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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years

Text

~ 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 ~

Part III

All picture rights to their respective owners.

ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥: Photographer!Hyunjin x fem!model!reader, manager!Bangchan, stylist!Jisung, agedup!straykids, SMUT, fluff, character driven story, stranger to lovers, summer!au, soft!dom hyunjin x fem!reader, PIV, penetrative sex, protected sex (wow first time writing that, good on ya cher) sexual photos/pictures taken during sex, semi-public sex, orgasm (m/f), cum, fingering, blowjob, light choking, praise kink, handkink??

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 5.4 k

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: am so creative with the office numbers? right? tell me im creative LMAO

oh god this was a fucking pain in the ass to read through i cringed at every sentence so hopefully my pain will be your pleasure

Taking pictures of you - MASTERLIST

ONE｜TWO｜THREE

Unlike any other day you couldn’t get out of bed. A boulder of nervousness plaguing you. Through the cracks of the blinds the sun shined in, small particles of dust floating around your resting figure. You were wide awake yet you felt asleep, your thoughts consuming your mind as the dimly lit room became brighter as time ticked on.

You were thinking, perhaps overthinking. This whole situation with Hyunjin seemed confusing and happened way to fast, your psyche not having a moment to digest the events that unfolded during the last couple of days.

Love was a feeling you were familiar with. You knew how it felt. Those butterflies in ones stomach, fluttering everytime a thought of the person passes through your ones.

You felt the same feeling everytime you thought of Hyunjin.

How his soft lips would feel against your cheek that was hot from just looking at his beauty. How his blond hair falls in his face everytime he puts it into a ponytail, his silver decorated fingers tucking the stray pieces behind his pierced ear. These thoughts alone would make your heart beat faster than ever, you eyes clouding with lust even if you knew that this relationship would be impossible given the status the both of you have in this judging industry.

Pushing the covers aside, you sat up before slowly stepping out, your feet hitting the cold flooring of the apartment. You stretched your arms upwards, feeling your spine extend as you squinted, a ray of sunshine hitting you right in the eyes.

The boulder in your chest didn’t feel any lighter but you still got up, wanting time to fly by fast just so you could see his face once again.

♡

No amount of mindfulness exercises could calm the churning of your stomach. The clock in your living room ticked as you watched it with careful eyes, waiting for the time to hit precisely half past before you got up from the couch and shuffled over to the wardrobe, only being stopped from a pling on your phone.

[Bangchan] y/n! can you come by in about an hour? need to discuss some concept photos, sorry for such short notice ❤️

That’s when it hit you. Bangchan didn’t know anything about this. He didn’t know that you’d seen the photos from the shoot and most importantly that you went on a date with the photographer. You could only describe the feeling as ‘improper’. Bangchan was after all one of the closest people in your life, he made you to who you are today and lying to him felt wrong but you shielded your eyes from the truth as you typed back.

[y/n] soz, got plans

[Bangchan] I don’t see any other meeting scheduled for today?

[y/n] you do know that I have a life outside of work? take the day off Chan, you could use some rest ❤️

[Bangchan] Don’t worry about me! You have fun alright?

[y/n] alright, see you next week then ^^

You clicked on the off button on your phone, making the text messages disappear. Getting paranoid, you plopped down on the couch, thinking about every possible way you could get caught which you’d already been, photos of you and Hyunjin circulating throughout social media but they mustn’t have reached Bangchan just yet. You felt like digging a hole underground, wanting to hide away from all these thoughts. The main thought in your mind was whether or not you understood Hyunjin’s intentions.

What if this love was one sided?

Waveing your hand in the air, you attempted to get the mind out of your head as if you were breaking up a cloud of real thoughts. You glanced up at the clock and only then realised that you were running late, as usual.

“Wear whatever you want”

Was what Hyunjin said last time but that didn’t make it easier to choose an outfit. Standing infront of multiple racks of clothing you pulled up the weather application on your phone. “Sunny” you mumbled, making you gravitate towards a beige croptop with white stripes around the neckline as well as a white tennis skirt. Not too dressed up but not too dressed down either, just right. Clothes were flying everywhere when you searched for a pair of white socks to pair with your white high platform sneakers. You put the outfit on, observing yourself in the mirror and smiling, trying to get yourself in a better mood rather than being a nervous wreck. Pulling up your phone, you snapped a picture and sent it to the person who knew best about fashion. Jisung.

[y/n] Sungie! Is this acceptable for a impromptu photoshoot?

The fashionable boy replied minutes later.

[Jisung] oh!! that’s so cute! very much acceptable in my book 🥺

You smiled at his reply

[y/n] phew! good...

[Jisung] is it a date?

Your fingers froze above the keyboard on the phone. Was it that noticeable? Was this really a date?

[y/n] no!!!

[Jisung] you sure, i saw those photos on social media. ahh.. y/n dating famous photographers now...

By this point you were sweating bullets.

[y/n] first of all, i’m not meeting him and second of all, he’s a friend so shut it.

[Jisung] hahah alright alright... i won’t tell Bangchan

[y/n] you have nothing to tell!! we’re friends just like you and I so be quiet otherwise i’ll come over there with balloons, popping them in your face.

[Jisung] oh wow... im so scared...

[y/n] need to leave, if i hear something about you spreading some rumors i’ll seriously do it.

[Jisung] Photo Attachment.

The photo that popped up was from yesterday and your breath hitched. You couldn’t help but to notice the way Hyunjin was looking at you, his eyes filled what seemed like adoration.

[Jisung] yeah because that totally doesn’t look like a date

[y/n] DON’T TELL BANGCHAN PLEASE

[Jisung] oh so it is a date? alright, i won’t! have fun and be safe

[y/n] be safe? we’re taking pictures, not drag racing

[Jisung] hahah stop playing innocent

Your eyes widened in realisation.

[y/n] you crazy fucker

[y/n] I WILL DESTROY YOUR ENTIRE WARDROBE IF YOU DON’T SHUT UP I DON’T SLEEP ON THE FIRST DATE

[Jisung] Whatever you say

Thanks to Jisung you were now running dangerously late leading to you snatching objects from all corners of the apartment before ordering a cab that would arrive in minutes.

♡

“We’ve arrived, miss” the cab driver says, smiling at you through the rear-view mirror. You thank him and step out of the yellow car, a smell of car exhaust hitting your nose. The cab drives away, leaving nothing but a small cloud of smoke. You looked up, almost not seeing the tip of the building as the skyscraper towered over you. You’re beside the busy road, mouth agape. You’d walked by a couple of times but knowing that you knew the person that owned at least a bit of the building made you giddy.

You walked in and was greeted by a grand lobby, a front desk as big as the wall behind it. The entire place was filled with people, everyone from business men in suits to trainee models in the most flamboyant outfits. Fishnet stockings, heavy chains and distressed jeans that consisted of more air then jeans material. The sun shined through the many glass panes that made up most of the ceiling and the slight breeze of the air conditioner made this whole vibe of the building comforting.

“Hi! y/n y/l/n, meeting Hwang Hyunjin” you say to the receptionist that was a relatively old woman, probably in her early 60′s. She was wearing a white button down shirt with her hair in a high bun, a couple of gray strands sticking out. Her red painted mouth contorted into a smile.

“y/n, Hyunjin said that you could make your way to his office without the guards. You must be a close friend”

You smiled shyly with your warm cheeks, looking at either side of the desk where two tall buff men were standing, wearing walkie talkies on their black vests. With a small nod, you started speaking.

“W-where exactly is his office?”

“Floor 20, his main office is in room 03″

“Thank you!”

You quickly shuffled over to the elevators, pushing the button that lit up with orange light emitting.

PLING

The doors to the elevator opened and you stepped inside, a couple of office workers joining you and pressing the necessary buttons to make the elevator lift off.

You step out at the 20th floor, looking around at all the intricate wall design, everything inspired by ancient greece which explains the broken vases that were scattered across the hallway in the most unconventional places. They were all encapsulated with glass and standing on tall white pillars, the vases looking rather sad, being in a spectra of ashy grey colors, every single one of them falling apart.

Stopping, you observed this one vase that caught your attention. It had swirly details around the edge and was shattered in a rather beautiful way. It made you think how even the most broken pieces still carry beauty, beauty unique to only oneself.

“It’s pretty right?”

The voice sounded familiar and warm, almost as if it had anticipated your arrival.

“y-yeah, it really is”

You say turning around, nearly jumping up on the wall when seeing the figure that looked back at you. It was Hyunjin.

Yet again, his presence was astonishing. Everytime you met him it felt as if you’d met him for the first time. The blond boy was standing tall in front of you, wearing a black hoodie, black basketball shorts and a matching headband. A backpack was thrown across his one shoulder and a smaller camera around his neck, everything about his appearence looking completely different from the last time you saw him, his style usually more sophisticated.

“On your way to meet me, yeah?” he asked and you nodded shyly.

“My office is the other way, you know?”

You lifted your gaze to look at the tiny sign on the wall that pointed in two directions, you were walking down the hallway for offices 20-40 by accident and you smiled awkwardly, scratching the back of your head.

“I didn’t know heh...”

“It’s alright! Come with me, I was on my way to the studio”

“What room is that? Your office?”

“No, the room next to my office, come! I’ll show you!”

He grabbed your hand and you felt your body stiffen as he dragged you down the hallway, his hand not being decorated with statement rings this time, instead feeling soft and warm. You blanked out, your legs walking by themselves.

He stopped at a brown door, a tiny gold sign saying « 04 » and beside it a transparent sign stating that this was a photography studio. Hyunjin opened the door and dragged you in, closing the door behind you.

A cold wind hit your warm body, the air conditioner blasting it’s breeze with a faint sound. The room was wide, one wall being made completely out of glass, stand close enough and you could peer down the bustling city filled with people, cars and buildings. The typical photoshoot setup was already in place, the camera being propped up infront of a white backdrop, a white pilar in the middle and two boxlights standing unlit behind the camera. In the corner stood a vintage brown leather couch, the swirly metal details were concealed with a layer of chipped gold paint. Beside the couch stood a simple white table. A black bucket rested on the floor and upon closer inspection you noticed plants, multiple stems of eucalyptus poking out, wrapped in cellophane.

“What are these for?”

You sat down on your knees infront of the bucket while Hyunjin was pressing buttons on the camera that was screwed onto the tripod before walking over to the table and placing down the camera he had around his neck, his backpack lying lazily on the floor. He looked at your crouching figure, the corners of his lips going upwards.

“I thought they’d suit you”

You held in one of the stems, turning your head and looking at his shy smile, his dimples sitting playfully on the sides of his cheeks. You giggle, standing up and leaning against the white pillar, holding the plant in your both hands.

“Do they?”

Hyunjin walked towards the steadied camera, bending down and peeking through the lens.

“They do”

click

Your eyes widen, him snapping a picture without you paying attention.

“Hey! I wasn’t even prepared!” you chuckle, pointing at the blonde boy with the long plant that was dripping at the stem.

“Nature is a bit more beautiful when caught off guard, don’t you think?” Hyunjin says, his honey-like voice, echoing through the room.

You nod, staring down at the leafs of the plant, rubbing them between your thumb and pointer finger.

click

“Try leaning with your butt against the pillar and with one foot fully on the side of the pillar”

You did as he told, the pillar being surprisingly stable.

“Tilt your head and look down to the right”

Once again, you follow his instruction and he hums in satisfaction before pushing the button on the camera twice.

click

Your warm face turned into a smile, laughing loudly from embarrassment when he observed the pictures on his display. He snickers quietly from shyness, a faint blush brushing across his features as his brown eyes were glued to the screen. Hyunjin peeks up from the camera, seeing you looking down at the backdrop that was filled with ashy grey shoeprints.

The sound of his footsteps got closer until you saw them in your periferal view causing you to look up at his tentative face. He smiles, displaying his pearly white teeth and crescent shaped eyes before stretching his hand out, feather light fingertips grazing your hot cheek as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, your dainty gold earrings now visible. Hyunjin’s hand lingers on your jaw as he looks at you with a gleam in his eyes, you gulping loudly as your gaze lowers to his pouty pink lips. Leaning forward, Hyunjin tilts his head, attaching his lips onto yours, your heart skipping a beat from the comforting feeling of having him close to you.

You drop the fragile twig on the floor, kissing him back by pursing your lips and tilting your head as well. The romantic tension that has been bubbling on the surface everytime you met had finally subsided, now the air overflowed sexual tension.

Cupping his blushed cheeks, you deepen the kiss my licking his plump bottom lip, coaxing his tongue that eventually slipped into your mouth. His hands were firmly planted on your waist, pulling you closer to his body that radiated heat in the already scorching summer weather.

The two tongues danced around in a impatient manner, the two of you dreaming of this moment since meeting. Hyunjin’s hands roamed over all the valleys of your body, placing his hands on the bottom of your butt, pulling you even closer, close enough to feel his semi-erection against your abdomen. Your eyes spring open in realisation, your body melting in his arms as you felt the effects of the deep kiss, the effects being you unable to control the wet patch that was forming on your underwear, nothing but the thin fabric seperating it from the air due to you wearing a skirt.

Pulling away from the kiss, your hot breath and a line of saliva was the only thing that seperated you and Hyunjin. You shielded your face from his twinkling eyes, you glancing at the blonde boy through the gaps between your fingers. His two hands grip your wrists, pulling your hands down as he smiles widely

“Don’t hide that pretty face”

Hyunjin giggles, your chuckles following shortly after. The boy grips your wrist tightly, walking backwards as he looks intensely into your eyes, his back falling against the couch as you sit down on the couch on your knees, he looks at you for a moment before attaching his lips again, pushing you down and hovering above you. The wet sounds of the sloppy kiss fills your ear, you helplessly rubbed your thighs together in anticipation. His fingertips trailed down your chest, tracing small circles on the inside of your thigh before plunging down under your skirt, grazing the wet spot on your underwear. The both of you smile into the kiss.

“Can I?” Hyunjin says, momentarily pulling away from your sweet lips and tugging on the edge of your panties. You nod shyly, not believing that this is happening.

His lanky fingers run up and down your wet folds as you put your hand at the back of his neck, pulling his blushing face closer to yours and pursing your lips to kiss him sensually. Hyunjin’s fingers gently brush up against your clit that was swollen from excitement, sending shivers down your spine.

You knew this was wrong, the door wasn’t even locked meaning that anyone could walk in at any moment but the way lips felt on yours made a thousand fireworks ignite, sparking from your chest. Wrapping your hand around his wide wrist, you guide his fingers down to your sopping entrace, your entire body craving him inside of you.

Hyunjin places once last peck on your soft lips before looking at you with concern, asking for permission with his fluffy brown eyes. You nod, your eyelashes gently fluttering over your eyes. His middle finger slips into you with ease, shortly followed by a second finger from seeing how good your cunt swallowed his digits, your essence coating them. A faint gasp escapes your lips as his fingers felt around your velvety walls, the whole situation still feeling like a dream.

“D-does it feel good?”

“mhm!” you hum, nodding your head as your grasp around his wrist tightens everytime he curls his fingers upwards. Small whimpers came from you as his fingers started pumping in and out, the blond boy chuckling at your reaction.

“Did you think I was innocent?”

The question lingers in the air as you look at him in the eyes.

“Y-yes,,,” just as the question you let the answer hang in the air as Hyunjin hummed, being knuckles deep into you and curling his fingers upwards once more, making you choke on your own moan. Hyunjin nodded slowly, glancing down at your body as he thought.

“It’s because,,, because you’re shy,, different from the others.” You added quickly, filling the silence that was soon interupted by your whimpers as the so called ‘innocent boy’ started circling your sensitive bud with his thumb.

“I think you’re different from the others, you make me like this baby”

Hyunjin said, seconds later crashing his lips against yours, his tongue attacking yours. He retracted his fingers, the tips coated in your juices and glistening in the sunlight. You whined inbetween kisses, the feeling of being empty leaving you disappointed. Hyunjin’s veiny hands trailed up your stomach, pulling the croptop up and resting it just above your boobs, your white bra exposed.

Hyunjin pulled away from the kiss, the both of you breathless as the kisses you exchanged were anything but light. His two damp fingers made their way to his mouth, licking them with a slight smirk on his lips. You could go crazy from the sight alone, his big brown eyes turning blank with lust. Not being able to control yourself any longer, you sat up on your knees and pulled off the top, unclasping your bra while you’re at it. As the fabric hit the floor, Hyunjin’s eyes darted to your bare tits, the wind from the air conditioner stiffening your two sensitive buds. You looked at him with a jumbled expression, him staring at your nipples for what seemed like an eternity. You hummed softly, causing him to snap back into reality, the blond boy pulling the black hoodie up from his head, displaying the defined muscles on his abdomen. You wanted him, you wanted him so bad.

Your knees hit the floor with a thump as looked up at Hyunjin, knealing between his two legs and watching the tent in his loose shorts grow.

“Do you really want to do this,, y/n,, you don’t have t-”

You hushed before speaking.

“Don’t worry, Hyunjin” you say with a stern voice making Hyunjin shiver, not knowing if it’s from your tone of voice or the way his name rolled of your tongue.

The blonde boy grabbed the small camera that was resting on the table, you looked up at him with confusion before smiling at his pleading eyes that met yours. You nodded, knowing exactly what he wanted to do and giving him permission since you never knew if he’d get to see you like this ever again.

You hook your two hands on the sides of his shorts and underwear, pulling the fabric down as Hyunjin awkwardly lifts his hips up from the couch for a moment, allowing you to slide the both garments down in one nimble motion. His veiny length sprung out, the tip hitting his abdomen for a moment before resting infront of your eyes, a bead of precum already leaking from his delicate slit. You gulp, the task of sucking him off suddenly seeming daunting. Hyunjin must have noticed since his face turned concerned, a half smile flashing across his lips.

“y/n,, you don’t have to-aghh!”

Hyunjin was cut of by his own breathy moan, your pursed lips wrapping around his leaking tip, licking small kitten licks before sinking deeper down his impressive length. Hyunjin’s blonde hair fell out of his face when his head rolled back in pleasure, resting it against the back of the rustic couch.

“f-fuck y/n,,, just- just like that”

He hummed out, his sweet voice intoxicated with desire. Your tongue swirled around his pretty red tip, simultaneously stroking the part doesn’t fit inside of your wet mouth. Multiple shutters of the camera was heard, his hand barely stable enough to hold it due to the pleasure that was shooting through his core. It didn’t take long before his dick twitched against you lips, your cheeks hollowed as bob up and down his girth. His eyes rolled back into his skull as his hand went down to cup your cheek, your eyes stinging with tears as you choked around him. Pulling off with a pop, his dick glimmered as a heavy layer of saliva rested on it, his already warm body turning hotter. He looks down at you, a smug half-smile errupting on his lips as he continued to stroke your cheek, his thumb grazing your cheekbone as he flicked through the photos on his camera, the half-smile now a full on expression of happiness. The two of you sat like that for a while, the silence engulfing the room as you observed his indescribable features. His sharp jawline contrasted with his soft skin that had a dust of rose pink across the cheeks, his moles adding to his charm.

“Fuck me, Hyunjin”

The words slipped out of your mouth, his brown shiny eyes widening before being overtaken by a blank gaze, placing the silver camera back on the tiny table.

“You thought I would stop here?”

Now it was your turn to be flustered, his sugary sweet voice interlaced with the cocky words making you even wetter then before, if that’s even possible. Without answering, he pulled you up to the couch by your hand and laying you down before realising what he forgot. The blond boy reached for the baggy backpack laying on the white floor, unzipping the front pocket and fishing out a condom. You nodded shyly, feeling your hands getting sweatier from nervousness, not really sure where to put them. Hyunjin noticed your gaze that was running all over the room, your body slightly tense. The boy snickered, ripping the shiny wrapping open with his hands where veins had started to become apparent.

“Something wrong?” He asks shyly, placing the condom on his leaking tip before rolling the rubber onto his length. You shake your head.

“J-just thinking,,,” you say, your voice fading out at the end.

“About?” His voice inhibiting a questionable tone as he holds himself up above you, his elbows on either side of your head.

“A-about,,, you”

That was a lie. You thought about how this would end up being disclosed to your company and your friends, Felix would snap your head if he found out that you slept with Hyunjin. Did it even have to be disclosed? Couldn’t it just be a secret between you and Hyunjin? As much as you wish that it could, it simply couldn’t. Not working in this industry.

Hyunjin smiled softly, his hand trailing down the curves of your body before lifting up the fabric of your skirt, his fingers pushing your panties aside and feeling your throbbing pussy once again. His caramel eyes looked into you the entire time.

Lifting himself up, he positioned the tip of his member at your sopping entrance, you chuckling softly as he gripped your hips but your chuckle was quickly replaced by a loud gasp, his dick stretching out your tight pussy better than you thought.

“Are you ok, y/n?”

He said softly, his dick not even halfway in but already jerking from your welcomingly wet and warm cunt wrapping around his crimson tip. You nodded, looking up at him.

“Pl-please,, keep going Hyunjin”

The blonde boy blushed, his ears turning red. Tightening the grip on your hips he fully entered you, you shutting your eyes tightly from the slightly painful but pleasurable experience. Glancing down at you, he had to use every bit of discipline to not pound into you. In his eyes you looked angelic. Your parted lips that we’re coated by saliva and the way your skirt bunched up around your waist made it feel like torture to be inside of you, not moving to let you adjust to his size.

“C-can I move?” He asks impatiently to which you smile, nodding and wrapping your legs around him, pulling him closer to your warm body. Your breath hitched as he softly wraps his hand around your neck, him thinking he’d gone too far.

“I-im sorry! I-”

You hush him, placing your index finger over his plush pink lips.

“I’ll tell you if anything doesn’t feel good, alright?” You so desperatly wanted to place a “baby” at the end of the sentence, that nickname fitted him but being to scared to confess your feelings. Just because he wants you doesnt mean he loves you. Hyunjin nodded like an excited puppy, finally getting the permission of moving and feeling your clenched walls around his length, his one hand still wrapped around your throat.

His thrusts were slow, filled with passion which only worsened your longing for him, the longing of him being yours. Small whimpers dripped from between your parted lips, the moans being mixed with Hyunjin’s low grunts and sounding like a melody. You peeked up at the model-like boy, his expression being synonymous to pleasure. The movements eventually quickened, his long cock hitting your cervix with every thrust, making you put your hands behind his back, your fingernails digging into his soft honey skin. His previously closed eyes fluttered open, watching you with a soft gaze through his fierce eyes. You smiled and he smiled back before his gaze drifted away from yours.

“Y-you feel so good y-y/n,,, you’re an angel”

Chuckling and moaning at the same time, his praise gave you a sense of security but also a sense of lust, wanting to coax out even more dangerously sweet words from his pretty mouth.

“Go faster,,, Hyunjin”

You gasped out, the pleasure starting to pick up it’s pace. The sound of skin slapping against each other bounced off the white walls in the big studio, the old sofa creaking ever so often from the blond boys powerful thrusts. Hyunjin would never get tired of hearing you say his name, never.

The knot in your stomach signaled your impending orgasm as your walls were stretched out. You pleaded him to not stop, your voice sounding frail as you neared your sweet release. The hot tempeture wasn’t helping the situation, sweat beading underneath Hyunjins headband, soaking the two strands of blonde locks that hanged infront of his face.

“F-fuck,, y/n you’re so pretty with my hands wrapped around your throat, fuck-”

A loud groan escaped his lips, the pleasure of your wet pussy against his rock-hard length getting too much, Hyunjin having to hold back until you came, not wanting to appear selfish. It wasn’t long until you felt your legs shaking around him, your toes curling as the squeaky sound from the couch increased along with the speed of Hyunjin’s thrusts, the rubber not giving him as much intimacy as he would have liked but the visual of you lying beneath him, squirming away from bliss and softly moaning made up for it.

“I think- i think I’m cumming, s-shit Hyunjin, I’m cumming”

The words spilled from you, quickly followed by a incoherent mumbling of his name before a wave of hot flashed through your entire body, your walls clenching around him as your erotic juices coated his twitching cock. You held your hands against your face that was lightly coated with sweat but before you could come down from your high Hyunjin pinned your hands above your head by your wrists, him letting out a growl before his cum filled the tip of the condom. The both of you rode out your powerful orgasm, your moans softening as the intense feeling subsided, Hyunjin shivering with his last thrust before pulling out.

The light sound of the air conditioner was now accompanied with heavy panting, your chest heaving as Hyunjin softly pulled down your skirt and ran his hand through his blonde hair, pushing the stray hairs away before rolling off the cumfilled condom and throwing it on the floor, the rubber landing on the dark clothing that were pooling next to the leather couch. The young boy lays down beside you, your eyes fixed on the ceiling as you faded away in a million thoughts, still trying to process what just happened. You turned your head against his, feeling his lingering gaze on your face and you swore you could hear your heart beat in your ears as his cheekbones lifted, his now cherry red lips turning into a soft smile.

“Do you like me?”

You choked on your own saliva, coughing and sitting up in panic making Hyunjin worry, him patting you on the back as he sat up next to you.

“I-im sorry,, I shouldn’t have- y/n,, so-sorry”

He mutters out as you start laughing, he looking confused at your chuckling figure.

“T-that’s,,, quite the direct question” you say, clearing your throat before continuing. “I don’t know Hyunjin. You know that this isn’t possible”

You saw his previously twinkling eyes turn blank, his heart sinking.

“Uhm,,, n-no totally not,,, I just said it to-”

He tried to play cool, brushing off the fact that he didn’t get the answer he so longed for. His gaze turning away from your angelic face.

“But I like you”

You spoke quietly, your voice cracking at the end. Hyunjin turned back to you.

“Why wouldn’t it work then?” he asked with a confused voice. You sighed

“Hyunjin, do you not know who you are? We fucked in a building where you own half of the rights, you work with famous people and your work is in every magazine, don’t you understand?”

He stayed silent for a while, comtemplating on what to say before grabbing your clammy hand.

“Do you only see me for my career?”

You shake your head, trying to catch eye contact with the blonde boy but failing as he stares down at your small hand in his grasp.

