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godmadeaterribleerror · 5 months ago

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Hold You Tight In My Mind

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Love Confessions, Smut (p in v, blowjobs, kinda fingering), soft angst, injury, hurt/comfort, demon possession, friends-with-benefits to lovers.

Summary/Warnings: You and Dean have an agreement. Best friends who have sex, no strings attached. But when a case goes south, you learn a few things about Dean, specifically his thoughts on the arrangement.

Maybe you won't have to love him in silence after all.

Author's Note: Kinda request from @brtodd!! Nothing I love more than a good old love confession, enjoy!

Title from Terrance Loves You by Lana Del Ray

Word Count: 8.5k

That’s a lot of blood. You’ve spent nights in motels stitching wounds and lost yourself on the side of the highway shouting for help, your guts half spilled on the pavement, but you’ve never seen that much blood.

“Son of a bitch, that’s a lot of blood.”

Dean, apparently, hasn’t seen this much blood either.

“Should we, um,” you scan over the tile floor, your nose slightly scrunched. “Should we take a picture for Sam?”

“Yeah, he should see this shit too-“

“No, Dean,” you give him a flat look. “For the case. To help him figure out what the hell this thing is.”

Dean gives you a bright, boyish grin and nod of approval. “Good thinkin’, in case he gets mad at us-“

“Gets mad at you,” you correct, moving to stand at Dean’s shoulder as he takes the photo. “I’m not a part of this. I just wanna go home.”

Dean shrugs. “We all wanna go home, Sweetheart. Hell, I’ve got a wife and kids- Shit-“

He doubles over slightly from your elbow in his ribs, and you roll your eyes.

“You have a fake wife and kids. And your fake wife,” you jab your thumb at your own chest. “Doesn’t want her fake brother-in-law to kill her.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Dean’s never allowed to have fun.” He mutters, rubbing his side. “And Sammy wouldn’t kill ya’-“

“He’d kill my fake husband.” You pout at Dean, placing a hand over your heart. “And that would kill me.”

Dean chuckles, rising back to his full height. “I love it when you pretend that you care about me. Makes me warm and fuzzy.”

You roll your eyes, hoping he can’t see the low flush on your face. “You’re an asshole.”

“I know.” He shrugs. “You’re into it, though. C’mon, we gotta see if there’s actually a body in here, or Sam’ll kill both of us.”

Dean trudges off through the lake of blood, and you have to shake your head slightly to clear it. This case is going to kill you. This is so fucking gross, and the longer you’re here—in this room, in this town, on this case—the sicker you feel.

And it’s not just the blood. It’s all of this. It’s the haughty country club patrons who are downright impossible to properly interrogate, it’s the extra fancy clothing you have to wear for the investigations, and the shitty little tea cakes that the club serves. Tea cakes that you can feel your stomach growling for, because you haven’t had a chance to eat all day, and that only makes you feel worse. As every hour passes, you only feel more and more sick. You only spiral into starving mess that needs either food or Dean.

And that just makes you ill. Every time you look at Dean and hear him say wife, you want to strangle him then kiss him and it’s exhausting. Because you’d walked into this stupid fucking country club with a plan that would’ve worked fine—Sam’s your driver because he drew the short stick, Dean’s your bodyguard, you’re some fancy heiress looking to spend some money—and everything went sideways the moment the front desk asked how many household members, and Dean said four. Dean said that he was your husband, and you have kids, and that he knows he’s punchin’ above his weight class, but damn him, he can’t feel bad about it.

You want to hate him for that. You want to throttle him for how he’s treating this like it’s casual and easy, like every time he says wife it’s not so quietly cruel to your heart. How it flutters and glows before withering, because you’ll never have that. Dean always says wife with a teasing voice and nudge of your shoulder, and you can only grin at him like it’s not killing you, reminding you of what you can’t have.

But you can’t hate Dean. You don’t really know how to hate Dean. And he doesn’t know that this is like torture, because he really thinks you’re happy with this. Not just the fake wife thing—because you are playing into it, trading the same taunts and jokes and grins—but the very real, no-strings-attached fuck-buddies arrangement you have. Have had for fucking years. The one where you’ll follow him to the ends of the earth and never, ever look back to see what you’d left behind, but all he’s asking is that you stay in his bed and let him fuck you when he asks.

It’s not a bad arrangement. He’s a sex god, he gives as good as he gets, and you’re technically exclusive, but it’s still not what you want. Crave. Desire more than you’ve ever desired anything.

Because you really just want all of Dean. Something he’s never offered anyone‚ will certainly never offer you, and you’re going to chase until it kills you. You’ll warm Dean’s bed and touch his body for as long as you’re allowed, and cling to these small deaths of maybe this could be real until they all finally catch up to your heart. You’ll gather small offerings he drops in your lap without knowing—you’re the only person he looks at, and his eyes don’t seem to stray, and he’s the one who decided you should be fake married—and build a shrine to him along your ribs he’ll never be allowed to see.

But his voice still haunts your dreams with words you feel over your skin where he’s touched you before. Words you’ve heard a million times—so pretty, sweetheart, good girl—and words you’ll never hear. Words that circle your brain and bang on your skull all the fucking time, even in this disgusting, haunting mess of blood. Words that make some small part of you spark whenever you hear Dean’s deep, strong voice say your name, because you’re a little pathetic and you can’t stop praying that he’ll say them. He won’t. He never does.

He calls your name, and that spark kicks up your spine, and he still doesn’t say them.

“I got it!” He sounds so proud, and you hate that it makes you smile. “We’re looking at a demon!”

You turn, pushing through the blood to join Dean at where he’s standing at a fireplace, running his finger over the mantle with a twisted expression of disgust.

“Sulfur?” You ask, stopping as close to his side as he can manage, and he shoots you a grin, holding up a bloodied—but blackened—finger.

“Bingo, Sweetheart.” He winks, obviously missing your open, wanting gape at him as he looks back to the mantle. “Nasty son of bitch, though, I’ve never seen one of those douchebags do this.”

Dean gestures around the room, and you hum an agreement.

“So we’re good?” You ask, standing slightly on your toes to survey the sulfur buildup. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Dean pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I’m gonna call my wife, tell her I’ll be home for dinner-“

You whack his arm, and he laughs like a handsome, cocky fucking asshole you still can’t figure out how to hate.

“Your wife is starving, and tired of standing in blood.” You kick your foot through the mess, wrinkling your nose. “Can we please go?”

“I dunno, I think this is kinda romantic.” Dean gives you a shit-eating grin, and you swallow. “I mean, this is freakin’ gross, but it’s just us and all these guts, I think we could waste some time-“

“Shut up.” You shove him, and he doesn’t stop grinning at you. “Haul ass, Winchester, or you’ll be in the fake doghouse.”

He chuckles, rebalancing in a second. “You’re being a little dramatic, kid-“

“Don’t kid me, Dean Winchester, I’m your fake wife. I gave birth to your fake kids-“

“You’ve got some good points,“ Dean drawls your name, pulling you right against his chest, and suddenly the smell of metallic blood is nothing compared to the leather and whiskey and gunpowder of Dean. The sticky heat of the room is overtaken by the heat in your core, the heat of Dean’s breath as he lowers down to kiss right behind your ear, his voice dropping to a deep, teasing growl. “And I’m gonna real fuck you when we get back to the motel. But I gotta call Sam and catch him up, can you-“

You nod, reaching into his pocket to grab the keys, and force yourself not to look back as you leave. You wince slightly as you lean into the Impala—starting the car before rising back up and leaning against the door—but it’s not like she’s never been covered in blood before. This just… a lot more blood than usual.

Dean takes a year to join you, and when he walks out of the building he’s smirking, spreading his arms in a wide aren’t you happy to see me? gesture.

“Sam’s workin’ it.” He stops right in front of you, too close and never close enough. “Can I buy a pretty lady a beer?”

“You can buy her some food.” You cross your arms, grinning up at him. “I saw a drive-thru down the road, we shouldn’t go inside looking like this.”

“Smart.” He places his hand on your lower back, guiding you around the car and into the passenger’s seat, and just being so fucking impossible as he opens the door and helps you inside. “Greasy fast-food for me and my girl, comin’ right up.”

You have to learn how to hate him. You have to learn how to flip Dean off and mean it, how to not flush and giggle like a schoolgirl with a crush under his attention. He doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t know how to mean it, but it still makes your lower gut warm and your face split into a wide, stupid grin when he calls you my girl, drawls your name in the car, and rests his hand on your knee as you pull through the ordering window. When he parks in the lot and you laugh together, his eyes rarely leaving yours and his smile never falling from his face.

Even when he gets out to use the bathroom—promising he’ll be fast and try, somehow, not to draw attention to how he’s soaked in blood—Dean still grins and winks at you, and you can’t figure out how to shove his chest and shout that this is mean. That he’s mocking you and stringing your heart up on wires to play with, and he can’t be expected to know that but this is so fucking mean. He needs to stop smiling at you, and stop saying wife all the time like it’s real when it’s not. It won’t be, it can’t be, and now that’s going to haunt you forever.

You sit there for long, lonely minutes while Dean’s gone, trying get as little blood as you can on the upholstery, because Dean had already started grumbling about how much work this is gonna be to clean up and you can’t bring yourself to make anything harder for him. You spiral through the sound of Dean calling you my girl and promising to fuck you, sit in the ghost of his big, warm hand on your body and his chest pressed right against your breasts. The gleam in his eyes that was full of promises, and the fantasy of all the plans he might have for that aforementioned fucking.

Then you hear his phone ring, and you frown. Dean almost never forgets his phone in the car, even if he’s just getting beer or paying for gas. It’s a hazard, to not have it. To not be able to reach you or Sam if he needs to, for you and Sam to not be able to reach him.

And he’s been gone a while. Long enough that your throat starts to form a small lump, and—when you pick up the call—your voice is a little unsteady, your attention on where Dean had disappeared into the building.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, hey.” Sam says your name through the speaker, his tone a little surprised. “Where’s Dean?”

“Bathroom.” You frown at the building, desperate for Dean to just appear, and soothe this horrible twisting in your gut. “What’s up?”

“I figured out what we’re looking at.” You can hear some papers shuffling on Sam’s end, his words slow and careful. “Special kind of demon that feeds off of lustful blood, which explains why he’s been going after all those rich people. Like, ten ladies and five dudes have tried to sleep with me this week, and I know you and Dean got that, uh, offer-“

“Sam.” You mutter, your eyes still on the building. “Can we exercise it?”

“Kind of. We can’t use the normal one, because it’s not a normal demon, but there is a way. And these guys seem to be capable of being injured, more dependent on their vessels or something. So-“

“If we find him we can knock him down,” you mutter. “Hold him until we figure out how to flush him out.”

“Exactly. And I’m trying to work on the flushing part,” Sam sighs, and you can picture his sheepish expression. “But I don’t have it yet. Are you-“

“We’re coming back soon. Do you want us gone a little while longer, so you can focus-“

“No, Dean told me about all the blood. Sounded gross.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “It was. But-“

“I’ll take the car, need to stop at the library anyway.” Sam says your name through the phone, and there’s a sound of pity in it that makes you curl slightly into yourself. “You and Dean can shower, relax, do, uh, whatever you do-“

You sigh. “Please don’t give me permission to fuck your brother, dude. It’s weird.”

“Yeah.” Sam chuckles through the static. “Sorry. I just know he’s been trying to get you alone-“

“He’s always trying to get me alone.” A dumb smile takes over your face as Dean reappears, and he’s fine. Still covered in blood, but grinning at you with a dizzying joy and gleam in his eyes. “I’ll tell him what we’ve got, and text us when you’ve got the exorcism.”

“Will do. Call me if you need anything, or if, uh, I should stay away longer-“

“Suck my dick.”

You end the call as Sam laughs, and look up to find Dean tapping on your window with a smirk. You blink at him, because he might be covered in more blood than before. There’s a bruise on his forehead that wasn’t there a second ago, his shirt is on backwards, and his jacket is drenched, but he’s look at you like he won the lottery, and you’re not sure what the hell is going on.

“Dean,” you frown at him as you roll the window down, your brow furrowed as he braces an arm on the roof of Baby. “Are you-“

He cuts off your words by ducking down, grabbing your chin, and pulling you into a long, mind-numbing, sloppy kiss that leaves you gaping and dumb. Your fingers curling in his shirt, his low chuckle rolling through your body as he pushes his tongue down your throat, the taste of Dean—lingering burger and sweet soda and salt for your food, plus something innately Dean that’s heady and always leaves a perfect aftertaste on your tongue whenever he kisses you—overtaking the taste of blood just enough override your sense of this is kinda gross, and make you pull him closer.

When Dean pulls back—leaving you starting at him, your breathing ragged and heart trying to escape your chest as he grins at you—he grins at you, his voice a gravely promise.

“You ready to head back, darlin’?”

You blink at him. He’s never called you darling. Darling doesn’t sound like a Dean word. “Uh, yeah, but are you feeling okay? You were in there a while-“

“Food didn’t sit right,” he shrugs, drawing back up with a last wink. “Trust me, Sweetheart, it ain’t gonna be an issue anymore. I’m all flushed out.”

He rounds the car, and you watch him move with a frown. That’s the Dean swagger-walk, but it’s longer, with almost no urgency. Dean always walks with a least a little urgency, and he calls you Sweetheart but not darlin’, and something is still squeezing around your throat and telling you something’s wrong, when Dean’s right here. He’s winking at you from the driver’s seat, driving with the same cool ease Dean always has behind the wheel, and talking to you like he always does. Like your every word is fascinating and amusing, and you could say the grossest thing in the world but he’d still call you adorable.

You hate that he does that. It’s perfect and painful, feeding that shrine over your ribs, and almost enough to distract you from how weird he’s being. How he doesn’t seem at all interested to hear about the blood demon, how his first clarification is so Sam’s gonna leave us in the motel, and how he’s growing bolder with his hand on your leg. Trailing fingers lazily up your thigh and grinning when he brushes over the apex of your thighs, chuckling at your small gasp.

“Think we’re ready for that fuckin’, Sweetheart?” He drawls, pulling into the motel lot. “You sure seem real needy-“

“We’re not having sex, Dean, there’s a demon on the loose-“

“A demon Sammy’s handlin’.” He shrugs. “And I’ve been tryin’ to get you alone all freakin’ week. C’mon, we deserve some time together.“ Dean leans forward, smirking at you. “And I know you want it, babygirl. I bet you’re real fuckin’ wet for me.” He reaches up to your face, running his thumb over your lower lip. “So pretty, darlin’-“

There it is again. Darling. Darling, and the excessive drawling, and the slow walk, and the glint in his eyes you’re only now noticing. It’s colder than how Dean ever looks at you. It’s shallow and crude, like he can’t see anything past a pretty face and body, when Dean is—above all else—your friend. When there’s always a shining light when he looks at you that—both amazingly and awfully—reminds you that you’re more than just a body, and he mostly sees you as the best friend he’s ever had. The one he can do this with, because you care about each other too much to complicate things, and who he’ll always respect.

And this doesn’t feel respectful. It doesn’t feel like Dean. His hands are touching you, but there’s something off about them. Dean would be tracing his fingers over your inner thigh, not moving any further until your either grabbed his hand and moved it for him, or downright pleaded for him to touch you. He’d be disgusted by keeping your bloodied clothing in Baby for even a second more, and choose to back you against the motel wall instead of whatever this is. He’d let you get a word in, for your mock sparring and teasing that he always seems to win.

He would’ve worked in a joke about wanting to fuck his wife, because she can be a real brat when he neglects her. And you’d have smacked his chest, and he’d have laughed, raising his brows and saying see? She gets all bitchy and dramatic when I don’t fuck her right.

But Dean’s not doing that right now. And when you reach over the seat, trailing your hand up his chest in a pretend gesture of need, you feel it.

Warm, sticky blood that’s fresh, and seeping through his shirt. Pouring from a wound you can feel the dip of, that somehow doesn’t make him flinch when you press slightly on it.

A wound right over his anti-possession tattoo.

You move before the demon—not Dean, this isn’t Dean, and you feel fucking ill—can register what’s happening. You pull one of the Impala’s random guns out from the glove compartment, thank a God who’s obviously not listening that it’s weighed and heavy, and ram the butt of it into Dean’s temple. Not hard enough to kill him—you do want your Dean back after this— but hard enough to knock him out. To buy you enough time to grab his by the neck of his jacket and drag him out of the impala. You kick open the motel room door, scream to Sam for help, and haul him into a chair. Sam ties him down, while you take long, deep breathes, and your words are soft and short when you finally manage to speak.

“He’s possessed.” You whisper, starting at the floor. “They carved through the tattoo.”

“Shit,” Sam starts to pace, and there’s a ringing in your ears that makes it hard to hear him. “It’s-“

You nod. “The blood demon.”

“Are you good to stay here?” Sam marches over to the table and shoving his laptop into his bag. “I’ll go to the library, find what we’re looking for, and call you when I’ve got it. Okay?”

You nod, trying not flinch at Sam’s sympathetic pat of your shoulder, and stare at Dean as Sam leaves. You feel vile. That’s not Dean, but it’s Dean’s body. Dean will still be injured when you get this piece of shit out of his body. He’ll still be covered in bloody, disgusting clothing, and he’ll remember you knocking him out. He’ll ask questions that you’ll have to answer, about how you knew. And you’ll have to tell him that you just did. You’ll leave out the part about how you have every piece of him memorized to worship, so that even if the demon had tried a little harder to pretend to be Dean, you probably still would have caught on. You’d recognizes Dean’s bones in the grave. You’d recognize his voice in space. You’d recognize him just fucking near you if you were being waterboarded and flayed alive. And you’ll have to look him in the eyes and say the painfully basic and obscuring answer of I just did, and that will hurt.

But you have time to practice. The demon’s still knocked out in Dean’s body, and Sam’s taking too long to figure this out, but you don’t have anywhere to be. You can tug Dean’s jacket off his body with a mumbled apology he can’t hear, and busy yourself trying to clean it. You can’t stop looking at him—battered, vulnerable, his face so painfully slack—and the warm, soap-covered cloth isn’t enough to keep you from spiraling. From flinching as the blood, Dean’s blood, becomes red bubbles, and trying to convince yourself that this isn’t going to be so impossibly horrible. That, maybe, the demon just won’t wake up, and you won’t have to do anything but clean Dean’s jacket until Sam gets back

But you’re not that lucky.

Pretty, green eyes that are but don’t look like Dean’s flutter open, the demon drops any pretense of playing pretend, and your skin begins to crawl as it speaks.

“Good mornin’,” it leers at you from the chair, pulling slightly on the bonds. “Aren’t you a pretty sight to see after some forced shut eye.”

You start to scrub on the leather to a degree that can’t be helpful, your knuckles white.

“Knockin’ us out wasn’t very nice to your friend in here, Sweetheart. He’s awfully torn up about it. Feelin’ like he failed you, beggin’ me not to hurt you, hates that I was able to get the up on him and touch you at all. But can I tell you a secret,” the demon says your name, and your blood curls in your body. “He really wants to touch you himself. You’ve got a real dirty minded fellow on your hands. Who woulda thought the great Dean Winchester’s weakness would be a smart-mouthed bitch-“

The demon seems to choke on that last word, and when your gaze shoots up Dean’s body looks like it’s in pain. He’s curving into himself—his eyes screwed shut and sweat forming on his brow—and you’re moving before you know what’s happening. Jumping out of your seat and grabbing his face between your hands, your voice high and frantic over the blood pounding in your ears.

“Dean?” You run your thumb over his cheek, and he twitches, like he can’t figure out if he wants to flinch away or lean into your touch. “Shit, Dean, I need you to talk to me-“

Dean’s eyes snap open—that foul glint still rooted deep into them—and he laughs as you jerk away like he’d burned you.

