#all of this while dealing with the fear of getting left behind and ending up alone because she feels like shes falling behind her friends

[rotting-brains]

they couldn't do a mcsm season 3 because if petra had to suffer for plot reasons for a single other episode she would die

[paracosmicka]

Primal Fears AU content but don’t worry it’s still sonadow

That last one is a repost from last year so if you saw the silly drawings but then read the thing in the bottom left corner and went “wait what the fuck”

It’s because it was an AU thing but I literally only had that drawn out and now you get some context at least:

In this universe Sonic is an assassin/bounty hunter/whatever you wanna call a guy that is hired to specifically to kill other Entities. He meets Shadow when they run into each other because they’re both following the same Avatar. Then they do the normal canon sonadow thing where the first interaction they have always ends with them fighting and beating the shit out of each other. And then they kinda calm down but then Shadow has a similar moment from the beginning of the IDW Sonic comics where he gets absolutely pissed that Sonic managed to distract him from catching the bad guy and zooms away before the two have another chance to speak again.

Here Shadow is a GUN field agent except in this universe GUN isn’t really military and it’s more focused on not only investigating (like the Magnus Institute) but also actively dealing with the Entities. Which sounds great except remember how I said they aren’t military well actually they kinda are because “dealing” with Entities and Avatars just means: throw it in the high-security prison that is guarded by other various Avarars that all work for GUN because it means they don’t have to get thrown in prison. So GUN is kinda like The Magnus Institute + Section 31 working together. So actually I guess it’s like the SCP Foundation.

One day Shadow goes into work and Sonic and there and I’m not really sure on what I’m gonna do in the plot to make him end up there (like maybe he’s undercover and just using GUN to get to his next target or maybe GUN does the “hey we’re gonna throw you in jail if you don’t agree to work for us” idk again not sure yet) but now he’s working with Shadow because they still need to catch that Avatar.

So now we’re sorta caught up, they’re at Club Rouge (and I realized I didn’t specify which Entity she serves in my drawing of her but people who guessed the Stranger ding ding ding here have some sonadow) because Sonic and Shadow need to kinda interrogate Surge and Amy, who are associated with the Slaughter. They have a band called Poison Rose and it’s basically just Grifter’s Bone but they perform rock music instead. And are also probably dating.

Anyway the Big Case™️ Sonic and Shadow are working on is investigating a bunch of spooky murders and they’re pretty sure whoever’s behind them is a Slaughter avatar. But not specifically Amy and Surge☝️ They’re kinda “allowed” to perform the Music That Makes You Die because GUN also has like an “informant” group of avatars they can rely on. These avatars don’t work for GUN, but they agree to chill out on the spooky stuff if it means they don’t get arrested for spooky crimes. So for Poison Rose, “chilling out” on the spooky stuff means that they have to force people to wear earplugs while they perform, which wasn’t specifically stated in MAG 42 if that works or not, not really sure of the magic rules of the Music That Makes You Die phenomena but yeah they gotta do that and probably some other stuff so GUN doesn’t arrest them. Like maybe no swearing or something lol.

Okay gonna stop there before this gets even longer explaining my AU because this was supposed to be just a normal sketch post but whoops.

Oh also I made a playlist for the kind of music Poison Rose performs but it was made private because I didn’t want anyone to stumble across it and be like “pshhhh this dumb person who makes public playlists of their AU that no one knows about what a loser” (me when I make up completely unrealistic scenarios in my head) but now here’s a post explaining that part of my AU so that person can’t make fun of me anymore

[quietplace26]

SAGAU au, but MC is the actual IMPOSTER, and the real CREATOR is a selfish asshole.

Imagine a MC who knew about the SAGAU aus from Tumblr, and who woke up one day in Genshin Impact, right outside Mondstadt.

They at first feel amazement, but then they see the statues... with their face. They realize then they were in a true SAGAU cult situation.

With this fact, they decided to test something. They prick their finger. Their blood is red, not gold. They weren't the CREATOR. They were the IMPOSTER.

Imagine how with this knowledge, the MC decides to stay away from all the nations and people. They didn't want to be mistaken as the CREATOR after all.

Because really, even if they did take over the CREATOR's throne for a bit until the true CREATOR arrived, what's to say all of Teyvat would take their lies nicely. They didn't want to die, thank you!

So, imagine MC hiding out in the wilderness, avoiding the whole cast of Genshin as the true CREATOR arrived and took the throne.

Only... the CREATOR wasn't like how the scriptures said. They were rude, arrogant, lazy, selfish even! ...But the people of Teyvat forgave them because oh, their grace was tired after their long journey, they deserve to be spoil. They would show everyone their love when they're better... Right?

Only, they didn't. The CREATOR remained how they were, and even Archon's themselves could only take so much...

Which is why it was Venti who happens upon the MC first.

Venti, who was tired from their precious CREATOR's tasks and 'love', happens upon a MC who gathering firewood for her tiny modest cottage. And he's like, who's this? An IMPOSTER with his grace's face? And before he could reach for his bow to enact 'justice'... His stomach growls.

MC, despite their fear... invites him to have dinner with them.

The Ameno Archon ends up staying the whole night, venting loudly as the MC refilled some dandelion wine they found left behind by some treasure holders while scavenging.

"Y-you're so nice, hic, w-why couldn't you have been the CREATOR..." Venti slurs, letting MC tuck him into their sole bed and he drifts off to sleep...

This whole interaction leads to a domino effect, as more of the Mondstadt characters stumble across the MC... and begin thinking along the same lines as Venti.

Why couldn't this person have been the CREATOR?

Soon it was open secret among the people of Mondstadt, and MC would have guests or travelers from Mondstadt camping out near their home while they were out in the Mondstadt wildness doing work and stuff.

Like it wasn't uncommon for Bennet or Amber to stop by as they did their routes, along with some the knights and Mondstadt adventurers, who mostly was just checking on MC or visiting with some supplies that just happened to have on hand.

This also weirdly included Dvalin, of all things. As MC woke up one morning to find the Ameno dragon snoozing on their front lawn like a cat napping under the sun.

All he tells MC is that Venti said they were nice, and he'd like him.

...At least MC had someone to nap with when Venti couldn't visit. Dvalin's fluff was so soft! The perfect pillow!

They were also even pleasantly surprised when Diona and Klee showed up one morning with some snacks... and a brand-new deck of TCG, just for MC.

With deck on hand, it wasn't uncommon for some of MC's visitors to pull them into a game. Though things did get awkward when someone drew the CREATOR card, which they immediately chucked into MC's fireplace with a huff and curse, breaking the awkward air with giggles.

Albedo, with his artsy self, even made MC a card that represented themselves, which was a sweet gift.

Though all the joy comes to an end when someone snitches. Apparently, a traveler from a different nation, caught sight of MC in the woods while on foot to Mondstadt and immediately told the CREATOR about an IMPOSTER on the loose!

Venti of course was one of the first to be sent out to deal with 'it'. Ugh, it made him sick at hearing the MC be refered as an 'it'. But he quickly finds them, helps them pack their things, and smuggles them to the border that led into Liyue.

There were tears as MC hugged Venti, whispering a quiet, "Thank you, Venti... Tell the others I'll miss them? A-and please don't drink too much, ok?" They had a shaky smile on their face, and Venti just hugs them one more time before pushing them towards Liyue.

And as MC disappears into the distance Venti prays that Morax and Liyue would see what he and Mondstadt saw in MC once the time came...

"...Be safe, MC. May the winds guide you to freedom..."

[teddybeartoji]

zombie apocalypse au where you end up in a settlement and meet a cutiepie satoru. he's lived almost his entire life there – sure, he goes on runs every once in a while but you've been out there. it's different.

right?

the dark bags under your eyes have yet to fade but satoru has never heard you complain. he knows everybody gets a talk when they first come to this place; where they can get help, who they can talk to when if they have any problems. if you can't sleep. or eat. or if you still feel restless. it's understandable that the change from having to fight for your life on a daily basis to not even having to carry a gun with you is hard.

the food tastes weird when you're not starving and drinking water seems like a complete waste when you're not dying of thirst. the bed you sleep on is too soft, the sheets feel like silk and it makes your skin itch. it's off-putting.

and yet, not a single complaint has left your lips. you observe your surroundings while handing out pretty little smiles like they're candy. you say thank you and goodbye, you offer to help out with the chores that weren't even yours to begin with and you're willing to entertain the kids with silly jokes. it's an almost perfect mask.

but you're tense; your eyes are always scanning your environment despite the fact that you've been at the settlement for almost a week now. you stretch your lips to show your gratitude, but satoru sees the way your fist tightens whenever the room is too crowded. the way you pocket smaller snacks when you think that nobody is looking. the way you flinch at a faraway sound of a child's laugh.

satoru finds you utterly intriguing.

people come and go, but you... there's something different about you.

maybe it's the dark, murky look in your eyes whenever you're handling a knife. carving a piece of meat like it's something you do every day; your eyes are the only things that change – you give a small smile to the lady working next to you as a thank you for whatever kind of advice she just gave you. she pats the steak while laughing and satoru doesn't miss the way your lips twitch.

you lick the remnants of the meat that stick to your fingers, the liquid that dribbles down the side of your hand the second she turns around. and satoru can't look away.

but there's no obvious malice.

it's interesting.

satoru is no detective, but he's done his fair share of people looking. what else is there to do when you're locked behind big walls; people are interesting, especially now that the world has ended. they tick faster, they explode bigger. they shiver more, they cry more. the lies have more consequences. it's hard to trust others, it's hard to trust anybody at this point. but satoru's eyes are keen, more so than anyone else's there.

you're not some caged beast, you're no dog on a leash, but you're an animal nonetheless. satoru just doesn't know which one yet. which of the living things that reside in the woods is calm enough to get so close to other people? confident enough. arrogant enough.

which one of them is as curious as you are? as sly? which one of them knows how to hide their sharp teeth behind a warm smile? satoru promises to himself that he'll figure it out, no matter what it takes.

or maybe the 'something' is the way you handle yourself when things go south. you didn't look away when a walker that managed to slip in through the gates sank his teeth into a man's neck. when everybody else was in shock, their eyes set on the gory sight in front of them – you were the first to grab the closest thing resembling a weapon and to deal with it.

blood splattered all over your clean clothes, your hair, your face. but you paid it no mind. this is what you're used to, this is what's normal. taking a knife to the poor wailing man laying on the ground was nothing special either. you kneeled down beside him and looked him in the eyes as you did it.

desperate hands reached out for you as fear settled in his stomach. he grabbed onto the collar of your shirt and pulled you closer, pleas stumbling from his lips like a waterfall. but to you, he was dead already. there's no remorse, there's no guilt. you're not a killer, you're a survivor.

satoru's mind raced as he watched you work while all the other had turned away, their sobs barely reaching his ears. no remorse, no guilt.

he just thought the blood looked beautiful on you.

but you're keen, too.

you try not to pay him too much attention, you try not to look but you feel his curious eyes wherever you go. you hear him laugh and you see his big smiles. he likes to play with the kids and he likes to tease his peers. he seems to know just about everybody, mingling in their lives by acting like a cupid or just indulging in gossip like some high schooler.

but something rotten sprouts deep inside him as well.

there's blood on his hands and you know it the second your gazes meet from across the big dining hall. the corners of his eyes crinkle and his dimples make a show as he gives you a grin, sharp teeth shining right at you. he knows you and you know him.

a survivor always recognizes a survivor.

[booksandteaandtears]

Teaching Hospital

Michael 'Dr. Robby' Robinavitch x f!prosecutor!reader

Summary: You're a prosecutor and end up in the Pitt with a dislocated shoulder. You're a teaching case for Javadi and Dr. Robby supervises. Supervision turns into flirting quite easily

genre: pure fluff, smart and older female reader, flirty!Robinavitch, reader takes the first step, Dana is a wingwoman, Javadi is scared she'll mess up

about 1.4 k words

masterlist and I wrote a part 2

You had walked into the Pitt, your left arm supporting you right, two cops trailing you with worry. You'd told them several times already that it was your own fault for deciding to hop aboard their patrol. After two decades of relying on police investigations in the courtroom, you had wanted to see more of the process, but you were regretting it now.

You knew a lot of police work was dealing with rowdy drunks, even around noon on a weekday, so you'd stayed back when the cops had stopped outside a bar downtown. You had been so focused on what was happening in front of you that you hadn't seen the guy coming from your right. And now you were in a busy ER, holding your arm because it felt like it was going to get ripped from its socket.

Once you'd been triaged, given a sling and the doctors had decided you weren't badly injured, the cops you'd been with apologised and continued their shift. Your jacket had been cut open to access your injury, so the remaining half was draped over your right shoulder. The painkillers started to work after a while. You sat on a sticky plastic chair, surrounded by the nightly clientele of the Pitt, wishing you'd brought your laptop. You made do with your phone, pinching your eyes to read through the case you'd been sent that morning.

You were so caught up in it, that you didn't notice a deep voice calling your last name until he was right in front of you. A pair of soft brown eyes was looking at you, with a nice looking face to match. "Shoulder that needs resetting, that's you right?" He asked. "Sure, yes, sorry!" You apologised. "I got caught up in work, barely notice anything around me when I get into it." The doctor laughed softly at you and gestured towards an open bed. "You take a seat, I'm going to get a medical student and then we'll get about putting your shoulder back in the right way." You nodded and shuffled yourself on the bed awkwardly, trying not to make wild moves and make your arm worse.

The doctor came back with a petite girl who was smiling sweetly at you, but you could see the fear in her eyes. "Right," the bearded doctor said, "I'm Dr. Robinavitch, this is Dr. Javadi, our med student. She put a hip back in place last week, so she'll be trying your arm this time, this being a teaching hospital and all. I'm just here for support." Javadi cleared her throat and looked at the chart. "You've been given pain medication when you came in, correct?" You nodded and smiled at the girl. She was radiating anxiety and you could see her swallowing her fear. "It says here you were trailing with the police when someone knocked you down, is that correct." You nodded again. "And you work as a prosecutor here in Pittsburgh?" You sighed, "Yup, I got myself into this mess trying to get some hands-on experience." Dr. Robinavitch smirked from behind his med student. "Guess you're not trying that again anytime soon?" You laughed, wincing slightly as you moved your arm. "I'll be sticking to court for the next while, I think."

You smiled back at the doctor while Javadi prodded around your shoulder softly. His brown eyes focused on the student's hands, giving soft directions on what she should feel for. You were enjoying yourself, spending some time looking at him. Smart, ambitious men had always been your type. Bonus points if they looked cute. You startled and gave a small moan when Javadi prodded a particularly tender part of your shoulder, and she jumped back in worry.

You tried to make light of the situation to take some of the stress away. "Don't worry, Dr. Javadi, if you hurt me I'll only prosecute you for injuring a public official." You smiled up at her and saw that your joke did not have the desired effect. All the blood had left Javadi's face.

Dr. Robinavitch cleared his throat and Javadi turned to face him. "Go get the type of sling she'll need, take a breath, then you'll put it back." Javadi nodded and rushed off. "Sorry," Dr. Robinavitch said, "teaching hospital means teaching moments sometimes." You smiled up at him. "That's alright, Dr. Robinavitch, that's how we all were, those first years on the job. I called a judge mom in my first month, was about to quit then and there. Glad I stuck to it though." He laughed. "Dr. Robby." You raised your eyebrow. "What?" "It's Dr. Robby. At least for people who tell me their embarrassing stories within ten minutes of meeting me." You smiled at him and tasted the name on your lips. "Dr. Robby it is." You could swear you saw his ears go slightly red.

Robby tried to focus on something that wasn't your face because he could feel his ears turning red. Unfortunately for him, that was the moment the remains of your jacket slid of your shoulder, and he was staring at your collarbones beneath the spaghetti straps of you tanktop. Great, now his whole face would be turning red. You shivered and tried to grab your jacket from the floor, pulling a face as you twisted your shoulder. Robby reached forward on instinct and gently guided you upright again. He zipped his hoodie down and draped it over your shoulders. "Here, take mine. Yours isn't worth much and I've got an extra in my locker." The smell of laundry, cologne and something manly hit you. You liked it. "Thanks, I'll give it back before I leave." You said, smiling up at him once more.