“Hyunjin, I love you but this feels way to quick,,, I can’t just-”

“I’ve known about you for a while, y/n. Do you know why we even worked together in the first place?”

Hyunjin speaks calmly, a thin string of sadness threading through his voice. You shake your head, looking at him but he looking away.

“I reached out to Bangchan first”

You weren’t surprised, only confused. What did he see in you?

“I know it might seem,, rushed! But if- if we both like each other then we can make it work. Please don’t worry about our reputations, you are more than your career y/n even if it means the world to you.”

Hyunjin hesitated finishing his sentence, feeling sick to his stomach from the fear of rejection. You withdrew your hand, instead opening your arms and hugging him to which he smiled and hugged you back, the both of you falling back on the couch facing each other.

“I think I love you,,, like,,, I really love you”

Hyunjin brushed away a strand of hair from your face, his tender eyes meeting yours.

“And I love you too, y/n”

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

@vogueinnie @that-anxious-bisexual @putmetogetheragain13 @hyunsluvv @lawleighette @meow-minho @minaamhh @ohmysparkle @hwangi @rindomo @fleeingreality @nycol-ie @jisungsplatforms @p0t4t0don14ll @skzstanlol

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yutahoes · 3 years

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Roses and Blood

pairing: private detective! Yuta Nakamoto x journalist! Y/N

word count: 4.4k words

genre: angst, a bit of smut, NOIR

summary : A high-profile cheating case just become a murder case. And the center of it all is the detective himself.

warnings : death, murder, blood, cigarettes, alcohol, sexual themes (masturbation) but not detailed, abuse, mentions of cheating, mentions of torture

This is my attempt to write a Noir AU, I’m not a fan of detective movies or this genre so this is the best that I can make up. This is heavily inspired by Secret’s Poison MV. 😁

taglist: @dimplehyunn @nominsgirl @jaesqueso @ahsshilee-me @readers-posts @justpeachygirl

written for Neo-City Noir Collab Call by @suh-insane

An extra cube of sugar in my cup of coffee. The only thing that changed in my everyday routine. The everyday bustling and hustling of the street outside didn’t change a bit. A typical day.

The calmness of the office was disturbed when the door opened. A strong scent of woman’s perfume hitting my nose. Roses. She smelled like roses.

The woman removed her coat, revealing a red button-down blouse hugging her figure. Blood. She reminds me of blood. A woman who might bring trouble.

Her heels click-clacking against the hardwood of my office and she slumped on the chair before I could remove my eyes from her. “I need your help.” She started, crossing her legs. “Detective Nakamoto.”

I leaned in on the table to assess her. An unreadable expression. She might be used to this. She took an envelope from her white handbag, sliding it on the table in front of me. "This is the file for Senator Hall." I opened the envelope which revealed a detailed copy of the said senator's information. "There had been threats to his life and I wanted to ask your help in finding who the mystery sender is."

There are different sized papers inside the envelope, letters cut from magazines that contain messages of threats. “Are you and the senator…?” Her lips curled up even before I could finish my sentence.

She handed a card, slipping it on the table. “I’m Y/N, Senator Hall’s publicist.” True enough, the card says that she is a journalist. “There are talks about how good you are, considering you found the mistress of Otto Holding’s chairman.” My jaw clenched. It’s not my best work but why did I get famous because of that? “Can I assure your help, Detective?”

I nodded with a smirk. She knew the business. Interesting. The woman placed the briefcase on the table, “This is just the first payment.” A briefcase full of money? This is serious business. She placed a gold-colored card above the briefcase with the letters ‘Fantasia’ written on it. “The senator usually comes to this club. He often gets the letters in this place.”

Fantasia? It’s a new high-end club that just opened for VIPs. This just narrowed down the list of potential suspects. They can either be VIPs or someone working in that club.

“I trust that you do your job discreetly,” She leaned on the table and I found myself staring at the low cut of her red blouse. “Mr. Yuta Nakamoto.” The way my name rolled on her tongue sent shivers down my spine. And as she left the office, her heels clicking on the floor, I was left with the scent of roses and an unhealthy amount of attraction for the senator’s publicist.

My fingers fiddled with the business card she handed.

Miss Y/N.

Trouble.

Will I get to see her again?

Fantasia is so posh, so high class, that security is so tight. It runs in an invite-only policy, the golden card that Miss Y/N handed. But even if you had the said invite, you needed to give them your personal information. Nothing bad will surely happen here.

The inside was not anything I imagined. The smell of alcohol and the blinding lights are the first thing noticeable inside, followed by jazz music playing. Girls in promiscuous clothes were serving drinks as another girl with flashy red clothes was singing on the stage. The color of rose and blood. And I was reminded of Ms. Y/N once again.

Senator. I’m here for a task.

After getting my drink from the bartender, I searched for a place where I could sit and surveyed the place. Before I approached a corner seat, I spotted the man I should be eyeing, seated on a velvet couch and staring at the girl on the stage. Based on the files, he has a wife and she’s very wealthy. Is this another case of a cheating husband? Then this case will be solved immediately.

The girl in the red dress singing earlier made her way to the crowd, stopping in front of the senator before giving him a smile and a wink. A smirk escaped my lips, case closed. I've been in this work for so long to know that his wife is giving him threats for having a girlfriend. A cliché love story.

The task was done even before I could begin so I drank a little to celebrate my small victory. Although the drink is expensive, I deserved this.

I'm busy minding my drink when the seat beside me gets occupied. "Hi." The same girl in the red dress singing on stage earlier. The senator's lover. "You're new here, aren't you?"

Does she keep track of the people here? "Want me to show you a good time?" What? But before I could say anything, she lightly pushed up her skirt to show me her thigh. What the hell is this club?

I turned around from her, facing the female bartender who was wiping the counter, and drank the contents of my glass in one gulp. I have to get out of here. The girl held my chest and I hastily stood up, feeling my head throbbed. What is happening to me? I felt my legs lose their strength as my stomach grumbled, sour liquid creeping up in my throat.

Immediately, I ran to the men's toilet to vomit everything in my stomach. The sour and bitter taste coming out of my mouth. Where did this come from? Is it the expensive drink? Am I not allowed to drink expensive scotch? Luxury life isn't really for me.

The moment I went out, wiping my mouth with my handkerchief, a surprise overtook me. A body was lying on the floor, a pool of blood by my feet. Turning it, I stumbled on my feet to see the senator as pale as a ghost. What the hell? I kneeled on the bloody floor, pumping his chest to at least save him but it's too late. He already lost a lot of blood. Shit, this is bad.

A stray bullet can be seen on the side of his body next to something glistening. An earring. Gold flower earring. The lingering smell of cigarettes, mint cigarettes. Before I could stand, the door opened followed by a scream of terror. This is really bad.

The door closed. I had to save myself. Even if it is the most questionable thing, I jumped out of the window and ran for my life. My hands were still bloody as well as my coat, the earring in my coat pocket. This is a first. What will happen to me now? There's only one person who saw me. They can't actually remember me, right?

It must be the distress, the lightheaded feeling of panic. A blinding car light made me stop in my tracks. This might be my death. I should have bought the fanciest drink there is.

"Detective Nakamoto?" Then the voice of an angel. I might be dead. "Are you alright?" The angel appears to wear a red shirt. The color of blood. Death. "What happened to you?" Her flesh feels warm, she's alive.

It is the distress, the panic, that I cling to her arm. The police sirens could be heard and I begged for her to take me out of the place.

The evening lights were blinding as she drove. Destination, unknown. Her phone rang and she accepted the call, Mrs. Hall. "My husband is dead." She stepped on the brakes immediately, putting her phone on handset before glancing at me.

I didn't hear what they were talking about but her stare at me got me ideas. She might have found out that I'm in the same club as him. When she put down the call, she only stared at me. "You killed him?"

"What? Of course not."

She raised an eyebrow, eyeing my bloody coat. "I swear I didn't. I saw him lying in his own blood when I left the restroom stall."

"Someone saw you." She opened the radio of her car, "And now, they're looking for you." The voice from the radio was talking about how the senator was found dead in the jazz club and that they're looking for a man in a coat. I hastily removed my coat, throwing it on the backseat of the car.

She laughed at that. "You think that's all, detective?" She showed her phone, a picture of me taken earlier in the club with a wanted sign on top. Shit! "I asked you to find who tried to kill him, not kill him."

"I swear I didn't," I shouted, putting my hands up. "I don't even own a gun and he was shot." I tried to think of other things I noticed at the scene of the crime. Come on Yuta, think. "It smells like cigarettes and I don't smoke."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "But why are you there?"

"You asked me to come there."

"I mean the restroom." She rolled her eyes. "If he was shot, why didn't you hear the gunfire? Why didn't you ask for help?"

I closed my eyes in frustration. Journalists really are inquisitive. "I was vomiting my drink and I don't know, I panicked. I thought I could save him." She started the car without a word and I just sat there, looking outside to see where we were going.

What will happen to me now? A wanted man. I can't return to my original life. Why am I in this mess? "I'm sorry. I believe you. I asked you for help and you were just trying to do your job." I nodded. At least she understands. "But for now, everyone knows you so I'll help you hide then maybe we can clear your name."

I have nothing to do but trust her. I need to clear my name. Why is my brain so blank now?

We stopped at a gas station to get some food. I’m pretty famished after vomiting everything but the moment I stepped inside the store, the news of the senator can be heard followed by a description of the person who killed him. The attendant stared at me before Y/N took his attention. This is bad.

Hastily, I made a beeline outside after cleaning my hands off the blood. Y/N is already outside with a lollipop in her mouth, leaning by her car. “I borrowed some clothes.” She should have said that when I was inside but where did she get those clothes? “You can change inside the car.”

Here? In the open? But she was already opening the door for me. The clothes were on the backseat of her car, a black shirt and jogger pants. And it’s better than having my bloody clothes so even if the shirt is a little tight, pants shorter, I have to wear this.

She eyed me from head to toe and for the first time, I felt exposed. A raise of an eyebrow followed by the lollipop removed from her mouth with a popping sound. "Do you have any place you can go?" Is there? They're probably at my apartment address by now. The police might be in my office. I shook my head and she smirked, gesturing to the car.

The city buildings are now gone, replaced by endless empty landscapes. It was a long drive. The news from the radio was replaced by jazz music, her phone kept ringing but she didn't mind it all. A blinding light changed the overall aura of the surroundings as she made a sharp turn heading to what seems like a motel. Why here of all places? It looks like a rundown. Is someone still living here?

I followed her to what seems like an endless hallway, the smell of cigarettes and weed in the air as the sounds of grunting and bed squeaking can be heard. She inserted a key on the last door to the right, opening it and switching the lights on. “Stay here for a while.” She whispered before casually entering the room. It smelled like roses. Her scent.

“Do you live here?” She shook her head, handing me a bottle of beer. Then why does she look so comfortable here? She removed her coat and casually throwing it to the couch in the middle of the room. Her arms filled with bruises and scars. “What happened?”

She shrugged, disappearing to another door and I took time to look around. A large window covered with dark curtains, bottles of beer on the floor under the table. I even saw underwear which made me immediately turn around. There was a sound of murmuring from inside the room, she might be on a call with someone.

I took my phone out of my coat pocket which revealed countless calls and even messages asking where I was. In annoyance, I just closed my phone and return it to the pocket where my fingers grazed at something sharp. The earring. The gold flower earring. It’s a woman.

“A woman killed him.” I immediately told Y/N when she went out of the room. “I’m certain of that.” She glanced at me in question. “Maybe his wife.”

“Mrs. Hall? She’s so kind.” She claimed. “Why would she do that?”

“Because he’s seeing someone else.” The statement obviously came as a surprise to her. Doesn’t she know? “Senator Hall is seeing another girl in that jazz club.” Her eyebrows were scrunched to focus on my words. Then it came. That girl. She was beside me before I took a shot of my drink. She might have put something in my drink. She listened as I narrate everything to her, no one can help me with this shithole but her. I need to clear my name and find who really killed the senator.

She bit her lip. “Do you really think she did it? The jazz singer?” I nodded. It’s only her or his wife. “I’m meeting Mrs. Hall tomorrow. I’ll try and look at this.” She rolled her eyes. “This is supposed to be your job.” I apologized. It really is. But my hands are tied now. I can’t do anything.

The death was all over the news. My face plastered on every newspaper and wanted poster. How quick are they to assume that I killed the senator? Should I just come clean and tell them that I don’t have a gun? That I don’t smoke?

With nothing to do, I laundry my bloody clothes and some of Y/N’s things. Lightly tidying up her motel room. Why would a girl like her live in a place like this?

And as I reached out from under the couch, I found out exactly why.

It’s almost midnight yet she isn’t back. Maybe she isn’t coming here tonight. So I settled to bed, removing the dirty shirt I have been wearing the whole day. The incessant pounding of the bed on the wall from the other room only made me annoyed and, well, disturbed. I can’t fucking sleep. The moans got louder, mattress squeaking that made it unable for me to focus on just sleeping. Fuck! I’m very well disturbed.

My hand slipped inside my pants, finger tracing the outline of my member while thinking of a certain girl in red lace underwear. Hand wrapped around the hard rod, I started stroking while creating soft moans along with the sound of sex next door. “Y/N,” I whispered and a gasp can be heard that made me open my eyes. She’s in the doorway, looking at me in surprise. Fuck! Immediately, I removed my hand from my pants then stood up from the bed that made me light-headed. “It’s not what it looked like. I…”

“Yuta,” she called. A sound that rang like a melody in my ears. There were tears in her eyes, a bruised lip, and a cut on her cheek. The reason why she’s staying in this motel room. Why that ring is under the couch. “I don’t want to come back to him anymore.” She choked on her tears.

Y/N’s cries got louder as I wrap my arms around her. “Then don’t come back to him,” I whispered. How long was this? Why isn’t she speaking up about this? Why is she hiding here? “I’ll protect you, Y/N.”

She stared right into my eyes. And I knew that very moment I shouldn't have let myself be taken by her good looks and smell. I realized that she was the kind of trouble I was looking for. The kind that would give my life a sense of purpose.

My hunches might be right seeing how there are bruises and scars all over her skin. How can a confident girl be this fucked up? Now, I have more reasons to clear my name. "When everything clears up, stay with me." I whispered then kissed her bare shoulder. My lips went to hers, gently kissing the bruises and cuts in her skin as if I could erase them. My arms trying to give her the warmth she needed.

When I woke up, she was nowhere in sight. Her car wasn’t outside as well, she must be off to work. The news is different now, something about the stocks dropping and the murder of another man in town. Maybe I can come outside now. But where should I go? There isn’t any diner or restaurant near the motel, even a store where I can buy food. I’ll have to wait for her to come home and wish that she brought food.

Luckily, Y/N did. Sushi. Along with the take-out foods is an envelope that contains papers inside. A picture is inside the brown file, the girl from the jazz club. “Is she the one you’re talking about?” I nodded. Although her clothes are different and with a lesser make-up on, she’s obviously that girl. There were details about her, her name and her address. “Do you think she killed the senator?”

“Why would she drug me if not?”

“That’s not enough evidence, Yuta.” She’s right. It really isn’t enough evidence to name her the suspect. Shit! Is there anything I can do to clear my name? “I’ll try and watch her, maybe I can get some answers.”

I moved closer to her, holding her in my arms. If we’re going to clear my name, she wouldn’t be doing this alone. She’s been through a lot. “I’ll come with you.” When she kissed my lips, I already knew her answer.

She was exactly that girl in the bar. My eyes can’t fool me. It’s a high possibility that she is the killer now that we’re watching her smoke a cigarette. All we need to do is get her alibi and see if she has a gun. But I'm positive that she is the killer. Why would she put poison in my drink? Why me?

Is it to frame me? She doesn't know me. Is it obvious that I'm a detective at first glance? Which came to my first question, why me?

That question still lingered in my mind. It's been a week since we saw the girl. Y/N would always leave in the morning and come back each night with new information about the Senator's case. She had been working closely with the lawyers and the police about the case, updating me of recent findings. "Can I come out now? Tell the police everything I know about the case?" I asked while brushing her hair, her head laying on my arm. "I have enough evidence."

"Evidence?"

"An earring," I whispered and she jolted to sit, looking at me surprised. "I saw an earring at the scene of the crime."

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" She picked up her discarded clothes in a hurry. Why? What’s wrong? But before I could ask anything, she had already left.

The news of the senator’s death was once again on the headlines but this time, my face isn’t the one flashing but the jazz singer’s as the suspect. She admitted to the crime, saying that she had been threatening the senator since he promised that he’ll buy her out of the club. Fantasia club is now under a lot of criticism for prostitution and the unethical labor of the workers. A gun with a silencer was found in her possession, the weapon used for the crime.

My picture flashed on the screen, not as a suspect, but as the detective who solved all of this.

There’s only one thing to do now. Go back to my normal life.

Journalists all came to the office and asked me a lot of questions. The newspaper was filled with pictures of me, claiming that I’m the best detective in town and the phone kept ringing endlessly in the office. I smiled, it hadn’t been a typical day even if I didn’t put an extra cube of sugar in my coffee.

I was on a call with a journalist from the local newspaper when two uniformed personnel came inside my office. “Detective Nakamoto, we need your help.” And I knew, this is something serious.

Maybe it already happened two times. I have been to this place before. Thrice. I have been here thrice. The mansion of the Chairman of Otto Holdings. It was his wife who asked me to come here before. Now, the reason was him.

The officials informed me about the corpse, stabbed in the stomach then shot in the head. The killer wants him dead, I’m sure of that. I saw him a couple of times before and he is a tall man. If someone were to kill him by stabbing his stomach, that person might be close to him. Who would do this? His wife? But she’s already living abroad. His lover perhaps? Someone working for him?

“Reports said that he’s here with his daughter. We’re trying to locate her.” He had a daughter? They showed a plastic bag with the pieces of evidence found at the crime scene: strands of long hair, cigarette butt, a bullet. Familiar shreds of evidence.

They let me look around his office, the place polished in cleanliness except for little splotches of blood on the carpet. Old marks of blood. On one side of the wall were torture devices: floggers, leather whips, handcuffs, and wooden cane. Either he’s into serious sexual acts or he’s just a demon who loves torture.

A picture hanging on the wall took my attention. A happy family. The young-looking chairman was standing behind his estranged wife who looked really happy and youthful. On her lap is a young girl with such angelic features. Bright shining eyes. Then a familiar thing caught my attention.

The gold flower earring was shining on my hand. The same earring the little girl is wearing in the picture. Why do I feel like I’ve been chasing the wrong suspect all along? I drank some beer, seated by the edge of my desk when the door opened. Before I could tell that the office was closed for the day, a strong scent of a woman’s perfume hit my nose. Roses. The familiar smell of roses. Y/N.

She removed the black coat she had on, revealing a red wrap-around dress that shows some skin below her neckline and stops midthigh. Her hair has gotten shorter since the last time I saw her. Lips deep red. Her heels click-clacking against the hardwood of my office. A sheer lace thigh-high stocking completed her look.

Her hand slipped on my neck, leaning close to whisper in my ear “Long time no see, hotshot.” My heart beating wildly against my chest. Her smell. That addicting smell. Her lips went to mine. Her taste. A deadly combination of alcohol, cigarette, and mint. “I missed you, Yuta.” She whispered in that erotic voice, fingers heading south my shirt.

I took the glass of alcohol to relieve the parching of my throat, finishing the contents before holding her by the waist. “It’s you, isn’t it?” A smirk escaped her lips. “You killed the chairman.” I should have been aware the moment it smelled like roses in the chairman’s house. “You’re his daughter.” The same eyes as the girl in the picture. “Why…?”

My chest suddenly felt tight. Like someone just punched my heart. I gasped for air. Mouth burning as if on fire. She just sat on the chair, crossing her legs while watching me. “Because he promised mom that he’ll take care of me.” She flexed her fingers, checking her nails. “I hate people who don’t fulfill their promises.”

Promises. The same thing the jazz singer said about the senator. “You…” I coughed blood. “You also killed the senator.” It makes sense now. She came to me. She wanted me there. She pretended to help me. The earring. Her reaction. The taste of mint and cigarettes. “Why? Why me?” My legs feel numb that I fell on the floor.

“Isn’t it your fault why mom left my dad? Why I’m in hell because of him?” It wasn’t a husband. It was her dad. He really is a monster. “Think of this as a little gift. You’ve became famous. Everyone will know that you died.” Her fingers glide on the edge of the desk, placing a small white pill beside the glass. “They just wouldn’t know how.”

I called for her name but she just stared at me with an evil look in her eyes. “I sincerely liked you, Yuta. I even believed that we could be together.”

“We can.” But every word felt like a thorn in my chest. “I love you.”

The corner of her lips curled up, kneeling beside me. “But you’re also like them. Promising things and not actually doing it.” I grasp her arm, words not coming out of my mouth. She took her phone. “Mrs. Hall, the work is done.” She stared right into me with cold eyes. “Detective Nakamoto is gone.”

Her lips were as red as rose as she smirked at me. Her dress, red. The color of blood.

The memory of when I first saw her came to me. The same smell of roses. The gold flower earrings on her ears. The same color as blood telling me that she’s bad news.

I should have listened.

But it’s too late.

She is indeed trouble.

The kind of trouble that will be the death of me.

Like a sweet poison. She’s a poison. Addicting. Deadly.

And then everything went black.

#neo city noir collab #yuta #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta #yuta angst #yuta nakamoto angst #nakamoto yuta angst #detective yuta #yuta au #nakamoto yuta au #yuta nakamoto au

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drabbles-mc · 4 years

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Unfinished Business

Angel Reyes x Reader

Warnings: language, sex, oral sex

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I haven’t written smut in so long, but I’ve read so many good fics in the fandom that it inspired me to give it another shot. So, enjoy some dominant, angry Angel Reyes 🤤

It had been well over a week since you had spent any real quality time with Angel. You understood why he was busy—between the club and his family he hadn’t had more than a few spare minutes here and there to text you, or stop in quickly on his way home to say goodnight before taking off again. You weren’t mad about it, but you weren’t happy about it either.

But things were finally starting to calm back down for him. And yet, he had yet to reach out and ask to come over, or ask you to come and see him. You were patient and understanding but you were also needy. So you decided to take matters into your own hands. You knew that everyone was going to be at the clubhouse tonight, a miniature celebration of making it through a stressful couple of weeks, and you were going to make a guest appearance.

You leafed through your closet, deciding on a low-cut black tank top and a tight dark green mini-skirt. Angel loved it because it matched his bike, and you liked it because Angel’s pupils would double in size every time he saw you wear it. You slipped on a pair of black Converse and set off to do your hair and makeup.

You rolled into the scrapyard before the guys were back, which was exactly what you were hoping for. You parked your car, grabbed your purse, and made your way over to the clubhouse. It was sunny and silent, a very different vibe than what it was going to be in a couple hours when everyone was back home and ready to decompress.

Chucky was the only one to be seen when you strode in. He smiled and waved to you, “Hey, Y/N. No one is back yet.”

You smiled, nodding, “I know. I just got here early to take care of a few things. Plus, I can help you set up! What do you need me to do?”

He smiled, shaking his head, “I can’t ask you to do that. Angel would—”

“Angel isn’t here, is he?” you cut him off with a smile, “So, how can I help you, Chucky?”

He shifted on his feet, trying to figure out how to navigate these waters, “I need to go and get a liquor delivery. Can you stay here and keep an eye on the clubhouse for me? I should be back in less than an hour.”

You nodded, “You got it. Go do what you gotta do, Chucky.”

He gave a single nod, “You are the real Angel.”

You laughed to yourself as you watched him walk out of the clubhouse. You loved all of the guys, of course, but there was something so enjoyable about every exchange you had with Chucky. You never wanted to see him leave.

You took advantage of Chucky’s absence to set your plan in motion. You slipped off to the bathroom. It was tight quarters, which was the thing you hated most about the clubhouse, but you could make it work. You locked the door and set your phone up to record yourself. You set the phone on the one shelf in the bathroom that held a couple extra rolls of toilet paper, and then perched yourself up on the sink counter, feet resting on the closed toilet lid, making sure the camera got just enough of an upward angle to see clearly up your skirt. You dug around in your purse for a moment, smiling evilly to yourself as your fingers landed on your small bullet vibrator. You tossed your purse to the floor and hit the self-timer on your phone to start recording.

The bathroom and clubhouse were both silent. You smirked into the camera before making a show of slowly hiking up your skirt, exposing the small piece of pink fabric that was passing for your underwear. You turned on the vibrator, the sound seeming so loud against the silence of the small room that you were in.

You lowered it, lightly tracing it over the outside of your panties, gasping at the initial contact. Your body instinctively moved to grind against the vibrator, letting out a low moan. You knew you weren’t going to be able to hold out for very long—you hadn’t been touched by Angel or yourself in ten days and your body was screaming for a little bit of release.

You turned the intensity up on the vibrator, letting out a raspy, “Fuck,” as your body began to tremble. Your panties darkened and dampened from your arousal, and it was taking every last bit of self-control to not let yourself come right then. You bit down hard on your lip, “Mmm,” you threw your head back, “fuck, Angel, I miss you.”

It had only been a couple minutes but you knew you were going to have to tap out. You looked straight into the camera as you pulled your panties to the side, “Too bad I’ll have to cum without you,” you slid the vibrator inside of you and moaned loudly.

What started off as a tease for Angel vey quickly turned into some overdue relief for yourself. Between the feeling of you pumped the vibrator in and out, and the vibrations themselves, it was only a matter of moments before your eyes were rolling back in anticipation of your orgasm. You fought the urge to scream as your core tightened, legs locking up as your body finally got a sweet sense of release. You felt light-headed as you turned the vibrator off, trying to catch your breath as you slowly pulled it out of you.

You looked back into the camera, repositioning your underwear and sliding the vibrator in and out of your mouth, tasting yourself. You leaned forward with a satisfied smirk, “I’ll see you soon, Amor,” stopping the video.

Before watching it and sending it, you wanted to straighten yourself out first. You hopped down, fixing your skirt and checking to make sure your hair and makeup were still okay. You washed off your vibrator, putting it back in your purse with a chuckle. You grabbed your phone and left the bathroom, no one would ever know you were in there.