“I’ll give ‘im this.” The demon says, the words still slightly strained. “He ain’t an easy ride. Keeps tryin’ to break out and talk to you, tell you not to listen to me and go find Sammy.” The demon laughs again, and it might be the worst sound you’ve ever heard. It’s Dean’s laugh, but inverted. Cold and hateful and wrong. This is so fucking wrong.

“Shut up.” You mutter, taking an unsteady step back, and the demon raises Dean’s brows.

“Well, darlin’, you’re just breakin’ poor Dean’s heart. Hurtin’ him, tellin’ him to shut up, tyin’ him up-“ The demon cuts himself off, twisting Dean’s face into a smirk. “Well, that one’s a funny little case, ain’t it. He’s too much of a pathetic little bitch to admit it-“

You scowl, standing a little taller. “Dean’s notpathetic-“

The demon pushes on as if you’d said nothing at all. “But he’s kinda into this. Likes the idea of you havin’ some fun with him however you want, pleasin’ you however you like, or,” the Demon’s grin grows mocking and crude. “Switchin’ places. Keepin’ you down to find out if he can make you scream louder than when he does that thing with his tongue, see if he can get you beggin’ all pretty. Nothin’ gets him goin’ more than when you beg-“

“Shut up.“ You hiss, grabbing your phone off your bed. “I don’t know what your fucking angle is, but I’d recommend you get out of my-“ you catch yourself, taking a short breath before plowing on. “Out of Dean-“

The demon caught it, though, and his smirk grows. “Your what? He ain’t your boyfriend, darlin’. But Jesus, he hates that too. I don’t think you’d keep indulgin’ this asshole if you could spend a second in here with ‘im like I am. He’s fuckin’ obsessed with you, it’s goddamn pathetic-“

You clench your jaw so hard you might break teeth, your movements rough as you scroll for Sam’s contact. “I said shut up-“

“He thinks he’s fuckin’ poison.” The demon sneers, and you can’t look at Dean’s face—can’t see it cruel and filled with hate—or you might start crying. “And shit, darlin’, he’d like to poison you. He’d like to do everythin’ to you. Fuck ya’ and buy you flowers and marry ya’,” the demon cackles, and you feel a little dizzy. “’S why he’s been doin’ this stupid fuckin’ charade all week. He wants to bruise ya’ and bite ya’, then whine and bitch about how he’s so disgustingly in love with you-“ The demon hacks a slight cough, and shakes his head with a mocking grimace. “Makes me fuckin’ sick, how needy and weak this piece of shit is-“

“I said,” you cross back to the chair, fisting Dean’s blood-covered shirt in your hand and yanking him up with cold words and words you hate on your tongue. “Shut the fuck up. And get out of him, before I fucking kill you.”

The demon just laughs at you, spit covering your face. “You ain’t gonna kill me, Sweetheart. Not while I’m in your precious Dean’s body. Not while you got me here, tellin’ you all the nasty things he’d like to do to ya’, how he worships the ground your fuckin’ walk on and dreams about you sayin’ you love a pile of trash like him-“

You tear off your own jacket, bundle up the sleeve, and stuff it the demons mouth. You don’t fucking care if it’s trapped in Dean’s body until Sam gets back, you can’t keep listening to it. Listening to it fucking lie and rip you apart with only words, watch it eyes gleam as it puppets Dean’s mouth to torture you. Why the fuck would it say things like that. It can’t be to hurt Dean, because all he’ll have to do is tell you when this is over that he’s sorry about what the demon said, and that it’s all just lies. And the demon doesn’t know—can’t know—that it just ripped your heart out of your chest and ran it through a meat-grinder. It doesn’t make any fucking sense, and you feel like your skin is trying to fly off your body, and Dean’s still covered in blood and it’s horrible-

Your phone buzzes on the floor—slightly cracked from being suddenly dropped—and it’s Sam. When you pick up he doesn’t wait to hear you before he launches into frantic words, practically shouting into the speaker.

“Found it!” He sounds a little out of breath, and you wouldn’t doubt that he’s been running back to the car. “Can you put me on-“

“Yep.” You press speaker, ripping your jacket out the demons mouth and turning the volume all the way up. “Go.”

Sam starts to recite a long, fancy string of Latin words, and you can’t bear to see Dean’s body thrash and roar and fold in pain, but you need to make sure the demon goes. That when Sam finishes and Dean’s eyes start to flutter, it’s safe to thank Sam, hang up the phone, and fall to your knees at Dean’s side.

“Dean,” you cup his jaw, angling his head slightly back. “Shit, Dean, please say something-“

He moans your name, and you almost start crying in relief, dropping your head carefully onto his leg.

“I, shit-“ Dean’s voice is hoarse as he pulls slightly at the bonds around him. “I’m happy to see you too, Sweetheart, but I kinda need you do untie me-“

“Fuck, sorry-“ You scramble with the ropes, scanning over his body as you do. “I’m gonna go get Sam’s medkit, can you take your shirt off-“

“Well, I’d usually make you but me some dinner- shit-“ He’d already started to pull his shirt off, his whole body shuddering as his arms tried to raise up.

“Dean-“

“Gimme three, I’ve got it-“

“No, you don’t. I’m cutting your shirt off, just-“ You move to your feet, pointing a stern finger at him. “Stay.”

He raises his hands, flinching slightly at the movement. “Yes, ma’am.”

Neither of you speak for a long while. You throw yourself entirely into his stitches, tossing the bloodied rags of his shirt into the trash and stealing small at Dean’s handsome, exhausted features. He’s watching you the whole time, his mouth opening and closing like he wants to say something but it’s sure where to start. When he finally clears his throat, you hum, keeping your hands steady on the stitches.

“This fucking sucks.” He grumbles, and you huff a dry laugh.

“Yeah. It really does.” You pull another stitch through the gash, and Dean winces. “Shit, I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologize.” He mutters. “I should be apologizing to you.”

You frown up at him, your hands coming to a still. “Why?”

“I let that asshole get one up on me.” He grunts, refusing to meet your eyes. “Couldn’t get a hold over him, either. Let him say all that shit to you-“

Something cracks in your heart, but you just shrug. “That’s not on you, Dean. Demon’s lie, you don’t have to explain it-“

Now Dean’s frowning at you. “What?”

“The demon,” you mumble, your face flushing slightly. “What he said. I get it, it’s what they do, you don’t need to-“

“The demon didn’t,” Dean coughs, his face redder than you’ve ever seen it, his voice almost nervous. “It didn’t lie. He was a dick about how he said it, but he didn’t lie.”

“I, um, I don’t-“ You gape at him for a long second, trying to figure out if he’s joking. This isn’t something Dean would joke about, but that just means you must have heard him wrong. The demon said Dean loved you, and Dean didn’t love you—you haven’t even allowed yourself to entertain the thought outside of secret fantasies and feverish dreams—so the demon lied. The demon lied. The demon had to have lied, but why would Dean-

He says your name, tone cautious and features soft when you blink at him. “Lost you for a second, Sweetheart, are you-“

“I’m okay.” You mumble, refocusing on the stiches. “I’m probably just tired, I thought I heard you say-“

“That I love you?”

You swallow. There it is again. “I-“

He says your name again, careful fingers brushing hair from your face. “Look at me.”

You can’t. You don’t know what’s going on, and there’s still so much blood.

Dean hand moving under your chin and guides your gaze up, you lips parting slightly as your eyes meet his. He’s scanning over you, a slight furrow to his brow, and you can’t stop your hand from moving up and wiping a little blood off his cheek.

“Dean-“

“Never mind.” He mutters, shaking his head slightly. “Thought that we, uh, never mind.”

When you finish the stitches—your hands shaking slightly, your head spinning with confusion—you force him to shower first. It gives you time to spiral down, down, down, your brain turning desperately to figure out what that was. Why Dean would say that, why he’s acting so strange, why the demon would say that, why Sam’s being such a dick and insisting that he’s getting a second room, because Dean would—allegedly—rather have you here as the three of you had already been rotating through the floor, couch, and bed.

Which means you’re stuck with alone Dean for the night. And he’s not fully looking at you when he exits the shower, and you’re mostly just mumbling to each other, and he doesn’t love you but he looks like a kicked puppy. He picks up your own blood-covered jacket, helps you carefully out of your seat, takes the soapy rag from your hands, and flat out refuses to sit until you move to the shower.

And the water doesn’t help. You feel cleaner, but the steam makes your head spin all the more, and you can’t stop picturing Dean’s fallen, almost pained features, and playing the demons words over in your mind.

Dean’s disgustingly in love with you. He worships the ground you walk on and dreams about you saying you love him. And you do love him, but he doesn’t love you, and it’s dangerous to hope that he’d love you, and-

And he still looks so beaten down when you exit the shower. He barely looks at you as you cross the room, his attention wholly on your jacket, and when you drop on the bed and clear your throat, you could sworn he pales.

“Are you,” you swallow, forcing your voice to be stronger. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yep” He mutters, still not looking up. “Stitches are fine, Sweetheart. Good work.”

You flush slightly, but push on. “And your head?”

“Pounding like a bitch, but I’ve gotten through worse.” He shrugs, and words start to creep like vomit up your throat. “We’ll grab Sam in the morning and get goin’-“

“What did you mean?” You blurt, and Dean freezes. “When you said the demon wasn’t lying?”

Dean sighs, and drops the rag, running his hands over his face before turning to you, his voice low and elbows braced on his knees. “What I said.” He grunts, his eyes now refusing to leave yours. “He didn’t lie.”

“About-“

“All of it.”

Your breathing is shallow, your voice barely a whisper, but you have to ask. It will ruin everything, but you need to ask.

But you’re a coward, and you ask the wrong thing.

“Why did you tell the country club we were married?”

Dean lets out a low, humorless chuckle. “Because I thought it would be fun. I’d get to call you my wife and see you blush all freakin’ week, and this case was gonna be shit so I thought what the hell.”

“Oh.” You whisper, unsure what to make of that. “Okay.”

Dean still doesn’t look away. If anything his eyes sear into you as his voice drops lower, his expression darkness and unreadable. “How’d you figure out I was possessed?”

You’d practiced this. You just did. You just knew it wasn’t him. That’s all you have to say, and you can’t. Something grabs your tongue and all you can say is the truth.

“Because I know you.” You mumble, unable to break his gaze. “And that wasn’t my Dean.”

“Your Dean,” He chuckles, shaking his head like he doesn’t believe you. “Wasn’t sure I was your anything, kid-“

“Well, I didn’t think you loved me.”

You say the words before you can actually think them through, and time freezes. Dust seems to the hanging static in the air, red water still and motionless on the table, the hum of the bathroom fan stuck on one long note, and you and Dean both trapped in place. Neither of you strong enough to speak, but not weak enough to run, and why did you say that, Dean doesn’t love you-

“I didn’t think you’d want to hear it.” He’s searching over your face, words low and whole body tensed. “And I’d try to take it back for you, but-“

“Don’t take it back!” You almost yelp, and Dean’s eyes widen slightly. “I don’t want you to take it back, I just- I don’t-“

“You don’t believe me.”

You nod weakly, wishing he would look away. Wishing Dean would just let you curl into yourself and hide for a million years, until this ends. Until this sore heat of shame over your skin and blooming warmth of hope that Dean might, maybe, really, possibly love you both die a quiet, easy death.

But he doesn’t look away. Dean pushes himself out of the chair with a grunt, walks on unsteady legs to stand before you, and takes your face between his hand, his words deep and firm.

“I love you,” he says your name, lowering his face to yours. “And I know it’s not what you want, but I do. I won’t apologize for it, but if you’re done messing around with me because of that, I’m never gonna make you pretend you love me back-“

You’d been sent into a daze of Dean loves you, he’s saying it himself and it’s the truth and he loves you, and that snaps you out of it. You close the last breath of space between your lips without effort, and this is a long, lazy, peaceful kiss that people without blood and demons would have. It’s cementing, steeling it fully into you that Dean loves you. You’ll never have to try and force yourself to hate him, because it’s shit work to hate Dean Winchester and there’s no point it anymore. He loves you, and it’s impossible to doubt that he loves you when he’s kissing you like this—not invasive but deep, not demanding but still dragging small moans and happy sighs from your throat, holding your cheek with one hand and cupping the back of your head with the other—so it’s not a war with yourself push him back a little and finally say words that have been stuck in your throat for years.

“I love you too.” You smile at him, and his eyes flash. “I don’t have to pretend, and this is what I want, so please,” you take a shaking breath, moving your hand to hold his against you. “Please don’t apologize for this. And please,” you lean a little further forward, bumping your nose with his as he continues to stare. “Keep messing around with me, Dean. I love you, so I’d-“

You cut yourself off with a squeak as Dean pulls you back into a kiss, this one heavier and sloppier, leaving you with ragged breath and puffed lips. Your hands curl into his shirt as he drops onto the bed at your side, hauls you over him with only a low, slightly pained grunt, and looks up at you with a slight frown on his face.

“That son of a bitch kissed you.”

“I thought it was you,” you mumble, tracing a small patten on his chest with one finger. “Sorry-“

“I’m not mad at you,” Dean gives you an amused look, pressing another, smaller kiss to your lips. “I’m mad at that douchebag, for trying to get with my girl.”

His words are mumbled against your lips, settling deep and warm in your stomach, and you can barely manage a hum of, “Oh. Okay.”

He chuckles, his hand moving under your shirt to run up the skin of your waist, your body shivering with pleasure at the touch. “I’d like to fuck you,” he mutters your name, his eyes on yours so attentive and dark that you might agree to jump off a cliff if he asks. “But my doctor said I need to take it easy-“

“I’m your doctor,” you gasp, dropping your brow to Dean’s as he brushes the underside of your breast. “And I think that- shit, Dean-“ He’s adjusted you in his arms, settling your core right over the obvious, proud bulge in his jeans. “If we take it easy, and you promise to let me stay on top-“

Dean shakes his head, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. “That’s gonna be a real hard,” he ruts up into you, and you whimper. “Promise to keep, babygirl-“

“Well it’s that,” you lean back, giving him a stern glare. “Or nothing, Winchester. Your choice.”

He gives you a look of mock disbelief. “I can’t believe I fake married someone so freakin’ mean to me-“

“I can.” You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, your own lips curling up slightly. “What’s it gonna be.”

Dean narrows his eyes at you, his hand trailing down your stomach to cup you right over your pussy as he drawls. “I think you should make that choice, Sweetheart. Tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you.”

“I-“ You lean forwards, burying your face in his neck to try and stifle your moans. “I already-“

“You said you stay on top, but that can mean a million things,” he mutters your name, kissing right under your ear. “I can fuck up into you, or you can ride me, or,” Dean starts to rub you through your pants, his thumb drawing rough, taunting circle over your clit. “I can finger fuck this pretty pussy until you cum all over my fuckin’ hand.”

“Dean,” you moan against his skin, your nails digging into his back. “Fuck, I-“

“This,” he moves his free hand up, playing with the waistband of your pants. “Seems to be getting in our way. Take it off for me.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. You almost scramble to pull off your clothing—still manage to shoot Dean a glare for his low, teasing wolf-whistle when you’re fully bare before him—and almost throw yourself back onto him before you freeze. He’s still dressed—you can see the outline of where his pants must be becoming painful—and he’s still hurt. That’s why you had to stay on top in the first place. Dean won’t say it, but he’s in pain, and that’s more important than sex. You’re aching for him between your legs, you whole body whining to be pressed to his, but you can’t let him injure himself.

So you drop to your knees, help him out of his pants and boxers—feeling Dean track your every movement, remaining silent as you work—and swallow as his cock springs into view. You’ll never get tired of the sight of it. Big and meant to fit so well inside of you, pretty because it’s Dean’s, and he’s not really capable of being ugly.

Dean grunts your name as you take him in your hand, your fingers trailing over his strong thighs as you start to pump him slowly.

You smile up at him, raising your brows. “Do you like that?”

“Of course I fucking like that-“

“Do you love me?”

You say the words innocently, squeezing your hand lightly, and he blushes slightly, throwing his head back as he groans. “Shit, Sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re doin’ to me-“

“I do,” you whisper, pressing an open mouth kissed to the broad, red tip of his cock. “You do it to me too.”

“’S not-“ You take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and letting him bump against your throat, and he cuts himself off with another groan. “Fuck, ’s not the same-“

You pop off of him with a frown. “It is. I love you too.”

“I know, pretty girl.” He mutters, moving hold your cheek, his cock twitching in your hands as you lean into the touch. “But you don’t gotta do this for me just cause you love me-“

“I like doing it.” You shrug, licking a long stripe up his shaft to prove your point, savoring the grunt it draws from his chest, the way his hand moves to fist in your hair. “I might love you, Dean Winchester,” you grin at him, replacing your mouth with your hand as you speak. “But I also really just like sucking your cock.”

“Son of a-“ Dean’s voice is a growl, his eyes darting over your face like he’s looking for something. “You’re- fuck it.”

You squeak as he pulls you up, back to his lap, and impales you on his cock in one smooth motion.

“Dean!” You try to gain a little power over your mouth, your fingers running over his fresh stitches. “Your doctor did not, fuck-“ He rolls his hips, and you bite your tongue to stop your moan. “Winchester, your doctor did not approve picking heavy things up-“

“You’re not that heavy.” He shrugs, kissing your shoulder as his arm braces you against this chest, his words teasing and low. “And lucky me, my fake doctor is also my fake wife, and they’re both,” he moves his mouth back over yours, muttering against your lips. “Begging me to fuck them all pretty.” His other arm wraps around you, starting to guide the rolls of your hips, his eyes on yours so soft for how he’s splitting you open and bumping against the deepest places inside of you. “And get them to cum all over my fuckin’ cock.”

You moan, throwing your head back as you start to grind down on him, and you’ve done this a million times before, but it feels different. You’ve fucked Dean enough that you must have covered every base—rough and fast and soft and slow and teasing and desperate and angry and blissful—and it’s the same to your body, but different to your mind. Dean’s hands still ignite fire on your skin as he holds you as close as he can manage, but you’re not worried about how they might drop away. He’s still kissing you everywhere he can reach, but there’s nothing turning in your head about how he might not like what he tastes. He’s doing it all right—he always does it right—but it’s so much more.

You squeeze around his cock and he moans your name, almost pinning you into his laps as he latches his mouth to your upper chest. Sucking and nipping you where people can see. He’s always kept his small habit of marking you to where it won’t be visible, where people won’t jokingly ask you who got messy. But people will see this, and he knows that, and it seems to spur him on. His mouth crashes back into yours, his hands keeping your rhythm on him steady as his mouth and cock unravel you above him.

“You gonna cum, Sweetheart?” Dean growls down your throat, and you just nod frantically, swiveling your hips around him.

“So close,” you whine, trying to find just a little more friction. “Please, Dean-“

He starts to slam up into you, holding you steady with one arm as he leans back, bracing himself on the bed. His stitches are somehow still closed, he’s looking at you like you’re all the world gathered for him to hold, and his mouth is lowering to pull your nipple between his teeth. Keeping you right on the edge as his thrusts grow uneven, his hands bruising on your skin in the best way.

“Fuck, you wanna cum with me, babygirl?” He groans, flicking your nipple with his tongue before pulling you down to him, dragging you into a kiss of spit and need and pure fucking desire. “Think you can ask me real pretty-“

“Please. Please, Dean, please.” You gasp, your clit starting to rub against his abdomen, your whole body so close to bursting into flames. “So fucking close, need it so bad-“

He bites on your lower lip, smirking at your high whine. “Good girl.” He jerks up into you one last time, the movement rough and uncontrolled, and groans into your ear. “Cum.”