Dana caught Javadi rushing back from the supply closet. She startled again and looked towards the charge nurse expectantly. "You just stay here for a minute longer, darling." Collins stopped next to Dana, both looking towards your bed, where Dr. Robby had rolled his chair slightly more towards you. "Do my eyes deceive me..." Collins started. "Or is Cap flirting with that poor girl?" Dana finished. "I think you're right. He's actually smiling at her. Oh look, she's flirting back, putting her hand on his arm. Poor sad boy, he's turning bright red. And my god, is that his hoodie that she's wearing?"

Javadi came back and set your shoulder expertly, earning her a nod from Dr. Robby and many thanks from you. You were sorry when they were called into an incoming trauma, leaving a nurse with you to discharge you. You tried to hang around for a while, but soon came to the realisation that they needed the bed. You hung near the desk for another ten minutes, hoping that Dr. Robby would emerge from the trauma room soon.

"You waiting for Robby?" A blond woman stood next to you, sipping a cup of coffee. "Yeah, just wanted to give him my thanks." The woman pulled up an eyebrow. "I thought Javadi treated you?" You sighed. "You caught me. Just wanted to ask Dr. Robby some questions." "Questions about what? Anything to do with that hoodie you're wearing?" Dana took a sip and stared at you. "Well, I guess straight forward is your way, ma'am. I appreciate that, 'cause it's my way as well. I have two questions mainly. If he's single, and if yes, if he's free for a date somewhere this week. I have a nice bottle of wine that needs opening but I can't really make it work with this arm." You pointed at your sling. The nurse smiled back at you. "I think a bottle of wine is just what that man needs. Can't help you with his schedule, I'm no personal assistant, but I can give you his cell number if that's of any help?" She winked at you. "Just tell him Dana gave the number, cause he's too much of a chicken to have done it himself. And tell him I like you and your straightforward ways." You flashed a bright smile at her. "Will do Dana, thank you. I'll tell him you're the best wingwoman I've ever met."

You were still wearing Dr. Robby's hoodie when left the Pitt, clutching a post-it with his phone number in your good hand.

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: in which he realizes you were the one for him

warnings: none i think !

wc: 1100

Hoshina wasn't a player. He wasn't one to say yes to everyone who came his way nor was he one to lightly pursue just about anyone who slightly interested him— not to mention he didn’t fall easily to begin with. He was a busy man in a dangerous line of work so having a relationship simply didn’t make sense most of the time.

However, this is not to say he hasn’t had a few relationships here and there. He loved those he dated, he really did. He did not believe in dating for the fun of it nor did he believe in starting a relationship he knew would end at some point, but subconsciously he tried not to get attached. He kept his distance and locked away his heart to keep from getting hurt. Was it unfair? Well yes, but he was scared. Everyone has something that terrifies them greatly, this just so happened to be Hoshina’s.

Yet, recently he could tell that something was different with you. It had only been a few months since you started dating, but he feared the shift in his feelings. He knew what it was— he knew very well, but as soon as he admitted it, it would be over. There’d be no going back for him. He knew he was being rather irrational, he knew that if he sat down and confronted these emotions he’d realize they weren’t that big of a deal, but he couldn’t. He’s never been able to.

However, while fighting this kaiju, it became plain obvious that he was simply in denial. 

It upset him how important you were to him, but more than that it upset him that he knew he was important to you. You had made it so painfully clear that he meant the absolute world to you and that broke him to pieces every single time.

To him it was easy being alone— he just had to make sure his job was complete before he died. If he could ensure everyone’s safety or at least help Mina out, there was nothing more he wished for. Yet while fighting Kaiju no. 10 today, when he saw his life flash before his eyes, his immediate thought was of you. If he died you’d cry. And that alone was going to get him home alive.

He’d rather die than make you cry. Especially not alone.

As he stood up again, he could see his blood dripping from his wounds and immediately it made him chuckle. You’d cry anyways when you see the state he’s in. 

I’ll have to be around to wipe your tears at least, he said to you in his head.

He was incredibly lucky that you didn’t work on the battlefield, his heart simply would not be able to take it. But he did, and for you he’d have to get home safe. Even if no one else cared that much, not even himself, he knew you would.

All of a sudden, it was easy to admit. He was hopelessly in love with you, in a way he didn't know he was capable of. He wished that he would spend the rest of his life with you and he hoped you would spend the rest of yours with him. Perhaps he was just afraid and a little flustered to admit that he was important to someone, especially someone special to him too. He had seen how painful it was for those left behind, a little too often. 

But there was an easy solution to that, he’d just get back to you safe every time. He just won’t make you worry and he’ll be there for you. This was supposed to be a dilemma, something he thought he'd stress over, but in the moment he felt eerily relaxed, definitely not like he was fighting an identified grade kaiju. The rest of the fight was a blur, he couldn't remember much. His head was clear but the fatigue had taken over at that point, but before he knew it, the kaiju laid in front of him still.

He was faintly conscious as they rushed him into an ambulance and patched him up. Once he was properly treated and awake, they had warned him to stay put and take it easy, but all he wanted to do was see you.

As soon as he left his assigned room, he immediately bumped into you. You had been waiting to be let in to see him. You took one look at the way he was patched up and tears welled into your eyes. He could tell you didn't mean to, you didn't want to worry him.

“Please don't cry,” he said softly, wiping your tears away. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of you. “I'm perfectly fine.”

“I'm not crying,” you said with a scowl on your face, but the way your voice cracked was not very convincing. “I'm so glad you're back.”

“Can't live without me?” he teased. He knew you couldn't live without him, but he couldn't either. Yet, now he even hated the thought of you living without him, let alone with someone else, so here he was. And here he always will be.

“Shut up,” you said. “You know I can't.”

He knew, but hearing you say that still made his heart flutter. He reached out with his right hand to grab your left and held it carefully. He leaned in to kiss you, but it was so much sloppier than the careful ones he usually gave you. Forgive him, he was terribly exhausted.

“I can't either,” he said, snuggling his face into your shoulder.

“You can't?” you asked, a little surprised. It broke his heart that he had possibly made you feel such way.

“Not for a second,” he said, still avoiding eye contact. “I'd rather die than wake up without you next to me, actually.”

You wouldn’t reply, so he brought his head back up to look at you.

“Oh, don't cry,” he said and chuckled a little, wiping your tears away as he kissed you again. “I didn't mean to make you cry.”

He hadn't let go of your hand and although he was gentle, he held it firmly. He didn't say anything, but he vowed to himself that he'd put a ring on it someday. He wasn't letting go of you ever.

You were the one for him.

[illubean]

Could I get headcanons for Feitan, Illumi, Leorio, and Chrollo falling for gn!reader who by all means seems like a strong, nuturing, emotionally stable individual but every once in awhile casually says or does smthin that makes people go "Oh you're a little fuckin nuts, actually"

(e.x.: Most of their D.I.Y. furniture is made of different kinds of bone, morbidly interested in the more gorey parts of their jobs, probably works in a field that allows them to be around the dead often like a taxidermist or a mortitian, highkey just unabashashedly a morbid little freak™️ whenever it comes up naturally in conversation but otherwise comes across as just an attentive lil guy you could bring home the average parents would love.)

HXH Men with a Morbid!S/o

Characters: Leorio Paladaknight, Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader

this is so me

Warnings: dead things and body parts and stuff

Leorio Paladaknight

being an aspiring doctor, Leorio thought that your knowledge on both human and animal anatomy was pretty useful

at first he didn't think much about your job and just assumed you were some type of doctor or biologist or something

he often asks you questions as he studies and you're a pretty good tutor

the first time Leorio realized you were kinda weird is when one day you were walking down the street and saw some roadkill

and you were like "aww too bad, the skin and bones are too damaged to harvest"

and you kept walking like it was normal while he was like ?!!??!?

or you guys were having a normal conversation and you say something like

"if you died i'd taxidermy you and re-articulate your skeleton so you'd be with me forever <3"

1 taxidermizing humans is illegal and 2 WHAT

he is cold sweating wtf did he get himself into

when he comes to your house for the first time and sees a bunch of bones, animal skins and wet specimens he damn near passes the fuck out

how do you just casually have dead things and remains around your house!?

AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU MADE YOUR COFFEE TABLE OUT OF CAMEL BONES?

he is freaking the fuck out and you're just like "dw everything is ethically sourced :D"

yeah he thinks you're a freak and he is too fearful to break up with you ever (not like he was planning to anyways)

Illumi Zoldyck

whatever drew Illumi to you had to have been some type of power

aside from that power, to Illumi you were relatively normal and had a good grip on your emotions which made you a perfect candidate

that being said he could care less what your job was, you'd just end up working for or with him eventually

when he started bringing you around the estate, you often sought out their guard dog Mike and Illumi couldn't think of why

that is until you came back one day with a human femur and bright smile on your face

"... where did you even get that?" "From one of Mike's victims. If I collect enough I could make a whole set of bar stools!"

he blinked at you and chose to ignore your statement

i mean, to each their own am i right?

so you have ah hobby, big deal

Illumi just thinks you're pretty normal personality wise until you randomly but casually drop information about what you do in your free time or have in your home

so now whenever he has a job Illumi calls you in for cleanup

you get to do.... whatever it is you do and there's no evidence of a dead body left behind, it's a win win

Chrollo Lucilfer

he couldn't care less what your job is because it's probably not worse than his 😭

he didn't really notice anything "morbid" about you until he asked about your jewlery

you wore things like resin caster bug pendants or bird skull earrings and stuff

he just assumed they were fake and you bought them because they looked badass

but then you told him you make it all YOURSELF

he is intrigued

he doesn't really question you past that because you were probably buying the bones and stuff somewhere (spoiler alert you're not)

what really caused him to think was when you casually just picked up a dead rat off the floor in some abandoned building you were exploring and suck it in your pocket

bro was so confused

"What do you need that for?" "To make a new necklace :3"

yeah now he knows that your odd taste in jewelry goes deeper than just that

he won't judge you though, if anything you're a better person than he is considering you don't kill things yourself

he is literally a murderer and a thief and has committed like 3467633788 crimes so he couldn't judge even if he wanted to

so now when he sees dead animals and what not he bags them up and brings them to you

he likes to sit in on your cleaning and making process

you seem like a perfectly normal and sweet person to everyone else but Chrollo knows about your freaky little hobby and it just makes him like you even more

Feitan Portor

I feel like for you and Feitan to even be acquainted you have to be part of the troupe

whatever you do outside of it is your business

buttttttt since you are his s/o and Feitan is probably homeless he crashes wherever you are

thus him finding out about your hobby and other job

out of everyone on this list he is the most interested

he too is a morbid little freak

he goes with you to find things and will help you with the cleaning/taxidermy or whatever process if you let him

what he doesn't understand though is why you don't just kill the things you want instead of hunting for already dead things

sometimes he will go catch like a squirrel or something and bring it back to you like a cat and tell you he found it like that

Fei baby. No the fuck you didn't

after doing what you're doing for so long you can tell what caused an animal to die but you wouldn't tell him that

he's just so cute and wants to be supportive of your hobby <3

[softspiderling]

take on me | r.c

──𖤐 summary:

“It’s good you’re here to take care of her, I was a bit worried when she said she would get a cab home.”

“I was trying to let her be independent.”

“I am independent,” you argued with a frown and Rafe snickered, standing up.

“Yes, you are.”

OR; you have to get your wisdom teeth removed and are adamant about recovering by yourself. Your best friends have other plans, though.

──𖤐 pairing: rafe cameron x reader

──𖤐 warnings: takes place pre-illicit affairs, very inaccurate description of getting your wisdom teeth removed, boys being boys

──𖤐 word count: 2.1k

──𖤐 author's note: this was not planned, like at all. i did a speed run of this at work when @carrerascameron talked about her getting her wisdom tooth removed and imagined Precious in the scenario, so this is dedicated to you! thanks for the inspo and hope you feel better soon🫶🏼 also why is this me somehow stretching the series, bc i already miss writing for them😭 let’s not think about tho hope you enjoy, happy reading🩷

PS: this is within the illicit affairs universe, but is not part of the series. this can be read as a standalone fic!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“You can do this,” you muttered to yourself, as you were sitting in the waiting room of the doctor’s office.

This being getting your wisdom teeth removed.

By yourself.

And then going home.

Where you were also going to be by yourself.

Your parents had gone to Orange County to visit your grandparents and you had set the appointment, forgetting they had plans. But that wouldn’t be a problem, right? You were a big girl. It was just a simple procedure, not a big deal. Even if Rafe had tried to scare you.

“Precious, getting your wisdom teeth is no joke, Sarah was delirious for a whole week,” he had said, but you only waved him off, because what did he know?

Well, it turned out, he knew exactly what he was talking about.

It was during the last half hour before the procedure, as the doctor explained the procedure to you one last time, when you slowly realized, to your horror, that you absolutely could not do this. But you tried not to let it show, because how embarassing would that be?You only smiled at the doctor, nodding to show you understand, while you were freaking out on the inside.

“Alright, you can follow me, I’m gonna take you to the procedure room,” the nurse said, after the doctor had left the room, and then, you started panicking for real.

“Wait, can I just quickly do something on my phone?” you asked her and the nurse nodded, understanding.

Quickly, you grabbed your phone to text Rafe.

rafe [19/04/23: 8:26 am]: let me know how the procedure goes

Precious [19/04/23: 8:30 am]: omg stop babying me

Precious [19/04/23: 8:30 am]: i’m a grown and independent woman, i can handle this.

────── NEW MESSAGE ──────

Precious [19/04/23: 9:45 pm]: i was wrong, i’m totally not a grown and independent woman

You weren’t sure why, but you just had to voice out your fears, and then you’d fell better, less scared.

At least that was what you told yourself. Sticking your phone back into your purse, you inhaled deeply, but quietly, before facing the nurse again, braving a smile.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

An hour later, you were back in the patient room, laid in the bed, a cooling pad pressed against your cheek. You were still drowsy from the anesthesia, and the doctor had told you to wait at least half an hour before calling your cab. You thought about waiting much longer, considering the state you were in.

A gentle knock on your door made you look up, and it was the nurse sticking her head inside the room, smiling at you.

“Someone’s here to see you,” the nurse said gently, before coming inside, and no one other than Rafe was right behind her, his forehead creased with worry.

“Rafe?” you asked, confused, though it sounded more like Wafe? with the swelling in your mouth.

“Precious,” Rafe sighed, sitting down at the end of your bed. “Didn’t I tell you that you’d be freaked out?”

He squeezed your ankle affectionately, before turning towards the nurse.

“Is it okay if I take her home?” he asked her and she nodded, handing him your papers and a bag with what you assumed was medication.

“Yes, that’s fine. Make sure she drinks lots of water. The anesthesia will wear off soon, and she’ll start to feel the pain. We’ve prescribed her some painkillers, and it’s okay if she takes ibuprofen, too,” the nurse told him and Rafe hummed dutifully.

You were still confused.

“I assume we’ll just call the front desk if we have any questions?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“What?” you blurted out and Rafe turned to you with an exasperated smile, while the nurse laughed.

“She’s still loopy from the anesthesia, that’s completely normal,” she explained and Rafe sighed, chuckling. “It’s good you’re here to take care of her, I was a bit worried when she said she would get a cab home.”

“I was trying to let her be independent.”

“I am independent,” you argued, with a frown and Rafe snickered, standing up.

“Yes, you are. Come on, let’s get you home.”

Packing up your stuff, Rafe let you lean on him as the nurse walked you out, waving from the door as Rafe helped you in the car. The way home passed by in a blur and before you knew it, you were already walking through the front door, Rafe’s arm around your waist.

“Bed or couch?”

“Couch,” you replied, and Rafe took you to the living room, where you quickly curled up on the couch. You sighed softly, already feeling so much better in the safety of your own home.

