#hey dog everyone's got curves!

[jmetriesdrawing]

Doodlin' some CURVES

[misaerabl]

Dead Girl Walking

(You do not need to watch Heathers to read this!) Ellie as JD and Reader as Veronica

Minors and Men DNI / Word Count: 9.4k words

SUMMARY: You just made the biggest mistake of your high school life: crossing the most popular girl in school. She was supposed to be your friend, but even you couldn’t ignore her ruthless, queen-bee ways. The fallout is inevitable—she’ll not only banish you from the social circle but will likely make your life an endless nightmare. Or worse, she might make you regret you ever dared to challenge her. Knowing that your time in this school, and maybe your life, is running on borrowed hours, you decide to do the unthinkable: live like you’ve got nothing left to lose. You’ve got 30 hours to squeeze every moment out of life before the storm hits, and there’s only one person you can imagine going to—Ellie. Something about her defiance, the way she breaks the rules but still outsmarts everyone, draws you in. If this is your last day, you’re going to spend it doing what you want, consequences be damned.

WARNINGS: the characters are fucking insane, fingering, use of those strap-ons where it's double-edged, referring to strap-on as cock and dick, slapping, aggressive sex, mentions of self-harm and suicide, murder, toxic characters!

A/N: you don’t really need to watch Heathers for these to make sense, but it does take place in the Heathers universe so it does help if you've watched/know heathers! Also to all the Heathers fans, this isn’t like on the dot completely the same as Heathers, of course. 

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

The thump of the bass pulsed through Heather’s car as she sped down the dimly lit road. The night felt electric, charged with the promise of the unexpected. You leaned against the window, the cool air biting at your skin as Heather drummed her fingers to the beat, impatient as always.

A sharp turn of the wheel, and the car slid smoothly into a 7/11 parking spot. Heather didn’t look at you as she pushed a crisp hundred-dollar bill into your hand.

“Don’t take forever,” she said, her tone laced with irritation. “And get the sour cream and onion chips.”

You slipped out of the car, the chill of the night settling around you as you made your way into the brightly lit store. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in an artificial glow. As you grabbed the chips, your gaze drifted toward the register—and that’s when you saw her.

Ellie was there, leaning casually with a cherry-red Slurpee in hand, her eyes glancing lazily around the store. She was a walking contradiction—messy auburn hair in a half-up, half-down style, clothes that screamed rebellion, yet a calm confidence that belonged to someone who could take on the world. When her eyes met yours, her lips curved into a knowing smirk.

“Hey, Miss Ivy League,” she drawled, her voice a slow, teasing melody.

You felt a grin tug at your lips, despite yourself. “Ellie.” The way her name rolled off your tongue felt familiar and electric, like a spark you hadn’t known you’d been carrying.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

She took a slow sip of her Slurpee, the straw making a low, gurgling sound before she replied. “What, you think I only haunt alleyways and dive bars?” She quirked an eyebrow, the playfulness in her tone offset by something deeper. “Nah, 7/11s are where it’s at.”

You tilted your head, leaning into the banter. “Yeah? What’s so special about neon lights and convenience store hot dogs?”

Ellie chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Consistency. You know, no matter how messed up life gets, there’s always a 7/11 open at 2 a.m. A place that doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t judge.” She lifted her cup, swirling the ice around. “A brain-freeze that reminds you you're still alive, even when everything feels like it’s falling apart.”

The way she said it, with a half-smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, made the moment heavy. For a second, it felt like she was letting you peek behind the armor, at the girl who needed the chaos to feel normal.

Before you could reply, Heather’s shout cut through the air. “Hey! I said move it!”

Ellie’s eyes flicked to Heather, and her smirk returned, more mischievous this time. She took another sip, then set the Slurpee down with an exaggerated flourish.

“Remember, Ivy League,” she said, her voice softening, “when the world tries to break you, sometimes you’ve gotta freeze your brain, just to feel something.” Her gaze lingered for a heartbeat longer, her expression almost wistful. “Build walls, but don’t let them lock you in.”

She pushed off the counter, slipping out into the night with the ease of someone who didn’t quite belong anywhere—and liked it that way. The glass door swung shut, leaving you standing there, chips in hand, with her words echoing in your head like the last note of a song.

As you made your way back to Heather’s car, the cold night felt sharper, the air humming with a feeling you couldn’t quite place.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

The party at Heather Chandler’s house is blindingly vibrant, neon lights casting deep shadows across the crowded living room. The air buzzes with music and gossip, a mix potent enough to make you feel on edge. You stick to the periphery, watching as Heather Chandler moves through her domain like a queen inspecting her court. Every smile she flashes is calculated, every tilt of her head a silent command.

Then you notice her—Emily Tran, a girl from your AP History class. She’s standing near the snack table, looking uncomfortable, eyes darting around like she doesn’t belong. You remember how she once lent you her notes when you were out sick for a week, her quiet kindness making a rough time a little easier.

Heather Chandler sweeps over, her entourage in tow, McNamara and Duke smirking behind her. Heather’s voice cuts through the chatter, sharp and loud. “Oh, look who decided to show her face here. Did you get lost on your way to the library?” she sneers, the words dripping with mockery. The girls around her laugh, the sound cruel and high-pitched.

Emily’s face flushes, eyes dropping to the floor as she tries to shrink into herself. Something inside you snaps. The sickly sweetness of Chandler’s dominance, her candy-coated cruelty—it’s too much. You step forward, voice clear. “Back off, Chandler,” you say, loud enough for those around to hear. The conversations falter, whispers bubbling up in their place.