You might have screamed, but everything goes blinding and loud and holy like a hymn you only know in the language of Dean, and you never want to stop singing for the rest of your life. You can hear him shouting your name as he spills up into you, but you’re so high on your pleasure— on the smell of Dean everywhere around you and his lingering taste on your tongue—that it’s distant and only a rush of good. Dean feels good, and he’s muttering in your ear that he loves you, so you think everything might be really good.

And it is. This isn’t blood or work. This is Dean’s cock still buried inside you, his hot, warm cum running down your thighs, and your hands tracing over his warm skin to check that his stitches are still together. This is your face pressed into the crook of Dean’s neck, his hands combing through your hair, and a priceless sense of peace. It’s always lingered before, but it would wash away as you both left the bed, and drift into nothing as you wandered back into the real world. It feels more certain now. It feels more set into your bones, and you know you’ll see more blood and stitch more wounds, but this is going to stay. Dean is going to stay, and you have all of him. And that’s welcoming this sense of peace that’s so finite and rare, you’d have to be insane to let it go.

So you won’t. And you won’t have to cling to him, because Dean isn’t foolish enough to let you go either. You’ll keep all of Dean, he’ll do the same for you, and he’ll keep igniting a spark in your gut by saying my girl that you won’t ever allow to go out.

End Note: Look! A Rare Dean Winchester dealing with his own emotions! Spotted in the wild! And I am physically incapable of writing a short one-shot, and I'm very sorry about that.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature

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darlingdaisyfarm · 7 months ago

Text

feeling pretty low today, so i’m turning to these two old men for a little comfort

nsfw under the cut, fem!reader

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Stan likes to call you:

sweetheart, honeybun, doll face and on occasion baby girl. when he’s feeling extra bold? princess — always with that unmistakable smirk

calls you “my good luck charm" if you help him out in the Shack, especially when he’s trying to swindle a tourist and you flash a pretty smile.

✦ “c’mere, darlin’. can’t let a fine gal like you walk around without her prince.”

✦ “ah, y’know, you’re the only reason I don’t go completely nuts in this crazy town. sometimes, doll, I think yer my only sane thought all day.” said so casually as if it’s not gonna hit you right in the heart

✦ if you get hurt (even the tiniest scratch), he’s going into dad mode: “who do I gotta knock some sense into, huh?” even if you’ll tell him it was just a clumsy accident, he’ll grumble, “well, now I’m the one hurt. bein’ all worried like that. you’re killin’ me, kid.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Ford likes to call you:

“dearest” when he’s feeling soft, sweetheart, darling, honey, baby

he’ll whisper “love” against your temple when he thinks you’re drifting to sleep, his voice quiet and reverent like it’s sacred to him

starlight – Ford’s been out in those other dimensions, faced down monsters and madness, but he says he’s never found anything so bright, so grounding. “c’mere, starlight, I’m not finished admiring you.”

༄ “don’t laugh, but. . . I’d chase you across universes, even if it took me another thirty years. no dimension is worth exploring without you by my side.”

༄ if you’re reading one of his journals, Ford’ll slide up behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he murmurs, “curious, are we? so, what do you think of my work?”

༄ he’s not a show-off, not by any means, but catch him fixing up a machine? he’ll lift his gaze to you, smiling. “I could teach you, you know. but you’d have to be a very attentive student.”

༄ oh, if Ford wrote about you in his journal, you know it’d be scrawled between notes on trans-dimensional theories and arcane symbols, the ink smudged in places where he hesitated, where his pen hovered just so before he let himself write the truth

“Strange anomalies detected….. not in the temporal or metaphysical sense, but in a far more personal dimension. Subject exhibits an inexplicable gravitational pull, distinct from any gravitational force I've previously documented. When I observe her, I feel an uncharacteristic deviation in my thought patterns, an accelerated heartbeat not caused by heightened blood pressure or adrenaline, but by… attraction. Confounding. She’s somehow eclipsing the most rational parts of my mind.”

And, because Ford’s words can’t capture the whole of it, there’d be tiny sketches of you, like half-finished thoughts.

nsfw

what Stan says during sex:

“Damn, honey, you’re makin’ an old man feel young again. Don’t stop.”

“You’re makin’ me wanna be a better man, but not right now, baby, not right now.”

“Mmm, there it is— yeahh, keep doin’ that. . . feels so good, darlin’, you got no idea.”

“Makin’ all these pretty noises, huh? Lemme hear ‘em, baby. Don’t hold back on me.”

“You’re somethin’ else, y’know that? I’m gonna be thinkin’ ‘bout that pussy all week.”

“Fuckin’ hell, don’t know if I’m gonna last much longer with you doin’ that.”

“Look at ya, so needy for me, beggin’ to be filled. You got me so riled up, I can barely think— ah, f-fuck. . .”

Ford:

“Ohh— sweetheart, you feel even better than I imagined, i’ve waited for this.”

“I need you so much it scares me.”

“You’re brilliant, utterly captivating. . . yesyesyes, keep moving like that, please.”

“Tell me exactly what you want, darlin, I need to hear you say it.”

“I never thought I’d feel this way again; you’ve woken something in me.”

“God, I can’t— can’t believe you’re letting me have you. I need you so much, it hurts.”

“Mmm, god, yes. . . yes, you’re mine, all mine. . . can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

“O-oh god, you feel so tight around me, sweetheart, I can’t-can’t hold back!”

“Please, oh, please— just, just like that, don’t stop, keep. . . keep going. . .”

“I can’t help myself; I need you. I want to feel you around me.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re like this. I can’t take my eyes off you.”

“Oh gosh, I need you to take me deeper. Please, baby.”

“Tell me how good it feels; I want to hear it.”

“You feel incredible. I could stay buried inside you forever.”

#gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you #stanford pines #x reader #gravity falls smut #stan pines smut #ford pines smut #ford pines x reader #gravity falls #stan pines x reader #Smut #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls headcanons #ford x reader #ford pines x you #stan pines x you #stan pines x oc #stanley pines x reader

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noorpersona · 3 months ago

Note

Hiii!!!! I cant tell you how much I absolutely love your writings! I was wondering if you could do a part two for managerial duties for Inarizaki!! Maybe where the manager has serious bruising and the team finds out... and theyre genuinely worried! Id be cute if Atsumu would apologize too!! But you dont have to! Hehe, thank you for making my day! I appreciate your writings so much!

YES I LOVE THAT IDEA! And you've made my day with your kind words <33 thank you so much for reading!! Here we go :D --

You had expected some bruising.

What you hadn't expected was for your forearms to turn into a full-blown patchwork of dark purple and deep red, an angry mess of tender skin that ached every time you so much as brushed against something. It had started subtly enough—just a faint soreness the day after the bet. But by the time midweek rolled around, it was impossible to ignore. Even writing with a pen sent sharp pangs up your arms, and carrying the team’s water bottles felt like lifting bricks.

Which is why, in a moment of sheer desperation, you’d dug through your old volleyball gear and fished out your compression sleeves. They weren’t a fix, but they helped stabilize your arms and dull the constant ache, allowing you to function without wincing every time you existed. The compression kept the swelling down, made the bruises feel less noticeable, and at least provided a thin barrier between your damaged skin and the outside world.

You hadn’t really thought much of them beyond that.

Until you pulled off your jacket in the middle of practice and heard the gym fall silent.

The first thing you noticed was that every single pair of eyes had locked onto your arms. It took you a second to realize why—black compression sleeves, pulled taut over your forearms, standing out starkly against your skin.

"Uh…" you started, blinking as the weight of their attention settled on you.

"What’s with the sleeves?" Aran asked first, brows furrowed. "Didn’t know you wore those."

Your brain short-circuited. "Oh. Um. They’re just… comfortable."

"Comfortable?" Osamu repeated skeptically. "Since when do ya need sleeves to be comfortable?"

Suna, who had been lazily leaning against the wall, suddenly pushed off from his spot and started toward you. "They look kinda tight." Without hesitation, he reached out, fingers brushing over the fabric. "Lemme see."

Atsumu, who had been drinking from his water bottle, glanced over and smirked. "Damn, manager, if ya wanted to show off yer arms, ya could’ve just—"

Before he could finish, Osamu smacked the back of his head hard enough to make him stumble. "Read the damn room, ‘Tsumu."

"Ow! What the hell?!" Atsumu grumbled, rubbing the spot Osamu had hit.

The moment Suna applied even the slightest pressure, a sharp, searing pain shot through your arm, and you yelped, whipping your hand to your chest as if you’d been burned. "Shit!" you hissed through clenched teeth, eyes squeezing shut as the sting radiated up your arm.

The reaction was instant.

"What the hell was that?" Osamu frowned, his teasing dropping immediately.

"What’s goin’ on?" Ginjima asked, concern lacing his voice.

Atsumu, still rubbing his head, now had his attention completely on you. "What'd you scream like that for?"

"I-It’s nothing," you stammered, holding your arm protectively. "Just—Suna caught me off guard."

"Bullshit," Suna drawled, eyes narrowing. "Take ‘em off."

"No! I mean, really, it’s not a big deal—"

"Take. Them. Off." Kita’s voice cut through the chatter, calm but final.

You hesitated. His gaze didn’t waver. And you knew, knew, there was no getting out of this. With a resigned sigh, you slowly rolled down the sleeve, flinching slightly as the pressure eased off your skin.

A collective gasp rippled through the team.

"Dude…" Osamu muttered, voice even quieter than usual.

Even Suna, usually unfazed by everything, looked taken aback. "Holy shit."

Ginjima let out a low whistle. "That’s gotta hurt."

The bruises looked worse under the gym lights, the deep purples and reds blending into a mess of tender skin, mottled and swollen in some places. It was bad. You could feel how bad it looked, just from their expressions alone.

Atsumu visibly paled. "That…" He swallowed thickly. "That’s from me?"

Kita exhaled slowly, his posture rigid. "You should have said something earlier."

"It’s fine," you tried. "I asked for it. I knew what I was doing."

"That’s not the point," he said, voice eerily even. "You let it get this bad and didn’t bother telling anyone? How exactly is that taking care of yourself?"

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Because, honestly? He had a point.

"Go home," he ordered, folding his arms. "You’re done for the day. And don’t come back until that heals up."

"What? No, I’m fine—"

"No, you’re not." Aran frowned. "That looks painful as hell."

"I can still help—"

Kita said your name like a father would, the tone alone made it clear there would be no arguing. "Go. Home."

You huffed, crossing your arms—then immediately regretted it when pain flared up again. Scowling, you turned on your heel, grabbing your things and storming toward the clubroom.

The moment you stepped inside and shut the door, you let out a long breath, flopping against the lockers. Your arms throbbed. Maybe they were right. Maybe you should take it easy.

You had just started gathering your things when the door cracked open.

"Oi."

You turned, only to find Atsumu standing awkwardly in the doorway, eyes flickering between you and the floor. He looked… unsettled. Which, for him, was weird.

"Uh. Hey?"

His mouth opened, then closed. He shifted his weight. Fidgeted.

You squinted. "Are you… okay?"

He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "I—uh. Shit. Look, I didn’t—ya know—mean to…" He gestured vaguely at your arms, as if that explained everything. "I wasn’t tryna actually hurt ya."

You blinked. "Atsumu. I asked for this."

"Yeah, but—" He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Ya look like ya got run over."

You let out a short laugh. "Well, your serves do feel like getting hit by a truck."

Atsumu winced. "Shit."

For a moment, he was quiet. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he muttered, "I’m sorry."

It was quiet. Stiff. A little clumsy.

But genuine.

You raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Never thought I’d hear you apologize."

He scowled. "Don’t make it weird."

You smiled, shaking your head. "It’s fine. Really. I’ll be okay."

Atsumu eyed you, lips pressing into a thin line. "Yeah. Just… don’t be dumb about it next time."

Then, after a brief pause, he exhaled sharply. "You know you could've just told me you played."

You snorted. "Yeah, right. Where’s the fun in that?"

Atsumu groaned. "Yer impossible."

You grinned. "And yet, you all keep me around."

With an exasperated sigh, he turned on his heel, muttering something about stubborn idiots as he left.

You exhaled, shaking your head fondly.

They were all idiots. Loud, nosy, exasperating idiots. But maybe, just maybe, they were your idiots. --

The next morning, you woke up feeling slightly better, though the soreness in your arms still lingered like a dull throb. The bruises were darkening, but at least the swelling had gone down. You figured that maybe—maybe—you could get away with showing up at morning practice. If you just sat on the sidelines, surely Kita wouldn’t make a big deal out of it… right?

You stretched, rolling your shoulders, before heading to the door to grab your shoes. But the moment you opened it, you froze.

Sitting right outside was a neatly arranged little basket. Ice packs, your favorite snacks, a tube of aloe vera gel—and a folded note resting on top.

Your stomach twisted as you picked it up, already knowing exactly who it was from. Unfolding the paper, your eyes skimmed over Kita’s neat handwriting.

Rest. I meant it.

Take care of yourself first. We’ll be fine until you’re back.

P.S. Don’t make me come over there.

You sighed, rubbing a hand down your face before looking back down at the basket. It was thoughtful. It was so Kita. You let out a quiet chuckle, shaking your head before stepping back inside and closing the door behind you.

Guess morning practice would have to wait.

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vandme12 · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! I love your writing! I don’t know if you’re accepting requests but if you are could you do Ronin with a person who has little care for their safety? If you could put some hurt/comfort I would love that! I hope you Have amazing day/night and also if you don’t want to do this that is or you are uncomfortable with this request then you can ignore this!

Ronin’s never really gotten the whole self-preservation thing. Not for himself—God, no—but you?

You’re supposed to care. About your body, your breath, your precious blood still swirling warm in your veins. You’re supposed to flinch when the knife grazes too close, supposed to kick and scream when the world gets ugly. Normal people do.

But you?

You walk into Purgatory like you’re untouchable. Like nothing in this broken city can chew you up and spit you out. And maybe that’s why he can’t stop watching—because you’re too fragile for this world, too reckless to survive it, and yet here you are. Still breathing. Still standing. Still his.

Tonight, though, you’ve pushed it.

“You fuckin’ crazy?” His voice is sharp, jagged, cracking through the damp alley air. “Who the hell told ya t’pull a stunt like that?”

Your lip curls into that little smile—the one that’s gonna kill him someday. “I handled it, didn’t I?”

Yeah. Barely.

The blood on your temple is drying, flaking against your skin. Someone—some thing—in Purgatory got their hands on you. Not enough to break you, but enough to leave marks. And Ronin’s seen enough broken toys to know how fast it happens. One crack, then another. Until there’s nothing left to save.

You don’t get to crack. Not on his watch.

“Handled it,” he echoes, soft and venomous. “You ‘bout two seconds from being a corpse and ya wanna act tough?”

“I’m still here.”

His laugh is ugly—raw and bitter, too sharp to be real amusement. “For now. Don’t mean ya always will be, baby.”

You roll your eyes, like he’s being dramatic. Like you didn’t almost die. And that—that—does something awful to his chest. Makes his hands twitch for violence, not at you but at the world that dared to touch you. His darling. His one good thing.

“Y’don’t get it,” he mutters, stepping closer, and his voice dips—low, low, low, until it’s slithering down your spine. “Ain’t no do-overs if someone breaks ya. No reset button. No ‘oopsie-daisy, lemme try again.’ You’re fragile, sweetheart. Flesh an’ blood an’—”

His hand snakes around the back of your neck, rough fingers brushing your pulse point. It’s still there, steady against his touch. But it could’ve stopped. That’s the part you don’t seem to fucking get.

“Don’t talk like I’m made of glass,” you murmur, but your voice is softer now. Quieter. As if you know you’ve pushed him too far.

Ronin scoffs, shaking his head. “Glass don’t bleed, baby.”

And you bleed so fucking pretty.

You shiver when his thumb strokes over the cut on your temple, half-tender, half-testing. Like he’s making sure you’re still here. That the world hasn’t stolen you out from under him.

“I’m fine,” you insist, but the waver in your voice betrays you.

“Yeah?” His smile is all teeth. All danger. “Then why’re ya shaking?”

You don’t answer—can’t, maybe—so he pulls you closer, his fingers curling tight against your nape. “Ain’t a game, darling,” he says, and the roughness in his voice breaks against the word. Darling. “Ain’t some cute little story where ya get t’walk away every time. You die here? That’s it. Curtains closed. No encore.”

You swallow, and that fragile little tremor in your throat—he could kill for it. Could kill the whole fucking city just to make sure it never comes back.

But instead, he softens. Just a little.

“Why don’tcha care?” he asks, quieter now. It’s almost a plea, if he were the type to beg. “Why’s it gotta be so easy for ya t’throw yourself into the fire?”

“I’m not scared,” you say, as if that explains anything.

And maybe—maybe—that’s the problem.

Ronin makes a noise, something caught between a laugh and a snarl. “Fuckin’ should be,” he growls, pressing his forehead against yours. “World’s a meat grinder, baby. Eats people like you for fun.”

“You’d stop it,” you whisper, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like you believe in him.

And isn’t that the cruelest part? That you trust him to keep you breathing, when you won’t do it for yourself?

His breath hitches. Just for a second.

“Damn right, I would.”

Because if the world wants to hurt you, it’s gotta go through him first. And there ain’t a soul alive who’s ever done that and lived.

Ronin exhales slow, like he’s trying to bleed the anger out. It doesn’t work—never does—but he tries for you anyway. His other hand finds your waist, tugging you flush against him, and you go so easy. Like you belong there.

“You gotta stop,” he murmurs. “Stop makin’ me worry. Stop actin’ like you’re invincible.”

“And if I don’t?”

His grip tightens—not rough, but firm. Solid enough to ground you. “Then I’m gonna glue ya to my fuckin’ hip. Ain’t lettin’ you outta my sight.”

It’s a promise. A threat. And something softer, too—something he won’t say out loud.

(That he doesn’t want to lose you. That he can’t.)

For a long moment, you just stand there—close enough to taste his breath, feel his heart thrumming wild beneath his ribs. And when you speak again, your voice is small.

“You really worry that much?”

Ronin huffs a breathless laugh, brushing a blood-crusted curl from your cheek. “Course I do, dumbass.”

You let that hang in the air, heavy and sweet, before tipping your head against his shoulder. “Okay,” you murmur. “I’ll be more careful.”

It’s not a promise. But it’s close enough.

Ronin kisses the crown of your head, something raw catching in his throat. “Yeah, ya better be,” he says softly. “I ain’t done with you yet, baby. Not even close.”

#killer chat #killer chat x reader #kc #killerchat #killer chat ronin #ronin beaufort #ronin x reader #kc ronin #kc ronin x reader #killer chat ronin x reader #ronin #ronin killer chat

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itstheghostofmypast · 7 months ago

Text

S♡CKER P♡NCH

Boxer AU Choi San x Reader

Summary: No labels, no commitment, no real relationship. A lone wolf who could throw anyone across the ring until his love for boxing shifted to the love for his little daisy.

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: Making out, language.

Word Count: 2.1 K

Est.Read Time: 10 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: I'd like to blame @edenesth for sending me that one real- man. I'm weak for this man.

After a deep groan the boxer sighed, staring up at the bright light of the ring, the world around him blurring into twos and threes, hazy and foggy, the world around him turning into distant memory but the persistent, ear piercing ringing in his head had his conscious hold onto some form of reality.

A familiar voice caught his attention, his eyes slowly trailing to the fuzzy shadow, the sweet voice cutting through the loud ringing. A muffled whisper was all he caught before blacking out,

“Sannie!? Wake up!”

The thumping at the back of his skull pulled him out of his blackout, slowly opening his eyes, staring up at the dark shaky ceiling - oh, he was in the van. Did Wooyoung pick him up? Did he carry him? Closing his eyes, he sighed, the memories match he had won, not one of his finest ventures. In fact, he had been so distracted that he really did think he was going to lose, mid way on the bench he had asked Wooyoung if he could tap out, only for his manager/best friend to whisper back, “Ya dumb? Ya gotta win this to prove to her you're a strong one! Get her that ring you want with tonight's money!”