Rafe left you to your own devices, disappearing somewhere in the back of the house, but it wasn’t long beforr he returned with a fresh ice pack, exchanging it with the one that was basically water at this point.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, wincing when you held the fresh ice pack against your cheek. Even though Rafe had wrapped it in a towel, it was still bitingly cold.

“‘course.”

Rafe sat down on the arm rest of the couch, careful not to tug in your hair, reaching out to brush a few stray strands of hair off your forehead. It was nice like this, and you almost dozed off, still loopy from the anesthesia. The sound of the front door opening, however, piqued your interest and you frowned at Rafe.

“Who’s that?”

“Must be the boys,” Rafe told you and you let out a small huff, getting up.

“Precious, what are you doing?” Rafe asked, exasperated, but you had already followed the sound of the boys, who had apparently brought Whole Foods’ entire stock with them, making camp in your kitchen.

“Hey Precious, how are you doing?” Kelce asked, dumping the grocery bags on the counter. Topper lifted his head to look at you, narrowing his eyes.

“Your cheeks don’t look half as swollen as Rafe had said.”

“Thanks for that,” Rafe said dryly, coming into the kitchen behind you. You only glowered at him, before setting your sights back on Topper and Kelce.

“What are you doing here?”

“We brought groceries, obviously.”

You jutted your lower lip out when Topper pulled out two sixers of beer and a bag full of steaks.

“I can’t have any of that,” you complained and Topper sighed.

“It’s obviously not for you.”

“These are for you,” Kelce said, sliding a pack of your favorite popsicles on the counter. You only frowned.

“Who even invited you here to grill steaks and drink beer,” you grumbled, already ripping open the container, taking a popsicle out, watching as Rafe joined them, unpacking the groceries in your kitchen, apparently.

You had made it your mission to observe, and occasionally comment, while you ate your popsicle.

Your victim?

Topper.

“What’s that,” you asked, when Topper pulled out a takeaway container from a brown paper bag.

“Mash,” he replied, distracted, already pulling out different container from yet another paper bag. Seriously, did they just hit up ever single shop on the island?

“What’s that.”

“Tomato soup.”

Topper set a six pack of gatorade on the counter, glancing at you, like he knew what was coming and you only grinned. Well, as much as you could, anyway.

“… What’s that.”

“Jesus, Precious, aren’t you supposed to rest your mouth to heal?” he bitched at you and you snickered. “Just shut up and eat your damn popsicle.”

You heaved yourself on the kitchen island to watch the guys putter around the kitchen, still unsure why they were here.

“Do you want mash or soup?” Rafe asked you, gently pushing your legs to the side, to open the drawer where you kept the bowls.

You didn’t have enough mental capacity to make a decision. So you didn’t.

“Both.”

Rafe made you two small bowls, one with soup and one with mash respectively, adding a bottle of gatorade to the counter.

“Eat this and finish that gatorade, alright? You’re gonna be in pain when that anesthesia wears off and I just know you’re gonna pump yourself full of painkillers, so get some food into you,” he told you and you were barely able to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“I’ll go heat up the grill,” Kelce then announced, heading outside and you followed him with your eyes, your annoyance focusing on him as you tosed the popsicle stick in the trash.

“Why are you pouting?” Rafe sighed and you gave him a look.

“Why are you here.”

“To use your pool, obviously,” Topper replied in passing, carrying your cooler outside. You threw a death glare at his retreating form, and Rafe only laughed quietly, shaking his head. He leaned on the counter, his hands on either side of your legs.

“Do you want to eat inside or come out to the backyard with us?”

You frowned. Mostly because you were annoyed that he was treating you like a baby, but also because you liked how he was taking care of you.

But you weren’t gonna tell him that.

“Inside,” you replied, grouchy. “Too hot outside.”

With that, you jumped off the counter, with Rafe making space for you, though you couldn’t help but notice the way his hands were hovering by your waist. Grabbing your two bowls and the gatorade under your arm, you marched yourself back to the couch. You were an independent woman, after all.

Safely arriving in the living room; you put the food on the table, first taking a big sip of your gatorade, before you started eating.

Even though you weren’t hungry, you felt so much better afterwards, if a bit drowsy. No one would blame you if you took a nap, you did undergo a surgery just that morning, and before you knew it, you were passed out on the couch.

You weren’t sure for how long you had napped, but the remaining anesthesia must have left your systems, a dull ache in your jaw waking you from your slumber.

“Ow,” you mumbled drowsily, gently prodding against your cheek with your finger.

Frowning, you looked around the living room. puzzled to see a light blanket draped over your body. When did you get a blanket?

Then, you noticed faint music coming from the backyard and that was when you remembered that you weren’t home alone. Pushing the blanket back, you headed to the backyard, slowly pushing the door open.

The boys were sitting by the table in the shades, a couple of grilled steaks left on a plate, a few open beer bottles strewn on the table, while they played cards. Rafe lifted his head when he heard your foot steps, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a grin.

“Look who’s up,” he grinned and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Don’t test me.”

“Here,” Rafe said, pulling out a pack of ibuprofen out of his pocket. “The anesthesia has worn off, huh?”

“Uh huh.”

Without you saying anything, Kelce pulled a gatorade out of the cooler, placing it in front of you on the table.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, popping an ibuprofen in your mouth, before washing it down with the gatorade, looking around the backyard. You must have slept longer than you thought, the sun just starting to set, painting your backyard in a golden hue. The boys really spent their entire day here while you were sleeping. As you looked at the pool, you furrowed your brows, suddenly remembering Topper’s earlier words.

“Hey, you guys have your own pools!”

“Man, nothing gets past you, huh Precious?” Topper sighed, tossing his cards down to lean back in his chair, looking at you.

So they came to take care of you.

“I’m a big girl,” you argued. “You didn’t have to come here to look after me.”

“Of course we didn’t, you fucking clown,” Kelce sniffed, giving you a dirty look. You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, taking a beat to stand your ground, before you sat down next to Kelce.

“Thanks,” you grumbled, trying not to show how grateful you were for them, kicking Rafe’s leg affectionately. They had all turned up, but you knew that Rafe spearheaded this. He raised an eyebrow at you, winking secretly and you tried to ignore your cheeks heating up. You must still be loopy from the anesthesia.

“Women are so easy to please.”

“Shut up, Top.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: well.... this was unexpected, I know! but what do you guys think? 👀

[blackenedsnow]

Hey there! I love your writing. I was wondering if you could write something where Michael Myers is super possessive and protective of the reader. The reader is normally really independent and tough, but they get into a situation where they actually need help—maybe they’re being stalked or harassed by someone, and Michael steps in?

silent guardian

WARNING: Possessiveness, stalking/harassment, violence, gore, toxic protectiveness, mention of murder.

PAIRING: Michael Myers x Reader

NOTE: Take you for your request! Enjoy!

SUMMARY: You're used to handling things on your own. You've always been independent and strong, never needing anyone’s help—until someone starts stalking you. At first, you think you can deal with it, but the situation escalates beyond your control. Michael Myers, lurking in the shadows, has always kept a watchful eye on you, and now, when you truly need help, he's more than ready to step in.

You had always prided yourself on your independence, on being the kind of person who could handle whatever came their way. You never needed anyone to protect you, and you certainly didn’t need anyone watching over you like some fragile thing. Life had thrown its fair share of challenges your way, but you'd learned to fight through them on your own terms.

That was before the stalking started.

At first, it was just unnerving—someone watching you too closely, lingering in places you couldn’t see, leaving a trail of anxiety wherever you went. But lately, things had escalated. You’d started noticing small signs, messages left behind, your name scrawled on your car window in the condensation, items in your home moved just slightly out of place.

You tried to brush it off, convincing yourself you could handle it. After all, you weren’t one to be scared so easily. But the weight of someone constantly lurking in the background was starting to wear on you, making you jump at shadows and lock every door twice.

It was only when the situation came to a head that you realized just how far out of control things had gotten.

You were on your way home late one night, cutting through a dark alley you had taken a hundred times before, when you heard the footsteps behind you. They weren’t subtle. Whoever was following you wanted you to know they were there.

Your heart raced, your breath catching in your throat as you quickened your pace, trying to lose whoever it was. But no matter how fast you walked, the footsteps stayed right behind you, the presence growing closer with each second.

Fear gnawed at you, a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time. You turned a corner, hoping to lose them in the winding streets, but they were relentless. Panic set in as you reached a dead-end, and for the first time in a long while, you felt trapped.

Before you could react, the figure appeared at the mouth of the alley, stepping out of the darkness.

Your instincts screamed at you to run, but there was nowhere to go. Just as the shadow moved toward you, something else stirred in the darkness—something much larger, much more dangerous.

Michael. Though, you didn't know it yet.

He stepped out from the shadows like a force of nature, his massive form blocking the alleyway. The stalking figure stopped dead in their tracks, fear flickering in their eyes as they realized who and what they were up against.

Michael didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The air around him was thick with menace, his silent fury directed entirely at the person who had dared to follow you.

Without warning, Michael lunged, grabbing the stalker by the throat with one hand and slamming them against the wall. The sound of the impact echoed through the narrow alley, but Michael didn’t stop there. His grip tightened, cutting off any chance of escape for the unfortunate soul who had crossed his path.

You watched, frozen in place, your heart pounding in your chest. Michael’s eyes, under the mask, cold and empty, locked onto the stalker with a single-minded intensity, as if this person’s fate had already been decided.

In a matter of seconds, the threat was neutralized, the stalker left gasping for air on the ground, barely conscious. Michael didn’t spare them a second glance.

He turned to you then. The intensity was still there, but now it was different—possessive, protective. He stepped closer, and despite everything, despite knowing the monster he was, you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

You weren’t alone.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there in the darkness, the weight of the situation settling in. You had always been the strong one, the independent one, but here, in the shadow of someone who lived for violence, you realized that even you needed help sometimes. And Michael—whether out of obsession, possessiveness, or something darker—had always been watching, always ready to step in when you needed him most.

He didn’t speak, didn’t ask if you were okay. That wasn’t his way. Instead, he reached out, his hand roughly grabbing your arm.

A strange comfort settled over you. In his twisted way, Michael had become your protector.

And in that moment, you didn’t mind being his.

[kkayyerr]

Problem.

Summary: Pogues abandoning little!reader after she did an awful mistake. Rafe is here to show her that she’s not alone.

Warnings: Age regression, angst, slight fluff in the end.

Words counter: 1,3 k

Author’s note: I used scene from the „Arcane” as the reference for this fic!!🫶🏻

Pogues had never shown their disappointment in you or even told you that they weren’t pleased with your actions. They never showed you any signs of anger, especially not when you were in the little space. No matter how bad your mistakes were, they would just try to ensure you that everything is alright. They didn’t want you to know how hard it is to clean up your mess. And you couldn’t even think of anything about them being tired of you. 

After all, every mistake can be fixed, right? 

Tonight you found out that you were actually wrong, and there are some mistakes that unfortunately can’t be fixed, not at all. 

 

„Stay here, kid.”

 

JJ said to you an hour ago, as they were getting ready to go on another fight with some people that they had introduced to you as the „bad guys." You wanted to help them, but since you were regressed, they came up with the decision that it would be better for you to just stay inside the truck while they would be dealing with all of that. You agreed, just so they wouldn’t have to worry about you while fighting, and then you watched them leave. 

 

„Good wuck…”

 

You whispered, but it seemed like nobody had heard you since they haven’t replayed, just closing the truck’s doors. Since they left, you became so much more anxious. 

What if they would get hurt? 

What if they would get killed?

What if, what if, what if...

You just couldn’t help yourself, but finding that small gun that was laying on the driver’s seat was very interesting. What if that small thing would help you get your friends out of trouble? You knew that you shouldn’t have touched the weapons, but you also knew that you wouldn’t let your friends get themselves in trouble. 

Slowly you got off the truck and immediately saw them, staying there, just a few miles away from you. And there were also those bad guys, threatening your friends. Your heart ached seeing them in fear, so you approached them and shot.

A couple of times. 

You obviously didn’t see how one of the bullets came through the JJ’s shoulder, and you also didn’t see that you almost shot Kiara right in the head. When the gun's magazine finally got empty, you opened your eyes, letting a weapon fall from your hands to the ground. Pogues were looking at you, and there was something on their faces that you had never seen before. It took a moment for you to understand that they were disappointed in you and also scared of what you just did. Everyone heads to the truck, letting JJ deal with you. They just didn’t know what to say, and they were obviously afraid of your reaction to their harsh words. 

JJ wasn’t even looking at you; he was looking through you, as if you were something that he was finally ready to leave behind. You felt how your eyes felt with tears just from the amount of guilt that you were feeling right now. You opened your mouth, but before you could start to speak, JJ just shook his head. 

 

„No. We’re done.”

 

He said, and his words made your knees weaker. He had never talked to you in such a cold manner, especially not when you were regressed. It seemed like you actually crossed the line trying to help them.

 

„They were right, you are a problem, and I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to deal with you anymore.”

 

His words were painful, but the sudden feeling of your knees hitting the hard ground brought even more pain, finally making you cry. Your cries were silent at first, but as soon as JJ had left your sight, silent sniffles turned into loud sobbing. 

 

„Pwease, don’t go.”

 

You hugged your bloody knees, whispering some sort of pleading out loud, even though you knew that nobody would hear you. Or at least you thought so. 

Rafe Cameron saw your small trembling figure, and he was intrigued. Something about that scene reminds him of himself when he was a child, left alone and crying for nobody to hear him. Rafe shook his head to get rid of that image. 

Why would Pogues leave someone behind? 

He almost felt bad, hearing your sobbing as he approached you. Your hair wet from the rain and your face puffy from all the tears. You probably needed someone to console you, or at least someone who would be there for you, right? And you would most probably do whatever it takes to not be abandoned again. 

 

„Why are you here alone, little one?”

 

He asked, crouching down in front of you, waiting for you to answer his question. You rubbed your eyes in a childish manner, trying to focus your gaze on the man. He wasn’t looking like he was planning to hurt you, and even if he would, it wouldn’t hurt as much as getting abandoned by a Pogues did. 

You looked at him for another second, and then you jumped on him, hugging him tightly with your little arms. Both of you were lying on the ground now, but he didn’t seem to protest. He didn’t hug you back, though, not yet. 

 

„They left me, Pogues left me.”

 

You whispered, trying not to start sobbing again. His eyes widened, as he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. How could they call themselves a family when they’re leaving their people behind? The thoughts of getting left were hurting your little heart so bad that you almost screamed but felt two strong arms picking you up from the ground just in time. You didn’t know who that man was, but the need in someone’s care right now made you desperate enough to accept his attention. You hugged his neck with your hands, hiding your face there as he was trying to calm you down. 

 

„I’m lonely”

 

Rafe chuckled at your pitiful voice, hugging you tighter. He wasn’t the big fan of hugs, but he knew that you needed that right now. He also knew that you were way too tired now to give him any information about yourself or at least explain what happened previously, but he also knew that you wouldn’t say „no” if he would offer you to go with him. 

 

„You won’t be lonely for too long, little one.”

 

His words were gentle; he didn’t want you to get scared or overwhelmed. He could tell that you were close enough to yet another tantrum just because of the stress that you had experienced from getting left alone. 

 

„I’m Rafe Cameron, can we be friends?”

 

You nodded, wanting at least someone to be around. You couldn’t stay alone, especially when you were regressed. He smirked at your response, knowing that he doesn’t want to be your friend. He wants to be your everything, and somehow you didn’t seem very against it.

 

„From that moment you will never be left alone again, baby.”

 

You looked at him with a small suspicion. It was hard for you to believe that someone might actually want to deal with you, and not leaving you behind when you would became too much. Rafe extended his pinky, his big hand approaching yours.

 

„Pinky pwomise?”

 

Your eyes widened, and your face turned more bright. For you, a pinky promise was something more meaningful than a signed contract or a proposal ring. You slowly connected your pinky with his, smiling happily. 

 

„Pinky promise.”

 

He reassured you, giving you a gentle kiss on the nose, making you smile once again. After he saw that smile, he knew he wouldn’t ever let anyone make you cry. 