You took a seat at the bar, and after a quick rewatch of the video to make sure he would be able to hear you, you set about sending a text to Angel. Your fingers flew across the keyboard, “Since you haven’t been around to take care of business, I had to do it myself xo” you attached the video and sent it on its way. Your whole body was trembling for more than one reason now as you anxiously awaited an answer.

About five minutes later your phone buzzed, a notification for a text from Angel appeared on your screen. Your hands shook as you opened it, wondering what you were getting yourself into, “Better make sure those panties are off by the time I get home if you want me to fucking take care of business”

You let out a shudder, but didn’t respond to him. It’d be more fun this way. In the meantime, Chucky returned and the two of you got the place set up for everyone’s return. There wasn’t a whole lot to be done, but between the two of them it all got finished rather quickly.

Another hour or so ticked by, and more people had filtered in to be part of the action once everyone was home again. The music was on and people were already drinking, but you were scrolling through your phone when you heard the deafening sounds of the whole club arriving back at the clubhouse. You tossed your phone in your purse, placing the bag behind the bar where it wouldn’t get lost in the shuffle. You stood up, straightening yourself out before the guys all walked in.

Everyone was all smiles as they crossed the threshold of the clubhouse. You greeted all of them with smiles and hugs. You had caught Angel lingering at the back of the pack and you were wondering if that was calculated or not.

You stepped over to him to give him a hug and a kiss, but didn’t even get the chance. He spun you around and began firmly guiding you across the expanse of the clubhouse, “Bathroom, now,” he growled. Your whole body felt like it was on fire just from those two words.

He pushed you into the small room, closing and locking the door behind the both of you. You laughed, “Not even a hello?”

“Yea, you think you’re real fuckin’ funny, don’t you?” he backed you up against the sink counter. He had at least a foot on you, a height gap you usually tried to close with heels. You craned your neck back to look him in the eye. His expression read as angry but you could see the look in his eyes—he had been fighting the urge to take you right in the middle of the clubhouse. His hand crept around your throat and he applied the slightest bit of pressure, “You think I can’t take care of you?”

Your knees were already weak, but you weren’t going to give in that easily, “You certainly haven’t been.”

His grip on your neck tightened, “Better watch that fuckin’ mouth, Y/N, it’s gonna get you in trouble.”

“What’re you gonna do?” you smirked at him, loving every second of this game.

He let go of your neck, using both hands to yank your skirt up and heft you up onto the counter. The speed and ease with which he was able to toss you around never ceased to amaze you, and turn you on. His hands strayed down to your now-exposed hips. His fingers wrapped around the thin fabric of your underwear. “What’d I say about these?” he leaned in and growled into your ear.

Before you could respond he ripped them off, tossing them to the side, causing you to gasp. You reached for his belt but he grabbed your wrists, able to hold them both tightly with one hand. He leaned in, taking in your scent as his other hand cupped your face. The feeling of his beard against your neck made you break out in goosebumps. He kissed and sucked on your earlobe for a moment before asking, “You want me to take care of you, Princesa?”

You knew you were in for it when he started calling you that—that pet name was reserved for when you were being especially bratty. “Yes,” your voice was barely above a whisper.

Without another word he dropped to his knees, pulling you close to him by your hips. You braced yourself on the counter, whimpering in anticipation. His breath was warm against your thighs and core. You gripped his shoulders, pushing him into you. He let out what you assumed was a laugh as he pressed his tongue and lips against you. You moaned, nails digging into him as his tongue repeatedly went over your clit.

“Make me cum, Angel,” you begged.

He reached up, sliding two fingers into your mouth. You moaned, wetting them for him. He brought his hand back down, sliding his fingers in and out of you as his tongue continued to work you over. Your cries grew louder, and there was no doubt that the clubhouse was hearing you call his name, and Angel loved it. He slowly rose to his feet, still pumping his fingers into you. He pressed his lips hard onto yours, stifling your moans with a kiss for a moment before straying to your neck and leaving marks there for the rest of the world to see.

“Cum for me,” it was an order, and one that you were happy to oblige to. You gripped the back of his head, pulling his lips to yours in a heated kiss as you came.

“I love you, Angel,” you were trying to catch your breath still.

“Mmm, I love you too, Y/N, but we’re not done yet.”

“You said you wanted me to take care of business,” his hand was back at your throat, “We’re only halfway there. You still gotta pay up for that little stunt earlier, you know.”

He let go of your neck, guiding your hands to his belt buckle. You were still seated on the counter, hands shaky from everything you just experienced. You fumbled for a moment but were able to get the belt undone. You also undid the button and zipper on his jeans, nearly salivating as you tugged them down slightly. You lightly traced his erection through his boxers, causing him to gasp.

He pulled you off of the counter and spun you around so you were bent over it instead. He leaned close to your ear, “Enough teasing from you.”

You heard the sound of his jeans and boxers hitting the floor around his ankles. He lightly traced his fingers between your legs, your pussy still dripping. He let out a low chuckle as he lined himself up at your entrance. Your breathing wavered in anticipation. He slowly started to push into you, both of you letting out moans of pleasure.

He started thrusting into you slowly, pulling out almost all the way before filling you up again. You could hear him cursing under his breath about how good you felt, and it made your knees weak. The slow pace was torturous but you loved it.

Then, just as you were adjusting to the pace, he slammed into you. You yelped in surprise and he quickly wrapped a hand around your throat, applying pressure. “This is what you wanted, right?” he grunted as he continued fucking you over the counter, “Isn’t that right, Princesa? You wanted me to come home and take care of business?”

He let go of your throat and you coughed, trying to catch your breath. You were lightheaded from a mixture of the overstimulation of him fucking you and also the lack of blood that was getting to your brain while his hand was around your neck. Your hands gripped the edges of the counter as his fingertips dug into your hips, pulling you back against him over and over. His hold on you was the only thing keeping you from collapsing to the floor.

He smacked your ass, “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” it was half-whisper, half-moan.

“Fuck, Y/N,” his voice was raspy, “You’re gonna make me cum.”

You felt his grip tighten even more as he continued to pound you. He let out a moan as he came inside you, making your knees finally give way. He was able to brace and keep you somewhat upright. He let out a chuckle as he pulled out of you, lifting you so that your back was pressed flush against his chest. You sank back against him with a shaky sigh.

“Is ten days too long, Y/N?” he whispered in your ear. All you could do was nod in response, earning another laugh from him. He spun you around and kissed you hard on the lips before letting go of you and pulling his pants back up. He slowly slid his hand up your thigh and between your legs, “Better clean yourself up, Amor. We still have a party to go to.”

#angel reyes #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x reader #mayans mc #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fanfic #mayans fx #mayansmc #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc x reader #my writing #angel reyes drabble #angel reyes smut #drabblesmc

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honeypiehotchner · 4 years

Text

i knew you (Bucky Barnes soulmate AU) -- part six

I keep forgetting to post this story OOPS

Warnings: panic, general self-deprecating thoughts, unrequited love thoughts, maybe slightly ooc!Tony, I think that’s all

Sam, Steve, and who you learn to be T’Challa, now King of Wakanda after his father died in the bombing at Vienna -- which makes his obsession with clawing Bucky’s eyes out make much more sense -- are shoved in a vehicle alongside you.

You have no idea what they did with Bucky -- other than he’s still alive -- and you have no fucking clue where you’re going, but the ride is long. Too long to be in a car with Sam and Steve, especially with Sam trying every second he can to get on T’Challa’s nerves.

“So you like cats?”

“Shut up, Sam, please, for once in your life,” you groan from your spot next to him.

Even Steve gives him a look.

“What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat and you don’t wanna know more?” Sam asks.

“Your suit…” Steve narrows his eyes. “It’s vibranium?”

“What is that?”

You don’t get an answer.

“The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. A mantle, passed from warrior to warrior. And now, because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of King. So, I ask you, as both King and warrior,” T’Challa pauses. “How long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?”

The silence is deafening.

“It wasn’t him,” you blurt, earning yourself a glare. “Laugh at me all you want, but it wasn’t Bucky that killed your father. Don’t get revenge on the wrong man.”

T’Challa turns to face forward, refusing to say another word.

You do the same, instead focusing on what Bucky is feeling. You wonder if he can feel just how pissed off and panicked you are. You’re pissed, of course, because all of this fighting wasn’t necessary. You jumped off buildings for that man, and he still insists that he doesn’t know you.

Maybe you’d be able to write it off as a dreadful miscommunication for the past decade of your life, but you can’t. Not when you can physically feel that he is lying. The tightness in his chest doesn’t lie. Neither do his eyes.

But God, you wish they could.

You turn your head to hide your quivering lip. The last thing you need is to break into a sobbing mess in the back of this vehicle with three men surrounding you — especially when one of them was just trying to kill the same soulmate you’re upset over.

You know it’s not true, but part of you does wish Bucky was dead.

It was a lot easier on you to fantasize and dream about him when you thought he was dead.

+++

The government facility in Berlin looks far more secure than anything you’ve ever seen. Having guards posted all around when the four of you step out of the vehicle almost seems like overkill. They already took your weapons, what are they expecting any of you to do?

You glance over your shoulder to see Bucky in a small container. Your heart breaks at the sight of him, being restrained and in such a tight space. But the fact that he won’t even look your way breaks your heart even more.

“What’s gonna happen to him?” Steve asks, having the courage to voice what you want to know.

“Same thing that ought to happen to you,” the man replies. He’s short and wears a gray suit. It’s hard for you to take him seriously as an authority figure when it looks like his pants need to be hemmed. “Psychological evaluation and extradition.”

You cross your arms over your chest, keeping your mouth shut. Sharon stands next to the man, but at least she looks like she’s on your side — or Steve’s, since she obviously has a thing for him.

“This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander—” Sharon begins introducing him, but you stop her.

“A guy too big to introduce himself?” You raise an eyebrow. “Wow.”

Everett barely smiles, but it isn’t friendly. “Yeah, uh, who the hell are you?” It’s taunting, but you’re too exhausted to give in.

“No one,” you wave your hand, letting Steve keep going.

“What about a lawyer?”

Everett finds that about as amusing as your sentence. “A lawyer, that’s funny.” He turns to address Sharon. “See that their weapons are placed in lockup.” Then turning to the four of you, he says, “We’ll write you a receipt.”

As if on cue, men pass by holding Steve’s shield and uniform, Sam’s wings, and your gun and bullet proof vest. You had almost gotten away with the vest, but once they felt it, they wanted it off -- probably afraid it had some explosive inside it. So, now you’re without your protection, and you miss the weight of the vest. Something about it soothed the ache inside you.

Sam looks ready to burst at the seams. “I better not look out the window and see anybody flying around in that.”

You’re ushered forward by some guards and you go without resisting. You see Steve take one more look at Bucky, but you don’t bother. No sense in looking at someone who doesn’t want to see you, anyway.

Everett walks ahead, leading the way across a glass bridge to the other side of the facility. “You’ll be provided with an office, instead of a cell.”

“How kind,” you snort.

He ignores your comment. “Do me a favor: stay in it.”

You roll your eyes. What does he expect you guys to do? Start a fight when the ratio of unarmed super-soldier to heavily armed guards is about 1 to 1,000 in here?

Natasha joins the group, giving you a particularly cold stare before talking to Steve. “For the record, this is what making things worse looks like.”

You manage a chuckle. She has a point, after all.

“He’s alive,” Steve says matter-of-factly.

Yeah, you think. A lot of good that’s doing to everyone.

By the time you reach the other side of the bridge, you’re ready to ask T’Challa to claw your eyes out instead. You won’t even put up a fight. You’re just tired of holding these tears back and feeling this burning pressure in your chest. You don’t know if it’s yours or Bucky’s emotions at this point, all you know is that you want to be left alone.

The weight of it all is crushing down on you now that there aren’t guns firing at you.

He doesn’t want you.

Your soulmate doesn’t want you.

Fuck.

You wipe a stray tear away, spotting Tony Stark up ahead. Tony seeing you cry is not something you ever want to happen, so you chew on the inside of your cheek instead, hoping you can slip past him quick enough that he won’t notice.

But, of course, that’s too much to ask for when you’ve got Sam and Steve next to you. And when the three of you are now criminals.

“Colonel Rhodes is supervising clean up,” Tony says to someone on the phone. But, because he’s Tony, he has to glare at the three of you while he says it. “Consequences? You bet there’ll be consequences. Obviously you can quote me on that because I just said it, anything else? Thank you sir.”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. Here we go.

“Consequences?” Steve inquires, very obviously not giving a damn from the sounds of his tone.

“Secretary Ross wants you prosecuted,” Tony pauses, looking pointedly at you. “All of you.”

You glare at him. “I wasn’t expecting to be an exception, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“That’s not what I was thinking,” Tony replies, always having to have the upper hand. “What I was thinking, is that when I paid for you to have top of the line combat training, I didn’t mean for you to use it on something like this.”

“For God’s sake,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring Steve and Sam’s bewildered stares. You should’ve known he’d use this moment to blast your secret to everyone.

Your training is something you kept under wraps because naturally, if someone knows you’re going to be a challenge, they normally take it. You wanted to be as off the grid and as normal appearing as you could, so you quietly trained while loudly posting about your degree and only your degree. No pictures with Sam or Steve in them when they’d come to visit. Just you or your best friend, nothing more. You wanted to appear as though you were staying out of the way of any and all affairs that could deal with The Winter Soldier. You knew you’d be left alone if you acted as if you didn’t care. You even went on random dates and posted about them. You slipped under everyone’s radar just like you wanted.

“I’m not doing this right now,” you push past Tony in search of an empty office.

“No, I think we are doing this now,” Tony pulls you back by your arm, which you wrench out of his grip immediately. “I paid for those classes so you could defend yourself, and now you’re a criminal. How do you think that makes me look?”

“I don’t know. Grab a goddamn mirror. It’ll tell you.”

Your sarcasm only fuels his anger. “Listen to me—”

“No, okay?” Your voice cracks and you hate it. You hate the way Steve has been looking at you, like you’re about to break into a million pieces right on the floor in front of everyone. You hate that Tony thinks he can just lecture you about something he has no fucking clue about how it feels. You hate that Bucky doesn’t want you and you hate that he’s in a tiny box right now and that if you never would’ve met Steve two years ago then you wouldn’t be hurting like this right now.

Tony stares quietly at you, waiting for you to finish.

So, with as much strength as you can gather, you finish. “I’ve just jumped off buildings and almost taken bullets for my soulmate who does not even want me.” You pause to let it sink in. “So, if you don’t mind, I’d really love to go cry my eyes out for thirty minutes. You can lecture me after.”

Tony’s face falls and pales a little even, but you’re too exhausted to notice.

By some stroke of bad luck, Everett Ross happens to overhear your words. His dumbfounded expression comes into view and it takes all of your leftover energy to not deck him right in the jaw.

“Did I just hear you say that you’re his soulmate?”

“No,” you snap. “Because he doesn’t know me and doesn’t want to talk to me. So, sorry, you won’t get to weaponize me today. Now, do you have an office I can cry in? Or do I need to go find it myself?”

Stunned, Everett flounders for a response. “Uh, you can just pick an empty one.”

“Great,” you swallow around the lump in your throat, keeping your eyes on the ground as you finally escape from everyone around you.

The office is glass, so it isn’t like you’re getting much privacy at all, but it’s enough. You take the farthest one, turning to face the wall so no one else has to see your pathetic tears as they stream down your face.

Saying it out loud made it real.

Bucky doesn’t want you. He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t care what you feel. He doesn’t care that you’re his soulmate. He doesn’t want any part of any of it.

Your chest feels like it might rip itself open just for your heart to escape, and part of you wishes it could. You wish you could be without your heart and this soulmate business just for one day.

All those years. Thinking he’d want you.

The past two years. Rehearsing how to talk to him. How to make it work because you weren’t foolish enough to think it’d be easy. You knew it would be hard, that he’d be troubled with his own issues. But you never thought about the possibility of him straight-up rejecting you.

All of it. For nothing. For a soulmate who insists he doesn’t know you.

You try to muffle your choked sob as best you can, but you fail, the noise only causing more tears to fall. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He was brainwashed by HYDRA and you were stupid enough to hope that he’d want you in his life, that he’d remember you.

Maybe he doesn’t remember you. Maybe when they did something to his mind, it erased all of you.

But he remembers Steve, you remind yourself, and the hurt takes over once more.

You turn and press your back to the glass, shutting your eyes so you won’t see if anyone is watching you. You know how absurd you must look. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want you. What does any of it matter anymore?

You slide down to the floor, burying your face in your knees. God, it hurts. It hurts and it hurts and it hurts and you want it to stop. You wish you never went to that damn exhibit with your best friend. You wish you never knew about Bucky. Living in blissful ignorance was painful, but at least you had peace alongside the pain.

At least that image of your soulmate wanted you.

+++

Back outside, Everett watches your shaking form with a newfound worry. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“I don’t know.” Tony hangs his head. “Do you need me for anything?”

Everett glances at his watch. “No, actually I’ve got things to get to.” He disappears without another word.

Tony thinks it over, wondering if he should even go check on you. You’re like a daughter to him, though he’ll never admit that to you, and you’d never suspect it. The two of you hardly speak. You were surprised when he reached out about your protection. Steve had apparently mentioned you, and Tony being Tony, knew he had the money to make you feel safe.

And he did. The classes helped. Keeping everything about you, except what you wanted people to see -- that you were an Honors student, a well-supported, intelligent young woman -- a secret helped.

The two of you bicker. You argued when you first met. Tony wanted to pay for extra security, personal security that would follow you around. He wanted to move you from the college apartments to some fancier complex where he could control the security protocols. You turned him down, asked about classes. He compromised. But not without some off-handed, pissed-off remark, that you promptly replied to with, “Fuck off.”

You’re strong, he’ll give you that. Anyone else would’ve denied their feelings, sworn they weren’t the soulmate of the fist of HYDRA. But you embraced it. You knew you couldn’t change it. You knew you would get Bucky back one day -- your Bucky.

But you never would’ve guessed that he would’ve reacted this way. Shielding you from bullets while insisting that he has no idea who the hell you are.

His insistence is what hurt you the most. You had thought when you confessed that you can feel when he’s lying, he would’ve given in. That maybe he needed a confirmation, a reason to believe it was really you, because anyone can lie. Technology -- Stark’s, at least -- has advanced, anyone can look like whoever they want. You thought Bucky needed proof. But that wasn’t it.

He just didn’t care.

Tony watches as you turn around, pressing your back to the glass. Your eyes are closed, face wet with tears and hand pressed over your mouth. You slide to the floor, and that’s the last straw.

You look up when you hear Tony knocking on the glass.

Once you see it’s him, though, you put your head back in your hands. “I said thirty minutes,” you mumble. “I know damn well it’s only been ten.”

“Just shut up and come here.”

You look up again, your expression pained as if he just slapped you. Tony frowns. He’s making it worse when he wants to make it better.

“What do you want?” You ask tiredly, rubbing both hands on your face to wipe the rest of the tears away. You sniffle loudly, grimacing at the noise. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just come here.”

“What do you want?”

“To give you a damn hug,” Tony mutters, invading your personal space by sitting next to you on the floor.

You accept his hug, but only for a few seconds. That’s all you can take.

“Sorry,” you murmur, shrugging him off and scooting a foot away. “Anything that touches me makes me want to punch. I don’t know if it’s him feeling that, or me, but…” You sigh. “Regardless I’d just like for this to be over.”

“You and me both, kiddo,” Tony exhales, leaning his head back against the glass. “Why did you go with Cap and Sam?”

You shrug. “If it was Pepper...wouldn’t you?”

“Pepper wasn’t brainwashed by HYDRA,” Tony says. “And Pepper didn’t assassinate dozens of people.”

“But if she had, if it was Pepper in that box right now, wouldn’t you have done anything? Even if you knew it was a losing battle?”

Tony stays quiet, thinking. “Yeah.” He nods slowly. “I would.” Then he lets out a dry laugh. “I don’t think she’d put me in that position -- I think it’s more likely the other way around.”

You look over at him, frowning.

He sees you looking and sighs, closing his eyes. “We’re taking a break.”

That explains it. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. In her defense, I’m a handful.” Typical Tony. Deflecting his real feelings with humor. “Anyway, I’m sorry, too. Earlier. I shouldn’t have spilled your secrets like that.”

You shrug. “It’s whatever. It’s out there now. I’m sure Everett is thinking of every way he can to somehow get through to Bucky through me.” The mention of your soulmate has tears jumping back into your eyes.

Then a wave of panic rushes over you.

Your eyes shoot open and you scramble to your feet, moving to the farthest corner of the office to get a good look at the screens. Without audio, you can’t tell much, but that doesn’t make it any better.

“What wrong?” Tony asks, joining you.

“He’s panicked,” you murmur. “Where’s Steve?”

Tony doesn’t have time to answer you before you’re practically running out of the office to find Steve. You find him with Sam and Sharon in another office.

“Steve--” You stop when you hear the audio. It’s Bucky’s voice.

“Where’s Y/N?” He says. You look at the screen, thinking your ears have deceived you, but he says it again. “Y/N, I need to talk to her.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, noticing the look on your face.

“Something’s wrong,” you say, shaking your head. “I don’t know what. But he’s panicking. Or maybe it’s me. Something’s wrong.”

About that time, the power goes out.

Literally. Everywhere. Emergency lights coat the room in a soft blue glow, the red of the exits the only other light working in the place.

“Fuck!” You smack the table, looking to Sharon. “Where is he?”

“Sub-level five, East wing,” she answers quickly.

You don’t look to Sam or Steve, you just start running.

The slapping of footsteps behind you is the only indication you have that they’re following you. Tears spring to your eyes as another wave of panic comes over you, nearly choking you this time. Something bad. It’s something bad.

Anger comes next, burning in your chest. What the hell is happening? That psychiatrist -- what’s he doing to your Bucky?

Then you feel it.

It spreads throughout your whole body. The old feeling you had once forgotten. Two years is long enough to get used to Bucky and forget all about The Winter Soldier, but not long enough to not recognize it when it returns.

You push forward, running as fast as you can. You slow once you’re at the correct sub-level, waiting for Sam and Steve. You hold your hands up when they come into view.

Steve comes skidding to a stop. “What?”

“He’s not Bucky right now,” you say quietly, despite the thrumming in your ears. “He’s the Soldier. We have to be careful. I don’t know what happened, but I felt it.”

“Shit,” Steve cusses. “Okay.”

Back on track, the first sign that the Soldier is here is all of the guards lying unconscious on the floor. Inside the room, the psychiatrist sent to evaluate Bucky -- though you’re suspecting he isn’t the psychiatrist -- lies in the middle of the floor, barely conscious.

Steve walks in and drags the man up off of the floor, pinning him to the wall.

You’re right. He’s not who he says he is.

While Steve is handling him, you and Steve step up to the doorway, but you pause, pressing your arm to Sam’s chest.

Shit. He’s in there.

Sam either doesn’t catch your signal or doesn’t want you walking in by yourself, because he ignores you and steps into the room. Regardless, it earns him a punch to the face that he barely dodges.

“Bucky!” You scream, pushing Sam out of the way before Bucky’s metal fist can smash his head in. “Bucky, stop!”

But he doesn’t. He keeps going after Sam, and only stops once he has thrown Sam halfway across the room into the box he was kept in. Sam falls limply to the floor, unconscious.

“Bucky, look at me,” you plead, tears pushing to the front of your eyes, but you blink them away. “You have to come out of this!”

Bucky pushes past you, going after Steve this time. Well, you think. First, he knocks the psychiatrist out cold, but you don’t mind that. What you do mind is when Bucky focuses back on Steve, choking him up against the wall.

You try to pull on his arm, but you know it’s useless. He holds you back, keeping you away from him, but still not hurting you.

You think. Quick. What would help? Why isn’t he hurting you? He’s capable of handling more than one person, and you’re obviously provoking him in some way right now as you claw at his back. But still, he isn’t hurting you. Why?

A long shot of an idea pops into your head.

“Soldier!” You raise your voice, straightening your shoulders, hoping it’ll give you the look of an authority figure. “Soldier. I said stop.”

Steve hits the ground with a thud, coughing loudly.

“Soldier,” you repeat, keeping your voice even. “Look at me.” Slowly, Bucky turns around. He’s still the Soldier, but at least he isn’t trying to kill Steve. “What are your orders?”

“You give them.”

You blink. “What?”

“Orders are to protect you,” the Soldier says. “Keep you safe.”

Your breath hitches. You push away your emotions, thinking instead how you can use his orders to your advantage right now. You don’t exactly like using him this way, but you don’t have any other option when he’s a highly trained and chemically enhanced assassin.

“Steve is a friend.” You pause, nodding to Sam who is slowly coming back to consciousness on the ground. “So is Sam. Do not hurt them. Understand?”

Firmly, Bucky nods.

You look over your shoulder at Steve. “We’ve gotta get him out of here,” you say. “They’ll kill him if they find him like this.” Regardless of the fact that he’s listening to you.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, voice hoarse. He goes over to Sam, pulling him off the ground. He’s disoriented, but awake. “Come on. We gotta go.”

“Okay, Soldier,” you almost wince, hating talking to him like this. “Get us out of here. Can you do that?”

Again, he nods. His flesh arm wraps protectively around your waist, practically picking you up as he begins to walk.

You try your hardest to ignore the effect it has on your body, but you can’t help it. The combination of his strength and this being the most intimate way that he has touched you yet leaves you breaking out in a cold sweat.

“Wait,” you pause, and Bucky stops. “I’ll hold onto your arm,” you say, slipping his arm from around your waist. You grip his bicep, your other hand sliding into his. You hate to be doing this because you know once Bucky remembers, he’ll probably hate you even more for it. But right now, the Soldier won’t walk two inches without some sort of grip on you. “Is this better?”

The Soldier’s bicep flexes underneath your fingers. You swallow thickly. Maybe this was worse.

“As long as you’re safe,” is all he says, before continuing on.

You look back over your shoulder to find Steve watching with a sad smile.

You shove down the swelling sadness in your chest. You know this is the last time you’ll get to hold his hand, or hold onto him like this. But he can’t stay the Soldier forever. He needs to be Bucky again.

