#but basically her life is going great and with this great life she apparently doesn’t want to talk to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zepskies · 1 year ago

Text

Smoke Eater - Part 13

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: For those who didn't catch my announcement on Monday, I released Part 12 earlier this week! Now, on to a confrontation I think a lot of you have been waiting for...

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,200 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Attempted sexual assault. Protective Dean, angst, hurt/comfort.

Part 13: “Boiling Point”

Usually, Christmas was your absolute favorite time of the year.

This holiday was a baker’s dream, and you and your grandmother used to volunteer at the church bake sale every Christmas Eve. Grandpa George had done his best to help you in the years after she died…but you just didn’t have it in you this year.

You considered it an accomplishment that you pulled down some of the decorations from the attic, putting them up around your house, and buying a little four-foot tree (also hauling it into the house yourself). However, you knew that you wouldn’t be alone on Christmas Day, at least.

Sam and Dean had already invited you over to spend it with them. You would have the chance to get to know Eileen better, and you would even get to meet the famous John Winchester…

But you still had one reason to dread the end of the month.

Nick Savage threw a Christmas party every year. It was equal parts celebration and networking, and as a top performer of the sales division, you were expected to come.

The problem was, this time the party was going to be held at his house.

“You can’t just not go?” Andréa asked, shortly before taking a massive bite of her burrito. The two of you were grabbing dinner together after another long day at the office, followed by a movie later.

You’d realized just how much you had missed your best friend.

“Yeah, that’ll be great for me. Josh will get to chat up the whole team and get them clamoring to kiss his dick. Nick will give him the Sales Manager position just to spite me,” you said, while picking at your taco salad. “He keeps pitting us against each other for his own enjoyment, but I swear to God he harps on me the most.”

Andréa frowned. “Are you sure Nick just doesn’t have a thing for you? It sounds like he’s a little boy, picking on a girl he likes.”

You pursed your lips. She still didn’t know the full extent on your boss’s thing with you. You hadn’t told her about the last time Nick cornered you in his office, dangled a promotion in front of you, and basically gave you an ultimatum: sleep with him, or don’t move up in the company.

You hadn’t told anyone, for that matter.

You were just trying to figure out how to not get fired, while still getting compensated for your hard work. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently, it was.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what he thinks about me,” you said vehemently.

It earned your friend’s gaze, and her raised eyebrows.

“Whoa,” she chuckled. “Easy there, Miss Congeniality. That’ll be sure to earn you the promotion.”

“No, really,” you said. You stabbed into your salad with a fork. “I’m so fucking sick and tired of having to tap dance my entire work life around him. He’s a goddamn child who thinks he can have whatever he wants just because Daddy gave him his own little kingdom!”

Andréa eyed you more with concern. Her hand reached for your arm. Meanwhile, you were forcing slower breaths through your nose.

“You okay?” she asked. “I don’t like the ‘crazy town’ look in your eyes right now.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “Just hangry, I guess.”

You took another bite of your food. Andréa gave you a skeptical look, but she let it go for now, with a smirk.

“Yeah, well. Eat a Snickers, bitch. I don’t need you snapping on me again,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but you had to laugh a little. You shoved at her shoulder.

She gripped her own arm in fake panic. “Someone call the cops! This crazy woman just punched me out over a salad!”

You tried to shush her, even though you were giggling. Your head swiveled around in the restaurant, giving apologetic eyes to the people around you.

“Although, $20 for a few sprigs of romaine lettuce and a sliver of chicken? That’s worth punching somebody the fuck out,” she said, throwing down her napkin. “Let’s never come here again.”

“Agreed,” you nodded. “I don’t think they’ll let us back here anyway.”

A few days later, you didn’t want to admit you were stressing out over this night.

“Have I said thank you? Because I mean it. Thank you for taking time off for this,” you said, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in Dean’s blazer.

He looked good in black. It was classic, and the new suit was smart without being “too much” for him. (Sam had taken him to his “suit guy,” as Dean called it.)

Dean grabbed your arms to stop your slightly flustered hands. He smirked down at you as his eyes once again took in your dark red dress. It was simple and sleeveless, but elegant, falling just above the knee. Of course, you had to be wearing the tallest pair of black heels he’d ever seen.

“It’s no sacrifice, believe me,” he replied.

You smiled, but he noticed something behind your eyes.

“You okay?” he asked. “Seems like you don’t really want to go to this thing.”

“I don’t,” you admitted on a sigh. “But my boss will know if I’m not there…I told you about the open Sales Manager position, right?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Dean nodded. His smile slid into a frown as he watched you bustle around your room, looking for your purse while you smoothed out the soft waves you’d managed to style your hair in, checking your eyeliner and lipstick too in the mirror.

“As usual, it’s down to me and Josh,” you said. “If I keep my numbers up and use tonight to network with my own team, get the rest of the guys on my side, maybe Nick will see that I’m the right choice.”

Dean came up behind you, resting a hand on your lower back.

“And this manager job…that’s what you want?” he asked.

You turned to him with a questioning look. “Well, yeah. I’ve been working here for five years, busting my ass.”

“And I got no doubt that you’re good at what you do,” Dean said. “But you do know, there hasn’t been a day since I met you that you didn’t have something crap to say about that job, and those people you work with.”

You frowned, and you thought about what he was saying. Sure, you complained about Nick, but did you really talk that much shit about your job?

“Everyone has things they don’t like about their work,” you reasoned. “Even you have your bad days.”

Though he tended to keep those days to himself, you knew when he’d had a tough call at the firehouse. You’d been trying your best to be a listening ear if he needed it, or if not, at least a soothing presence. It was more often the latter with Dean.

He acknowledged your point with a nod. “Okay, fair enough. I don’t know…I just think you’re wasting your talent.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, you’re like…an artist. It’s nothing me, or Sam, or Andréa, or anybody in your life hasn’t told you before,” said Dean. “You went to school to do your dream. And I know life happened. But I also know that when I walk into the firehouse, it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. Can you say that when you walk into the Savage building?”

You took in a breath. You understood what he was saying, but as much as you wanted to indulge the fantasy of owning your own business, being your own boss, creating your own menu, and giving people quality baked goods…you had to live in reality here.

Opening a brick-and-mortar business was expensive. And most restaurants, even bakeries, weren’t profitable for at least one to three years. You still had plenty of bills, and not even a car since the accident.

“I’ve invested too much time here to quit, Dean,” you said.

The conversation died there, but it left something new and awkward between you two. You tried to put it out of your mind while he drove you both over to the “filthy fucking rich” side of town, through a massive gate, and into a wide parking lot that had a valet driver waiting. Nick’s ridiculous house was a monument to trust fund kids everywhere.

Dean reluctantly handed over the keys to the Impala.

“No donuts in the parking lot.” He eyed the 20-something-year-old valet with all due scrutiny. “Trust me, I’ll know.”

You smirked and slipped your arm around his to tug him up the steps, toward the large double doors of the house.

“Come on, Rambo. Baby’ll be fine without you.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean quipped back. Still, he moved his arm out of yours, just to wrap it around your waist and pull you against his side. His lips pressed against your cheek.

“You look sexy as hell,” he said lowly near your ear. “Did I forget to mention that?”

“No.” Your smile deepened. “But doesn’t hurt to mention again. I might just have to reward my boyfriend for humoring me tonight, getting all dapper himself.”

You and Dean made it up to the porch and you knocked on the door. He shot you a raised brow as his lips tugged upwards.

“Oh, yeah? We talkin’ lace or satin?” he asked. His lips brushed your temple.

You pretended to think. “Little of both, actually. It’s new. And it’s red…and I might just be wearing it right now.”

Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. His gaze subtly dragged over your every curve, as if he had x-ray vision to spy through your dress. You maintained an enigmatic smile.

“Oh, you’re diabolical,” he muttered. His hand moved down to playfully squeeze your ass. You had to bite your lip to stifle the sound you made, as that’s when the doors finally began to swing open.

Dean’s hand moved up a respectable few inches, resting on your waist.

You both smiled and greeted the attendant who let you into the house.

A quick text let you know that Benny and Andréa were already here, each holding a flute of champagne. You and Dean met up with them in the huge living room space (which might has well have been a grand hall, for how large it was).

It held 50 people easily, but the party was already spanning the entire house, of at least two stories. It made your house look like a modest Barbie Dream home, without the pool attachment.

And Nick Savage was at the center of it all, greeting each guest and their “plus ones.”

When he spotted your group, he smoothly excused himself from the conversation with Josh and his wife, and headed over to you.

“Incomiiing,” Andréa quietly sing-songed. She sipped her champagne.

You steeled yourself, and you did your best to give a polite smile when Nick arrived with a pleasant “Merry Christmas.” You forced yourself to remain still when his hand fell on your arm, and he reached out to shake Dean’s hand in greeting, followed by Andréa and Benny.

“Welcome, you guys,” he said, giving you a smile that hid just a hint of a smirk. “Justin let you know where everything is, right? Lotsa drinks, the good stuff, I promise. Plenty of food, hot chocolate and eggnog fountains, if that’s your thing. And a hell of a lot more out back by the pool.”

“Great, thank you,” you nodded politely.

“All right! Let’s party,” Nick fist-pumped in the air. He pointed towards you and Dean. “You need a drink in your hand, stat.”

“I’m fine for now. Going to wait until I have something to eat first,” you replied. If you were going to get a glass of wine, it wouldn’t be one that Nick handed to you.

He pouted a little, but he looked at Dean next. “How about you, big guy? What you drinkin’?”

Dean shot you a glance, but before he could respond, Nick interrupted.

“You look like a whiskey guy. Am I right?” he asked.

Dean inclined his head. “Guilty.”

“Perfect. See? I’ve got an instinct for people,” Nick said, tossing you a wink as he headed for the nearby bar. “I’ll be back. You crazy kids relax and have fun.”

You had to admit, he knew how to turn on the charm when he had to. But who the hell said crazy kids under the age of 45?

“He’s uh…got pep,” Benny remarked.

Andréa snorted and tapped her glass. “He’s a few shots in already.”

“You think?” Dean asked.

You nodded in agreement, rolling your eyes. If there was one thing you could count on, it was for Nick Savage to be drinking.

“He knows how to act when everyone’s watching,” you said.

You looked up at the high-vaulted ceilings and expensive artwork on the walls, not noticing how Dean glanced at you with the edge of a frown.

At the very least, the food was excellent. It was served in a large back room that served as a banquet hall, meant for entertaining.

There you and Dean actually had a good time, with you sipping on red wine and Dean on a glass of the “good stuff,” all while playing cards with Andréa and Benny and a few of your coworkers on the sales team.

“I just can’t believe Adam quit, to join our main competitor, no less,” said Marv. “I had absolutely no idea he was thinking of leaving.”

He was the team gossip. He prided himself on knowing every coming and going on the sales floor, which confounded you, since Marv was also a bit of a hermit. He either kept to his office like it was a bomb shelter, or you could catch him in the break lounge grabbing yet another coffee, all the while keeping his ear perked up for scraps of conversation.

“Yeah, you did, Marv,” you replied with a smirk. “You’re the one who saw Adam’s resignation letter on his own desk.”

He hadn’t even handed said letter to Nick yet.

“Well, I knew it then, obviously,” Marv said, with his hands open wide. “It leaves us without a manager…which I think, not for long.”

His eyes met yours knowingly.

You smiled. “We’ll see. I think Josh is playing kiss-ass tonight.”

You turned your head and spotted Nick and Josh taking shots of tequila together at the bar, with the latter wincing at the burn with a lime peel in his mouth. Josh’s wife was sitting off to the side, rolling her eyes.

Your gaze focused on your boss for a moment. You shook your head at the state of him, with a loose tie and the top buttons undone on his shirt, laughing boisterously and egging Josh on.

Fucking frat bros.

“That’s your boss, huh?” Benny remarked.

“In all his Cuervo-stained glory,” Marv replied. He shook his head as well.

It made you realize something.

As nice a time as you’d been having, for about an hour at most, your good mood soured the moment you were reminded of the office politics. Of Josh and Nick and everything in between. Was this really what you wanted for the rest of your career?

The rest of your life?

Maybe Dean was right, you thought. You knew you were good at your job. You knew you were fortunate to even have a job that paid your bills…but maybe “being good” wasn’t enough for you.

If there was one thing you’d learned from your grandfather’s death, it was that peace was precarious. And sacrificing too many parts of yourself, for money, wasn’t a fulfilling life or even a happy one.

You wanted to be happy. You also wanted peace.

So you leaned over and laid a hand on Dean’s, which rested on the round table.

“Hey,” you whispered.

His head bowed near yours. “Hmm?”

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked. He raised his brows at you.

“Really? I thought you needed to stay and schmooze with your people,” he replied.

You smiled and drew your thumb across the inside of his wrist. “I think I’m done.”

Dean looked a bit confused. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. And you brushed your lips against the corner of his mouth. “You were right. It’s not worth it.”

A flicker of a smile began to tug at his lips, but his brows drew together.

“Hey. Are you sure?” he asked. “Don’t bow out just because of me—”

Your hand tightened on his wrist.

“No, baby. It’s me. My choice,” you said. “Let me just use the restroom real quick, and we can go.”

Dean nodded, and you stood.

“What, are you leaving?” Andréa asked. She was tucked into Benny’s side with a piece of red velvet cake poised on her fork. “You didn’t even finish your cake!”

You laughed. Turning down dessert was a big deal for you, but you’d live.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I just need to call it a night, but I’ll be back in a sec to say goodbye. Hold on.”

Andréa blew out a breath as you walked away from the table.

“She’s gonna miss the White Elephant gift exchange. Last year, someone got a 60” smart TV,” she said.

Benny whistled.

“I wouldn’t mind an upgrade,” he said. He shot Dean a glance. “What do you think the guys would do if we showed up with something like that to the station?”

Dean scoffed. “I think the Chief would have a damn conniption.”

Bobby was old-school. He thought they had enough distractions from the job as it was.

“Probably right,” Benny chuckled.

Andréa smiled in amusement. But her eyes clocked the way Nick glanced your way as you walked by, down the hall and to the right. She sipped at her glass of pinot grigio to wash down the rich cake.

Still, she discreetly watched the man down another shot before he took his leave of the bar. He laughed at something Josh said and waved him off.

She gave Nick credit for not stumbling on his feet, and only swaying slightly on the same path you took down the hall. It didn’t mean he was following you, necessarily. This house was like a small Smithsonian. And yet, something niggled in the back of her mind.

Andréa remembered how you’d acted at dinner the other day when talking about Nick. And how drained you’d seemed lately when she saw you after work. She’d thought that was just about finding your way after George’s death…

Marv distracted her with a question as Dean and Benny continued to talk, and she answered him with her usual charm. But she kept one eye on the hallway, waiting for you to come back.

She made it about another minute before she turned to Benny and Dean, leaning in close.

“Hey, Dean,” she said. “Maybe you want to check on her? She’s taking a while.”

Dean didn’t look concerned as he checked his watch. It hadn’t been all that long, but he still pulled out his phone to text you.

“She left her purse here,” Andréa said. She started to get up out of her seat. “I’m just gonna go see if she’s okay.”

Benny grabbed her hand before she left the table.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said, but she met Dean’s confused gaze. “Okay, look. I’ve been noticing some things with her recently. I have no evidence except for how well I know that woman, but something’s off with her. It happens every time she talks about that asshole Nick.”

Dean’s brows furrowed as he tried to read between the lines.

“What’re you saying exactly?” he asked.

Andréa let out a breath. “I’m saying, I’ve got a bad feeling.”

You hummed as you washed your hands in the bathroom. Wine runs right through me. I should know better.

You’d also been trying to quell your anxieties and just get through the night. But you realized now that there was no kind of calm like the peace you had, now that you knew what you needed to do. Starting tomorrow, you were going to start looking for a new job.

A knock at the door made you jolt slightly.

“Someone’s in here!” you called without looking over your shoulder. You finished washing your hands and dried them on the hand towel hanging on a silver wall rack.

The door cracked open, but before you could protest, a man stumbled in.

Of fucking course it was Nick Savage.

“Excuse me?!” you breathed in shock. You watched with wide eyes as he pushed the door closed and seemed to take notice of you for the first time. He smirked.

“Oh, hey,” he said. Somehow, he was only slurring a little. He straightened his white blazer. The black satin shirt he wore was wrinkled and he smelled heavily of tequila, and that was with a couple of feet of distance between you two.

Your shock finally melted into a glare. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Gotta take a leak. It’s my house after all,” he shrugged, leaning a hand on the wall closest to the door for balance.

You shook your head, and with a huff, you tried to get by him.

His hand wrapped around your arm. “Hey, we didn’t get a chance to catch up tonight.”

You shoved his hand off of you.

“Don’t you ever in your life touch me again,” you warned him. Your eyes were as hard as your voice. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet—no. In the whole damn universe who sickens me more than you, Nick Savage.”

Nick straightened a little, frowning at you. Whatever he saw in your gaze, he didn’t seem to like the challenge. When you reached for the doorknob again, he grabbed your arm and shoved you hard into the nearest wall.

You gasped as the air rushed out of your lungs. Before you even realized what was happening, you felt his clammy hands on your bare shoulders, his hot alcoholic breath on your face. You raised your hands in defense, pushing against his chest.

He was taller and stronger and pinned you harder against the wall, with his knee shoving its way between your legs. You stared up with wide eyes of fear, and his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your scream.

Your nails bit into his arm and wrist, trying to peel back his sweaty hand, just an inch to free your voice and let you breathe. To your left you heard the door bang open.

Please—

And the hand was peeled away entirely.

You could only blink and watch as Dean barreled through, grabbing Nick and bodily hurling him away. Nick opened his mouth to spout something angrily, but Dean continued to stalk forward and grab the man again.

Nick attempted a lazy swing at Dean’s head, but he bat it away. His fist connected roughly with Nick’s face, snapping his head back with a cry.

It was almost too fast for you to track what was happening right in front of you, but Dean dragged the drunkard the rest of the way across the bathroom, even over the tub, and slammed him against the beige tile so hard that it knocked a few of them loose. Nick’s head smacked audibly against them and he groaned at the impact.

The men were around the same height, but Dean was honed by years of firefighting and fueled by rage. One hand gripped high on Nick’s collar, while his arm pressed against the man’s chest. Then into his throat.

“Give me a reason,” Dean said, in a voice much calmer than he felt. Behind his eyes was wildfire.

“What?” Nick choked.

You finally broke through enough of your shock to know you had to do something.

“Dean!” you uttered. You cautiously went to him, but he glanced at you over his shoulder in warning.

“Stay there,” he told you firmly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, even though your voice shook. “Let’s just go.”

Despite the blood dripping down from his likely bruised nose, Nick chortled a laugh. It earned Dean’s slow head turn, returning his attention to the decision at hand. His fist tightened in Nick’s shirt.

“You heard me,” Dean said. His voice was laced with steel. “I said give me a reason not to break your miserable fucking neck.”

“Dean,” you gasped.

“Not sure that’s a good idea, fireman,” Nick slurred. “I clearly don’t have all my wits about me right now. Can’t be held lia…li-ble for my actions, now can I? I’ll have your badge by end of the week.”

You let out a harsh breath and finally went to Dean. You laid a hand on his back. Every muscle was tense and straining under his white dress shirt.

“Dean,” you pressed. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”

Nick smirked lazily in Dean’s face. It was the look of a man who was used to getting his way.

“I’d listen to her,” he said, with a mocking glint in his eyes. “Or I could just fire her on Monday. Make it easy on myself.”

Dean seethed. His forearm slowly rolled harder into the man’s neck, pressing on his windpipe. The sounds of choked air were satisfying.

“Yeah, or I’ll have the police down here in ten minutes or less,” said Dean. “I’ll clue you in on a little something. My dad’s a cop. I’ll reckon he’ll be happy to put a fucking douchebag like you in the can with the real charmers.”

Dean gave a mocking glance to Nick’s silk shirt, his gold pinky ring and loafers.

“How long do you think it’ll take for one of ‘em to make you their little bitch?” Dean said.

Nick glared back at him, with a frisson of intimidation behind his eyes. He glanced at you over his shoulder. Dean noticed and tightened his hold.

“Don’t you look at her, you piece of shit!” he warned. His voice was low and dangerous. “Make your choice. You gonna come down to the station easy, or difficult? Please say difficult.”

Nick held up placating hands. He shifted uncomfortably against the wall; one foot was planted on the ground while the other was in the tub. The shower curtain was half off its hooks.

Dean eased up enough for Nick to take a breath.

“Okay, let’s say we do that,” he said, with a cough. “I’ll get bail. Then I’ll fucking walk, ‘cause I own this town.”

“You mean your dad does,” you snapped.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Same name, same shit, sweetheart.”

Dean grit his teeth and tightened his grip again in warning. You wrapped your hand around his arm, but he didn’t budge.

Nick met his eyes.

“How about this. Get your greasy fucking hands off me, and we’ll call tonight a wash,” he proposed. “No foul, we all take our balls and go home.”

He then snorted at his own joke. “Balls…”

Dean tilted his head, but didn’t move a muscle. “Or?”

Once again, Nick smirked.

“I’ll report you to your boss for assaulting me in my own house. And uh, she’ll be fired, obviously.” He shrugged. “By the time my lawyers get done with her, she won’t be able to sling lattes at Starbucks.”

Dean’s face was stony, tight with outrage. His whole body was coiled like a spring as every cell in his body fought against ripping this man apart.

But he still felt your hands around his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Dean, don’t. He’s not worth your career. Please,” you begged.

The bathroom door pushed open again, and he heard Benny’s voice.

“Hey, brother.” He dropped a careful hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Come on, now. You got him. Ease up now.”

Dean’s teeth ground together. He looked down, and his stare bored into Nick’s. Dean pressed his forearm into the other man’s throat again, enough to almost feel the give as the man struggled for breath.

“Remember how that feels,” Dean said icily. “20579, Dean Winchester. The next time you want to threaten my badge, that’s my number.”

Nick’s eyes widened slightly. At the time, Dean took it as fear. But really, it was recognition.

Winchester, Nick thought.

Dean then leaned in closer, so only Nick would hear his next lowered words.

“First and last warning,” Dean said. “If you touch her again. If I hear anything more about you giving her a hard time, not a dime in the world is gonna save you from me.”