Heather Chandler’s eyes snap to yours, narrowing into slits as the music’s beat pulses around you. “Excuse me?” she says, voice cutting through the tension. “Did you just tell me what to do?” The room collectively holds its breath, eyes darting between you and the queen bee.

“Yeah, I did,” you reply, swallowing the fear climbing up your throat. “You don’t get to treat people like that.”

Heather smirks, but there’s no humor in it. Her smile is hard, saccharine, like she’s gearing up to chew you up and spit you out. “Oh, look at you, little hero. Have you forgotten who made you into this? You’ve come so far, clawed your way into my circle, and now you’re turning on me?” Her voice lifts on the last word, as if she can’t believe you would dare.

The crowd gasps, a collective inhale that adds to the pounding in your chest. Heather Duke’s grin widens, enjoying the spectacle, while McNamara looks on with a raised eyebrow, more amused than shocked.

“Do you really think you can play in my world and come out clean?” Heather taunts, louder now, making sure everyone hears. “Because if you think this is over, you’re wrong.”

The room watches, anticipation crackling in the air. Emily’s wide eyes meet yours for a moment, gratitude and worry mixing together.

“I’m not scared of you,” you say, even if your voice trembles at the edges.

Heather lets out a sharp, cold laugh. “Well, you should be,” she whispers, leaning in close enough that only you hear. “Because once I’m done, no one will remember your name.”

With a wave of her hand, she turns away, leaving you standing there, breathless and shaken. The crowd splits to let her pass, the music picking back up as if nothing happened. People shoot you looks—some impressed, some sympathetic, but most afraid to even acknowledge what just unfolded.

The adrenaline only carries you so far. You push your way out of the suffocating room, past curious eyes and muffled whispers, until the cool night air hits your face. Your heart is a drum, thundering in your chest as you move down the dark, empty street, the confrontation replaying over and over.

You didn’t think. You didn’t plan. Your feet moved on their own, driven by the panic coursing through your veins. The fight with Heather left a gnawing emptiness in your chest, every harsh word, every sidelong glance, looping over and over in your mind. Thirty hours till Monday, till consequences came crashing down. You couldn’t tell if your life was over metaphorically or if you were teetering on the edge of something far worse.

But Ellie. She was the one person who made things make sense, who managed to pull you back from the spiraling mess your mind created. You didn't know what you expected from going to her house—comfort, distraction, maybe just to see a face that didn’t make you feel like the world was caving in.

As you stumbled into her neighborhood, the streetlights casting pale glows on the pavement, your eyes caught the lone tree leaning against the side of her house. You didn’t know why you chose to climb it, only that the ache in your chest wouldn’t let you just walk up to the front door. You scrambled up, bark scraping your palms, and for a moment, the world narrowed down to just you and the rush of adrenaline. Each foothold, each rough branch digging into your skin felt grounding, tangible, and real.

At the top, you hovered by her window, the realization of what you’d done crashing in. You knocked softly, heart racing. The sheer absurdity of it all struck you; you hadn’t been to Ellie’s house before, hadn’t so much as looked up her address, and yet, somehow, you were here.

The curtain shifted, revealing Ellie’s face. Surprise sparked in her eyes before melting into worry, then something else you couldn’t quite place. She pushed the window open, her voice a whisper.

“What are you doing?” A smile flickered, half-bemused and half-concerned, tugging at the corner of her mouth.

You opened your mouth to speak, but words failed, caught in the mess of panic and exhaustion. You looked at her, the one steady thing left, and swallowed the tremor in your voice.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you admit, the tightness in your throat making your voice crack. You’re hyperaware of the seconds ticking by, of the clock that seems to be counting down the hours left until Monday—until everything Heather promised becomes real. But right now, in the glow of Ellie’s room, it feels like maybe the world can stop, just for a moment. Just long enough for you to catch your breath.

Ellie’s eyes shift, scanning your face as if reading every fear, every question you’re too afraid to say out loud. The look on her face—half worry, half resolve—reminds you why you came here, why you needed to see her. You need someone who knows the real you, someone who can ground you when the floor falls out from under your feet. And right now, Ellie is the only thing keeping you from breaking apart completely.

She steps back, making room as you slip inside. The glow from her bedside lamp paints her room in warm golds and deep shadows. Ellie crosses her arms, eyes searching yours. 

Without thinking, you move closer to her, your heart thudding louder with each step.

Ellie pauses mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you—?”

Before she can finish, you’re kissing her, your lips crashing against hers with a sudden urgency. It’s frantic, unexpected, and entirely out of nowhere. The shock in Ellie’s eyes is evident, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she stiffens, her hands hovering uncertainly as if she’s unsure of what to do with the sudden intimacy.

You pull back just a fraction, breathing heavily, feeling your heart hammering in your chest. “I—I don’t know why I did that,” you stammer, your pulse erratic.

Ellie looks at you, confusion flashing in her eyes. “How the hell did you even find my address?”

You blink, thrown off by her question. Of course, she’d wonder. You hadn’t exactly planned this. “I—uh—Student Files…” you admit, a bit embarrassed, rubbing the back of your neck. “It’s... kind of a weird story.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow, her confusion shifting into curiosity.

“I—well, I helped Mrs. Turner with the student records for a while. She needed an extra hand with some administrative stuff, so she let me go through the files a few times. It was mostly just sorting things, but I guess I kind of memorized some of the addresses along the way.” You swallow, trying to steady your breath. “I—I didn’t think about it at the time, but when I got here... I just remembered yours.”

Ellie stares at you for a long moment, her lips parted slightly in disbelief. “You’re telling me you broke into my address book from some random school paperwork?”