Even if Bucky is the one who doesn’t want you.

#i knew you #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky barnes soulmate au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #angst #angst city #all angst #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #the winter soldier #cacw

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kimberly-spirits13 · 4 years

Text

Infinity Factor (Request)

Pairing: Batfam x batsis

Synopsis: You were born with what many would call a curse. From the reality last, where characters like Batman and Wonder Woman are just characters and everything was “real”, you had just died and now, as a result you were living this curse once more and have just been born into another universe. What you don’t know is that you’ll have to die for those you love until all your time here is exhausted. Thus, creating the Infinity Factor.

Note: (This was Google Translated so feel free to correct me if I’m wrong but it’s in the story) ‘ukhti alhabiba = my beloved sister (Arabic) ‘akhi alhabiba = my beloved brother

Warnings: Mentions of death

Word Count: 2383

Bruce had found you on the streets of Gotham in the harsh winter during one of his nightly patrols. It was a routine thing to find the corpses of the homeless during this time which had desensitized him from any sort of event like this. What he wasn’t used to however was finding a screaming baby girl wrapped up in bundles of old cloth laying in the trash by itself with no other being around. That night, against all odds, you were alive. He took you home to Alfred’s care and immediately after that adopted you as he tends to have a habit of. ———————————————————————

The first time you died was saving your father from a gunshot fired by an estranged guest at one of the galas. It was in the middle of him talking to one of the CEO’s that was invited and you that terrible feeling something would happen. You knew from the start that something was off but figured that Bruce would have to know too. The moment you saw him pull the small revolver, this unknown force just made you jump in front of Bruce. The shot fired and you took it. From there, everything was pitch black. You knew you weren’t done yet since you didn’t immediately wake up somewhere unknown to you.

Instead, it was a miserable rest of the night for everyone else. You were rushed into the hospital and pronounced dead after only a few minutes upon arrival. The sounds of Bruce’s cries were what woke you up. Slowly light started flooding your senses and you heard the sudden starting of a heart monitor. Doctors came rushing in and the look of shock on your father’s face never your memories.

———————————————————————

From then on you were known as the “Miracle Child” of the Wayne family. You didn’t particularly care for the nickname seeing as this thing that you had going on was never really a miracle, however there were many more incidents that proved this name to be a fitting one for more and more people.

One by one, over the years Bruce had accumulated adopted many more children. All were at varying ages but you all came to know them as your family. This was the first real family you’d had in a considerable amount of lives and this time, you didn’t want to lose them. They didn’t want to lose you either. The curse that was bestowed upon you was like a double -edged sword. On one end, you might die for just a few minutes or even a day or two at most once you took a bullet, knife, sword, bomb, etc... for them. On the other hand, you might take that death and never wake up in this world. You lived every day in fear that something might happen to them thus, resulting in your own ultimate despise from this universe.

The family knew this well. Jason and Damian especially. For someone who was roughly around Tim’s age, you had died a total of 14 times. Every week dreams flooded your mind of either some strange world you might come to live in, or the tragic and often graphic ways in which you had previously parished. The dreams of new worlds were often enticing and enthralling, however the latter was not. On nights you did have those bad dreams, someone was there with you under most circumstances.

———————————————————————

This night wasn’t any different from past nights leading to this. It was a quiet night in Gotham during your own patrol. Nothing too strange was occurring and you certainly didn’t feel otherwise unsafe from the typical standard. Gliding from roof top to roof top, you were having the time of your life. It was an interesting aspect being on the ground below during the day but at night soaring above the tiny cars and street lights below.

You didn’t stop until reaching a building where Bruce had found you in the diamond district that fateful January’s night. Walking to the front ledge of the building, you looked down on the streets and alley ways below. You had a habit of really looking carefully and even staring at some spots getting lost in what things in the shadows might be. Maybe it was a trashcan that looked especially off, or sometimes it was a cat casting a strange shadow in the city light’s glow, however, you always saw it.

The unfailing and ever-present observation skills you picked up now were starting to register a different sound. It sounded as though someone were in great distress and the noise emanating from this signaled their near demise. Without a moment’s notice you could hear Duke’s voice coming onto the speakers. This was one of the nights that he decided to come on patrol since Steph had come down with the flu.

“Someone’s been shot in the 6th Street – 5th Street alleyway. I’ve got this one handled.” He said.

No time had passed from the end of that call to the moment you leaped off the building in the largest rush of your life, pulled by the same unknown force from so many times ago. Tears began to spring from your eyes knowing what was going to happen to you. You wiped your cheeks and carried on in pursuit of this killer so that Duke wouldn’t have to face what fate was so cruelly handing him if you weren’t quick enough. You knew that in consequence to what you were about to do, you’d be given his fate.

It was dark when you reached the alleyway, there were no signs of any beings but for the woman laid on the cold concreate ground below. You saw the pain in her eyes and knew that she wasn’t gone yet. With this curse came another trait, you knew when someone was close to death. She wasn’t near it, not yet at least. Before jumping down the building, you dropped a flash bomb. It wasn’t enough to seriously startle the woman, it was just enough for you to see where the culprit was fast enough so that you’d be able to get him. The moment the light went off, trashcans started to fall. You knew where he was and without missing a beat, you jumped into your death knowing full well what was waiting for you down there.

Duke wasn’t far behind. In fact, you had heard his calls and pleads not to go down there by yourself. Those were all obviously ignored seeing as you were now in the middle of a gunfight with two men. They didn’t seem to pose much of a threat compared to your training. It was the woman that knocked you off your guard some. You knew you had to get her to cover or she’d be shot by a stray bullet. That was Batman’s second rule. Don’t let bystanders be killed in your own fight. So that’s what you followed. With bullets flying and two fully grown men screaming at you to give up, you dragged her out of the way and into a safe place where the brick wall would give her cover as long as she didn’t move.

“The woman that’s been shot is behind the wall for cover. Do not come out, I repeat urgh!” Your line went dead.

Everyone listened in horror as a final gunshot went off. They heard what they hoped was you hitting the guy in the back of the head with his own revolver, and then a thud along with one other. They knew what that second thud was. It was Duke who found you dead, in a pool of your own blood. Next was your oldest brother, and then Bruce. They all kept coming until finally, Damian was there crying into your shoulder, your own blood now staining his costume darker red.

No one spoke the rest of the way home. Bruce had you in the Batmobile to take you to the cave. Alfred was notified to open the room in which your body was to lay for at least three days. If you weren’t awake by then, you were certainly dead. In you went, each leaving and revisiting one by one. It wasn’t that you wouldn’t be able to leave. Not at all. From inside, the door was unlocked and Alfred always left a note explaining that in case you awoke and didn’t understand what was happening. You always understood, sometimes it just took a while for you to really grasp what had happened.

———————————————————————

Hours and minutes ticked by. Every few hours or so, someone would visit outside your door and just stay there in either silence or in a conversation about their day. They knew you didn’t hear it, it was just nice feeling like you were still there in some way listening to their tirades on the idiot at the mall who didn’t know where they were going and was holding up the line. Or maybe it was someone at WE who wasn’t good at deals and negotiations and either wanted too much or demanded too little thus, a bargain was made almost at their expense. Either way, they always came to you to talk, even if you couldn’t answer back.

When you finally did awaken, the lights were dimmed as they usually are. Inside was the fresh smell of your favorite candle which smelled like Alfred’s cookies and a few inches from it as to not start a fire, was a hand- written note by Alfred himself explaining where you were and how to get out of the room. You stayed in silence for a bit, crying to yourself over what you had experienced. The wound in your chest were gone and only a scar was left. Another “plus” of this curse was that your wounds healed without assistance or closure.

Once the reality of it all had crept into your mind and you knew for certain that you were safe and home, you slowly opened the door. It was a bit brighter when the main part of the cave came into view. You wasted no time looking around for your family after using the bathroom that was downstairs close to where you were. They didn’t seem to be in the cave at the time being. Looking up at the bat-computer, you saw that it had been a full 27 hours since your death and right now, everyone should have been planned to be somewhere but for Damian, Alfred, and your father who would all be at home.

Carefully, you climbed up the stairs and into the room where Bruce had set the main entrance into. It was hidden away and separate from the clock but none the less, everyone in the family knew about it. You made your ways through the halls not really knowing where to find anyone. You didn’t need to go into your bedroom since you were already in clean and comfortable clothes from the night of your death. The wood floors felt cold under your feet which is something that took a minute or two to get readjusted to but none the less, you continued on not to be deterred by something that mundane and simple.

After not finding anyone in the lower wing of the house, you went upstairs straight to your father’s bedroom. You knew someone would either be there or in your room. Heading up the stairs, you found that there was no one in sight.

“Maybe I should call someone?” You thought.

Someone was always meant to be at the house when this kind of thing happened, however the manor was large and on many acres of land so even if there was someone there, you might not ever find them. You continued on back down the third flight of stairs and came to your own floor. Well, it wasn’t really your own floor, it was just where you room was. Slowly passing the opened doors of the other bedrooms just as Alfred kept them for air circulation, you made it to your room. The door was also wide open and the lights were not on.

Stepping into your room however, you were met by a tear stained, wide eyed boy. Damian sat staring at you, his green eyes dimmed and darker from what crying he must have been doing. He sat on your bed, wrapped in one of your own blankets that sat on the chair you used to read him stories in. Immediately after registering your very alive self, he jumped up practically tackling you to the floor.

“‘ukhti alhabiba!” He cried into your shoulder, “I m-missed you so much.”

The two of you held each other as close as possible which wasn’t hard considering he was still very small in stature at this age.

“I missed you too ‘akhi alhabiba.” You looked down at him and eventually up at Alfred and Bruce who had come from checking on you in the cave only to come up empty handed.

Both of the men dropped to the floor holding you tight. There were some words of welcome back and others of happiness in gladness of your resurrection, but mostly tears. Bruce had contacted the rest of your family by now and they were all on their way. You knew when they got back, it would be a house full of crying bats.

Now, only fifteen minutes later, everyone was there on the floor, huddling around you. You knew that you were safe in this moment. The smaller screams of joy in seeing you from your brothers entering the room made you sure of that. Damian hadn’t moved and Dick was latched onto you as well. You and Duke had almost had a facial expression conversation all including a sorry, gratitude, and a, “happy you’re back” moment. Jason wouldn’t really admit that he was sobbing that day even though everyone knew and Tim was so sleep deprived that he almost passed out upon seeing you. Either way, there wasn’t some crazy force pulling you into danger like those kind of this typically do. Instead, it was another even crazier and mind- boggling force that pulled you and your family closer together in the mourning a lost life, and finally the celebration of a restored one.

I had no idea where I was going to take this tbh lol. I had a good idea from the request but it wasn’t until I actually started writing that I was like ohhh okay. I hope you guys liked this one though, it was fun to write. Anyways, I hope you’re all doing great and staying safe and healthy. Have a wonderful day and rest of the week!

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peantutbutter · 3 years

Note

69. “We are not going to steal someone’s dog.” with Michael, Gavin and Jeremy please!

69. (nice) “We are not going to steal someone’s dog.”

Trigger Warning for brief mentions of animal abuse. Nothing is graphically explicit and everything turns out ok and the dog is rescued, but the thought of an injured animal is triggering or otherwise too emotionally distressing for you, go ahead and keep scrolling

The Mad Lad’s Animal Rescue Agency [ao3]

It’s odd.

As far as Michael knows, both Gavin and Jeremy are what he would consider cat people. Pets aren’t allowed in the penthouse, of course, but both get swept up in conversations about what they would name potential future cats, and both go out of their way to set out food and water for the strays of the city.

So when the two come to him cooing and gushing about a sweet looking pit bull they’ve met, Michael is a little astonished when they start telling him their plans for whisking her away in the dead of night.

“We’re not stealing someone’s dog,” he deadpans, and he can’t fucking believe that he has to say it.

“Awww, c’mon Michael, why not? Lookat her!” Gavin whines, shoving his phone in his face.

And, yeah, alright, she’s fucking cute — chocolate brown fur; a light pink tongue lolling out of her mouth; a tail that’s blurry because it’s wagging so fast; and large, shining brown eyes that are staring adoringly at Gavin in the selfie he’s taken — but Michael can’t just let his boys go off and steal a dog for no good reason. “Because it’ll shit all over the goddamn floor!” he argues. “Where are we gonna keep her, Gavin? We gonna make her ride an elevator every time she needs to take a piss?”

But the thing about Gavin is that once he gets something in his head, there’s really no stopping him. And with Jeremy involved, really, all Michael can do is hope to mitigate the inevitable collateral damage.

It’s ass o’clock in the morning when Michael pulls into what is possibly the most boring middle class neighborhood and parks across the street from a house that looks like the dozens of others surrounding it. He cuts the engine of their unmarked van and looks to Gavin and Jeremy making their last-minute preparations in the back. The entire vehicle smells like peanut butter and Gavin slaps Jeremy’s hand away from the bag of bacon he had fried up before leaving. “That’s not for you!” he hisses.

Jeremy pouts indignantly, but lets it be. They grab a pair of bolt cutters, while Gavin stuffs his pockets full of treats and clips various dog toys to his belt. A brightly colored rope dangles from his hips, and right beside it a squeaky chicken. He pauses for a minute, tennis ball in hand, and frowns thoughtfully, trying to figure out where to place it.

Ultimately, he sets it down, deciding that his skirt of toys is sufficient.

Jeremy pulls on a pair of gloves and grabs a leash dangling from a hook. They shoot Gavin an eager look, which he eagerly returns.

“You look like fucking idiots,” Michael says, because one: it’s true, and two: he apparently has a compulsive need to kill the mood if it’s stupid, like this one. Gavin and Jeremy just look at him, still smiling, mischief gleaming in their eyes. Michael rolls his eyes and waves his hand. “Go get the damn dog.”

The other two excitedly scramble out of the car and crouch-run their way across the street, like they’re on some sort of actual heist. Michael barely suppresses an eye roll. It’s not like the hazy moonlight or streetlamps are illuminating the street or anything. Idiots.

He watches them stealth their way to a chain-link fence. On the other side, Michael can make out what appears to be a ramshackle doghouse, and a tiny figure curled up just outside it. He can’t hear it, but he assumes Gavin whistles or does something to get the dog’s attention, because the figure’s head pops up and it pushes itself onto it’s legs.

Or at least it tries.

Jeremy is clipping away at the fence when Michael notices how the poor thing’s back paws are dragging uselessly along the ground. Her tail wags furiously as she crawls over to Gavin, but she isn’t moving very fast.

Oh. That’s why they’d been so adamant about doing this.

His knuckles turn white, and the steering wheel creaks under his grip. That familiar burn courses through his body, licking flames up and down his arms and legs. The vein in his jaw throbs, and he forces himself to take a deep breath. Going in and beating the owner senseless is tempting — “How does it feel, huh? How does it fucking feel? — but running in blindly, fists flying, would be reckless and stupid. And while he has his moments, tonight he’s the sensible one.

Or at least that’s what he tells himself. But when a light flicks on in the house while Jeremy is in the middle of unhooking the dog’s chain and latching their own, all of Michael’s self restraint leaves him. There’s a shadow moving throughout the house, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He pulls the baseball bat from the passenger footwell and tears out of the van.

Gavin exclaims loudly as Michael rips past.

“Get the dog outta here, I’ll cover you!” Michael yells, and his lifetime of hopping fences pays off as he effortlessly scales the wire structure. His feet land on the ground with a soft thump and gets into position on the other side of the sliding glass door. He chokes up on the bat, ready to swing.

Jeremy finally manages to slip the hook of their leash through the loop on the dog’s collar just as the door slides open. The man inside is screaming angrily, but Michael doesn’t hear what he’s saying. He’s more focused on how he’s going to make this dickbag scream for another reason.

The guy steps outside, not seeing Michael where he hides just behind him, and he reaches for something tucked in his waistband. The second Michael realizes it’s a gun, he pounces, striking the guy in the back of the knees and bringing the bat down on the guy’s back with a satisfying crack.

He fucking whales on the guy, letting all that righteous anger course through him. Each strike shakes his bones, and he’s pleasantly reminded why this is his primary weapon of choice. There’s something so deliciously personal about taking a guy apart with a big stick. He keeps swinging until he’s sure Gavin and Jeremy have pulled the poor pup to safety. The bastard is curled into the fetal position, and his gun, which Michael had kicked away, lay just out of reach.

The horn of the van blares — one of his lads letting him know they’re clear — and Michael brings the bat down for a final strike. It makes a wet crunch against the back of the guy’s head. He’s not one hundred percent sure whether the guy is unconscious or actually dead. He doesn’t particularly care. He’s got no love for people who beat their animals, and, frankly, he’s killed for less.

His arms burn, and as he wipes blood from his face, he realizes that the lights in the surrounding houses are flicking on. The sound of an approaching siren kicks him into gear. He scrambles over the fence — a feat more difficult now that his limbs feel gooey with exertion — and books it across the street.

The engine revs as Jeremy puts the key in the ignition. Sirens are growing closer, and tired civilians are emerging from their homes to see what the fuss is about. The doors to the back are wide open, and Gavin, gently cradling the dog, yells at him to “Hurry up!”

Michael flings himself into the back of the van, and Jeremy takes off like a bullet, tires squealing against the asphalt, leaving behind the scent of burned rubber.

They fly out of the neighborhood, and Jeremy takes a few random turns, shaking any potential pursuers off their trail. All the while, Gavin is cooing at the creature in his arms. “Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good Bella?” he asks. “Who doesn’t have to worry about that mean old man ever again? Yes, it’s you!”

He pets Bella until she calms down, mindful of her legs, which rest gingerly on the seat. Slowly, her eyes drift shut, and she falls asleep under his touch. He smiles softly, and Michael can’t help but do the same at the scene before him.

Then Gavin turns to look at him. “Thank you, Michael,” he murmurs, barely audible over the hum of the engine.

Michael shrugs. “Don’t understand why you didn’t tell me why you wanted to steal this guy’s dog in the first place.”

“Ah, well…” Gavin pauses for a moment, trying to figure out what he wants to say. “Lil J and I kind of figured you riding out your rage would be the best cover in case we got caught. And that’s something that only really happens in the moment. So we needed you going in blind.”

Michael stares blankly for a moment, blinking slowly, trying to understand the reasoning. “You didn’t tell me,” he says slowly, “because you wanted me to be pissed off enough to attack a guy in case he caught you.”

Gavin presses his lips together and nods. “Yeah.”

Michael scoffs and rolls his eyes. “You two are fucking ridiculous,” he says. Then his gaze travels towards the peacefully sleeping dog. “What are you going to do with her?”

Gavin shrugs. “Gonna get our medic to take a look at her and see what he can do. After that…I dunno, try to find a nice place for her to live. Fredo’s been saying he wants a dog, so maybe he’ll be willing to take care of her.”

“So you never planned on her living in the penthouse, did you?” Michael asks.

“Of course not, Michael boy,” Gavin answers easily. His eyes sparkle with humor. “We’re not gonna make her ride the elevator every time she needs to take a leak.”

#somegrumpynerd #fake ah crew #fahc #rexie writes #SEE i didn't forget about the prompts in my inbox!!!!#i just saved them for when i need to write without thinking about making /good/ fic #to just turn my brain off and write something

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guidedbygunpla · 3 years

Text

Gundam REDUX Side Story chapter 1

“dad, I’m so sorry, Honeydew tripped while we were out riding, she can’t get up. Dad what do we do” the young child called up to his father, an older man, twice the age of his wife, and ten times the age of his young son. “son, Honeydews leg is broken” his father said, cold and expressionless, looking at the horse laying in the mud mewing in pain. His son barely tall enough to ride it. Apparently too young for the responsibility.

“but the animal doctor can help her right? The man who came to give her her shots? He can fix it right” his son said, tears in his eyes pulling at the robe his father wore. Regal and clean, white and gold

“son he could set her leg yes, he could mend it and it could heal. But it will hurt her forever. She’ll never walk correctly again. She’ll never live a moment of her life not in pain again. The right thing to do is to put her down. “ he said crouching down and running his hands through his sons blonde hair.

“Cassie, go grab the rifle from the car…..it’s the right thing to do” His father said, his tone low and calm

“dad no! we can’t! I love Honeydew you can’t kill her!” he said tears pouring down his face

“I won’t kill her son….you have to do that, she’s your responsibility. She needs to know that you made her pain end”

His father went and grabbed the bolt action rifle from the back of the black limosene that sat at the front of the stable. The boy laid there holding the horses neck, trying to comfort them. His father came back, rifle in hand and put a hand on his shoulder

“Casval, it’s time.”

________________________________________________________

Char lay slumped against the control panel, his zaku buried slightly in the remains of the woods that the forest fire had left behind. Kentucky was still burning, and he was still far too close to the federations mobile suits to be safe. He couldn’t breathe, its like his throat had closed up on him, he was crying, but there was no gasp for air, just tears, tears and tense muscles.

“I killed him” he spoke, his voice a growl

“I killed Garma……why in the world did I kill him”

Images flew through his head, his father gasping for air on stage, as Degwin, Garmas father began to smile, standing at his side. The zabi soldiers pounding on his families mansion, his mother crying as he and his sister were taken away from her. Her face in the newspaper when he was on earth, Wife of famed cult leader Zeon Zum Deikun found murdered.

Garma the first day he met him, a fresh faced 19 year old. Didn’t even know how to tie a tie.

Soft skin, soft hair

That little way he twirled his hair when he was nervous

His sister crying for days after they landed on earth

Being trained on his place as the head of the family by a family friend Jimba Ral

Sneaking away from that life, taking the place of another family friend Charles Aznable, and flying away to a Zeon military academy

Why did fate have to do this to him

Why did I have to do this

Why did I have to kill him

He was shaking in his seat now, panic gripping him

They would find the camera data In his suit, or Garma or Grams suit, they would see his suit was pristine, and draw a conclusion, he had to do something

Chars hand shook nonstop as he pressed the button to open his hatch

“I need air”

He could hear his voice, but he didn’t feel like he was speaking

He pressed the button on the side of his seat to pop up the emergency maintenance system, turning his center monitor into a small keyboard.

“First things first, I need to wipe the video data……no but if I do that, they will be able to pull that from the black box” char slumped against his chair

What the fuck had he just done

Was this worth it?

An idea crept into his mind

He typed away at the keyboard pulling up maintenance logs, a picture of a beam saber wound left on another zaku.

“it just might work” Char said as he pressed away on his control stick, engaging the heat hawk and cranking its temp beyond its limiter, he raised the zakus arm twisted the heat hawk around and slid it into the body of the zaku slightly below his cockpit, melting the hard drives for camera, and audio recording. Now was the matter of the black box, it sat right below the pilot seat. Char grabbed the pilots helmet that sat locked in above him, slid off his captains helmet and then pulled the helmet down over him. He pressed the buttons to close the cockpit hatch. A few maneuvers of the control stick and infront of him his monitors began to melt, and crack as the heat hawk slipped through the wall that protected him from the outside world, he raised his feet up onto his seat, moved the hand and heat hawk away from the hatch, and opened the hatch again, he then took the leading edge of his heat hawk and slid it into the front of the cockpit, the heat was over whelming, but he watched his seat catch fire below him, and watched the side of the black box’s orange covering melt and bubble and then watched the boards inside of it become exposed, pop and bubble and catch fire as well

He pushed the control stick back fast, and stomped out the fire on his seat. The smell of the burning plastic and metal made him woozy.

“there, all the data is gone, now to sell this damage before the heat hawk burns up”

He began throwing the hawk into his suit wildly, and sheered off the left arm of his zaku. Char started laughing, as tears rolled down his face. He stumbled out of the Zaku and reached up and grabbed ahold of the climbing wire that hung inside the cockpit, and rode it down to the ground. It was cold out, despite the forest fire around them. Chars hands were still shaking, he reached around his dress uniform and found the pocket where he stored his cigarette case “keep saying I’m going to quit you” he said with a small laugh as he slid one between his teeth and used the lighter he kept in the case to light it. The smoke slowed his shaking, and his mind.

“he didn’t deserve that…” Char said, exhaling slowly “he was a good man, sure his dads a murderer, and he only got where he is because his dad murdered mine…..but” he stopped, taking a long drag “he didn’t deserve that……fuck…..Cassie what is wrong with you……ugh” he grunted as he threw the cigarette to the dirt, and rubbed it out with his foot. He heard a gun cock behind him

“Char, you have 10 fucking seconds to explain to me what just happened.” He heard, the voice was familiar it was Garmas wingman, Gram. “Gram now there is a perfectly reasonable answer……let’s be adults about this, no need to point a gun at me” Char said as he turned around and saw the man, he seemed to have broken his arm and his clothes looked to be badly burned

“fuck that Char, you shot down Prince Garma, and then I find you here in the woods carving up your own Zaku? The fuck could explain this?” “it’s easy, this will explain everything” Char said as he reached into his pocket and grabbed his officers tablet, and started to walk towards Gram, he saw gram lower the gun slightly, and then quickly with his other hand he pulled his side arm and shot gram!

The shot was sloppy, clipping Gram in the lung, Gram fired a shot off too, that caught Char in the bicep of his left arm

Gram lay on the forest floor gasping for air

Char clutched his arm, and approached Gram

“Gram you could’ve just walked away, you didn’t have to get involved….”

He saw Gram reaching for his side arm, Char kicked it away and stared down at the man gasping for air

“figure I could just leave you here, you’ll die before someone comes to get you, or I could end this fast for you….before I decide that though.... I want to tell you something Gram, see how you react” Char said staring down at the man who was trying to yell at him, but couldn’t find the air

“I killed Garma Zabi because when I was a very small child, his father, Degwin poisoned my father with Aconitum, I know that because while Kycelia Zabis Royal guard didn’t detect anything was amiss, Jimba ral found a large stash of it, and books on processing it in a fire place in my fathers former palace. I killed Garma so that Degwin would have to feel the pain I have lived my whole life feeling…..how does that make you feel Gram, am I justified in my actions or am I a monster?” Char said aiming the gun at Grams face

“you…..dumb…..fucking……liar” Gram got out between gasps, blood coming out the side of his mouth

“Seig Zeon” Char said as he fired 3 shots through Grams head

Char reached into his boot grabbing the knife he kept there.