When Dean finally pulled his arm away and let go, Nick’s face was red and spluttering as he coughed and slumped into the bathtub.

Dean turned on his heel in anger and disgust. Andréa was supporting you with her arm around yours, but she released you to let Dean take over. You stared up at him with tearful eyes, and you reached for his hand.

He took it with his left, holding you steady. He then wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you out of the bathroom.

The air was tense and silent inside the Impala. It was a long drive back to your house, and Dean hadn’t looked at you once in 20 minutes. His gaze was firmly on the road. He hadn’t even turned on the radio.

You had his suit jacket draped around your frame, but your insides still felt cold. You glanced over at him and stared at his profile for a moment, wishing you knew what to say to break the silence. To reassure him that you were fine. (Even though it would've been a lie.)

He felt your stare and turned his head towards you.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked. His voice was gruff. “Andréa said she’s been noticing something off about you for a while.”

Your lips pressed together. “Can this part wait until we get home…please?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, but he turned back to the road ahead.

The car was silent for the rest of the hour.

It was a relief to turn the key into the door lock and step through the threshold of your house. Dean followed you inside and tossed his wallet and car keys on the side table by the door.

Somehow he always managed to miss the little basket you put there for exactly those things, but you weren’t about to remind him.

You slipped off your heels and went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, to steady yourself. Dean leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He didn’t say anything, but you still felt his eyes on you.

With a sigh, you turned and met his gaze.

“Just tell me,” he said. “How long?”

You took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“It started before I even met you, Dean.”

His brows raised high. He tilted his head at you as incredulous anger tightened his face.

“What?” he said. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You shook your head and grabbed his arm. “Okay, come here.”

You led him into the living room and sat beside him on the couch. You explained that it started small, with compliments on your clothes, your hair. Then it was lingering looks, “innocent” brushes of his hand, touching your arm, your shoulder.

When you’d tried to put distance between you and Nick, the drunken shenanigans began. The comments grew heinous and sickening, and so did his threats.

And nothing you did worked. Not distance and professionalism. Not refusing his advances outright. Not threatening to go to HR.

All while you spoke, Dean was quiet, but on edge. You saw it in how he gripped his knee, with his other hand fisted against his mouth, elbow resting on his thigh.

But the hardest part of the conversation came when you told Dean about the day of the car accident—how Nick had demanded you come to his office and gave you a sickening ultimatum.

At that, Dean could no longer remain still. He got up and started to pace across the living room. He was a man of action, you knew, and his reaction was almost everything you’d feared.

I should've told him, you thought. You knew.

Although you now felt relieved, even in your guilt, you also knew this next part wasn’t going to be fun either. Because Dean finally erupted.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked.

Briefly, you closed your eyes. “No.”

“Why? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” His hand buried itself in his hair as his jaw clenched. Even if your friend Andréa hadn’t known, she’d still seen enough to suspect something. It completely blew his mind, in the worst of ways.

“Jesus Christ!” he shook his head. “Why am I always the last one to know when something’s going on with you?”

Tears watered in your eyes as you looked up at him. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.

“I mean, really. What are we doing here, huh?” he exclaimed, his hands open wide. “Honestly, tell me. Because if you can’t trust me, then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Your eyes widened, a trill of panic lacing down your spine. You stood up and went to him.

“Dean, please, it wasn’t about that,” you said. You implored him with your eyes to understand. “I wanted to tell someone…God, you don’t know how bad I wanted to tell you. But I knew how you’d react. Just like this. I didn’t want to make the situation worse!”

He frowned deeply. “You didn’t want help? You didn’t want me to protect you?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you snapped. But then, you sucked in a shaking breath, trying to calm yourself. You got closer and rested a hand against his chest.

“Of course I’m grateful that you protected me. Dean, I love you for it.”

You grasped the ends of his jacket with both hands. All you really wanted to do was bury yourself in his warmth and sleep for the next ten years. You were still raw and frayed inside.

Dean looked down at you, and his heart clenched. He couldn’t help but hold you back.��His arms wound around your lower back as he pulled you against him. His chin rested above your head, and you sighed in relief.

“I thought I could handle it,” you confessed, in a smaller voice. “I worked so damn hard…I wanted to fight for my job. But Nick knew I didn’t have the money or the resources to fight back for real if I reported him, or even if I sued him. And before tonight, I didn’t have enough to take to the police.”

Dean pulled away just enough to see your face. He grasped your arms, gentle but firm.

“I’ll take you to the station right now,” he said. “My dad can help you. Hell, Sam can help you.”

You bit your lip and shook your head.

“You heard him, Dean. With his money and connections, he’ll get off. And then he’ll make both of our lives hell,” you said. “He’ll go after your badge—”

“He can fucking try,” he snapped.

“Stop, okay? I don’t want that,” you pleaded.

A sharp breath escaped through his nose, and he let you go.

“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?” he said. “How can I help you if you won’t let me?”

He was beside himself with frustration, and even hurt. You knew it in the way he tried to walk away from you, but you reached for his arm to stop him, with tears burning in your eyes. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t want his support. That you didn’t trust him.

Because that couldn’t have been any farther from the truth.

“I’m sorry!” Your tears finally escaped, trailing down your cheeks. You tugged him back towards you, earning his furrowed glance. “I was…scared. I…I didn’t know what to do. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with it at all.”

The longer Dean looked at your face, the more he crumbled.

Once again, he turned to gather you back into his arms. And there your tears fell in earnest. Your body trembled with quiet sobs, and he held you tighter. His heart broke a little more as his hand soothed over your hair. He shushed you more gently, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, let alone for this damn long,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward for a moment as he mentally kicked himself. You didn’t deserve this, or his anger either.

He just couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed any signs, like Andréa had. All these months… It threatened to drive him up a fucking wall.

“You’re safe, and I’ve got you,” he said, continuing to hold you securely against him. “We’ll handle this, like everything else.”

After a moment, you nodded, letting out another shaky breath. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into his chest.

You already knew you must’ve looked a state, after the night you’d had, but you didn’t truly realize it until you were looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Mascara and lipstick smudged, hair disheveled, tears staining your cheeks.

Ugh. You hastily scrubbed your face clean with makeup wipes. Then you tamed your hair, brushing through the frizz and calming it back into relative normalcy.

You went for the zipper of your dress next, but you couldn’t get it down all the way. You turned to look over your shoulder.

“Dean,” you called.

He was in your room, rifling through his bag to grab the clothes he’d brought to sleep in.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Come ‘ere a sec?”

He obliged you, drawing into the bathroom. His white dress shirt was only half unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up. You met his eyes in the mirror.

“Can you unzip me?” you asked.

Dean looked down where your hands were holding both sides of the zipper on your dress. He took one side from you and unzipped it the rest of the way, stopping at the small of your back. He caught sight of the red, sheer lingerie underneath.

Noticing the way he paused, you smiled slightly. You turned toward him and tugged the dress down the rest of the way, so he could see the rest of the ensemble. It was a simple corset-style nightie, but true to your word, the lace was paired with satin trim lines.

Your hands ran up his sternum and undid the last buttons on his shirt. You grasped near his collar and leaned up on your toes for a slow kiss. Dean unconsciously held you to him by your shoulders, his eyes closing at the feel of you.

But when they next opened, he caught sight of the bruise on your shoulder. It was about the size of a thumbprint.

His throat tightened. After a moment, he parted from you, but he didn’t continue where you left off. You looked up at him in confusion.

“Baby?” you asked.

Dean shook his head. He couldn’t answer you; couldn’t even articulate what the hell was in his head. So he just turned and went back into the room for his change of clothes. It left you frowning, bereft, and worried.

You changed into an old shirt and some shorts before you got into bed. You slipped under the covers and watched Dean. He sat with his back to you as he unclipped his watch and set it down on the nightstand. By now he’d changed into his faded, gray Lawrence Fire Department shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Your throat constricted with emotion, namely with anxiety.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.

Dean paused. He glanced back at you, saw you laying there with a hand gripped into the covers. His brows furrowed when he saw your shining tears.

He turned and got into bed with you. He slid his arm under your head and wordlessly encouraged you to come closer. His free hand soothed across your arm.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said at last. But he was still upset, and deeply unsettled. As the night replayed in his mind, he knew that at the root of his fury, there was fear.

“I just keep thinking,” he said. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t called out of work tonight.”

You looked down at that. You laid a hand on his chest.

“I wouldn’t have gone to the party,” you said. Though if you were honest with yourself, you probably would’ve thought yourself safe with Benny and Andréa. “I just…I really didn’t think he would try to—”

You tried to take a breath to steady yourself, but it was a tremulous release. The memory flashed behind your eyes, the remnants of panic and fear under your skin.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Dean’s hand was caressing your cheek, brushing away your tears.

“All right, shhh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s over,” he said. Once again, he pulled you into his arms and held you close. Guilt hit him between the ribs for upsetting you all over again. “I promise you’re safe, and I’ve got you.”

You did your best to take in deep breaths, letting them out more steadily. Dean wanted to put the matter to bed for tonight. He really did…but he couldn’t help pressing one last thing.

“Just tell me you’re not going back there on Monday, unless it’s to HR,” he said.

You paused, shook your head a little. You didn’t want to rev him up again, but you knew Nick.

“He doesn’t make idle threats, Dean,” you reminded him. “But there’s a reason why he waited until tonight, at his house. He’s not going to try his luck at the office, where everyone’s watching.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean retorted.

You saw his point, but you almost didn’t want to acknowledge it. You couldn’t afford to quit.

“I still need my job, for now,” you said. “But I will start looking for something else, so I can get out as soon as possible. I promise.”

Dean wasn’t happy. Both of you knew it. You also sensed that he wanted to argue more, but was holding back for now. You appreciated that.

You truly didn’t want to get into it anymore with him. You just wanted to close your eyes and try to forget about tonight, knowing that you’d fail.

Dean still held you, with his hands rubbing up and down your back. His touch and his heartbeat soothed you until you managed to fall asleep.

AN: Dean knows, and it ain't pretty. What did you think of the confrontation? Unfortunately, I'm drawing from real events here (not myself).

Next Time:

The mystery of "Azazel" thickens, Dean deals with another tricky fire, and the reader has a realization of her own...

“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.

“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”

You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.

“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.

“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”

Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?

Keep Reading: PART 14

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Boiling Point #Smoke Eater #Part 13 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #benny lafitte #zepskies writes

459 notes · View notes

choccy-milky · 8 months ago

Text

bruh i need to vent about a rude comment i got on my recent chap and also about clora, cuz its something thats been on my mind for a while now. it has spoilers to my most recent chap tho so im putting it below

so in my most recent chap clora gets hit by the killing curse but thanks to seb sacrificing himself for her, it doesn’t work/she survives. and I got a rly rude comment about how that’s super cringe and that clora is a "shoe horning of every possible manifestation of Mary-Sueism I have ever seen." theyre dropping my fic after almost 500k words bc apparently THAT’S where they draw the line and that "just somehow pulling it out the bag and surviving a killing curse from the power of love. In simpler terms, it’s absolutely cringe worthy" and "forgive me if I rolled an eye at the yet again invincible nature of Clora Clemons-the-one-eighth-Veela-extraordinaire"

BUT LIKE LMAO TELL ME U DIDN’T READ/WATCH HARRY POTTER WITHOUT TELLING ME. that’s literally what happens to harry??but its only cringe when it happens to our "mary-sue" clora? like yeah sure love magic might be a bit cringe but IM LITERALLY JUST PULLING FROM THE SOURCE MATERIAL. of all the things to take issue with in my fic and interpretations, theyre taking issue with something that’s canon BAHAHA.

and since im on the topic of clora being mary sue can I just say I hate the misogyny/internalized misogyny that i've seen some people (NOT A LOT, THANKFULLY) treat her with. like i get it, im not pale and blonde and as conventionally pretty as clora is, but even if I was, is that a reason to hate me?? and does being beautiful and well-liked = mary sue? bc as far as I know, mary sue is a chara who is just naturally amazing at everything and doesnt need to try hard and theyre just inexplicably great for no reason (like mc in the base game BAHHAA) if anything the mary sue in MY fic is seb LMAO (but hes a boy so its ok). like clora has worked hard and studied magic all her life due to being a squib and wanting to make up for not being able to DO it. she isnt good at flying, seb is still better at her than duelling, shes really short sighted when it comes to doing/thinking whats best for others and can be a huge idiot.... and like. the only guys that have even shown interest in clora on a real scale have been seb and leander (and then lawley for blackmail purposes, and also bc he hates seb) so its not like literally everyone is falling over themselves for her?? like her interactions with the main cast of boys (ominis, garreth, amit) theyre all indifferent to her LMAO but still, the fact that shes pretty and guys here and there might look at her and go o shes cute! doesnt make her a mary sue SORRy thats just called being attractive idk its just annoying that ppl automatically see a nice kind beautiful female character without any VISIBLE flaws and go SHES TOO PERFECT!! MARY SUE!! WAH IM JEALOUS! and like I get it bc when I was younger I probs would have been annoyed by clora as well due to my own insecurities and internalized misogyny but hey, how about u just realize that’s ur own problem and your own jealousy, and not a real one HAHAH anyway ive since evolved bc I used to be a ‘not like other girls’ type girl back in highschool. trying to be super tomboy-y bc I thought being feminine was cringe and too basic but now ive embraced it and love girly things and dresses and charas like clora who are still strong and showcase their strengths and weaknesses in subtler ways, and I want to smooch her and make out with her. get behind me clora ill protect you🤺🤺🤺

#choccytalky #finally using that tag #tho its more like CHOCCYRANTY holy this is so long BHAHAHA #also one more thing idk why ppl think its ok to give unsolicited criticism to fanfic writers. like these are stories we're writing for US #and for free like u dont have to rudely declare how unhappy you are with it and that youre stopping. like what do u want me to do #do u want a refund?? BYE!! JUST GO!! like. i also wouldnt want unsolicited criticism or critiques on my visual/drawn art #and ppl understand that. so whys it so hard to understand ppl ALSO dont want it on their writing? both take effort #and giving actual valid criticism is a skill (which is why it was literally a CLASS when i was in uni)#i need a drink #and by that i mean COKE ZERO BABYYYYYYY #AND MORE DRAGONS DOGMA 2

196 notes · View notes

hellish-sunsets · 8 months ago

Note

Hi, so, can I ask for husker x young reader (platonic)? Readers father knocked at the hotels door when reader was a very young girl, 5 or so, saying that he’ll be right back, and left before the door was answered by the hotels owner, Charlie. 11 years have passed and everyone has become like family to reader, mainly husker, who’s basically become like her father. So what if one day readers bio dad comes back (reader doesn’t know he’s her dad) and tries to get himself back into readers life? Husker knows who he is, and doesn’t approve at all. What then?

Too Late

Husk was the one who ended up answering the door. He was the only one in the lobby at the time. He sighed and grumbled, but opened the door regardless, only to met with... a child?

She didn't look to be in the best condition, honestly. She was thin, her hair unkempt, and her clothes flitby and falling apart. She jumped when the door opened, looking up at Husk with big eyes. She looked off in the distance behind herself, then back at him. Tears welled up in her eyes, her face scrunched up as she started to cry.

Husk was not good with kids, but even an idiot knew you were supposed to comfort a crying kid.

He picked her up, glaring at the surroundings to see if he could spot who had left her here, but closing the door when he found nothing. His focus shifted to figuring out what to do with the kid.

He ended up settling her on a couch in the lobby and getting her a glass of water until she had calmed down. Apparently, her father had left her there. Great. He got her a blanket and pillow and watched over her while she slept. He would talk to everyone else in the morning and figure out a more permanent plan.

Well, considering the people who were there, he probably shouldn't have expected much. They all just decided to hold on to her and take care of her themselves. Which worked out mostly, but it left Husk doing the majority of the proper parenting.

It happened so gradually, he almost didn’t even notice that's what happened. And by the time the kid first called him Dad, smiling up at him from her bed, he found he didn't mind.

So, she grew up in the hotel for eleven years, becoming a fixture everyone loved to see.

Then came the day a man walked in.

He walked to Husk at the bar and he could immediately tell something was off. He narrowed his eyes at the man, managing to stifle a growl. Y/N was behind the bar counter as well, now a teenager. She looked weary as well, glancing up from her phone between the man and Husk.

"Can I help you, sir?" Husk asked.

The man went on to say he was looking for someone. Husk's fur stood on end as he heard the man describe how he abandoned his daughter here so casually, like he hadn't even done anything wrong. His wings puffed up and spread out, protectively blocking her from him.

"Any chance she's still here?"

"What exactly are you going to do if I say no, hmm?" Husk asked, crossing his arms. "What do you want with her?"

The man didn't give an answer, just asked again if she was here more sternly, a cross look over his face. Husk refused to answer, and the man only got more angry. There was about to be a fight in that hotel lobby, but you step in. You had to process what was going on first.

You didn't remember anything about your life before the hotel. You vaguely remembered the night you were left here, but Husk had told you how he found you on the hotel porch. You were smart enough to recognize the connections from that story and this man's ramblings.

"Sir, your daughter isn't here. Kindly fuck off before we have to sick our overlord on you."

"The fuck did you just say to me, bitch?"

Husk felt his heart stop as that man growled at her, standing off. He put a hand on your shoulder.

Thankfully, Alastor decided to show up, appearing behind the man through shadows and placing a hand on his shoulder as well.

"I believe you were told to leave."

The man turned with a scowl, but went pale when he saw who was standing behind him, grin stretched painfully wide. He all but ran out of the hotel.

You gave a deep breath, deflating now that he had left.

"Fucking jackass..." you muttered, returning to your stool behind the counter.

"Hey, are you going to be okay?" Husk asked with furrowed brows. You just shrugged.

"It's fine, he left. Besides, I already have a Dad, and he's a fuck ton better than that guy."

Husk smiled and nodded, returning to cleaning his glasses with a new lightness to his steps.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #reader insert #platonic x reader #husk x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin hotel reader insert

160 notes · View notes

just-another-personal-side-blog · 2 months ago

Text

Session 0 - Damian Priest x Tattoo Artist

Part 1 of 6

Rating: T

Beta Reader: @jstarr86

“Trust me Dam, she’s the best at what she does. It doesn’t hurt that I’d trust her with my life. You’ve been going on about finally getting that back piece, there’s no one better.” Rhea practically herded him towards what looked like an absolute hole in the wall, his nerves judged it based on first appearance.

“Most of my art was done by her, I’ve been meaning to introduce Dom as well. You got first dibs of course.” She paused at the door giving him a single raised brow, “You do trust me, don’t you Damian?”

Cornered he let out a sigh, it doesn’t hurt to at least take a look to appease her.

“Fine, after you.”

A bell above the door could just barely be heard over the heavy rock that beat like a pulse within the confines of the lobby. Framed detailed tattoo sketches hung upon the walls, behind the front desk were a collection of awards and licenses to prove this place was legit. Folders full of premade basic bitch designs sat on the coffee table by comfortable leather chairs, Rhea pressed a button at the front. No sound could be heard but in a span of seconds a young woman came out from the back.

“How can I- Oh! Shit! Rhea! Hey girl! Why didn’t you give me a heads up that you were coming?” Priest looked up from one of the framed pieces he was admiring. Apparently the new arrival hadn’t noticed him from the angle he was standing, not something he was used to given his size. He took a moment to admire the person before him…

Purple faux hawk with an under-fade, full tattoo sleeves on both arms, legs, and back, several piercings both visible and one not, brilliant blue eyes with some intense metallic goth eye makeup and a stunning smile. A pair of fake leather leggings with lace ups on the outside of the legs, a fishnet crop top under a Beetlejuice tank top, tying it all together was a basic durable black dog collar and a pair of Demonia knee length boots.Unlike the blonde Barbie she was finishing up, Rhea’s friend wasn’t stick skinny. She was probably a good size 9 or 10, there was some plump flesh but it appeared to have some sturdy muscle underneath. A full pair of breasts accentuated beautifully with the fishnet, and hips perfect to dig fingers into.

“I brought a friend that I thought you might like meeting, he’s been talking about wanting a new big tat for awhile now. So I told him there's only one person I’d trust with that.” After a moment the girl turned to look at him, there was immediate recognition as well as shock across her features. It was brief and fleeting before putting up a friendly facade.

It took Rhea slapping on the bicep to smack Damian back present, realizing he’d been staring at the artist long after the gal she’d been working on had left happily. Meaning he had given her an intense resting bitch for a good minute now. Incredibly embarrassed Priest offered a hand which she accepted with an impressive firm hand shake.

“You can call me Minnie, only people I like get to use that.” Rhea playful shoulder checked her with a warm smile,

“It’s short for Minerva, her parents were from Athens originally”

“So your namesake is a Goddess of War, seems fitting.” Bright sky blue eyes flicked up from the sketchbook she’d grabbed to start jotting ideas from him. And without pause blossomed like a Sunflower, taking note of the dimple on her right cheek.

“Best make sure you never get on my bad side, Rhea has some great stories of me chasing off her exes prior to Wrestling. I’m only five years older than her, not to mention like 5 inches shorter even without those elevator shoes she stomps around in.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed that at all. Both of you still don’t have me beat.”

“Well you clearly discovered immortality in high school, because you haven't aged a bit.”

Rhea perched herself on the spare stool in the room, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes as she watched the two getting comfortable with their back and forth.

“What she neglected to mention is the three times she chased them off with a metal bat wrapped in barbed wire and nails welded to it.”

“Jokes on you, I still sleep with that bat beside my bed. Safety first and all that fun stuff. Safer than a machete, I’d rather not accidentally stab myself in my sleep.”

“That’s why we’re best friends.” The Aussie grins before giving Minnie a cheeky wink.

“Why do I feel like I got led into a trap?” She wrinkled her nose at Damian before opening the sketchbook before her.

“You have nothing to worry about Butterscotch, I take my art very seriously. Now let’s start discussing what you’re looking to get and where. I’ll let you know now, that while I’m sure you’re likely VERY blessed… I don’t do anything where I gotta see dick or vag.”

Priest momentarily choked on his saliva while Rhea guffawed in glee. A quick side eye glare at her smothered the sound to a quiet chuckle. Something about her felt like she was messing with the poor Puerto Rican man, akin to a cat staring directly at their owner while pushing a glass of water off the counter playfully.

“You’ve already got plenty of gorgeous pieces on that flawless flesh. What are you thinking of doing?”

