise about the killings. Can you escape the palace before it’s too late?

☾ Genre/AU: Joseon Era thriller/slasher

☾ Rating: TBD

as told by @eserethriddle

☾ Title: Have Mercy

☾ Paring: Demon!Jimin x Reader | Alpha!Yoongi x Reader | Demon!Jimin x Alpha!Yoongi

☾ Summary: As a crossroads demon, Jimin is no stranger to vile creatures. Summoned once more, Jimin is surprised to find one of the purest souls asking for his help. Not only does he accept her deal, but while watching over her, Jimin finds himself falling for the very soul he is meant to devour. Eager to confess, Jimin summons the sweet soul only for his plan to turn sour when someone far more evil finds her alone.

☾ Genre/AU: Angst | Smut | Strangers to Lovers | Demon AU | A/B/O AU

☾ Rating: 21+ | Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

as told by @sweetestofchaos

Title: The One who Saved Us All

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Summary: It's the annual Halloween celebration in Seoul, where everyone from different walks of life get together and celebrate the history of the Vidyadhara. But when someone decides to cause some trouble, Seokjin's best-kept secret comes to life.

Genre/AU: Halloween, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Disaster?

Rating: Maybe M to MA 15+

as told by @quirkybtsarmy

☾ Title: Simply Meant to Be

☾ Pairing: pumpkin king!jungkook x fem reader

☾ Genre/AU: nightmare before Christmas au, romance, horror, smut

☾ Rating: m (18+)

☾ Summary: You aren’t sure how any of it can be real. This place…these creatures…this man.

You wake up next to a man you’ve never seen before with no memory of who he is or where you are.

But everyone in town seems to know you. You belong to the Pumpkin King. Scared and utterly terrified you run into someone who claims they can help you remember. And now you’re starting to wonder if that’s truly what you want.

as told by @caelesjjk

Read Now

T R E A T S

☾ Title: Blessed With A Curse

☾ Pairing: Werewolf!Jungkook x Hybrid!Reader

☾ Summary: When your company throws a mandatory Halloween party, you aren’t thrilled. You’re even less thrilled when a delusional coworker ruins the party and places a curse on everyone because her crush, the resident werewolf, Jeon Jungkook, rejected them. OR When a coworker gets rejected at the company Halloween party, things get crazy.

☾ Genre/AU: Smut, Werewolf AU, Hybrid AU, Modern Magic AU

☾ Rating: NC-17

as told by @sweetestofchaos for @jessikahathaway

Read Now

☾ Title: Bump In The Night

☾ Pairing: Bogeyman!Yoongi x f. reader

☾ Summary: The dark can be scary; full of strange, unseen things. Just when you think you’ve got a handle on your fear, the lights go out, and you face the reality that you were always right—you should fear the dark and especially what’s waiting in it.

☾ Genre/AU: Monster Under The Bed, Horror/Thriller, Angst, Smut

☾ Rating: MA

as told by @colormepurplex2 for @minisugakoobies

Read Now

☾ Title: Carmen

☾ Pairing: Vampire!Jimin x human!Taehyung

☾ Summary: Taehyung gets lured to an exclusive club by a strange, enchanting woman. What finds him there is much more intoxicating and dangerous.

☾ Genre/AU: Supernatural, Vampires, Smut

☾ Rating: Explicit/Mature

as told by @sailoryooons for @gimmethatagustd

Read Now

☾ Title: Fledgling

☾ Pairing: Jungkook x Namjoon

☾ Summary: Jungkook is tired of his dreary existence. So when a mysterious stranger offers him a way out of life as he knows it, he takes it without hesitation.

☾ Genre/AU: Vampire AU, horror, smut

☾ Rating: 21+ | Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

as told by @theharrowing for @sweetestofchaos

Read Now

☾ Title: Love As Soft As a Distant Star

☾ Pairing: Min Yoongi | Reader, Min Yoongi | Park Jimin

☾ Summary: You didn’t mean to fall in love with your husband and fellow Witches’ Councilmember Yoongi, but here you are: in love. (How gauche and not the thing. You’re co-workers, not lovers.) It’s particularly inconvenient since he is in love with someone else.

☾ Genre/AU: Witch AU, arranged marriage AU

☾ Rating: Explicit/Mature

as told by @vyduan for @colormepurplex2

Read Now

☾ Title: Lose Your Head

☾ Pairing: Park Jimin x F!Reader

☾ Summary: As a constable’s assistant you have several duties to him and the police force. Not only as his assistant, but as his dear friend. However, when an ominous summoning sends you and Jimin both to the town of Sleepy Hollow, you fear there might be more at play than either of you understand. And feelings that you’d hope to bury for life bubble to the surface...