“the things I do for love” he spoke slowly as he poked the blade into the hole in his arm and popped the bullet out, luckily it was a low caliber and it didnt dig in too deep. he thought about laying his arm against the heat hawk, make it look like a burn instead of a gun shot wound, but he figured he’d be under enough suspicion as it was, selling a gun shot that strayed into his slashed open cockpit wouldnt be the hardest thing. at least now there wouldnt be a zeon round in the wound

The door came up with a creek when Char climbed back into the Zaku, and he had to pilot using the emergency screen stored in the attic above his seat, luckily the hole in the cockpit hatch made it easy enough to breath as the smoke was able to leak out of the room.

Char piloted the suit north, knowing reinforcements would be heading for Kentucky soon enough.

A great Green Gow broke over the horizon, and a garbled transmission called out over the emergency receiver

“CHAR IS THAT YOU? WHERE IS MY BROTHER? WHERE IS GARMA” he heard through the static. It was Dozle. Char didn’t respond, he simply kneeled the zaku down, and climbed back out. The gow landed and dozle came out to meet him

“Char where is the rest of the team that went to hunt the feddie suits?”

“it’s just me, they were so fast…..they just overtook us so fast” “Char…..Char don’t lie to me” Dozle said, tears welling up in the great mans eyes

“I watched him get shot down Dozle, that sniper, his rifle, the beam left a hold like a rocket blast in Garmas suit, there was nothing I could do, and the white knight nearly took me out, it would’ve succeeded if Gram hadn’t shot them and given me room to get away

“Char no……he was your……he was my…..” Dozel hugged char in a great hug and cried hysterically

Char felt tears run down his face too

"I wish I had your luster Garma, I wish I could hold you for the rest of your life, I wish I didn't have to say goodbye to you" "you'll be the death of me Char, you're too much"

#charma #gundam #side story

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advernia · 4 years

Text

fic: to be cold like alleyway cobblestones

— just one of the many joys of being young and murderous. - mafia!au: of the things people do in the dead of night.

1: contains death + violence; the former's depicted in one scene only + the latter's all non-graphic, but still tread lightly.

Where are you?

It's not like you wanted to be here, it's more of you had to be here. Yes, here of all places, surrounded by piles of boxes and barrels and warehouses of years know how old. To be drenched in fog and to breathe in the seawater air, rusting copper and thick smoke that passes through your nose now clinging to the back of your throat.

Somewhere in the darkness and under the sickly yellowish lighting there's the shuffle of clothing and thump of shoes on cement. How many are there, it's hard to tell. Your eyes and ears aren't trained for this sort of night life. In fact, not a single part of you is. Maybe that's why you feel even smaller than ever, even when you're standing by in your best leather boots.

It is 10:32 PM.

What is going on?

To be fair, you were expecting this kind of reception. All of you were. That's why there are holsters secured on both sides of your waist and a little bomb nestled in your jacket pocket. That's why you made sure to secure your own copy of the map to drill all the curves, nooks, and crannies of this whole area in your brain hours before the negotiation was to take place. They told you that the memorizing isn't necessary, but you'd like to think that you know better so you practiced 'better safe than sorry'.

Turns out that you're right, and you'll be using that knowledge way earlier than you expected.

It is 10:58 PM.

How did this happen?

Your side could use the classic 'we tried' defense. No, it wasn't a lie or a joke, not even in slightest. You were paying close attention to the conversation, getting all those details in your head while doing your best to observe the surroundings and the non-verbal communication flying about. Gritting of teeth, crossing of arms, stiffening of shoulders, curling of fists. Ah, this wasn't looking good. You can practically feel the air growing stiffer by the minute.

Then some genius pulls out a gun.

It is 11:27 PM.

Why you?

You're stepping on spilt blood, hold the weight of triggers in your hands, hear gurgling cries with the crunching of muscle and bone as accompaniment, and breathe in touches of sulfur and death. You're a pretty thing standing in the makings of a morgue with your skin still unscathed and limbs in all the right positions, eyes able to see and heart still beating. So maybe, just maybe, that's why.

That's why someone's running towards you at full speed, screaming hell's wrath with teeth bared and the sharp tip of an iron blade aimed at your chest.

Shit, a familiar voice hisses. Others follow, but you can't hear what they're saying and suddenly everything's a blur too. The sentiment is fitting, you think. Shit. You're no statue, but your feet are rooted to the ground and you forget how it is to breathe. Shit. Your attacker's coming closer and closer and he isn't stopping for no one, not for you or for anyone else. Shit. Your shaking fingers manage to curl around something solid, and for a moment you think yourself going mad when you actually feel comfort in the touches of cold metal against your skin.

Shit.

When your arms lift themselves up, two barrels are able to take aim.

Shit.

The man and his knife are about to step into your personal space.

Shit.

Your fingers pull at the -

Oh, your lips shake.

It is 12:01 AM.

It is 12:01 AM, and you just killed someone.

........................................................

The third bout that leaves her mouth has lesser chunks and is now mostly saliva. They leave her mouth in lengthy trails, drops falling down, down, down.

Doubled over with her head between her knees, she gasps repeatedly for more air than she really needs and more that she can release in grave huffs. It's almost like she's reminding herself how it is to breathe while emptying the contents of her stomach. Inhale, exhale. Through the nose, then out again. She figures that she must look all sorts of pitiful, some strange girl huffing and puffing with her body dangerously close to the pier's edge.

And while she's watching the remains of her lunch mingle with the sea, the world around her still goes on. Of course it does, because time is not so kind and sensitive enough to stop for every unfortunate soul struck with the impulse to throw up. If it did, then maybe she would go about slower in trying to breathe and getting rid of the acid in her mouth. If it did, then maybe she wouldn't start worrying about the impending blare of police sirens echoing faintly in her ears.

When something warm - a hand - rests on her shoulder, she raises her head slowly before turning it around.

The first thing she sees is a gloved open palm offering a handkerchief. It is pure white. No crease, no fold. The sight makes her lips purse, teeth gnawing at the insides of her cheek. She takes the cloth anyway, with the reluctance of someone who doesn't want their hands to get burned. It's ridiculous. She's ridiculous.

She lifts her head for whoever took pity on her. The ends of her lips pull upwards, urging the shape of a curve. She hopes it looks natural. It feels like it is.

For her efforts, green eyes smile back at her. It's still dark and the lighting around the place is still dim and sickly and the fog doesn't make visibility any better, but she knows those eyes. Most people just call them green, but personally she likes calling them mint. The color, the herb, the taste. A calming cool pastel, a blooming verdant vibrancy, a rush of a fresh sensation in the mouth that lingers long to carve its name on the tongue.

Not too chilling, too cold, too spicy, too menthol-like. There has always been something familiar about those small eyes that has become soothing to her.

"The others have gone ahead. We need to leave too," he whispers. The hand set on her shoulder squeezes gently before moving over to touch her arm. "Can you stand?"

She nods, fingers wiping away the tears that had formed in the edges of her eyes before the handkerchief dabs at her mouth.

"I'm fine," she tries to say, smoothing her voice into something convincing. It doesn't work because the consecutive throwing up session had her throat now running dry and empty. Another thing empty. No food and energy and melody left in her and all that's left behind is a horrid ungodly cross between hoarse and mechanical. Grating and lifeless. Skin, muscle, and blood for a shell but nothing inside. Not the least bit human. Who's going to believe her now?

Even her legs quake when she tries to stand. How embarrassing, her own body won't even listen to her. She's thankful for the hand that keeps her steady, it takes hold of her arm and weight into stride and lifts her up to her feet; not letting go till she's ready and standing upright. The hand goes as far as to smooth the stray strands of her blonde hair back in place, tucking locks behind her ear and keeping them away from her eyes.

How nice. Maybe now she's a bit presentable.

"I can carry you back."

"W-wh-what? Oh no, no, it's okay. It's nice of you to offer. But I can walk, I promise."

A low hum, the peer into her eyes that leaves little space to speak of in between two faces.

"... I'll hold onto your hand to be safe. Is that better?"

Well. Still a bit embarrassing. But maybe she should listen to her shaking knees and stop being stubborn for once.

There wasn't much of her pride worth salvaging right now anyway.

"... All right, then."

........................................................

Car rides can sure brew fun conversations.

"So about the one you killed - "

"The one she shot," the sudden correction is hostile, and it's quickly met with a pointed snort that follows with the turn of the wheel. The van tilts sharply to the left, and through her slightly lowered window, an angry chorus of car horns trumpet their way in.

Watch where you're fucking going, shitty asshole, goddamn kid and other curses also reach her ears.

So much for safe driving.

"Four bullets to the torso, four bullets to the neck - what else is a man going to be but dead after that barrage?"

The facts are laid out by a voice that brought to mind those of television news show reporters: neutral in volume, plain in pitch and timbre, objective in content. She could hear it now: this just in - unknown assailant shoots a middle-aged man multiple times, flees the scene immediately and leaves victim bleeding to death on the pavement; more details after the break. Her eyes turn up to the rearview mirror, finds the driver's gaze away from the road and instead set on her. Silver irises make for pretty jewelry but also sharpened knives, a dangerous mix of allure and pressure. She can't handle it and opts to look away, her insides twisting themselves into knots.

She thinks he hears him laughing.

Beside her, a hiss. "Just because this sorry excuse of a van isn't ours you decide to drive like the ruffian you truly are, how predictable. If you keep going recklessly, we're bound to catch unwanted attention."

"If you wanted to drive so much then you should've said so in the first place, stickler. The police aren't that stupid to prioritize a speeding ticket over a distress call, now are they?"

"Shame on you to assume that there's an extent to stupidity."

The banter would continue to go on without her help so she leans her head against the window, gazing at the scenery outside. A street never dead despite the early hour, cars constantly passing through. Beggars making themselves small in between the crooks of alleys. Drunkards stumbling about the sidewalk. The occasional salaryman making their way home. Teenagers in groups or adults on their lonesome. Bars and convenience stores flashing their bright lights.

Still the same as ever.

"Clean them."

The stern voice pulls her out of her head, and she sees something land on her lap - it's a long strip of cloth and on top of it a thin bottle, transparent liquid sloshing about inside. Right, how could she forget: her hands go to the holsters on her waist and she pulls out her revolvers, cringes a bit when she sees the splatters of dark red across the front sights and barrels.

Ah... those must be dry by now.

She takes the bottle, about to pop it open -

"Again, don't forget to unload them first."

Despite herself, a soft laugh escapes her lips. She glances at him; he who never missed all the small details, he who constantly reminded her of the same thing during these nights. He's watching her with an eyebrow raised, maybe wondering why she hasn't followed his instructions yet.

He's still the same as ever too - it's oddly comforting, in a way.

"I know," she says with a wry smile.

........................................................

When the waves of police cars have gone far far away, they leave their getaway van in some unassuming convenience store parking lot space.

Upon their arrival at the city's center, they split into two groups. Group A reconvenes with the rest of the team; Group B goes back to base.

When they drew straws, she considered being part of Group B a stroke of luck, but -

"So like I was saying earlier, the man you killed..."

They're taking a short break on a park bench, and his sudden quip has her choking on her 250 lin bottled water and it gets everywhere: around her chin, across her shirt, down to her pants. She looked embarrassing, that's for sure; and of course he decides to act like a true gentleman by sitting beside her wordlessly as she tries to get through the worst of her coughing fit, just staring at her with obvious interest.

No pats on the back, are you okays, there, theres - just the chirping of crickets, quiet rustling of leaves, and his soft laughter ringing in her ears.

"Still jittery, huh?"

"If you knew, then you shouldn't have said that in the first place...!"

"Good point."

She flashed him a scowl before letting out a few more coughs.

"Why," she starts a few seconds later, voice warbling at the edges, "do you keep mentioning that man?"

"Oh, just to serve as a usual reminder. I'm sure you know that if you didn't kill him in time, then you would've died."

"... I know."

"You say you do, but it still doesn't give you any satisfaction, doesn't it? Especially for someone like you."

She inhales sharply, hands wringing themselves together on her lap. His pointed emphasis on her state didn't offend her much, possibly because she accepted it to be the truth for some time now: get over it, she told herself multiple times. It comes with the job, it's natural, she sung to herself. You did what you had to do, it was unavoidable, she cried to herself. Those were just the beginning of the many words she'd use the first time, the second, the third, then so on and so forth until she had pushed herself into a cycle of guilt; the next unwanted experience breaking her down just as easy, just as vicious and relentless like the first time she felt blood drown her hands.

It's a terrible, terrible, such a terrible feeling; to be thankful that you took someone else's life just to be able to live one more day longer. To understand that to live; you must plunge a knife on someone's chest, shove poison down their throat, steal the air out of their lungs, and rain bullets on their body.

Eyes close themselves tightly, teeth dig harshly into the insides of the mouth.

If she could wail to the heavens, she would.

... Just where did it all go wrong?

........................................................

2: cleaning tumblr drafts, i stumbled on this and tried to find its main file but... it??? doesn't??? exist??? this was a shame to scrap entirely, so i patched it up the best i could... ran out of steam come the ending tho....（´＿｀） 3: i remember aiming for a no-name drop kind of thing, so i tried my best to hint at who is who solely through description! in order of appearance, alice's companions are mousse (pier scene + hostile corrector), dean (alice's seatmate in the van scene), and dalim (van driver + bench scene) - idk if i managed to pull it off, but dean really got the short end of the stick since his scene's the shortest aha....

#ikemen kakumei #ikemen revolution #ikerev fanfic #ikerev alice #shifting narratives....... working through the transition is fun #now that i think of it this is fic is a chunk of formats i've always wanted to try #tho mafia huh... ugh... i wanna play my piofiore when i get home orz #but wHEN

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petitprincess1 · 4 years

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Good Evening Ch10 (Let’s Kill Tonight)

AO3 Link Summary: Alastor goes to wreak some havoc at the warehouse on two unsuspecting guards. How fun :) Words: 2,155 Warning:Warning: Mild gore (at least I think it's mild), violence, blood, amputation (not detailed), death, gun use, burning, and implied cannibalism. ~~~ Alastor had used the backdoor to leave outside of the house, since he heard Charlie getting interrogated by her mother and knew that Lilith seemed to be a shrew lady. The last thing he needed to do was be caught by her, since he knew that she was much more aware than she appeared, especially if Lucifer was any indication. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were fully aware of all that he had done.

No matter, this was something that could be dealt with on a later date. Plus, he wasn’t dense. The creole left a note explaining that he had left something in a previous motel that he stayed in or possibly at the Happy Hotel. Whether or not, they’ll believe it is nothing that he had to worry about at the moment.

Alastor went into his car and looked at his phone, seeing if Husk had responded to him. The man had been around Angelo the longest and may know his password, especially since he’s in charge of keeping track of the guests. Granted, he would be making grand assumptions about his Anthony, but...they were necessary at the moment.

A vibration on his phone caught his attention and Alastor checked the message.

Husker: Why the fuck do you want to know his password? Alastor: Ah! You do know it! Thank goodness that you remain one of my, if not the most, predictable of my friends, Husker. Also, that information is unnecessary. Husker: Any info from you is fucking necessary. Now, what the fuck do you want with it? Alastor: Nice to see your vocabulary remains as limited as usual. If you must know, the ethel had gotten attacked recently and I need to get into this phone. I need to know who hurt him.

As he pulled up into the hotel, Alastor didn’t receive another text from Husk. He assumed that it was going to take a bit more persuading, but he ended up seeing Husk walk up to the car. Al rolled his window down and was about to give a cheeky comment, but Husk tossed a torn piece of paper into the car. He huffed, “Shut the fuck up before I change my mind about you givin’ a shit about anyone. Just leave me out of this. I don’t need to be wrapped up in your shit again. Also, do what you gotta do now and give me the phone afterwards.”

Alastor pouted, “Awww, but what if I need more information?”

The older man rolled his eyes and said, “You won’t. You never were one to forget. ….I’m only doing this for Angelo, not for you. I figured he would be in some deep shit hearing about Val’s death. Just...give them hell.”

The creole grinned coldly up at Husk and chuckled as he typed in the password, “Oh...I plan to.”

Alastor parked his car into the forest nearby and saw an abandoned warehouse about a couple of feet away. Luckily, the plant life was so thick and unkempt that it kept himself fairly hidden. He moved as close as he could without causing too much rustling and saw that there seemed to be at least two people on guard. Seeing them speaking to each other, Al hummed as he moved closer to the miscreants to hear their conversation. The creole truly hated being left out of the loop.

Once he was close enough, he listened to the tanned one complain, “...I’m just saying, man. There ain’t no point. Why do you think it’s just us? No one wants to come to some damn forest. They’re all busy with their, like, ouija boards and...switches...and, I don’t know, jeweling. Stuff like that...look, I got kids, man. I don’t want to waste time with this shit.”

The one that was greying glanced at him and sighed, “You’re a fucking moron. Also, just because there hasn’t been anyone, doesn’t mean that no one will be here. Plus, you think Tony’s family is gonna let Vox off easy. Ya saw how he was when he left. Barely was able to walk. It was surprising watching him start driving-” That was more than enough to assure Alastor that he was making the right decision, not that he had any doubts.

He went back to his car and opened up his trunk. Luckily, he had brought his bag, but he only planned on using his knife for this occasion. No need to set up traps, much harder to clean up the mess. There’s always a stray drop of blood that you always miss. Not to mention that it’s absolute hell to clean in-between the teeth of a bear trap. Al closed his trunk- no, he slammed his trunk as loud as he could, instantly making him hear the two get alerted. Just to add extra flare, the brown-skinned man tossed rocks in two different directions to gain more attention.

Alastor listened to the two whisper to another and scarcely watched them walking toward the forest. Luckily, the woodland was already so dense that he barely needed to hide. These people were just making it so easy for him ~~~ The greying haired man was slowly walking around the woods with a hand on his pistol, ready to pull out his weapon whenever it was deemed necessary. Other than Vox and Val’s crew and a few other associates, no one knew about the location. Well, the forest was pretty well known, but hardly anyone in Eden would go near it. He assumed that it was probably a bunch of kids, thinking that they might be brave or searching for an urban legend or whatever.

Normally, they were told to shoot whoever trespassed, no matter the excuse. However, if they were just kids or teens, the man had no problem with just letting them go with a warning or even threatening to shoot. He was a part of the mafia, but he wasn’t a monster.

The grey haired man jumped at hearing rustling in a bush nearby. He took his gun out and didn’t take the safety off as a just in case. He called out, “Alright, come out slowly and you won’t get a bullet in tha…” He trailed off as a bunny came hopping out from the bush and its little nose twitched up at the guard. The man chuckled, leaned down to the bunny’s height, and whispered, “Hey, don’t worry, buddy. I ain’t Elmer Fudd. You’re safe with me.”

The grey haired man placed a finger to his lips and shushed the rabbit, causing the little guy to bounce away. He gave another laugh as he pocketed his gun and turned to go find the other guard, just to suddenly let out a gurgled, cut-off scream as a knife got embedded halfway into his throat. He trembled as blood slowly came out his mouth, while he choked, staring at a mixed man with a wide smile on his face.

The guard placed a hand weakly onto the well-dressed attacker’s wrist and was about to pull, but the attacker chided, “Ah-ah~! I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It’s actually far more damaging to pull the knife out, since it tends to cause even more damage. Not a lot of people know that~”

He then winked at the greying man and sliced further up his throat, until he got to the bottom of his chin. The man’s tongue flopped out from the large gash in his throat as blood poured down his neck. Alastor was quick to place his jacket on the forest floor to catch the blood that poured out of the victim’s throat. The guard uselessly tried to stop the bleeding by weakly covering his throat and forcing his hanging tongue back into his mouth.

Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, it did absolutely nothing and the man almost fell to the ground. Thankfully, Alastor was there to help settle the guard onto the ground and slowly placed him onto the jacket. He hummed as he grabbed the jacket and started to drag the man through the forest with one arm, looking at his knife with the other. Al gave a small lick to the blood and small bits of skin on the blade.

He muttered as he licked his lips, “Not bad. A little greasy, but that doesn’t mean it has to go to waste. Why, I bet your tongue would be great in an omelette. Using the right spices, you can easily make it taste like beef! What a wonderful treat to say “thank you”!”

Al kept going on and on as he dragged the dead man back into the warehouse. ~~~ The other guard came walking back into the warehouse when he saw smoke coming from a window. He just assumed that the man put on the large furnace to stay warm. It was pretty cold, after all. He called out to the other man, “Artie, you here? I didn’t see anything! I’m guessing it was just a squirrel or…”

He trailed off and dropped his gun when he saw Artie lying on the ground on a jacket with his throat flayed open, exposing many ligaments, veins, and large chunks of meat. There also seemed to be Artie’s tongue inside of a container that had bloodied water inside of it. The guard covered his mouth and was about to turn to run, but he let out a loud scream as his achilles heel got sliced, rendering his foot useless and making him fall to the floor. He whimpered as he tried to quickly crawl away, ignoring the agonizing, searing pain on his heel and the sound of light, quick footsteps near him.

Alastor walked in front of the guard, causing the crawling man to look up at him. The guard whimpered, “P-Please, d-don’t kill m-me!”

Al crouched down and hummed with a large smile, “Well, you know, I would love to do that, but you hurt someone I really cared about. I-I mean, if you did this to send a message, then...message received” he took the knife out of his pocket and stabbed it through the man’s arm, causing him to scream in pain and tremble more on the ground. Tears ran down his face as his screams made his throat raw.

The guard whined, “Pl-lease, I-I didn’t d-do anything! I-I-I didn’t e-even be-eat the fa- Gah!”

He cried as he got a punch to the face, which that pain paled in comparison to anything else. The creole’s smile grew wider to an almost insane degree as he practically growled, “Don’t...finish that word.”

Alastor looked up at the furnace and huffed as he grabbed the knife and yanked it out of the guard’s arm. The man bit his lip, trying not to cry out more. He gave shuddering whine and tried begging again, “P-Please, don’t kill m-me! I have k-kids, m-man, and a-a wife. I-I swear, I did n-nothing to th- ..An-nthony! Please!”

The creole ignored him as he stuffed the corpse into the flames of the large furnace, breathing in the smell of the quickly burning flesh. He was about to turn to the other man, but jumped as a loud bang happened behind him and felt something graze his cheek. Al blinked as he slowly turned to the man and saw him turning to cock the gun, struggling with his injured arm. He quickly walked over to the guard and stomped on his slashed ankle, snapping the bones and causing a loud wet tearing sound to reverberate throughout the warehouse.

Before the guard could do anything, Alastor grabbed the gun and tossed it away. He huffed, grabbing the man’s uninjured leg and began dragging him away, “I was thinking about letting you live, since I don’t particularly enjoy harming children or hearing their annoying cries. However...now, I need you dead for attempting to kill me! I mean, how rude.”

The guard pleaded as he dug, “No! PLEASE! DON’T! HEEELP! HE-” He got cut off as Al picked up the man and tossed him into the fire on top of the slowly burning corpse. His smile got smaller as it turned more into a relieved one, feeling a sense of catharsis at hearing the guard’s blood-curdling cries as he struggled to get out of the flames.

The creole closed the door to the furnace and left the door open to allow the wonderful aroma of burning cowards stretch throughout the place. He hummed along with the guard’s futile cries, took the tongue in the container, and any evidence that was around, he placed it into his bloodied jacket.

He could leave the tongue at the front entrance, but why leave any clues. Alastor wanted them all to never know what will happen next, just like how his dear Anthony went in unaware. He didn't get to kill the people he was looking for, but it certainly was a start. Al smiled, “Very entertaining, indeed~”

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chasseurdeloup-retired · 4 years

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Crabby Shack || Cece and Kaden

Cece had been trying to keep up with her daily routine, to keep her mind off the limb amputating karkinoids that were weaving in and out of the trees in the woods that surrounded her home. She had encountered them twice now, once with Remmy and Blanche and another time with Winston and Miles. Both times, things had gotten dangerous. She kept a near constant protection spell surrounding her house that would keep any single one from breaking into the home, but as soon as the groups banded together and decided to brave the property, she wasn’t sure how long the barrier would hold itself up. Every now and again she would glance out one of the windows into the backyard and catch one peeking through the tree line. Were they sizing up the competition just like Cece was? It didn’t matter, because the doorbell rang and Cece leapt out of her thoughts and rushed to the door, flinging it open and barely avoiding spilling her glass of wine from the force. “Hey, you must be Kaden. Need wine?”

Kaden was getting real sick of karkinoids. If he could go one day without having to try and trap and cut down an oversized crustacean, it would be too soon. And yet, here he was, pulling up to one Cece Bishops' driveway to deal with karkinoids. In the woods of all places. At least it was a change of scenery. He got out of his car, weapons and traps in hand as he rang the doorbell. So far, no monsters jumping out from the trees. But he could feel it, there was something out there. He was relieved that nothing had attacked him in the time it took her to open the door. "And I'm assuming you're Cece. I'm good, thanks." He looked over his shoulder, seeing a rustling in the underbrush nearby. "Maybe we should discuss inside. Wanna let me in?"

Cece sized up Kaden, holding onto an assortment of weaponry standing outside her home. If she had to guess his occupation, she probably would have guessed some kind of hunter or police officer, so animal control officer fit the look. He turned down her offer of wine, which she supposed made sense considering he was probably on the job right now. Though his question about being invited in was enough to spark paranoia for Cece. She had dealt with a lot of vampires, both ally and enemy. Rule number one was to avoid inviting the vampire in, though the rules were specific. “Sure. The kitchen table is right through here.” Without a distinct invitation, she could avoid accidentally letting a vampire into her home. She stepped aside, smirking when Kaden was able to easily walk inside. Not to say he wasn’t still dangerous, just not necessarily undead and blood-sucky. She led Kaden to her kitchen, where the barstools sat in front of the bar looking over the front room. “Welcome to my home, you deal with dog sized lobsters pretty often or-?” She left the question open ended, wondering if these creatures showing up in White Crest was normal or something new.