No hesitation he pulled his t-shirt up and over while turning to show the empty expanse of his back. Her breath caught audibly, eyes briefly went wide glancing at Ripley wildly. The female wrestler grinned like the Cheshire Cat, watching each interaction with fascination. Plans coming to fruition.

The tattooer bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to focus on what he was actually saying. Once locked in, Minnie began to sketch up fluidly upon paper, at one point he was leaning over her shoulder admiring the work of a talented creative. Bringing his vision to life on the crisp white paper, each description rumbled like incoming thunder located in the man’s voice box. Thank god for hyperfocus cuz lord only knows this was gonna be a genuine challenge for her self-control. All she wanted to do was trace those tattoos on him with her tongue. She had to shake her head to focus back in again, hands working on autopilot, taking in his words with each glide of charcoal across parchment.

When he finished describing it she looked back up at him with a friendly smile,

“How big are you thinking of making it? So I know what to prepare for, as well as how many sessions to schedule in advance.” He tilted his head in thought momentarily before answering,

“Ideally I’d like it to cover a majority of my back.” She nodded in agreement,

“Alright, I’ve got the sketch started. I'll email you three different versions and you let me know what you like and what you don’t. And if there's aspects you like in one and want to add it to another one, just let me know. This is your tattoo on your skin, I want you to love it decades from now. How’s that sound?” Damian was genuinely impressed with her professionalism, even as he controls the strong desire to flirt with her. This was a time to behave, she was Rhea’s best friend, and thus not someone to attempt to make any moves towards.

“That sounds great to me, thanks.” Her smile was so sweet it could have made him diabetic just looking at it.

“Great. Oh and Rhea, let me know when you want to come in and do those matching ghost tattoos with Dom.”

“No rush, he’s busy planning his wedding right now so it’s gonna be a bit.”

“Sounds good to me. Now unfortunately I do have another client coming in twenty minutes so I gotta start prepping.” She pulled a business card from her bra, handing it over to Damian,

“My email and personal number is on there in case you think of something you want to add to the tat.Sound good?” Minnie gave a bashful little smile, and it made something deep in his chest want to say something incredibly forward. Rhea snagged him by the elbow, grinning like a cat that caught the canary.

A nod of thanks was all he got out before being ushered back out, quicker than able to verbalize his appreciation. Ripley called back loudly,

“Thanks love! I’ll make sure he remembers to check his email regularly.” As if he didn’t already do that for work contacts to begin with. Once back in the car Priest gave his companion a look of utter suspicion, he could tell that she had ulterior motives. Nothing vicious or cruel, but she’d tried to set him up on a couple dates in the past, none that worked out. He’s focused on work, most women didn’t appreciate not being number one in his life. It’s been a string of disappointments, to where he bluntly asked Rhea to stop playing cupid.

“This better not be an attempt at matchmaking again-” She cut him off with a sigh,

“I’ve long accepted that the ball is in your court from now on. I really truly just wanted you to go to an artist I’d trust my life with. She’s a good one, professional, talented, she spent twenty years as an apprentice before taking on her own clients. To top it off, she’s loyal, fun, and could use more genuine friends other than me. Can you blame me for that?” Her tone of voice was honest, after how much time they’d spent together, he could easily tell when she was bullshitting. Damian nodded to her as a show of acceptance to what she was saying. Her attention locked on the drive back to her place, Buddy was gonna get some sparring practice in with the other man.

His gaze trailed a spot in the distance, trying to keep that woman out of his thoughts… failing miserably. She had such a lovely face, and all the art on display was impressive to be sure. The name Minerva fit her perfectly, especially with how protective she was of the Australian wrestler. It was endearing how she was barely 5’3 and was ready to take on the world to keep her 5’7 well-muscled friend safe. He hadn’t noticed the small smile that spread across his features, but Ripley sure took note of it. Keeping her features stoic while internally she was so pleased with herself.

She pulled into the driveway where her man was waiting, he waved as they got out of the car. Buddy smiled at them,

“I’m guessing it went well? Minnie is great at what she does. Rhea doesn’t like to share her with people, so it’s a hell of a compliment she brought you.” She gave him a quick kiss before heading into the house calling back,

“Play nice boys don’t forget the Terror Twins have some matches coming up.”

Damian shook his head w a huff before following the ginger towards their personal gym. Somehow he still had a sneaking suspicion that Rhea was playing a long game now instead of all the quick fruitless dates in the past… The image of Minerva slid by again, and for once… he might be okay with that.

Tagged:

@superlove167 @midnightlycan @mooshroomii420 @hotwheels1108 @misslackey @gigisview @abadbitchblogs @sexyblacksimper @sweetmoonlove0214 @daithideolishmer118 @tomandbuckyfan1 @terrortwinunicorn @iy-16-18 @sluttysierraaa @jstarr86 @zombiedixon89 @horsekoala @fearlesschimera @eringobragh420 @elainneoneill570 @gretavanhockey @moonwolfdemonprincess21 @sad-dreamer93 @agustd202204 @nubian-queen22 @kaitlinlovetwister @bosslady3168 @gabberzzz1998 @mol2311

#damian priest #damian priest x reader #damian priest x oc #rhea ripley #buddy matthews #wwe fanfiction #wwe x reader #wwe x oc

69 notes · View notes

fandomzwriterk · 3 months ago

Note

This my first time ever requesting anything on this site, so please bear with me 💀 I have a request for any of the Mortal Kombat 1 characters (preferably Lin Kuei and/or earthrealmers) with a special other that ats like either Deadpool or Wolverine? I've been hyperfixated on both, and would interested to see how you portray it!! Thanks 💚💚 (also, love your content btw.)

A/N: yes absolutely yes! I act like Deadpool a lot so this is gonna be fun for me��😂 Also reader with be based off of both Wolverine and Deadpool🤣🤣😂😂 Brought to you by: Ashes by Nathan Sharp

Bi Han

-> When he first met you, which was a mission to bring you back alive, your first words to him were “come at me daddy” as you pulled out a pistol

-> Confused the man right then and there, making him freeze

-> Answered back with “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

-> As you pulled the trigger, Bi Han straight up froze it with a wall of ice

-> Of course, after you shot, you came running up with your claws unsheathed, stabbing right through the ice almost hitting him

-> “There’s a lot of things wrong with me! Where should I begin? I got tortured… A LOT. Oh I was basically a lab rat for a guy, may he rest in peace, that shot me up full of drugs to stop my cancer and now I can self heal which means I can’t die which means I’m forced to live the rest of my life knowing someone took my humanity away.”

-> Bi Han is just fighting you with his mouth wide open

-> He has no idea what to even say to you

-> “Come on bub, I’m not gonna waste my time fighting you. After all I just told you I can’t die.”

-> “Can you… suffer from other things?”

-> You answered with “yes but I grow anything back that gets cut off”

-> You pulled out a katana as he came to strike down on you with an ice blade

-> There is a lot of back forth… mostly you just trauma dumping on him

-> Bi Han is just thinking to himself “I swear to the Elder gods if she doesn’t shut up I’m gonna kill her- Crap.”

-> The fight ends with him plunging an ice blade through your chest and up making you fall to your knees, pinning you there

-> “Oh I’m not new to this. I like where this is going”

-> Bi Han just crossed his arms in front of him, standing proud as a fiery portal opened up

-> “Oh great thanks dude now I’m apparently going to hell.”

-> You tried to cut the ice with adamantium claws, still stuck in your chest considering how fucking cold it was

Kuai Liang

-> Met you on accident… really! On accident!

-> He had been walking through town when he saw you flip a 6 foot dude onto his back while the rest of the bar was going wild

-> He saw your steel like claws, cutting through everything in its path

-> He HAD to meet you

-> But you were gone as soon as he went to track you

-> “Not my first time being stalked but I will say, you my friend are terrible at it.” You answered sitting on the balcony above his head jumping for him

-> He pulled out his weapon, lighting it on fire as he swung towards you, pulling onto the rope that was holding it

-> You backflipped over his head, making his back get turned to you

-> “Ooh… kinky. Not my first rodeo with that though.”

-> Just stopped in his tracks as he turned to fight you, confusing the hell outta him

-> “I You are very strange”

-> “Eh. I’ve heard that one a few times.”

-> “From who may I ask?”

-> You showed him your bloody claws that had been retracted back into your skin previously

-> You lunged at him, making him roll to the side

-> “Oh come on I hate it when the fun is-“

-> He had cut you, seeing your blood light aflame as it spew from your arm

-> But instantly, it healed, sending Kuai into a state of worry

-> You still felt the skin slowly close

-> You did have no intention to fight or kill him

-> You were mad your sleeve had been cut

-> “Oh come on this was my favorite one!”

-> Your mood changed instantly, seeming to forget he was there as you pulled off the sleeve

-> “I uh… I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to attack you. I wanted to-“

-> “No need to apologize, I just fight everyone I come across. After all I don’t know if you were trying to kill me there. Speaking of which how in gods name did you light that on fire? I’ve been trying for years and never understood.”

-> He put away his weapons upon hearing you start to ramble about random things

-> That fight ended but he asked you to accompany him to his home base

-> And of course… you agreed. Why not have fun all the time since you can live forever?

Tomas Vrbada

-> Weirdest place he met you?

-> At Johnnys house where you had been training him in weapon combat

-> Tomas had an immediate liking to you

-> You were even stronger than Raiden, who had been there with Kung Lao

-> He was entranced by your adamantium claws, your precise aim when it came to guns, and your incredible healing

-> Not gonna lie, when he first trained with you, he was so scared when he cut you deep on your arm

-> You being chill about it and going on about your day like it was nothing freaked him out

-> “You can heal yourself?”

-> “Umm… yeah? Thought Mr Playboy Billionaire would’ve told you that.”

-> “Johnny is-“

-> “Unreliable? Difficult? Stubborn? Ignoring all my advice? Yep that’s the Johnny Cage I’ve always known.”

-> You walked off with no worry, just cleaning your katanas with a soft cloth as you went to sit down next to a small pool of water

-> It took him some time, but Tomas eventually found out who you were

-> Surprise surprise, Tomas found out you’re the legend herself, the great and mighty Wolverine

-> Johnny told him that they wouldn’t allow a female to play a dominant role even though he fought against it, making some male actor the lead and changing some of the story

-> All this time thought you were maybe Wolverine’s daughter

-> But… your personality was more like Wade’s, a friend of Johnny’s who played your other “crude” half Deadpool that was actually really you as well

-> You could be two different people, and he liked that

-> So you were real, and Tomas wanted to always have his eyes on the legend herself

-> Soon enough, about some months later and after visiting the Shirai Ryu enough times, you talked to him about your trauma

-> He told you he knew about it, but he’s not one to judge what you went through

-> After all, he lost family too

-> Secretly wants to find out what exactly you can live through

All Brothers

-> Tomas is protective of you, Bi Han wants to push you to your limits, and Kuai is the one who makes sure you do the right thing, even if you feel like a bad person

-> Tomas very much admires you and I’m sure he, Johnny, and Raiden have made a fan club about you

-> Bi Han is the one who punishes you for wrongdoings, even going as far as to hurt you to make you listen

-> Kuai Liang is the one who takes care of you on your rougher days

-> All three understand they have no place try and understand the torture and pain you went through

-> All three have thought about you fighting them in a 3v1

-> You become the most important person to them for various reasons

-> Bi Han makes you important by telling you and reminding you of all the things you’ve fought so far, how strong you are to still be alive

-> Tomas always has your back through anything, specially missions or when it’s just him and you

-> Kuai always reassures you that even if you’ve done some bad things in the past, that’s not what you always will be defined as

-> However, they know you’re technically immortal and that even if you are and they aren’t, they’ll still treat you like a normal person

-> If you ever have nightmares, each brother does a different thing depending on who’s around

-> If it’s just you and Bi Han alone, he’ll immediately come to find you if you’re having a panic attack or a flashback of awful things you’ve done and said before

-> He chills you down when you’re thrashing in your sleep and burning up

-> He knows you’re not a shitty person like everyone said you were, you’re just a broken “hero” who’s been screwed over so many times

-> If it’s you and Kuai, Kuai always stays nearby with anything you need and if you need alone time, he’s still around with food or comfort

-> Always enforces that you will always be a “hero” even if you don’t feel worthy

-> Is the one who will watch your “movies” with you

-> If it’s Tomas, he’s always by your side, never wavering or leaving

-> He’s the one who’s protecting you, making sure your bad days will be good ones in any way he can

-> He’s the one you talk about your past “transgressions” with

-> Tomas always has some sort comfort thing for you wether it be a blanket or a food you like

-> When they’re all there and you’re having a breakdown or nightmare, they’ll each find a spot to be near you with all three of them cuddled against you like you’re a child

-> You’re all snuggled together like a family even if you’re all different

-> They’ll all stay till you’re comfortable, focused, and ready to keep fighting ahead

A/N: as you can see, I’m very partial to Tomas I’m sorry🤣🤣🤣 Anyways I’m back from vacation now (my bf and I went on a trip)

73 notes · View notes

innerfare · 2 months ago

Text

Lawbin Headcanons

Summary: Early stages of Lawbin. This whole thing is basically Law being a dork who’s constantly trying to play it cool while falling for the weird girl (Robin, I love you, never change).

Characters: Trafalgar Law x Nico Robin

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

When Robin met the Captain of the Heart Pirates, the Surgeon of Death and a Warlord of the Sea, Dr. Trafalgar Law, she didn’t trust him, not even for a second. Recall, she has extensive experience with Warlords and would have died at the hands of one if Luffy hadn’t saved her despite her own insistence he leave her to die. As soon as she meets Law, she swears to herself that if things go sour, Luffy won’t be saving her and, in fact, she’ll be saving Luffy. She won’t let the Warlord take a shot at her Captain, and she takes Luffy’s proposition that if the alliance goes bad, the crew will have his back, to heart.

For the longest time, that’s how Robin thinks of Law: the Warlord. She never talks about it, but she has PTSD from her time with Crocodile. She had never known peace or solace in her life; the safest position she’d had before joining the Straw Hats was as the right hand of a man who ultimately viewed her as expendable. And Sir Crocodile wasn’t just any man, he was a pirate brimming with power and eerily intelligent, with a mind for strategy. Just like Traffy, whose insistence on planning out every little detail and having a backup plan for every backup plan takes Robin right back to Alabasta.

Robin becomes a little obsessed with comparing him to Crocodile. She zeroes in on his willingness to make small sacrifices for the greater cause, his analytical nature and reserved emotions, his apparent lack of friends. Only, Traffy went to great lengths to help the Straw Hats rescue the children on Punk Hazard, and he didn’t take the opportunity to be too cruel to Smoker and Tashigi despite having them chained in front of him. But that doesn’t stop her from trying to make him into Crocodile 2.0.

And then there’s Law, who’s such a dork. Strategic alliance this, strategic alliance that, but from the second he met the Straw Hats, he wasn’t thinking about betraying them, he was wondering how he was supposed to remain impartial with such an affable group. He thought Nico, at least, would be an ally against the general Straw Hat insanity, but she turned out to be the crew’s worst enabler rather than the mother hen he had originally pegged her for. Which begs the question, what else was he wrong about?

Annoyed to have been so wrong, Law begins paying more attention to Nico. He notices that she doesn’t fall into the insular trap that a lot of academics do. She’s not just an expert on her one field but in fact is incredibly well read and is a wealth of knowledge on a menagerie of different topics, and each topic he learns she is well-versed in is weirder than the last.

Why is Nico an expert on Panda Shark socialization? How did Nico come to find out that there is a mythical, lost library full of love poems on an unnamed sky island? Why does Nico have so many books on a random king from the South Blue who died eight hundred years ago? How did Nico learn that there’s an island in the West Blue where white pumpkins grow on bone trees? And why, oh why, is she versed in Germa 66 lore? Finding out the last one makes his heart drop, the realization that he would risk it all for the Straw Hat archaeologist making Law’s stomach churn.

And how is she so calm all the time? He had pegged the academic as similar to him, but her crew’s shenanigans seem to just roll right off her. She sat in that cell with him and the others in Punk Hazard reminiscing about old times with Luffy and Smoker instead of cowering in the shadow of Vergo, and she more than held her own on Green Bit, lending herself to him as an asset time and again, always being there to lend a helping hand (or twelve) when the plan fails.

All that is to say, Law falls first. But it’s Robin who makes the first move.

It’s only when she sees Traffy interact with his crew that Robin sees him for who he is, and she can’t get that man out of her head- that man who isn't domineering but tries to make people follow his orders to protect them, that man who is so adored by his crew (the members of which he protects rather than uses for his own gain), that man who, despite being called Warlord, is kind of adorable.

Robin starts teasing him a bit; she just can’t help herself. Now that her Crocodile glasses are off, she can see that he doesn’t have the sort of temper that leads him to kill people but rather the sort that just leaves him spluttering and speechless. And, well, she thinks it’s cute. She starts feeling dumb, too, for not having seen it sooner. After all, Luffy saw he was a good and trustworthy person, and that should have been enough for her, but she had been blinded.

No longer blinded, she starts enjoying her time with Traffy, though he doesn’t notice the shift, doesn't realize she's soft on him. He thinks she’s needling him for some other reason. It never occurs to him that Nico (or anyone, for that matter) finds him cute. And he almost goes into cardiac arrest when she tells him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He demands one night, fed up with that little smile that always seems to be on Nico’s face while she’s staring at him. “Nothing,” she says, swallowing her giggle, “I just think you’re cute when you’re annoyed.” And with that, she leaves him to process what she’d just said.

Their relationship is built on info dumping. Robin can talk about her weird interests, such as the mating habits of Sea Kings and the fact that the antidote made from Conine in the bark of Kona Trees can actually be used as a poison if mixed with the correct substances. And Law can talk about his childish interests, such as various comic books and ninjas. These two geek out on a level not previously known to humankind.

They bring each other odd tokens, typically the weirdest possible thing they could find on their respective travels.

Law buying Robin books and leaving notes inside that get progressively more personal, Robin asking Sanji to show her how to make onigiri because it’s Law’s favorite.

And then there’s the trauma. Both were nearby when their parents were murdered. Both were alone in the world at a very young age, Robin hunted by the World Government and Law by the Donquixote family. Both know what it’s like to be completely alone with nothing to their name but a bizarre devil fruit ability and a target on their back. Both managed to find their way in the world despite feeling for years that they never would. They didn’t save each other because they didn’t have to. They’re traumatized, but they’re not broken, and together, they can be even stronger. They saved themselves, and now that they did, they’re free to bask in each others’ presence. And that’s exactly what they do.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

#one piece #one piece headcanons #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law headcanons #law headcanons #heart pirates #robin #nico robin #Nico Robin headcanons #robin headcanons #lawbin #lawbin headcanons #law x robin #traffy #straw hat pirates

101 notes · View notes

inamindfarfaraway · 11 months ago

Text

Here’s a sad thought about Princess Jasmine in Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier, courtesy of listening to the soundtrack again and feeling the feelings about her and Ja’far: this version of the Sultan must be a really bad father.

We never see him interact with his stepdaughter. He already seems rather senile when he steals Scheherazade, and that’s sixteen years before the present day. His sanity may well have completely gone in that time. Even if it didn’t, he makes it clear in his one appearance that he considers everyone in his power to be objects defined entirely by how they can benefit him and remorselessly will torture, enslave and murder them on a whim. I doubt that he’d be sensitive or nurturing toward his child. Now, I think Scheherazade would be a great mother - but she never got to try.

The Sultan has evidently been very neglectful and distant, failing in his duties to teach the Princess how to be both a good person and a good member of royalty. Despite her being his only heir and old enough to marry and rule the kingdom, which apparently has no problem with a female sovereign, he’s let her grow up to be extremely sheltered and not at all adequately prepared for responsibility and politics. It doesn’t even occur to her that having her tiger assault a neighbouring country’s visiting prince might have consequences. The Sultan, and on his behalf the Captain of the Guard, don’t let her know important news and royal decrees: neither what a menace Aladdin is, leaving her vulnerable to him, nor the Sultan’s mass execution of the 2D Department, since for as insensitively egocentric as she is at the beginning, she’s still deeply sentimental and quick to empathize with the homeless peasant Aladdin, so I can’t believe that she wouldn’t be at least a little upset with the Sultan (or more likely Ja’far) over so many lost human lives.

More than that, her immaturity speaks to bad parenting on the most basic level. She hasn’t internalized the Sultan’s cruelty, but has learned his selfishness, entitlement, impulsiveness and poor emotional regulation. Her social skills are notably clumsy and underdeveloped (not picking up on Aladdin’s numerous red flags, “No high five”, “At least Abdul had a family who loved him!”, even cringing herself at the last one). The Sultan’s passed down absolutely zero wisdom of any kind.

Instead it’s Ja’far with whom she has a familiar father-daughter dynamic (“What’s up, are you mad at me?” “Where are you going?” “There she is!”). It’s him who shows concern when she runs away and gives the order to find her before all else, notices that she’s upset and talks her through her feelings, warns her about sexual predators, appreciates her idealism and effort. It’s him who provides the gentle but firm, healthy guidance and challenge that she needs to grow. Who sees her potential, respects and believes in her. Who loves her. However, he is ultimately in her service. Between the imbalanced power dynamic making him wary of treason (after all, the last time he had a stronger relationship than the Sultan with a woman the Sultan called his, it didn’t end well) and his other responsibilities taking away from their time together, he can’t be as influential a presence in his life as he’d like.

Maybe this why she’s initially so resentful of him. Subconsciously she does see him as a father all along, but he hurts her and lets her down sometimes. Like the Sultan, her only official parent, always has. That stings. The differences are that the Sultan hurts her much more, more consistently and without her best interests at heart… but Ja’far is the one she can lash out at and complain to and be a messy adolescent around, because firstly, he’s her subject instead of her ruler, and secondly, he’s actually involved in her life. He cares, and therefore yelling or halfheartedly trying to poison his wine will make an impact. The Sultan is untouchable. We know that she conflates the two in her head as unjust authority figures keeping her trapped and crushing her aspirations (“All the people who say I’m just dreaming, like Father and Ja’far”, one of the only times she mentions the Sultan). It’s easier to blame your problems on an employee everybody else hates than accept that your parent is a bad one.