You wince, feeling a rush of heat spread across your face. “Yeah, I guess that sounds bad when you put it like that.”

She snorts, shaking her head in a mix of disbelief and amusement. “That’s... honestly a little creepy.”

“I know, I’m not proud of it,” you say quickly, guilt bubbling up, “but I swear, it wasn’t like that. I just—needed to get away from everything. And you... you’re the only person who doesn’t seem like they’ll judge me for it.”

Ellie falls silent, her eyes narrowing, but not in anger. She’s just processing, trying to make sense of what just happened. Finally, she shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Well, I guess I'm stuck with you now. Might as well make the most of it."

You exhale a shaky breath, relieved that she’s not freaking out. The tension between you is still there, but somehow, it feels like something else is shifting, too—a kind of quiet understanding.

You’re both sitting beside each other on her bed now, the air between you thick with unspoken words. Ellie watches you, her gaze steady, but there’s a hint of curiosity behind it. The silence stretches between you two, the weight of the night pressing down on your shoulders—the fight with Heather, the pressure of the thirty hours looming over you. It’s too much to handle on your own, and in this moment, you need something, anything, to make it stop.

You could still back out, apologize, and explain that you didn’t mean to make things awkward. But you don’t want to. You don’t want to walk away from this feeling like you're still running from your own choices.

In one sudden, impulsive motion, you push Ellie back onto her bed. The action is quick, almost reckless, and she gasps, taken off guard as her body sinks into the soft sheets. You move on top of her, your hands still shaking slightly as you hold yourself above her. Her eyes widen in confusion, and for a moment, she seems unsure of what just happened.

The heat rises to your cheeks, but you can’t bring yourself to look away from her. For the first time in what feels like forever, you're not thinking about anything else. Your mind is too full of the chaos in your chest to focus on anything but this moment.

"What the hell?" Ellie breathes, her voice a little breathless, but there’s no anger, no rejection. There’s only surprise, and maybe something else you can’t quite place. She doesn’t push you away. Instead, she just stares up at you, lips parted, waiting for you to say something.

The room feels smaller now, the air thicker, and your pulse is pounding in your ears. You’ve crossed some invisible line, but you’re not sorry for it. You’ve gone too far to care about what happens next.

"I don’t care what anyone thinks anymore," you murmur, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "I’m done trying to please everyone."

Ellie blinks, her gaze shifting from confusion to something else—something softer, but there’s a challenge in her eyes now, like she’s trying to figure you out. “What’s gotten into you?” she asks, voice quieter, but still probing, looking for answers.

But you don’t have one. Not really. All you know is that, in this moment, you want to feel something—anything—other than the fear and pressure that’s been crushing you. You need to feel alive again, even if just for a few minutes.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

You know exactly when it all started—the moment you first felt something for Ellie. It was in the cafeteria, and you’ll never forget it. Ram and Kurt, two of the biggest assholes in school, had cornered someone—probably just because they could. The usual bullying, the usual sneers. But then, for the first time, you saw Ellie.

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t hesitate. Even when they tried to intimidate her, Ellie stood her ground, her voice sharp, her posture a quiet defiance. When Ram made the mistake of getting too close, Ellie didn’t back down. She swung a fist at him—hard.

You watched the whole thing, frozen in your seat, your heart racing for reasons you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just the fight that caught your attention. It was the way she carried herself—the raw, unapologetic confidence she exuded, even in the heat of it. You weren’t exactly a fan of people who get into fights, but damn... in that moment, Ellie was something else.

Something that made your chest tighten, and for the first time, you weren’t sure whether you were scared or impressed.

One thing is for sure though, seeing that scene… Made you so fucking wet. 

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ 

The moments were flooding your mind—those stolen glances, the subtle touches, the things left unsaid. They were all piling up on you, overwhelming you in a way you couldn’t quite explain. It felt like everything had led to this point: you, on top of Ellie in her bed.

Her breath hitched, and for a split second, everything around you froze. Your heart hammered in your chest, the rush of blood in your ears drowning out everything else. There was something electric in the air between you two, something that had been building for what felt like ages, but you hadn’t known how to recognize it until now.

Ellie was looking up at you, her eyes wide, lips parted. But there was something in her expression that you couldn’t place—was it fear? Or was it something else? You couldn’t tell, but you couldn’t pull away now. Not when everything felt so intense, so real.

You’d spent so many nights wondering what it would be like to finally be close to her, to feel her warmth, to understand what it was that pulled you in. But now that you were here, with her beneath you, everything—every little moment, every glance—crashed down on you all at once, and you couldn’t think straight.

Her hand found your shoulder, not to push you away but to pull you closer. The world around you seemed to shrink until all that existed was you and her, suspended in a shared tension you didn’t know how to escape. There were no words, just the raw intensity of the moment, the feeling of being trapped in something you hadn’t fully understood until now.

And just like that, all your self-control, all your attempts to hold back, evaporated. You couldn’t think of anything but her—only Ellie, and the pull between you two that had been simmering in silence for so long.

Ellie’s hand tightened on your shoulder, her eyes never leaving yours. The room seemed to grow quieter, the outside world fading into nothingness. You could hear her breath catch, a clear sign that she wasn’t immune to the weight of the moment.

“You’re going to be my last meal on earth, Ellie Williams,” you whispered, your voice raw and unsteady.

Ellie's eyes darkened with desire as she watched you fumble with the buttons of your shirt. Smirking, she reached up and tore the fabric open, buttons flying everywhere. "I hope you know this is going to create one hell of a mess," she breathed, her fingers trailing down your chest.