☾ Genre/AU: Movie!AU, Thriller, SleepyHollow!AU, Smut, Romance. Rating: 21+

as told by @jessikahathaway for @/sailoryooons

Read Now

☾ Title: The Love Witch

☾ Pairing: witch!yoongi x demon!taehyung

☾ Summary: Despite being a popular romance blogger, Yoongi isn’t interested in finding love. He only summons a demon boyfriend to prove to his followers that it’s possible. He’ll send Taehyung right back to Hell once he’s done with him, obviously.

☾ Genre/AU: fantasy, strangers to lovers, fake dating (kinda), light angst, smut, fluff, humor

☾ Rating: 18+

as told by @gimmethatagustd for @theharrowing

Read Now

☾ Title: Passage

☾ Pairing: Captain!Yoongi x Dracula!Jimin

☾ Summary: For several years, Min Yoongi and the crew of the Magpie have sailed the perilous waters of the Pacific, surviving treacherous waves and other deadly threats in order to deliver goods to the West. Now, on his final voyage as captain, Yoongi is about to face a danger like none he’s ever seen before - and he may find it too tempting to resist.

☾ Genre/AU: horror, supernatural, angst, smut, Dracula!AU

☾ Rating: M(18+)

as told by @minisugakoobies for @vyduan

Read Now

Disclaimer: This is a collaboration put on for members of the BTS Fantasy and Fangs Server. These stories, characters, and festivals used here are not meant to represent any real or factual people, places, or things.

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rayslittlekitten · 9 months

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All Eyes On You

A/N: Okay, it's finally done. This did not go where I had initially imagined it but I mostly like how this came out. I think it's kinda different from what I've written in the past. I tried to make this PWP and Jax being savage but I always add softness to Jax. I can't help it. Also, I don't know how porn sets are so, yeah. Didn't want to focus too much on the logistics of all that. Also, clearly this is AU. Hope this doesn't disappoint.

Rating: E (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 3,597

Pairing: Pornstar!Jax x Pornstar!F!Reader

Plot: Getting railed by Jax Teller is only one of the perks of your job.

Contains: porn star/shooting porn, sex work, some D/s dynamics, sex (PiV), oral sex (F and M receiving), exhibitionism, voyeurism, degradation, humiliation, name-calling (slut, whore), light spanking, light choking, dirty talking, masturbation, praising (good girl), cream pie, a quick moment of edging if you squint, aftercare

"We need to find more honest ways of living."

Since Jax became President, he has wanted to steer the club away from the guns and other underground dealings. He was open to all ideas and for him, no idea was a bad idea until it’s been tried. When his business partner running the SAMCRO-funded and protected porn production company jokingly suggested for Jax to star in a few movies, he actually considered it. Getting paid to have sex? He's already doing it for free. Everyone's gotta earn their keep, right? Would it be too degrading? He's supposed to be the leader and he's leading his club into selling their bodies, maybe even their dignity. Not to mention the conflict of interest. Still, he brought it up to the table anyway and they voted on it. Surprisingly most voted yes, although mostly for pure amusement.

What started as a joke to them actually became one of their honest ways of earning. Well, at least for Jax. The others didn't have the balls to do it, but that didn’t stop them from reaping the benefits of tagging along with Jax whenever he had to go shoot some scenes. Money doesn't lie and when they saw their revenue continuously multiply shortly after his debut released, they knew they had a cash cow. Since then, Jax had dedicated a day each month to shooting his scenes. As long as he agrees with the script, he has no problem. Sometimes he'd even make suggestions. He gets producer credit for those as well.

His content is the most exclusive one they have so they strategically make less of it. Gotta keep teasing his fans. Besides, he actually enjoys the attention. If it was any possible, his ego has inflated to be bigger than his dick and that in itself says a lot. It was as if God himself designed him to be a porn star. It was so effortless for him.

Their business has expanded so they their talent pool did as well and let's just say there is no shortage of women - and men - wanting a chance at fucking Jax Teller. You're just happy that you're one of them who made the cut.

Your legs are pushed back to your chest as Jax has his face in between your thighs. You toss and turn your head, feeling his tongue and lips licking and sucking your folds. As you look off camera, you notice there are so many pairs of eyes on you as you lay there naked, spread so wide for the whole world to see your pussy getting eaten out by Jax Teller, suddenly getting a rush. Jax flips you over on your belly and he yanks your hips back so you're on your knees with your ass popped up. He shoves his face back in and you push back, moaning when you feel the tip of his nose nudge your asshole. Jax moves away and aligns himself with you. He shoves his thick, hard cock inside of you and you yelp.