Kaden walked past her and headed towards the kitchen. It was a nice place, alright. Far better than his meager apartment that was somewhere between the Bend and Amity Road. Not sure if it was worth the near constant exposure to monsters and all manner of supernatural evil to live there, but that was her problem. He started fiddling with the traps, getting them ready to go, and slinging his weapons on him where they'd be easy to access. "Well, before this week, I would have said no. Lately, however..." He let his words trail off and gave a bit of a shrug. "So where have you seen them so far? And how close have they gotten to the house? Any try to get in, cause any property damage?"

Cece watched with a morbid curiosity as Kaden fiddled with the trap. She knew the thing was ready to be used to catch and eventually kill any creatures that posed a threat, it was Kaden’s job. Despite Cece being a little too familiar with animal traps, which they used whenever a nonhuman blood sacrifice was needed, it still seemed odd to be having what appeared to be casual conversation at her kitchen bar while Kaden prepared the deadly trap. “Mostly out in the woods behind the house. The river is about half a mile back so my guess is they’re coming from there.” Cece had only been back to the water once before, to check the place out before she decided whether or not to purchase the property. “For the most part they’ve mostly stayed behind the tree line,” She glossed over the protection spell information for obviously reasons, “Sometimes one will stray into the backyard. They’ve been surprisingly calm, I wouldn’t worry much about them but I have a roommate moving in next week and don’t want her freaked out. Or like, delimbed while carrying in boxes.”

Kaden nodded along to what she was saying as he gathered the traps and headed back towards the door. "I think I'll set these up in the back of the house then, facing the river, see what we can get. Then I'll see what can be done from the--" His hand hovered over the door handle as he heard something outside. It sounded like creaking, cackling of crustacean legs. And then a thud. Like it something ran into a wall. Odd. Then it happened again, this time the clacking got louder. Kaden swung the door open to see what was going on. Karkinoids. Lots of them. All coming out of the woods. He saw at least 4 or 5. There could have been more surrounding them, surely but they were oddly enough, all in a circle around the house. Almost like... Kaden took a moment to glance over towards Cece. "You wouldn't happen to know why..." Almost as if on cue, another of them tried to pass the barrier and it was like slamming into an invisible wall. Before he could finish his question, two tried at once. There wasn't a thud this time. Merde.

Cece heard the noise but didn’t move towards the backdoor until she realized Kaden had cut off from his sentence. Apparently, whatever that noise had been must have been something important. She grabbed the wine glass from the counter and made her way over next to Kaden. The karkinoids had finally grown a pair and huddled up against the protective barrier. The good news? It was working for now, keeping them at bay. The bad news? Anybody that new anything about magic or even believed in the supernatural would be able to easily tell why the things weren’t able to move forward. “Uh” Cece knew where Kaden’s question was going but was grateful when he was unable to finish the sentence. Instead, the noise was much louder this time around and Cece could only assume that was the unfortunate sound of the barrier failing them. “Um, so if I had to guess, that’s probably not a great sign.” She took a long sip of the wine. She figured that the cat was at least slightly out of the bag. Though that may also imply that there was more to meet the eye with Kaden as well. “We should definitely focus on those things being dangerous now and nothing else.”

Kaden sort of wished he had something alcoholic to down just then, too. "I'd say it's not." He reached down and pulled a pistol out of his holster and aimed for the karkinoid that had started to make its way through to the house, the one closest to them. He unloaded a whole mag at it, most of the bullets that hit just clinked right off of the exoskeleton. Which he expected. But one hit and the thing wailed. It didn't to a whole lot to slow it down. Kaden didn't wait to reload his gun, they didn't have time to waste. He had to wonder if it was worth getting closer, maybe give him a better advantage point to aim, maybe find the weak points. "Got anything else that can help us out here? Now might be the time to start conjuring it up or whatever." With his gun in hand, reloaded and ready, he headed to the porch and fired at the same one and two of its friends, rotating his ten shots between them. The one to the left screeched once and started bleeding but they were all headed right towards them looking barley any worse for wear. Putain. He really wanted to stay ranged with these numbers but he didn't know how long that was going to last.

Cece watched as the bullets bounced off the karkinoid. Finally, at least one of the bullets had hit its mark. But either Kaden would have to pinpoint the exact location of any weak spot or he would need a hell of a lot of bullets. “I’m going to ignore that you said that” Cece blinked at him, not exactly thrilled at the idea of Kaden already recognizing the magical nature to Cece from that damn protective barrier. Cece had never specialized in offensive magic. As much as she wished she could hurl a fireball at them or raise the dead to fight them, that wasn’t going to cut it. However, Cece didn’t like to come completely unprepared. Just in case the creatures had gotten past the barrier, Cece had wanted a backup plan, she just hoped that it worked. “Give it a few minutes and I think we may get lucky.” Cece guessed, hoping that it had been the truth. The idea was an aging spell, planted like seeds throughout the grass and set to activate once the barrier was broken. If what she had read about the karkinoids stayed true, without that exoskeleton the things were practically defenseless. And while the aging spell was by no means permanent, Cece hoped that it would do the trick in this instance. “As long as we can survive the next few minutes without the killing us at least.”

Of course, Kaden figured, it was too much to hope for that the person he was helping out could actually do magic. No, that'd be too easy. Instead just working for someone who must have contracted a spellcaster to protect the house or something like that. He sighed and tried to assess the situation. Those three were wounded, but only a little. And there were at least three more coming from various directions. Traps were going to be worth shit all now. Another mag dumped into them with almost no change, clearly the gun was out. Melee it was. He reached over to pull out his machete whens he said something about waiting. "Lucky? How? What kind of miracle are you expecting?" He was about to charge on ahead but her last comment gave him pause. He couldn't' say what it was, but he got the feeling there was more to her than met the eye from the way she was talking. Maybe she was the one with some power after all. He hated the idea of blindly trusting someone he just met but the options were looking slim. "Right. I'm going to try my best to take down what I can but if what you're telling me is true, I'm going to need you to help me distract some of those connards so I don't get mauled to death, got it?" He didn't wait for an answer or her solution and went head on at the nearest giant lobster monster.

Understandably, Kaden did not seem exactly sold on the idea that if they were patient their little seafood problem may become a bit less fatal. Or technically more fatal, just not for Cece and Kaden. “I don’t believe in miracles” Cece claimed matter-of-factly. Still, Kaden surprisingly took her word for it and instead asked for a distraction. She picked up on the word – not exactly sure of the meaning but knowing enough to recognize that it was French. She only knew it because of a member of her coven that had spoken French. If he was French, she wondered how he had ended up here in White Crest. Not that that mattered right now. Nothing about her research into the karkinoids had suggested any specific sights, sounds or smells that they were attracted to. But she figured a loud enough sound may work. She ran back into her kitchen, abandoning the empty wine glass on the counter and grabbing for two pots. She made her way to the back door and jumped onto the patio, banging them together. If she could at least get their attention directed towards her Kaden may be able to weave in and out and while they waited for the magic to get working. She would really like it if it would work more quickly.

Kaden ran out into the backyard, weapon in hand. The monster closest to him scuttled across the yard, weaving through the landscape. It was even uglier up close. And those damn claws were bigger than he ever remembered. The thing had definitely honed in on him and was aiming straight for Kaden. He knew the others had to be close behind but he couldn't concentrate on that just yet. Kaden picked up his pace, all out sprinting at the monster, leaning towards the left of it. The ugly piece of shit shambled towards him, pincers ready to crush him, but just before he was in risk of losing a limb, Kaden dodged sharply to the right. It wasn't much of an advantage, but the karkinoid lunged forward and it gave Kaden the precious second he needed to take a swipe at the joint where the arm claw met the beast's body. It was one of the few sensitive areas while the creature was upright. A wail of pain came from the monster as it began to bleed. Kaden groaned, he'd hoped he might have cut of the claw or made it at least unusable, give him one less way to die. Shit, the thing lunged for him again, not caught off guard like last time. Kaden ducked and rolled away just in time. His next swipe when he popped up went wide, nothing to hit. He was sure the others were headed to him. And then he heard an earsplitting clattering. "Fuck!" Hunter hearing, not always his favorite. Thankfully, the monsters seemed to have a similar reaction. No time to waste. Kaden slashed at the wounded limb again. This time, it hung limp, not cut clean off but certainly useless. And it seemed like the other bastards were headed towards the house again and not him. Yet. Here's hoping that "luck" she promised kicked in soon.

Cece breathed a sigh of relief when she watched Kaden’s blade slice through the karkinoid. It was working. Glancing around she could see the outer layer shedding off the whole group of them. They were practically home free now. She glanced over towards Kaden just in time to notice two of the karkinoids heading straight for Cece. She didn’t have any weapons in hand, didn’t have anything that she needed to keep that thing away from her. So she did the only thing that she could think of, swung the pot at the thing once it got close enough. Not enough to kill it obviously, but the pan collided with the monster’s head with a loud clanging noise before it crashed against the ground. Cece could only celebrate for a second before remembering she still had another one right behind it, crawling over the lobster’s body to get to Cece. She hopped up the steps onto her back porch to put some distance between the two. For now she just needed to keep away while Kaden did his work. Either that, or she needed to find a more suitable weapon of her own. Right about now she wished she owned a gun.

Kaden was impressed to see her knock out one of the monsters square in the head. It was a good solid hit. For someone without super strength, at least. Good thing it did the trick since that second one was almost to her. Thankfully, so was he. Kaden lunged and swung his blade down at the back of the karkinoid, slicing at the tail and back legs. Not a clean cut, but it was more than enough to cause some serious damage, sending the monster wailing and turning his attention to the hunter. It spun towards him, claws raised, ready to slice Kaden right back. But Kaden didn't miss a beat, he flung his machete upwards with all his strength, severing one of the claws right off and knicking the head. It was enough to make the beast collapse, unable to do more damage. That taken care of, he headed over to Cece. He paused to stab the lobster she'd knocked out through the torso, good and deep, just for good measure. "You any good with a gun or a knife? This would go a lot faster with two of us on point."

Cece had to admit that Kaden was impressive. He was skilled, a lot more skilled than any regular hunter or animal control officer needed to be. That, combined with his knowledge of magic and him being unphased by slaying giant lobsters led Cece to believe that there was more to Kaden then met the eye. But for now, they were fighting on the same side so Cece would need to trust him. He came to her rescue with the karkinoid, slaying the one that had been heading towards her and then impaling the one on the ground. Then he offered her a weapon. And while Cece was more comfortable around a blade than a gun, she much preferred to keep her distance from danger. She knew she was impressive in her own right, but dodge rolling and slicing like Kaden did was not one of Cece’s strengths. “Gun. Definitely a gun.”

Kaden was reluctant to share his weapons with anyone. It was a lot to trust someone with. But she'd managed to knock out a karkinoid with a pot and clearly knew something about magic, whether or not all the protection shit was her doing, so it was good enough reason for him to trust her for the moment. "Just try not to shoot me, got it?" He handed her the pistol from his holster and then the two mags he had on hand. He took a moment to look around, see how many were left. There were at least two more to the right and if he was correct, he was pretty sure he heard at least on more near the front of the house. "You take the two over there," he said, pointing to the right. "I think I heard something in the front. Yell if you need me." With that, he ran back down the porch stairs and started around the left of the house to see what sort of monster was trying to knock at Cece's front door.

Kaden handed the gun off to Cece and she held onto it for a long second, testing its weight in her hands. She had held a gun before, even shot one. But never at anything more than a target. When in Texas and all that jazz. “Cross my heart” Cece promised, having no intentions of shooting Kaden. At least not on purpose. She stuffed the extra magazines into her back pocket and gripped onto the pistol, simply nodding at Kaden as he asked her to take care of the two left here in the backyard while he checked out the noise out front. She waited until he had hopped off the porch and made cut the corner of the house before Cece pointed the gun at her first target. She took a breath, focused her shot and pulled the trigger. The first bullet was too far to the left, a chunk of grass about ten feet from the lobster monster flying into the air. Cece readjusted and fired again, this time just a bit too far to the right. Cece had overcompensated. Her third bullet hit its mark, the wailing from the creature evident. It seemed to be just a graze and not enough to stop the creature from crawling forward, but Cece’s next two shots sunk into the creature and the sixth shot seemed to finally stop the creature. The second one ignored its buddy’s death and kept moving forward. Cece finally the magazines last few shots and dropped the empty mag, snatching a spare from the back pocket and shoved it in, immediately pulling the trigger again to keep firing.

Kaden heard the sounds of gunshots as he rounded the side of the house. He hoped they were hitting something and not just putting holes in the grass. Not his problem just then. He slowed down as he reached the corner of her home and peaked around to see where the monster was. So far, he didn't see anything. Slowly, he leaned around farther. Still nothing. He was completely out of cover and there wasn't a single giant lobster by the front of the house. Odd. He knew he heard something. He walked closer to the front door, trying not to step on any of the landscaping too much. If she had the resources to skin karkinoids, he didn't want to find out what she did to the guy who fucked up her house. The gunshots rang out but there was no sign of monsters at the front. Not even a click of a crustacean leg. Maybe he'd heard things. He walked up to the front porch, maybe he could get a slightly better advantage point from the top of the stairs, double check before joining her. And teaching her how to fucking aim by the sound of it. He was about to turn around when a giant claw came wooshing right at him. Merde. Kaden dropped, reacting on pure instinct, and just missed the razor sharp pincer. The window wasn't as lucky. He flipped himself over quick as he could and rammed his blade up through the belly of the beast, digging it in and then pulling it out through the side. The karkinoid screamed as it collapsed on top of the hunter, spilling out blood and guts as it died. Disgusting. He'd smell like dead fish for a week.

Cece was thankful that she had taken the long-range weapon, even if her aim wasn’t anything she was ready to brag to Kaden about. She may have been wasting bullets, but at least she was keeping her distance from the monsters which kept her safer than she could say for others that happened across the karkinoids. Cece’s ears were ringing by the time Cece fired her last shot. She looked across her backyard, covered in the bodies of karkinoids that Kaden had slain. As it turned out, Cece would have all the supply of karkinoid exoskeleton that she could desire. With it, she could probably whip up a protection spell that was strong enough to keep out an entire army of the creatures. But she would have to collect that later. Through the ringing, she could hear the distant sound of a window breaking, and she spun on her heel and headed back into her home, Kaden’s gun in hand and ready to fire. She couldn’t remember how many bullets were left in it, but she could guess around four to five. Luckily, the gun wasn’t necessary as she found Kaden on her floor with a giant lobster on top of his body. “This is one hell of a buffet.” Cece quipped, pointing the gun away and smiling down at the animal control officer. “You smell awful.” That was the truth, the monster’s guts had spilled out over Kaden, tomalley and all. “You need some help getting that thing off of you?

Kaden rolled his eyes at her remark. "I got it, thanks." It didn't take too much effort to push the carcass off of him. It was a whole lot less deadly when it was, uh, well, dead. He thought about wiping away some of the mess but he was pretty sure nothing was going to help just then. He took a quick look around; the coast seemed clear. He didn't hear anything else coming. What he did see was all the dead karkinoids and the number it had done on her grounds. "Looks like you have a bit of a cleanup after this." He looked back at the broken window behind him. "Uh, sorry about that. But maybe you can get lucky again and work some magic, get it all tidied up in no time."

Though it was annoying that Cece was going to have to clean up all the dead karkinoids outside of her home, she was much less pleased about the gutted one now on her floor. At least it was all hardwood. “We aren’t gonna talk about the magic thing. Not to each other and definitely not to anybody else.” She would hate to have to make the guy forget she existed, especially since he had been so helpful. “But thank you, for your help. I think this is yours.” She held the gun back out towards Kaden, “Look if you want to wash some of that gross shit off of you before you go you can.”

Kaden was suspicious about the tight lips on the magic, but he decided not to press it. Today. He might need a favor later, spellcasters were always handy to know. And it was always nice to be able to remind them of that time he saved their life. He took the gun back without question and went to put it back in his holster. Only that holster was caked with karkinoid guts. Guess he'd just awkwardly hold it instead. "Uh, yeah, that'd be great, thanks. Might take you up on some of that wine, too."

#chatzy #writing #cece #thebickedwitchoftherest #crabby shack

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fk12b · 4 years

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗

Balthazar x Reader

222 Followers Celebration Drabble: Marvel & Supernatural

Plot: None of the events turned out as expected

Main Characters: Team Free Will, Balthazar

Gif Prompt: "I'm sorry boys, do I look like a manservant to you? No? Then quit ringing for me, please!"

Warnings: Nothing, just Balthazar and some explosions. The usual. Phone editing

Word Count: 5509 Words

A/N: I reached the 200 Followers! And I wanted to celebrate this with you by writing this fic. I love every and each of my followers. Thanks a lot for your love and support. I'll be leaving my ask open for those who want HC or short Drabbles. I love Y'all 3000

Based on this song -> Sign - Jeremy Renner (Aka Hawkeye) & Eric Zayne

You were waiting outside the warehouse with a shotgun in hand, a machete attached to your belt and a knife plus a gun on your thigh holster. Like always, you were tasked with guarding the whereabouts of the monster's lair, specifically, the doors, while the Winchesters and Castiel took a look on the inside. At least, they could have left you the angel to keep you company and help you with the guarding task. Even a brother would have been enough.

What am I supposed to do if the thing comes up? You thought while you walked around in the woods, not too far away from the house but away enough to leave room in case you needed to follow the monster and not look suspicious. You weren’t usually this hesitant on keeping an eye outside while the brothers took a look, you’ve been hunting with them for years now despite your young age, being a bit younger than Sam. You even hunted with Bobby and Rufus and your dad, before meeting the brothers. So, you weren’t new in this business.

Something seemed off to you though. This warehouse looked like it was the hiding of a witch. The plants and flowers, where you were standing, were dry dead. You looked up at the sky. It was already past midnight, the moon shone brightly with a mesmerizing halo. The stars were also clear, you could clearly distinguish the Sagittarius constellation. Without looking down you scanned the treetops on your right. Only the two in the middle were leafless and dry. That's odd and clearly a sign there's a powerful witch or witches around. Better warn the boys.

When you turned around to go back on your steps, you bumped into a strong chest, almost falling on your butt, when strong arms caught you before you fell. In a swift movement, you took some steps away, heart racing, pointing your shotgun to them, before realizing who it was.

“Balthazar?” you frowned when you recognized the man, rather angel, standing there with his arms raised and relaxed a bit, put down your gun, to place a hand over your racing heart “You scared me. What are you doing here?”

“Sorry, love” the angel answered letting his arms fall back to his sides “It wasn’t my intention”

Love? You were taken aback at the nickname. Balthazar often tends to give you nicknames, but he never called you ‘love’ before.

“The Winchester found some ingredients in the house, and they might think there's a witch house near this one” He explained adjusting his blazer. “That’s why they called. They want us to take a look around” The blonde angel looked at you expectant.

“Okay” you nodded rather reluctantly. Something about this Balthazar seemed off, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

Usually, you could see his wings. It’s not like he was always showing them but sometimes stray feathers fell and you could see them. Maybe it’s because it’s past midnight?

“Y/N?” Balthazar frowned interrupting your thoughts making you focus on his eyes which also seemed different. They weren’t shining like they always were, for some reason.

“Right” You cleared your throat “Lead the way” you gave him a half-smile and motioned to your right for him to start walking.

Maybe it was the moon that was making you see things. This had to be Balthazar right? If he was the shapeshifter he wouldn’t have said your name, right?

While you tried to discover if the man in front of you was really Balthazar of not, lost in your thoughts, you failed to notice the glint in his eyes when he walked past you and how he smirked. If you were paying attention to your surroundings instead of the back of his head, you would have noticed how the leaves of the trees dried with each step you took. And if you had paid attention to him instead of your surroundings, when you reached the other warehouse, you could have avoided being thrown to the arms of Morpheus.

“Dean, I can’t find her” Castiel worried appearing next to the brothers making them turn in a hurry, and letting fall the heavy books they were holding while they looked around the basement.

“What do you mean you can’t find her?” Dean questioned the angel, furrowing his brows.

“She’s not outside.” The blue-eyed angel sighed “I went to warn her that we found indications that there may be a witch in this whereabouts, but she’s nowhere in sight” Castiel explained while the brothers rushed outside.

“Y/N!” Dean shouted desperately frantically lighting with his flashlight the floor, looking for any sings or footprints. “Sam! You go to the east while I go to the north”

“I’ll look around the forest” Castiel hurried and was gone in a flutter of wings.

Half an hour later, the Winchesters were desperate to find you, with a witch and a shapeshifter around, they were worrying more each passing second. Once they were back in the warehouse, they balanced the situation.

“It’s like she vanished out of thin air,” Sam said once he was in front of his brother and the angel.

“I didn’t find anything either” Dean rubbed his palm down his face “Just more dead trees.”

“Can we track her or something?” Sam suggested turning to Castiel.

“I cannot do that, Sam” Castiel sighed looking lost “She’s warded against the angels too”

“Then what do we do?” Dean asked exasperated lost as anyone.

“We can call Balthazar” Sam suggested even though he wasn’t very fond of that idea. “Balthazar somehow always knows where Y/N is” Sam explained when Dean turned to his brother like he had grown another two heads.

“Is our best option, Dean” Castiel warned the older Winchester.

. . ⋆ ✦ ⊹ · ✵ * * ✺ . + ✫ . · ✦ ˚ . . ⋆ ✦ ⊹ · ✵ * * ✺ . + ✫ . · ✦ ˚ . . ⋆ ✦ ⊹ · ✵ * *✺

When you woke up again, some hours had passed and you found yourself tied to a chair, next to a big picture window. It was still dark outside and the moon shone brightly. You looked outside to admire the beauty of a dark forest and how the stars flickered while you were lost in your thoughts.

Great, back on the road again. Should I have shot him? They are only silver bullets, it’s not like I’m going to kill Balthazar, right? It’s not like he would care if a shot him. Why he would care anyway? According to him, I’m just a stupid human, like said many times. He can’t be him. Balthazar never called me love or darling. I should have been able to see his wings too. Or just a feather. If that thing is a shapeshifter, why would he take the form of Balthazar if he hasn’t been around? That’s impossible, so that might have been Balthazar and because of him, the shifter got me. Thanks a lot, Balthy. I owe you a big one.

You let your head back exasperated and bored letting out a long groan.

“Hey!” You called softly when you felt a presence near you. “Dude! Can you play some rock at least?” you shifted your head to your left to take a glimpse at the figure to no avail “No? Okay” you nodded when you got no response.

The Winchesters were in the back parking of the motel they were staying, preparing the ingredients to call the angel. Castiel in the meantime made sure the surroundings were empty from any prying eyes.

“Why do we have to call him?” Dean reluctantly hovered his hand over the bowl. “I mean, why does it have to be him?”

“Because Balthazar is the only one able to find Y/N, Dean” Castiel sighed turning to the brothers “There is no one around. I am going return to the warehouse to continue searching” when Sam turned around Castiel was already gone.

“Do you think he will help us?” Dean said turning slightly to his younger brother.

“We have to try” Sam worried running one hand down his face “Besides is Y/N we’re talking about”

“Cross your fingers so he won’t kill us for interrupting his menage a douche” Dean spoke slicing his hand to pour the blood into the bowl. “If this son of a bitch doesn’t help us, I’ll light up the forest if I have to”

Taking a cloth, to wrap it around his hand, and a match, he lighted it throwing it into the bowl. As soon as it burst into flames the lights in the parks went off with a burst and with a big explosion, Balthazar appeared in front of the brothers standing in the hood of a car, still holding a bottle of scotch.

“Winchesters, of course,” He said condescendingly, “I think you might have confused me with the other angel”

“Look, Balthazar, we wouldn't have bothered you if this wasn’t important” Dean retorted sharing a look with his brother who gave him a reassuring look.

“We really need your help” Sam added with hope placing his large hands inside his pockets.

"I'm sorry boys” The blonde angel pinched the bridge of his nose “do I look like a manservant to you? No? No? Then quit ringing for me, please!" With a look to the brothers, he adjusted his blazer ready to get back to his whiskey.

“It’s Y/N” Dean stopped the angel when he was about to snap his fingers making him freeze on the spot.

“What about her,” Balthazar said with a neutral tone that made the brothers worry while he banished the scotch bottle he was holding to cross his arms over his chest.

“We” Sam hesitated, shifting in his spot “We don’t know where is she” he mumbled avoiding any eye contact.

“Could you repeat that?” He asked even though he heard the tall man perfectly “I didn’t quite catch that” the angel’s rage was clear in his tone.

“We can’t find her” Dean spoke louder this time.

“How?” Balthazar asked rather calmly while he got off the car’s hood “How the fuck can someone lose a person?!” He shouted while walking up to the brothers, cutting of Dean who was about to give him a lame excuse.

“We don’t know!” Sam responded to the rhetoric question as equally harsh as the angel and the brothers grew worried every minute.

“It takes skill!” Balthazar turned to Sam pointing a finger at him but rubbing his face with his large hand instead.

“She just wasn’t outside” Dean explained trying calm the angel to no avail.

“The thing just kidnapped her in the woods or something!” Sam exclaimed angering the angel more.

“Sam you are not helping here” The older brother expressed turning to his brother. “Cas is waiting for us in the warehouse”

Before they could finish the sentence Balthazar transported the three of them back to the warehouse, where Castiel was waiting outside for their arrival.

“What was this thing you were hunting?” Balthazar addressed the brothers without looking behind and hurriedly walking towards the house.

“Shapeshifter” Sam affirmed catching up with the angel “but there are signs that indicate there must be witches around”

“Brother” Castiel greeted with a nod letting him get inside the house.

“Cassie” Balthazar nodded back starting to inspect the living room.

There were some books scattered around the table. They weren’t of import though, some were about philosophy and history. In the far corner, there was a table next to a window with more books opened there. Balthazar walked up to it noticing that there was a half-drank bottle of bourbon and a heavy whiskey glass next to a notebook.

Picking the glass of whiskey, he sniffled the liquor inside. It was then when he noticed that the scent of it was familiar. The finest of Dean’s whiskey, the one you drank after a long mission with the brothers and would sometimes share with him. That’s when he noticed the change of the surroundings and how the window in front of him changed into one of the bunker’s libraries. With a harsh movement, Balthazar smashed the liquor glass in the window startling the boys.