Ellie's hands roamed your body, leaving trails of heat in their wake. She hooked a leg around your waist, pulling you flush against her. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" she growled, nipping at your bottom lip. I've been wanting to do this for so long.

“I know. let's fucking break this bed… You won't be getting any sleep tonight you know?” Her eyes widen at your sudden boldness, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. She knows you’re not the type to throw caution to the wind like this. Something’s different about you tonight—more raw, more desperate. Ellie studies you for a moment as if trying to decipher the shift in your demeanor.

"Has that fight with Heather really gotten to you this much?" she asks, voice steady but tinged with curiosity.

You can see the question hanging in the air between you, her eyes searching for the truth. “Do you really believe the Heathers would go that far? That they'd actually try to destroy you over something this stupid?”

Her gaze is sharp, unrelenting. You’ve always known Ellie as the type who doesn’t just take things at face value—she digs, pulls, challenges. But tonight, she seems almost... protective, as if she can sense just how badly this whole mess has broken you. You didn’t come here just to escape the night. You came because you truly believed your life was about to end. 

Nobody could control you. Not even yourself. 

You tossed your shirt away, lifting yourself off Ellie for a bit to slip off your panties. Ellie lifted her hips to help you push her pants down, kicking them off the bed. "You're so impatient,”

“I need you…” You leaned in and whispered in her ear, kissing her neck aggressively. 

Ellie moaned softly, her nails digging into your back. "Well, how can I resist such a request?" she purred, unhooking your bra. 

Ellie's back arched as you pushed two fingers into her, her body clenching around them, making her hiss at the suddenness. She nipped at your breast, her moans muffled by your curves.

Ellie's free hand reached down to join yours, her thumb rubbing circles over your knuckles as she fucks herself with your fingers. The sounds of her eating your tits and the wet squelching of your fingers in her pussy fill the room. “Fuck...fuck...fuck…”

Ellie's hips bucked against your hand, her breath coming in short pants. "Harder..." she hissed, biting down on your flesh. Her hand gripped your wrist, guiding you to that magical spot inside her. 

You started moving even faster, more aggressively, making the cheap bed squeak and move. You moaned as she sucked your nipples. 

Ellie cried out sharply as an intense orgasm crashed over her, her pussy clenching rhythmically around your fingers. She released your nipple with a gasp, burying her face against your neck. "Holy shit...holy shit…” 

You chuckle, staring at her as you lick your fingers. 

Ellie's eyes were glued to your mouth as you licked her juices off your fingers, her chest heaving. “You're...you're so hot," she stammered, her hand sliding down to cup you between your legs. She found you soaking. “My turn.”

Ellie pushed you onto your back, her lips curling into a wicked grin as she nestled between your thighs. She teasingly blew cooling air across your heated flesh, making you shiver.

"Make me—Make me scream so fucking loud, the neighbors will think we're murdering each other,”

Ellie winked mischievously. "Challenge accepted." She dove in, her tongue lapping at your glistening folds, probing and teasing. Two fingers plunged deep inside you, curling just right to hit that perfect spot. "Mmmm…”

Ellie pulled back, a strand of your juices clinging to her lips. She stood up, her eyes gleaming with a hungry intensity. “Why'd you fucking stop?” You asked. 

She smirked as she reached for her large strap-on, buckling it around her waist. "Oh, I'm not done with you yet. I'm just getting started." Ellie stroked the thick cock, grinning wickedly.

Ellie grabbed your legs, hiking them over her shoulders. She ran the head of the strap-on through your folds, coating it with your slick heat. She leaned forward, bracing one hand beside your head, the other gripping your thigh.

Ellie slowly pushed forward, her eyes locked onto yours as she stretched you wide. "So...tight," she grunted, feeling you clench around the intrusion. "Relax for me, baby. You can take it." She leaned down to kiss you, muffling your moans. 

“Fuck yeah I can” 

Ellie smirked against your lips, slowly pulling back before slamming forward with a grunt. "That's it, fuck yeah," she panted, setting a hard, fast pace. The room filled with the slap of flesh and your cries of pleasure. "Scream for me,”

“Let me ride your cock…” 

Ellie pulled out suddenly, flipping you onto your hands and knees before grabbing your hips and pulling you back onto the strap-on. "You want to ride, huh? Then ride," She sat back, guiding you to bounce on her lap as she held your hips steady.

Her hands tightened on your hips, controlling your pace as you rode her. "That's it, bounce that ass on my dick," She growled, leaning forward to grab your hair and yank your head back. "Look at me while you ride me, damn it.”

You were in shock at her sudden demeanor, but you fucking loved it. You stared into her eyes as you made pornographic noises, gripping the sheets… 

“Fuck I think you tore my mattress” Ellie chuckled darkly, a bead of sweat trickling down her brow as you tossed your head back. 

“Just get a new one…” You mumbled. “You're not fucking sleeping tonight. Make yourself useful for me, Williams!”

"Damn, you're insatiable tonight, aren't you?" Ellie smirked, gripping your hips tighter as she rolled her own, changing the angle of penetration.

"Fuck, just like that," Ellie panted, one hand snaking around to toy with your clit as she continued to relentlessly pound into you. "You're gonna make me cum, riding my cock so good like this.”

“Yeah…? Good.” 

Her words trailed off into a growl as her other hand grabbed your thigh, spreading your legs wider to accommodate her powerful thrusts. "Shit, shit, shit..." She grunted, her body tensing up as she prepared to erupt inside you.

At this point, the only thing you two could hear were the lewd noises you were making and the bed creaking. It's as if the whole town has disappeared.