You brace yourself on the bed and turn your head to look behind you, at Jax as he pounds away, already quickly building an orgasm. You notice someone in the far corner behind Jax touching himself through the front of his jeans and you make eye contact, or so you think. He's a bit under the shadows and a studio light is blinding you, but it doesn't matter. This man is turned on by you getting fucked and that's turning you on. You can feel yourself getting more arousd with each plunge Jax takes and each stroke the mysterious man makes.

"Fuck, you're so wet," Jax growls.

"I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum!" You warn and before you know it, your muscles contract on his cock and you moan out loud, maybe embellishing your cries just a little.

Jax continues to fuck you hard and fast, drawing out your orgasm.

"That's my girl," he praises and then smacks your ass.

"CUT! Let's get behind them and get a shot of her getting fucked from behind. Back in positions!" the director shouts.

"You alright?" Jax checks on you.

"Yeah, that was a good one," you breathe out while you wiggle your ass back into position, opening and exposing yourself to him and the camera.

"Think you can do that again, sweetheart?" he asks as his thumb slowly slides in and out of the entrance of your dripping slit, teasing you.

You push back and mewl. Talents aren't supposed to engage in any sexual contact while cameras aren't rolling. Although it's not a perfect system, it helps to keep interactions professional and avoid unwanted advances. Fluffers exist for a reason. You and Jax are an exception though. You've been scene partners for a while now and are very comfortable with each other. You can't really say how it is for the other women he's done scenes with, but when you and Jax are fucking, you feel it in your soul and you know he can too. There's just this playful and cozy rapport between you two that allows you both to work together very well.

You swear Jax, the pleasure dom that he is - and what his onscreen alter ego is known for - always makes it a point to pull as many orgasms as he can out of you and you can't even fake yours. Not with him. He can tell when they're real but with him, you don’t even need to fake them. Your exes couldn't even figure out 10% of the ways Jax has learned the ins and outs of your body. Heck, he taught you a few things about your own body.

Between cut and action are the times your pussy aches the most, missing the fullness of Jax's thick cock, stretching you out in all the best ways. People have said porn is fake, but it's not. Scripted? Sure, but it's not fake, at least not all of it. Actual penises are actually penetrating actual vaginas, assholes and mouths. You've sure tasted enough semen to know it's real. Your bruised cervix is more proof of it. Don't forget the sore jaw, but they're all worth it especially if it's all because of Jax. You're also reminded of why you love doing what you do when you notice all eyes on you and Jax again.

"Quiet on set!" the director warns. "Aaaand ACTION!"

You gasp when Jax shoves back into you without warning. He angles himself in favor of the camera, but pushes in deeper and faster. Your eyes wander again and find these two men wearing kuttes off to the side watching. You recognize the one you make eye contact with and you maintain it while getting railed. You've seen him around sometimes whenever Jax comes by. He smacks your ass and you yelp, pushing back against him, chasing another release. The man you're having a staring contest with shifts uncomfortably while adjusting the front of his jeans. You reach for your bare breasts and start pinching your nipples. Your hips stutter when you feel an orgasm close to sliding into home base. You clench and moan as you get closer and closer.

"CUT! Okay that should be enough coverage. Moving on to uh..."

You growl in frustration when Jax stills his hips.

"Sorry, baby. I'd give you relief, but I think maybe we should save that for the camera," he teases as he makes his cock twitch while still inside you, making you cockwarm him between takes.

"Okay, so we're gonna transition to blowjob. Let's start from where we left off. Jax pulls out and then she turns around and sucks him off," the director tells the crew. "Then at some point, Jax, you put her on her back and go missionary."

You shudder suddenly when Jax spreads your juices around with the pad of his thumb and starts teasing your asshole with it, putting just the slightest pressure.

"Jax..." you pant.

"Shh. Be a good girl and hold it," he coos. ”Can you do that for me, baby?”

The line between fantasy and reality definitely blurs for the both of you sometimes, but you both also just enjoy each other that much. Finally they call action again and Jax starts giving you a few short shallow pumps, making you wail from relief, until he pulls out and spanks you.

"Come suck my dick," he commands, holding his cock out for you.

You manage to turn around so you're on your knees and elbows, face to face with his hard cock that's soaked in your juices. You immediately put your lips over his dark red tip and bob up and down, taking more and more of him each time you push in. As you jerk him, you ram his cock into the back of your throat, fitting as much of him as you can. Feeling your gag reflex surfacing, you encourage it to happen and then Jax fists your hair, pulling out a bit and pushing back in.