The ring, that's what, led his large best friend back into the ring with a new sense of determination. Sure, images of her flashing across his mind, trying to focus on nothing but her, especially the last memory of her, when she was the more upset with him than he had ever seen. He knew he had to make it up to her. He had to prove to her that he wasn't weak. He was part of the big leagues now, and he knew what he was doing. And he did, with one final kick the man had won, stumbling back when Wooyoung braced him steady-temperedily with a hand on the back of the boxer, declaring his victory. It was after that when he completely blacked out, somehow hearing the melody of his daisy.

“Instead of yapping at me, tend to him would ya?” The driver mumbled, earing a scoff from the woman behind the curtain, ripping it open so she could glare at him, “This is all your fault!”

“No, this is your fault.” Backrest the brakes at the stop sign he turned his head to glare at her, “If you didn't challenge his capabilities-”

“I'm his doctor! He was already exhausted! I wasn't challenging him! I was giving him MEDICAL ADVICE!”

“I'm his manager! I know what he can and can not do and-”

“HE HAD A DEATH WISH!”

“SO WHAT!?”

“I LOVE HIM, YOU BASTARD!”

The loud horn blaring behind them had Wooyoung sprint into action, stepping on the gas as the whole van shook, causing ; her to lose her balance and topple over and to land in a firm pair of arms, that tightened around her when Wooyoung's rash driving had him hopping lane to lane to find a quick pit stop.

“Slow down, Woo.” He mumbled, voice hoarse and heavy, possibly due to the fatigue, though his words were firm, “There's no need to rush, I feel fine.” Of course, his best friend was rushing to find some form of place to stay, he was worried about him, sure they had her, a certified nurse, but she couldn't do much due to her limited resources.

“Are you sure?” The driver glanced at his rear view mirror, only to shake his head and sigh at the sight of the two love-struck fools staring at each other like that. It made him sick. To think he had seen this man throw men bigger than him around the ring, and now he was all putty in a frail, lousy tempered woman's arms. Rolling his eyes at the lack of response, he reached back to pull the curtain, deciding to give them time to ‘make up’ .

“You came?” San whispered, leaning down to brush his lips against her, trying to ignore the sting of the cut on his lower lip.

“Of course I did, you big dummy.” She mumbled, slowly pulling back and helping him recline against the DIY back rest they had made with an old cushion, “I was mad at your stupidity, didn't mean I wanted to leave you unattended when you'd get hurt.”

“Well, isn't my daisy a work of art.” Mumbled he reached over to gently grasp her hand, drawing gentle circles with his thumb on the back of her soft, smaller hand, “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me. You guys pay me for that.”

He pouted at her statement, sure it was true but that's because Wooyoung had originally hired her, they weren't a couple back then.

And even after the small mountain had constantly been expressing and hinting at his admiration for her, Wooyoung had insisted that the contract remain intact, which meant they needed to keep it professional.

Now, she was just saying this because of their lack of official titles- it was true, the boxer was head over heels for her, but was too afraid to take a step, what if he hurt her with his big calloused hands, or what if he crushed her with his brute being. It didn't matter what any fortune teller or shaman would claim, his Yin was much more suppressed because his choice of occupation- an occupation he was good at, an occupation he enjoyed, an occupation that helped him earn a living. One that he had used to get her a ring. Callbhim old fashioned, but he believed courting her for more than a year was enough. She deserved the proper treatment, one he'd gladly give her - now that he had convinced Wooyoung too.

“Yes but…you didn't need to come all the way there and-”

“Drop it.” She sighed, somewhat irritated by his romantic gestures, he'd do this often, be this tender with her, and then pull back as soon as she'd ask for something more, something that would make her bruised heart flutter.

Slowly, she got up, placing a hand on the roof to steady herself before making her way to the back of the van, grateful that he had not heard her confess her feelings for him to Wooyoung. Reaching for the cooler, she tipped over the lid, kneeling as she plucked out an icepack, a bottle of water, and an ice lolly.

He raised a brow at the choice of items she has returned with, “What's with the- ack!” He gagged at the intensity of the frozen treat hitting the back of his throat, hand instinctively reaching to grab the small end of the stick as he looked at her with an unpleasant expression Though it soon turned into a lopsided smirk when she sat between his spread out legs, frowning up at him and pressing the cold ice beside his eyebrow, mumbling an, “Idiot.”

His other arm looped around her waist, tugging her closer as he pulled out the lolly, “How'd you know I like pineapple?” He giggled pressing it to her lips, watching her slowly part her lips, taking in the treat as she maintained eye contact, watching his ears turn pink at the sight, his eyes widening in disbelief. Sure, they had flirted before but never like this.

The loud crunch caught his ears as she pulled back, with half the pop gone, as she licked her lips and frowned, “I was planning on having it later tonight.”

Whining at her, he pulled the mostly eaten treat, staring at what was left at the bottom before pulling it closer to inspect the bite marks, raising a brow at the sight, swallowing at the loss of romance. Okay, so she was still upset.

Just like that, the boxer had a wonderful idea, completely forgetting the third party present, currently eavesdropping on their conversation, or lack thereof. With one swift move, he bit into the remaining ice lolly, savouring the sweet taste before cupping her face and crashing his lips against hers.

A small squeak broke past her lips that were now occupied with his, her arms trailing up his chest to wrap around his neck, fingers caressing the base of his neck. He pulled her closer, palm flat on the small of her back as he used his other hand to hold her still, giving her a neck a little squeeze, tilting her head to have her part her lips, sharing the melted, sticky pineapple juice.

She pushed him away as she gasped for air, licking the remaining traces of the sugar off her swollen lips, staring at him with a hazed expression, matching his, much like his flushed face and heaving chest- the only difference was that he had that cocky smug look plastered on his handsome, bruised features, looking like a boy who had just won a race.

“I had to win tonight.” he whispered, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers, hand leaving her neck, shoving it in his pocket to look for something, before pulling it out, “Had to get ya this, paid the deposit, have to give the rest tomorrow.”

She gasped at the small velvet box in his hand, glancing up at him then down at the box, her heart racing against time as she took it with shaky hands, flipping open the lid, blinking at the diamond .

“Oh Sannie…why would you-”

“I can't hold back anymore, daisy. You punched me in the heart the moment I fell into your lap that night.”

Her face flushed at the memory of the fateful night they had met, with her sitting at a bus stop post midnight. Waiting for the bus, when a bruised man stumbled onto the platform, the blood on his knuckles dripped onto the concrete. At first she had tried to ignore the giant man, but they way he was swaying left and right for some tugged the strings of her heart, having her let out an, “Are you alright, Sir?”

That night, he had fallen unconscious in his daisy's lap, forever in debt to her, forever in love with her. Next morning he woke up on a warm bed, all patched up and cozy, with her tending to him after bringing him breakfast- a moment of peace, before he had called Wooyoung who then hired her on the spot.

“You're so stupid San…you didn't have to get me a ring- you could've gotten hurt- I just- you fainted and-”

“I love you too…by the way.” He watched her fumble with her words, cutting her off as be referred to the confession of hers a while ago, giving her a closed eye smile when he slipped the ring on her finger, tossing the box somewhere across the van. Both unaware that the van had come to a stop, as he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the back of her palm.

“Kiss me.”

“Wha-” his words cut short as she grabbed his face, much like he had early, only with more force, squishing his plump cheeks, forcing him to pout. This only riled him up further as he gently pushed her onto her back, hovering over her, deepening the kiss, making sure she could feel all the love he had pent up inside for so long. Her lips curled into a smile at his response, hands trailing up his broad back, feeling every ripple of each muscle, her body turning warmer at the way he'd sigh against her mouth. His own hands gripped her by the waist, dragging her closer, chuckling at the little noises she was making. Both lost in bliss, both lost in one another.

“EXCUSE ME, MY VAN IS NO PLACE FOR YOUR NASTY BUSINESS!”

The screech had her push him off her, instantly shivering as the crisp air of the night layering her skin with goosebumps. Their breaths came out in puffs, panting like a pair of teenagers caught in the janitors closet.

“We weren't…doing a-anything.” She huffed, sitting up and glaring at the manager who just scoffed in response, “Mhmmm…I definitely didn't see his tongue shoved down your throat.”

Whining at his snarky response, she pouted at her newly declared lover who gave her a cute smile, one that had her resisting the urge to attack his glistening lips once more. San shook his head at Wooyoung and crawled out of the van, turning to his lady, reaching out for her to help her out of the van, much like he always did, only this time, he boldly wrapped a jacket around her shoulders, before pulling her closer into his side, walking towards the motel Wooyoung had brought them too.

“YAH! This better not become a common practice!” The shorter man yelled at the boxer who's laugh bounced in the dark of the empty night, pulling his source of love and warmth closer, smiling down at her, only to receive a shy smile in return.

Wooyoung watched his best friend walk into the other room behind his lover, waving bye before closing the door, this bastard should be grateful he got them a separate room, more importantly he should be grateful that he had texted her to come quick when San was having his ass handed to him, knowing if there was one sole motivator for the boxer, it was his little daisy.

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25

@s-h-y-a @ateezwonderland

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to-thelakes · 1 year ago

Text

banged up

pairing; frank castle x fem!reader

summary; after being friends with daredevil gets you into a sticky situation, frank takes care of your wounds

warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, reader is very injured but also very stubborn, soft frank, not proof-read, mentions of torture + wounds. some insecurity from reader

notes; okay this one-shot was written ages ago and i just got reminded that i could post it when i got an anon request (which i am going to work on if that anon sees this post ;) ) about the reader not liking swallowing pills. that's a big thing in this fic because I have been taking like 4-5 medication/supplements a day for the past 6+ months and honestly, i hate it. so so does the reader here <3 i hope you enjoy this little fic, i was debating on writing a part 2 that would be a little more angst-focused because frank hates when people he cares about gets hurt but feel free to lmk if y'all would be interested in that <3

part two

“Hey, hey,” A gruff voice pulled you back from unconsciousness. Your eyes slowly blinked open and the first thing you felt was pain. A cry escaped your lips as your hand shot to your side where the pain seemed to be radiating from. But the quick movement only seemed to make you feel worse and you cried out again, “Stop- Stop moving,” The voice repeated. It took you a minute for your eyes to adjust to the gloom and you turned your head to see Frank kneeling on the edge of the bed. There was a frown on his lips.

“It hurts,” You muttered. He sighed and gently took a hold of your bandaged wrist, pulling it down towards your side again.

“I know, sweetheart. You gotta stop moving,” He retorted. Your eyes fell closed again, the pain seemed to be coming from everywhere. Your side is where it hurt the most and as you shifted, the pain rocketted through your system. Eyes squeezed shut and another whimper fell from your lips. Frank sighed, “Sweetheart.” His tone was a warning and you balled your hands into fists by your side which made more pain shoot up.

“What happened?” Your voice was croaky. Your throat was dry and even trying to say a word made your body hurt. Your throat was scratchy, it was so uncomfortable. A ragged breath escaped your lips and you heard Frank’s heavy footsteps moving away from the bed.

“You got banged up pretty bad. Gotta stay there, sweetheart,” He insisted as his footsteps only seemed to get further away. Your eyes opened again and you turned your head to see that he was in the other room of your apartment. You didn’t know what he was doing and you knew that you should have stayed down but you never really listened to him.

With a deep breath, you slowly pushed yourself to sit up. It made your entire body ache and you cried out when the pain bloomed across your side again. But you fought against it to get onto your feet. Frank came rushing back into the room and managed to catch you just as you were about to fall on your ass. You hadn’t expected your ankle to hurt as much as it had when you put pressure on it.

“I told you to keep your ass on the bed,” He snapped. Though there wasn’t as much conviction behind his words as there usually was when it came to Frank. If anything, he seemed concerned that you were hurting yourself.

“What happened,” You repeated your earlier question. Frank sighed and he led you back to the bed so that you could sit down.

“Told ya,” He retorted. You scoffed and then whimpered when your side began to hurt again. Frank gave you a warning look before he disappeared out of the room again so that he could get the glass of water and painkillers he had initially gone out for. The room was silent and it made you pause, you could vaguely remember it now. The torture. The men. You didn’t even know who they were but they wanted to know who Daredevil was. They needed Matt’s identity and they were willing to kill you to get it.

“Where’s Matt?” You croaked out as Frank walked back into your bedroom with a glass of water and pills. You stared at them and then at him. He knew that you hated taking pills. You always bought the liquid form for your own sake. The only reason you had normal pills is because of him and Matt and Karen for when her periods got bad.

“He’s patrolling, making sure you’ll be safe,” Frank explained. You were glaring at the pills that he offered out to you and he sighed. He placed the glass on the table and put the pills next to it, “You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” You rolled your eyes and watched as he walked back to the kitchen. Everything hurt. Your face, your body, your feet, your ankles, your hands. When you lifted your hands up, you could make out the bruises in the gloom and there were ugly marks around your wrists from where you had been tied up.

You shoved your hands under your armpits, hiding them from your sight as you waited for Frank to return but even that movement made you hiss out in pain. After a moment Frank returned, with your usual bottle of painkillers. You always bought the kids stuff because it was the only one that was reliably in liquid form. You knew it was silly but you hated swallowing pills and your periods were too bad to force yourself to swallow them down.

“Thank you,” You mumbled. He nodded and then he got onto his knees in front of you so that he was on your level. He didn’t want to make you feel any worse by looming above you as he spoon-fed you painkillers like he would a baby.

“I patched you up. Red dealt with the rest,” Frank informed as he poured some of the liquid onto a spoon with the precision only a Marine would have. Usually, you spilt the liquid everywhere but he seemed to have practice with it.

“Explains why it hurts so much,” You retorted, practically teasing him. He narrowed his eyes, holding the spoon of painkillers away from you, “Frank,” You whined. He chuckled and then moved the spoon forward so that you could take it into your mouth. You swallowed down the liquid and watched as he poured another spoonful, “How long is it gonna hurt for?” It was a stupid question, you knew that. It was probably going to hurt for weeks, if not months considering the damage that they had done but you wanted him to lie.

“You’ll just have to see, sweetheart. Gonna have to take some time off work with an injury like that,” He said as he held the spoon out to you again. You took it gratefully and then he poured another one just for good measure.

“My boss is gonna kill me,” You mumbled. Frank scoffed and he then held the last spoonful of medicine out to you.

“If he gives ya any trouble, I’ll deal with it.” If it was anyone else, you would have laughed off those words but this was Frank and you knew he meant what he said. A soft sigh escaped your lips once Frank put the spoon onto the bedside table. He then twisted the cap back onto the bottle before he placed it down beside your glass of water.

“How bad is it?” You asked after a beat of silence. Frank was just looking at you, concern etched across his features.

“I’d still call you a pretty lady,” He said. You let out a soft huff and glanced over at the water but Frank passed it before you could hurt yourself doing it. You took the glass gratefully and cautiously took a long sip. It soothed your dry throat and you were so glad to get something to drink. You were sure that you were incredibly dehydrated after all the tears and the blood.

Frank took the glass back from you when you had drained the whole thing and he slowly got to his feet. It seemed he was going to get you another glass and you wanted to go with him. So, once he was in the other room, you pushed yourself to your feet again. It was slow and you made sure to keep the pressure off anywhere that hurt and you were on your feet, comfortably.

Each step was slow and he heard you step into the other room, his head snapping back. He narrowed his eyes, placing the water jug down before he turned to look at you. He shook his head slightly at the fact that you were walking around.

“They could have done worse,” You said before he got the chance to comment, “Can still walk.” There was a small smile on your face, trying to make light of what had happened but it was hard considering how much your body hurt with every movement.

“Don’t tempt them, darling,” He retorted. You made it over to the kitchen counter and he took a hold of your waist, keeping you steady as you took the glass. You downed the water again before placing the glass down and limping over to the fridge. You needed something to eat, your stomach was growling for it but when you looked inside, there were no leftovers. Your roommate - who worked the night shift - must have taken them with her.

“Hungry?” He asked. You nodded and he glanced over your shoulder before he grabbed a few things from the shelves, “I’ll make you something, go lie on the couch.” You let out something akin to a ‘yes’ before you hobbled over to the sofa and lay down. Your head hurt, your body hurt and you were glad that Frank was here.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x you #frank castle fluff #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x female reader #the punisher fluff #the punisher x reader #reader-insert #banged up

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stargirlygirl · 20 days ago

Text

you smell like fish

fisherman!bakugou x siren!fem!reader

⭑.ᐟ part six: aftermath

summary: katsuki is lost without you, so imagine his surprise when he gets a knock on his front door late at night from a certain siren.

contains: alcoholic katsuki, fluff, hurt comfort, swearing, happy ending, 2.6k words

Katsuki hands a certain redhead sitting on his porch a sugared-up latte. The waves smash down on the rocks to one side, while the woods croak on the other side. The blonde plops down on the adjacent cane chair and takes a sip of his black coffee.

Eijiro breaks the quiet between them with, “It’s such a shame, man. I know you really liked her.”

Katsuki chuckles shortly, the sound icy, “Yea, I did.” His voice drops to a whisper, close to being swallowed up by the salty gust. “I still do.” The redhead hums, gulping down his coffee.

“D’you wanna talk about it?” He suggests.

The blonde groans, “’Course not.” Silence befalls the space between the two fishermen as they gaze at the beach. The birds chirp, and the white sun filters through the thick cloud cover.

Katsuki grumbles at last, “Just… didn’t think she’d up ‘n leave, ya know? I thought we could fix it. But, I guess she felt differently.” Eijiro nods. A notification pings. The redhead apologises as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“Mina,” he says warmly. After responding to her text, he sets his phone down on the little table nearby. Clearing his throat, Eijiro urges the blonde to keep talking.

Katsuki shrugs, “S’fine, really.” He practically inhales his coffee, but the caffeine does little to energise him.

Eijiro asks, “So, what’re you gonna do with your month off?”

“Don’t you fuckin’ start,” the blonde grumbles.

“I mean, yea, it sucks but, what did you expect Tenya to do? Touya’s been hospitalised because of the accident,” the redhead remarks.

“Tch. Deserved it,” Katsuki grunts.

“Come on, Bakubro. I know you hate him, but he didn’t deserve it.”

The blonde sighs, “Yer right. Shoulda been me, I guess.” Eijiro sets his ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug down and claps Katsuki’s shoulder.

“That’s not what I meant,” the redhead clarifies.

Katsuki shakes his head, groaning, “I know… But now I gotta pay all his fuckin’ medical bills.” Eijiro chuckles. The sound is far too warm and light for the darkness creeping up on his best friend. Katsuki shrugs off the redhead’s hand and shifts back in his seat, tipping his head up and soaking in the sensation of the wind biting his cheeks.

Eijiro smirks, “I still can’t believe he had your house searched. That’s fucked, man.” With his sleep-deprived eyes still closed, the blonde hums in agreement.

Buzz buzz.

“Fuck-sorry. Mina and I are going out tonight, so she wants to know if her makeup looks good.”

“S’alright. I get it,” Katsuki mumbles. Once the sun begins descending below the tides, the blonde sees Eijiro out. The front door thuds shut, and as Katsuki turns around, he feels the crushing emptiness of his home for the first time in months.

…˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚…

The next month off might just be the worst month of his life. When his father had died, Katsuki had of course mourned his loss. The blonde had felt the heart-wrenching pain and worked through it in the years to come. But at least he knew when his father was approaching his deathbed. With you, he couldn’t have foreseen your abrupt departure.