For some fucked up reason all you could think about was…

“Slap me” You mutter under your breath. 

“What?” Ellie replied confused at your request.

“I said slap me!” 

Ellie's rhythm faltered, her brow furrowing as she looked back at you. "You... you want me to slap you?" She asked, her voice hesitant, checking for consent even in the heat of the moment.

“Yes! Come on just do it” You take her hands and lead them to your face.

Ellie hesitated for a moment, unsure if this was something you actually wanted, before finally giving in to your demand. "Fuck, alright..." She brought her hand up and slapped you across the face, the loud crack echoing through the room. "There?”

“Harder” 

Her hand came crashing down against your face again, harder this time. Her handprint was already visible on your cheek.

“Fuck… Yes!” You scream, tossing your head back, picking up your pace as you continue to ride her. 

She looked at you with confusion and fascination, her hand still stinging from the force of the slap. 

Ellie's eyes widened as she realized what was happening. A dark smirk spread across her face. "Oh, You're into that, huh?" She grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, exposing your neck which she bit down hard. 

You continued to bounce on her lap. Ellie's movements became more erratic as she struggled to keep up with your demanding pace. She slapped your face again, and again, each blow landing with a loud crack. "Fuck, what's gotten into you?!" She screamed, her voice hoarse from exertion.

Her grip on your hips tightened, nails digging into your flesh as she pulled you down harder onto her with each upward thrust. Her own breathing was ragged, punctuated by grunts and growls as she fought to maintain control. "Answer me... " She hissed through gritted teeth.

“I'm a dead girl Ellie… In a few hours, I'll be nothing but a memory” 

Ellie's face contorted with emotion. She wrapped an arm around your waist, flipping you onto your back. She loomed over you, her eyes filled with a mix of passion and determination. "Then we'll make these next few hours count," she whispered hoarsely.

With a fierce intensity, she began to move inside you once more. Her touch was both tender and demanding as if she were trying to brand the moment into both of your memories. "Look at me..." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sounds of their joining.

Ellie leaned down, pressing her forehead to yours, her breath mingling with yours as she continued to fill you. Her hand wrapped around your throat, gently squeezing as she looked deep into your eyes. “Look at me…” She panted, her pace quickening as she neared her release.

Ellie's movements became more erratic, her grip on your throat tightening slightly as she felt her climax approaching. Her eyes, usually so fierce and intimidating, now held a vulnerability that took your breath away. "Fuck... I can't... I'm gonna…”

Her words turned into a guttural moan as she buried her face in the crook of your neck, her body convulsing as she found her release. The sensation pushed you over the edge, and you cried out, your fingers digging into her back as you came undone beneath her.

Spent, Ellie collapsed on top of you, her weight grounding you in the moment as both of you struggled to catch your breath. The room was thick with the shared silence of heartbeats and whispered sighs. After a while, she shifted, rolling onto her side and pulling you into the circle of her arms so that your faces were inches apart on the same pillow. Her gaze found yours, unreadable yet intense, as though she were searching for an answer you hadn’t yet asked.

You let out a soft laugh, breaking the silence. “I should probably apologize to Heather, right?” Your words hung in the air, teasing, with a hint of guilt.

Ellie’s lips quirked up, but her eyes stayed serious, studying you as if memorizing each line of your face. “Apologize? For what? For not being a bitch like her?” She tilted her head, the question more genuine than you expected.

A silence settled between you, heavy but not unwelcome. Her hand brushed over your arm, fingertips tracing lazy patterns that sent shivers down your spine. The moment felt fragile like it could shatter under the weight of what was left unspoken.

“Maybe she’ll forgive me.” you finally said, voice softer now.

Ellie’s expression softened, the edge slipping from her eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “What matters is now.” She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, the touch lingering as if trying to convey everything she couldn’t say out loud.

You closed your eyes, sinking into the warmth of her, the world outside forgotten. Whatever storm awaited beyond these four walls, you knew you’d face it when the time came. But for now, in this stolen moment, the rest of the world could wait.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

The sun was still low in the sky when you pulled on yesterday’s clothes, feeling the fabric cling to you like a reminder of the night before. Ellie shot you a glance from across the room, a smirk tugging at her lips as she threw on her jacket and grabbed the keys to her dad’s old car.

“Ready?” she asked, her voice husky with the remnants of sleep.

You nodded, a tightness in your stomach as the reality of facing Heather settled in. The drive was silent except for the rhythmic hum of the tires on the road, Ellie’s fingers drumming absently on the steering wheel. You caught yourself glancing at her profile, the early morning light outlining the sharp line of her jaw. It stirred a strange mix of dread and comfort in you, like everything was about to change.

Heather’s front door stood slightly ajar, swinging gently in the breeze, as if even the house was recovering from the chaos of the night before. You exchanged a quick look with Ellie before climbing the familiar steps to Heather’s room. You knocked, the sound loud in the silence. A moment later, Heather appeared, her eyes rimmed with red, bleary with sleep. Her gaze shifted between you and Ellie, confusion furrowing her brow. Then, the realization hit—betrayal mixed with something darker.

“Why are you here… with her?” Heather muttered, her voice hoarse.

You shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Ellie before meeting Heather’s gaze. “I came to apologize,” you said, the words tumbling out quickly, awkwardly.

Heather’s eyes narrowed, skepticism battling the exhaustion on her face. She sighed, rubbing her temple. “My head is killing me,” she groaned, dismissing the tension for the moment.

“I’ll get you something for that,” you volunteered quickly, relieved to have an excuse to escape the weight of her glare. Ellie followed you down the stairs, her presence a familiar shadow at your back.