“Danny, go in for the close up of her,” the director jumps in.

When the cameraman moves in, Jax palms the back of your head and you remove your hand to deep throat him again. He gently pushes your head down and you relax your throat, trying to get more of him. When you gag again, intentionally doing it audibly, he instantly lets go and you pull him out. He grabs your chin and tilts your face up so he can see it. Tears leak out of your eyes and spit from your puffy, slick lips.

"Look at you. So pretty," he praises.

His baby blues penetrate your misty eyes. You don't know if he's just a great actor or as charming as people claim he is, but you believe, at least in the moment, that he thinks you're pretty. You continue to look up at him, playing into the camera, as this is a close up.

"Get on your back," he tells you.

As you turn over and Jax climbs over you, the cameraman steps out of your personal space, returning back to a wider shot. Jax leans down and smashes his lips over yours. His hand comes up to your face and cradles the side of it as he deepens the kiss. You kiss back, slipping your tongue between his lips and licking his pearly whites. He opens up his mouth and intertwines his own tongue with yours, tasting each other. Breaking the kiss, he pulls back, kneels and brings one of your legs up to spread them without blocking the camera’s view. He taps his cock against your clit and then slides the tip up and down your slit, teasing you, causing you to moan and your hips to jerk. He finally pushes inside of you and you arch your back. He pumps away as he holds your leg up, the muscles of his tattooed back flexing with each push and pull.

“Are you gonna cum again?” he asks.

You prop yourself up on your elbows and look down at where you meet. Your fingers reach in and you start rubbing your clit.

“Fuck, yeah, keeping touching yourself,” he encourages. “I want to feel you cum all over my cock again.”

With your next orgasm reaching the edge, your eyes wander to the man in the shadows behind Jax again. You see his hand is now in his pants and he’s unabashedly rubbing one out to this whole scene. Maybe he doesn’t think you can see him. You rub yourself a little faster and his hand matches your pacing.

“Oh god…” you start as you get closer to popping.

Jax drives into you faster and harder and before you know it, the coil snaps inside you and you cry out and arch up, thrashing as you ride the wave. You’ve already lost count of how many you’ve had as you’ve been doing this with Jax on and off already for the last hour or so.

“CUT! Okay, I think we’re gonna get to the money shot now. Are you ready for that Jax?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he replies. “Can we get five?”

“Alright. Let’s do five!” the director shouts.

As the crew breaks, you let your legs fall to the sides and stretch out a bit while Jax slips off the bed, standing next to it. He starts massaging your hips and helps you rotate your leg one at a time.

“How do you feel? Do you need a longer break?”

“No, I’m good. Let’s just finish this,” you reply. “You really like to stretch me out. It’s like I’m getting a yoga session in whenever we pair up. In fact, it’s probably good for my body.”

“Here we go, biiiig stretch,” he says as he throws one of your legs over, twisting your torso and applying firm pressure on your thigh, stretching out your lower back and glutes. Then he does the same with the other side.

A satisfying moan rumbles from your throat as you feel your muscles loosening.

"Are you ready to show everyone what a fucking star you are?" Jax asks as you straighten your body out.

Your smile reaches your eyes and that tells Jax all he needs to know. You sit up and then bring your legs behind you to kneel on the bed. Jax licks his lips as he looks at you with an equally proud smirk. While biting your lower lip, you reach down and start stroking his semi-hard cock, bringing it back to life.

As people start returning to set, the director checks on the both of you.

“Just another minute,” Jax winks at the director as you continue to jerk him.

“Alright, everyone in your places!”

You start changing up your pace and technique, making him hiss and groan.

“Lay back,” Jax directs you and you fall back to return to your previous position.

He climbs back onto the bed and repositions you to the same one he put you in before the break and pushes into you, your dampness still so present. Your body melts, feeling so delightfully full again.

“Are we rolling?” the director asks. After confirmation, he calls action.

Jax pumps a few times into you, getting you both back on track. He pushes your leg back even more, spreading you out and changing his angle. When it feels like the right time, he then switches positions, curling up behind you and slipping himself back inside you, still holding your leg up and back.

His other hand snakes up to the front of your throat and he pulls your head back. You can hear him panting right into your ear as he thrusts away, You couldn’t be anymore exposed right now with your legs splayed open so wide and Jax fucking you from behind. Only way this could get better is if you had a few more cocks to fill your other holes.

“Look at all those people looking at you,” Jax grunts quietly into your ear, meant only for you and not the camera. “Watching you being such a fucking slut for me.”

His words just about pushed you closer to yet another orgasm which you know is the intentions behind them. You push back against him, trying to match his thrusts and get a deeper penetration as you glance over at all the people watching you. Jax starts pinching your nipple and you feel it shoot down below your belly.