Taglist: @marvelfanfics1 @aew-regression-cove @rafecameronsloverrrrr

[qlossytbh]

𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 after a long day working on a specific murder case, all you want is to do was fall asleep, next to your boyfriend.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 fluff fluff and more fluff, established relationship, fem reader, brief mention of insecurity (spencer’s side), general cm content

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.4k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 started criminals minds and i fear this man is gonna push me down a rabbit hole. inspired on season 4 spence

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Longs days at work were usually your favorite— unless they induced an unhealthy amount of stress on you.

Unfortunately, today had been one of those days. To start off, Hotch called you in earlier, around six in the morning, due to an emergency statement issue he needed you to put together regarding your recent Unsub. You spent all day talking to witnesses, finally being able to establish a profile for the specific serial killer the BAU was hunting down.

You were utterly exhausted. You hadn't been sleeping entirely well, being kept up by nightmares regarding the current case and since it had been an eventful day, not only were you physically tired but mentally as well. Talking about woman getting raped and murdered and left in the middle of the streets wasn’t the most soul-fueling aspect of your job.

Your body begged for a nap— So did your brain.

The Unsub was attacking woman throughout the city of New York, so the BAU team opted on staying situated at some random hotel for the remaining of the week in order to get advances on the case. The end of your shift was intended to be around seven thirty, but Hotch once again asked you to stay behind and help Prentiss and Morgan with a few files. Being the person and colleague you were, you agreed without protest.

As another crack in your neck echoed throughout your head, you began questioning if your job was actually paying you enough.

Those extra two hours felt even longer with the never ending teasing of Morgan, whom to you resembled very close the figure of a brother. Irrevocably, excruciatingly annoying, but someone you cared for deeply.

Except for right now.

It was now ten. It was dark outside as you practically dragged yourself into the hotel lobby with Morgan and Prentiss tagging along much more actively, chatting endlessly about some irrelevant topic your head couldnt entirely latch onto. The heels of your feet were pulsating and you desperately needed to close your eyes. Your back felt terribly cramped due to being hunched over for so long at your desk so it came to no one’s surprise when you grimaced as you put a hand on your lower-back.

"Back problems?” Morgan dared, voice coming dangerously close to a tease. “At your age?"

You glared back at him, sending warning signs through your piercing gaze that he should be very careful with where he stepped.

"No,” Your voice was clenched. “These stupid hotel mattresses are utter crap and I was in some weird position last night."

“What kind of positions?” Emily eyed you from the side. You looked over at her, thinking you may of heard some suggestiveness laced in her tone. You caught a familiar evil glint in her eyes and realization dawned upon you, realizing what she had meant.

Your cheeks buzzed with heat as you jumped to your own defense. “Sleeping positions!”

You cringed internally, feeling mortified and annoyed and— tired. The two of them clearly had enough hours of sleep the night before to be in a cheery enough mood to tease you.

“I’m too tired to deal with the two of you,”

"Looks like someone's past their bedtime" Derek remarked while patting your head. You scowled, swatted his hand away urgently.

"I'm not gonna even fight you on that since all I want to do right now is sleep and not hear you guys make fun of me,” Emily checked her watch and elbowed Derek’s side.

"We should probably go get some rest too," She stated, finally putting you out of your misery. She jerked her chin in the opposite direction of the lobby, which was where her and Morgan’s rooms were.

There had been some sort of room distribution problem upon arrival, leaving half of the team on the left side of the building and the others on the right.

"You need me to walk you to your room?" Morgan asked without any teasing in sight, like he was genuinely concerned.

"I think I can make it to the second floor," You shrugged. "But thanks tough guy. Reid’s probably still up waiting for me."

Emily made a face before they nodded to themselves and with one final goodbye, headed off to their respective rooms in the other direction. You turned and made your way to the elevator, body heavy with sleep. Once inside, you closed your eyes and sighed heavily, leaning against the wall behind you with a thud. Your head was pounding and your legs desperately begged you to stop moving them.

The elevator came to a stop and you pushed yourself off the wall, waiting for it to open. Once it did, the eerie setting of the empty hallways settled in. You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling fear trickling throughout your spine. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling. Your job was bound to leave you with an unsettling feeling of being alone, but you weren't going to ever live down letting Morgan walk you to your room.

You hastily made your way to the door of the hotel room you shared with Spencer, slipping the keycard out your back pocket and opening the door.

Once inside, you slid off the heavy coat that hung on your shoulders and slipped it on the rack near the door. You heard the sheets shuffling in the room with a bit of urgency.

"It’s me Spence," You reassured, walking into the hallway and leaning against the wall that led towards the room.

You took in the sight in front of you and smiled happily. Satisfaction tan deep within you, knowing only you had the pleasure of seeing Spencer like this. So casually relaxed

His back was propped up against the headboard, hairs flying across his forehead showing the contrast between his usual somewhat tamed hair. He had his glasses perched upon the bridge of his nose and a book he had decided to read in his hand. Your smile was tired when he looked over at you, setting his book down.

"Hey," He started, smiling amiably. There was a familiar glow in his gaze that usually lit up when he looked at you. You sucked in a breath through your nose.

“Hi,”

“It’s late,” He said, almost as if coming to the realization of how late you had actually come back.

"Me, Prentiss and Morgan were at those files longer than expected— I'm exhausted." He patted the spot next to him.

"Then come sleep," You pushed yourself off the wall.

"I will, let me change and I'll be right with you,"

You turned grabbing your shorts and long sleeved shirt you usually slept in on the way to the bathroom. Some would debate the actual benefits of sleeping in shorts in New York winter were zero to none. Spencer had done so the first night you arrived, giving you all the reasons it wasn't beneficial and how likely you were to catch a cold. But long pants made you fidgety and caged. You hated how it felt to turn around in bed a few times and already feel the fabric getting twisted and stuck around your legs.

Besides, Spencers body temperature radiated enough heat to keep you warm, which was another beneficial reason of wearing shorts to sleep. Why avoid the cold when you had your very own personal human heater?

You looked at yourself in the mirror, failing to avoid the bags that were beginning to appear beneath your eyes. You promptly slipped off your turtleneck, sweater and jeans and put on your sleeping clothes. Once done, you left the bathroom, turning off the lights and closing the door behind you.

You reached up, pulling at the hair tie and freeing your hair from its low bun. Wordlessly, you made it to Spencers side of the bed and he innately threw the duvet cover backwards, allowing you enough space to climb in and rest yourself soundly between his legs, resting your head against his chest.

The silence that surrounded the two of you was enough to put you to sleep in that very moment. The comfortable surface of his solid chest was cozier than any mattress— even though you always unconsciously hoped you weren’t squishing him.

Spencer tossed his book onto the nightstand, slipping his glasses off his face as he quickly turned his attention to you. You placed your palms flat against his chest and rested your chin above them, allowing yourself to look up at him with a tired smile.

"Hi." You said. He reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and smiling down at you with his familiar infamous dopey smile.

"Hi," He answered back, smile growing wider. "You look pretty,"

"Don't even," You groaned, not believing a single word that came from him. "You were so lucky Hotch didn't call you in after hours— or before.”

“I’m getting the sense that you’re angry with me,” There wasn’t an ounce of malice in his voice, facetiously regarding your angry look.

“I’m not angry, i’m jealous.” You explain, pouting your lips at him. “You have no idea how jealous I am of the fact that you've been lying in bed since eight,"

Although joking around, you didn’t fail to notice the traces of empathy lingering beneath his gaze. There wasn’t anything Spencer hated more than knowing you were exhausted. He let his hand linger around your face, tracing patterns on your jaw while you looked up at him with big tired eyes. "Jealous of me? Being able to lay in these mattresses?"

You let out a laugh. "How many of your muscles are cramped after last night?”

“Because of sleep or…?” He trailed, pursing his lips in thought. You groaned, placing your palm across his face to either smother him or prevent him from seeing how flustered you got. You were usually the one making vilgar jokes. It sat differently when Spencer did it, it made you more nervous.

“You’re so stupid,” He laughed underneath your palm and muttered out.

“Actually—“

“Don’t ‘actually’ me,”

Spencer’s teasing, even in your state of utter exhaustion, didn’t leave you cranky or annoyed. It never did, It always did the opposite. You became all mushy and soft when it came to Spencer and every gesture was laced in nothing more than absolute adoration.

He grew quiet as he let his thumb linger across your cheek, realizing the joke had died down. He gazed your face so lovingly, it almost hurt. You closed your eyes and basked in the comfort of his gaze.

You and Spencer had been dating for over a year now. The two of you met when you became part of the BAU not long after he had started. Your proximity in age had been the initial reason for a friendship, but then it started shifting into something beyond that and before you knew it, you started seeing him outside of work, weekends… The majority of your time was spent beside him.

You still recalled with humor how it took a while for him to make a move. It didn't take long for him to become your friend, not at all. But the second the two of you realized things were moving beyond a friendship, he forgot any notion of how to operate like a normal human being. You had found it extremely endearing realizing how much of an effect you had on him— you still did.

Slowly falling in love with each other was probably one of the most cathartic events of one another’s lives because it distinguished such a firm before and after.

Working in the FBI had always felt so loud and caotic, but ever since Spencer, the world became a little more quiet and a little less stressful.

Spencer leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips, savoring any and every second he could with you. You sighed happily into the kiss, realizing how all your muscles began melting into his touch.

You pulled away, pecking his lips two more times just for desperate measures.

"I missed you." He hummed, placing a small peck to your forehead before allowing his hands to travel down the side of your ribcage and onto your back.

You crooned lowly, letting your eyes flutter close as you let him trace small patterns onto your back with his fingertips. Your body erupted in a string of goosebumps, feeling nothing but overwhelming pleasure seep into every muscle and joint in your body. The jolts of electricity seeped through your spine. It made your heart flutter and swell, feeling how light his fingers danced across your skin and how gentle he was with you.

It had taken a lot for Spencer to open up to physical touch, so that being said, all these small gestures from him were all the more special.

You knew there was a side of him that loved being connected to you through any sort of physical contact, wether it be holding his hands, a kiss on the cheek, linking your arms together, saying hi in the morning with a hug or a soft peck. His insecurities in the beginning of the relationship prevented him from letting that side show.

With time and patience, and lots of reassurance on your side, physical contact with you began nearly as necessary as breathing to Spencer.

Spencer always enjoyed giving you back scratches. He loved how your body immediately fell into his when he dragged his fingers along your back. Like he could physically see the knots of stress unfold. He sometimes grabbed your arm to himself and traced patterns across while you were watching movies or when you woke up.

There won’t be a day he forgets to greet you at your desk before heading to his own, despite always trying to avoid being seen by Morgan, who’d typically tease him endlessly.

Nevertheless, he’d still always bend over your slouched position at your desk chair in the morning and say hi. He’ll let his hand linger on your back and trace repetitive circles. Even if it was just thirty seconds, your body responded incredibly well to his soft touches.

Spencer was extremely good at reading you, and he responded to your needs in a way no one else had ever managed. Seeing just how close to collapsing you had been when you got to the room, he desperately wanted to draw circles onto your back until you fell asleep.

And god, were his back scratches just what you needed.

Right now, with his hands trailing around your tired body and aching back, you could practically hear yourself purring. His hand travelled along your shirt, reaching the hem and peeking his hand underneath it in order to feel the smoothness of your skin— that and knowing you loved it even more.

When he felt your body deflate he chuckled softly to himself. You mumbled quietly, sighing contently. “Hmm,”

"Did you know that when someone cratches your back, your brain releases Serotonin?" He started. You looked up at him with a sleep induced smile as his hand continued traveling along your back.

"No, I did not."

"It's a neurotransmitter that promotes positive feelings. Our skin is abundant with sensory receptors which are called mechanoreceptors. When stimulated, specifically by human touch, they send signals to the brain which triggers pleasurable sensations. It's kind of like a light therapeutic touch, some people even call it scratch therapy." His hands traveled mindlessly, along with his words down at you.

"Its primary purpose is to enhance one's mood for the better since it mainly releases endorphins and serotonin, hormones that tend to fight off cortisol. It's also said to relieve muscle tension, since the repetitive motion stimulates the natural release of these mood-boosting hormones. Your muscles respond and alleviate all the discomfort and stiffness on their own."

"Most importantly, it mimics gestures of affection and care. This specific type of touch motivates a sense of connection which can foster trust and bonding. Most people turn to this form of therapy because of how soothing the sensation can be both mentally and physically." He expounded as you watched him with nothing more than complete awe.

Spencer rambling about anything and every topic you could bring up was your favorite thing about him,— other than his smile.

Unlike many people who knew him, you actually listened and soaked up every single word he said. Hell, you learned more with him in the past year than the first five years of your adulthood.

"So thats why you always scratch my back, huh?" You pointed a finger at him and he smiled.

"That and because I love you,"

"I love you— And when you go all wikipedia on me," You kissed the corner of his jaw and positioned yourself sound against his chest. One of his arms held you against his chest while the other continued its repetitive patters. "Don't you dare stop with this scratch therapy stuff, I was just starting to feel sleepy,”

He kissed the crown of your head as you rested . "Wasn’t planning on it.”

[sageivyreads]

cat nip detox

Ghoap x street kitty!hybrid fem!reader

introduction: hello! this is part 4 of Kitty! i’m honestly not sure if there will be any more parts as i don’t have any more ideas as of yet :/ sorry if future me leaves u on a cliffhanger forever. there is another puppy reader part in the works though! no timeframe on that yet so let’s just get into what’s here today ;) basically gross simon and icky johnny who plays into it.. so yeah. can u tell i like choke holds. abuse of commas 😓😓 partially proofread. 4.3k words. previous part and masterlist

contains/warnings: nonconsensual groping & touching, yucky descriptions of spit, dubcon oral sex (reader does want the sex to an extent but there’s something else she doesn’t consent to), 2 spanks, coercion & manipulation, kidnapping, drugging, barely there threesome, ‘Kitty’ used as nickname for reader, negative self talk.

A heaviness is lifted from your shoulders when Simon leaves. You may have interacted more with him, but not many were positive. He was unpredictable, rude, and trapped you inside his house, all while seeming to hate you.

You appreciate Johnny a bit more. He’s nice to you. He’s a bit of light streaming from a window into Simon’s cold apartment of a heart. You don’t know why he’s keeping you here.

Johnny seems to like you. Maybe it’s just a relationship thing, but Simon will deal with you until Johnny gets bored. And you know the deal, then you’ll be tossed to the streets again. It’s not new.

At least they seem to be somewhere around middle class. They have enough to spare. You’ll stay a few more days, stock up on some essentials, and you’ll be on your way. They can’t kick you out if you’ve already left.

So, you let him tug you to the bathroom, willingly go along with him using that horrid disinfectant on your arm, and bandage you back up with some clean gauze. You let Johnny pull you into his side once Simon’s left, turn on the television, and tuck your head against his shoulder.

You struggle to stay awake, the only fuel you have being fear and rage at this whole situation. At yourself. How could you have ended up here?

You know better.

You know you’ll get out of this. You chose to be reckless, and now you’ll choose to be smart about it.

He smells nice. Like pine tar. Warmth.

A bonfire, only you’re just a little bit too close.

Your nose easily falls into place into the indent behind his jaw. Your breaths wash over his collarbone. You can hear the dulled roars of a crowd, and every once in a while, his muscles tense as they cheer.

You only get more tired. You sit up a little more, side propped against Johnny's, hand coming up to cover your mouth as you yawn.

You see him smile in the corner of your eye, and he still is when you turn to him.

“Need t’be put down fer a nap?”

You shake your head, ignoring the urge to roll your eyes. His head turns back to the screen briefly, noting the beginning of half-time, before taking your hand in one of his hardened ones and beginning to stand.

“Well, how about we go wash up?”

Just the motion of standing makes you nauseous, stomach turning lin waves as you resist the urge to gag. You quickly brace your free hand on the couch to help prop yourself up, blinking rapidly to help with the dizziness.