As you rummaged through the kitchen, pulling out random ingredients in a half-hearted attempt at a hangover cure, Ellie leaned against the counter, one eyebrow raised. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” she teased.

You shot her a tired smile. “Not even a little.”

She laughed, the sound sharp and unexpected in the otherwise quiet house. She spotted something in the cabinet, a bottle in her hand, her eyes glinting with mischief. “How about we give her this?” she joked, waving it like a prize, before pouring it into a cup.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly reached out, batting her hand away. “No, fuck, I’m not going to kill Heather,” you said, exasperated. You set the cup down on the counter, the tension in your chest loosening slightly at her playful grin.

Ellie’s expression softened, and she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around your waist. “Relax, I was just kidding.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Fine. Just grab the cup and let’s go.”

Ellie nodded, grabbing the cup without a second glance as you led the way back upstairs. Heather was still sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at the cup Ellie handed her. She hesitated for a moment, eyeing it suspiciously before taking a long sip.

It only took a few seconds for her face to go pale. Her eyes widened in horror, and she gasped, a strangled noise tearing from her throat before she collapsed, crumpling to the floor.

Time seemed to stop. You froze, heart hammering in your chest as reality crashed over you in icy waves.

“Oh my God, Heather!” you shouted, rushing to her side, shaking her lightly.

Ellie stood frozen, her eyes wide, the cup rolling to a stop at her feet. The room spun, and panic surged in your chest. The weight of the moment hit you all at once.

You fumbled for Heather’s wrist, your hands trembling as you felt for a pulse, even though you knew Ellie had already checked. The silence that followed was deafening, pressing in on you like a vice. Panic clawed at your throat as you stumbled backward, staring at Heather’s lifeless body on the floor.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, voice cracking. “This is it. My future… it’s over. We’re screwed.” The words rushed out in jagged breaths, and tears stung your eyes.

Ellie dropped to her knees beside Heather, her face pale but composed, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. “Hey, hey. We’re not doing this,” she snapped, looking up at you. “We’re not giving up.”

You shook your head, fingers running through your hair. “Ellie, she’s dead. There’s no coming back from this. We need to turn ourselves in and tell them it was a mistake. Maybe—”

“No,” Ellie’s voice cut through your spiral like a knife. Her eyes locked onto yours, fierce and unyielding. “That won’t work, and you know it. No one’s going to believe this was an accident, especially not with our history.”

You swallowed hard, her words sinking in. She was right. It didn’t matter that it was an honest mistake; nobody would buy it. The room felt smaller, suffocating, as the reality of the situation set in.

Ellie’s gaze flicked to Heather’s desk, cluttered with remnants of last night’s party—crumpled notes, an empty bottle, a pen lying askew. An idea sparked in her eyes, wild and desperate. “We have to make this look like it was her choice,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “We need a note.”

Your stomach twisted. “What? Ellie, no. That’s insane.”

“It’s the only way,” she insisted, stepping closer. Her hands found yours, squeezing tight enough to ground you, even in the chaos. “Listen to me. You’re good at this—you know how to make it look real.”

A lump formed in your throat, and you met her eyes. They were wide with fear, but steady with resolve. You pulled away, pacing the room as her plan took shape in your mind. The thought of forging a suicide note felt sickening, but the image of everything you’d worked for slipping away was worse.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you muttered, voice cracking as you reached for the crumpled notebook on Heather’s desk. You picked up the pen, your fingers numb against the cold metal.

Ellie hovered behind you, her voice a whisper in the silence. “We don’t have a choice.”

Your hands shook as you opened Heather’s notebook, filled with neat handwriting, doodles, and half-finished notes from classes you all shared. The sight of it twisted your stomach into knots. You glanced at Ellie, who was pacing behind you, her footsteps restless on the creaking floorboards.

“Write this down,” she said, her voice strained but sharp. “Something about how no one really knows her. How they only see her for her looks, her parties, but never who she really is.”

You nodded mutely, the words flowing from the pen as if it had a mind of its own. Each sentence felt like a betrayal, but you couldn’t stop. Your mind swirled with memories of Heather—flashes of her laughter, the way her eyes crinkled when she was truly happy. The notebook beneath your hands felt like a violation, turning those memories into something twisted.

Ellie leaned over your shoulder, reading the words as they took shape. “‘I just wish someone could see me beyond the mask I wear every day,’” she added softly, a tremor in her voice.

You glanced at her, and for a moment, you saw something in her eyes—vulnerability, maybe even regret. But she didn’t look away. She couldn’t afford to.

You finished with a trembling signature, one that mirrored Heather’s, your heart pounding so hard it felt as though it was echoing in your ears. The note was done.

Ellie exhaled shakily, stepping back. “This… this has to work,” she muttered, more to herself than to you.

You stood frozen, clutching the notebook like both a lifeline and a curse. The room felt colder, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, impossible to ignore.

The note sat on Heather’s desk, the ink still drying. You and Ellie exchanged a glance heavy with fear and silent understanding. Your heart hammered in your chest, every instinct screaming for you to run, to put as much distance as possible between yourselves and this room.

“Let’s go,” Ellie whispered, her voice tight, urgent. She grabbed your hand, grounding you enough to snap you from your stupor.

You stumbled out of Heather’s room, casting one last glance at her lifeless form sprawled on the floor. The sight twisted in your stomach, but there was no time to dwell on it now. Every step down the stairs felt like an eternity, the creaking floorboards and muffled noises from the outside world blending into a nauseating symphony.