Your face haunts him, as does your voice and fleeting touches. At night, when he’s surrounded by empty beer bottles, all he can think of is you. It’s become a habit of his to trace your teeth marks carved into his hand whenever he’s unoccupied. It comforts him, knowing that you were real.

Of course, you were real.

He’s got your clothes and fishy scent still lingering in his guest room. On the bed sits your discarded night gown with your sandy boots on top. The morning of your disappearance, Katsuki had turned his house inside out looking for you. When he caught a glimpse of something on the sand from your bedroom window, he ventured out to the beach and found your clothes.

To this day, he doesn’t know whether you’ve gone home or if you died trying. That’s what disturbs him the most. What comfort can he seek in your absence if he can’t say that you’re home safe?

Going back to work should have helped. And it did. It helped Katsuki to improve at hiding his hangovers.

Before you were in his life, he was feeling stagnant. Depressed almost with how mundane everything was. And when you were in his life, suddenly he had something, someone, to look forward to every day. But now that you’re gone, he can’t go back to who he was. The blonde tries. So. Fucking. Hard. But it’s like the alcohol speaks to him, urging him to drown out his sorrows whenever he comes home from another gruelling shift.

And tonight is no different. Almost three months after you left, he pops open a beer and is about to take a swig when he hears a firm knock. Grumbling, he sets his bottle on the coffee table and trudges over to the front door. The blonde doesn’t even bother to check the peephole before throwing the door open.

He wasn’t expecting much. Maybe some drunk teen in the wrong neighbourhood was playing a prank on him at 10pm. So imagine his surprise when you stand there, drenched from the sea, glimmering in the full moonlight, oh so bare. His eyes almost pop out of their sockets as he gazes at you, analysing every curve that he committed to memory months ago.

“Katsuki,” you utter. Your voice is like the sweetest nectar, quenching his thirst after weeks in the desert.

“Can I come in?” You ask. His mouth opens to respond, but only stuttered chunks of words fall out. Shaking his head, he opens the door wider and steps back. You slip past him and eye his messy home.

Turning around, you say sarcastically, “I love what you’ve done with the place—” He wraps his arms around you and draws you into a tight hug. His body is like a furnace, incinerating you with its heat. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. You sigh as your hands tangle in his greasy, unwashed locks while his palms press you even closer. Your bodies mould together perfectly, like they were made to fit one another. His head rests in the crook of your neck, breathing in your salty musk.

He mumbles into your soaking wet skin, “Don’t leave me again. P-please.” All of the emotions he’s been bottling up and drinking down bubble to the surface. Hot tears swell in his sleepy eyes and spill over onto dark eye bags and three-day stubble. You slide your hands down to his back and gently rub up and down, just like he did for you whenever you were upset.

Katsuki sobs into your neck, “’M so sorry.” You shake your head and gently shush him, tracing circles across his shoulder blades.

“No, I’m sorry. I was such a burden on you and—”

“Don’t. Don’t s-say that, fishie,” he chokes out against your now heated flesh.

“I-I shoulda been hon-honest with you from the start,” he stutters. His sorrow dips down your chest as you scratch his back lightly.

You mumble, “Why don’t we sit down, yea?” He nods and stands up. His hands raise to rub his eyes, but you catch his wrists and thumb his tears away. The gesture elicits even more tears.

“Sorry,” you say, but he shakes his head and leans down to pick you up. Katsuki takes you over to the couch and sits down on it with you in his lap. He grabs a nearby blanket and throws it over the two of you before resting his cheek against the top of your head. The tears keep flowing as you melt into his chest; his arms still encircle you firmly.

You admit, “I really missed you.”

He smirks sadly, “Yea?” You nod.

“I really fuckin’ missed you, fishfreak,” he murmurs into your wet hair.

You giggle, “I can tell. You look like shit. And what’s this?” You point to the open beer on the table.

“Probably why you look like you haven’t slept in two weeks,” you drawl. He chuckles. You grin, feeling his laughter reverberating in his chest.

Burying his nose in your locks, he mumbles, “You keep me up.”

“But I’m not even here,” you pout.

“That’s why.” His hand slips up from your shoulder to cup your cheek. Pulling back, he tilts your head up and tucks a stray strand behind your ear. He leans down, his nose brushing yours affectionately.

He breathes out shakily, “I wish I had told you sooner what I do.” You chastely kiss the tip of his nose.

“I know,” you whisper. Drawing back, your bright eyes find his teary ones.

You say sombrely, “I’m sorry for intruding on your life, and for the mess I left behind after I returned to the sea. It wasn’t fair to you, especially since you’ve done so much for me.” He shakes his head.

“You can always intrude on my life. Fuck it up. And I’ll fix it. As long as you stay with me. Please.” He chokes on that last part.

Inhaling deeply, he leans back down and whispers against your forehead, “Please.”

You meet his half-lidded gaze, murmuring, “If I sacrifice my life as a siren for you, then what will you sacrifice for me?”

“Anything.” No hesitation. He waits patiently for your answer.

Your voice is laced with honey, so charming it makes him all gooey inside as you confess, “I don’t want you to be a fisherman anymore.” His hand cups the back of your neck, his thumb pressing right below your ear as he tilts your head back further.

His lips ghost yours as he mumbles, “Then I won’t be.” Katsuki seals his promise to you with his lips on yours. They’re surprisingly soft. You moan in his mouth as your fingers tug at his blonde locks, pushing him impossibly closer to you. His stubble pricks your cheeks and chin. You pull back and feel his facial hair with one hand.

“This has to go, too,” you mutter.

“Done.” His lips find yours again, wild and hungry for your taste. He won’t approve of your last meal, but what’s a siren to do when she knows it’ll be her last? The blonde groans against your lips, drunk on your tangy flavour and your soft body and sweet touches. He maneuvers your head to the side while lapping at your lower lip.

You break the kiss, giggling, “I don’t think you wanna do that.”

He grunts, “Believe me, I do.” Katsuki draws you into another passionate kiss.

He whispers between gentle bites and licks at your lips, “I don’t care— who you’ve eaten— I love you.” Time seems to fade as you memorise each other’s lips and tongue and teeth. When you nip at his lip, he whimpers, so fuckin’ relieved to feel your teeth once more.

“Harder.” You obey, biting down into the tender flesh. Blood spills out and slips into both your mouths. The iron makes you hum as you kiss him harshly, your grasp threatening to tear his hair out if he doesn’t share your breath. Hands roam, and soon, he’s got you pinned beneath him with his lips exploring your neck.

You pant, “Katsuki.” He groans before sucking the spot below your earlobe. Your back arches, the pleasure foreign yet more than welcome.

“Katsuki.” He pulls off your neck with a slimy pop.

“What?” He rasps out. You run your fingers through his hair before drawing him back to your lips.

You mumble against his awfully bitten ones, “I’m getting the couch all wet.”

He chuckles and gazes at you with a lewd glint in his crimson eyes, “Oh yea?” You slap his heaving chest playfully.

“Not like that, you fuckwit.” He hums and nuzzles you with his nose lovingly before sitting up and pulling you into his arms. He carries you upstairs to his bathroom and sets you down in the shower.

“Don’t want your fish stench in my sheets, fishsticks.”

“I could say the same about you, drunkard.”

“Alright, shut up and start rinsing off, will ya?” He sloppily kisses you on the cheek before turning the taps.

He grumbles, “Just pick whatever temp you want, m’kay?” You nod as you place your hand underneath the running water and adjust the taps accordingly. Meanwhile, Katsuki peels off his dirty pyjamas and flings them into the corner of the bathroom before encasing you in those strong, muscular arms once more. Except, they’re a little squishy compared to the last time you saw him.

You giggle, poking the fat of his arm which makes him grumble.

During your shower, you lather each other up and rinse off. Katsuki washes your hair for you just the way you like, giving your scalp a nice massage as the conditioner soaks. And you do the same for him between slow kisses and tender cuddles.

He even lets you shave his stubble. It’s adorable the way you sniff and lather the shaving foam all over your hands, so curious, before spreading it across his face. Holding your hand, which holds the razor, he guides you to shave one side of his face. Then, he lets you shave the other side by yourself.

Rinsing the white foam off, you giggle while caressing his clean-shaven cheeks and chin.

Afterwards, he dries you off and moisturises your face. The sweet gesture makes your eyelids droopy, and the dopiest grin spreads across your lips. He takes the opportunity to pepper you with heated kisses until relenting when you beg for mercy. You then soothe the lotion into his skin, making sure to tell him how much he needs it before he tugs you into the guest room.

It looks exactly the same as you left it. You turn around and point at the boots and nightgown on your bed.

He stalks over to you and caresses your forearms, murmuring, “I was afraid that you didn’t make it back.” You shake your head and cup his silky cheeks, bringing him into a sweet kiss.

Pulling back, you whisper, “It’s okay. I’m here now.” He nods and gently guides you over to your wardrobe. You end up putting on one of his t-shirts before clinging to his arm on the way back to his room.

You sit on his bed, watching him get dressed, when you ask quizzically, “Am I sleeping with you tonight?”

He shrugs on a singlet as he remarks, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Nodding, you shuffle back on his bed and claim one side for yourself. When Katsuki turns back around, he chuckles upon seeing the lump that is you beneath the covers. He climbs onto the bed and plops down onto you, making you squeal. You thrash beneath the blankets and throw him off, staring at him with wide eyes once you finally get the quilt off as he guffaws.

You shove his arm, pouting, “That’s not funny!” He clutches his tummy as he laughs, joyous tears welling in his eyes. Katsuki can’t remember the last time he’s felt so goddamn happy. He reaches for you and snatches you up, planting you firmly beside him and trapping you in his embrace.

“It was pretty funny,” he chuckles while tugging the blankets over you both. Holding you tightly, his legs entangle with yours, and his lips rest against your ear. He’s mesmerised by the moon’s delicate glow illuminating your complexion and frame.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, making you smile. You wish him a good night, and he does the same as you drift out of consciousness.

masterlist

images are not mine

a/n: hello, so this is officially the last part of you smell like fish. i know it's coming to an end, how sad. next part will be an epilogue, hopefully with smut (if my writers block evaporates). thanks so much for reading! i hope y'all liked it <3

taglist - @ettesxythia, @sins-over-tragedy, @windyremedy, @beabamboo, @holobean, @lilac-heartz, @mp3nai, @v3n7s, @napbatata, @yannvi, @ilovemushroomss, @dienamiight, @cielito--lindo, @bakunianadecorazon, @waddafaknik, @chibiduck, @dragonictales

#★’s works #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #my hero academia #bakugou fluff #siren reader

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luciferlightbringer · 1 year ago

Text

Love in a Hopeless Place

Chapter 6

Hi lovelies! Please be warned that this is a heavier chapter that discusses trauma and depictions of violence! I'm sure I'm going overboard with the warnings, but I'm just wanting to make sure I cover all of my bases here! xoxo, Dany

Chapter 5|Chapter 6|Chapter 7|Updated through Chapter 12

Lucifer x prostitute fem!reader Word Count: 5.3k CW: Slowburn, Prostitution, Hurt/comfort, trauma, fluff, cuddles, depression, anxiety, protective "not-boyfriend" !Trigger Warning!: Physical violence, abuse, neglect, vague mentionings of underage sex work, drug use, torture, and drug dealing

The next couple of days seemed to creep by more slowly for the both of you, nothing drastic, just... slower, more... unpleasant. It could have been because of how good everything felt to be with each other, but at least for you, there had been another new factor.

You had still been seeing other clients while working for Lucifer, and sure, he took up the largest amount of time, but there were still others, some one offs and some regulars, and a handful of new clients. Most of them didn't give you much grief, but one of your newer clients had taken quite a shine to you, and wanted to see you more often. He was... ok...ish... not really. He was a little selfish, which was fine, but he also had an aggressive personality, and not the fun kind. He had not done anything "bad" to you yet, but he toed the line and that made you nervous.

This had not been as much of an issue until someone tipped him off that you did house calls it was Cynthhhhia, and in the last two days he had asked for you to go to his place, and he seemed to push the boundaries more outside of the brothel. Larry had always told you that if anyone made you ladies uncomfortable, that you could put them on your "No Kiss List", basically being banned from being scheduled with you, and depending on the intensity of the issue they could also get banned from the Lounge entirely.

Again, at this point, this newer guy, Jethro, had not done anything yet, so you still felt like you could handle him, but he was still a cause for some stress. The night of your next visit with Lucifer was a welcome one. When you got too Lucifer's, you pulled him into a tight embrace. He welcomed your hug, but noticed that it felt a little different, a little heavier than usual.

"Well hello to you too! Haha! Hey, you doing ok?" he said, looking at you with soft concern as your released him from your embrace.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" you smiled, trying to hide your stress from the day.

"Oh nothing, you just uh... felt a little tense is all," he said sheepishly.

"Oh! Haha, ya it's nothing. Just a long day. Lots of clients, lots of... you know," you said trailing off.

"Of course! Haha, how silly of me! Do you, uh... need a minute? Do you want to, like, take a bath or shower or something?" he asked, "By yourself of course! I'm sure a minute to yourself would be nice. Plus, I still need to finish up with dinner," he added nervously, he felt his checks tint pink.

You chuckled, you thought it was funny when Lucifer would overthink his statements and felt like he needed to clarify something.

"That sounds nice, I might just take you up on that," you smile.

"Great!" he smiled, "Chose any bathroom you like, dinner should be ready in like 30 minutes."

The two of you part ways as you headed to one of the close-by guest bathrooms and Lucifer headed back to the kitchen. Lucifer had some updates that he had wanted to tell you about from Charlie's meeting with Heaven, but he figured that could wait a little longer. Plus, he was now preoccupied by his own dumb comment.

'"You want to take a bath or shower or something? By yourself, of course!" no duh, you idiot! She understood that's what you meant, why did you felt like you needed to clarify that?! Why do you gotta be so weird sometimes?!' he scolded himself as he made his way to the kitchen. Lucifer definitely had people that would cook for him, but he liked that it gave him something to do sometimes while he waited for you to get there in the evenings.

Meanwhile, you drew yourself a bath and slipped into it. You examined the bruises on your legs and chest from where your earlier guest had bitten and grabbed you. You were normally all for kinks like these, but these feel more forceful, and therefore made you upset to look at. You hid your legs under the water and just floated in the big tub for a while.

You smiled to yourself again as you thought of Lucifer stumbling over himself 'You want to take a bath or shower or something? By yourself, course!' followed by that little nervous smile. It was cute, and it was funny that he kept forgetting that he could just request that if he wanted to. You wouldn't have minded, you honestly would have liked it. He would be so warm and soft, snuggling into your chest in the warm water. You realized you had only ever seen him down to a barely opened shirt, while he has seen you down to your lingerie, for a fleeting minute.

How odd it was, that he had been one of your longest running and most consistent clients and yet, you too had not been sexually intimate at all. It was nice, but also... a little disappointing? Why was that disappointing? Why did you care? And why did you actually like the thought of bathing with him?

Your thought process was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Uhh... occupied?" you said.

"There you are!" you could hear Lucifer through the door. "Jesus Christ, darling why do I have so many bathrooms?"

You shrugged, "Uhh.. cuz you're rich and its funny?"

"Hmm... That is true..." Lucifer chuckled on the other side of the door, "Anyways, dinner is ready whenever you are!"

"Ok!" you called out, and you started to get ready. As Lucifer walked away, he paused for a moment, thinking about how you were naked on the other side of the door.

He shook his head and kept walking, "Dude, stop it," he said quietly to himself.

A few minutes later, you were out, a toweling off your hair, back in your earlier clothes.

"How are you feeling?" said Lucifer as you entered the room.

"Much better, thank you," you said with a smile.

You and Lucifer sat down to eat, and Lucifer was finally able to tell you about the whole ordeal of setting up the Heaven with meeting the exhausting bureaucracy and drama of it all, and then... the aftermath of Charlie's meeting. Charlie had gone up with Vaggie, met with a bunch of the angels and seraphim, including Adam, the first man and leader of the yearly exterminations, and his right hand exorcist, Lute, and... it did not go well. Charlie had gotten them to start actually start thinking about the whole issue, then Adam dropped the whole "extermination" thing on the counsel, and most of the angels in the room knew nothing about the extermination of souls in hell! Consider the tea, spilled. Then on top of that, the council said their was not proof sinners could be redeemed, and Adam basically declared war on the Hotel.

Well, this was very stressful, but in a way that made you care more and made you forget about your worries from earlier in the day. You thought about Lucifer, Charlie, Vaggie, Angel... everyone at the hotel... You were wondering how they were feeling, how they were going to get out of this. So much for your idea about moving into the hotel. You chuckled to yourself.

"What is it?" Lucifer asked.

"Oh... it's stupid," you say with a wave of your hand, Lucifer gives you a look. You sigh, "Just... puts a little damper on my daydream to try out the hotel."

Lucifer cocked his head to the side, "You were thinking about moving to the hotel?"

You sat back and shrugged, "It was... a passing thought. Nothing serious. I realize that probably would have made things complicated, it's probably just easier this way."

Lucifer studied your face, "Maybe after the next extermination, see what happens. I just don't want you to get caught up in all of that right now."

"Ya," you say, staring off. Your worries returning back to thoughts of Charlie and the others.

Lucifer read the concern on your face, and placed a hand over yours. You looked up to meet his soft smile.

"It's gonna be ok..." he said with hesitation. "I don't exactly know how it is going to be ok, I would be lying if I said it wasn't nervous... but I trust my daughter... and her friends seem to be good people... outside of Alastor," his glared off to the side at the mentioning of the Radio Demon.

He was right, maybe not all hope was lost, maybe Charlie would figure out something. You smile at the face he made, then looked down at his hand on top of yours. Your face shifted in thought in response to something he had just said, "her friends seem to be good people..." Did he really believe that? Did that visit really change his mind that much? That's not what he had made it sound like the other day. You had forgotten about that comment, and now the reminder left you with a bitter taste.

Lucifer looked over and caught your expression, "What's on your mind?"

You look at him sideways, "Do you really believe that? That her friends are good people?"

"Well... as far as I have seen, why do you say that?" he said with worried confusion.

You look up at him, "I just thought that sinners were all violent psychopaths, hell-bent on causing as much pain a destruction as they can."

Lucifer froze, shit did he really say that the other day to his daughter, in front of you and all of Charlie's friends? Yeesh.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "Jeez, I really did say that didn't I?" You gave him a slow judgmental nod. He sighed, "I... I was wrong, I shouldn't have said that... I'm sorry... I realized that I have never really taken the opportunity to actually get to know many sinners, and I've passed a lot of judgement on them the last... 10,000 years. They are not like that... you, are definitely not like that... Honestly, meeting you has made me really confused on the matter of how they decide who ends up here entirely."

Your slight distain turned you curiosity, and you raised an eyebrow, "How so?"

Lucifer took a minute to try and find the words, "Uhh, well... fuck, ok... I guess I just don't understand why you are in hell in the first place. The way you treat people puts people I used to know in Heaven to shame."

You blow a puff of air out your nose in a laugh, "Maybe the way I treat you and hotel people, I'm not like this with everyone, you know?"

"Well ya... but still..." Lucifer held back his next question a moment, he didn't want to say anything to upset you. "Can I ask... um... how you ended up here?"

You prop your head up on your hand and thought, being alive felt so long ago. Lucifer waited nervously for you to answer, but he was pretty sure you didn't look mad at the question.

"You really wanna know?"

He nodded.