“We?” you ask, confused.

His smile turns more impish, and he tugs you closer as he starts pulling you towards the bedroom.

“Yes, we. Not shy, are ya? Jus’ to conserve water, of course. Bills are expensive these days, y’know?”

No, you don’t know. You don’t remember the last time you’ve even seen a bill in your name. You don’t know the prices considering you don’t- can’t pay them, but you’ve sure heard a lot of people with a home complain about bills.

You wish you had that issue.

You also don’t know how he hasn’t realized you’re not quite the outgoing type. No, he knows.

No response is given.

Once he’s brought you to the bathroom attached to their shared bedroom, he reaches for you. You can’t help the instinctive step you take back, and you almost feel bad when you see the wounded look on his face.

“Ye okay, Kitty?” he questions, brows furrowing slightly. Like he hasn’t trapped you in his home. Like he hasn’t started treating you like his girlfriend. Like it wouldn’t make total sense for you to be unsettled.

“Yeah, I’m just, uh…”

He sighs through his nose, pulling back the curtains of the tub.

“Listen, how about you get in first, and I’ll keep my eyes closed the whole time. Deal?” he adds, pushing his hand out towards you.

Whatever it takes.

You take his hand and let him pull you closer as he turns the faucet on. He switches the water to be directed through the shower before he lets the two of you switch places, stepping back to be behind you. You don’t know if he’s turned around or closed his eyes, but you don’t think you want to.

Trying to be quick with the removal of your clothes isn’t easy when your hands are trembling. You shudder violently when you step under the warm water, squeezing your eyes shut as you stay facing the wall.

“I-I’m in,” you breathe shakily, hugging your arms.

“Alrigh’. Gonna step in behind ya. Don’t rip ma head off.”

You hear the rustle of clothes, ears twitching. Your tail wraps around your thigh as you listen to him step into the shower behind you, flinching slightly as you feel him place a hand on your back.

“There ya are,” he murmurs, tucking his chin over your shoulder and grasping your side with his hand. You’re familiar with this feeling now. He’s not quite pressed up against you, but you can feel the warmth of his chest. You ignore the way your head naturally tilts to one side to make space for him.

“What’s got you so skittish today?” he asks, as if this is new behavior from you. As if he isn’t the one who trapped you in his home.

“Just… not used to this, is all. Want to go back outside.”

“Soon,” is all he tells you, and you don’t know if you believe him anymore. You want to.

He holds you carefully, tilting your head back to keep your hair out of the water as he reaches around you to grab men’s body wash. Compared to the 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner next to it, it looks almost ornate.

His rough hands are surprisingly gentle with you. Even as they scrape against your skin, he’s slow and leisurely with the way he washes you. Around the slopes of your shoulders, down your sides, up your chest. You ignore the way his hands unnecessarily cup around your breasts. Over the curve of your stomach and dipping between your thighs.

You choke on saliva as he does, hand jerking to grip his wrist.

“Easy, Kitty,”

His hand stays strong.

He isn’t looking to give you pleasure. Instead, his fingers swerve around your clit and down your slit to ‘clean’ you. You wish you could enjoy it. Wish you could lean into his touch and-

No.

“Jus’ washin’ you.”

“I can wash myself,” your voice tremors, chest rising up and down a little harsher.

“Ah’ know you can.” he huffs, leaning his cheek against your jaw from behind. His hand leaves you, briefly, squeezing more soap into his hands before he begins on your legs.

You’re not brave enough to fight him. Not today. You don’t want bad blood, you just want peace. You can only have peace if you leave.

He washes the entirety of your body before moving onto himself. Avoiding your hair. It makes sense to you, considering they’d just done it the other day. While you were unconscious. While you have no recollection.

What else could they have done?

The thought makes you shiver.

You quickly shift your thoughts to something more digestible. He cleanses his hair as though he’s a dog, scrubbing aggressively and shaking his head to send excessive water flying all over the bathroom as he turns the faucet off. You both step out.

He wraps up in a towel and turns to clean himself, seemingly unconcerned with the fact you can fully see his ass. When the rustling of him putting on clothes gets loud enough to cover the sound of their sink cabinet creaking open, you manage to snag a few pads from ripping open a brand new box.

You’d seen them earlier when Johnny was giving you a new bandage for your arm. You tried not to ruminate on questioning why these grown men had period product, women’s clothes, women’s underwear-

Maybe they had an open relationship? No, you would’ve seen someone in the time you’d watched them. A roommate? Nope, same thing. Maybe they were swingers.

Yeah, that makes sense. You’ll go with that.

You crouch down to slip them into the pocket of the pants you wore previously to the shower, and you toss them in the laundry bin casually when he faces you once more. He doesn’t seem suspicious. Just annoyed with the fact that his hair keeps dripping, cursing under his breath. He wraps a towel around his waist and grips your wrist to tug you along with him.

Your wet feet slip along the floor as he drags you, much more focused on getting to the bedroom. He releases you once you’re inside, letting you wander to the bed on your own as he fishes through the dresser.

You sit with the towel wrapped around your armpits, holding the fabric tightly to your body. He stumbles around a little as he pulls some new clothes on. Blue boxers, a red wool-looking sweater, and some casual black pants. He’s not very balanced.

He rifles through the other drawers and brings you out a new outfit, but places them aside instead of clothing you like you expected. You watch as he huffs and puffs until he finds a pale green bottle of lotion, giving you another one of those smiles that make your breath tremble while he kneels in front of you.

“What’re you doing?” you sniffle, holding the towel closer to your body.

“Relax,” he coaxes, squeezing a pump of lotion into his hands. “Yr’skin is so dry, jus’ giving ya a little moisture.”

He rubs his hands together, reaching for your left ankle and starting a soft massage up your leg. You notice the tip of his tongue popping out, running along his lower lip. It makes you anxious.

Excited.

“You don’t need to. Really.” you breathe, but you don’t pull away.

“Let me do this for ya, Kitty.” he says, looking up at you with those blue eyes. They don’t scream danger. No, it’s something else. Something wild and fierce. Not scary or scared, just… off.

It unsettles you. Turns you on.

You nod absently, staring down at him as he reaches higher up your leg. His fingers work near flawlessly. Purposeful. So, when he gets to the top of your leg and his fingers slip along the cleft between your thigh and cunt, you know it’s intended.

He switches to your right, using his warm hands to encompass you all the same. When he’s made your upper leg, he rests one of his hands on your right inner thigh, the other palm slipping under you to slather your left cheek. His thumb is resting on the curve above your slit. Rubbing up and down, back and forth, not quite touching your more sensitive parts. It feels like a warning.

The rest of his movements are made with his left hand only. You feel him reach towards your towel, pulling it to slowly fall on the bed behind you. You exhale shakily. He keeps his right hand just above the little bundle of nerves, pumping some more lotion into his other. He begins to rub it onto your hip, up around your lower stomach and sternum.

His thumb lowers. Resting right over your pulsing clit. Presses.

“Johnny-“ You jolt, voice wavering.

“Shhh. Yer fine.”

You glance at his face, insides clenching, “I don’t- You-“ your voice breaks off on a choked whine, head falling back between your shoulders. It shouldn’t feel like this. You don’t like feeling out of control, but now you feel that your entire being, bare throat and all, has been plucked by them.

Your lips part to pant as he starts to rub half-circles atop your clit. You can’t tell whether it’s from stress or pleasure. Your lids fluttered closed.

Stop, no, more, now-

He abandons rubbing the lotion part your collarbones, both thumbs parting your lower lips. One thumb just above it, raising the skin of your clitoral hood to expose the little bead beneath. “Fuck, look how pretty she is…” he mumbles softly, his voice startling you all the same.

“Please-“ you choke out, head lifting forward and righting itself. You feel too vulnerable. Too exposed. He rubs his thumb in light circles around your bare clit, your fingers curling against the bedsheets.

His hands slip around your thighs, gripping the curve of your ass to pull you to stand, feet dragging against the floor. Your hands snap to press against his shoulders for support, your vision fixed on the way his pretty blue eyes look up at you. Fuck.

“I gotcha, baby.” he exhales, and you frown. He cranes his neck to press kisses along the part of your slit, gaze focused on you, then flitting to somewhere behind you, before opening his mouth to carefully suck your clit into his mouth. Your mouth drops open, cheeks feeling warm as the muscles in your neck knot together, head falling back just to shove you back into reality as your head hits a firm pillow of flesh.

You flinch in surprise, head snapping to the side to see the side of someone’s jaw, then raise your gaze higher to meet Simon’s. Your muscles are stiffened in preparation to flee, eyebrows pinched together in a guilty expression, corners of your lips tugged down into a frown.

He’s staring at you. You return it. What’s there to say? ‘Hey, you’re back. By the way, your boyfriend is eating me out. Sorry?’

Until Johnny’s lips part to make way for his tongue, your spine curving inward and eyes rolling to the back of your eyelids as your head meets Simon’s shoulder. Your hands drop from your chest to lace into his hair and tightly grip the strands.

“Fuck,” you sputter, eyelashes drifting shut. You feel a pleasant ache in your lower stomach, muscles twinging in a good sort of pain.

There’s movement behind you, a rustling of Simon’s pant pockets against the back of your bare leg. You feel his hands raise- and there’s pressure on your neck now, a clasping noise right next to your ear.

It’s hard to make your eyes force themselves open when Johnny's mouth feels so good, but the strange noise has you curious.

One of your hands comes up to your neck, feeling around to feel a leather strip banded around your neck. Johnny tightens his grip on the backs of your thighs and pulls you closer. Renews his efforts. Your pleasured noise is cut off by how startled you are, hand frantically pulling at the collar on your neck.

“What-“ you squeak, only a finger or two fitting between the collar and your skin before Simon is redirecting you. He grips your forearms, maneuvering you until he can clasp both your wrists in one of his bear-like hands, pinning them against your sternum. His other arm hooks around your collarbones and pulls you flush back against him. “What’re you doing- Stop-“

“Settle down,” he scolded, feeling your muscles tense as you squirmed. A grunt- halfway between pleasure and panic is then the next thing that slips from your lips as you struggle. Johnny is acting none the wiser, flattening his tongue against your opening and dragging up until your fingers twitch.

You moan, displeased, as Johnny draws his hand up to press his thumb to your clit. Firm pressure at first, almost a bit too much for your liking, until he starts rolling the nerves underneath his thumb.

It’s when you get to the point of baring your teeth that Simon decides you truly need an attitude adjustment. His forearm tightens around your collarbones until it is flush with your neck. Holding the fragile dip of your throat in the stiff tendons underneath the roughened flesh of his arm.

A justified rumble of disapproval bubbles up your throat only to be caught in its tracks by his grip tightening. Your breath gets weaker, vision a little hazier, muscles losing some of their fight, while your head gets lighter.

“There y’go…. That’s it.” His words are molten against the back of your neck. He steals your last breath, holding you for a few more seconds until he loosens his grip. You gasp, the air whooshing down into your lungs harshly. It leaves your head delightfully fuzzy from the rush, eyes watering until a tear streaks down your cheek.

You let your head fall back willingly this time. You go a little looser in his arms, hands going limp in his grip while you lean back against him. Johnny takes the newly relaxed muscles as his sign to slip his tongue inside of you, your thighs instinctively squeezing around his head.

You let out some sort of indignant squeak as your voice comes back, hips leaning away from his motions and causing you to bump into Simon behind you. It doesn’t give you much, besides a guess on Simon’s opinion of the situation considering the imprint of his cock against his thigh.

Johnny just digs his fingers into the meat of your thighs while he hums against you. Simon doesn’t seem as pleased. “Give it up, love. Fighting just makes him want you more.”

You moan, displeased as Johnny’s tongue makes its way back inside you. It somehow feels more visceral, more raw than your fingers do. It aches in a beautiful way. Johnny’s hand slips up your side, palming the swell of your breast when he reaches it.

His tongue slips out of you, drawing the muscle up to replace his fingers against your clit. Your toes curl in your socks as he sucks it into his mouth, thumb coming down to rub circles around your opening instead.

They work together like a perfect melody. Johnny’s finger pressing just barely inside, his lips making way for his tongue, Simon’s forearm tightening just at the right time. It feels like amber burning between your legs, the fire spreading up your abdomen and down your thighs.

You nearly screech your way through the climax of it, your throat grating painfully. Simon’s arm around your throat makes you feel ten times lighter. You should feel scared.

You don’t.

Your eyes flutter back open without the knowledge of ever closing them, flicking down to Johnny between your legs. He slowly pulls his mouth off of you, his smile surprisingly sweet for the filthy things he just did to you. It nearly enrages you.

“I hate you.” You pant, bare chest heaving. He just fucking smirks at you.

Simon releases your arms, and your shoulders release their tension. Your hands stay where they are, glued to your sternum, fingers curling and flexing to test the renewed sensation. His freed hand dips down between your legs, your brain too fried to defend yourself. Your nose scrunches in disgust as he collects your saliva on his fingers before subsequently smearing the liquid on your cheek with his index and middle fingers.

“Yeah, m’ sure y’do.”

Your hands come up to push at his forearm, sending yourself further back into his chest. “Ew, that’s- fucking gross!” you blurt, ignoring his snicker.

Johnny stands in front of you and grabs your face in his hand, smushing your cheeks between his thumb and other fingers. He takes his time licking the stripe of slick off your cheek, moaning like it’s the most delectable thing he’s ever tasted.

He pulls away with a laugh, deep in his chest, licking his lips and releasing your face.

“Fuckin’ delicious.”

You scowl at him, the space between your eyebrows crinkling with the amount of distaste in your expression, ears turning to the side. You wish you could like them. You wish you could relax for once.

Fuck them. Fuck their apartment. Fuck their money. Fuck their perfect faces and gentle hands. You want out.

You cringe internally at nearly every other interaction with them throughout the day. They’ve touched you. Felt what it’s like when you come. Tasted the tacky substance between your legs.

It grosses you out to have someone know you so intimately, without even knowing your name. ‘Kitty’ isn’t *so* insufferable anymore, but you still don’t love to hear it.

It’s later in the day, Simon doing whatever he does in the bathroom that makes him take so goddamn long, when you decide it’s time. Johnny is curled up in their bed, under the covers, waiting for you to return with water. You won’t.

You’d said you were thirsty when you saw a moment that your biggest threats were at their weakest. It’s not nice. You don’t enjoy it. It's necessary.

You open the cabinets a few times, pretending to look for the glasses. (You wouldn’t need to, you’ve already been here a dozen times.) You turn on the faucet, too, hoping it covers some of the noise while you're grabbing the things you’d stashed below the sink. A few pads, some protein bars, and a bottle of water. A pair of socks, ibuprofen, and some toothpaste. Things they won’t miss. Things they don’t need.

You’re currently kneeling in front of the cabinet under the sink, shoving as much as you can fit into the front pocket of the hoodie snatched just a few minutes ago. You curse quietly to yourself as the toothpaste clatters to the ground to your left, and you go to reach for it, startling when the tube is beside a pair of legs.

“‘the fuck are y’doing?”

A jolt of surprise runs through your body at the sound, lips parting and closing like a fish out of water when your startled gaze lands on him. You wince as you bang your head on the counter on your way up. You frown, ears tilting to the side at the sound of his voice.

Your shoulders are up by your ears, and your arms are held close to your chest while you stare at him. Your voice comes out unnaturally high-pitched and quick-paced. “I- You just- You don’t even *like* me. It doesn’t have to be a big deal, I’ve already thanked you for everything, you can just let me leave-“

He grabs you by the face, thick fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks. You can only imagine the way you look, lips smushed together by his grip, despite your attempt to glower. “Y’think I’d let you stay in my fuckin’ apartment, eatin my fuckin’ food, if I didn’t like you?”

And when you don’t respond, you can’t with the way your lips are pressed together, he shakes your head like an unruly dog might. You can almost feel your brain rattle around in your skull. “Hm? Think I’d let you make out with my boyfriend?”