“Balthazar, what the fuck man?” Dean shouted at the angel.

“A hybrid” The angel simply started looking at the table and picking the bottle holding a dark liquid that was there, realizing that the books weren’t about history but grimoires.

“What?” Dean questioned not understanding what was going on.

“There aren’t witches around” Balthazar sighed turning to the brothers “You were right with the shapeshifter though, but he’s a hybrid”

“A hybrid?” Sam frowned “Like, half-shapeshifter half-witch?” The tall man questioned searching around the table.

“Correct” Balthazar sighed rubbing his palm down his face. “We need to find Y/N as soon as possible,” The angel said handing the bottle to his brother.

“What’s that?” Dean wondered with a frown watching how Castiel sniffed the bottle and grimaced.

“Elixir” The blue eyes angel simply answered frowning making everyone turn to him “Is a beverage that helps to find soulmates” Balthazar turned in a hurry back to the window throwing the books off the table on his way.

“So you’re telling us, that if a shapeshifter drank this” Sam wondered taking the bottle from Castiel and sniffling it “it shapeshifts into whoever’s soulmate?”

“Leaving them unarmed and, therefore, incapable of fighting back” Castiel added while he watched Balthazar walk to the next room where they heard another crash, hurriedly following it.

“Balthazar, calm down. We’re gonna find her, she can’t be too far” Dean spoke trying to calm the angel.

“How can you tell me to calm down, when my soulmate is in danger?” Balthazar relentlessly paced back to the other room rubbing his face.

“Wait for a second, Y/N is your soulmate?” Dean wondered frowning and getting angrier by each passing second. “How?”

“It didn’t occur to you why I’m the only one I can find her, even though she’s guarded against the angels?” The blonde angel said facing the brothers.

“You couldn’t have told us this before?” the older Winchester raised his voice.

“This” Balthazar retorted trying to contain his anger “Is the reason why I didn’t tell you, and yet, she’s is in danger”

“Okay, let’s calm down all for a bit” Sam tried to reassure everyone and stopped Balthazar from saying anything more when he saw him face him “The longer we keep arguing the longer she’ll be in danger. We all care about her all right?” With that, Sam grabbed Cas and when to find any clues about anything.

Balthazar simply turned to face the window with his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose to calm himself. But it was pointless, he looked to the dark woods with his hands on his hips, trying to decipher them, asking his father to keep you safe a little while longer until he could get to you. If there was only one thing he knew, it was that he couldn’t lose you. Even with his idiotic demeanor, as you liked to refer to his antics, you always looked past him and understood him. He really was a stupid angel if he thought he could protect you by acting the way he does. Maybe he was afraid of love? Maybe what scared him was not being corresponded? Or maybe him? Being the soulmate of an angel is not easy. It’s a serious matter and risky. He couldn’t let anything happen to you.

“Does Y/N know you are her soulmate?” Dean asked sensing his distress stepping next to him.

“No, she doesn’t” Balthazar spoke calmly letting a long breath through his nose “I know she can see my wings though”

“Why didn’t you tell her?” the Winchester said looking at the things Balthazar threw to the floor.

“It’s not an easy topic, Dean” Balthazar crossed his arms frowning “A soulmate is something major, something serious. Something that escapes our knowledge”

“Do you love her?” Dean simply questioned in a soft tone, picking something from the floor frowning.

“Having a soulmate doesn’t imply that you love them. And loving someone doesn’t imply that it’s your soulmate” The angel answered.

“But, do you love her?” Dean repeated turning to the angel, who kept staring at the woods as if sensing something.

“It’s...” Balthazar paused frowning “complicated”

“Do you love her?” The hunter replied more sternly this time as a protective brother would.

“With all my being” Balthazar retorted.

Balthazar noticed the outline of a warehouse deep in the woods. It was for only a second and if he wouldn’t have been an angel probably would have missed it.

“I saw something,” Balthazar shouted turning to step out of the house “Move!” the angel growled grabbing everyone's attention.

Not too far from the main lair, the team found the hidden warehouse, that could be easily mistaken for something else if you didn’t pay attention to your surroundings, as it was dark and in the middle of the woods.

“It’s warded” Castiel comment watching how the sigils, only seen to the angels’ eyes, glow. “Of course we couldn’t locate it. We have to be careful, Balthazar and I will be locked inside our vessels and can’t use our powers”

Balthazar without thinking twice resumed his walk, Castiel trying to stop him with his arm to no avail. The blonde angel knew you were inside, we sensed his ring he thought he had lost some time ago in a fight with some angry demons trying to save the day. The angel tried to look for it everywhere to no avail.

“Balthazar...” Castiel spoke but was interrupted

“Cassie, save it.” The angel interrupted with a raise of his hand and opening the door to the house.

The Winchesters raised their guns and carefully stepped inside, following Balthazar, Castiel being the last one, closed the door after him, locking it so the monster wouldn’t leave the house. The boys went through different corridors in search of you or the monster. Castiel went upstairs, inspecting every bedroom but coming up empty-handed, whereas Sam went to his right searching in the kitchen and the small dining room.

You were halfway from freeing yourself from the tight constraints when you heard slow footsteps coming towards you. Quickly moving you managed to free your left arm and you were about to pick the knife when Dean came into view.

“Sweetheart” He relaxed and hurriedly walked up to you “Are you okay? Any wounds?” he worried freeing you with a cut of his knife and looking for any damage with his expert fingers.

“No, nothing serious” You replied dusting of yourself and hiding back your switchblade. “I think the shifter might have taken the form of ...”

“Balthazar, we know” The Winchester interrupted you handing you a spare gun

“How did you know?” You wondered frowning

“Balthazar and Cas discovered it. The actual Balthazar, not that thing” Dean explained when he saw your bewildered face “And the bastard is half-witch half-shapeshifter”

“A hybrid?” you groaned examining the gun and reading it “Wait! Where’s Balthazar?” You stopped Dean when he was about to walk away.

“Headed down the basement,” He clarified with a nod of his head

“Shit, okay” you worried “Go by the front stairs I’ll through the back. Dean” You stopped him with a tight hold on his arm “Don’t shoot whatever happens don’t shoot at Balthazar, even if it’s the shifter”

“But...”

“No” you raised your tone worriedly “There are sigils against angels and another I don’t recognize but it looks like a killing sigil, please Dean” you pleaded and Dean couldn’t help but nod at your worried expression and walk to the basement.

. . ⋆ ✦ ⊹ · ✵ * * ✺ . + ✫ . · ✦ ˚ . . ⋆ ✦ ⊹ · ✵ * * ✺ . + ✫ . · ✦ ˚ . . ⋆ ✦ ⊹ · ✵ * *✺

As you took the stairs step by step, your anxiety levels were raising exponentially. What if you shoot the wrong Balthazar? What if you couldn’t recognize him? He was an angel, but what if you ended up killing him? And if you ended up killing the target, how could you explain to him how you did recognize him? Your heart was pounding in a mix of fear and anxiety perfect formula to fight against a witch-shifter and deal with Balthazar.

You crossed the corridor leading to a big room illuminated by the moon thanks to an upper small window. Right when you crossed the threshold, you saw the blonde angel facing the older Winchester, who was pointing his gun at him.

“Dean, no!” You shouted pointing your gun to them making the man in the middle turn to you.

“Y/N, it’s not Balthazar” Dean shouted back losing his patience the son of a bitch having taunted him seconds before.

“No!” You cried when Dean was about to shoot but something rather someone grabbed who you thought was Balthazar throwing him forward and making him hit the wall, instantly getting into a fight.

Of course, the actual angel, and not a cheap copy of the whiskey addict angel, was the cause of such commotion. But you didn’t know that, and now more than ever, you couldn't recognize which one was which. None of them had wings. Usually, you were able to see them, but of course, this wasn’t a great moment, complicating things more.

“Y/N, which one is Balthazar?” Dean asked not knowing who was who now that there were two. Both of them having changed positions when fighting and having lost who was on the floor moments before.

“I don’t know, Dean!” You shouted your anxiety hit its maximum “I can’t see his wings. I don’t know” you whispered hoarsely

Dean charged his gun seconds before one of the two Balthazars fell to the floor dead.

You ran from the scene as fast as your legs could take you. You couldn’t bear the pressure and you couldn’t bear the pain. Mind fogged and at a mile per second, as soon as you stepped out of the house, the cold air hit you and you collapsed to the floor, your legs not holding you up anymore.

Not caring that your hands were getting dirty, you grabbed the dirt trying to calm your rapid and labored breaths. But your chest was getting tighter every passing second. For crying out loud, you didn’t even notice your tears breaking free and streaming down your cheeks to the floor. Of course, you didn’t feel a pair of arms lifting you off the floor and holding you to a firm chest either.

“It’s me, It’s just me” Balthazar soothed you holding you tighter to his chest, placing a reassuring hand on your head “It’s okay” He whispered to your hair kissing your head while engulfing the both of you in his fluffy wings. To let you know it was actually him speaking.

You actually started to relax when you heard his soothing voice and felt his wings surround you. The angel took your right hand, the one with the ring he thought he lost, and placed it over his heart, gently pressing on it.

“I was scared I was gonna lose you” you whispered through your tears placing your left cheek on his chest, his heartbeat calming you “Even though might hate me”

“You didn’t and I’m here” Balthazar quickly reassured you “And I don’t hate you,” He said kissing your head again.

“No, you can’t stand me” you continued without listening to him and subconsciously holding him tighter to you “Yet, you somehow always know where I am, and you’re always ready to brag about yourself. Your ego is actually bigger than your true form”

Balthazar couldn’t help but chuckle at that. It was true but the angel only did that because you are an easy target to tease, always having a sassy and witty comeback for him, and funny to annoy.

“You are probably going to kill me or worse, throw a new one at me because I’m ruining your t-shirt.” You rambled on, letting everything out all at once, without any consistency in your speech “Why you weren’t showing your wings?” The angel heard you say “you could have saved us a lot of time. It was because of the sigils? You could have died if someone hurt you. But, you know I can see them, right? Probably, a simple human being able to see your wings is not what you expected. You prob...”

Balthazar couldn’t help but stop your rambling with a searing kiss. Once your brain comprehended what was happening you kissed back for a second, before pulling apart.

“Why did you do that?” you asked closing your eyes while Balthazar rested his forehead in yours “I’m gross and I look horrible”

“I did that because I love you,” The angel said kissing your temple “you’re awesome and you look more than fine to me”

“How?” You whispered taking a step back.

“For the same reason, you kept this” Balthazar said holding your right hand and caressing your knuckles with his thumb, stopping at his ring, bring your hand to his lips and kissing it.

“Do you” you cleared your throat “Do you want it back?”

“Nah, it suits you better” Balthazar shrugged taking a step closer to you and cupping your face with his hands and whipping the tear trails carefully giving you a smile.

The angel kissed you again and you immediately kissed back, this time not breaking the kiss that took your breath again. It felt more than right, you didn’t have the words to describe it and you were sure that fireworks went off. When you pulled apart, after what seemed like an eternity but actually were minutes, you pulled away for breath.

“Come on” Balthazar kissed your forehead and took your small hand in his bigger one “I promised the Winchesters I would bring you safely to the bunker, let’s go”

. . ⋆ ✦ ⊹ · ✵ * * ✺ . + ✫ . · ✦ ˚ . . ⋆ ✦ ⊹ · ✵ * * ✺ . + ✫ . · ✦ ˚ . . ⋆ ✦ ⊹ · ✵ * *✺

Once you set foot on the Bunker, exhaustion took over your body and Balthazar dragged you to the sofa on the makeshift living room, too tired to get to your room, where you collapsed on top of him. you almost drifted off to sleep instantly but felt the angel draped, what you guessed was his blazer around you and kiss your forehead. He watched how your lips turned into a smile and happy with that picked one of your books on the coffee table and started to read while he played with your hair.

Dean, Sam, and Cas were back hours later making a lot of noise while they searched for both of you, but couldn’t find you. The three of them on the way to your room, Sam noticed some light coming through the living room and went to check Dean and Castiel following close behind and saw you cuddled up with Balthazar.

“Pardon me boys” Balthazar spoke startling the hunters “But Y/N here is trying to sleep, she had a rough day, it would be very nice of you if you didn’t make so much noise”

“Right, well, we just...” Dean awkwardly nodded, quickly leaving the situation while the youngest Winchester awkwardly smiled retiring to his room.

Cas simply walked into the living room and took a seat in one of the armchairs next to the TV to watch something that was on. Feeling a pair of eyes on him, the blue-eyed angel turned to his brother.

“I don’t have a TV in my room” Cas explained fumbling with the remote to mute said device.

“Just shut up and don’t make any noise,” Balthazar said simply rolling his eyes and kissed your forehead when he felt you stirring.

One year later...

You had turned your room upside down, searching for the ring but you couldn’t find it. And now you could find less in the mess you’ve created in the process. Coming out from under the bed, you huffed and used the foot of the bed to help yourself to stand up. Maybe wearing heels while searching for a small object was not a great idea. You groaned placing your hands on your hips growing frustrated by the second. Of course, on the day Balthazar decided to do something nice for you, you had to lose the ring you so much liked. You definitely were going to be late on your special day. You let your head hung low in default. A chuckle from behind you made you turn around so fast it almost gave you whiplash .

“Giving up already?” Balthazar said, amusement evident on his face. He was enjoying your little show, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

“Instead of mocking me, you could help me find the ring or tidying up this mess” You sighed walking up to him careful not to trip over something.

“Nah, it’s funnier from this side of the room” your blonde angel joked making you slap his arm, but he simply raised an eyebrow at you. “Is not there any kiss for a poor lonely angel?” the angel complained once you copied him raising your own eyebrow.

“Fine, but because you asked nicely” you sassed walking closer to him making him uncross his arms, his hands instantly going to your waist.

Sneaking your arms around his neck, and in a swift movement, you pulled him towards you, lips crashing against his. He opened them immediately, tongue darting out to claim your mouth, his hands wandering down to your hips to bring you closer towards him, and then roaming across your back.

“Woah” Balthazar breathed when you were finally forced to pull away completely breathless.

“Yeah, Woah” you whispered completely out of breath “By the way, not that I am complaining or anything,” you said hands going to his chest “But why are you back so early? I thought you had some business to attend” you frowned caressing his muscular chest.

“Well, yes” Balthazar nodded while his big hands went to your waist. “But I forgot my blazer, that someone rudely stole. It looks better on you anyway” he accentuated it with a peck to your red lips “And in the search for it, I came across your little show” The angel smirked and went to squeeze your assbutt but you slapped his hand away.

“Oh my god” you groaned stepping out of his arms “Where you here this whole time? You could have at least helped me find the damn ring” You raised your arms annoyed and then crossed your arms over your chest giving him a full view of your cleavage.

“Right” He nodded forgetting what he was about to say for a second “But as I said before, love, the fun is in this side of the room” He smirked leaning again on the door frame crossing his arms.

“You are impossible,” You said rolling your eyes “Can you help me find it or not?” you were starting to get annoyed

“Can I have my blazer back?” Balthazar straitened back and asked you playfully bored.

“But It’s warm” you complained with a pout “Wait!” you called when Balthazar turned to leave missing how he smirked in victory. You begrudgingly took off his jacket and handed it back to him, leaving you only in your strapped little black dress, that hugged your curves and clung to your body as a second skin and Balthazar very much loved, and heels “Now, can you help me or not?”

“Yes,” The blonde angel said rolling his eyes and adjusting his blazer “but first give me your hand” he offered you a hand, making grabby hands at you when you didn’t move. Sighing you extended your right hand to him “That no, the other” You rolled your eyes but complied anyway fighting against a smile that wanted to break free.

Without taking his whiskey-colored eyes from your Y/E/C ones, he slid something into your ring finger. Thinking it was his ring you went to look at it and came face to face with a simple diamond band with the stone shining blue. With wide and teary eyes, you looked at your angel who was smirking.

“Is this...” you whispered not finding your voice.

“A promise of loving you for the rest of my life? Absolutely” He smiled and chuckled at your expression looking down for a second suddenly nervous “So what do you s...” He started to ask but you cut him off with a searing kiss. “Is this a yes?” Balthazar asked breathlessly, for the second time in a row, when you pulled apart resting his forehead in yours and gazing into your beautiful eyes, that were a window to your bright soul, placing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“It’s an of course” You smiled kissing him again, making him hum into the kiss.

“Then I can give you this now,” He said pulling away and grabbed your other hand, placing the ring you were looking for on your other ring finger, once he took it out from his pocket.

“I can’t believe you” you gasped once you realized what he did making you slap his chest.

“Mischief managed” Balthazar chuckled grabbing you by the back of your neck and crashing his lips into yours in another searing kiss.

Thank you all for making me reach my 222 followers I love you all. And of course let me know if you liked this and what you thought about it <3

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thisdiscontentedwinter · 5 years

Text

Stella and the Wolf - Chapter 11

You can read it here on AO3, or check out the Tumblr Chapter Index here.

Stiles knows one thing for certain. He knows that if he and Stella get into the SUV, they’re not getting out again. He also knows that you don’t argue with a person with a gun, however much she’s smiling.

“Okay,” he says, hating the way his voice cracks on that simple word. “Okay, we’re getting in.”

Stella makes a small frightened sound beside him.

He steps forward and opens the back door of the SUV. There’s nobody in the backseat. Good.

The open door gives them a few seconds maybe, where the woman thinks he’s obeying her. And a few seconds where it obscures her vision of them. A few seconds, but he has to use them.

“Run,” he mouths to Stella, and shoves her. And says, aloud, “Okay, we’re getting in.”

A few seconds, and then he’s turning, and running, keeping himself between Stella and the woman. Keeping himself in her line of fire.

“Back up!” the woman yells at the driver. “Back up!”

And the tires of the SUV screech, and the open back door wobbles back and forth like a loose tooth as the SUV spins around in a speedy three-point turn to face them.

“Help!” Stella screams as she runs, and how does she have any breath left in the lungs at all? “Help! Help us!”

Her shoes slap on the pavement as they bolt back toward Deaton’s.

Stella hammers on the glass front door, and Stiles hems her in as the SUV closes on them.

Oh God. They’re sitting ducks now, aren’t they? Stiles shields Stella—tells himself to fall forward to cover her when he’s hit—and then he is falling, but if he’s hurt he can’t feel it, and there’s a strange popping sound, and the SUV is speeding off back into the night.

It takes Stiles a moment to figure out what happened.

It helps that he’s lying on the floor on top of Stella, and Deaton is staring down at them, eyebrows raised.

He opened the door, Stiles figures, and they both tumbled through like skittles.

Deaton isn’t their only audience though.

A man wearing coveralls with the name of the tire place across the street is hurrying toward them too.

“What the hell’s going on?” he asks. “Shit. Is that a bullet hole in your window, Alan?” And he holds up his cell phone. “I called the cops.”

Stiles should panic about that, he thinks, but at the moment he’s way too relieved to actually be alive.

***

Dad turns up, lights and sirens heralding his approach. Well, first Tara turns up, but the second she sees who’s involved, she calls Dad, and Stiles knows there’s no use telling her that it’s not necessary. It’s a lie anyway, because the moment Dad turns up, Stiles goes weak at the knees, and can barely hold himself up long enough for Stella to get her hug before he’s stumbling into Dad’s embrace as well. He’s shaking, and he can’t stop, and Dad rubs his back and makes angry, growling kind of shushing noises that fall somewhere between ‘You’re okay, son’ and ‘I’m gonna kill a motherfucker.’ Stiles finds both sentiments equally comforting, to be honest.

“Heard the little girl yellin’ as she ran down the street,” the guy from the tire place is telling Tara. “By the time I got over here, Alan had already got them inside.”

Stiles inhales heavily. Dad smells of coffee and aftershave.

Dad peels Stiles off him gently. “Talk me through it, kid.”

Stiles sucks in a breath. “We were, we were leaving the clinic, and the black SUV pulled in behind us. I didn’t get the license plate. And the woman in the passenger seat asked if we wanted a ride. I said no, and…” He shudders.

“She pointed a gun at us!” Stella exclaims, sounding more outraged than upset. “So Stiles pretended we were getting in the car, and we ran back here instead.”

“You ever seen this woman before?”

“No,” Stiles says, but he’s got a pretty good idea who it was. “She was blonde. Maybe in her thirties? White. Slim build, I guess. She was wearing a dark jacket, and I didn’t get a look at the driver. I think it was a guy.”

It’s paltry, really, the language used to describe suspects. The woman’s face is burned onto his retinas, but his ability to translate it into words is almost non-existent.

“She had a necklace,” Stella says, and Stiles doesn’t even remember a necklace. “It was silver. It had a dog on it.”

Not a dog, Stiles is suddenly sure. A wolf.

There’s no doubt in his mind the woman was Kate Argent, and he’s going to trawl Allison’s Facebook later to made certain.

“And the license plate started with a six,” Stella adds. “I didn’t see the other numbers or letters through.”

Dad looks to Deaton.

“I’m sorry,” Deaton says. “By the time I got the door open, I only saw their tail lights.”

Stiles watches as Dad’s gaze is drawn to the bullet hole in Deaton’s window.

Attempted abductions are rare, Stiles knows. And so are attempted abductions that end in attempted murder. Sooner or later Dad’s going to have to give voice to what must be a growing suspicion that Stiles and Stella are mixed up in something weird, and that they both know more than they’re telling him.

Stiles hopes it’s later.

“But what were you kids even doing here?” Dad asks, shaking his head helplessly. “I thought you were at home.”

“We, um…” And Stiles has no idea where to go with that.

“They brought me a stray kitten,” Deaton says, rescuing him unexpectedly.

“You found a kitten?” Dad asks, his forehead creasing.

Stiles nods.

“It was lost and sad,” Stella says, making her eyes go big. “We couldn’t just let it go hungry, Dad! I’m calling it Matilda, and can we keep it, please?”

***

Matilda, thank god, is not an imaginary kitten, and Deaton is able to produce it from out the back. It is, however, a boy kitten. A little orange tabby boy. Stella sits on the floor and pets him and coos over him while Dad and Tara go over everything with Stiles and Deaton and the guy from the tire place again.

Despite Stella’s insistence on immediately adopting Matilda, Deaton tells her he’s not quite big enough to go home with anyone yet, but that if Dad is okay with it then they can come and collect him in a week or two.

Dad, Stiles thinks, would agree to absolutely anything at this point. Stiles can tell he’s shaken at how close his kids came to being seriously hurt—or worse—tonight.

He drives them home in the back of his cruiser, and Tara drives Stiles’s Jeep.

“If there’s anything you need to tell me,” Dad begins, and then shakes his head and stops, like he can’t quite bring himself to ask. Like he can’t accuse his kids of lying, even though it’s got to be at least starting to point to that for him now.

Stiles swallows down his guilt, and plays dumb.

***

Dad heads back to work, because one thing about being the Sheriff, Stiles knows, is that it never stops. His kids were almost abducted tonight, but Peter Hale and his nurse are also missing, so Dad doesn’t get to stay home. There’s always something. And lately, in Beacon Hills, all those little somethings have been snowballing into bigger somethings. It’ll be an avalanche in a minute, Stiles thinks wildly as he locks the door behind Dad. An avalanche, and Stiles only hopes that the people he cares about aren’t caught in its path.

Who is he kidding though, really?

The avalanche has already begun, and theres’s no escaping it now.

***

Derek doesn’t answer any of his texts of phone calls. Not even when Stiles tells him that Kate Argent (thanks, Allison’s Facebook!) threatened him and Stella with a gun. Stiles tries not to feel the sting of betrayal.

Maybe Derek’s lost his phone.

Maybe Derek’s dead.

Okay, so Stiles would definitely prefer the first option to the second one, but he can’t deny the fact that the second option would also fully explain why Derek hasn’t answered. And Derek’s not exactly the guy with the best luck in the universe, is he? Who would be surprised if he was dead?

Stiles ignores the jab of pain in his gut that comes with even entertaining that possibility.

But it’s there.

He doesn’t sleep much that night.

***

Dad works through the night, and stops in for breakfast before heading out to work again.

“You go to school,” he says firmly. “You pick Stella up, and come straight back here afterwards. No going out for takeout, or trips to the mall, or kitten rescues, or anything.” He sighs, and rubs a hand over his forehead. “You’re not grounded, kiddo. This isn’t a punishment, okay? I’d just feel a hell of a lot better if I knew you kids were home, instead of gallivanting off around town.”

“That’s us,” Stiles says. “Pair of gallivanters.”

Stella snorts.

“We’ll come straight home,” Stiles says, and means it too. “No more running around town, I promise.”

“Well, except tonight,” Dad says.

Stiles goes completely blank.

“The dance, kiddo,” Dad reminds him. “You’re dropping Stella off with Melissa, remember? And you and Scott are going to the dance.”

Right.

Right, somewhere out there teenagers are having normal werewolf-less lives. Stiles used to be one of them, not that long ago. He even entertained ideas of asking Lydia to the dance—and constructed vivid fantasies where she actually said yes—and somehow he’d completely forgotten it was tonight.

“Oh,” he says, because he is not at all prepared. “Oh, shit.”

“I got your suit cleaned last week,” Dad tells him. “Also, language.”

“Mrs. McCall is going to show me how to make a blanket out of scrap material,” Stella says. “We were going to make it for my bear, but now we can get a basket and put it in it, so we’re ready for when we can bring Matilda home.”

“It’s a boy cat,” Dad says.

Stella looks at him expectantly.

Dad raises his eyebrows. “Matilda is a girl’s name.”

“Well, he doesn’t know that,” Stella points out. “He’s a cat.”

Dad considers that for a moment. “You know what? That’s a fair call, kiddo.”

Stella looks pleased.

“Be good at school,” Dad says to both of them. “Stay safe.”

He says that a lot, but there’s usually not such weight behind the words.

Stiles and Stella both stay in Dad’s hugs for a little longer than usual, and Stiles locks the door after he leaves.