"Well... I was the oldest child of drug addict parents, who had no right having any kids, spent much of my life fending for myself and my siblings, my parents would not stop having fucking kids and I was basically the only parent for them. I had to do... whatever I could for them, steal from neighbors, stores, random people's cars, anything to get food and money for my siblings. When I was older, my grandmother got custody of us and it got a lot better, but we struggled a lot mentally and it was hard to shake the old habits. She had to knock some sense into me to stop stealing, but I could never get past the idea of needing to be the parent of the house. I didn't go to school until end of middle school, and when I started it was hard, I skipped school, never finished an education. I wanted to... but I was way too far behind by that point, and with so many kids, grandma couldn't get all of us caught up. I encouraged her to focus on the younger ones. I tried getting a normal job, but I ended up meeting shitty people and I get ended up selling drugs and my body to get by. It wasn't great but it made me money. I had bad and sub-par relationships, nothing great. During my last relationship, I was actually starting to learn about boundaries and shit, feeling like it might actually go somewhere... and then I was killed during a bad drug deal," you looked back at Lucifer casually as you finished your story.

Lucifer looked at you with so much heartbreak in his eyes. No pity, no belittlement, no tears, just sadness. "How are you still so full of kindness then? After all of that?"

You smiled, "Partly cuz I can act, but mostly because... everything stupid, reckless, or "sinful" I ever did... it was for my siblings. I always thought that I would damn myself to hell so that they didn't have to." You shook your head, "I sure did damn myself to hell, but... I don't know how successful I was, my siblings always seemed mad or annoyed with me... but... I just loved them all so much."

Lucifer stood up and wrapped his arms around you as you remained sitting, your head at his chest level. You were taken by surprise, but hugged him back, "What's this for?"

He released you slightly from his hug, and held your face in his hands. "If you gave your siblings even an ounce of the care you have shown me, I know you were successful, and I know they will never forget the sacrifices you made for them."

Your eyes go wide, 'Could it... could it be? Could he be right? Could you have saved them? Saved them from the same pain you endured? Could your actions have changed the course of their lives? Could you have saved them from a fate in hell?' Tears started to form in your eyes. 'No. No. No no no no no. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, no crying in front of Lucifer.' You rip your face away from Lucifer's hands and wipe your face before the tears fall.

Lucifer ached to see you tear yourself away and wipe your tears. Until this moment, he had never realized how much of a wall you had up, how much you protected yourself, how much space you gave to him and how little you gave for yourself. He knew the dynamics were weird, this not being a normal friendship and all. Those dynamics were starting to make him so frustrated, he just wanted to hold you every night and tell you how much he cared about you... but things were way too messy now. He had no idea how to untangle this, and emotionally vulnerable conversations did not seem like the best idea right now with everything going on.

"Sorry," you say as you finish wiping your tears, "Thank you, really, I mean it. I'm just... not used to that."

Lucifer smiled, "Well... I hope this can be a good... beginning to that..."

'Nice job Lucifer, fucking nailed it, idiot.' he thought you himself.

You laugh, he laughed with you. Alright, enough of that, time for some tv and snuggles. You also remembered another question you had for Lucifer from you day at the hotel. You asked Lucifer about how he could teleport, and asked if the driver was necessary or if he could just pick you up from your apartment for your evenings together. He didn't know why he hadn't thought about that before, he had been worried about people following the car back to his place, or bothering you, and that would make him feel better. Plus, it would be cool to see your place. You guys made a plan for him to just teleport in to grab you in the future.

______________________________________________________________

The next couple of weeks were a weird mixture of fun and stressful, Lucifer started teleporting in to get you right at your set meeting time and he got to see your place. It was... small, really small, and there wasn't much to it. He made a comment oh how "minimalist" it was, but you just said you didn't need a lot, you weren't used to much, which wasn't completely a lie, but you didn't want to worry him with images of the other girls trying to break into your room.

Outside of that, Lucifer had the added stressors of worrying about Charlie, the hotel, and the upcoming extermination/war with Adam. You would go a visit the hotel crew with him often, but it only seemed to ease his mind while he was there. He started to complain again about struggling a little with sleep, he would fall asleep fine, especially with you there, but he started having nightmares that would wake him up in the middle of the night and would make it hard for him to fall back asleep. You were frustrated that you did not know how to help him with that, but you also knew he could take care of himself. You couldn't fix all of his problems.

You on the other hand... had reached a boiling point with Jethro. He continued to ignoring safe words, become more controlling, manipulative, and aggressive, until one day you had enough. You stopped the scene you were in and told him that he would not stand for his behavior anymore. Jethro did not like this, and you left his house with a black eye, as well as several other bruises across your body, may be even a sprain. You ran back to the Lounge as quickly as you could, trying desperately not to cry in public.

You got into the Lounge and ran up to your room to hide. Luckily, one of the girls you were closer to saw you, and told Larry. Larry texted you, asking what happened and if he could come up to talk to you. You agreed. Larry came up to your room, you opened the door for him to see you in tears, covered in bruises, trying to ice your eye. You told Larry what happened, and he told you he was putting Jethro on your "No Kiss List", banning him from the Lounge, and that he would handle Jethro if he tried coming back in.

You thanked him, he patted your shoulder, and asked if you wanted you clients canceled for the rest of the day. You asked who was left for the day, and the only one left was "Lance". You shook your head, just asking that no walk-ins get scheduled with you between then and now so that you could be ready by "Lance's" appointment. Larry agreed, and left you to your wounds. You had no idea how you were going to pull your yourself together and hide this all from Lucifer by tonight, but you had to try.

You went into the bathroom, ran a bath, played some music, and cried, partly from the pain, partly from fear. You were so in your head from the experience, that you did not do as well keeping track of time. Before long, Lucifer teleported into your room. Lucifer was a little shocked to not see you in your room, but then he heard the music from the bathroom. Oh ok, you must have been just running a little late.

He want to go knock on the door so that he knew you were there and didn't surprise you, but then he heard something else from the bathroom that made him stop. Was that... crying? Was that part of the music or was that you? He waited, the song changed, and the crying continued. That was definitely you. He finally knocked.

You were startled by the sound of the knock, "Uhhh... occupied?"

"It's me darling, I hope I didn't startle you," you heard Lucifer's voice through the door. You picked up your phone and looked at the time. Shit! You quickly got out of the tub.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, uhh... I must have lot track of time. Busy day. Lots of clients. Uhh... I'll be out in a minute!" you say has you hurried to get dressed. Luckily, you had already brought your clothes into the bathroom with you, so Lucifer wouldn't have to see all of the bruises.

"No rush! You take as much time as you need," Lucifer called back, then he went to go take a seat on your couch.

His words made you feel a little better, but you did not want to keep him waiting any longer than you already had. You quickly did what you could to put on makeup to cover up the big bruise around your eye, you could cover the coloring just fine, it was the swelling you were worried about. It had gone down a little, but it might still be noticeable.

Part of you wishes you had canceled on him, but that would have made you sad more than anything else, and it probably would have worried him. That is if he actually cared about you. Errrr... stop that. Lucifer is not like Jethro or the others, he actually does care, at least... to some amount. You just did not want anyone to see you like this, but especially him.

Eventually you finished your makeup and looked at yourself, it would have to be good enough for today. You painted your best sweet smile on your face, and walked out the door.

"All done! Ready to go?" you said cheerful.

"Yup!" Lucifer said, trying to match your cheerful tone, but he was worried. Why had you been crying? Why were you now trying to hide it? Why were you wearing so much make up today? He hadn't seen you wear this much make up since the first few appointments you guys had. He remembered that Charlie once said girls sometimes wear more make up when they were sad because "If you look better, you feel better", so he didn't comment. He just smiled, wrapped an arm around you, and teleported you both back to his place.

You were already more relieved to be back at his place, the stress of the day still held tightly to you, but it was better here. You swung your arms around Lucifer, enveloping him in a hug. Lucifer held you back tightly, softly but firmly. He was so comforting and soft, you wanted to live in that embrace.

He didn't know what was making you so sad that day, but he wanted to do everything to make you feel better. He had your favorite dinner and dessert made, grabbed you your favorite blanket for when you guys would cuddle on the couch and watch tv later, and he was going to find that tv last that you said you used to like to watch sometimes when you were alive, "The Office."

At one point, during desert, Lucifer looked over at you and saw a strand of hair flop down front of your face. He reached over to tuck it behind your ear, but because of the angle, you didn't see his hand until it was almost near your swollen eye. You flinched and practically jumped out of your chair, shouting "No!" and covering you eye with you hand, the other was wide with panic.

Lucifer flinched his hand back, and stayed still. What was that about? You had never reacted like that before.

"Darling, is everything alright? I didn't mean to startle you," he said softly, worry painting his face.

You realize you had misunderstood what he had been trying to do and panicked, 'Shit! Shit, shit, shit!' You couldn't tell what was the greater emotion in that moment, the shame of reacting to Lucifer, or the fact that the emotions from earlier where about to bubble up again. 'Do I try to push it down? Do I run for the bathroom? Shit. There is no hiding it, is there? He is going to find out about it now.'

You start to sit back down, still covering your eye, "I, uhh... I'm sorry... I don't... I didn't mean to yell at you like-"

"(y/n)" Lucifer said firmly, you look at him with your uncovered eye, tears starting to fill up the edge of your vision, "Please. Please tell me what's wrong. Why are you covering your eye? What made you jump so hard?"

You start to breathe heavily, "Are you sure you want to know?" you say with tears in your voice.

"Yes, my darling, I do. More than anything," Lucifer said, standing up slowly to come closer to you.

You look down, breathe, and lower you hand. Now that he was looking right at your eye, he could see how swollen it was under all of the make up.

"Is that... a black eye?" he said panicked. You nodded. He started to put some context clues together.

"Someone did this to you?" he asked, a little more sternness in his voice. You nodded again, the tears were starting to fall. "Someone from the Lounge?"

You nodded, "A client," you whispered.

"Did he do anything else?" he asked, trying to hold back the growing anger in his voice. You nodded. "Can you show me?" You froze, looking down, more tears falling, "Please don't be mad at me, I didn't want you to know, this shouldn't be something you worry about-"

"Darling," he says cutting you off again, "I am not mad at you, I am however mad at the sick fuck that did this to you. And I will worry about you, because I want to. Do you understand me?" You were not used to hearing him talk like this, it was scary, but in a comforting way. His words were growing in anger, but you understood it was not at you, it was for you.

You look up at him to see that his eyes had changed color, basically inverted, black slitted pupils now surrounded by golden irises and deep blood red sclera. They were terrifying and beautiful at the same time. You nodded, finally answering his question, and you started to take off your sweater. Lucifer saw your arms and torso littered with different sizes of bruises and deep bite marks. At the sight of them, horns grew out from his temples and a tail lashed out from his back. Again, he looked scarier, but for some reason, you were not afraid. You actually felt... safe? You had never seen someone so mad for you before.

Lucifer gently and slowly reached out for your arm, trying to make sure not to scare you further. "Is it like this on your legs too?" You nodded. You were about to ask if he needed to see them, when he pulled you into a tight hug. You were confused, but welcomed it. His hugs were always nice but this one felt, even better? All of your bruises and bites started to feel, lighter, and then the pain was gone. Lucifer released from your hug, and you looked down to see all of your marks were gone.

'He could heal too?! Fuck, is there anything he can't do?'

"Better?" he asked. You nodded. "Good, now. I'm gonna need a name and location. Now." he paused, "please."

You hesitated, you weren't supposed to tell anyone who you had been meeting with. But... he had not specifically asked for digression, and he was banned from the Lounge, and it would probably save Larry and the girls some trouble, and... fuck it, it was hell! Who cared!

"What are you going to do to him?" you asked. He smirked with a wicked smile, carefully reached out to softly hold your chin, and with a demonic resonance to his voice, he whispered, "Why darling, I'm going to make him suffer in a way that this realm has not tortured and tormented a soul in EONS, I am going to rip him his own dimension of time and space where he will be able to experience his body being ripped apart, piece by piece, and put back together, over and over again, for the rest of eternity."

You had no idea how to picture that and you didn't care... it was terrifying, but Lucifer's power was fucking HOT.

"Uhh... Jethro Hanson. Big house out in Pentagram city, near the inner city, very bright red, can't miss it," you spit out. He smiles, unfurls his six, big, beautiful wings from his back, gives you a soft kiss on the hand and says, "I'll be right back," before opening a portal above him and flying into it. It closes behind you and leaves you alone, in the dining room.

Your heart was racing, there were too many feelings swirling inside your mind, joy, sadness, rage, fear... lust. God, his full demon form was hot, what the hell? After a few minutes, the adrenaline wore off, and you found yourself on the couch starting to cry again, but this time... it felt GOOD. These tears were cathartic like nothing you had ever felt before, a hard, powerful cry.

After about 15-20 minutes, Lucifer reappeared, the same as he looked when he had left, just wiping his hands on themself after a job well done, as you would after a job well done. Lucifer heard your cries and ran to you, getting in his knees in front of you on the couch and cocooning you in his wings.

"Darling, what's the matter? I'm so sorry, did I scare you?" he said with words full of worry.

You shook your head, smiling and pressing your forehead to his, "No. Not at all. I'm just... I'm good. Really. I'm just not used to... feeling cared about, and... protected..." You choke out, before continuing to sob.

'Shit, shit, ok, what do I do?' he thought to himself. Then he remembered. He retracted his horns and tail, set his eyes back to their normal color, picked you up, laid down on the couch, and positioned you to lay on top of him, your head on his chest, wings wrapped around you. As you laid there, he rubbed your back as you continued to cry. "And as long as I am here, you will never have to know life without that, ever again," he said softly, so softly that you couldn't make it out over the sound of your own sobs.

Slowly, your tears started get get quieter, and your breathing started to slow. As Lucifer laid there with you on his chest, he started to card his fingers through you hair. What a dream you were to him, he had be so cared for by you, and now he was able to give that care back to you. That was honestly all he had wanted, was to have someone to be cared by and for. To have... someone to love.

Love?

Love.

'Oh my god... do I love her?' he thought at he looked down at your soft face. Studying the features of your face as you laid on his chest with this new idea, everything suddenly made sense. The nervousness, the desire for closeness, the way you lit up his world, the way your smile would wash his cares away.

He loved you.

That was about to make everything wayyyy more complicated.

______________________________________________________________

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#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #fanfic #fanfic writing #lucifer x y/n #lucifer fanfiction #hazbin lucifer #lucifer #lucifer magne #lucifer hazbin #fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction #slow burn

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xreaderdumpster · 2 months ago

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X-Men karaoke night

A choose your own ending fanfic! Ending parts to follow :) hope you enjoy!

Word count: 620

It was rare that the whole team had time off simultaneously. Even rarer that you all decided to go out together. The weirder part rather than either of these things occurring simultaneously was that the activity of choice was drinking and karaoke. You weren’t sure who suggested it in the first place, best guess being Morph. But the group seemed to actually be excited to do this. Probably more the aspect of getting absolutely trashed on a night off and not having to worry about missions or the end of the universe.

Scott had booked out a large karaoke booth to accommodate the 11 members of the team joining. The space was as you’d expect from a karaoke booth. Comfortable leather seats spanning 3 walls, a karaoke machine with microphones, a projector on the 4th wall, sound proofing material across the walls and a table in the middle. A drinks and food menu sat in a pamphlet holder by the door next to a phone. Apparently this place’s policy was that, if you wanted anything, you’d just call the front desk and they’d bring it.

As the group settled into the seats, a slightly awkward silence befell you. The slight inner anxiety that the team would be called for some disaster or some mission to disturb the evening. But Charles had ensured you that he had it all under control and to “go enjoy yourselves!” Logan was the first to break the silence with his usual gravelly huff as he got up and walked to the phone.

“Ordering a damn beer. Not doing this shit sober. Anyone else want anything?” He grumbled as he scanned the team. Most members replied with their orders. Scott, who you had sat next to muttered under his breath “Someone’s gotta be sober tonight. What if the Professor-”

“Scott, you gotta loosen up every now and then. We’re out on a rare team night out! One drink won’t hurt.” You chimed in with a grin. Scott pulled his lips into a thin line before sighing.

“She is right, you know. You should be allowed a night of fun like the rest of us.” Ororo reassured, gently patting his shoulder. Scott thought for a moment before asking Logan to order him a beer.

Soon enough, a tray of drinks were delivered by the young woman working the reception desk. Everyone clamoured to grab theirs. The moment the cool liquid hit the back of your throat, you sighed contently. As the group started drinking, the feeling of anxious tension that hung in the air began subsiding. Talk began flowing before Rogue finally stood up and wandered to the karaoke machine.

“How the heck ya suppose ta turn this thang on?” She asked herself, studying the karaoke machine with intent. Hank stood beside her, pressing a button that seemed to turn the machine on. She laughed before scrolling through the list of songs.

“Dang, there’s so many of them! How are ya meant to choose?” She questioned.

“Perhaps you and I should go first Rogue? Actually use the machine we came here to use.” Beast suggested. Rogue grinned, nodding as she continued looking through the set list.

“Oooooo how about this one?” She asked with a nudge of his side. Beast chuckled, grabbing the microphones. A familiar tune started. You laughed as Rogue began singing “Since you’ve been gone” by Kelly Clarkson with Beast trying to keep up.

The night wore on, more drinks being brought in, plates of snack foods soon following. You were chatting to Storm, laughing at how ridiculous some of the acts had been when the top of a microphone was pointed at you.

Logan ending: https://www.tumblr.com/xreaderdumpster/779008200003469312/logan-ending

Scott ending:

Remy ending:

Kurt ending:

Hank ending:

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gloomyshoujo · 5 months ago

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My gift for Kate for the @sheithxmas 2024 exchange!!:-D

I'm gonna put all of my yapping + bonus stuff under the cut, because it's a lot lol. (there's concept art, mini comic, and a drabble, if you wanna skip the yap)

Firstly, I really need to give a huge special thank you to my bff, who has helped me with decisions and just cheering my on throughout this whole project, ily my liege!! <3 And to pejaposarambi who offered his help near the end, when I was losing my mind and gave me SUCH good tips to help me complete this!! Seriously, thank you both so much omfg!!TTATT

So, I tried my best to incorporate a few of the asked prompts: fairytale, fantasy, hurt/comfort or angst with a happy ending (more implied/vague, in this case), soulmates, a bit of 'they're a fantastical beast that can hurt the other' vibe, and something sweet where they're kinda comforting each other? Idk, but I tried aha.

For the fairytale and fantasy, I gave them original designs to fit the theme of both. The whole angst/hurt is more implied, but I tried to convey a bit of a story here; where Keith's sword is wrapped in broken chains, after helping free Shiro, and they're comforting each other.

The soulmates is implied from the stars. Their zodiac constellations (Scorpio & Pisces), are mapped in the sky together, along with their respective planets (Mars, Jupiter, Neptune). I wasn't sure how to place soulmates persay, but I think its romantic and conveys it pretty well. And the water is also representative to their signs too, aha!

The fantastical beast part is me really pushing it lol. But often times, dragons and unicorns are seen as like, enemies or hurt one another in a lot of stories. So I was going for a bit of that here. + their designs kinda resemble prickly thorn vs softie? Yea, I know, ya gotta squint for this part of the theme but I tried.xDD /also has a nice dark vs light theme hehe.

Some quick lore 'cause why not: when Keith was younger, he was going to die (idk, abandonment? defeat during battle? Saving Shiro? idk), but Shiro saved his life, using his tears. Keith was deeply touched, as it was the first time he experienced kindness? Idk. But when Shiro had to eventually leave, he swore to himself he'd repay him one day. Fast forward, and the king Keith is forced to serve, has captured a rare unicorn, that could give him eternal life using his tears? Or force Shiro to take him to eternity/paradise? Idk. Keith fought through hell and back to eventually help free Shiro (breaking the chain), and the two managed to escape, fleeing to a peaceful place where they can be together. Yea, there's a lot of "idk's" and big holes there, but I've yapped TOO MUCH.TT.TT

(Also, can I just say PLEASE. If this had an OST, I'd say the Galaxy Express 999 OST would be it for me. But for this illustration in particular, this song is doing it for me.)