“Mmph!-“ you aren’t allowed to begin speaking with how quickly he smashes his lip against yours, your teeth catching on his upper lip, but he doesn’t mind. Your hands raise to his abdomen, ready to push away.

His other hand comes around to press a heavy hand on your ass, pushing you to stumble forward until your chest collides with his.

All the while, he’s pried your mouth open, ignoring when you try to shove him out, moaning unnecessarily loud as he sucks on your tongue. You can feel the copious amounts of spit swapping back and forth between mouths as he ravages you, a foamy glob sliding down your chin and onto his thumb, where it drips down his hand.

It’s only when you’re struggling to gasp for breaths that he decides to pull away. When you open your eyes again, your head immediately turns to the side with the way he’s staring at you, heavy breaths coming from his nose.

Your eyes are watery and glossed over, lips raw from his teeth, a bit of perspiration at the back of your neck. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“That help you?”

You nod, lips parted to pant, eyes reopening. You’re not sure it did.

“Good.” He huffs, tugging on the D-ring of your collar before freeing you and shifting aside to let you pass. “Go join Johnny. I’ll get your water.”

You’re frozen for a moment, mind buffering before it catches up just to hear the sound of Simon reengaging the lock on the window. You feel a clap on your ass just as you start to walk away, shoulders jumping while a yelp leaves your lips.

You hurry your pace, nearly stumbling in your urgency to get away from him as you hear a chuckle from behind you. You frown, tail agitatedly swishing between your legs as you walk through the hallway. Soap is sleepily smiling on the bed when you come across the open bedroom doorway, lifting one of his arms for you.

“There ya are. Where’s your water?”

“Um…”

“I’ve got it.” Simon interrupts from behind you, causing you to jolt once more. You look at him over your shoulder, and he just raises a brow, signaling for you to continue.

“I couldn’t find the cups. Simon helped.” You breathe, exhaling through your nose. His name tastes foreign in your mouth. Tingles on your tongue. You swallow through thick saliva, walking around the bed to sit on the opposite side of the bed.

Johnny does seem to mind the space, opening his mouth, just to be interrupted by Simon coming to sit next to you. He squishes you up against Johnny and forces you to settle between them. Johnny hooks an arm around your neck, pulling you down to be reclined with him.

Simon hands you your water wordlessly. You take it, hands clasped around the glass, eyes distracted by the small, white flurries swirling around at the bottom of the cup. You make eye contact as you pause. He holds strong with that same, dead look in his eyes, and watches as you take your first sip.

You know better.

You shove the thought down, as well as the small satisfaction at Simon looking pleased. You settle in closer to Johnny, fixing your blurry vision on the television.

You’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe.

notes: not my best work 😞 i might edit some in the next few days. just wanna get it out or ill never post it. this is also like my third time writing smut soooo… did i match your freak. be honest

taglist: @eyes-ofhell @insideboburnham @mellohimmku94 @uglygirltrying @ghostsoapwhore @callsignao3 @risk606 @theyoungeagle @honestlymassivetrash @lazystorycollector @kxnnxy @skullcrawler @sweetnightowl @angelic-thingys @pagesfalling

[coldhndss]

A sight for sore eyes

Yukimiya Kenyu

request

“You don’t have to come by you know..” Your hesitant voice sounded through the phone to the other end of the speaker.

“Sounds like you really don’t want me to meet your family.” He hummed in thought, the clicking of his car’s indicator lingering in the background.

With a deep sigh and a smile to yourself, you wrapped your arms around a large pillow on your bed, placing the phone beside your ear on speaker. “It’s not like that, Yuki. I can’t exactly explain it, but you’d be able to tell straight away if you see it.”

 “…Guess I’ll take your word for it then.” A soft chuckle strung alongside his words. “I’m still going to come over though. I’ll just have to deal with it, right?”

He sounded so confident that it’d be fine, though you worried how things would unfold knowing your younger sister was back from college and would be for a while. She’d always been spoiled by your parents who fold under any pressure from her.

“I… I can’t take this anymore…!” She’d ‘sulk’ to herself, before rushing to her room, locking the door behind her. She’d sit there for upwards of 10 minutes max, and soon after, she’d give up and return with another attempt at garnering sympathy.

For the second round, she’d exaggerate her sobs, heaving and heavily coughing. After a few moments of feature film acting, she’d drop the bomb.

With a hand loosely holding her neck, she’d begin wheezing and shakily pointing to the counter where her asthma puffer sat. You’d seen this hundreds of times. Of course, she had her moments where she’d genuinely suffer an asthma attack. But it was painfully obvious to you when she was faking it.

Despite that, your parents would give in, rushing to her assistance and complying with her out of fear of her having another lethal attack similar to the one she had as a child.

You had a feeling she’d pull a stunt once she sees him, knowing he was out of her reach. Despite your worries, Yukimiya ensured you that he’d be there to meet your parents, not to meddle in things that didn’t concern him.

Ending the call, he told you he’d be there in around half an hour. You quietly let your parents know, and headed back to your room to prepare an outfit.

Sitting on the couch in the living room, you fiddled with the fabric of your dress, nervously waiting. Suddenly, your sister walked in, inspecting the living room with her arms crossed.

“Why is the house so… tidy all of a sudden?” Her scrutinizing gaze fell to you. “And why are you dressed up like that? Having a photoshoot?” She sneered.

“A friend is coming over.” You replied, wondering what made her come out of her room where she’d usually be sleeping until midday.

Your mother was preparing a fruit platter in the kitchen, when her voice called out to your sister. You exhaled a sigh as relief as she left the living room; one step closer to her returning to her room.

Almost immediately as she was out of sight, a knock came from the door. You stood up, flattening your dress and taking one last glance in the mirror before opening the door.

“Ah, there you are.” You were greeted by Yukimiya who was carrying a cake box and a large bouquet of elegant, neutral coloured flowers whose hue matched his clothes. He wore an overcoat that ran down to his shins, complimenting the fall colours present within his turtleneck and pants.

Before you could say anything, the overly familiar sound of your sister gushing met your ears. Whipping your head around, you shot her a glare as though to say ‘don’t you dare.’ It might keep her at bay for now.

He hadn’t even stepped foot inside your house yet, and you were already worried.“May I come in?” He smiled, offering the gifts to you. Taking them from him you led him inside to the house.

“You didn’t need to do all this...” Forgetting the annoyance you felt towards your sister moments before, your lips curved upwards.

“I happened to be at the pastry store and they had your favourite. How could I leave without getting it for you?” He chuckled as the two of you made your way to the living room where your parents and unsurprisingly, sister were waiting.

The three of them stood up, politely greeting Yukimiya. Your father shook hands with him and your mother took the gifts from you, placing the pastry box and bouquet on the coffee table in between the couches.

Though your sister wasn’t even trying to hide her intentions. While four of you sat, chatting together, she suddenly shifted from where she was sitting next to your parents – to the couch you sat on with Yukimiya.  

“A Model?” Your mother questioned “Well, you certainly are very tall and handsome.” She looked towards your father who smiled.

Yukimiya let out a coy laugh “It’s not much, really”.

Though suddenly, your sister’s unwanted voice swamped the conversation that the four of you were having.

“You are handsome!” With a giggle, she inched closer and placed a hand on Yukimiya’s shoulder. “I look pretty good, but what if you and I were together? Two people who are…” Her gaze narrowed as it shifted to you “…easier on the eyes.”

Yukimiya uncomfortably stood, shrugging her hand off his shoulder as he did so. He politely smiled at your parents, excusing himself before asking you where the bathroom was. As you lead him to the corridor outside the living room, your eyes reflected apology - what you had worried about seemed to be happening right in front of you.

Once you returned, you noticed that your sister looked elated, and she took your hand by force, leading you to back the corridor to ‘chat��.

“Where did you meet him?!” She whispered in a scolding tone.

“None of your business.” Your words were blunt, telling her more than enough.

“Is that so?” She sneered. “Well, he won’t be with you any longer now that I’m around.”

That was the last straw. For as long as you could remember, she’s ripped toys, books and many belongings out from your hands whenever she pleased, and once she was done with them, she’d get rid of them. But this time it was something completely different.

Threatening to ‘take’ a person away was low. Especially Yukimiya, who was one of the only people you had met who actually paid genuine attention to your needs, considering your thoughts and feelings instead of treating you like a burden. Ever since you and him became closer to each other, the void in your heart has begun to heal - allowing you to feel what it’s like to be acknowledged and understood. So her threat did not come lightly to you at all.

“You wouldn’t dare do anything.” A scoff escaped your lips as you crossed your arms.

She sighed, mocking you with false pity“Come on, we know how this goes, don’t we?” She whispered, cocking her head to the entry of the corridor where your parents, who were none the wiser to her intentions sat.

“It won’t work on him. You’ll only embarrass yourself.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Though, it seemed that she forgot to consider a circumstance where she might’ve been heard.

The doorknob to the bathroom at the end of the hallway clicked and turned with Yukimiya stepping out wearing a surprised expression.

“Is everything okay?” He smiled, looking in your direction.

Sashaying a few steps in his direction, she locked her arm around his. “Yukimiya… My big sister, she’s...” Cracking her voice into a sob, she began to gradually elevate the sound. Just a few more words and your parents would come rushing.

“She’s.. so mean to me..!” As she rubbed her moistening eyes, he looked at her, confused. He then shot you a look that read ‘So this is what you meant.’ You couldn’t help but snicker a little. Though your little laugh seemed to get to your sister, as she decided that to be the reason for her to start shrieking.

“You have the nerve to let out such an ugly laugh while I’m crying!?” She whipped her head towards you. “You think you’re so pretty just because this guy gave you a second of attention?”

Dumbfounded, you opened your mouth to defend yourself but no words came out. You knew she wasn’t too fond of you but this was a whole new level of disdain. Suddenly, Yukimiya annoyedly yanked his arm away from her, and took a few steps towards you, standing bu your side

“I don’t exactly have a place to speak in this…” He looked at her, then back to you “family.. discussion. But the way you’re acting is completely uncalled for.” He’d been able to speak clearly for as long as you’ve known him, but to be able to shut your sister up hadn’t been within your expectations.

As he spoke, your parents appeared behind you, confused by the situation. Your mothers first instinct was usually to coddle your sister and ask her what was wrong. Though before she could do so, she dug the hole even further.

“But… but I’m so much prettier than she is! You don’t seriously like her?” She scoffed, folding her arms.

“Like?” His eyebrows were slightly raised in confusion. “I don’t think I’d come to visit the family of a girl I only liked, no?” He wore a smile, but you’d seen that expression multiple times before; and you knew he wasn’t about to lose his cool over a girl like her.

As a last resort, she tried to farm remorse from him; thinking that he’d fall for her exaggerations. She caught a glimpse of your parents standing behind you and him in shock, and panic began to wash over her as she realised that they’d seen the way she had been acting. Her eyes were dry despite all the fake sobbing she had done, and despite this, she began to heave, coughing and placing a hand on her chest. Although your mother did immediately rush to her side, this time it was to tell her off. Your father apologised to Yukimiya, and offered the two of you to sit back down wherever, and that they’d be there soon.

Leaving the corridor, you could still hear your mother and father scolding her, calling her behaviour ‘unacceptable’ as they saw through the act she had been putting up for years. As you sat back down on the couch, an audible exhale escaped your lips. “This is what I was talking about.”

Removing his glasses, he wiped them with a cloth from his pocket as he spoke, “Nothing I haven’t been through before.” He looked at you with warmth in his smile as he turned his body to face yours. “Besides, I wanted to talk to you for a little – just the two of us.”

Your eyes followed his hand as it reached inside his coat pocket, pulling out a small box. He gently opened it, revealing a glistening gold ring with a sizeable diamond perched at the top. Your gaze lifted, following his hand that took yours as he slipped the ring onto your finger. Warmth crept up on your face as your eyes began to moisten, and once again, you were at a loss for words, although this time was unlike before.

Eventually, you choked out a few words. “Yuki, you…”

Holding your hand with his two, his thumbs held your fingers, rubbing the back of your hand. “I did say I didn’t only like you.” He chuckled, his cheeks painted a gentle hue of red. “Unless, well, you don’t actually like me.”

The growing lump in your throat protested against your words you fought to speak once more. “Of course I like you…” You smiled as a memory played back in your head. “Didn’t I tell you that in high school?”

He nodded in response, being taken back to the same memory. “And what did I tell you then?”

The memory lapsed in your head, the words the same as they were when you first heard them. The redness on both of your faces, how you were too shy to meet each other’s eyes, and the way his voice shook ever so slightly when he spoke.

“That you’d always be with me.”

[munsonsreputation]

i can't talk to you when i'm like this

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: [2.1K]

warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, established relationship, reader has a history of shitty ex's, steve accidentally makes reader cry, a lot of angst regarding past relationships (feelings wise), steve's shitty childhood & terrible dad (brief), fluff at the end (yes because i am a softie)

summary: steve never raises his voice at you, but the first time he does, you can’t find it in yourself to tell him what's really bothering you when you’re seconds away from breaking down.

You hate how the tears coming springing to your eyes the second Steve raises his voice a little too loudly beneath his already apparent annoyance.

Your brain blanks out the second it bellows against the walls and comes hurtling down to your eardrums. It feels like glass shattering in a million different ways, cutting you open and killing you with a thousand cuts.

He’s frozen in front of you, blinking with a look of oblivion on his face because he’s waiting. His arms still held wide open after he asked a question: one that was posed with a tone too sharp for your liking.

“Why are you making it such a big deal?”

His usually sweet and gentle tone was long gone, or at least that’s how you heard it. Instead, it dribbled with irritation and resentment meshed all in one. The kind that sounded like he was fed up and wanted nothing to do with you anymore.

He was just trying to do a sweet thing by picking you both up some coffee and yet here you were starting an argument — you always had to ruin a good thing.

Your teeth dig into your gums, trying to find any way to hold off on the waterworks that you know are about to pour any second now. Cloudy orbs shoot down to your bare feet, trembling against the floorboards while you excuse yourself from the kitchen.

“I’m g-going to the bathroom.”

Your voice is delicate yet not the kind that Steve knows like the back of his hand — the one where you keep it so quiet like an oath when you whisper you love him when you think he’s asleep and no one else is around to hear it.

This time the oath is broken, cracked, just like your voice, torn at the seams between fear and panic. Its edges are frayed and tattered, and its tenderness that is usually formed out of affection is long gone as it cuts through your chest and causes your back to heave as you walk away.

He knows he messed up.

It’s stupid. You shouldn’t be so worked up over the barista leaving her number on Steve’s cup. But you are. You’re worked the hell up and you want him to understand why it is such a big deal to you.

It’s upsetting because you shouldn’t be this wound up and insecure. You know Steve would never even dare to dial the numbers left on the cup, let alone remember the name she left on there. He’s head over heels in love with you the same way you are with him — yet you just don’t get it.

You don’t get the way this makes your insides turn and the thoughts to start whirlwind in your head. At first you were just upset about the number, maybe even just mildly irked — but then the second Steve’s voice came to you like that… that’s when you entirely forgot how to even tell him how you felt.

Now you just felt stupid for making it such a big deal and turning it into this.

“Breathe….” you murmur to yourself jaw trembling as you try not to tense.

The tears finally roll when your back collides with the bathroom door and your shaky fingers lock it shut. Your heart feels like it’s on fire, one that consumes your entire being and engulfs you in the bluest blue instead of the blazing red.

The only thing keeping you from collapsing is the door that’s holding up your weight and it’s not long after that the person you love yet are avoiding is on the other side making it more difficult for you to attempt to make it seem like it’s not a big deal.

“B-baby… I’m so sorry.”

The apology comes in an instant, and you could almost feel his breath hitting your neck from behind the wood. You know it’s genuine…Steve has never ever made you cry. You feel now like you’ve taken everything out of proportion — you should’ve just giggled and said ‘oh that’s cute! too bad you’re my boyfriend!’

All of the things you wished you would have said play in your mind like punishment for the way you’ve acted. How you know you’ve turned the tables on him and made him look like the bad guy when he was far from that.