Maybe this is the root of her discontentment as well, her yearning that she can’t articulate for something more than what the life she’s been given. The joke of “Everything and More” is that she doesn’t need anything besides what she has… but she does. She needs a competent, reliable parent. One who she can trusts loves her the person as her parent, not a servant of her bloodline, and she knows to love as such in turn.

No wonder she falls for “Orphaned at Thirty-Three” hook, line and sinker. She’s never known her mother. Her relationships with her paternal figures range from terrible to complicated. Having unconditionally loving, supportive parents and then suddenly losing them must be the worst thing she can imagine.

But in the end, the Sultan dies and her dad has to leave her. Although he found a way to live forever, it wasn’t enough to save her from the pain of being orphaned at sixteen.

#starkid twisted #twisted: the untold story of a royal vizier #twisted the untold story of a royal vizier #ja’far #team starkid #starkid

178 notes · View notes

diminuel · 2 months ago

Note

God… Wani transitions, looks so much more like a man than when they first met, and Dragon — so used to being reprimanded and poorly treated by men stronger than him, and used to being cordial and friendly with men he knows are *as* strong as him — but Wani is 10 years his junior. Still a rookie. And the marines teach you to *respect* and *submit* to men stronger than you. Which obviously the RA objects to. But Dragon is *head* of the RA so *everyone* is subservient to him — except his personal friends, whom are all basically equally as strong as he is if not stronger.

/except for Wani/

And whatever level of misogyny Dragon picked up pre-RA from the marines its pretty clear the flavor wouldn’t have been “ugh this woman thinks shes as strong as ME a MAN? Lets teach her a lesson boys!” as much as “pretty lady! pretty lady! impress the pretty lady!!!! make her like you make her job easy as possible so MORE pretty ladies want to work with you!!!!” So whatever Dragon believed about their difference in strength, experience, intelligence, etc. wasn’t assss relevant to him pre-transition. Thats his girlfriend why would he want to compete with or see bis girlfriend as a threat? They love and support eachother forever and ever.

But now he’s a man and he’s less experienced and cocky and all the things Dragon had beaten into him are signs of immense disrespect from one man to another man *clearly* stronger and smarter and more experienced and higher ranking and—

….and now Dragon’s bed is very, very empty. Which is weird because he doesn’t want to get out of it either.

Wani eventually comes back and Dragon has never felt lighter. Nothing really matters except Wani. He’s decided he’d abandon the RA if Wani asked. He really would. He knows his lover has dreams (dreams he’s apparently stomped all over). The RA isn’t a dream, it’s a necessity. But that means he can leave. He belongs to Wani first.

He’s pregnant. Theyre going to be fathers. Wani has NEVER seen Dragon cry like this. He missed him so much and now theyre going to be a family. Its barely past noon and Dragon has a resignation speech ready to go. He just wants to spend the rest of his life with Wani. Clearly his RA duties and his past are getting in the way so he needs to give being supportive his full attention round the clock.

Wani nearly clocks him over the head. Is he INSANE?! He doesn’t own ANYONE. Nobody belongs to ANYONE. Wasn’t that the whole point of his OWN RA? What sort of man throws his ideals away to impress a lover?

Stay in the RA. Wani isn’t giving up on their utopia either. (Maybe he hasn’t given up being king of the pirates yet either.) if theyre raising this child theyre doing it as equals Dragon. Wani thought thats what they were when he fell in love. He was surprised when becoming a man would somehow make that harder (aren’t they even *more* similar now?)

He’s right. Dragon’s respect for his lover should have never been made conditional or brought into question. He never truly forgives himself for fucking this up. Maybe Dragon has given Croc too much leeway with some boundaries, but that should have never been made into an issue of gender. A discomfort Dragon is only able to tolerate for a girlfriend but not a boyfriend. All or nothing. 50-50.

Of course. Reprimanding a superior in thr marines like this would get you on cleaning duty for a month. But he doesn’t feel disrespected. Or threatened. He’s *proud* his Wani is so strong and confident to talk down a man twice his size. Maybe Dragon is bigger and more experienced. But Crocodile is twice as brave and twice as determined and twice as confident and that’s *important* and it *matters* and it makes them both better people together. He’s good for him. Theyre good together. Theyre going to have a great kid and he couldn’t be more excited.

(And besides. Wani is only going to get bigger and stronger.)

Ah, I love it ;w;

Dragon going from one extreme into the other, letting his actions be guided by what he feels is expected of him in a given situation instead of letting himself be guided by his convictions. But luckily, Crocodile's there to knock some sense into him~

And Dragon's right, Crocodile will grow, he will get stronger. ♥

(Though the angsty part in me whispers what about when Crocodile does lose faith in himself? What about when his dream shatters because he was too cocky, too confident and nearly gets killed in a confrontation with Whitebeard? Unless that happened before or doesn't happen at all.)

#Anon #Diminuel replies #Dragodile

39 notes · View notes

lady-lostmind · 3 months ago

Text

And So The Lion Fell In Love With The Lamb

Read on ao3 Rating: E (eventually) | CW: Vampire!Eddie so probably like, blood and stuff.

If this is the afterlife then Eddie Munson is honestly god damn disappointed. Stuck forever in this disgusting wasteland? What a fucking joke. He’s laying on the ground, covered in crusty, caked on blood and with the worst sore throat he’s ever had in his life. The demobats that had been eating away at his flesh are laid out all over the ground. He vaguely remembers them dropping dead around him, right before he dropped dead himself in Dustin’s arms.

Shit. Dustin. He probably fucked the poor kid up for life. He wonders if there’s any way he can let him know that it wasn’t his fault. Although haunting the kid would probably do more damage than good. Fuck, his throat hurts. Isn’t death supposed to be peaceful? Painless? Why does his throat feel like it’s on fire?

Eddie pulls himself up, wincing as his hair tugs free of the blood and dirt that has it plastered to the ground. He pats his torso carefully, wondering why, if he can still feel pain here, his wounds aren’t screaming for attention. He lifts his shirt to find nothing but raised, pink skin where there should be gaping holes. He moves his hand up, feeling the side of his neck and cheek where he remembers more searing pain being. He feels the same tight skin as the wounds on his abdomen. At least he’ll look badass in death.

He looks around and sees a red glow in the distance, back in the direction of his trailer. Not really knowing what else to do, he heads in that direction. As he gets closer he realizes the glow is coming from a giant rip through the world. “ Great. So, basically I died for nothi-” His hands shoot up to pull through his matted hair as he realizes what this means. “Max. Fuck.”

He didn’t really know her that well. He saw her around the trailer park a lot, always feeding that scrawny dog and riding her skateboard. But he liked Max. She was sassy and didn’t take shit from anyone. The fact that Vecna managed to get her…that she must have ended up just like Chrissy. Eddie closes his eyes and tries to push the image of Max hanging in the air, her limbs snapped and eyes missing, far, far away. He has plenty of nightmare fuel. He doesn’t need any more.

He keeps walking, unsure of what else to do. What are you supposed to fill your time with once you’re dead? He never really thought about what happened after. Was pretty convinced there was no after, if he was honest. Figured it was just lights out, worm food, you’re done. But clearly he was wrong. Clearly there is something after the big dark sleep, because he woke up.

So, he keeps walking. All the way back to his trailer. To the decimated pile of rubble he once called a home, and stares up into the gate they had climbed through, sees the new rope that tells him they must have made it back. That they must have left him here. Not that he blamed them. He was dead. The fact that he hasn’t run into any of their…ghosts? (Is he a ghost now? He doesn’t feel like a ghost.) It has to be a good thing. That has to mean they're all alive and safe…right?

He stares up at the rope for another second before…”Fuck it.” If he’s going to be stuck somewhere for eternity, it sure as hell isn’t going to be in this shithole. He grabs the rope and hauls himself up, feels the shift in gravity in his stomach as he crosses over to the real world and drops to the grimy mattress below.

Eddie stands up straight after landing…on his feet. Apparently being dead comes with some perks. He’s not about to complain about being less clumsy. He takes in the dark space around him. The trailer is just as wrecked on this side of the gate as the other. He steps gingerly through a hole in the wall and out into the cool night air.

“Eddie?”

Eddie jumps at the sudden sound of his name, at the familiar voice, the same voice he thought would be the last he ever heard. “Henderson. Fuck, am I glad to see you.”

The breath is knocked out of his lungs as Dustin plows into him, arms flying around him and crushing his middle. He can feel the kid shaking as sobs escape him and he feels a lump form in his throat as he realizes he’s really here. Dustin can see him. Can feel him. So, he’s…alive?

part two

part three

part four

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie fanfic #lady lostmind #vampire eddie munson

38 notes · View notes

lavendertales · 1 year ago

Text

SEÑORITA: Chapter 5

pairing: Javier Peña x Murphy!f!reader

summary: you agree to go out with Steve & Connie to get their idea of a blind date out of the way. but once Javier arrives, you're nothing if not overly excited to give your time to him instead.

word count: 5.7k

series warnings: reluctant friends to lovers, lots of playful banter, mutual pining, slow burn, secret relationship, filthy smut.

chapter warnings: mentions of alcohol & smoking; jealous!Javi, tension, mutual pining.

gif: @beldros

series masterlist | AO3

Within the following days, you allowed guilt to chew you and spit you up. You avoided Javier’s eyes at any cost, barely responding to his “good morning” as you continued your morning ritual together. It felt tainted, such a small act of curtesy; tainted by basic biological needs, filthily and sneakily performed in the darkness of your bedroom, culminating in a name you refused to moan in full, but one that still lingered on your mind.

Doesn’t matter whether you said Javier’s name in full or not. He was the one you thought of in the throes of seeking your solo ecstasy and now, whenever you were met with his polite face, bright and early, you felt your cheeks burn red as you inevitably recalled burying your fingers in your wet heat, thinking they were his instead. You were beyond embarrassed, and you swore that under no circumstances he could ever know. Not that you believed the topic could ever come up, but just for safe measure, you had no intention of confessing this to either Connie or Sylvie.

It was just a momentary lapse of judgment, the result of a long dry spell and the presence of a charming, handsome man in your house. Nothing else.

But Saturday rolls around, and you find yourself wondering whether Javier would join you for drinks or not. He hadn’t made his answer clear when you asked, not even replying something sly when you mentioned you were quite certain that you were being set up for a blind date. Maybe he really didn’t want to witness all that; after all, that would mean he’d be the fifth wheel at a table with two couples.

Not the most pleasant atmosphere, and this you know firsthand.

So maybe Javier has no intention of showing up tonight. Truth be told, it’s probably for the best; you don’t need to be sipping alcoholic drinks and avoid looking at him in fear that he’ll notice your blush, ask about it, and then find out he was the star of your random moment of weakness.

You make an effort for tonight to look as good as possible. You find yourself excited about the idea of going out, letting loose a little and simply living. You put on a black dress with spaghetti straps that goes just above your knees, a pair of sandals and do your makeup to the best of your abilities. Then you take a cab and head downtown, your heart thrumming in your chest as you remember that tonight you’re most likely going on a blind date.

It was Connie’s idea; she told you about this guy from her job—Dean, was it?—that would apparently be a great match for you. Funny, kind, smart and a cook—the description sounded too good to be true, really, but Connie managed to spark your interest so you agreed to go, more on the premise of “let’s see what happens”. You found that living life from day to day was better than planning weeks or months ahead and then ending up disappointed or even hurt when certain plans wouldn’t come to fruition.

Which means that you have no plan for tonight. You just want to enjoy some good music, have some drinks and maybe, hopefully, dance.

You notice Connie first upon entering the bar, mostly because she’s wearing a white dress that definitely stands out in the washed out crowd of grey and black. You wave at her and she excitedly waves back, then you notice Steve sitting next to her, looking a bit uncomfortable. You’ve been on speaking terms, but you haven’t hung out since that dinner at their new apartment, so you understood the level of discomfort.

Thank goodness you were in an environment which provided an endless supply of drinks.

“Wow, you look gorgeous!” Connie exclaims as she comes in to hug you.

“You look just as gorgeous, if not more. Look at you, little miss angel!”

Your eyes meet Steve’s, and you spontaneously decide to hug him as well. He’s stiff, clearly taken aback, but not a second too late he reciprocates, wrapping his large arms around you, thus nearly covering you completely.

“Long time no see, huh?” you tease.

“A few weeks, hasn’t it?”

“I’d say so. Where’s Olivia tonight?”

“Going to bed early club. My mom offered to watch her, so we have the night off,” Connie explains.

“Feels good to be out of the house.”

“Tell me about it!”

You have a seat, ordering a Long Island Tea, and strike up a conversation about work. You gladly listen to Steve’s stories from the precinct, they are far more interesting than anything that usually goes on at the library.

But now your mind is somehow set back on Javier, so you take a bigger sip of your drink.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you that Javier stopped by the library last week,” you blurt out.

“He did?” Connie’s tone is filled with surprise.

“Yep. He was on his lunch break and wanted something to read.”

“What did he get?”

“A Pablo Neruda book.”

You abstain from laughing at Connie’s frown and her parted lips revealing shock.

“I know, I had the same reaction,” you say. “Would’ve never thought a guy like that reads romance poems.”

“Yeah. Me neither,” Steve says in a low voice.

“In Javier’s defense, there wasn’t much time to pick up a hobby like that in the middle of everything that was going on in Colombia.”

“Fair point.”

“He said he started reading poems shortly after returning to Laredo.”

Steve’s eyes shift onto your face in a feeble attempt to read through it and see if anything’s amiss, but you don’t give anything away. If there’s something you’re great at in this life, it’s hiding things from your big brother.

“Sounds like you’ve got to know him quite a bit,” Steve deadpans.

“We talked for like five minutes, handed him the book and called it a day.”

Nothing else happened.

“Well, we talked some more when he stopped by to fix my pipes but—“

Steve nearly chokes on his drink. “Excuse me?”

“Didn’t I mention that? How silly of me, I’m sorry. Yeah, I asked him if he could stop by my place to help me with the pipe issue I’ve been having. He was more than capable. Handled it like a pro, actually.”

There’s a big vein on the side of Steve’s forehead that’s about to burst at any given moment simply because from the way you phrased everything, you’re about 97% sure he’s picturing something else entirely and being beyond aggravated by the fact that he spend five, six days a week with Javier and the latter definitely did not mention this to him.

“Don’t dwell on it, big bro,” you tell him amused. “That vein of yours is about to pop.”

Connie chuckles behind her hand as she tries to hide away from the discussion, but her face changes when she glances in the direction of the entrance.

“Heads up, my colleague is here,” she turns to you excitedly. “Don’t freak out, but this is supposed to be kind of… well…”

“Connie, I know it’s supposed to be a blind date.”

Color drains from her cheeks. “Oh. I’m sorry, I just—“

To which you giggle, placing a hand over her exposed arm. “It’s fine. You weren’t exactly smooth about it.”

There’s plenty more Connie wishes to share with you, based on the way her lips remain parted and she stares at you desperately, but a man approaches the three of you at the bar, shaking hands with Steve, then briefly hugging Connie and—his eyes land on you.

“Hi,” he smiles, and oh shit, is that a dimple? “I’m Dean.”

You shake his hand, introducing yourself, and only then notice that he’s much taller than you. He has charcoal hair, styled nicely and carefully, and what appear to be green eyes. He’s wearing a black t-shirt underneath a leather jacket, and you gulp. He might not be a bad boy from Connie’s descriptions, but he sure has the look.

The only thing missing would be a tattoo and you’d even consider leaving this bar with him tonight.

“You are way more beautiful than what Connie said,” Dean smiles, and you already feel flustered. “And she did offer quite an in-depth description.”

“I’m glad to hear her words don’t do me justice then.”

“They really don’t.”

The way he’s staring down at you has you a little weak in the knees, but you do your best to remain composed. You cannot be acting out tonight, certainly not in front of Steve.

“Can I buy you a drink so we can go somewhere and get to know each other maybe?” Dean proposes.

“Sure, that sounds great.”

“What’s your poison of choice?”

“They don’t have that on the menu, but I’ll stick with a Long Island Tea.”

Dean chuckles, ordering exactly that and a greyhound. You turn around to ask him what he does for work, only to witness him removing his leather jacket and accidentally revealing a forearm tattoo that extends all the way to his bicep, by the look of it.

Oh no. oh, this is not good.

Calm down, girl. Just breathe.

“Maybe we can find a booth,” he suggest.

You’re stuck in some sort of trance as you keep glancing at his tattoo, but you quickly nod, hoping to dismiss the rush of emotions the entire image forces out of you.

“Told you she’d like him,” Connie playfully smacks Steve’s arm, visibly enthusiastic over the possibility of having set up a fantastic date for her sister-in-law.

“Dean’s a really cool guy.”

“They fit together quite nicely, don’t you think?”

“I’d say so, yeah.”

You spend the next forty minutes just talking to Dean and you gotta admit, he seems like a fine man. You find out he works in statistics—which undoubtedly means he’s smart—he has a dog, loves plants of all kinds, and he managed to squeeze several chuckles out of you in the past few minutes. Worst—aka best thing of them all—he’s a huge Star Wars nerd.

You’re sold on the idea that if by the time you finish this second drink and manage to dance with him, you might just take him home because the opportunity is too good to pass on. Dean doesn’t strike you as the one night stand kind of guy, but you decide to live even more in the moment and see where and how the night progresses.

By the third Long Island Tea, you decide to firstly cut yourself off, and secondly, if Dean keeps making you laugh, even as you manage to persuade him into dancing, you’ll almost have no choice but to take him home with you.

You are having the best time you’ve had in a long time; that much can be noticed even by Connie and Steve, who watch everything unfold from the bar. Everyone seems so focused on you and Dean that nobody notices the silhouette emerging from the shadows around 11:37 p.m., an exhausted look residing on his face as he makes his way through the crowd with an unquenchable thirst for some hard liquor and a cigarette.

God, he’d give anything to smoke right now; it’s been such a long afternoon stuck in the office trying to explain to that moron of a Lieutenant why the Berger case hasn’t been closed yet. But it’s been almost months since he last smoked, and he’s quite proud of the progress he's made, and there’s no solid reason to interrupt this marvelous streak he’s got going on.

That is, until he loosens his tie, takes off his blazer and orders a whiskey neat and in the sweaty crowd on the dance floor, he sees you.

He wasn’t even looking, not at first; his eyes were merely scanning the crowd, just eager to see anything else but case files before them, and somehow they managed to land on your silhouette, covered in what appears to be a rather sultry black dress, dancing the night away next to a guy who is so tall, it makes Javier squirm in his seat, feeling unusually small.

“Javi? What are you doing here?”

Steve’s the first one to approach him and they shake hands, followed by a brief kiss on Connie’s cheek.

“Wanted to blow off some steam,” Javier shouts towards them. “Your sister mentioned you guys were going out tonight.”

“She did?”

“Yep.”

“Glad you could join us!”

“Me too. Thrilled, really.”

The way he chugs his whiskey is anything but an indicator of his presumed excitement. He instantly orders a second one, the craving for nicotine even stronger when he has to force himself to peel his eyes from the dance floor.

“Who’s that?” Javier asks passively.

“Her blind date. Connie’s idea.”

“Guy from my office, his name’s Dean. Amazing guy.”

“Right, the blind date.”

“They really hit it off, look at them laughing!”

There is no reasonable explanation for the feeling that’s bubbling inside Javier’s chest. All he knows is that it’s something ugly that he deeply resents and spends the next half hour or so denying its existence, all the while stealing glances at you and this guy Dean.

And what he’s left with is the fact that you look really pretty when you’re happy.

It’s uncanny to think this way when he doesn’t see anything happening between the two of you, but even Javier cannot deny that tonight you look really ravishing and that seeing you smile is quite the sight.

You sure look happy dancing with that Dean guy. And Javier hates what it does to him because it’s all so bizarre and new to him. Though he draws one conclusion as he sits at the bar and sips from his third whiskey of the evening: he doesn’t like seeing another guy around you and that can only mean…

No. No fucking way.

It’s just a typical case of wanting what you can’t have. You’re off-limits, and Javier’s lizard, primal brain, along with the never-ending dry streak, decided that being stuck on you is a good idea. You’re cool and funny, sure, but still far from Javier’s usual type.

Which means that even if he were attracted to you—and you sure are a pretty girl, objectively speaking—he absolutely cannot sleep with you as a form of palate cleanser. If you were any other woman, maybe; but Steve’s little sister? Never in a million years.

The amber liquid in his glass worked its magic and loosened him up, though in the past it hasn’t been proven to be the best choice when around an attractive woman.

But knowing that you are beyond off-limits does help in a way. So he grits his teeth, swallows whatever it is that’s bothering him so deeply and forces himself to look away from the dance floor.

“You’ve got some moves!” Dean leans over to chuckle in your ear.

“Thanks! It’s mostly the Long Island Tea, but I gotta give credit to my college partying days.”

“Celebrated a lot, I take it?”

You grin, your hand resting ridiculously comfortable on his bicep. “Oh, Dean. You can’t even begin to comprehend.”

You faintly notice the way his eyebrows cock upwards, revealing surprise. He smiles, spinning you around to the rhythm of a song you do not recognize, and then he pulls you back to him.

“Listen, I have to make an appearance at a friend’s birthday party in a bit. Two blocks away. Would you like to come?”

You open your mouth to offer your response when you notice a third silhouette by Steve and Connie. You gulp, suddenly your back sweating more than before.

Shit.

“I’ll take a raincheck on that if it’s okay,” you smile politely.

“No problem. I guess we’ll be in touch?”

“Sure. It was nice spending time with you, Dean.”

“With you too.”

He leans over and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek and you feel that very same spot burning with flattery instead of guilt, which is a more than welcome change. But when your glare returns to the bar and you notice the figure dressed business rather than casual, you gulp and miraculously, your guilt returns full force.

In spite of your better judgment—which really left the building after your first drink—you make your way back to the bar, now face to face with a visibly exhausted and grumpy Javier.

“Hello there,” you greet him.

His face lights up once you address him—or so you’d like to think. Why on earth do you want to think that?

“Hello yourself,” Javier replies. “You look—“

“Where did Dean go?”

Steve’s question bothers you more than what you let reveal. “None of your business,” you reply.

“But I thought—“

“Let them be.”

You don’t say anything else to Javier, and neither does he, but somehow he still finds himself standing up from the rather uncomfortable chair and walking you back to the dance floor, as if that would make both of you invisible to your family.