“They’re memorizing how your juicy pussy looks and sounds as I pound into you. Imagining it’s their cock your pussy is gripping. The sexy sounds you make every time I stroke you just right. How shameless you are and loving every fucking second of it.” Jax’s dirty talk is rapidly fueling your next release and it’s evident as the wet sounds get even louder.

"I bet those perverts are gonna sniff these sheets after the shoot too just to feel a little closer to you."

Nothing gets you off more than knowing the power you know you have over your viewers. The thrill of them watching you getting stretched out and brazenly defiled especially when they need to jerk off to you, imagining they are the ones balls deep inside you. You don't get to see most of your actual audience but the thought is enough to intoxicate you. It also helps that Jax knows how you bring the inner slut out of you. The dirtier it gets, the more you want. You're putting on a different kind of show than what your viewers may think. You're not doing this for them; you're doing this purely for yourself, getting off on these people watching you on display.

“They’re storing it in their spank bank for later and when they need to rub one out, they’ll pull it right up, jerking themelves and cumming to you because you so desperately need to get fucked like a whore over and over again, cumming all over every cock that fills up your pussy,” Jax adds as he punches up into you, your ass slapping against the top of his thighs. The squelching increases with each thrust, pushing your arousal out of you.

You also get a different kind of rush from being so sexually freeing. The blood rushes to your face and your groin when you suddenly feel like you’ve been caught doing something so naughty. Shamefully being shameless as your holes get stuffed over and over again. Embarrassed to be seen in such a state but at the same time not wanting to stop because it just feels so damn good to the point you don’t care who is watching.

"You're gonna give me one more?" Jax asks as he continues to pound into you. “Huh, baby?”

He hooks his arm under your knee to hold it back, spreading you even wider and this time, it’s his long slender fingers that dip down between your legs to rub your clit.

"Come on, baby. Cum on my cock again," he encourages. “Just one more time.”

You slam your hips back against him, chasing your next release. Between his fingertips digging into the sides of your neck, the sweet filthy words spilling into your ear and him driving his hard, thick and long cock into your cunt, your body is already close to the end, but now him rubbing your swollen clit, it launches you right over to the line.

“Be a good girl and cum for me,” he grits.”Cum for me, you fucking slut.”

With that, your eyes roll back and you cry out. You are convulsing over him, your walls clamping down hard over his cock.

“That’s it! That’s my fucking girl,” he growls.

His pacing maintains even after you stop flopping around.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum too,” Jax pants, and then lets out a low moan as he empties himself inside you.

“Great! Danny, make sure you get a close up of the cream pie shot,” the director reminds him.

After Danny quickly repositions himself, Jax slowly pulls out of you and slaps your clit a few times, making you shudder. His hand reaches between your legs and spreads your lips open. You bear down and push his seed out of you. It leaks out of you and runs down to the crack of your ass. With your juices mixed in with his, he coats your lips with it using his fingers and runs it over your clit as well before sliding his fingers inside you, gently pushing it back in.

Jax turns your head to face him and leans in to kiss you tenderly.

“Okay, that’s a wrap! Let’s break and clean up for the next shoot.”

You continue to lazily make out with him, even well after cut was called. As the crew works around you and Jax, you stay lying in bed for a few more moments while stretching your muscles. Jax slips some shorts on and re-joins you, cuddling and spooning you after draping your robe over your naked body.

“Jax!” you giggle as he kisses a trail up the back of your shoulder and neck.

It’s almost unheard of but Jax always gives you aftercare after every shoot, especially the ones where it gets a bit degrading and painful. He does that with all his scene partners, but sometimes you like to imagine he only does it with you. Your mind starts drifting, falling into this comfortable and peaceful lull as he runs his fingers up and down your body that’s cocooned in his.

“Hey,” he nudges the tip of his nose against the back of your ear as he inhales your scent, waking you from your state.

“Hm?” you reply drowsily.

Then Jax finally pops the question you never thought he’d ask.

"You think you're ready for your first gang bang?" Jax asks.

Suddenly getting your second wind, you twist your body to face him and plant a kiss on his cheek, his smile now matching yours as your heart now grows full.

“Really?!” you ask as your eyes light up.

“I’ll even let you pick out your partners.”

Unable to contain your excitement, you squeal as your smile widens even more.

“Okay, I think we should go get cleaned up and get outta here before they have to kick us out,” he suggests. “I’m laying on a wet spot.”

Jax affectionately boops the tip of your nose with this finger and then kisses your forehead before helping you out of bed.

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