As you reached the front door, morning light filtered through the glass, illuminating the remnants of the party—empty cups, forgotten jackets, a broken picture frame. You swallowed hard and pushed the door open, the cool air hitting your face like a slap.

Ellie’s grip on your hand tightened as you both hurried down the driveway. She didn’t let go until you reached her dad’s car parked a few houses down. The two of you climbed inside, and Ellie fumbled with the keys, her fingers trembling as she shoved them into the ignition.

The engine roared to life, cutting through the morning silence as she pulled away with a jerky start. You couldn’t look back; you didn’t dare. The road ahead blurred as your vision swam, the reality of what you’d just done slamming into you with full force.

The silence between you and Ellie was suffocating, filled with all the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say. Finally, after a long stretch of tense moments, Ellie spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

“We’re going to be okay. We have to be.”

You stared out the window, the familiar streets of your neighborhood passing by like scenes from someone else’s life. The weight of the lie you’d just created pressed down on you, an unshakable truth that would follow you both, no matter how far you drove.

The car sped down the road, the hum of the engine doing nothing to drown out the thundering beat of your heart. You clenched your fists in your lap, knuckles white as the gravity of what had happened sank in. The silence was unbearable.

Finally, the words burst out of you in a shaky gasp. “What the fuck have we done, Ellie?” Your voice trembled, cracking under the weight of your panic. Admitting it aloud made everything feel too real, like saying it would bring everything crashing down.

Ellie’s jaw tightened, her eyes fixed on the road, but you could see her hands shaking where they gripped the steering wheel. She swallowed hard, taking a breath as her neck tensed. “I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice fragile as the morning light seeping through the windshield. “I don’t know, but we did what we had to.”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes as you looked at her, searching for answers that weren’t there. “Had to? Ellie, we just—”

“Stop.” Her voice was sharp now, cutting through your panic like a knife. She glanced at you, eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination. “If we break now, it’s over. We have to hold it together, alright? Just… just breathe.”

But how could you? How could you breathe when the weight of what you’d done sat so heavily on your chest? The road stretched endlessly before you, each passing moment taking you further from Heather’s house and deeper into a future you couldn’t begin to understand.

The silence that followed Ellie’s words was deafening, a chasm between you. Your vision blurred, and you turned your gaze toward the window, watching the neighborhood blur into smears of familiar shapes. Memories of Heather flooded in, each one twisting the knife deeper.

Heather Chandler. Larger than life, with her sharp sarcasm and effortless command of any room. The girl who annoyed you endlessly with her need for attention, but who had also shown up at your house with ice cream and a playlist of your favorite songs when you had a bad day. You’d shared secrets, inside jokes, late-night talks when the world felt safe.

Despite her flaws, Heather had always been your best friend. She could be self-absorbed, reckless even, but you knew behind the façade was someone just as scared and insecure as anyone else. She trusted you in ways she didn’t trust anyone else, and in a twisted irony, that trust now lay shattered on her bedroom floor.

A lump rose in your throat, guilt clawing at you with an intensity that was almost unbearable. “She was my friend, Ellie,” you choked out, your voice thick with grief. “My best friend.”

Ellie’s expression hardened, eyes flicking to you briefly before returning to the road. She didn’t say anything, and the silence that filled the car was deafening. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand; you knew Ellie well enough to know she carried her own shadows. But right now, understanding didn’t change what had been done.

Heather was your best friend, and now she was gone. A casualty of a moment that had spiraled so far out of control that you couldn’t even breathe.

Ellie’s eyes flared with frustration, and her hands tightened on the wheel, knuckles white. She snapped her gaze to you.

"Seriously?" she barked, her voice laced with frustration. "A few hours ago, you were freaking out about Heather trying to tear you apart. You thought she was gonna come after you, right? That she was out to ruin your life, and now you're losing your shit because—what? Because she’s gone?”

The words hit you like a slap. She was right. That’s exactly how you’d felt—like Heather’s rage was a ticking time bomb, and you couldn’t breathe without thinking she was waiting for the right moment to make your life hell. But now, everything was different.

Ellie’s eyes narrowed, her voice rising, becoming sharper. “We took care of that problem, and now you're acting like it’s the end of the world?” She laughed, but it was bitter, almost a sneer. “Are you really this worried about killing someone when a few hours ago you were terrified she was gonna ruin your life?”

The truth hit you like a cold wave. You had been consumed by fear of Heather’s wrath, so focused on her anger, so terrified she’d destroy everything you’d worked for. And now, somehow, she was... gone. Just like that.

But that didn’t make this better. It didn’t make it right.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. How could you explain to Ellie that, even though Heather had been a threat, she had still been your friend? How could you say that this was a mistake, an irreversible one, no matter how much you tried to justify it?

Ellie’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts, colder now than before. “Make a decision,” she said, voice steely. “Either you're with me, and we handle this, or you lose it and ruin everything. No middle ground. Pick one.”

The weight of her words hung heavy in the air. There was no turning back. You could feel the tension crackling between you, daring you to say the wrong thing.

You stared at her, at the frantic energy in her eyes, and for a moment, you almost wanted to pull away, to scream at her to take responsibility, to make this right. But deep down, you knew that would only make everything worse. And a part of you—the part that had once feared Heather—knew that sticking by Ellie was the only way to survive this.

You took a slow, shaky breath and met her gaze, locking eyes. You didn’t speak, because you both knew there was nothing left to say. The promise was unspoken, but it was there. Both of you understood it in the silence that filled the car.

Never again. That was the promise. No one could ever know. Not Heather’s family, not your friends, not anyone. This was the end of Heather Chandler—and the end of the lives you’d known before this moment.