So uhhh, this was a *journey*. I think I've been working on this for over 2 months now? A lot of thought went into it. I only do this level of planning when it's a huge project, and I typically don't share my thumbnails and concepts; because they're garbage and only meant for me. But I figured it could be fun for others to see lol.

For the design, I had a good idea of the theme at least! I wanted to have Keith's design to really resemble a dragon, while also using some elements from his BOM outfit. I leaned into the purple because I like purple, but wondering if I should have gone red. Hmmm. I tried to make him look as intimidating and prickly as I could; almost like if you were to touch him, you'd get pricked like a thorn.:-3

For Shiro, I went with looser clothes; kinda inspired by ancient Greek fashion and gods. I rushed his more, and ended up not having the time + energy to put in all the details I wanted for him.:-( I kept his clothes and hair all white/silver, to make him look like he came from the stars. His jewellery is gold + blue to relate to his zodia planets aha. I was gonna have him have longer bangs, but decided against it as I inked.

Anyways, I wanted the pose to be the same as “The Kiss” by Gustav Klimt. But uhh, once I got all the designs done, and actually started sketching things out; I just couldn't get it to work. I am still disappointed in myself for that, but I had to move on and find ways to make things work. I guess that's part of the process. How humbling.=_=

I don't have too many progress shots, because I suck with that; but here's a few lol.

And then a bonus comic, because I couldn't stop thinking this throughout this entire project.xD Where the real angst lies.

I also wrote a teeny, tiny drabble. It's kinda trash and superrr corny, sorry;;; I wrote it in like, an hour or something with very little editing. But I wanted to I guess explain a bit of the story, in this particular scene specifically. Idk. Sorry to those who can actually write it's terrible;;;

So that's the end! I really tried my best to cram as many prompts into one; I know I changed the designs a lot, but I hope they still look recognizable. I still feel disappointed with myself, because it didn't come out exactlyyy how I envisioned. There were so many bumps along the way, I wish I could have done better. Still, there were fun moments (when it wouldn't slow down my PC lol). I tried out so many techniques, both old and new; it was quite the experience! I'm especially proud with some of the effects and texturing. And I hand-drew soooo many elements. Like, I could have used a pre-made grass brush for ex. But nope! Drew each blade of grass like a loser.=_= (but was worth it; was able to preserve the *crunch*)

And yea, don't expect this level of detail from me often. This is a once every few years kinda piece lol. Usually my stuff is pretty wonky and rushed. But I was happy to work on such a big project after so many years!!

Anyways, if you got this far, thanks for reading.xD Hope y'all got a kick out of it. AND SORRY FOR THE YAPPING BUT I DESERVE IT, IT WAS A BIG PROJECT.

#sheith #gloomydraws #gloomywrites #THIS IS SO STUPIDLY LONG I'M SORRY

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fgojous · 7 months ago

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goodnight n go ( ran h. ) — part one.

it's really bad that you get along so well.

tags. romance, angst, betrayal, hurt/comfort, established relationship, explicit sexual content, bonten!ran, detective!reader, canon-typical violence, crimes and criminals, drugs, smoking, drinking, illegal activities, EIGHTEEN PLUS ONLY.

This was a familiar scene to you—fluorescent lights buzzing, the scent of your cold discarded coffee swirling in the air as you stare at multiple files spread across your desk.

You were looking back and forth at the board, dozens of pictures of criminals lined up on the walls and none of them were the ones that you were looking for. You tapped your pen on the notebook, going back and forth about all the information that you and your colleagues gathered.

But none of them seemed to help.

“This is bullshit.” you muttered as you stood up, hands on your waist as you walked towards the pictures.

“Hey. It’s late. Aren't you going home?” Takashi sat on the free space on your desk, reaching for the single folder. “You’ve been at this for hours. Maybe you should get some sleep. We still have tomorrow, y’know?”

You looked back at him, contemplating whether to pack your things up or stay another hour. You suddenly became aware of the clock on the wall ticking, as if it’s urging you to make a decision this instant.

“I feel like I’m missing something, ‘Kashi.” you said, you reached for another folder and showed Takashi the details you gathered the other day. “This doesn't make sense.”

“What doesn't make sense?” Takashi leaned a bit closer, examining the document.

“I feel like sometimes I’m getting close then I get fed the same bullshit. It’s like they know what we’re about to do. Are they ghosts or do they have some superpowers of some kind? Because that’ll explain things—and oh, I gotta tell you, they've got some loyal members there because we don't have any names of the high profile members. Not even their boss.” you sighed, slamming your pen on the table.

Takashi just stared at you as you rambled on. “What do ‘ya think, ‘Kashi?”

“I think you’re stressed and you won't solve anything if you don't get any sleep.” Takashi said and closed the folder that you were holding, “Go home, YN. That’s an order.”

You frowned, pursing your lips. “I may be your friend, and you may be the Captain’s daughter but I’m still your superior officer. Now, get.”

You sighed in defeat. It has been months since you’ve been included in this case. You were shocked the first time, thinking that your father trusted you enough to give you such a high-profile case, it’s about time that he trusted your skills, you thought.

But that was shattered the moment that he told you that he was only giving you this case because you were too proud of yourself. They spent years trying to know the identities of these infamous criminals but all they got was squat. What makes you think that you could do it?

But you want to prove him wrong—no one knows who the executives are. You promised yourself, you’d be the first one to know. Some will say that you’re delusional, that of all people, it would never be you. But that wouldn’t bring you down, it was never impossible for you.

That’s how you conditioned yourself. That was how you survived all the hurtful things your father said to bring you down.

Nothing is impossible. You will catch Bonten. It’s just a matter of time before you do.

…

“Baby, I’m home.” you whispered, climbing on to the bed with your boyfriend who was currently sleeping. His hair was disheveled, mouth slightly agape as you looked at his peaceful, sleeping face. Looking at him was enough for you to forget all the things that you went through today—it’s like he got this power that could make your problems vanish just by looking at him. You smiled when you saw him opening one eye to look at you. “I’m sorry, I woke you up.”

“What time is it?” he groaned, his hand grasping your waist, pulling you close to him. His scent overwhelmed your senses, he smelled so good that you just wanted to literally drown yourself in him. “You’re just getting in now?”

You used his arm as your pillow, kissing his cheek as you squirmed next to him. “Uh-huh. ‘m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” he closed his eyes again, while you leaned on his chest and closed your eyes as well. You listened to his heart beating, it’s as if it’s calming you—it was steady, grounding. It was a quiet reassurance that he’s there for you.

The room was silent—and just for a moment, all your worries faded. You felt his hand gently brush up against your back, it was slow and soothing.

“How’s work?” he asked softly.

“Fine. Just the same.” you sighed, “I don't even want to think about it. I’m tired and sleepy. I just want to rest.”

“Poor baby.” he mumbled, “Just rest, okay? I’m here. You don’t have to think about anything else.”

This is one of the moments where you wanted time to stop. It’s almost so easy to forget everything when you’re with him. It was simple, safe.

“I love you, Ran.” you murmured.

Ran leaned, pressing a gentle kiss on your hair. “I love you.”

You opened your eyes, and there you saw him looking at you. Your gaze locked, you’re with him for a long time but the closeness still makes your stomach turn, your heart pound. You can feel everything at once.

You couldn’t help but pull him in, pressing your lips into his. His hands slipping inside your shirt—overwhelming you with his touch. His fingers groveling on your skin—you were restless, you were losing your mind over the little things that he does.

He’s kissing you like he wanted to take all your worries away, like he could make it disappear with a snap of his fingers.

His kisses trails down onto your neck, slowly and deliberately. His lavender locks caught in between your fingers. “Ran.. Please.”

“I know, baby.” he groaned, it was like he was restraining himself. Because if he didn’t, he would take all that you are—leaving you with nothing for yourself.

…

“How many kids do you want?” you suddenly asked, you were both looking at the ceiling, only the thin blanket draped over your bodies.

You heard Ran chuckle, with a frown on your face, you look at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” Ran turned to look at you and you did the same, “I want five.”

“Excuse me?” His answer left you dumbfounded, because to be honest, you were afraid of having one—you want one but the thought of pushing it out of your body makes you scared a little and now your boyfriend wants—what, five?

“What? You asked.” he laughed and you rolled your eyes, “How about you? How many kids do you want?”

“I want just one.” you pouted, “Uhm—maybe, two?”

Then you saw that familiar smirk on his face, that sly smile adorned on his pretty face. “Then two it is… but we’ll see.”

“Ran!” you playfully swatted his chest, he laughs then catches your hand, intertwining it with his. “You’re never gonna let that five go, huh?”

“Nope.” you just sighed, you stare at that tattoo before burying your face on the crook of his neck, his fingers tracing patterns on your back.

“Whatever.” you mumbled, “Two or five, I don’t really care. As long as it’s with you.”

You were both silent for a bit then you suddenly remembered something. You looked at him, he raised his eyebrow.

“By the way, do you remember the club where we met?” Ran hummed, looking at you as he waited for you to continue speaking, “It closed today. We arrested the owner.”

Ran ears pulsated as you kept on talking about how you arrested the guy, how you caught them doing shit—how close you think you are to catching Bonten. “I think they’re connected to Bonten, but they're not talking, y’know? It’s so frustrating.”

You realize that you shouldn't be telling this to anyone. But Ran’s not anyone to you—you trust him. You trust him that you would tell him everything that is going on.

You trust him too much that you’re willing to spend your whole life with him and create that future that you wanted.

Ran wanted to laugh. Not because you were being stupid—because it was so frustrating for him too. You were supposed to be just someone he sleeps with, and not call the next morning.

That was always the case for him. But a year later, you’re still here. Having these talks with him at three in the morning—not knowing he’s one of the guys that you’re spending your time and energy looking for.

It was so frustrating because he fell in love with you.

And you’re his enemy. But at the same time, you are the love of his life.

You probably know all the horrific things that he did and you have no idea that it was him that did most of the things that you know. How would you even react if you knew it was him?

Would you still look at him with that beam in your eyes? Would you still smile at him? Kiss him? Would you still love him?

He’s afraid to know.

You only know him as this kind, caring boyfriend who’s never afraid to show you how much he loves you. You only know him as the person who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

You never doubt him because he’s never given you any reason to.

He held you a little closer, he was feeling everything but everything seemed normal to you and he wanted it to stay that way. He thought that if he could just hold you like this and just stay with you in this little bubble that you created for yourselves, he would shield you from the truth.

That he’s not who he says he is.

He doesn’t want to let go of this. He feels like a different person when he’s with you, he was just Ran. Your boyfriend, who makes silly jokes, who stays up with you all night when you can’t sleep—even though you know how much he loves to sleep.

“Just be careful, okay?” he said quietly, you could feel the vulnerability in his voice, like losing you is the one thing that he couldn’t bear. “Promise me.”

“I promise.” you kissed him gently, “You don’t have to worry, there’s nothing to worry about.”

But there is.

He knows how dangerous this is. He knows what things you’ll do just to catch them… him.

And when that day comes, he doesn’t know what to do.

…

Your alarm echoed throughout the room, Ran wasn’t there but it was usual for you. There were times that he was needed this early for work—you never really questioned him about it. You reached for your phone and you saw a text from him.

‘Got pulled into work early. I’m sorry. I’ll see you tonight? I love you.’

You typed a reply and settled your phone down to get ready for the day. You sighed as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you don't even know what's going to happen today.

It was odd, how you keep on remembering the things that Ran said last night.

You shrugged it off. It’s probably nothing.

“Morning, YN. Had a good sleep?” Takashi greeted you as soon as you settled your things down at your desk.

“Yeah.” you sipped your freshly brewed coffee and immediately looked at the pictures on the wall, like that’s going to change anything. But everyday, these pictures taunt you. It’s like they’re telling you that you’re a failure because you couldn't catch them.

It was unusual how today seemed so different.

“You okay?” Takashi asked, he tapped your shoulder, bringing you back from your own thoughts. “Staring at that wall isn't going to change anything. We’ll find something. Trust me.”

You went on for the day, doing detective work outside the precinct. Looking for something, just something.

“This is a dead end. Let’s go back.” Takashi says as he closes his notebook. “They're all saying the same shit.”

“Yeah.” you sighed, “Let’s go—”

You were cut off when your phone rings.

You signaled Takashi that you’ll just answer the phone and he nodded at you, walking back to the car.

“Hey, baby. What’s up?”

“Lunch?”

You looked at the time and chuckled, it’s exactly twelve in the afternoon. Of course, he’s calling to remind you to eat. “I’m about to go back to the precinct and grab some lunch. How ‘bout you, baby? Have you eaten yet?”

“I’m about to. Just wanted to check if you are too.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll send you a picture of my lunch later. Okay?” you giggled, you heard him laugh on the other side of the call. “Good girl. I’ll see you later, I love you.”

“Me too.”

“Me too, what?”

“I love you.”

…

‘Hey, handsome. I’m heading home. What do you want for dinner?’

You put your phone in your pocket as soon as you sent the text. You didn't have anything significant today so you decided to go home early, cook for Ran, you thought, for a change.

He was always the one cooking for the two of you because you're usually the one who comes home late. Plus, you wanted to do something nice for him, he had been so understanding and patient with you—and your very demanding job.

After you packed up your things, you looked at the phone to see if he responded. But there was nothing on your notifications.

It wasn't odd. Maybe he’s just busy today.

You were driving home when you caught something—you spy with your pretty little eye—someone with lavender hair. In his car, driving past you.

“Ran?”

You weren't supposed to turn the car around and follow him. You trust him, right? But why was he going in this direction?

This isn't the way to your apartment. And certainly, it isn't the way to his work. Where are you going, Ran?

You were about to reach for the dashboard to call him. But you stopped yourself, you were afraid.

You don't want to catch him in a lie.

Because he's not the type to do that. He’s your Ran. What would he lie about? You gripped the steering wheel, your heart pacing as fast as it shouldn't be. This isn't you, you keep telling yourself.

You were trying to find all the right reasons as to why you were trailing your boyfriend. Like he’s some criminal that you were following.

But why are you feeling this way? Is he cheating on you? Is he doing something… horrible? Maybe you should turn the car around, drive back to the apartment and wait for him there.

Just stay there, in the bubble. You’ll be good there.

But it will kill you, not knowing things.

Maybe that’s what you should've done. You're so lost in your thoughts that you didn't notice that you were driving out of town, into some unfamiliar place you’ve never been.

Finally, he stops. He’s in a busy town, entering a… restaurant?

Fuck’s sake, maybe he’s just buying food. “What the hell am I think—”

Your brows furrowed as you saw some familiar face, walking into the same place your boyfriend just walked into. That’s the fucker that you arrested last month, the one who escaped—you fucking don't know how.

You walked out of your car, discreetly walking to the back of the establishment. You didn't want to alarm the guy you arrested, he’ll probably know who you are.

You certainly can't take him alone.

You saw a backdoor and was about to reach for the knob when you felt something on your back. It was too familiar for you not to know what it is. “If I were you, I wouldn't do that.”

His voice was cold, almost making you shiver. “Sorry, I’m just lost—”

“Don't make that dumb shit up with me.” you bite your lip, your body tensed up as you try to turn your head, looking at the man who’s holding your life in his hand right now.

You saw his face, scars on both sides of his mouth, he’s got long cerise hair. He knocked on the door and you saw the tattoo on his forearm.

You swallowed, your stomach churning as you recognized that tattoo. That’s the one on your boyfriend’s neck, it’s the same one.

You couldn't even begin to process what was happening when the door opened. It was another man, with long lavender hair. With the same tattoo on his neck… just like Ran.

He looks awfully a lot like your boyfriend.

“YN?”

“You know her?”

Of course, he knows you. He knows you.

“H-how the fuck do you know me?” your words stuttered, your mouth was dry and you couldn't even think straight. “What the fuck is happening?”

“I should be the one asking you questions. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“That’s enough.” the man behind you spoke, “You’re coming with us, lady.”

You froze as you piece things together. It makes you sick, you couldn't even fathom what you're about to discover. You weren't scared, you were confused.

What was Ran doing here?

Why… just why?

They led you through a dimly lit hallway. You were out of yourself, you were trying to make sense out of all this. So many questions were running on the back of your mind.

Your heart was racing, your mind thinking all of the worst that could happen, but most of all, you were thinking what could possibly be Ran’s connection to these people?

Why was he here?

Finally, you reached the end of the hallway. The door opened and what greeted you was silence, you were surrounded by men that you don't recognize except for one.

He was there. Standing like he’s one of them.

He froze the second his gaze landed on you. You couldn't say anything else but his name.

“R-ran?”

You wanted to leave. You wanted to go home because you don't want to know about this. You were regretting your decision of ever following him here.

You wanted to go back to your bed, laugh with him until three in the morning. Talk about the house, the kids, the life that you both wanted.

“Oh. This is your girlfriend, isn't it?” The man with a scar on his face mockingly said, “Well, isn't she pretty?”

You felt your chest tighten, everything was hitting you all at once—the hurt, the anger. Everything.

They were all looking at you like you were a threat. But you didn't care, you were just looking at him. Waiting for him to tell you what this is. Waiting for him to come and take you away but he doesn't move.

“Sanzu.” Another man speaks, the one sitting in the middle—with the white hair. Sanzu, the one holding a gun behind your back walks towards him and whispers something to him.

“What do ‘ya think, Ran? What should we do with your little girlfriend?” Sanzu asked, “Should we set her free or should we..?”

Sanzu cocked his gun and pointed it at you, again.

“W-what the fuck is happening?” you find your voice, though it trembled you gave your all to stay composed, “Ran, could you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

Sanzu laughed, “You really don't know, huh? Aren’t you a detective? You didn't know you were dating one of us?”

“One of what?”

Fuck.

Fu—

“Bonten, darling.” he smirked, “Aren't you looking for us, well, we’re here! And you’re living with one, isn't that great?”

You felt stupid, these are the criminals that you were looking for months. This was the missing piece. They're staring you in the face. You were in the smack dab, middle of it all. You were sleeping beside him, you were touching him, the one you were looking for was telling you he loves you, right to your face and you were too stupid.

Too trusting not to know.

You form your fist into a tight ball, your nails sinking into your skin. You don't know what your fate is, all you know is, you were hoping all this was just a dream.

A sick, twisted, horrible dream.

Ran walked towards you, they're just watching what he does next. You froze when he reached for his gun but then he placed it on your hand, “Shoot me, YN.”

“Ran.”

“Shoot me.”

Your tears were brimming, you gasped as you gripped the gun—your finger on the trigger, pointing it at him. Everyone was looking at you like it was their form of some sick entertainment—nobody was doing anything.

“Do it, baby.” he says softly, “Kill me.”

“I..”

This was what you wanted these past few months, right? You told him that. You were so frustrated that you wanted to kill all of them on sight.

But why couldn't you do it, right now?

Why does it have to be him?

“I can't.” you slowly let go of the gun, placing it in his hand. Ran didn't care if they shot him but he wanted to get you out. And he knows he couldn't do that safely, if you didn't prove yourself to them.

You couldn't kill him.

That was assurance enough. For now.

#ran x reader #ran x yn #ran x you #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani x yn #ran haitani x you #ran haitani angst #ran haitani smut #ran haitani #ran haitani tokyo revengers #tokrev x reader #tokrev x you #tr ran #tokrev angst #tokrev #tokyo revengers x you

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immedealwithit9855 · 16 days ago

Text

How BayGuys react to S/O whispering in their ear......