“Are you really going to the dance tonight?” Stella asks once the coast is clear.

“I guess,” Stiles says. “Like, we’ll act normal, right? And sooner or later everything will all blow over?”

Stella’s eight, and the look she gives him tells him that even she thinks that’s bullshit.

“We act normal,” Stiles says, as though repeating it will make it true. “And we just hope that Derek’s okay.”

“And Peter,” Stella says.

“What?”

“We hope that Peter’s okay too.”

“Peter has a body count, Stella.”

She shrugs. “But we’re not on it.”

Like that makes any difference.

Except maybe… maybe it does? Because Peter Hale could have killed them both back in that hospital room, but he didn’t, because they didn’t fit the pattern.

Neither did Laura Hale though, right?

Or maybe Stiles has just been looking at the wrong pattern this whole time.

#discontentedwinter #my fics #Stella and the Wolf #sterek

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lefaystrent · 5 years

Text

Variants ch.2

Fandom: Thomas Sanders, Sanders Sides

Pairings: none

Summary: Patton was surprised by the mutant robbing the jewelry store one night. It was a “right time, right place” circumstance for Patton in that he happened to be there to see them break into the store. And by break in, he meant that they seeped into shadows and appeared on the other side of the windows without breaking anything at all.

Chapter Navigation: one

AO3 Link

“Well this isn’t ideal,” Logan muttered to himself before ducking at another gunshot.

Yes he was being shot at. No this was not according to plan.

If he had the option, Logan would simply use his powers to shove the dumpster he hid behind down the alley and at the angry drug dealers currently shooting at him. There was just one problem.

He didn’t have his glasses.

Telekinesis was certainly a useful and powerful ability, when one could see what and where to move things in the first place.

“Wonderful,” Logan growled to himself. “My greatest weakness: the Velma complex. I should reconsider my thoughts on investing in contact lenses no matter how repulsive the idea is. Then again, it is perfectly suitable for one to be squeamish about foreign objects touching their eyeballs, but I digress. Contacts would not be able to be knocked off so easily from one’s face, and with them one would be able to see where to aim a dumpster at. But jinkies, I’ve lost my glasses. And would you hoodlums stop shooting at me! I am trying to rant, please and thank you.”

“Get out here mutant freak!” one of the shooters yelled from the mouth of the alley.

Logan’s eye twitched. “How polite of you.”

With no other options available and Logan’s patience snapped, he chunked the dumpster down the alley anyway. It would leave him exposed for more time than he was comfortable with, but hopefully his pursuers would be distracted long enough for him to run deeper into the alley system and lose them. Also, for lack of a better term, fuck it.

Logan sprinted at full speed, the sound of gunfire blasting into the night once more. Luckily, he rounded a corner without any bullets hitting him. Beyond the huffing of his breath he could hear the pounding of footsteps following behind.

Objectively, the situation was not good. Logan’s heart thrashed so erratically in his chest at the thought that he might just die here. Adrenaline worked overtime to keep him going, but the world had been reduced to a dark blur and his breaths hitched painfully sharp in his throat.

Logan rounded a corner, scrambling against the brick wall he nearly face-planted into. He picked up the pace when he saw that the end of this particular alley led to somewhere lighter, presumably a street. It’d be more out in the open, giving the gun-wielding criminals the advantage, but there was no going back now.

The yells and pounding steps behind him never stopped. The muscles in his legs burned and threatened to cripple him. Logan cursed himself for not practicing cardio more.

As he reached the mouth of the alley, Logan tripped on something, and next his palms were skinning against the harsh surface of concrete to minimize the damage of his fall. On instinct, Logan rolled over onto his back, ready to use his powers on anything that so much as approached him.

But that’s the thing. Nothing happened.

Over the roaring in his ears and his ragged breathing, Logan squinted at the mass of shadows in the alley, unable to make out anything, sight or sound. There were no more yells, no more gun fire.

Any moment now, one of them would jump out to kill him. He couldn’t let his guard down. His body tensed, a live wire ready to spring into action. All of his senses screamed at him that any second now . . .

Any second . . .

Logan cautiously sat up, gaze never straying from the alley. He didn’t dare hope for a second that his pursuers suddenly lost interest and called off the chase. And the longer he sat there, the more he realized the possibility of a surprise attack from them was also unlikely, given their noisy chase. If anything, they would have ran out and shot him dead.

The fact that Logan wasn’t dead right now meant that something must have gotten to them first.

“Hello?” a voice called out from the alley.

Immediately Logan stiffened. His mind buzzed frantically from thought to thought, unable to settle on anything concise. All he could do was wait until something happened.

“Is that you, Logan?” the voice spoke again, coming closer.

The buzzing in his head stopped. That was his name. This person knew his name.

Friend?

Or foe . . .

A figure finally emerged, completely unrecognizable except that his shape was vaguely human. And tall, much too tall-looking from where Logan sat vulnerably on the ground.

He was half a second away from letting his self-preservation win out and throw this person with his powers, but they said carefully, “Hey, it’s me, Patton, remember?” and the world stopped.

“Patton?” Logan blurted.

The jewelry store. The reaper. The bespectacled man who rode in his car, the one with kindness in his eyes that nearly hid the cleverness underneath.

“It’s really me, kiddo,” came Patton’s reassuring reply. “Guess it’s a small world after all.”

Logan barked out a laugh, caught up in both relief and bemusement. He wanted to flop backwards in an exhausted heap, but he had to know. “My pursuers? What about them?”

“The bad guys with the guns? Oh, I gave them a time-out! Firearms are serious business, and they didn’t even have any carrying permits!”

Logan stared at him incredulously. “You took the time to rifle through their pockets to confirm that?”

Patton’s hands flew up to his mouth in a gasp. “Did you just make a pun?”

“What? No, I mean, at least not intentionally.”

“Well shoot, it sure did seem like it.”

Logan really did flop on his back this time. “I just nearly died and you’re partaking in the lowest form of comedy. Unbelievable.”

Patton leaned over him. This close, Logan could discern an apologetic smile. “Sorry ‘bout that. I’m just glad I managed to cut them off in time.” He held out a hand in offer.

Logan took it and was on his feet quicker than he thought he’d be. Patton steadied him. “Your assistance is appreciated. When you say ‘cut them off’, by that you mean . . .?”

“I uh . . . kinda knocked them out? Don’t worry though! They should be okay after a while. It’s just that I heard the gunfire and came running, and when I saw them chasing someone down I knew I had to act fast.”

“Wait, so you just happened to be in the area?” Logan asked, because surely not . . .

“How else would I have known to come help?” Patton responded, eyes bright with a sincerity that Logan didn’t doubt. While Logan was beside himself processing this, Patton busied himself checking Logan over for injuries. He still had hold of his arms and turned his hands over, palms up. “Logan! Your hands, you’re hurt!”

“Just scratches,” Logan murmured absently.

For days on end, Logan had been tracking down the drug dealers, surveying where they operated, finding them to work out of a shabby motel downtown. And here Patton had just been in the right place at the right time?

Of all the odds . . .

“Patton,” Logan cut him off mid-ramble. Patton trailed off and looked at Logan questioningly, worryingly, his eyes warm in the glow of the street lamp.

“You’re not wearing your glasses,” he stated.

“Indeed. We need to get out of here. Did you happen to drive here, by chance?”

Logan had parked too close to the motel. He had intended to make a quick getaway after putting a stop to the drug dealers. Now it would be a risk to return to it in the event that the authorities had been alerted and were already there (which was highly likely, with that much gunfire giving them away). Thankfully, Patton had parked some streets down in the opposite direction.

“But what about your car?” Patton asked him as they walked at a brisk pace.

“I’ll have to come back for it at another time, when things have quieted.” Logan only hoped that it wouldn’t be broken into or stolen until then. “In the meantime, I shall find alternative transportation to get around.”

“If you think that’s best . . .” Patton conceded reluctantly.

They were traversing through a neighborhood of apartment buildings and homes now. A couple of them had lights on inside, but most were silent and the only other sign of life the two saw was a passing truck.

“So what happened back there?” Patton asked, filling in the silence. “Are you really okay, Logan?”

“Rest assured, I am not injured.” Logan winced after saying that. Now that the adrenaline was easing off, he could feel a throbbing in his head. “Mostly, at least. I had planned to confront those criminals in the motel room that they were running drug deals out of. What I did not account for was the motel manager being involved. They snuck up behind me, distracting me enough that one of them threw something at my head, knocking my glasses off. I could not locate them before I was forced to . . . before I initiated a tactical retreat.”

“You mean ran away?”

Logan scowled and coughed. “While not completely inaccurate, I believe the way I phrased it has better connotations.”

“It’s okay. People waving around guns can be scary,” Patton said, and the way he smiled reminded Logan that he was walking beside someone who probably had worse experiences than what he had faced tonight. With his cheery disposition and his deplorable love of puns, Logan had almost forgotten that Patton was a veteran.

“Quite,” Logan agreed. Curiosity lingered, imploring him to ask Patton about his service time, but he refrained. It would be intrusive.

Resisting temptation, he automatically went to straighten his tie only to drop his hands. While his current attire was more suitable for crime-fighting, he would rather be in his usual business-casual wear than a hoodie and jeans.

He cleared his throat again. “Though your assistance has been most useful tonight, I would typically have been fine managing on my own, if not for my lack of glasses.”

“Wowzers, that must be tough. I can’t even imagine not being able to see well enough to get around.”

Logan looked at him in deep confusion. “What are you talking about? We’re the same, or even if you are closer to twenty-twenty than I am, we are still in a similar state.”

Patton just stared at him with a ‘huh?’ expression, completely lost. Surely he was joking.

“Patton, you wear corrective lenses the same as I do. Therefore, it should not be all that hard to imagine yourself in my situation.”

It dawned on him slowly, the dots connecting one by one. Patton stopped walking and blinked at nothing, eyes wide. Then in a flurry of over-dramatic gestures, he laughed and talked fast. “Oh right! Completely forgot there for a sec, so used to wearing my glasses. Yep, can’t see a thing without them!”

Logan said nothing, but he couldn’t shake the distinct notion that Patton was lying. It would be an innocuous thing to lie about, so why would he? And yet, it reminded Logan of that night they first met when Patton denied being a mutant. There was something about his mannerisms, a vague thing that Logan loathed himself for not being able to pin down. He worked best with concrete evidence, but he couldn’t deny that Patton struck a familiar cord in him.

After all, when Logan wasn’t out patrolling the city at night, he pretended to be an ordinary citizen as well.

The two vigilantes made it out intact that night. To be sure that the police located the drug dealers left in the alley, Logan phoned in an anonymous tip. Patton gave him a ride home. More than that, he gave him his number.

“It’s good to have friends at your back, and we make a good team. Don’t ya think?” Patton offered with a wink and a smile.

They weren’t friends. Not really. Allies would be a closer term to what they truly were. And in this line of business, even those could be a liability.

Then again, if he learned anything that night, his own shortcomings could leave him at risk. And he’d rather not experience such a blind panic ever again.

Patton’s number found a place in his contact list. Logan told himself that this would be the alternative to contact lenses.

Weeks went by, crime in the city ensued, and Logan and Patton faced it together more often than not. As Patton had said before, they did indeed make a good team. While Logan had a knack for tactics, Patton was startlingly adept at reading people. More than once Logan had watched him disarm people by words alone.

“Do you have powers of persuasion?” Logan asked at one point.

Patton laughed as if he had told a good joke. “No, I’m just a dad.”

It frustrated Logan. Because for one, Patton had no biological children to speak of. For another, Patton’s true power continued to elude Logan, leaving nothing but inklings for him to trail clumsily after. When he had initially begun crime fighting, it had been out of a strong sense of justice and the ability to do something about it. Nowadays, Logan chased after the mystery Patton presented for him. If he paid attention, he’d notice when Patton slipped up.

When the time came, it wasn’t so much that Patton slipped up.

Logan had been grocery shopping when it happened. He perused the fresh produce, almost absently answering his phone.

“Logan!” Patton said before he had a chance to greet him. It had only been one word, but it was hurried and frantic.

The produce immediately lost all his attention. This was more important. “What’s wrong, Patton?”

“Hartview Bridge, possible bombing, too far away to confirm yet. I’m almost there, where are you?”

A . . . terrorist attack? Patton sounded as if he were running, running straight to the potential terrorist attack. There had been a potential terrorist attack and Logan just stood there, staring at zucchini, wondering where he fit into all this.

Still processing, Logan answered mechanically, “I’m at the grocery, the Miller’s Fresh Foods on Second Street.”

“Good, that’s not too far. Hurry, Logan.”

Logan shook his head, brows furrowed. “Why? What can we do? It’s the middle of the day. Surely the proper authorities are already handling it. We would just out ourselves—”

“Oh my God,” Patton gasped, cutting him off. Logan knew that it wasn’t because of what he had been saying. Ice prickled in his stomach.

“Patton? Patton, what happened?”

“It’s collapsed, the bridge, I see it,” he responded, voice thick with emotion. “Parts are still collapsing, they’re falling in—”

A rush of background noise filtered through. Then the line went dead.

Logan abandoned his shopping cart without a second thought and booked it to his car. He didn’t even put on his seat belt. He floored it through traffic. Any cops that would have pulled him over for speeding were already speeding themselves. But closer to the river where the bridge crossed, a wall of traffic halted any more progress. Logan couldn’t see much from here, but other people were getting out of their vehicles or running down the sidewalk, some away and some towards the bridge. Logan jumped out as well.

The sun was shining bright, not a cloud in the sky, mocking in its ideality. There were people everywhere, many of them pulling out their phones to record the chaos. There would be nowhere to hide here, not like he was used to during his nightly patrols.

But Patton was up there, and if he waited any longer the police would section off the entrance in a security perimeter.

Pedestrians either ducked out of his way or were pushed through. Logan didn’t have time for politeness. As he neared the bridge, he could see where vehicles had crashed into each other, some of them toppled, some on fire, creating a mess of mazes and barriers. Up towards the halfway point, the overarching steel beams had collapsed where the bridge caved in, making the structure look as if a giant hand had smashed down through the center.

Logan didn’t realize he had stopped running to take it all in. He’d never seen such chaos and destruction. Smoke filled the air and people ran past him in various states of injured. He swallowed roughly, forcing himself to stay composed.

Muffled yelling broke through to him. Nearby, a damaged car sat. The driver’s side door was bent from some form of impact (a collision with another vehicle?), and the woman behind the window beat frantically to get his attention.

Logan ran over to it, stumbling over debris. He tried the handle, but the door was too damaged.

He cursed. Now that he was here, there was no choice.

“Lean back!” he yelled to her so that she could hear him. She did as told, too scared to do otherwise.

It would be too risky to mess with the glass. Logan held his hands up, focusing on the seam of metal where it should open. A wave of blue-green energy washed over it. He balled his glowing hand into a fist and yanked with all his might, forcing the door to open, almost tearing it from its hinges. The woman screamed, covering her face with her right arm. The left one was held against her as if hurt.

“Can you walk?” Logan asked, willing away the light from his eyes so as not to scare her further. She looked at him, shakily nodding. “Good. Here—”

He helped her stand, and once she had her feet under her, she gave him a watery smile. “Thank you,” she said before fleeing as fast as she could off the bridge.

Logan picked his way through the wreckage, yelling for Patton when he could but becoming quickly distracted each time his help was needed. A group of people were trying to move rubble off an unconscious man. Logan moved it with his powers. A car exploding sent shrapnel flying. Logan sent a wave of force to push someone down before they could be decapitated, and at the same time he caught a child before they fell through the bridge’s broken railing to the river below. One of the steel arches above groaned and snapped with a horrible shudder. Logan threw up his hands, wrapping the broken beam in light. The weight of it proved to be too much, but he managed to slow its heavy descent enough and maneuver it to fall safely.

One thing after the other, Logan saved whoever he could and prevented further injury when possible. Surprisingly, the first responders neither feared nor stopped him. In fact, they grasped that he was there to help and soon were directing him to where he was needed next. At one point, a firefighter hopped onto the bed of a truck, waving his arms to get his attention.

“Over here! Mutant guy, over here!” he yelled, and Logan followed. He had been gravitating towards the middle of the bridge all this time, where a sizeable chunk had caved in and nothing but empty space lingered. For the first time, Logan got an unobscured view of it.

The road ended in an abrupt jagged edge, pieces of it still crumbling off. On the other side of the gap, there was just as much disorder and people trying to survive.

“LOGAN!” a voice screamed, jarring him out of his shock.

He looked to his right where a city bus had plowed through the railing. The length of it was almost entirely over the edge, the back of it held up only by Patton himself. He gripped it underneath and somehow kept it from tipping over. His biceps bulged from the effort. Patton’s feet dug into the ground, leaving behind warped tracks as he was pulled forward minutely.

Patton’s glasses were cracked and a line of blood seeped down his face from a cut on his temple. His eyes were pleading. “I can’t hold it.”

However strong Patton truly was (and it was now apparent that it was supernatural), he couldn’t pull the bus up.

Surging into action, Logan held up his hands. His telekinesis, while strong enough to lift a dumpster, couldn’t lift something as heavy as a bus. Not alone, that is. With his powers and Patton’s superior strength, they managed to pull the bus backwards, inch by painful inch, until all of its wheels sat on a stable surface. The first responders dove in after that, helping people off the bus and escorting them to safety.

Both he and Patton were panting from their combined effort, hands on knees bent over as they tried to catch their breaths.

“Not a mutant, huh?” Logan gasped out.

Patton sent him a tired glare. “Lo . . . shut your ever-flapping gob smacker.”

Logan snorted, but agreed that now wasn’t really the time to have this conversation. Not with people dying and everyone starting to look to them for answers.

“Oh, would ya look at that bird,” Patton commented, and Logan stood up straight to see a helicopter hovering in the near distance. A news helicopter, filming everything including them.

He groaned. “You do realize that we’ll never be able to return to our regular lives now, don’t you?”

Patton pulled off his glasses and tossed them aside carelessly. He didn’t squint after, proving that he never truly needed them. He stood there proudly, hands on hips and back straight.

“It’s a little scary, isn’t it?” he grinned, bumping shoulders with Logan. “But I don’t regret it. How ‘bout you, partner?”

“I regret many things,” Logan deadpanned, making the other laugh.

“That’s the spirit!” Patton clapped him on the back. “Handle things on this side, okay kiddo? They look like they could use some help over there.”

“What do you . . .” Logan began in confusion before Patton performed a running leap over the broken gap, launching himself high into the air before landing safely on the other side.

Logan adjusted his tie, disgruntled.

“Incredible. He calls me ‘kiddo’ and then proceeds to yeet himself over a broken bridge. I am a grown man, you know.”

He turned away to get back to work.

tag list: @spectralheartt @a-pastel-pan @merlybird500 @mirror2thespirit (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list)

#I guess I'm writing a full story now?#because I was inspired and hate myself #and people seemed to like this au?#gee wiz #sanders sides #superhero au #patton #patton sanders #logan #logan sanders #virgil #virgil sanders #writing #fanfiction #vairants

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turdblossommm · 6 years

Text

Hidden Healing {3}

Summary: Steve’s got a big secret he’s keeping form the team, and it’s you and your daughter. He took a page out of the Clint Barton playbook and put you on a huge farm and hide you away form the world, or just Hydra. Your ties to them make it dangerous for you to be out in the real world. When Steve gets hurt and you are the only one that can help he puts his family’s safety in question.

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Reader x Bucky (Platonic)

A/N: Hey guys since Infinity Wars has got me feeling angsty, I got and angsty couple of parts for you guys. I hope you enjoy it and the gif isn’t mine

Masterlist

Steve stay for the remainder of the week, help you around the house and using as much time as he could with Sarah. The two were off somewhere and you sat on the porch with Bucky. You sipped your coffee in peace watching the animals move along the property.

“Did you ever think you’d get out of there?” Bucky turned to you and you sipped the hot coffee

“I thought I’d die with Hydra, shit Bucky I hoped for it every day” He looked at you with knowing eyes

“I get it, sometimes I wish I died when I fell off that train” You nodded

“I wish I was never a mutant, I could’ve just finished my Red Room training and ran away” You sighed “But I would’ve never got Steve or Sarah, or experience true happiness” You looked over at Bucky “You’ll find someone”

“What’s it like?” Bucky blue eyes bore into yours

“What?”

“Being in love, having someone you can constantly to depend on” You smiled thinking of Steve

“Writers will make it out to be this grandiose thing and people fall in love with the sheer thought of love. They make it sound like something so big and scary, but its like breathing. Humans are not solitary creature and they can practically fall in love with anyone or anything. You can love everyone in this world but you can only love one person unconditionally. And that takes your breath away, it’s like a certain freshness and a softy net all at once” You smiled at Bucky

“And until you find that person, we will always be here for you Bucky. Even if it take another hundred years” You punched his shoulder to lighten the mood. He cracked a smile and turned back to his coffee and paper. You turned to look over the horizon to see Steve walking with Sarah. You smiled, he was so good with her, you wished her was here more for her. You felt like he was missing her childhood, soon she’ll be school age and start figuring out that her dad’s always gone. You fear the possibility of resentment

“Hey doll” Steve bent down and kissed your cheek as Sarah climbed in you lap

“How was the walk?” You asked you daughter and she launched into an animated story about the walk. In the afternoon Bucky took Sarah off your hands so you and Steve could be alone since it was their last day. Steve’s hand rested on your exposed belly as you laid in bed after certain activities took place

“I love you” You murmured into his chest and is kissed the top of your head

“I love you too”

“I hate when you leave”

“Me too doll, but someone’s got to save the world” You shook your head

“You saved it enough times” You grumbled

“Y/N”

“I know, I know. I just miss you” You kissed his lips and curled into his side and eventually slipped into a deep slumber

In the morning you made everyone breakfast and it was a quieter breakfast, even Sarah seemed to know they were leaving today. When 11 o’clock came around they packed their bag and threw them in the truck.

“Come back whole” You kissed Steve and turned to Bucky

“Keep an eye on him” He hugged you

“Always do” He kissed your cheek and then they were gone. You busied your self for the rest of the day, trying not to think about sleeping alone tonight.

Once Steve and Bucky arrive at the tower they were called into a series of meetings and introduced to a long list of mission for the next six months. Steve panicked inside, he can’t be away for six months especially now that you’re pregnant. Tony ended the meeting and Steve followed everyone in the training room. Steve fought with Sam, he landed a solid easy punch to Steve’s face

“You okay?” Sam leaned over Steve and he nodded “You sure? You seem pretty out of it” Sam gave him a sideways glance

“I’m fine”

The team was a month in to the non stop mission and it was taking a toll on them. They were exhausted but the trail was hot and they couldn’t stop. Steve tried to get messages to you but he didn’t have reception or a cell, it was always something.

Luckily the next mission was a simple recon, in and out and then they get a small break over the weekend. Turns out the ‘empty’ warhorse wasn’t empty. No one came prepaired for the fight like this, bullets we flying and Steve lost his shield along the way. He was back to back with Bucky, he fought anyone who got close enough in hand to hand while Bucky shot the Hydra agent in the distance. No one saw it coming, Bucky did but it was too late and three bullets were shot into Steve’s chest

“Steve’s down, I’m taking him to the jet” Bucky yelled over the coms and threw Steve over his shoulder and fought his way to Bruce on the Quinjet. He placed him on the table and Banner went to work. Steve may be a super solider, but he wasn’t immortal. Tony waved the white flag and pulled everyone back to the jet and tried to get back to the compound as fast as he could.

Once they arrived Steve was conscious again, Bruce hadn’t been able to make and progress on Steve since all the bullets were next to his heart and going towards

“Were looking at a Tony situation” Bruce said referring to the scrap metal that was once closing in on Tony’s heart. Bucky paced the room and looked at Steve

“I have to call her”

“No leave her out of this” Steve snapped

“Are you kidding me Steve?” Bucky looked at him “She maybe the only one who can save you Steve and what about Sarah? Are you going-“

“Bucky stop, if she does this it will hurt her and maybe kill the baby” Steve glanced at an eavesdropping Bruce

“You stop Steve! Are you really going to leave them alone?” Bucky looked at him best friend dumbfounded

“You’ll watch over them” Steve replied looking away

“She’ll hate you and the kids will resent you, just like you did your old man. You’re going to leave them like he left you and your mom? Send Y/N to an early grave and leave the kids struggle” Bucky guilted him

“Stay out of my marriage Bucky” Steve growl

“Then stop being an ass” Bucky slammed his hand on the table “I’m calling her, I don’t care what you say, I’m not going to watch you destroy your family and make the same mistake your dad did” Bucky left he room and flipped open his phone and his finger hovered over your name. He leaned his head against the wall, was he doing the right thing? Of course he was, Steve was about to leave you with two kids in a world where you don’t exist. He pressed your name and placed the phone next to his ear

A month went by without so much as a text from Steve and it worried you. Normally he tries to check in a least once a day. You paced the kitchen and nearly jumped out of your skin when your phone rang. Caller ID ready Bucky’s name and you thought that was odd.

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/N” Bucky’s voice was shaky

“What’s wrong?” You started panicking, thinking the worst

“We need you in the city, It’s Steve” Everything inside you wanted to ask a millions questions, but you stoped yourself. Whatever it is, it’s urgent. He wouldn’t call you if it wasn’t

“Give me an hour”

“Drive safe, I’ll text you the address” He clicked the phone off and you ran up the stair to grab your go bag and Sarah’s. You quietly pulled a sleeping Sarah out of her bed and strapped her in the car seat. You made it to the city and hour later just as the sun was rising

“Mommy where are we?” Sarah tiny voice asked as you parked

“We’re going to help uncle Bucky” You turned her

“Are we going to see Daddy?” you gave her a weak smiled

“I don’t know sweetie, hopefully” You turned to the front and wiped the stray tear away and looked up a the compound before you.

Tag list

@astudyoftimeywimeystuff @thewhinersoldier

#Bucky Barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #1940s bucky barnes #sad bucky #Steve Rogers #Sebastian Stan #The First Avenger #chris evans #steve rodgers imagine #winter solider imagine #steve rogers imagine #marvel #Avengers #dad!steve #mutant #mutant reader

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