He was just shocked to come home and hand you your favorite drink only to be asked about the barista he barely gave his attention to. Your accusing voice after he did something nice wasn’t something he was expecting.

Your throat tightened, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to cover it up and make it seem like you weren’t upset. You shuffled from the door, towards the sink, turning it on yet making no move to put your hands under the water.

“I’m fine! I—I just had to wash my face!” You lie, trying to cover your tracks as if Steve doesn’t already know it.

There’s been times when things have upset you, not things that Steve has done, but things that life throws at you and most of the times you hate how wound up you get. Without failure, you sneak away, just wanting a moment by yourself to cry without anyone feeling bad for you or asking questions because they’ll never get it. They don’t understand that the littlest things can trigger something inside of you to completely shut down from the rest of the world.

No one gets it… but Steve does.

“Baby,” His voice is stronger this time, yet tender, “please, can I come in? I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Your fingers finally come in contact with the frigid water, dabbing the droplets over your eyes attempting to get them to settle instead of looking like you were just crying. There’s a sniffle that comes from you as you clear your airways and a pathetic smile that you press onto your face to try to hide how you’re really feeling.

The water shuts off and you’re opening the door, cutting his apology off altogether.

“I’m fine, Steve!”

Your voice isn’t swaying even with the volume it carries and neither with the faint laugh you give him when you meet face to face. Your lashes still bear the droplets of salt and your cheeks tinted red with the path they’ve traveled down.

He can feel the pain in your voice and see the wobble of your chin as you hold back everything inside. He hates that you feel like you have to mask how you’re really feeling when, in actuality, you should be furious at him for what he did.

“Baby,”

Sadness joins his concern, and he doesn’t bother to hide it — he’s not sure he can when his eyes leak the same emotion, “Baby, you’re not fine…I know you’re not fine.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes unconvincingly. “I literally am, babe… it’s cool. Everything is fine.”

He knows that now you’re trying to reassure yourself rather than him. Trying to play it off and make it seem like everything was okay. Like he’s just supposed to accept it and let you hold everything inside like torture when that’s far from what he wants.

Your attempts to brush past him are futile when his hands come out to hold your shoulders, his fingertips kneading your tense skin. He can feel the blood rushing from under your clothes and it’s not the kind of warmth you usually carry — you are blistering and if he looks hard enough, he can see the way your chest is trying to level itself out as you hold back.

It takes everything in you to not draw your eyes away from his because you don’t want him to know that you’re still feeling it. Feeling stupid and at the same time nothing at all because you don’t know what to feel anymore. There’s a whirlwind of emotions and none of them you can put a finger on because you’re just lost.

You just don’t want him to think you’re crazy… like you reacting to him raising his voice like that was something that would daunt him away.

One of his hands stops its movement on your skin, raising up to your cheek and cradling you gently. There’s a crease between his brows and his eyes seep with regret and guilt. His lips part and the words that leave them come in whispers and fragility — croaks and cracks guiding them.

“Everything isn’t fine… I acted like an idiot and raised my voice at you. I’m sorry baby, I—I never meant to do that on purpose. It just came out, but that isn’t an excuse.” He shakes his head at himself disappointingly because he knows better.

Steve was far from perfect in his own eyes, but he knew better because all his life if there was one person he didn’t want to be like, it was his dad. The dad that used to scream at his mother, and scream at him, and scream at the world when everything went wrong, and didn’t know how to talk if it wasn’t screaming.

He’d never forgive himself if he made you feel that way or even became a smidge of what his father was. But it wasn’t him who he was blaming for this — this was all Steve himself, and he knew that. Accountability needed to be taken from himself because the only person he was hurting was you and it was going to be okay.

Not in the heat of the moment, not ever.

You hadn’t even noticed you had tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, the faint taste of iron trickling onto your tongue when you realized you were biting down on the skin too hard trying to stop yourself from crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby, please just—just tell me how to make it better.” His voice pleads and reasons, wanting to make it right with you anyway he could.

You close your eyes, letting the tears fall as you feel his thumbs wipe them away. He’s done this times before, wiping away your tears that had spewed from another’s doing. Never did he ever think he would be the cause.

“I-it’s nothing… it’s stupid, I’m stupid and dramatic.” You swallow thickly, sniffling and twisting your fingers in your hand to fight off the lingering feelings.

He shakes his head. The obvious look of disapproval for your words covers his face because this was far from your fault. Sure, he was bewildered about the whole incident, considering he didn’t even know the number was left there until you brought it up, but for him to not know how to convey his frustration better was the real issue at hand.

Not the accusation, not the stupid number, not the oblivious girl who left her number: it was him, Steve’s idiotic actions that got you both here.

“Stop, don’t talk to yourself like that.” He insists, staring deeply into your eyes, searching for a reason why you were blaming yourself,

Your jaw shakes roughly before a sob rips through your mouth. Tightening your eyes to try to get the tears to stop, yet they don’t cease no matter how hard you try. Frustration builds inside of you because you should be over it by now. The fact that he apologized and was here trying to comfort you should be enough.

But something inside of you won’t let it die. The silence is filled with the memory of his voice shouting at you and the face that he stared back with.

“I—I don’t want you to think there’s something wrong with me.” You croak, covering your face and turning away from him to save you the embarrassment.

But he strays to where you are, sticking beside you with a comforting hand resting on your back, “Sweetheart, nothing is—”

You sob one more, this time with a grunt that is direct to yourself. Stomping your foot against the cold tiles, your hands come down to grip the edges of the counter tightly. Your reflection in the mirror is only half of what you feel, and when Steve steps behind you, all you can see is guilt, but at the same time patience knowing he’s ready when you are.

You try your very best to at least keep your sobs at bay just enough for you to speak through them and for him to understand.

“You’re not gonna wanna be with me anymore knowing I can’t—I can’t talk to you when I’m like this! I don’t know why, but I can’t… it makes me feel stupid, like I’m crying over something so tiny and now I’ve totally forgotten why we were even arguing in the first place.”

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head and reaching in front of you to bring your hair back and away from your face. His eyes keep yours in the mirror, watching at you with such a gentleness that even now doesn’t falter.

“We weren’t arguing. I was just dumb and raised my voice when you were asking me about it.”

You move your sights from his to the bottom of the sink, shaking your head, “No, b-but I shouldn’t have reacted like that and made you look like the bad guy when yo—”

Your voice is traveling faster than you can think, spewing out words so hastily like you have to make him understand that it’s not his fault, but yours. It takes your breath away, hiccuping and coughing between a sob that leaves your mouth and bobbles in your chest.

Steve’s instantaneously rubbing your back, shushing you and trying to get you to calm down knowing you going on and on like this wouldn’t do you any good. He understands that you feel a lot of things very deeply and sometimes it isn’t an easy task to get them all out at once: he knows it and he’ll spend forever with you until you got it all out.

“Hey, hey, baby, c’mon… breathe,” He coos, his palm never stilling on your back feeling the deep breaths in and out, watching the tears fall down your cheeks and drip onto the counter.

It’s a kind of scene he hates to see, the one he wishes he could take from you and shoulder instead because watching you in such a state breaks his heart more than he could imagine. And this time it stings a little more knowing that he not only cannot shoulder your pain, but was the one creating it this time.

“Talk to me, please. What’s going on? Why’re so you upset at yourself and not at me?” He begs, trying to get a glimpse of what you’re feeling so he knows where the root is.

“B-because… I made it such a b-big deal.” You hiccup.

When you swipe angrily at your eyes with a ferociousness, that’s enough to make Steve step in and take it from here now that he knows where you’re coming from. A warm hand comes down onto your shoulder, pulling at you just enough for you to face him completely, weakly hanging your head low not knowing if you were strong enough to see him just yet.

“You didn’t make anything a big deal. I promise, we’re okay.” He whispers quietly, cupping your face in his hands, and bringing you face to face, “You’re not stupid and I could never think that you were. You’re human honey. It’s normal for you to be upset by things.”

“B-but I…I don’t want you to think you did something wrong—“

He stops you with a shake of his head. “But I did. I did something so wrong. I yelled when I shouldn’t have, and I made you feel like shit.”

Steve desperately needs you to know it. That this was his fault and no one else’s. That him making you feel like crap was the worst thing he could have ever done, but he was willing to man up to it and try to make things better, and at the same time he would understand if you wanted nothing to do with him after this.

Still, even after his words, you’re somehow even angrier at yourself, mind blaring at you for being such a dramatic person for making him go out of this way with all of this. That this was surely your fault and yours only, and if you didn’t take it off his plate, it was just something he would use against you one day to realize that he didn’t want to be with you anymore.

It’s what they all did — held it over your head and made you feel like you were wrong for feeling how you felt, so instead it was best not to feel anything at all. To hide it away and hope that being noncombative meant that everything was going to be okay and it wouldn’t give them a reason to run.

“I-it’s my fault—” You pinch your eyes, gulping back a cry as you shake your head in his hands.

His brows pull together, eyes squinting at you, not completely understanding why you’re doing this.

“Hey, stop, it’s not your fault. Don’t do that. Don’t take the fall for me,” Steve assures you with a sternness to his soft voice, continuing to wipe the seeping tears.

Somehow you can’t let it go, “But—”

“But nothing.” He starts, his voice composed yet unyielding in his tone.

He can’t stand it, clutching your face a little firmer, hoping that you would peek your eyes open to see him because he desperately needs you to. The second you do, your face twists again with heartache, praying that he would just let you go and walk out already, because by now, he probably thinks you’re insane — there’s no way he’s not thinking it.

His lips part, trying to find the right words to say, needing the perfect ones to get through you because he hates how you won’t let him take the fall, the one he so rightfully deserves to come crashing down on. You are everything to him and in some ways the feelings that you feel hit him right in the heart, and right now is no different, but there’s a wall between you both and his only goal is to knock it down completely.

“I—I don’t know why you feel like you have to protect me, but I promise you don’t.” He whispers, watching as you try to calm yourself, little sniffles going in and out and broken cries leaving your mouth.

His thumbs rub back and forth across your cheeks, soothing your withering skin. Slowly but surely your cries die little by little, eyes fixed on his, trusting that he means everything that he says, because Steve isn’t like the others — something that you should’ve known judging from his character alone.

“If I do something that makes you upset or sad, you should be able to voice that, not keep it in. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t tell me when I’ve done something wrong. I—I want you to feel safe and okay around me, enough to know that my love for you isn’t gonna change, just because you bring something up. You have every right to be upset, and angry, and disappointed, everything.”

He says it like he means it and you know it’s because he does. He lets every word hang from the stars as if he put them up there, and points them out just for you to know that they are there and true, because that’s all he ever wanted. For you to know that every word he speaks comes from his heart, and no matter how many times he needs to repeat it, he’ll do it over and over again, just so you know it’s real and until you believe them and know he won’t ever break them.

“Don’t ever blame yourself for me, please? I-I don’t want you to do that to yourself because I’m here and…and every time I fuck up or make a mistake, I swear I’m gonna own up to it and try to fix it. But I’m not gonna let you take the blame, okay?”

Being with Steve for so long still feels so new, especially when you know he isn’t like the rest of the boys from your past. He’s patient and kind with a big heap of understanding. Like everyone else in the world, he’s guilty of his own poor moments, but he’ll be damned if he takes that out on you or makes you feel like it’s your responsibility.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He murmurs, letting his hands fall away from your face, letting you decide what the next move is.

The tears that escape are more so in between the remains of the sadness being washed away with tears of love and gratitude. Your arms wrap around his torso, pulling yourself into him and burying your face into his chest where the tears soak through his chest. Without a second thought, his arms envelop you, rocking you both back and forth as he presses kisses on the top of your head.

It mends your heart not merely because he’s just sorry, but because you didn’t get plenty of sorries before. Left only with sweeping things under the rug and pretending like nothing ever happened — it never solved anything and never gave you much.

But Steve gives you everything and so much more.

A big chunk of you feels like you don’t deserve him because he seriously is the best person with an even better soul wrapped up into one and yet he chooses you — every day. He sees you through all the good and the bad and never makes you feel like you’re alone even when you could be a distance away when you’re right beside him.

When you talk too much, say too little, or sometimes say nothing at all — he’s there giving you a listening ear and comforting shoulder to lean on whoever you need it. And on the days when you can’t talk to him when you’re like this… he’ll wait until you’re ready and show you that he’s always going to be there every step of the way.

He’s everything you could have asked for and more.

You pull your face away from hiding, resting your chin up on his chest as you stared up at him.

“I’m sorry too. I—I shouldn’t have been so indifferent earlier and just told you what I was feeling from the get-go.” You sniffled, rubbing your hands over his back, smiling faintly when he nodded understandingly.

He knows that sometimes he might not quite get it, might not see things in the same light as you, but he would never try to dismiss your feelings. He would sit beside you through the storms and sunshines, knowing that he was learning more about himself and you with you in his life.

That because of you, the younger version of himself got to heal his deepest wounds and open himself up to a love he only through he could dream up. You were here making him a better version of himself, all while he was doing the same for you. Showing you that the scars and fears of your past didn’t have to live in the next person you met — that you could let it go and open yourself up to the love you deserved.

His love.

“I forgive you only if you forgive me,” Steve grinned, swiping away at the dampness on your cheeks.

You grinned, nodding up at him. “Of course, I forgive you.”

“I love you so much… nothings ever gonna change that.” He hummed, cupping your face, taking you all in for the person he loved so dearly.

You closed your eyes blissfully before a kiss was placed on your lips.

“I know, I love you too.”

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: hi all, I hoped you like this little one-shot/imagine... i had this one sitting in my wips for awhile and it was nearly finished but I didn't have the inspiration to finish it until now. I don't usually write angst bcs i am a fluff girl, but this concept just came to me bcs like a lot of people when someone raises their voice at me...i just freeze and i don't know what to make of it and i just start crying. i think steve would be super apologetic and i wanted to write this bcs i needed some stevie!comfort so yeah... i hope you all enjoyed!!!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

[wildwestdean]

repose

based on a request made by @chevroletdean! 🤍

a/n: this is a repost, because i tried to edit the main post when half asleep but my dumb ass deleted it instead 😭

summary: you catch a cold while out on a hunt with dean. you refuse to take it easy once back at the bunker, so he takes matters into his own hands to try and help you recover - even if it means bribing you into finally getting some rest

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 2.6k+

warnings: some mentions of violence/mutilation in the beginning, established relationship, stubborn reader, reader puts her own health on the back burner, reader doesn't like to feel useless, reader won't take her meds, fluff, a touch of angst, minor swearing, protective dean, worried dean, dean goes full caretaker mode, dean just really loves reader, briefest mention of clothes being taken off, reader gets carried around, more fluff

Dean knew it was a bad idea. 

He knew he should’ve tried harder to stop you, but really, what was he supposed to do? The suspect was about to get away, and you were too stubborn in your ways once you set your mind to something. All he could do was watch as you ran out the door, quickly disappearing within the sheets of freezing rain that were falling while he cursed to himself. 

His first thought wasn’t a declaration of fear that the suspect might get a drop on you. No, despite your appearance, your skills were rivalled only by those of Sam and Dean themselves; they taught you everything you knew, after all. Instead, shockingly, the first thought to cross his mind was: she’s going to catch a cold. 

Hurrying after you, you two easily managed to apprehend the suspect to haul him back to the warehouse for questions, all while Dean grumbled about how you should’ve stayed put and let him deal with it; a rant that only earned him a roll of your eyes in return. You didn’t venture out very far, and while it did feel like you were soaked straight through to the bone, the warehouse was growing closer and would soon offer respite from the downpour - his worrying, like usual, would end up being over nothing. 

Yet the chill you were met with once back in the warehouse almost had you regretting your choice, and had it not been for the sickening grin you were given by the douchebag that Dean was currently tying to a rickety chair, you probably would have. You were convinced it was even colder in here than outside; but you refused to let Dean in on that fact.