“I was—what—what are you doing?”

Javier stares at you dumbfounded, his hands not even touching your waist, yet frozen in that very direction.

“I thought you wanted—“he begins, now questioning his every intention.

You shake your head, guiding his hands back to your hips and gulping with difficulty. God, your throat is like sand on paper.

“It’s fine,” you reassure him.

Of course the song in the fucking background had to be by Carlos Santana. Of fucking course. The song bumps all around you, Javier’s hands guiding you steadily along the rhythm and your body naturally following. It’s quite relaxing—if you wouldn’t be busy thinking about the way that your body seems to naturally respond to his touch, as if you’ve been doing this for years.

You were already sweaty from before, but now, with all the people grinding around you and the unbearable heat gathered from the alcohol and the dancing, your temples were dripping with beads of sweat, as well as your neck. You couldn’t help but notice that Javier suffered of the same predicament: he rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, the first two buttons undone, and again you gulped. You are painfully reminded of the night a similar image had sent you over the edge, and you blush right there with his calloused hands pressed ever so gently on your waist.

He moved both of you expertly, guiding your hips; eventually, your hands found solace around his neck, feeling the heat radiating from his body. But then he makes a move that spins you around, then pulls you back to him so that you bump into his chest, his skin on yours, and you feel afire. His eyes are locked on your face, and when they finally meet with yours, it’s electric. Goosebumps erect all over your skin, and you swear you didn’t feel this way when you were dancing with Dean. For fuck’s sake, you considered going home with Dean. You felt attracted to Dean, he was so handsome and funny and sweet—

But somehow, this moment right here feels more intimate and forbidden than anything else, and it’s evident in the way your breaths come out—ragged, almost as sweaty as you. You swallowed hard at the sensation of being so close to Javier, this mystery man with a troubled past that was the star of your illicit fantasies.

At first you thought it was the drinks that made you see things, but once, twice, thrice you’ve seen his eyes roam all over your body, every once in a while pausing to admire a certain part of you that wasn’t stereotypical to the male gaze: your collarbones, shoulders, the way your waist fit in his hands—

“Penny for your thoughts?”

His voice is like honey dripping straight on your skin when he asks that next to your earlobe.

“You really do know how to dance,” you observe.

“It’s a curse.”

“Cause the ladies can’t stop jumping on you?”

“You one of them?”

In spite of his smirk, you chuckle mockingly, as loud as you can go. “Don’t flatter yourself, Texas.”

“How did things go with the Dean guy?”

You frown at him. “Do you really want to know?”

“Just making conversation.”

“Ask me something else then.”

“Okay. What’s new at the library?”

“Literally nothing. All of our stock is fairly old. Except the two librarians working there. They’re fine.”

I know for a fact one of them is, Javier thinks fleetingly.

“Why the sudden interest in how am I doing?” you can’t help but inquire.

Javier shrugs, spinning you around once more. “You said we’re friends.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Sometimes I feel like I barely know you. Just trying to get some intel.”

“Old habits die hard, huh?”

Javier makes a funny face, and you hold back laughter. It’s the first time you see this side of him, loose and almost worry-free, and there’s something inherently captivating about it. When he spins you again, he doesn’t let you face him—instead, your back is against him, and you feel every ridge and bump possible.

Including, but not limited to, the outline of a growing erection.

You try your hardest not go gasp, though the heat that shoots through you is nothing if not making your mouth dry. You want to get lost in this moment more than you’ve wanted anything in a long time, but the rational side of your brain reminds you that your brother and sister-in-law are probably watching the spectacle, and you’re not fond of that audience one bit.

Otherwise…

“So you want intel?” you tease him once you can look at his disheveled yet impossibly handsome face again. “Okay Texas. Let’s see. I’m almost finished writing a book, actually. A real book, my own story.”

Javier’s eyes widen in the slightest. “Really? That’s incredible.”

“Thanks. You’re the first person I told this to.”

“Me? You didn’t tell Steve or Connie about it?”

You shake your head. “Connie, I might. Sylvie, I might. But Steve… you heard what he thinks about fanfiction. Why should he get to see my actual book?”

“He can be very supportive, you know.”

“I know. But I don’t feel like sharing this with him, not right now at least.”

“Did he ever read anything else of yours?”

“No. After his comments, I didn’t want to share my craft with someone who mocked where most writers begin. Especially since that someone happens to be my flesh and blood.”

“I understand. It’s a shame though. I bet you’re really good.”

“Still talking about writing?”

Javier cocks an eyebrow, the faint outline of a smirk gracing his lips. “Are you?”

“Touché.”

“If I didn’t know any better, Peña, I’d say you’re trying to butter me up to get into my pants.”

He scoffs. “Not a chance.”

“Good. We wouldn’t want chaos in our lives, now would we?”

“No, we definitely wouldn’t want anything so… troublesome.”

Back at the bar, Connie’s fed up with Steve’s relentless questions about you and Javier. She doesn’t have any answers, but she sure plans on getting some; that’s the mission in her mind as she strolls through the crowd of sweaty, grinding bodies to get to the two of you.

“What on earth is going on with you guys?” she shouts at the two of you.

To which you and Javier exchange a confused glare. “What do you mean?” you ask.

Ever so foolishly, might you add.

“It is very much obvious that you two like each other.”

“She’s not even my—“

“Oh, shut up, Javi.”

You make a shocked face. It’s not often you get to see someone as sweet and calm as Connie be so bold.

“Damn,” you mutter.

“You shut up too. You’re both adults! Grown ass adults acting like kids hiding from their parents. And for what, may I ask? I doubt either one of you is scared of Steve.”

“I just want to be respectful. I made a promise to him, and… we’re friends. That’s all.”

“Spare me. That is such bullshit. Friends don’t look at each other like that. They don’t dance with each other like that. How much longer are you gonna keep up this lame charade? All the lying…”

“We’re not lying to anyone, much less to Steve,” you remind her.

“To yourselves! Good God, you guys gotta figure this out before it’s too late.”

“But we’re not—“

“There is no ‘but’, Javi. Figure it out or cut it out before someone gets hurt.”

Whatever good mood you were in before, now it’s long gone. Guilt returns and simmers in the depths of your stomach, even as you do a twisted version of the walk of shame back to the bar. You refuse another drink, your head still buzzing from the three you’ve already had—and the moment you just shared with Javier. You can’t even bear to look at Steve brooding and judging you from afar. Not that you care; you really don’t give a shit what he has to say about your friendship with Javier, but Connie does have a point.

You have to figure out what this is between you and Javier.

Obviously you find him attractive. Very much obvious by now. But you meant what you told him: you do consider him a friend. Though you must admit, strictly to yourself, that you’ve never masturbated to the thought of a friend before, regardless of how attractive said friend was. Which mean that at least physically, you enjoy having Javier around you. Which also means… you’re physically attracted to him. Okay, that’s not bad. It happens. And based on what you’ve heard about him and women, he wouldn’t be opposed to getting this attraction out of the way so you can continue to be friends. Maybe under the right circumstances you can—

What the fuck are you doing? Thinking about propositioning Javier with a one night stand? Well that’s a new fucking low. You shake your head several times, prompting a few concerned glares from Javier in the backseat of the cab, and look straight ahead. Connie and Steve left separately on account of letting you two talk things through, but the silence residing in between is earsplitting. It’s like you’re both trying to figure out what to say to each other whilst also reminiscing of the evening you left behind.

Javier’s mind is racing as fast as his heart. He can’t get over how beautiful you look tonight, how he held you in his arms, barely touching you, and yet his body burned and ached all at once as if—

As if he belonged to you.

No. It’s just the booze and the hormones. He can’t do relationships, that much he knows with certainty, and he won’t ruin his friendship with you or with Steve by initiating something he will regret later. Eventually, something always goes wrong and somebody does get hurt. He doesn’t want that for you.

He takes a big, deep breath, a sudden scent invading his nostrils. It’s not bar-like, nothing pungent of the sort; no, this one’s pleasant and calming. He turns towards you, discreetly inhaling again, and then he holds his breath.

It’s you. Your smell. Something comforting and reassuring, yet all the while alluring, calling out to him.

When the cab driver announces your arrival, Javier practically sprints out of the car. Despite your protests, he still walks you to the door of your apartment. While you search for your keys in your purse, he lingers with his gaze one second longer than he would’ve personally liked, but he can’t fully help it. It must be around two in the morning now, and yet you still look so mesmerizing.

“That scent,” he almost groans.

You look up from your purse. “What scent?”

“It’s—you. Your scent, it’s—I swear to fucking God it’s everywhere.”

Taken aback, all you can do is stare at him and gulp. Your mouth still runs dry, as if no amount of water will ever feel the quench that resides deep in your bones.

“It’s lavender soap,” you clarify in an unusually small voice.

“Fuckin’—lavender.”

Before you can chime in with any other word or even think about what is happening, you find yourself closing your eyes and leaning dangerously closer to Javier’s face. He does the same, his heart thrumming at insane rates in his chest and in his ears by now. You exhale, and Javier abruptly pulls away, eyes wide open and his mind in control once again.

“Go inside,” he orders.

His voice is stern and yet caring, but it still surprises you. “If that’s code for something—“you try to joke, but your smile fades when you see Javier’s face.

“Don’t,” he warns. “Go inside, get some sleep.”

“Why are you so adamant about it?”

You do hear him groan this time, a sound to reenact some pain he’s in, and you shudder.

“Because if you don’t, I might just do something very regrettable within the next few seconds and I’ll break my promise to my best friend,” he nearly whispers, his warm breath tickling your face and your sense. “And just like that, I’ll be the Javier Peña everyone knew in Colombia. And I don’t want to be that Javier Peña anymore. So please, don’t—don’t do this to me. Not now, not ever.”

Stunned, you only stare at him for what feels like an eternity. You take that time to soak up every detail of his face, the way it’s scrunched in pain, the desperation in his eyes, the neediness and urgency in his voice—and it breaks you.

“What if I want to do something regrettable?” you ask instead.

“Just—just go… inside. Please. I’m askin’ as a friend.”

You don’t think you’ve heard Javier ask or beg anyone, not this way, so tenderly desperate, and it’s disarming you of any speck of self-control you thought you had left.

Mark my words, this Javier is gonna be on his knees before you, asking you to teach him how to be good.

“You can come inside too if you want,” you whisper.

You regret the words the second they leave your mouth, especially after seeing Javier’s nearly shocked expression. He cocks his head to the side, eager to dismiss your words and complain, but you’re one step ahead of him.

“We’re both a little buzzed and… a little tense too, so let’s have a cup of coffee and call it a night. We don’t even have to talk,” you tell him.

There’s no verbal confirmation; just Javier following you inside your apartment, hyper vigilant and aware of his surroundings. He’s afraid that any move he might make now or any word he might say will conspire against his sanity, and he’s already having trouble keeping focus. So he admires your book shelves while you make the coffee, slowly pacing around the living room. Something out of place catches his eyes, something that looks handmade and colored purple by hand. He takes it out, examining it.

“Believe it or not, that is my Star Wars story,” you smile fondly.

“This is it?”

Suddenly Javier feels like he’s holding a very important artifact in his hands, and he takes a mental note to treat it as carefully as possible. He flips through the pages with utmost interest, soaking up the words as the smell of coffee and lavender fill the tense air.

“Here we go,” you announce, handing him a cup. “Decaf. I thought you wouldn’t want to be up till six in the morning.”

“Thanks.”

Javier still reads through, as much as he can, picturing a younger you scribbling down this story so excitedly, coloring it to make it seem like it’s a book in and of itself, and the sight makes his heart grow even fonder.

So maybe he’s not just lonely and horny. Maybe he cares about you a little more than initially anticipated. But that’s not bad.

Is it?

“Thank you,” you say after a while. “For walking me home. I mean, you do live right above, but… still.”

“It’s what friends do, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

You can tell he’s avoiding looking at you, a sentiment you are certainly familiar with. After all, the very fingers that hold your improvised book between them were in your head less than a week ago as you pictured them buried knuckle deep in your most sensitive place.

“I really respect you a lot, Javier. You’re being very honorable towards my brother with this stupid request of his. And towards me too.”

Javier swallows hard, feeling anything but honorable.

“Yeah, well. He’s my best friend. And you’re—“

“Not your type. I know.”

Feeling less and less honorable at this very moment.

“You—you can’t be,” Javier seems to warn you. “I’m not someone to love. I’m someone who can offer some temporary pleasure and call it a day. And you deserve more than that.”

“I’m no stranger to temporary pleasure.”

So much for the right timing in terms of propositioning something so outrageous.

“You should get some sleep,” Javier coos, removing a lock of stranded hair from your face.

You shudder. You don’t have it in you to protest anymore, not after that dance you shared with him and the tense moment by your door. You just can’t. Maybe you do need some sleep, after all.

“See you Monday morning?” he asks.

That gives you hope. You smile and nod as Javier leaves the coffee mug on the table and promises you that he can let himself out. He’s thankful you didn’t see him sneak your story behind his back while he left, and he’s thankful you can’t read his mind to see the plan he hatched.

previous | next

tags: @pedrostories @psychedelic-ink @milkymoon2483 @ifall4dilfs @casa-boiardi @spidermanfrog

272 notes · View notes

periprose · 1 year ago

Note

I don't know if my ask got 'eaten' or not, but I did send it while I was on the road so I may have screwed it up anyway. My ask is based on your reblog of the 3 word sentences and if you care to, it's a twofer based plot: numbers 12 and 18 (just do it and you look lost) because I am a dithering decision maker except!! when I am going somewhere in which case my overconfidence gets me in trouble, something Peter knows too well himself. Love your writing!

unfortunately it did but I love this prompt so thank you for resending it!

Prompts can be found here

Peter is fairly sure that he's the one who's always late to everything. Every single seminar for this new Oscorp tech breakdown, he's the one who's five minutes late, and he swears it's not his fault.

It's just that he always happens to run into Spider-Man duties. He always finds another old woman who needs to cross the street, or a newspaper stand that has just been stolen from, and then after saving the day, he can make time towards catching the next subway train to Oscorp and hopefully run up the stairs, through the door, into the lobby, elevator, and then to the board room with a minute to spare. It always works out better in his head.

He doesn't understand why Harry needs him there. Peter knows technology stuff like the back of his hand– he already understood what the seminar leader who oversaw the development of the new tech was saying halfway through the meeting, and basically put the concluding points together before the meeting was even over.

Peter is nothing if not a good friend. Or employee who will be sent off with a strict warning if he doesn’t at least try.

This time, though? Peter has just made it to the subway station, and his glance catches onto a woman with a muted blue handbag, looking mostly competent and professional in a blazer, staring at the map, very obviously confused. He decides to be a good civilian and take a moment to help her. Just as Peter Parker, good guy who has two extra minutes to spare. Not because she happens to be a little more pleasant to look at than the rest of the passerby. She does really have bright eyes, though, and the way they catch onto every written detail of the map has Peter wanting those eyes on him.

Unfortunately, as she’s dithering and Peter approaches a little too slowly, about to work up the nerve to ask if she needs help, she suddenly mutters “Just do it! Who cares…” with a sudden bout of confidence, and she walks off towards the train heading North. The same train Peter is due to take.

Peter is kind of elated by this, even though he knows he’s a total dork and he doesn’t actually have the courage to speak to her. Even though Harry makes life sound like a romance movie– that apparently all it takes is the right conversation starter– Peter knows he can’t manage it. He’ll trip over his words and make the wrong jokes, and she’ll give him a polite nod while secretly dialing 911.

He’s just happy to have a commute crush to stare at.

The southbound train arrives from the opposite side of the road, and loudly beeps as the doors open.

Peter’s Spider-Sense goes off and he sees that a bunch of people are starting to exit the train, right into the poor woman who gets turned around a bunch of times and then looks utterly lost. Helpless. Eyes widening with the telltale fear of someone who doesn’t know where they’re going.

Well, we can’t have that, can we? Peter decides to saunter up to her and be her hero of the day.

You are so horrible with making decisions sometimes. Unless, of course, it’s taking a new journey somewhere, with directions you’re not exactly familiar with– for some reason leaping into it headfirst works better, cements it into your brain better if you have to travel around these parts around later, and you usually have the time to figure it out.

Of course, this time you’re late. This time, when you need to present a great big presentation at Oscorp, where your big new tech job is, you’re late, and you had to be overconfident about figuring out the directions.

God, couldn’t you have just asked for help?

As you’re beginning to spiral– was it the north train, or the south, will this crowd ever dissipate properly, and is there time to look at your notes for your presentation on the train?– someone taps your shoulder.

“Hey.” A friendly looking guy with warm brown hair, and eyes, is staring at you, not unkindly. He pulls you aside, out of the crowd, and you’re thankful– but a little wary.

“You look lost. Are you good?” The man has to lean in closer to you, and kind of yell-speak over the crowd, who are finally moving away to the above ground.

“Uh… No. I’ll be honest.” You cross your arms and huff, glad that someone could see that you needed help, and you feel a little happy that your saviour happened to be a smart, handsome guy who doesn’t look particularly judgemental, and you pull out your phone from your bag. “I’m trying to get to–”

“Oscorp?” He reads your phone and blinks, and then looks affronted that he spoke so soon. “Sorry. I just read your phone screen– I know that’s not proper etiquette. I’m going there too.”

“Uh-huh.” You fix your eyes on him, and Peter feels a funny twinge in his heart– something warm and soft as you size him up, making your own teasing assumptions of him. You half-smirk. “How do I know I can trust you? That you won’t just lead me to a random dungeon full of murdered women?”

You feel that you might’ve scared him off– you always come off a little too strong.

“Uhhhh, I was going to say I probably don’t look like a serial killer, but then again, you never know as a woman, right? Plus that’s some unnecessary bias and profiling on my part.” Peter fishes around in his pocket for his Oscorp ID, snorting at your joke, but also knowing that you’re not wrong to be concerned. “See? I’m Peter Parker. One of Oscorp’s biotech engineers.”

“Alliterative. Very cool.” You smile at him genuinely, glad to see that he is worth trusting, and he’s about to say something when the northbound train comes in.

“Hey, that’s us. Just two stops and then we’re at Oscorp.” Peter lets you walk ahead of him into the train, and you do so with some speed.

“Nervous?” He asks as the train starts going. He’s holding onto the loop for stability, while you lean against an arm rail. The train is kind of packed– and Peter is just a teeny bit happy for it, since it means he gets to stand a little close to you. He’s not trying to be a creep– you’re just cute.

“Very.” You shake out your hands, trying to chill out, and then reach inside your bag for your cue cards. “I’m starting out as a software developer– working on a genome editing program– and I’m doing a presentation on that today.”

“Oh, I’m in that seminar too. Although usually it’s just some dude presenting… not exactly someone like you.” Peter immediately facepalms, hiding in his hands for a moment before shaking his head, brown hair flopping about. “Sorry, I just mean… he’s not a cute girl, you know?”

Nice going, Parker. Peter groans and his hands remain on his face now, totally embarrassed by what he’s said.

“Oh–” You turn to him, but Peter interrupts you first.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t mean your looks are everything– I know how hard it is to be a woman in STEM, to get judged on things that have nothing to do with your credentials–” Peter swallows and sighs. “I’m not saying you were hired for your face– I’m sure you’re a very intelligent person.”

Peter feels your hand hesitantly touch his and move them, so he can get a look at your expression. You don’t look upset, just flattered, maybe with a hint of a laugh crossing your eyes.

“Hey, don’t worry. I didn’t take it that way. Good to know you’re not a typical STEM bro, though.” You read through your notes again, and Peter feels a bit of relief. “Thanks, by the way. You’re a cute guy too.”

You don’t know where exactly that came from, maybe an unexpected bout of courage bolstered by the adrenaline from your oncoming presentation, but it’s not like it’s false– this guy is very cute and you know you’re going to struggle if you have to work with him. You can’t quite look at Peter for the rest of the train ride, staring out the window. You catch a little grin on his face.

“So, genome editing, huh? That’s actually part of my work right now. Except more in the lab at the moment– working on synthesising frog DNA.” Peter shudders jokingly, and you laugh as you walk with him.

“Yeah, I’m basically the one who made the software program you’ll be using from now on. I just gotta make it easy for you guys to understand.” You inhale, and Peter can see that you’re still really nervous about your presentation.

“Hey.” He gives you a comforting squeeze of the shoulder, in front of the building. “You got this.”

“Really?” You look up at him, bright eyes glassy with sudden fears. “But you don’t really know me, right? For all you know, I’m going to run out of the room with stage fright.”

“No way.” Peter grins, self assuredly. “You wouldn’t be talking to an almost stranger if that was true.”

“I mean… kind of true. I just don’t want to mess up.” You sigh and pinch your forehead, thinking it over.

“Okay, how about this?” Peter decides on something silly, but something that also allows him to shoot his shot. When else was a pretty software developer going to just fall into his lap like this?

He ignores that image.

“If you don’t ace this presentation: who cares? People might be a little awkward about it, but they’re just people. It’s not a big deal.” Peter starts, and he sees you visibly brighten a little at that. “But if you do, you win something real special: a coffee date with Peter Parker.”

“Oh, I do?” You snort at his blatant flirting, but you can’t help but feel better with that potential date hanging over your shoulder. Peter Parker happens to be very sweet, at least so far, and you want to see just how far this could go. “Okay. I like the sound of that, but acing this presentation probably involves being there on time…”

You and Peter run through the lobby into the elevator– and you swallow your fears as you enter the boardroom, apologizing to the many developers and technicians about having to make them wait.

At the end of your very enlightening presentation– Peter knew there had to be no way he knew everything about this particular software since he had never tried it yet, and the fact that the original presenter seemed to be kind of vague on the details made it seem simpler than it was– you smile at him, and Peter grins back, knowing that he’s just won himself a date with you.

250 notes · View notes

violetsaffron5 · 1 year ago

Text

Beautiful Disaster (11)

← Chapter 10 • series masterlist • Chapter 12 →

11 | Midnight

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

After Shoko's ex is an ass to her, you take matters into your own hands

words: 3.1k

cw: drinking, slight jealousy, reader being an idiot, gojo letting her be an idiot, reader punching someone, car sex, rough sex, creampie

AN: Nothing bad is ever going to happen between these two 👍

Taglist • Ao3 • Discord 18+ • Social Media • Series Masterlists

February 2012

Things between you and Satoru have been great since the new semester started. You’re closer than ever, spending as much time with each other and your friends as you possibly can.