"Picture This, Sicily!" (Sophia Petrillo)

I had to use that, shes my girl and ya Gotta love the oldies, ya'll. Now imagine ya man has some down time or Occupying himself with his usual routine. Then you come and start whispering that in his invisible ear........

youtube

RAPHAEL

He was knitting a sweater while you came to visit

You enjoyed watching him knit

He was embarrassed at first, but after reassuring him, he slowly became comfortable with you being around

You loved and adored him, you also liked riling him up

He watched as you waltzed your fine self over to him

Leaned forward so your lips were ghosting his ear

"You make me so wet, Raphael. Even now, my undies are soaked just watching you!" You cooed

He stopped in the middle of a stitch, looked at you with a 'Really' type face

He took a deep breath, giving a warning simple enough for you to understand

"Ya got til I reach dis last row, ta get as far away from me as ya can!" He smirks as he quickens his knitting

Your eyes grew, bolting out of his room

You knew darn well you could NOT outrun that hotheaded behemoth, much less his brothers

This is what ya'll enjoy the most before he banged your brains out

"The Chase!"

DONATELLO

He was underneath the truck assisting him

Raph was too busy chasing skirts to help so he enlisted you as his helper for the day

You didn't mind because it gave you the chance to be close to him, bond with him

You've been crushing on him a lot lately, yet you were so shy it hurt

Little did you know, he was feelin' you too, but struggled given what he is

He got out from underneath the truck and started to work on the front

You sat and watched him, his toned behind🥵🥵

Enough was enough, what have you got to lose?

You stood beside him, lips pointed at his invisible ear

"I can't take this no more. I like you, Donnie. Please tell me you feel this too!"

The tool he held almost fell on his foot

He was speechless, he squeaked a little

You face each other

He embraces you, kissing you hard

"I feel it too. I wanna feel more!" Donnie churs.

Mikey watches and snickers at you being carried to Donnie's room

LEONARDO

He was sharpening his blade when he heard your voice, greeting his brothers

You and him were inseparable

Neither of you expected it to go this far, but you did

You knocked on his door, he granted you entry

You kissed his head, enjoying his churring (He ain't gonna do it in front of his brothers)

You sat on the side, continuing the book her recommended while finished his katana

A certain part of the book had your mind drifting to a more sizzling side

You placed the bookmark in your spot, crawled over to Leo until you were beside his ear

What you said nearly caused him to cut himself

"I Wanna Have Your Baby, Leonardo." You whispered.

He became a statue, literally

You began to wonder if you broke him, then he grabbed you by the waist and tossed you on his bed

You noticed his eyes turning black as he undressed himself, then undressed you

"Wanna have my baby? You got it!" He growls, climbing the bed to plant his seed

It was after when you found out he was in season

Who said ya'll was done?

MICHAELANGELO

He was playing his video games, enjoying his break

You walk in, kissing his cheeks, sitting right beside him

You brought a pizza down for him to add to the occasion

Watching him just being him always made you smile

He was happy to see you but wanted to finish his game before properly greeting you

An idea came to mind and you wanted some turtle action

Whipping your hair to the side, you kissed his cheeks

"Wouldn't you rather me play with your joystick? Ready Player 1."

He lost the game, but he's about to start a new one

You sensed his demeanor, you opened the box, showing him the heart shaped pizza you had made just for him

That fun-lover dropped that controller, whispering back to you

"You can play with this joystick anytime you want, girl!"

He tosses you over his shoulder and takes you straight to his room

Bringing the pizza with him

Donnie and Raph rolling their eyes at the bothersome scene

@raisin-shell

#tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt bayverse #bayverse leonardo #bayverse raphael #bayverse donnie #bayverse mikey #bayverse turtles #tmnt aged up #tmnt headcanons #headcanon

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zombie-hickey · 1 year ago

Text

[Dead and Unburied]

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, Zombie!Ghost, Gore, Violence, Reader is a bit messed up, Angst, Hurt mostly without Comfort

Summary: Ghost is dead but you just can't let go.

You feel disgusting... Sick in the head some might say.

Your hands shake as you stare down at the rusted chains, wrapped around the man's ankles and wrists... Could you even call him a man anymore?

×🩷×

"Damn it. Get the fuck out of here- now."

A large chunk taken out of his arm, the stench of rotten flesh and the burn of fresh blood infects your senses, it's enough to choke you... You're no stranger to infected, you know how this all goes. You've watched it over and over...

You can't lose him too. He's all that's left in this shattered world. What's the point if you're completely alone?

"Live for me. Survive this."

It's a command and a plea all at once, pleading with you to go on in hopes of a better future... Maybe you're weak though. Too weak.

×🩷×

You know this is all wrong- nothing about this is logical. You can't help but imagine what the others would say if they could see you now.

"Ya gotta let him go."

"This ain't right. That isn't him anymore, lass."

"It's okay, Strawberry... Just breathe."

Price, Soap and Gaz... Their voices haunt you as well as the screams of so many others, you don't even know if they are out there somewhere or not.

Suddenly the sound of low gurgling disrupts your train of though, glancing over to see Ghost shifting against his restraints, clouded dead eyes meeting yours... Those beautiful eyes you used to get lost in now make a shiver run down your spine.

But it's still technically him, isn't it? It's still him. You have to believe that.

"Simon... It's okay. It's me."

His broken jaw shifts slightly and you'd like to imagine he'd be speaking right now if he was capable... However, something shocks you down to your core. There's a hint of recognition in him- like he has some form of humanity left, a shred of awareness of his past. Awareness of you.

You could just be imagining it though... After all, you were crazy enough to capture him to keep even though he's a zombie now. Just to chase off the loneliness.

×🩷×

Seeing him like that- walking the streets in aimless search of flesh... It broke you in a way you didn't know possible. Yet a part of you just needed him. Needed him back. Even if he can't speak to you any longer or can't recognize you as friend not food- you needed him.

You managed to sneak up on the giant of a man with a crowbar in hand, smacking him with it earning a low growling groan, part of you feels guilty as you restrain him... Especially guilty as it sounds as though he still experiences pain, his jaw dislodged from the harsh blow.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry... I'm so sorry."

×🩷×

Despite your better judgement you move a bit closer to him, he doesn't attempt to attack you which you take as a good sign, raising your hand to cautiously touch his cheek- feeling the cold flesh beneath your fingertips.

"You're still in there, aren't you...? Si... Please tell me you're still in there somehow."

You receive a grunt in reply- though much more hoarse and growly, it's still recognizable as Simon. An actual reply to you...

"Oh my god... You're still-"

Before you can continue cup his face lovingly in your hands, a maggot wiggles out and lands on your knuckle, you immediately scramble away and frantically shake the bits of rotten flesh and the hideous little critter off.

"Ew!!! Ew, ew, ew..."

Simon leans forward to watch what you're doing, he seems a bit apologetic for what just happened... This definitely can't be easy for him, having some form of consciousness trapped inside this zombified shell, rotting away while still walking... Does he still feel pain from it? Is he numb to the sensation of his flesh wasting away? Is he in mental and physical distress right now and can't tell you?

Part of you feels guilty now. Perhaps you should have killed him for his sake- you're being selfish.

"M'sorry, Si... I'm so sorry... I just... I need you."

×🩷×

"Shoot them in the head."

He knew he had to look out for you no matter what, he refused to let anything touch you. You're the one pure thing that found its way into his heart and life, saw past the Ghost and saw Simon. You'd listen to his puns for way too long at a time, never seeming to get sick of him.

The thought of anything happening to you made him sick inside, his guts twisting into multiple knots. He's known loss his whole life- even before the apocalypse... Now it's him and you against the world it appears.

"Stay behind me."

Putting himself in harm's way for you came so easily, however regret seeps into his bones when he's unable to shield you from his own demise, seeing that look in your eyes when you acknowledge he got bit. The pain in his arm couldn't possibly compare to the heartbreaking terror reflected in your gaze.

His final moments spent knowing he can't protect you anymore. There's nothing that can be done- only hoping you'll listen and carry on.

×🩷×

The sound of other voices scare you senseless, scrambling up off the safe house floor and grabbing your crowbar, all out of ammo at this point so your gun is useless. Simon growling lowly and wriggling against his restraints but you just shush him.

"Sh... Shhh... I've got this. You don't have to protect me, it's okay."

Your reassurance makes him settle slightly but he's still rightfully worried... Until you recognize one of the voices.

"Someone's definitely in here..."

His voice is low and smooth... Gaz. You're not alone. They're alive. They came back for you- they...

"Bloody hell!!!"

The door was pushed open to reveal a stunned Soap at the sight of a restrained zombie Ghost.

"I- I can explain..."

#mdni #zombie!ghost #simon 'ghost' riley #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon riley angst #ghost x reader #ghost x f!reader #ghost x you #ghost angst #vee's cod fics

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ysrjune · 2 months ago

Note

Ok so u made this little story about Dallas Winston and yn but at the end she just leaves can you please make a part two Im begging

nah I'm good fam

jk LMFAO yes I can bb 💖 if anyone is wondering what this is a part 2 to---here's the link -> CLICK HERE.

Love of my life you've hurt me

I forgot I even have stuff about Dally on my account.. i need to start making mutuals that dont only write about hayden christensen or sw cause dayum. Also, I know Dally is like 17 and i think I accidentally made reader like 15.. ignore that. She's the same age as Dally.

The rest of that week, you didn't hear about Dally but you did about his gang. You saw them often as well. Going on your walks in the morning, you always saw a boy named ponyboy on his way to school. There was also another kid following him around and then waiting for him outside until the school day ended. His name is Johnny. Everyone knows Johnny and his unfortunate situation at home. You wanted to make him feel like he had other friends other than ponyboy and those other hoods, so on that Friday morning when pony went into the building, you walked up to Johnny.

Not to your surprise, he didn't really say anything. Nor did he even make eye contact. But you being you, you just kept talking. Soon enough over the next month--yes, month, he sort of became your friend. You would walk with him and pony in the mornings to school ever since you started high school again. Still, you hadn't seen Dallas, but ponyboy DID tell you about him.. not that you even asked, either. He just started talking about him. "Im pretty sure he only tolerates me cause of Johnny. Johnny's like his pet." The boy says. Johnny looks over to pony and scoffs. "I aint no pet of Dallys. He just.. we're just pals is all."

It was getting suspicious how much pony would talk about Dal. Had the older boy said something to him? The answer was definetly. During lunch, you sat with pony and confronted him. "Dallas said somethin' about me to you, didnt he, Michael?" Calling him ponyboy sort of icked you out. he said he didn't care at first and that you had to call him that like everyone else did, but once Johnny spilled the beans about his middle name, you wouldn't stop calling him Micahel, and the boy just had to learn to deal with it. "Uhm, yeah. Said you was friends back in the day. He aint around much so i thought that you might wanna know more about what ol' Dal has been up to since he don't even talk to you."

"Is he ignoring me on purpose?" You ask with no shame. Pony looks at you right in the eye and back at his lunch. "I dunno. He doesn't really talk about you." He shrugs. "Michael, you know something! Tell me!", "Would ya quit callin' me that?! My name is Ponyboy!" he knew it was no use to correct you for the hundreth time, but it was a habit by now. "No. Now tell me or I oughta shove you into my locker." You threaten. "Jesus, okay okay." Pony groans and shakes his head. "Don't tell anyone, and I mean ANYONE about this.. so.. he's.. he's scared to talk to you. He feels awkward, Doesn't know what to say to you. Thats all I know, though. i swear it. I overheard him talkin' with the other guys.", "So Johnny knows, then?", "Nah, he knows as much as I do.. I think. I dunno. You can ask him, but I don't think he'll rat on Dally to you. Or anyone at that." RRRIINNNGGG. Saved by the bell.. you'll get him later.

Saturday. You had the nuts to walk over to the Curtis house to get ponyboy. On your way there, Johnny saw you and ran up to you. "Hey, where you goin?" He asks with his hands jammed in his pockets. "Off to Michael's house. need to ask him something about.." You looked at Johnny. "Hold on, he said you know why Dallas won't talk to me." You stop walking and face Johnny. "Come on, John. You gotta tell me what he said! You and I are best friends, ain't we?" You touch his shoulder. "Woah. I dunno about all that." He raises an eyebrow. Jesus Christ, he was so sassy with you. He's gotten comfortable. Maybe cause you were usually so nice to him. "Please John? Please! I need to know! I haven't seen him since I moved here!", "Nuh-uh, no way! It can't be done. I told him I wouldnt tell you!", "So he knows you and I talk? Can you at least tell me what you say to him about me?" Johnny was starting to cringe a little bit. Why were you so desperate..

"Why do you care so much? he's just a guy!", "Cause he was my best friend, Johnny. Come on, please?" You ask nicely. Johnny groaned and gave in. "Fine, fine." He sighs and starts walking the opposite direction, assuming you'd follow. "The first time I ever mentioned you was, like.. a month ago? I just said that some random gal came up to me 'n started talkin' to me. He didn't ask much. Just what your name was, and when I told him, he didn't react like how maybe you'd hope he would. He shrugged it off and was like 'oh, okay." Johnny explains. "Uh.. anything else i've said is just about how you're real nice and I walk you and pony to school.", "Okay.." You replied. "Just let me in on one thing, alright? Just one more thing. Does he not wanna talk to me? Has he been ignoring you?", "Ignoring you?" Johnny snorts. "Yeah, sure. If being in the cooler is ignoring you, then yeah. Totally avoiding you."

Oh.. Dallas was arrested.. how didn't that come to mind? "How long has he been in there?" You ask. "Since a week after you moved here. He slashed some guys tires and then fought him."

TIMESKIP BECAUSE IM #LAZYAF

Johnny was walking around with Two-Bit and Dally. Dal and Two were sort of arguing about something, but it wasn't really serious. It was more like name calling each other. "Yeah? Well that's why you're a big ol' scaredy cat! Too scared to talk to a girl. thought you was a ladies man, Dal." It was so stupid. It shouldn't have bothered Dally as much as it did, but he couldnt help it. "Shut your damn mouth, I aint scared. I just.. got nothin' to say to the broad. 'S gonna be weird If I just stand there in front of her and stare like an idiot. If she wants to talk, she can come to me, but I don;t got nothing to say, so." He shrugs. Two-bit side-eyed Johnny. "Alright, man. I didn't need a whole explanation. You could have just called me a bastard." All of a sudden, the mickey mouse lover started laughing hard. "Man, you are a bastard." Dallas rolls his eyes and turns around for a minute, lighting a cig. "Hey, Jahnny, you wanna go see if--" Dallas turns back around, but Johnny wasn't there. Just Two laughing extra hard. "Where'd he go?" Dally asked. "Man, he booked it! You shoulda seen it. Funniest thing I ever seen!" He cracks up even more, gasping for air.

Banging was at your door. it startled you. "HEY! HEY I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! OPEN THE DOOR! CMON, NOW! BEFORE THEY SEE ME!" Johnny's voice called from the other side. Oh dear, was he in trouble? You ran to the door and opened it quickly and all of a sudden he was fine. "Hey, how are you?" He asks normally and slides in. "What? Johnny.. Why-- Why in the hell were you hollerin' like that?! Thought you was in some serious trouble, boy!", "Sorry, I just needed to get you to open the door." He shrugs. "So, I was with Dally and our other friend.. and they were making fun of each other. Guess what? Two took a jab at Dal for not talking to you and Dallas got offended by it." Johnny leans against your kitchen counter. "Meaning he's sensitive about the topic of little ol' you. I think he wants you to go up to him."

You go up to him? No way! He's the man! He should be the one to say something first. "No. If he wants to talk, he'll start the conversation. Awkward or not, it'd mean a lot to me if he would just man up and at least say hi." Johnny shrugs. "I don't know about all that." Oh God, there he goes with that line again. Lately, that's been his favorite thing to say. "Dal ain't like that. Confident with girls he actually likes." John clicks his tongue. "Oh well. You go on 'n figure it out yourself. I just thought I should tell you what he said." The 16 year old boy says and walks out of your house. Boys.. how annoying.

Not even an hour later, there were voices outside your bedroom window. It sounded like a bunch of guys.. and.. Michael and Johnny? What were they doing yelling outside? You open the curtains and see more boys than you expected. Two-bit Matthews, Steve Randle, Sodapop Curtis, Pony.. Michael Curtis, Johnny Cade.. and Dallas Winston. They were all pushing him towards your window and yelling at him to ask. Well, everyone except for Johnny. He was just smiling and standing next to Soda. But what? What did they want him to ask you?

"Don't be so shy about it now, Dal. You was just talkin' all that, sayin' this was gonna be a piece of cake." Steve nudges Dally. "I heard something about Cake?" Two-bit tunes back in. "You idiot. It was a metaphor!" Michael scolds Two. "Whats a metaphor?" Two raises an eyebrow like he always did. Everyone quiets down and slowly turns to Two. "My God, I was just joking around. I know what a metaphor is." He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "Stop staring. I know im a handsome young fella, but we're s'possed to be focused on Dal and his ex lady friend." Everyone looked back at you and Dallas.

"Um.. what are y'all doing here." You managed to say. "We brang Dallas to you just like you wanted, little lady. Now say something." Steve replies. You give the boy a weird look and then return your gaze to Dallas. "Hi.." You say. Stupidly, everyone cheered and started hyping Dally up. Im gonna kill them. He thinks to himself. "Im comin' in, alright?" He tells you. "Alone." He turns back to his gang. And so he did. It was so damn weird. He was sitting on your bed, hunched over and looking down at the floor.

"So," you break the silence. "I heard you were in jail." Dally looks up at you and smirks. "Yeah. Not exactly a shocker. I'm always in there for something.", "Is that supposed to impress me? the whole bad boy act?", "Woah. I don't know about all that." Jesus Christ, so this is where Johnny got that dumb line from. "Nah, it wasn't to impress you. I was just telling you the truth. Even when I don't even do anything wrong, they'll still lock me up. Them cops don't like me, so they'll find any reason to throw me in jail." You nod and tap your foot on the floor. "That's nice, sweetheart." You tell him. Dally chuckles. "So what's been up with you, huh? Your boyfriend been calling you from across the country?", "No. We broke up. How did you even know I had a boyfriend?" You ask curiously. "Johnny tells me everything you tell him. Not like I even ask, but he just tells me." Of course he does.

"Dallas." You mutter his name after a moment of silence. "Why did you just leave like that? You left without telling me anything."

Dally sighs and rolls his eyes. "Look, it's not even that serious.", "Yes it is! I was worried! I thought you had died or something!", "Dramatic. Always been so dramatic, you." He groans. "I didn't have enough time, alright? I had to leave as soon as possible. Guys were after me. A whole group. I couldn't stay in New York.", "Why didn't you write?" Your eyes water. "I was poor. Any money I had, I had to use for food. My apologies for not wanting to stay hungry and write a letter instead." He gets sarcastic. "Man, I still couldn't write to you if I wanted to if you were still in New York. I don't know how to spell correctly. I wouldn't even know what to say. Hi, i'm not dead?" Dally scoffs. "Dallas, do you really think i'd care if you spelt a few things wrong? Who cares? Not me. I would have been happy to even see the 'Hi, i'm not dead' message.", "Yeah, right. You were better off without knowing anything else about me. Man, you're better off without me right now! I'm just trouble." He stands up from the bed.

"Where are you going?!" Your tears travel down your hot cheeks. "We aren't done with this conversation. Sit back down!" Your voice was shaky and breathy. "Yes we are. We're done, We been done." He snapped back. "So just like that? You're gonna leave me all over again." Dally stares you down. "Yeah. I guess I am. But this time I'll actually say goodbye." He mutters. "C'mere." He walks over to you and gives you a tight hug. "Listen to me when I say this. I ain't good for you. I ain't good for nobody. It's best you stay away from me. We can't be friends again. I ain't the twelve year old boy you used to like. I'm much worse." He whispers and kisses your head. "Im leaving now. Have a good afternoon." Dally says and finally leaves.

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