He didn’t pick up on it right away, focusing solely on extracting the answers that were buried behind the soulless eyes he glared into. He always enjoyed taking his time when it came to things like this, letting the fear and dread settle in their hearts as he threatened to carve into skin or chop off extremities. It was fun, really, and he was enjoying it right up until you decided to pitch in, voicing your own threat of cutting off a very precious body part piece by little piece.

As soon as the words left your mouth, Dean took on a new sense of urgency to get the information you two needed. You could see it in every choice he made: how his pacing quickened, how his voice got darker and tighter while his patience drained away, how he stopped giving warning before his knife dove into flesh. 

You knew he was suddenly in a hurry to wrap this all up, but what you didn’t know was why. You didn’t know that when you spoke, Dean heard the waver in your voice, the quiet chatter of your teeth as you shivered from the cold. You didn’t think it was noticeable, but when it came to you, there was nothing Dean wouldn’t notice. 

With the increase of effort and decrease of delicacy, it wasn’t much longer until Dean finally got what he needed, and he plunged his knife through skin and muscle one final time before eagerly leading you from the warehouse.

“Wait here,” he requested, gently tugging you back just before you could step outside. 

“What, why?” you asked, silently amazed at how warm his palm felt on your arm despite being just as drenched as you were. “We need to finish up.”

“Just wait here,” he repeated, running out into the darkness before you could even reply. 

Left confused in his wake, all you could do was stand there and wait for him to return, trying to ignore the way your whole body wanted to tremble in response to the frigid air. You really, really longed for a hot shower right now, and the fact you knew you needed to dispose of this body somewhere out in this storm made tears threaten to spill over onto your still dampened face. 

The sight of Baby’s headlights cutting through the curtain of rain was like a breath of fresh air to you, and you yearned to just curl up on her front seat while the heat blasted from the dash. 

“One step at a time,” you told yourself. “Take care of the body, then you can warm up on the drive back.” 

Dean made it clear he had other plans in mind when he pulled up as close to the door as possible, leaving the engine running as he ran back over to you. 

“Heat’s on,” he declared, shaking some excess water from his jacket. “Lock yourself inside, I shouldn’t be too long.” 

“Too long doing what?” you asked, totally lost. 

He looked just as confused as you were, not understanding what you didn’t understand. 

“Getting rid of the body,” he declared after a moment, as though it were completely obvious. 

“You’re not doing that alone,” you argued in bewilderment. 

“Yes I am,” he argued back. 

“Dean-” you wanted to argue some more, but he cut you off by taking your face in his palms. 

“Even the screams couldn’t cover up the sound of your knees knockin’ together,” he teased. “Go wait in the car, baby. If you don’t go willingly, I’ll gladly toss you in.” 

You had the urge to say no, wanting to be useful and help him, but you backed down when you saw the look in his eyes.

“Fine,” you agreed, sighing in defeat. “But if you’re not back soon, I will be coming to find you,” you warned. 

Dean grinned in triumph as he planted a kiss on your forehead. “Understood,” he confirmed, guiding you to the car before heading off to carry out his mission. 

It wasn’t until a few days later, when you finally made it back to the bunker, that you realized maybe Dean’s worrying hadn’t been over nothing after all. Despite having the heat cranked all the way up in every motel room, those worn down radiators could really only do so much. The piercing winds would seep through the meekly insulated windows, finding you even under the feigned safety of blankets and tight embrace of Dean; not to mention there being no way to avoid the icy blows whenever you made stops along the road. The sheer lack of sleep you got due to rushing back home seemed to be the final nail in the coffin, and your body was too exhausted to fight off the inevitable. 

It started as a tickle in your throat, which resulted in you continuously chugging back tea and honey; honey that Cas was extremely thrilled to provide you with. Dean was quick to notice you started doing this, and took it upon himself to bring you a mug whenever you were tied up with Sam and looking into some lore, or tirelessly helping Jack understand his latest discovery of the day. 

When the tickle in your throat developed into you having a full blown cough, he bought you your favourite cough drops, keeping an eye on them to make sure you didn’t run out. Though when they seemed to not be enough, he made sure to get you some cough syrup, too. 

He did his best to make sure you didn’t do too much, but asking you to take things easy was like asking a baby not to cry. It just wasn’t going to happen. You had the constant need to be productive, to be helpful. Feeling a little under the weather wasn’t going to change that. Him getting you to see a doctor was nothing short of a miracle, and the fact you were just about as stubborn as him was nearly ironic; he would laugh about it if he wasn’t so worried about you. 

His worry only magnified tenfold when he went to check on you one night, only to find your room empty. He tried convincing you to let him stay with you like usual, but you didn’t want him to get sick, too. He was really regretting not pushing back on that more, now that he found you in the library, lost in a pile of books; he had to take a breath to compose himself before speaking. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, approaching the table. 

“Research,” you croaked, eliciting another coughing fit. 

“Research?” he baulked. “For what? And why now?” 

You coughed once more, chugging down the rest of your tea before replying. “T’help Sammy. Couldn’sleep anyway,” you sniffled, words jumbled together from congestion.  

Dean sighed heavily, taking a seat beside you. “You didn’t even try to sleep, did you?” 

The lack of response from you told him everything he needed to know. 

“Alright, come on,” he announced, reaching for the book you were reading. 

Your reaction time was definitely slower than usual, but you still managed to pull the book out of his reach just in time. “No.” 

Knowing it would be a losing battle, and that it would probably cause more harm than good to just toss you over his shoulder and carry you to your room, he got up with a huff and left. You assumed he was angry, and felt a little guilty for upsetting him when he was just looking out for you, but you knew you were fine enough to carry on with this for a while longer.  

The last thing you currently expected was for him to return with a bowl of your favourite soup, leftover from when he made some for you earlier, and another large mug of tea, placing them on the free space in front of you before sitting back down. 

“If you wanna be helpful, then you’re gonna sit there and eat while I look for whatever the hell it is we’re looking for,” he ordered, easily snatching the book from you. 

“Fine,” you mumbled, picking up the spoon. “Bossy,” you added, hoping he didn’t see the smile playing on your lips as you feigned annoyance. 

He definitely did, but he kept it to himself as you gave him a cliff notes version of what you were looking into between spoonfuls of soup. 

You aren’t sure when it happened, but at some point between finishing the soup and drinking half the tea, you started to drift off; the warmth of his palm on your thigh and comfort of his soft rambling beside you lulling you to sleep. 

This time, Dean knew he would win the battle against you, and he carefully took you in his arms and carried you to bed, staying with you until morning.

Days had continued to go by, and you only seemed to be getting worse. Dean didn’t know what else to do and it was driving him mad - he couldn’t stand to see you like this anymore. 

He refused to take no as an answer now when it came to him doing things for you, and took over every task you tried to start. He followed you around, practically glued to your side, never letting you lift a finger and being a second pair of eyes when you did any research. 

Research that he tried to stop from coming in by threatening to break Sam’s legs if he didn’t quit bothering you for help, only to find out you were doing it of your accord. 

Even Jack had decided to stop coming to you for things until you were better, since he knew you’d never let him heal you.

Yet Dean knew it wasn’t enough. He knew you needed to just fucking lay down and rest. 

Waking up in the middle of the night to find your side of the bed empty once more, Dean stormed off towards the hub of the bunker as he shouted your name - he didn’t care if he woke everyone up at this point. 

He didn’t stop until he found you in the kitchen, frantically cleaning and completely unaware of his presence. 

“Baby?” he asked cautiously, hesitantly approaching you. 

“'m’not going back t’bed,” you told him, not even looking at him.

“Okay,” he said. “Why not?” 

“Too much t’do,” you replied simply, trying to breeze past him. 

“Hey, whoa,” he called, gently taking hold of your shoulders. “Look at me.” 

“I’m fine,” you said automatically, meeting his gaze after he forced your chin up.

He took note of your distant gaze and pale skin, practically burning under his touch. Suddenly, everything seemed to click into place. “You’re really not, sweetheart,” he determined, tucking your hair behind your ears. “You have a fever. Which means you haven’t even been taking your meds, have you?” 

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise at his question, before you averted your gaze in guilt. “No.” 

Dean wanted to be mad at you. Well, truthfully, Dean was mad at you. You’ve been doing seemingly everything you could to prevent yourself from recovering, while Dean was trying as hard as he could to help you. He wanted to yell at you, but more importantly, he just wanted to understand. 

“Why?” he asked gently, softly running his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks. 

“They make me groggy,” you told him.

“You mean they make you sleep,” he corrected, knowing what it was you wouldn’t say. “I don’t understand why you won’t let yourself rest.” 

You shrugged helplessly, feeling smaller than ever under his searching gaze. “I don’ like feelin’ useless.” 

“You’re not useless, baby. You’re sick,” Dean defended. 

“Still,” you said, not having a better argument. “I need t’help.”

“How about we make a deal?” he suggested, fully understanding how it feels to not want to lay around and not help with anything, all while everyone else seemed to scramble around.

“Like?” you wondered, lightly shoving him away so you wouldn’t sneeze on him. 

“Like,” he said, feeling more and more like this was the best idea. “You leave this mess as is, go take your medicine, and lay down with me.” 

“That’s not a deal,” you argued thickly. 

“I didn’t finish!” he said with a laugh. “You do that for me, and that disgustingly cheesy movie you love so much? Not only will I watch it with you from start to finish, but I won’t even make a single joke about it.” 

“But what about-” 

“Sam and I can handle the mess later,” he said with a sigh, already knowing what you would ask. 

“‘kay,” you sniffled. “Then deal.” 

“Good,” he grinned, not giving you a chance to change your mind and scooping you off your feet once more.

He made a stop at the bathroom first, so that he could help you freshen up and do your usual nightly routine. Lord knows he watched you do it enough times to know it step by step, and he was never more grateful for that than right now.

Once that was all taken care of, he took you to your room to get you fully settled for the night. He gently peeled off your lounge clothes to slip one of his clean sweatshirts over your head before tucking you into bed. He grabbed you a glass of water so you could take your medicine. He hunted down extra blankets to keep by the bed in case you got cold. He settled in beside you, setting up the movie as you nestled against his chest. 

It was barely even twenty minutes in by the time you were sleeping soundly in his arms. Dean smiled to himself, carefully landing a kiss on the top of your head as he carried on with the movie. 

He started to doze off about halfway through, and he knew in his heart that if this was the deal he’d have to make every night while you recovered, he’d gladly do so. There was definitely no shortage of these cheesy movies you loved, and there was nothing in the universe that mattered to him more than you and your wellbeing. 

Besides, even though he’d never admit, these romcoms you liked really weren’t half bad. 

taglist: @roseblue373, @redmaro86, @snowayumi, @iluvdeanwinchester, @winharry, @star-yawnznn, @jc-winchester

if you'd like to be added or removed from this list, please let me know!

(sorry for the double tag on this y'all, i'm stupid af lol)

[tojisun]

im shaking in need my god pop star f!reader x hockey player price oh god oh god

EXCLUSIVE: john price (2), goalie for the specgru and a nominee for this year’s vezina, seen holding hands with a budding pop star of the era, five years his junior.

both are seen dining together and walking around downtown after this night's victorious game against the florida shadows. the two seemed to be engrossed in their conversation and are happy with each other.

it is important to note that price had stated two years ago that he was taking himself out of the dating market after divorce with now ex-beau martha castillo, his wife of four years. is he rescinding his statement? when was this relationship formed? did… (subscribe to suns net to read more)

"jesus," john rumbles, his words muffled behind his palm as he sags in his chair. he passes the tablet back to laswell, their manager, and refuses to make eye contact with anyone else in the group.

the team were the first to call him since the incident, the incessant ringing rousing him from his peaceful dream. he stretched his arm out to pluck his phone from the nightstand, careful not to jostle you awake.

in the end, his efforts were futile because your own team reached out to you. unlike the specgru's management team, yours were more prepared for the fiasco, sending threads of emails full of instructions how to deal with the situation.

it's not necessarily a scandal, not with how there were more people reacting in favour of the relationship, but john had always been a private person and he is just not used to how his relationship with you ended up being public just overnight.

it's not your fault, no matter how many times you've told him so. he knew what he was getting into when he pursued you. he told his team, their PR department, and even his parents about what might change. even martha was given a lengthy call, the two of them making arrangements how martha and her new wife could possibly avoid being pulled into the spotlight.

so really, everything's fine. it really is. it's just that you've been ignoring his calls since this all started, running out of his flat with a yelled, "be back!", only to disappear for hours. john is worried.

"lassie’s probably doing work. damage control an' all that—you know how it is in the bizz," johnny says, consoling.

"do you know how the 'bizz' even works, 'tavish?" kyle pipes in.

john hears a choked sound, then an abrupt yelp, before scuffling fills his ears.

great. now his team’s tussling.

“out,” kate’s voice pierces through his thoughts. “you all, out. you’re distracting.”

“but missus!” johnny whines, but he doesn’t get to say any more and john looks up, wanting to see how terrifying kate must have looked like to shut johnny up.

oh, yeah, he thinks. that'd put the fear of god in anyone, alright.

he watches as the team shuffles out, all of them sending him comforting smiles, before he’s left alone with kate and alex. kate sits in front of him. “run it by me again, john. where did she tell you she’d be?"

john licks the back of his teeth, hesitating, but before he can respond, his phone rings. three chirps pass when john was finally able to reach for it, ignoring the bewildered look that alex is giving him—kate, it seems, is not even shocked by how agile john is when it comes to you.

"hello?" he murmurs, turning away from his managers in lieu of privacy. from the reflection of the window, he sees alex look away too, in pretense with john, while kate continues to stare, scrutinizing.

"hi, baby," you chirp with a giggle as if you were not radio silent for four whole hours; the afternoon is about to swell at its peak, the summer sun sweltering from every corner of the city. "i missed you lots."

and just like that, john feels himself relaxing. his shoulders sag in the newfound comfort wafting from within his chest, his bruised lips—he didn't even know he had been biting them in his worry—slipping between his teeth, and his forehead easing from all his frowning.

john feels like he's won another game; like they've defeated the shadows and claimed the cup for themselves already.

"s'alright," he says, a touch softer. "all is well f'r you?"

"all is well," you reply, voice curling like you’re smiling. "i'm gonna do somethin' soon so all i ask is that you trust me, okay?"

"of course," john instantly replies before his mind could even comprehend what you just said. "wait what-"

"okay then. bye!"

the line drops just like that.

"oh god," kate hisses from behind john. john can't quite say he mirrors the sentiment because anything you do is good. everything that you are is bright.

he would trust you with a goal, if he could—you have his heart already, after all.

.

"holy shit!" mactavish shrieks before a phone is shoved underneath john's face.

he goes cross-eyed, blinded by the blue light for a minute, before he is finally able to push johnny's hand away. he plucks the phone from his friend, grunting when the rest of the squad flank him, heads butting his own as they try to get a glimpse of what was on mactavish's phone.

simon begins to laugh while kyle repeats johnny's words.

john can't blame them. holy shit indeed.

it was a new post from you, in instagram. it was a picture he remembers you asking him to take for you from the night before, all coy as you danced in front of him, both of you ignoring the obvious tent underneath his sweats.

"i want a keepsake," you murmured while batting your eyelashes. "please?"

"it's all yours, if you want," john remembers replying, all parched with his need.

"no," you said with a giggle. "a picture's enough."

"okay," he had said with a croak, his eyes blown wide as desire bloats from the pit of his belly.

so here it is now, posted for everyone's eyes in your account, the product of your seduction—you, sitting on the back your legs, stretching out on the bed, clothed in nothing but his jersey for a top—the bold and white-coloured 2 almost covers your whole back—and a black bikini for a bottom.

his eyes flit to the caption: comfy in his shirt. #letsgospecgru

"holy shit," john rasps out loud this time, his need growing teeth.

keller bursts into the locker room. “your turn to post with her merch.” he throws something at john and it is only his reflexes that allows him to catch it with his hands.

he looks at it—it’s a cream jumper sold during the release of your new album. the material is soft, the embroidery so smooth. the logo, even, is beautiful.

say less, he thought, already slipping out of his practice shirt and into the jumper.

.

[image]

pricejhn2: her number one fan #newalbum