Mei has been notably absent around campus, to both your surprise and happiness. You had half expected her to show her face the moment the two of you arrived back at the boys' house.

You’re not sure if Satoru said anything to her or not, after your heart-to-heart with each other over break, but you’re certainly not complaining. And you don’t want to bring it up and ruin this blissful honeymoon period you’re finding yourselves in.

Every once in a while you’ll see Mei at a campus party but it’s never for long. The last time you saw her, she had an arm around Naoya Zenin, and you’re guessing that has more to do with his family business and money than anything else.

Tonight you’re having another party of sorts. It’s smaller, at Satoru’s campus house with quiet, upbeat music playing in the background as Shoko vents about a guy she started seeing right before Winter break.

Satoru, Suguru, Choso, and Sukuna are talking, joking, and goofing around in the kitchen while you, Utahime, and Nitta sit around the coffee table sipping on your mixed drinks, listening to Shoko.

From the corner of your eye, you can feel Satoru staring at you from the kitchen. Turning your head, you’re met with a flirty grin that causes your cheeks to heat and bite your lip before turning your attention back to the matter at hand.

“And then I went into the break room and he had her pressed against the wall basically fucking her.” Shoko groans before knocking back her drink.

She started working as a Phlebotomist, which is where she met the guy she started seeing. And where she found him cheating on her, apparently.

“Such a fucking prick. I told you I didn’t like him when we met.” Utahime interjects.

“Seriously, Shoko. You’re so smart and gorgeous with a great life ahead of you. He’s the one that’s going to be missing out.” Nitta adds.

You hadn’t met the man before leaving for break, but you try to be encouraging nonetheless, “you’ll find someone who respects you and truly cares for you. Maybe you already have and you just don’t know it yet.”

Shoko snorts before taking another drink as you give her a soft smile, eyes flickering between her and Utahime for a moment.

When the guys make their way into the living room, Satoru brings you a new mixed drink, handing it to you before sitting on the couch behind you, pulling you onto his lap. He’s been holding you close all night and your best guess is because Choso is here to hang out with Suguru.

You’ve noticed anytime Choso tries to talk to you about your classes, or about anything in general, really, Satoru gets a lot handsier. Pulling you close, abruptly kissing you in the middle of a conversation. Nothing is off-limits with him.

You brought it up, trying to ask why he’s so jealous and acts that way, especially with his history with Mei, but he just says he’s not the jealous type. You laughed, reminding him when he thought you slept with Suguru and that’s when he suddenly decided he wanted to be exclusive.

“He also said he doesn’t want to be with someone who is taller than him in heels and then told me there was no way I was smart enough to make it through medical school.”

Shoko has tears in her eyes, head resting on Utahime’s shoulders recounting the conversation she forced him to have when they broke up.

“What the fuck?” You mutter with raised eyebrows while Utahime gasps before chastising Shoko for not telling her that part. “Shoko this guy is so fucking infuriating. I really want to kick his ass. No man should ever speak to you that way.”

She laughs for the first time all night, grabbing a tissue from the coffee table, “I wouldn’t mind seeing that, honestly.”

“Want me to?”

Shoko would never do something like that herself, as kind-hearted as she is, but you’re pissed for your friend, and tipsy enough to go through with it.

She laughs again which brings a smile to your face, “Are you serious?”

You nod, maybe a little too enthusiastically before looking at Satoru who is watching you with his own amused expression and wide smile, “Do you even know how to throw a punch?”

“Nope! But I’m going to do it. Where is he?”

“We were supposed to go to a different party tonight,” Shoko says between blowing her nose, “It’s downtown, at one of his friend's places.”

You turn and look at Satoru with wide, shining eyes, “Will you take us there?”

He laughs, amused at your feistiness - something he’s always loved about you, “Calm down, killer. First I’m going to teach you how to punch.”

Satoru ushers you off his lap, moving over in the living room to give the two of you enough space, showing you how to hold your hand properly, and to not tuck your thumb. He also warns you that it’s going to hurt worse than you expect, especially when punching someone in the face.

You giggle a few times, tipsy and tripping over your own feet, falling into his arms as he catches you with his own boisterous laugh.

“You sure you wanna do this?”

“Yeah. But can we go soon before I lose my nerve?” You’re grabbing your shoes as Utahime, Shoko, and Suguru all get ready to leave as well.

He chuckles, “Sure, babe.”

“Okay,” you breathe after gathering your things, bouncing on your feet in anticipation, “Ready to go kick some ass?”

“You’re perfect for me,” Satoru whispers, pulling your chin up to him, and pressing his lips to yours.

You make him want to be a better person. You’re sweet, kind, and more adventurous than he expected when you first started dating. He loves that he brings out that side of you. And you, you reign him in enough to not be so wild and carefree.

He really believes you bring out the best in one another.

Shoko is able to get the address of the party pretty easily, from another one of her friends who was planning on attending tonight.

When you arrive, it’s a very familiar sight; similar to the parties thrown at Satoru’s place. Loud, obnoxious, red plastic cups littered everywhere, and plenty of cars parked in front of the house.

Taking a deep breath, you look at Shoko, raising your eyebrows and giggling at what you’re about to do as she nods her head toward a group of guys standing outside the house. They’re talking, all with cups in their hands and laughing about something one of them said.

Scrunching your nose, you give Satoru a quick peck on the lips before walking up to the group of guys. Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and Utahime hang back, letting you do your thing. Satoru will get involved if he needs to.

Choso didn’t want to take part in your drunken shenanigans and Sukuna stated he was going to meet up with someone, but wanted to hear the tales of you kicking ass tomorrow when he’s back. You’re surprised Utahime joined since she rolled her eyes and called you immature before heading this way.

The group of guys stop talking, a few of them quirking an eyebrow, looking you up and down as you as for Shoko’s ex.

“Yeah, he’s inside.” One of them nods towards the door of the house.

“Could you go get him for me? I just need to talk to him for a second but I can’t stay long.”

One of them smirks, looking you up and down again before chuckling, heading inside. You stand awkwardly, hands in your pocket to keep them warm until the man of honor emerges from the house a few minutes later.

When he comes out he smiles salaciously, showing a perfect row of teeth, “Do I know you?”

“No. But I’m friends with Shoko,” You point back at her and he looks over with furrowed brows, “And I have something for you.”

He looks at you confused just before your fist makes contact with his nose. And Satoru was absolutely right, it hurts way worse than you expected, but it was also exhilarating. Silly. And a really dumb fucking idea.

But you can’t help the way you giggle as your mouth hangs open from the pain, tucking your hand between your thighs for a moment as you suck a deep breath between your teeth.

“What the fuck?” The man says, swiping the back of his hand over his nose, seeing the little bit of blood spilling out.

“Fuck you. Never speak to me again!” Shoko yells, giggling as she and Utahime scamper back to Suguru’s car with him in tow.

You laugh, running back to Satoru, throwing your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his. You’re on your tip toes, moving your hands to his shoulders guiding him to take several steps backward, until his back hits his car.

He’s laughing, smiling between kisses, reaching back and opening his car door with one hand, never breaking the kiss until you sit and he has to close the door.

You watch, biting your lip as Satoru makes his way around the front of the car, hearing the man you punched yell about how you’re a crazy bitch. Satoru smiles, flipping him off before getting into the driver's seat.

As soon as his door is closed, you’re scurrying onto his lap, pushing your hips into his. He groans with a soft “fuck,” when you rock back and forth, his hands quickly making their way to your waist, pushing you down further.

You moan quietly when Satoru’s hands find their way up your shirt, running small circles with his thumbs below your breasts while he focuses on kissing and nipping your neck.

Adrenaline is running through your veins, and you’re shaking from excitement, needing a release to help calm down, “Satoru, I need you to fuck me.”

“Here?”

“Yes.”

He groans, slipping his hands into the small space between the two of you, ripping the tights you have on under your skirt to expose your pussy to him. Satoru moves your panties to the side easily, sliding his fingers between your folds before pressing his thumb to your clit, rubbing small circles.

You moan into him, kissing his jaw and lips as you focus on unbuckling his belt, helping him shuffle his pants and briefs down to release his hardening cock.

The car is quickly getting warm, windows starting to fog with your hot breath and the warmth of two bodies pressed into one another. You stroke his cock slowly, squeezing the tip as he curls his fingers, hitting the spot that makes you see stars until your legs are shaking and you’re gushing around him, throwing your head back in pleasure as your orgasm washes over you.

Your kisses are hurried, frenzied, all tongue and teeth as you take his hard cock, lining him up with your entrance. Satoru’s hands are on your hips, helping you slide down his length until you’re fully seated, moaning into one another.

Placing your hands on the roof of his car, you use that as support to help your roll your hips and his on your waist helping you bounce up and down the best you can in the cramped space.

This has to be one of your favorite views, when you’re on top of him, driving him wild. He’s biting his lip, cheeks tinted with a pink blush that extends down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. When you lift his shirt to get a view of the way his muscular abs constrict with each of your movements.

“Fuck, baby,” He mutters as his eyes drift down to where you’re connected, watching a ring of white form around the base of his cock.

After your heart-to-heart conversation over Winter break, you don’t use condoms anymore. You’re too adventurous and in love.

Satoru says whatever happens, happens. If you were to get pregnant, the two of you will figure it out. You on the other hand argued that your mother would stop paying your tuition. He didn’t care, said he would take care of you, anything you wanted. But you can’t let yourself lean on him like that over something that’s preventable, so you started taking birth control.

However, if your mom does find out about that, there would be hell to pay as well. But at least you have a better argument about trying to stay somewhat safe, rather than explaining you got pregnant.

“I’m close, so close,” You mewl into Satoru’s lips, leaning forward just enough that his cock continues to hit your g-spot with every bounce.

He groans, feeling the way your pussy constricts around his cock. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he mouths a silent, “Oh my god,” before crashing his lips with yours just as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you.

Satoru loves this. Loves the way you are together. How neither of you can control yourselves with each other, how you need one another. It’s not what he expected to happen, but he doesn’t regret it, not for a moment.

You focus on kissing his neck as you come down from your high, taking several deep breaths before nibbling the shell of his ear, whispering, “Drive.”

“Mm. You’re perfect,” He says before easily turning on his car, shifting into gear.

You giggle, rolling your hips on his lap as he looks over your shoulder trying to concentrate on the road, but it’s hard when you’re moving your hips against his. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel from gripping so hard. He’d be afraid he’s going to break it, but that’s the last thing on his mind right now.

He speeds down the road, not for long before he’s pulling into an empty parking lot, throwing the car back into park.

In one swift movement, he’s wrapping a long arm around your waist to hold you close as he opens the driver door, easily lifting you and keeping you connected.

The air outside is cool, especially compared to the inside of the car. When the wind blows, a cold chill runs down your spine leaving goosebumps along your skin before Satoru presses your back to the side of his car so he can move his hips more freely, relentlessly.

You laugh a little, tilting your head back against the edge of the car taking in the pleasure he’s giving you as he continues to watch the way his length disappears in you, gripping your hips so hard there are sure to be bruises from his fingertips.

The wind blows again, it’s chilly but feels amazing as your body continues to heat up, even after being outside of the cramped, hot space of the car where your bodies were so closely connected.

“Need a better angle,” Satoru mutters to himself softly before grabbing you by the ass, hoisting you up a little so he can carry you to the hood of his car.

Satoru pulls out slowly, setting your legs on the ground as you whine at the loss of being filled. His smile is lopsided, eyes blown with lust as he turns you around, pushing you down gently so your face is pressed against the warm hood of his car.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he grunts out, pressing the tip of his cock to your entrance once again, easily sliding himself between your slippery folds.

You’re smiling, moaning into the wide open space of the outdoors. It’s quiet, the dead of night and the only sounds that can be heard are mewls of pleasure as the sound of Satoru slamming his hips against your ass.

He laughs, a little unhinged when he notices large, puffy snowflakes falling from the sky, blowing in the wind. Satoru presses a hand to the center of your back, keeping you down as he spreads your legs wider with his knees so he can get deeper, losing himself in you.

Satoru leans back, smacking his hand on your ass, watching the way it giggles as you moan his name at the contact. And he really can't help the way he rips your tights even further, exposing your ass to him so he can spread your cheeks with his large hands.

And he really can’t help himself he lets a trail of saliva fall from his lips, right onto your other hole, feeling the way your pussy clenches around him in surprise.

He sighs, it’s deep and longing as he spreads his saliva with his finger before slowly pressing his finger in. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, a new kind of heat forming in your core as he moves his finger in and out at a much slower pace than his hips.

“Gonna fuck you here one day,” his voice is rough with need, want, and desire.

“Please,” You’re practically begging for it now as your clench around him.

Satoru pulls his finger out and you whimper until you feel his hand snake under your stomach until his long fingers are wrapped around the base of your throat.

You watch him through the corner of your eye, turning when he hooks his finger into your mouth pulling your face to look at him.

“Open.” He commands and you listen, moaning when he spits into your mouth.

It’s enough to set you over the edge again, convulsing like you’re having a seizure out in the open, for anyone to see.

“Gonna fill you so f-full of me,” he babbles as he continues to pump his hips vigorously, “Gonna fuck you ‘til it sticks, ‘til you’re full and round of me.”

The thought sends him over the edge, slamming his hips into yours a few more times until he’s moaning out your name, his warm seed spilling out each time he continues to pump his hips into overstimulation.

You’re both breathing heavily, he’s littering your neck, cheek, and jaw with little kisses as he works on catching his breath with half-lidded eyes. When he finally pulls out, he watches the way his cum drips out of your core with a lopsided smile.

“What are you kids doing out here?” A deep voice says, startling the two of you.

Your eyes are wide and Satoru laughs as he helps you stand before shuffling you into his car, the two of you laughing at the absurdity of tonight, kissing until he closes your door behind him, running to the driver's side and speeding away.

@petalsrdead @sofiaconlaz @lovelylashawnalee @s-witch-bitch @watyousayin @desthevirgo @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @musababy @sagejin @ritsatoru @faewithsnakes @erenputurchildreninsideme @lex-dear @hvziers @babybae-shisui @sugurunicorn @niki-sun @lilith412426 @sofiaconlaz @lxvephxbic @iam-mia9 @laylasbunbunny @creolequeen11210 @xiaosie @lem-hhn @yogurttea @slut-jr @crystxlline @ritsatoru @abba-simp @myabae @etherealkakashi @hyperfixationsporfavor @yihona-san06 @ambersea7 @knightoflove

#jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #violetsaffronfic #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #BD

216 notes · View notes

ellswritings · 2 months ago

Text

The Tell 1x05

Episode 6

Being stuck at home with Michael wasn’t the worst thing in the world for Fallon. Would she rather be out with Noah and Stiles sitting in his police cruiser? Yes. But her dad has been apparently lacking quality time with his only daughter, and wants to “catch up.” His words, not hers. She somehow earned some freedom as Michae sent her out to go rent a movie from the video store about five minutes away from their house.

She shoots her dad a text, letting him know she arrived. Her plan was to get the Iron Man movie and just head back home. But to her surprise, when she removes her helmet and steps off her bike, Jackson is also walking into the store. Lydia sits alone in the car, adjusting her makeup in the mirror before taking her own phone out.

Before Lydia could spot her, Fallon rushes inside. It’s not that she didn’t want to talk to the strawberry blonde, it’s just that she knows she’ll get roped in to do something with the couple, and she doesn’t want to have to explain that she’s on lockdown.

The entire store is basically all window panes, which is a great advertising tactic as everyone can see their wide selection of merchandise. The tiny bell rings overhead as she walks in and her feet carry her to the superhero section on the right side of the shop.

She runs her fingers along the spines of each DVD before finding the one that she desires. She plucks it out with a grin, getting ready to go checkout. Or at least she was until she heard Jackson call out for some assistance.

“Can somebody help me find The Notebook?”

The brunette stops in her tracks. She could just continue on with her night, pretending she didn’t hear the boy. But seeing as no one else in the abandoned store is coming to his aid, she might as well do the nice thing.

She pokes her head around the corner, “Well, I’m pretty sure one of the biggest romance movies of all time isn’t gonna be in the sports section,” she says playfully, walking up to him.

Jackson turns around, surprised to see a familiar face. “Donovan,” he looks at her with wide eyes. He crosses his arms and frowns at her sarcasm, “Yeah, no shit. I think I know that.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she tilts her head before gesturing for him to come with her. “Follow me. It should be over here.”

She guides him around the corner and over to where the romance section is. It has to be the biggest part of the store which only makes it more humorous that Jackson still couldn’t seem to find it. Her eyes scan over all the disks, fingers running over each one as she searches for the Ryan Gosling film. No doubt Lydia’s choice in film as Jackson would never willingly see this on his own accord.

“I’m surprised you’re here by yourself,” the blonde comments with a hidden meaning. “I didn’t think your drug dealer boyfriend would be so lenient with you being out at night.”

Fallon furrows her eyebrows, her head snapping towards him, “I’m sorry?” She asks for clarification.

“The high-as-a-kite white guy who came into the school asking about you and Scott,” he explains with a disgusted look on his face.

Fallon realizes he’s talking about Derek. She shakes her head with a laugh, “I can assure you, he’s not my boyfriend.” She pulls The Notebook out of its rightful place on the shelf, handing it to the blonde.

He takes the DVD from her with a small nod, “Well, he seemed pretty pissed off when he couldn’t find you. He looked desperate. So I just assumed he was your boyfriend looking for a midday quickie,” he voices his thoughts. “Since you’re way too much of a goody goody to have a dealer.”

“First of all, you’re disgusting for even thinking I would stoop as low as a midday quickie. Second of all, if I wanted a dealer, I could get one,” she states confidently. “But I choose not to ruin my body or my life, so yeah.”

“I don’t think your boyfriend has the same concerns,” Jackson tells her as the two of them start to walk towards the checkout counter.

Fallon exhales loudly, “For the last time, he’s not my boyfrie–”

The brunette’s breath catches in her throat as they round the corner and come face to face with the dead store employee. She stumbles backwards into Jackson, the boy placing his hands on her waist to steady her. The man’s throat is ripped apart, his mouth hanging open as if he tried to scream for help but never got the chance to. Jackson tries to pull Fallon away from the scene, but ends up hitting the tall ladder behind them. It tips over, knocking down one of the light panels above their heads.

They scream as it narrowly misses falling on them. Fallon splutters, “W-we have to–” Jackson shushes her as they maneuver through the aisles. “He’s dead, Jackson,” she whisper yells. “We need to call the police.”

He shakes his head, pulling her towards the door as fast as he can, “No, what we need to do is get the hell out of here!” His face is pale and scared, similar to hers.

The two of them freeze in the middle of the store as the lights go completely out. Fallon clutches his hand tightly, him doing the same. A deep growl erupts behind the two and she can feel her insides trying to become her outsides. She and Jackson both slowly turn around and are met with a pair of glowing red eyes. Fallon swallows thickly as she tries to steady her breathing and pulse rate, but fear is the only thing on her mind.

Jackson yanks her to the side, pushing her up against one of the many shelves of DVD’s. Their backs are pressed firmly against it as they try to remain as quiet as possible. Fallon’s heart is practically pounding out of her chest, making her have an instant headache. She bites her fist as the Alpha’s loud footsteps echo around the store. A loud banging is heard and some discs fall on top of the two of them causing them both to tense up. Fallon peeks her head around the corner, trying to gauge where this thing is. Unfortunately, her search is cut short when every single shelf in the line up they’re hiding in starts to fall forward like dominos.

“Crap!” She exclaims, getting up on her feet to jump out of the way. She tries to pull Jackson along with her, but she’s too late. Right as he’s about to be in the clear, the last shelf snags his leg, crushing him with its weight.

Fallon rushes back to him, kneeling down as she tries to lift the shelf off of him. She grunts loudly, using every ounce of strength she has to try and free him. The shelf lifts slightly, but not enough to help get his lower half out. “Come on,” she pleads, continuing to power lift as much as she could.

The shelf suddenly becomes much heavier. Fallon yelps as her fingers are almost crushed by the shelf sinking down onto Jackson. When she looks up, she is staring into two bright red eyes. She swears her soul leaves her body at that moment. Its breath is hot against her face. The girl wants to run, scream, but she can’t move. It simply peers at her and Jackson, analyzing their every move. She’s paralyzed by her fear. The creature glances at Jackson before fully focusing on the brunette knelt in front of him. She squeezes her eyes shut as his claws graze the side of her face, but he doesn’t scratch her. Her chest rises and falls at a rapid rate as she processes what could be her last few moments alive. The Alpha leans forward, sniffing the brunette which makes her dig her nails into her hands to keep from making any sudden movements.

Suddenly he pulls away. She opens her eyes again and it looks as if he’s almost smirking at her. Like he knows who she is. Her mouth falls open as the werewolf growls loudly before running away from her and Jackson. He crashes into the front window panels, making his escape. The only thing Fallon hears is Lydia’s scream before trying to pull Jackson out once more.

—-

Fallon’s eyes are cloudy and distant as she barely tunes into the EMT talking to her. He tries to wrap a blanket around her shoulders but she slowly shakes her head, putting her hands up. “I’m okay,” she mutters lowly. “I just wanna go home.” Her voice sounds broken, like she’s crying but no tears are falling from her eyes. Lydia on the other hand accepts all of the help the paramedics give her. The strawberry blonde is more disheveled than her two counterparts. Jackson has a more angry aura about him. Fallon isn’t surprised that’s his method of coping with the situation. That seems to be his go to when he doesn’t know how to handle things. Not that she can judge. All she’s doing is shutting down which is no help to anyone.

“Paul, let’s get this area locked up.”

Life fills Fallon’s eyes at the familiar voice of Noah Stilinski. She feels a wave of relief wash over her when she sees him walking towards them. Noah’s eyes soften when he sees the terrified teen, “Fall? Are you okay, sweetheart?” He asks gently, pulling her into a hug.

He can feel her shaking in his arms, but she still nods her head, “I’m fine. I just really wanna go home.”

“I know, kiddo,” he whispers. “But you know the drill. They gotta take you to the hospital to make sure there’s nothing seriously wrong.”

“Please?” She begs him. “I feel fine. I really just want to go. You can even take me,” she tries to propose.

He sighs, going to respond but is cut off by an angry Jackson stomping over to him. “Why the hell cant I just go home?” He asks irritably. He’s being asked to go to the hospital as well. “I’m fine.”

“I hear ya,” Noah says calmly. “But the EMT says you and Fallon took some pretty massive hits in there. They just wanna make sure you guys don't have a concussion.”

“What part of "I'm fine" are you having a problem grasping?” Jackson snaps, getting in Noah’s face. “Okay, I want to go home.”

“And I understand that–”

“No, you don't understand that, which kind of blows my mind, since it should be a pretty basic concept to grasp for a minimum-wage rent-a-cop like you! Okay, now, I want to go home!” The blonde screams.

“Jackson,” Fallon scolds him with one glare. “He’s just doing his job. It’s a basic process. I want to go home too, but we have to let them do their thing.”

Jackson goes to argue but their attention is diverted, “Oh, whoa! Is that a dead body?”

Fallon watches as Stiles points to the dead employee, vomit threatening to escape her lips as she sees his limp arm falling out from underneath the white sheet. Sheriff Stilinski sends his son a pointed look, huffing in annoyance, “Everybody back up. Back up,” he instructs.

She looks over at Stiles who seems to be struggling on deciding whether to get back in the car or to run over to his now traumatized best friend. Fallon makes the decision easier as she slowly travels over to him. He looks over her form, his heart breaking when he sees how scared she looks. She practically falls into his arms, wrapping her own around his shoulders. Her body trembles softly as small sobs leave her mouth.

Stiles looks shocked. Fallon isn’t a big crier. Not unless she has a reason. He holds her tightly, pulling her in by her waist. “I got you,” he whispers. “It’s okay, Fall. I’ve got you. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

“It was him,” she managed to whisper. “The Alpha. He was right in front of me, Stiles,” she explains, wiping any evidence of her tears away. “He touched me, smelled me, and then he just ran away.”

He furrows his eyebrows, “What? Why would he–”

“I don’t know,” she answers quickly. “I don’t know why he did any of that. Or why he didn’t kill me and Jackson ‘cause he could have. He had every chance to. It doesn’t make sense.”

A fierce determination lights behind Stiles�� eyes, “Hey, we’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll talk to Scott.” He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, “Just don’t freak out too much, okay? I know you’re scared, but I promise, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“Stiles,” Noah calls out as he walks over to the two kids. Jackson is still complaining loudly making the sheriff sigh and probably have an internal breakdown. “Why don’t you let Fallon sit in the car with you?” He suggests. “As long as you promise that you feel fine,” he says to the girl.

She nods, “I do. I’m alright.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “Then just give me a couple minutes to wrap this up and then I’ll drop you off at home, alright?”

Fallon surges forward, hugging the man again, “Thank you.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

After being dropped off by Noah and Stiles, her father had gotten a long winded explanation on what happened. So when Fallon decided to forgo the movie, Michael was more than understanding. He made her a bowl of popcorn anyway, allowing her to retreat up to her room for some much needed alone time.

She lays on her bed, her laptop quietly playing episodes of Gossip Girl to keep her distracted. She lazily takes a handful of popcorn, putting it in her mouth. She closes her eyes and relishes in the different seasonings and splash of lemon she puts on it. Stiles and Scot have always made fun of that little quirk of hers, but she can’t help loving it.

She tries to focus on the silky smooth voice of Chuck Bass, but the only thing her mind can seem to do is remind her of the dead man in the video store. His mutilated face plagues her mind, no matter how hard she tries to think of something else. She feels a high level of frustration, knowing that she can’t miss school tomorrow. Most of her teachers are understanding, but if she were to miss Mr. Harris’s class, she’d be screwed. He wouldn’t take pity on her even if she was in a full body cast.

Michael tried to talk to her after the Stilinski’s left, but she wasn’t very responsive. He tried to reassure her that nothing like that would ever happen again, but she knows that’s not true. The likelihood of running into the Alpha again, especially with her connection to Scott and Derek is high.

She just wishes she had more information. Like why the Alpha was there. Why did he kill that employee specifically, but spare her and Jackson? She could still see its blood red eyes staring into her soul. The way its claws touched her face made shivers run down her spine. Its hot, stinky breath still lingers on her skin. Did he pick up on Scott’s scent? Maybe Derek’s? She did just have his vomit plastered on her skin not too long ago.

Fallon sits up, staring at the now empty bowl of popcorn in front of her. She frowns, wishing she could still eat away her feelings. The urge to walk into the kitchen and grab a pint of ice cream is strong, but her desire to waste away in her bed rules out. She thought watching Serena and Blair argue for the fortieth time would be enough to make her feel something, but she just didn’t. Either she really is traumatized or she needs sleep.

She shuts her laptop, laying down on her wide array of pillows. She chooses the second option, figuring if the other one is true that she can decide that in the morning. She rubs her tired eyes, everything becoming blurry as sleep threatens to overtake her. Her desk in the distance looks like an oddly shaped blob, different papers scattered around it that she completely forgot about. She glances out the window, the only thing in sight is the stars and towering trees. The small amount of light from the waxing crescent shining through. She feels a sense of serenity, until suddenly the light is blocked by a looming figure standing in the way.

Fallon shoots up from her spot, immediately reaching for the pair of scissors on her night stand. She slowly inches around her bed as the figure opens her window. The glass slides open easily due to her bad habit of always leaving her window unlocked for Scott and Stiles. Right as the stranger sets foot in her room, she launches her entire body, scissors ready to stab whoever it is. A small gasp leaves her mouth as a hand grabs her wrist, spinning her around and pinning her arm behind her back.

She looks behind her, “What the hell?” She furrows her eyebrows, dropping the scissors to the floor. Her back is still pressed to his chest, him holding her in place. “You’re not the Alpha,” she breathes out.

Derek lets her go, gently spinning her around. “You thought I was the Alpha?”

Fallon nods with wide eyes, “Uh, yeah,” she states obviously. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but the thing touched me. He smelled me like I was a five course meal. It’s all I can really think about. So when I see a shadowy figure climbing through my window, that’s gonna be my assumption,” she breathes out, her chest heaving up and down from the adrenaline.

Fallon took the time to look the werewolf up and down. He looks exactly the same as he always does. Tight fitting t-shirt covered by one of his many leather jackets along with a pair of jeans. His hair is black and messy like usual. She never really took the time before to look at it. Maybe that’s what adds to his “stay away” personality. The dark and mysterious hair. She thinks back to the conversation she had with Stiles when Scott was on the bus. She really wouldn’t mind running her hands through it.

She shakes her head of the thoughts when she realizes she’s been just staring at him for an oddly long period of time. She crosses her arms over chest, “What are you doing here?”

Derek shrugs, “I was there with Scott,” he reveals. “I didn’t know you were in there until we saw the EMT’s pull you and Jackson out. I know you saw the body.” She swears his eyes soften for a moment before he asks, “Are you okay?” But she could’ve easily just imagined it. She nods her head silently and he tilts his own, “Can you tell me about what happened?”

She looks apprehensive at first, but ultimately decides it would be best for him to know everything. She sighs, sitting down on her bed. “I was there trying to find a movie for me and my dad,” she begins. Derek hesitantly sits down beside her on the bed, eyes staying on her form. He nods, encouraging her to continue. “Jackson and Lydia ended up being there. He asked for help trying to find The Notebook and I went to go help him. We found it and went to check out and that’s when I found the dead guy,” she explains. “After that Jackson and I ran into a ladder, almost got crushed by a lighting panel, and that’s when we saw the Alpha.”

“You said he smelled you,” Derek brings up. Fallon just nods silently at his words. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” she admits quietly, the crease in her eyebrows becoming deeper. “I’ve been thinking about it. I thought maybe it smelled Scott since he’s a part of his pack and all. Like he has a sensitivity to Scott’s scent or something. But then I thought he might’ve smelled your scent because you kind of threw up all over me the other day,” she nudged him teasingly. “But what freaks me out is that it looked at me like it knew who I was. He had an almost smirk on his face. Like he got off knowing I was scared. I don’t know why he attacked that guy and left me and Jackson alone. I don’t know what his original plan was. Why he didn’t bite either of us,” she shakes her head as she continues to try and figure it out with her own logic. “It didn’t make sense. I mean, maybe he didn’t know who I was, but formed some sort of plan for me on the spot, I don’t know,” Fallon drops her hand into her hands, rubbing her eyes frustratedly.

“You think he might come back for you?”

“God, I hope not,” she laughs humorlessly. “That would be unfortunate.”

“If he bit you?” Derek wonders.

“Well…” Fallon huffs, “I don’t know. If he came back for me and killed me that would kinda suck. But I guess it wouldn’t be the most unfortunate thing if he bit me.” She shrugs, looking Derek in the eye. “It’s not everyday you get the opportunity to have the strength of a superhero.”

“So you’d be okay with it? If he were to try and turn you.” He looks almost perplexed with her outlook on it.

“I wouldn’t say I’d be okay with it, but I wouldn’t be trying to get rid of it like Scott has been,” she says. “I’d probably just be a little nervous.”

“You’re already nervous,” Derek points out.

“Thanks,” she rolls her eyes at his bluntness. “Trust me, I know.”

“But it’s impressive how you’ve been handling it,” he concedes.

She smirks slightly, “Did you just compliment me?” She questions playfully.

Derek rolls his eyes, “No. I’m just giving you credit. Don’t turn it into something it’s not.”

“Well, thanks for the credit that sounded a lot like a compliment,” she flops backwards on her bed, her head hitting the soft mattress with a small smile.

“Did you ever finish the book you were reading in the woods the other day?” He asks, seeming to be genuinely curious. “You looked pretty into it.”

Fallon looks at him, her irises flashing downwards in his direction. She pats the spot next to her, telling him to lay down too. She doesn’t think he’s going to by the unsure expression, but is pleasantly surprised as he lowers himself down. Now they’re both just staring at the ceiling, but for whatever reason, it’s comfortable.

“I did,” she answers. “I finished it the day after. I’m already almost done with the next one.”

“Do you ever not read?”

She nods, “When I’m playing lacrosse. Or studying. Or doing homework,” she lists off. “But other than that, I’m usually reading.”

He moves his head to the side so he can look at her, remaining on his back. “Why do you like to read so much?”

Fallon sighs. She feels herself about to open up and be vulnerable, and she doesn’t like it. It’s not Derek’s fault, it just usually takes a minute for her to say anything personal. Derek can sense her change in mood, “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want,” he says stoically. “I was just wondering.”

“No, it’s okay,” she reassures him, flipping on her side to fully face him. “It’s just something my mom and I used to do a lot when I was a kid. She would bring a small cup of coffee for her and a hot chocolate for me, and we’d just sit at our kitchen table and read while my dad was away,” her eyes turn flicker with bittersweet memories as she recalls that time in her life. “She’s the reason I like to read.”

Derek doesn’t know the story behind Fallon’s mother, but judging by the aroma of sadness filling the room and the fact he’s never seen the woman, he can assume that she’s no longer around. Fallon suddenly feels very awkward at the sad shift in the atmosphere. “Anyway…” she clears her throat, “I’m like ten pages away from finishing The Prisoner of Azkaban, so, yeah. I spend a lot of time with my nose in a book.”

“Most of my family died in a fire,” he says. Fallon stiffens at his words. She already knew that, but he’s never said anything about it. At least not to her. She doesn’t know how to handle him saying something so intimate about himself. “My mom, my siblings. Some of them were human.”

She watches as his jaw clenches in anger, “It was the hunters… wasn’t it?” She asks softly, coming to the conclusion from the previous signs she’s gathered from speaking to him.

He nods, “The Argent’s.”

Then it all clicks, “That’s why you don’t think Scott should trust Allison,” she realizes.

“She’s going to end up just like them,” he stares back at the ceiling. “He’s gonna get himself killed by staying with her.”

“Maybe,” Fallon concedes. “But, maybe not,” she finds herself scooting closer to him. “You can’t determine who a person is just by their family,” she says wisely. “If we did, then we’d all be stuck. Individuality wouldn’t be a thing.” He brings himself to glance back at her as she speaks. “I mean, do you think you’re the same as all your family?”

He hates the fact she’s right. “No,” he answers simply.

“Exactly,” she pokes his side. “Hell, if I was the same as my dad, I wouldn’t be riding my motorcycle. And I love that thing.” She chuckles at her own comparison and Derek just watches as she returns to normal for a split second. Forgetting all that happened to her just a few hours ago. Once she stops laughing, her features soften again. “I am sorry though, Derek,” she tells him quietly. “No one deserves to go through what you have.”

He shrugs, “Nothing I can do about it now.”

“You can talk to someone,” she suggests. By the expression he makes, she can automatically tell that’s never even crossed his mind. “You have talked to someone about this right?”

“No,” he replies. “I’ve never seen a reason to.”

“That explains why you’re so freaking grumpy all the time,” she says. “You’ve seriously never spoken to anyone about it? Like, not even a friend?”

“I don’t have friends.”

A beat of silence washes over them. Fallon frowns at the thought of the man next to her not having anyone to rely on. He’s had to grieve his entire family, alone, for years. She never would have gotten through her moms passing if it wasn’t for her dad, Scott, and Stiles. The two boys might have come a bit after Grace’s passing, but they still helped her through it nonetheless.

She looks at him determinedly, “Well, now you do.”

Derek stares at her as if she has three heads, “What?”

She nods happily, “You said you don’t have friends. So it’s been decided… I’ll be your friend.”

Derek shakes his head, looking away from her. “No. I don’t need friends.”

“You’re getting one anyway,” she insists. “We don’t have to like sit here and tell each other about our day and braid each other’s hair or whatever, but I just want you to know that I’m here,” she explains. “I don’t expect a nightly phone call or anything dumb like that. But at least now you have someone you know you can talk to. Or not talk to, and just sit in brooding silence with,” she grins. “I know that’s more your speed anyway.”

“Why would you want that?” He questions warily. “You already have two idiots as your friends.”

“I can have more than two friends,” Fallon justifies. “And no matter how much you piss me off with your dark and mysterious demeanor, you don’t deserve to go through life alone,” she says seriously. “So it’s settled. We’re friends.”

Derek wants to fight it. He wants to tell her no and that she should be running away from him, not towards him. But there’s something about her. She’s easy to talk to. A little annoying, yes, but not insufferable to be around. He hasn’t even noticed that about an hour has passed since he’s arrived at her home. Having a friend still doesn’t seem like a possibility for someone like him. Everyone he’s ever cared about is gone. He doesn’t want to allow himself to get close to her in order to protect her. But arguing with her seems pointless. Her mind is set.

“Okay,” he nods. “We’re friends.”

Fallon smiles widely, “Good,” she moves up to the head of her bed, dragging him along with her as she grabs all of her Harry Potter books from her nightstand. She looks up at him, “Have you read any of these?”

He glances down at the thick pieces of literature, “No,” he admits. “I was more of a Chronicles of Narnia kind of person.”

“Well, not tonight you’re not,” she places The Philosopher’s Stone in his lap.

The book feels heavy on his legs as he looks at her with amused eyes, “I’m not reading this.”

“Uh, yes, you are,” she insists. “You’re gonna read the first ten pages right now and then you can come back tomorrow and read some more with me,” she tells him. “We can have designated silent reading time. I’ll read mine while you read this one.”

He denies, “No.”

“Yes,” she scoffs.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Please…” she begs him. “Just try it. I promise you’ll like it. And if you don’t, you can force me to read any book of your choosing.”

Derek’s interest piques at the offer, “How do you know I even read?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “Reader’s intuition, I guess.”

Derek shakes his head. He narrows his eyes in consideration. “Fine. I’ll tell you what… I’ll read it. The whole thing.” Fallon’s eyes light up. “But if I don’t like it, I don’t have to read the rest of the books, and you still have to read a book of my choosing.”

“Hm… interesting proposal,” she considers it for a moment before sticking her hand out. “Alright, you got yourself a deal.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon silently works on her essay for English, writing it in her best handwriting as it is the final draft. Her and Stiles are currently in Mr. Harris’ chemistry class. The man just sits at his desk, no doubt grading their last assignment. He sends some disappointed and disturbed glares to certain students when he reaches their paper. Fallon wasn’t worried about it. She never struggled in chemistry. Her hand moves effortlessly from left to right. It surprises her that she hasn’t cramped up yet with how far she’s gotten.

The seat beside her was left empty. She assumes that Jackson didn’t come to school today because of last night's events. She didn’t blame him. But earning a lecture from Mr. Harris about slacking off wasn’t something she was in the mood for. He’s never liked her, and she assumes it’s because of her choice in friends. Not that she would ever care what Harris thinks of her. Truthfully, she finds it satisfying when she proves his snide remarks about her wrong by getting high grades in his class. Watching him fume as he writes a one hundred percent on her paper is the best revenge a girl could ask for.

Fallon huffs annoyed when the teacher finally stands. She was hoping he’d remain seated for at least a couple more minutes so she could finish her final paragraph. Reluctantly, she puts her essay back in her English folder before turning her attention back to Mr. Harris.

He claps his hands as he rounds his desk to address all of his students, “Just a friendly reminder– parent-teacher conferences are tonight! Students below a C average are required to attend. I won't name you, because the shame and self-disgust should be more than enough punishment.”

Parent-teacher conferences. The best and worst night of the school year for some kids. It truly is just a judgment ceremony. An opening for teachers to completely expose the kids who don’t put in a lot of effort. Even though they say it’s only for students with a C average, pretty much every child is forced to go because of their parents. Fallon knows she’ll have to be in attendance. Part of it is because her father loves bragging about how intelligent his daughter is, the second part is because he still doesn’t trust her to abide by the enforced curfew. She’s not worried about her grades in the slightest. Her perfectionism and inability to accept failure has forced her to have straight A’s since she was old enough to be graded by the letter system.

Mr. Harris stops by the desk where Stiles is sitting, the spot next to him empty. “Has anyone seen Scott McCall?” On a side note, Fallon’s pretty mad about that. He allowed Scott and Stiles to sit together after forcibly separating all three of them, but wouldn’t let Fallon move any closer.

Stiles shakes his head at the teacher, indicating he has no idea where their best friend is. The boy then returns to his chemistry book, highlighting every other sentence in a bright yellow. Harris glances at Fallon who simply shrugs in his direction.

The door to the classroom swings open and every eye in the classroom falls on Jackson as he saunters in. He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone, holding onto his backpack strap as tightly as he can. He rushes to his seat next to Fallon, setting his backpack on the floor. Mr. Harris approaches the blonde gently, “Hey, Jackson– if you need to leave early for any reason, let me know.”

Fallon can’t help but scoff as she scribbles down notes in her chemistry book. Harris didn’t even acknowledge her existence until wondering where Scott was. “Everyone, start reading chapter nine,” he instructs. “Mr. Stilinski,” Stiles looks up at the mention of his name, highlighter dangling from his mouth. “Try putting the highlighter down between paragraphs. It’s chemistry, not a coloring book.”

She snickers at her friend’s misfortune, but covers it cup with a cough as Stiles glares daggers at her from across the room. She blows a kiss at him before turning her attention back to her chemistry book, which has the appropriate amount of highlighting in it.

“I’m surprised you came,” Jackson comments quietly.

Fallon turns to him confused, “Why?”

“You seemed pretty shaken up,” he points out. “Just didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“Ditto,” she nods in his direction. “After all that complaining about wanting to go home, I assumed you’d stay there for a couple of days.”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, a certain anger behind his eyes. “I can’t miss class. Not with lacrosse and stuff.”

“Yeah, I feel the same way,” Fallon admits. She notices his hands are still clenched rather tightly. Her lips turn into a frown, “Are you doing okay?” She asks quietly. “You seem… tense.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “Obviously I’m tense. We got attacked by some weird ass creature at a freaking video store, Fallon,” he says through gritted teeth. “We saw a dead guy. The real question is, why aren’t you more tense?”

“I don’t know…” she mumbles. “I guess I slept it off.”

“Slept it off?” He shakes his head with a humorless laugh. “My ass, Donovan. You don’t just sleep something like that off.” He stares directly at her, making her feel like she has to make eye contact with him. “What? Did your doctor dad give you some medical marijuana or something to help you process?”

“Why does everything come down to drugs with you?” She narrows her eyes at him. “Did you ever think that maybe I just talked to someone about it? Like a normal person.”

“Who? McCall?” He asks, clearly digging for more information than just how Fallon coped with last nights ordeal.

“No,” she answers. “And it’s none of your business who I did talk with. All you need to know is that it helps, and maybe you should try it. With your girlfriend perhaps,” she suggests with a sarcastic tone. “Who also happened to be there and could probably use her boyfriend to comfort her.”

“She doesn’t want to talk about it,” Jackson says coldly. “She didn’t even bother coming today. Go figure,” he rolls his eyes bitterly. “She wasn’t even in the damn store and still needed the day off.”

“Everyone processes things differently, Jackson,” Fallon breathes out, not interested in hearing him complain about Lydia, who has been nothing but good to him since they started dating. “She just needs time to recuperate,” she finishes writing down the important information of the chapter, closing the book and putting it in her backpack as the bell rings. “You should probably find a healthy outlet to do the same.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon chases after Stiles once the bell rings, releasing them from Mr. Harris’ classroom. The boy glances at his best friend, a stressed out expression overtaking his face. “Have you seen Scott?” He asks her. “I haven’t seen him and he’s not answering my messages.”

Fallon shakes her head, “No, I haven’t heard from him. I assumed he and Allison took the day off since today’s her birthday,” she reveals thoughtfully. “Lydia asked me to decorate her locker this morning before school.”

“Speaking of, why are you even here?” He questions her. “I don’t know if I’d necessarily be up for tests and homework the day after seeing a dead body.”

“Stiles, you’d be thrilled to go to school after seeing a dead body,” she points out. “In fact, we did go to school after seeing half a dead body.”

“Okay, well, you know what I mean,” he rolls his eyes. “Something crazy happened in that video store and you’re walking around like it’s just another normal morning.”

Fallon goes to respond, but Stiles’ phone ringing prevents her from doing so. “Oh thank God,” he huffs, plugging his headphones into the charging port on his phone, handing Fallon the other earbud before answering Scott’s call.

“What?” Scott asks, tired of the incessant phone calls.

“Finally!” Stiles exclaims. “Have you been getting any of my texts?”

“Yeah, like, all nine million of them…” he says, a bit annoyed.

Fallon shoots Stiles a look, “You really just can’t leave the poor guy alone.”

“We have more important matters to attend to,” Stiles insists. “Do you have any idea what's going on?” He asks Scott. “Lydia is totally MIA, Jackson looks like he's got a time bomb inserted in his face, Fallon for whatever reason is acting totally fine, another random guy's dead, and you have to do something about it!”

“Like what?”

“Something!” Stiles emphasizes.

“Okay,” Scott replies distantly, his mind occupied by other things. “I’ll deal with it later.”

Stiles tries to stop him from hanging up, but it’s too late. Fallon sighs, “You can’t expect him to know how to deal with all of this on his own, Sti,” she says. “We barely even know what to do, so how would he know?”

“He’s that things Beta,” Stiles points out. “And he went after you last night. His priority should be here trying to help us find out why it was there and who it is.”

“Look, I’m with you,” she agrees. “I wanna find out all about the Alpha’s motives, but we can’t force Scott to give up his life just to find the guy. He likes Allison, it is her birthday, just let them have the day to themselves.”

“Okay, I don’t know when you got all freakishly zen, but it’s freaking me out,” Stiles narrows his eyes at her. “Go back to old Fallon.”

“Just because I'm being more rational than you doesn’t mean I’m zen. I’ll still happily punch you in the face.”

Stiles scoffs, “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that violence isn’t the answer?”

“Violence is always the answer,” she pats his back. “That’s why we play lacrosse.”

Stiles can’t help but smile. He shakes his head before turning to her with a more serious matter, “Hey, I was gonna go see Lydia after school today. Y’know, ‘cause she wasn’t here today. I just wanna make sure she’s okay after last night. Do you wanna come?”

Fallon frowns, “I would love to, but I can’t,” she says sadly. “My dad took the night off for parent-teacher conferences. He wants me home right after school so we can ‘spend time together.’ Also known as, ‘keeping me on a leash so I don’t sneak off.’”

“Man, he’s really not letting you off the front porch without him knowing, is he?”

“No,” she laughs irritatedly. “It’s driving me crazy. And after what happened last night, he’s even more on edge. I thought I was in prison before, but forget the curfew. I’m not gonna be allowed out past four at this rate.”

“Luckily, you have me,” he wraps his arm around her. “We’ll find new ways to sneak you out without him knowing.”

“Yeah, I’m sure we will,” she nods. “Just not tonight. I really don’t wanna push my luck.”

Stiles huffs disappointedly, “All right. I won’t force you. I’ll keep you updated on how she’s doing though.”

“Yeah, please do.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon has been home for the past couple hours. She and Stiles have been texting back and forth for the past couple hours, the latter still being stuck on what happened at the video store. She took the alone time to finish off her homework for the week, pick up her room, and get back to reading. She plans on moving on to The Goblet of Fire before she has to leave for parent-teacher conferences. Her attention is diverted when she feels her phone buzz next to her. Stiles’ name pops up on the caller ID and she quickly answers it. Putting it on speaker next to her while she continues reading.

“Fall,” his voice comes through the phone.

“Hey freckles,” she greets. “I thought you were going to Lydia’s?”

“I did,” he huffs, bothered by something. “I left a little bit ago.”

Fallon furrows her eyebrows as she can hear the clear distress in his voice. “Is everything okay? You sound upset.”

He sighs loudly, “I-I don’t know, just– have you heard from Scott at all today? Or maybe Allison?”

“No…” Fallon trails off, her concern growing. “I haven’t heard from him since the call earlier with you. I thought you said he would take care of it. What’s going on?”

“Well–” he tries to say but is cut off by Noah walking into his room. “Hold on, Fall.”

The brunette could hear the entire conversation, chuckling as she remembers a very similar one happening at the Hale house crime scene. She’s envious of Stiles though. He gets to stay home from the conferences this evening.

“Hey, I’m back. You still there?” He asks.

“Yeah,” she nods, getting into a more comfortable position on her bed. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so anxious?”

“Better yet, I’ll show you.” There’s a moment of silence before her phone buzzes again with a text message. “Look at what I sent.”

She goes into her messaging app, opening her text chain with Stiles. She presses the attachment and her eyes widen at the video, “Is that…?” The image of the dead guy flashes through her mind as she watches the Alpha fly through the front store of the window. “Stiles, where the hell did you get this?”

“Lydia’s phone,” he replies. “She had it recording when all of that went down. She kept saying it was a mountain lion.”

“That doesn’t look anything like a mountain lion,” Fallon mumbles, rewatching the video again. “There’s no way we’d be able to explain that.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’ve been trying to get ahold of Scott for the last couple hours, but nothing. I don’t know what to do with this,” she can hear him running a frustrated hand over his face.

“I’m sorry Stiles,” she exhales. “I haven’t heard from him at all.”

“It’s fine,” he grumbles. “Not your fault he’s not answering.”

“Why don’t you just delete it?” Fallon suggests. “That way Lydia won’t have that reminder waiting for her when she opens her camera roll, and we don’t have to explain what we know when she ends up showing it to the police.”

“You think I should?”

“I think that would be the smartest move,” she admits. “Plus, if Scott’s not answering, I think we’re pretty accustomed to making the decision on our own.”

“I just feel like he should at least know about it,” Stiles says nervously.

“You left him a message right?” She asks.

“Not in so many words… I kinda just told him I’d kill him.”

Fallon snorts, “Well, then that shows the severity of the situation. We can always inform him of the full details later,” she smiles into the phone. “Just do what you think is right, Stiles. You have good judgment. You always do. I trust your gut more than anything.”

“Really?” He wonders hopefully.

“Yeah,” she confirms gently.

He nods, “Alright, thanks Fall. I’ll talk to you later, alright? Let me know how the conference goes.”

“I will. Bye Sti.”

She hangs up the phone before picking up her book and finishing the last two pages. She reaches over to her nightstand, grabbing the fourth book of the series and opening the first page. She reads for about thirty minutes until a few loud thuds are heard on her roof. She furrows her eyebrows, looking upwards. It’s silent again for a moment so she shakes her head, assuming it was nothing. At least until a bigger crash got her attention.

Up on the roof was none other than Derek Hale. The man is shirtless and out of breath as he clambers down to her window. Kate and a few other hunters had broken into his home, trying to get him to tell them who the Alpha was. If he truly knew, he wouldn’t be relying on Scott to help track him. Once they found out just how clueless he was, they tried to kill him, so he ran. At the time he wasn’t exactly sure where he’d run, not like he had many options to choose from in the first place.

He did have one option, hence why he’s here now. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but he felt as if he didn’t have a choice. It was either this or fend for himself in the woods.

As he lowers himself to the window, he’s met with the concerned eyes of Fallon Donovan. Once she sees who it is, she’s quick to open up the window, allowing him entrance into her room. She’s shocked to see him shirtless, but recovers in enough time to shut the window and close her curtains. By his hurried state, she assumes that someone may be after him.

“Derek?” She asks, trying to catch her breath from the speedy ordeal. “What happened? What are you doing here?” She walks up to him, seeing a small bruise on his side slowly fading as he pants.

“Hunters…” he manages to get out. Fallon walks over to her mini fridge, grabbing a bottle of water for the werewolf. She opens it, handing it to him. He accepts it gratefully, taking a large swig of it before continuing. “They showed up to my house. Wanted to know about the Alpha,” he explains. “I didn’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“Oh my God,” she says shocked. “Are you okay– Actually, don’t answer that. Obviously you’re not okay. Sorry, that was a dumb question,” she shakes her head at her own idiocy. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” She turns around and walks into her closet, searching for one of the big shirts she’s taken from her dad to sleep in. She finds a faded blue Superman t-shirt and deems that good enough. She walks back out to him, the man seemingly analyzing her room more in depth. “Here.”

“Thanks,” he nods, slipping the shirt over his head. It’s a tight fit, but she noticed that most of his shirts aren’t exactly loose on his chiseled form.

“Do you need anything else?” She asks him. “More water? Food? A Xanax?” She smiles slightly.

Derek sends her a pointed look but shakes his head, “No, I’m fine.”

“Well, I have some small snacks and water bottles in the fridge if you ever change your mind,” she tells him. “Also, if you need to shower or use the restroom, it’s right through that door,” she points to the one right next to her closet.

“I don’t think I’ll be here for that long.”

She turns to him, a worried expression taking over her face. “Derek, I don’t think you should go back out there anytime soon. Just stay here.”

“That’s not a good idea,” he denies. “I don’t think your dad would take too kindly to finding me in your room.”

She waves him off, “He never comes in here. Plus, we’re going to the parent-teacher conferences in like ten minutes. So you’ll have the entire house to yourself.” She walks closer to him, “I’d rather you stay here until we know it’s safe. They obviously know where you live, so it would be better for you to stay here anyway.”

“Fallon!” Michael calls out from the hallway. Derek tenses and gets ready to head for the window, but the smaller brunette grips his arm. He stares down at her hand, then back up to her. He sends a menacing glare her way, but she doesn’t even acknowledge it. She simply keeps her hand encased around his wrist. She’s cold against his warm skin. It’s almost a shock to his system with how large their temperature difference is.

“Yeah, dad?” She responds.

“We gotta go kiddo! I’ll be in the car.”

“Okay!” She says, waiting till she’s sure he’s fully down the stairs before talking to Derek again. Her eyes meet his and she still hasn’t bothered removing her hand from his arm. “Like I said, there’s water and stuff in here. If you get hungry, we should have leftover lasagna in the fridge from yesterday. If you’re not feeling that, feel free to order takeout. There’s some cash in my sock drawer on the side of my bed.”

“I’m not–”

“Don’t argue with me,” she cuts him off sharply. “You’re staying here until I get back and then we can discuss whether or not it’s safe for you to leave. Order yourself something and relax. If you wanna watch something, the password to my computer is 8-1-2-0-4. And before you ask, yes that’s the day I met Scott and Stiles.”

Derek sits there silently and lets her ramble. He quirks an eyebrow, “You done?”

“Yes,” she breathes out. “I’m done.”

She waits for a moment, the two of them only staring at each other. Derek takes a step which puts her on edge, ready to stop him from escaping. But to her surprise, he takes a seat on her bed, grabbing the book she gave him the night before. He holds it up to her, “I’ll make myself busy.”

A small smile etches onto her face, “Okay,” she nods. “I’ll be back in a few hours. And if I come back and you’re not here, I swear to God, I don’t need werewolf senses to hunt your ass down and beat you up,” she threatens.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

She rolls her eyes at his mocking tone, “Whatever. Just– stay here, okay?”

He slowly kicks off his shoes, maintaining eye contact. “Does it look like I’m going anywhere?”

“Okay smartass,” she grumbles. “I’ll be back.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Arriving at the school, Fallon is already wishing the night was over. She crosses her fingers, hoping this all goes by quickly so she can get home before Derek decides to take off. She and her father walk side by side into the school, walking by all of her classes. They get through her first three periods without an issue. Her English teacher adores her, her creative writing teacher thinks she could have a future in literature, and her AP Algebra teacher believes she should be placed into Calculus next year rather than Pre-Calculus so she can have her math credits out of the way sooner.

Michael is proud. He grins down at his daughter, patting her back after every compliment. They all talk about how dedicated she is, how it amazes them she balances so many extracurriculars on top of having one of the highest GPAs in the school. She honestly doesn’t even know how she does it. Especially with the recent events going on in her life. The ratio of coffee intake to sleep at this point is about ten to one.

Fallon winces when she realizes the next teacher they have to go see is Mr. Harris. She glances up at her father, “I just want you to know before we go in there to take everything he says with a grain of salt,” she advises. “He’s a miserable, grouchy, angry man who takes pleasure in ruining teenagers' lives… He also hates me, Scott, and Stiles, so.”

Michael raises an amused eyebrow, “Duly noted.”

The moment they walk into the classroom, Mr. Harris stands from his spot and the semi-pleasant expression he was wearing fades slightly at the sight of the brunette girl. He covers it quickly with a fake smile as he walks directly to Michael, “Mr. Donovan, it’s a pleasure to officially meet you.”

Fallon rolls her eyes, something her father takes notice of. He holds back his own chuckle as he shakes the man’s hand, “Nice to meet you as well, Mr. Harris. I’ve heard absolutely wonderful things about you.”

Fallon fights the urge to stare at her father, mouth agape. Michael just smirks as he watches his daughter shift uncomfortably. “Really?” The teacher asks surprised, looking in between the father-daughter duo. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. Please, take a seat.” He gestures to the chairs in front of his desk.

The two of them take their respective spots as Mr. Harris opens a personal file on the girl in front of him. He reads over it for a moment before looking up. “First off, I just want to start by saying how great of a student Fallon is. Her assignment’s are always done with the utmost precision and turned in on time, if not a few days early. She’s very dedicated to her studies as well as being a star athlete on our lacrosse team as I’m sure you know.” Michael nods along, having heard this same spiel less than fifteen minutes ago. “Not to mention, she’s very involved in the arts. She’s an active participant in the theatre program through her drama class as well as our creative writing program. She will have no issues getting into the college of her choosing with these accolades behind her.”

Fallon is slightly surprised by the amount of praise she’s getting from the man. That is until he closes the file and folds his hands together like that was just the opening act to an even bigger production. She can tell by the disgusted quiver in his lip exactly where this is going to go.

“However, I am slightly worried about her social development as she seems to surround herself with individuals who don’t quite match her potential.”

Michael feigns surprise, “Really? How so?”

“I assume you know about her friendship with Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall, correct?” He asks.

“I do.”

“Well, I feel as though the two boys are holding her back,” Harris states bluntly. “They distract her. I’ve already had to separate them once this semester and they still seem to find ways to interact and disrupt my class.” There’s a hint of unprofessionalism in his voice, his own vendetta against Stiles and Scott showing. “I would just hate to see someone as bright as Fallon throw her future away on something as trivial as a high school friendship.”

If steam could be leaving her ears, it would be. Fallon is fuming, absolutely livid. She’s been friends with Scott and Stiles since moving to Beacon Hills. Their friendship is not trivial or confined to the simplicities of high school. What they have goes beyond all of that.

“Mr. Harris,” Michael leans forward, crossing his right leg over the left. “I appreciate your input on the people my daughter surrounds herself with, I do. But I assure you, Stiles and Scott are not an issue in my daughter's life. From what I’ve seen, they’ve helped her adjust and grow into the woman sitting here today, and I will not tolerate any slander against those two boys. You may not like their behavior, but you must remember that you chose to teach high school students as your career. If you did not expect to have rambunctious teenage boys in your class, then I am afraid you chose the wrong profession.” Fallon’s jaw drops as her father eloquently puts Harris in his place. “I do hope you find a better way of addressing their behavioral issues with their parents rather than implying they’re bad people.” Michael stands from his spot, “Thank you for your time… Fallon,” he nods towards the door, indicating it’s time for them to leave.

The two of them walk out, not giving Mr. Harris a chance to utter another word. Fallon waits till there far enough down the hallway before jumping up and down and smacking her father’s arm. “That was amazing!” She squeals. “Agh, I can’t wait to tell Scott and Stiles. Harris is gonna be pissed when we go back to class.”

“Language,” Michael laughs.

“I can’t help it!” She swings her arms happily. “I feel like I’m floating after that. I mean, did you see how red his face got? Priceless.”

Michael shakes his head, simply wrapping his arm around Fallon’s shoulder as they continue visiting the rest of her teachers. Michael’s and Fallon’s favorite conference had to be with Coach Finstock. They might have gotten five minutes in about Fallon’s grades before turning solely to lacrosse. They couldn’t stop snickering at the man’s enthusiasm. He might’ve let a couple of insults about Stiles slip, but it was all in good nature… they hope.

Finally, the evening was over. Michael and Fallon walk towards the exit doors, pushing them open as they get ready to head to their car. “I’m proud of you, kiddo,” he pats her back.

She smiles up at him, “Thanks dad.”

That’s when the Donovan’s notice Melissa McCall walking up to them. They both smile in her direction, Michael pulling the woman in for a hug as a greeting. Fallon notices the worried look on her face. She seems to be in a rush, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.

“Hey guys!” She greets as cheerfully as possible before turning her attention to the young brunette. “Fallon, have you seen Scott at all? Mr. Harris told me that he didn’t show up to school today.”

Fallon shakes her head, “No, I haven’t seen him. I think he might’ve went out with Allison since today’s her birthday,” she says honestly.

Melissa frowns, “Allison? The girl he went to that party with?”

“Yeah,” Fallon nods. “I think they’re dating so he wanted to do something special for her.” Her eyes catch Victoria Argent’s bright red hair, both her and Chris gave the exact same expression as Melissa. Clearly, they haven’t heard from Allison at all either. “Those are her parents,” she points in that direction. “I can take you over there if you want.”

“That would be great,” Melissa nods. “Thank you sweetheart.”

“Alright, well, I’ll let you handle this Fall,” Michael kisses the top of her head. “I’ll be in the car all right?”

“Okay,” she agrees before looping her arm through Melissa’s and escorting her over to the Argent’s.

“Excuse me,” Fallon begins politely. Chris and Victoria turn, their expressions softening when they see who it is. “Hi Mr. and Mrs. Argent, um, this is Melissa McCall, Scott’s mom. I figured since both Allison and Scott weren’t at school today, and they’re not answering their phones, that you might have some things to talk about.”

Victoria’s face hardens once more as she looks at Melissa with distaste, “You’re his mother?”

Melissa scoffs slightly, “Funny how you say that like it’s an accusation…” she comments defensively.

The sudden shift in atmosphere makes Fallon feel awkward for being there in the first place. Chris tilts his head, “Well, I wouldn't claim it as a source of pride, since he basically kidnapped my daughter today.”

“Kidnap isn’t exactly the word I’d use–” Fallon tries to diffuse the situation.

“How do we know that skipping school wasn’t your daughter’s idea?” Melissa crosses her arms.

“My daughter–” Chris tries to talk but that’s when Fallon sees a sheepish looking Allison and Scott approaching them, both of them already knowing how much trouble they are in.

“Is right there,” Fallon finishes, nodding in the direction of the two teens.

Melissa wastes no time in storming over to her son. Victoria and Chris share an angry yet disappointed look before also approaching their daughter. Fallon simply shoves her hands into her pockets, and when she notices Scott looking at her, she makes a bomb explosion with her hands accompanied by her own sound effects. He rolls his eyes at her childish behavior and she smirks before walking over to the parking lot. She looks at her watch, seeing as it’s only eight-thirty she hopes Derek hasn’t taken off yet.

Right as her sneaker clad foot hits the black asphalt of the lot, a blood curdling scream erupts from one of the women leaving the school. Fallon’s head snaps towards the direction of the sound, her body suddenly becoming hyper aware of her surroundings. Indistinct yelling is heard from the crowd as people push through each other trying to get to their cars. She spins on her heel, trying to discover the cause of all the commotion when another couple of girls begin screaming and running in the opposite direction of where they were standing.

Fear. That’s all Fallon could see. Everyone seems to be running for their lives from something the brunette doesn’t even know about. She jumps slightly when a small thud catches her attention. Something just hit the car next to her. Her heartbeat quickens as she scrambles to get away from the vehicle. She tries to look for her dad and their car, but can’t see anything over the panicked people.

“Fallon!” Allison screams, running over to the girl. She grips onto her arm, “Have you seen Scott?” She asks worriedly. “I-I lost him when the first girl screamed. I don’t know where he is.”

Fallon shakes her head, trying to pull Allison away from the car she was just standing next to. The sound of nails scratching against pavement causes the hairs on her neck to stand up. The only thing she can think of is the Alpha. “I don’t know where he is,” she answers. “I thought he was with Melissa.”

“No, we stayed together when everyone started running out of the school,” Allison explains, her nails digging into Fallon’s skin.

“It’s okay,” she reassures the girl. “We’ll find him.”

A small yelp leaves their mouths as one of the cars they were weaving through shakes due to something colliding with it. Fallon immediately starts dragging Allison out of the parking lot and back towards the school. They move backwards, trying to cross the main driving lane to exit the school when suddenly a flashing light blinds the two.

“Allison!”

Suddenly Allison was gone from Fallon’s side. She panics, trying to find the girl but it’s too late. The brunette’s body is launched about five feet from where she stood as a car hits her roughly. She crashes to the ground, her head hitting the gravel with a loud bang. Her vision blurs, a deafening ringing all she’s able to hear. All she can see is blobs of people running over top of her trying to escape.

She lays still on the ground, not a sound coming from her. Someone would probably think she was dead. At least until a throbbing pain shoots up her leg and into her side. She groans loudly, trying to keep the tears at bay as her hearing and vision finally come back into focus. Something is definitely wrong. Scott and Allison appear, both of them standing over her with worry filling their eyes.

Allison is quick to put pressure on certain points and judging by the pained scream she could easily identify the problem. “It’s broken,” she whispers to Scott. “Help me get her up.”

Fallon bites her tongue so hard that she draws blood as her two friends try to drag her over to the pavement. Scott mutters multiple different apologies to his best friend, guilt filling his body at the sight of Fallon in pain. He just saw the car coming and his mind immediately went to saving Allison.

They set her down gently the same time a gun goes off. They all look in the direction of the shooter, seeing Chris Argent standing tall with a determined look on his face. Everyone halts their movements after the shots rang out, walking over to see what exactly was terrorizing the crowd.

Fallon couldn’t see much as her mind was too preoccupied with the pain in her leg. But what she did catch a glimpse of, laying dead with a bullet wound, was a mountain lion. A real, actual mountain lion. Not the Alpha she thought it was.

“Michael!” Scott yells as Fallon’s father comes barreling forward, eyes blown wide.

“What the hell happened?” He asks, kneeling down to his daughter.

“A car hit her,” Allison answers. “I’m pretty sure her leg is broken.”

That’s when Melissa comes rushing over as well as a limping Noah Stilinski. Michael looks up at the sheriff, “We need an ambulance here, now.”

So much for making it back before Derek left.

#derek hale #stiles stilinski #lydia martin #scott mccall #teen wolf #allison argent #chris argent #female reader #jackson whittemore #love story #melissa mccall #noah stilinski #teen wolf season 1 #derek hale x reader #derek hale imagine #derek hale fanfiction

18 notes · View notes