You could feel it, the weight of it settling in your chest. But there was no way out now. So, as much as you hated it, as much as it twisted your insides, you nodded. The promise was sealed between you and Ellie.

A promise that would haunt you both... forever?

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

A week later, it felt like the whole town was playing a part in a twisted play where everyone pretended Heather Chandler was some tragic saint. In reality, she had been anything but. Heather’s smile was sharp, a weapon she wielded as easily as a laugh. She was untouchable, rich, popular, and cruel when she wanted to be—which was often.

But now, the school halls were lined with flowers, photos of her with wide grins and perfect hair, as if she had been everyone’s best friend. As if she hadn’t left a trail of bruised egos and whispered stories behind her. The memorial was set to take place in the gym, with its polished floor and banners that Heather herself had probably ordered others to hang while she stood back with a critical eye.

You sat at your desk, the speech paper in front of you nearly crumpled from the force of your grip. You were expected to speak, to stand in front of everyone and tell them who Heather had been. Not the girl who snapped at you during rehearsals or spread rumors just for entertainment. Not the Heather who wielded secrets like knives, knowing exactly where to cut. But the version of her that the school wanted to remember—sanitized and perfect.

"Heather Chandler was... complicated," you wrote, then scratched it out immediately. The truth couldn't live in this speech; it wasn’t allowed to. What people wanted, what they needed, was a story that fit their idea of her. A tale that made sense of the mourning, justified the tears. And so you wrote a lie instead.

"Heather was a leader, a voice that demanded to be heard. She pushed those around her to be better, even when it was hard to see."

Your stomach twisted as you read it back. It was true, in a way. Heather did push people—but only when it served her. And yet, the guilt coiled tighter, because even if she had been sharp and demanding, even if she'd hurt others more times than you could count, she hadn't deserved this.

Ellie’s idea to forge the note had seemed like the only way out that morning. You’d done it, hands shaking so hard you thought the pen might break. And now, that act hung over you both like a storm cloud, pressing down on every breath.

The knock at your door barely registered. "Sweetheart, it's time to go," your mom said softly, unaware of the storm raging inside you. You forced yourself up, folding the paper into neat, straight lines, as if by making it perfect, you could convince yourself that it was okay to stand up there and tell this story.

As you walked into the gym, eyes followed you, their faces expectant, tearful, pretending that Heather had been something more than she was. Your gaze met Ellie’s from across the room, and for a moment, the mask slipped—both of you wearing the same haunted look. You knew that as you spoke the words written in shaky pen strokes, the real Heather would remain forgotten, buried under a lie that bound you and Ellie together forever.

“Heather... was my best friend,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to make it believable. The gym was silent, the air thick with the weight of collective grief and whispered memories. You took a shaky breath, feeling every eye on you, watching, waiting. “I had no idea she was struggling like this.”

The tears that welled up stung, but they weren’t for Heather. They were for the guilt gnawing at you, tearing through your chest like a beast. You shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be doing this. Because beneath the surface, behind the eulogy and the sympathetic nods from the crowd, you knew the truth. You knew that you were the one who had killed her—accident or not.

As the words spilled from your lips, painting a picture of a girl who was kinder, more misunderstood than she ever was, your throat tightened. You blinked rapidly, letting a tear fall, and from the murmurs and shifting bodies, you knew it had the intended effect. The speech ended with a final echo, your voice cracking at the right moment.

The teacher stepped forward, a solemn smile on her face, and spoke. “Thank you for that beautiful tribute. We know this is a difficult time for everyone. The school counselor will be available for anyone who needs to talk.”

You descended the podium, the weight in your chest pressing heavier than before. The applause felt hollow, a charade, just like everything else.

Ellie found you by the corner of the room as people began to disperse, some going up to lay flowers, others wiping tears. She sidled up next to you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re such a good actor, you know that?” The words had an edge, sharp enough to make you flinch.

You raised an eyebrow, your expression hardening. “Those were real tears, Ellie. This... what we did... it’s eating me alive.”

Ellie’s smirk fell, her eyes narrowing. “She was a fucking asshole to you, to everyone. Maybe she deserved it.”

Her words struck you like a slap. Memories flooded back—the way Heather had humiliated you in front of others, the cruel jokes, the power she wielded like a weapon. But you shook your head, the panic creeping up your spine. “No, Ellie. Not like this.”

A shadow crossed Ellie’s face, and she looked away, her jaw clenched. The silence between you stretched uncomfortably. Then a thought slammed into you with such force that it made your stomach churn. That morning, before it all unraveled, Ellie had joked about giving Heather the wrong cup—the one with your experiment, the mixture that was never meant to be ingested. At the time, you’d laughed it off, thinking it was just dark humor.

But what if it wasn’t a joke? What if she hadn’t made a mistake at all?

Your heart raced, the blood thundering in your ears. What if this wasn’t an accident, but something much darker? You glanced at Ellie, whose eyes remained distant, a coldness settling there that you hadn’t noticed before. And for the first time, you realized you didn’t know her as well as you thought.

Ellie’s eyes, once so familiar, glistened with something unreadable as the tension crackled between you. She turned back, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, the gym, the memorial, and the hushed sobs around you all faded away. It was just the two of you, bound by the secret that threatened to suffocate you both.

“I would do anything to protect you,” she said, her voice low and steady, but with a strange, fervent edge. The words sent a shiver racing down your spine as if she’d just revealed a part of herself you weren’t supposed to see.

Ellie’s words lingered in the air like smoke, heavy and suffocating. You searched her face for any hint of guilt, any sign that she was as trapped in this as you were. But instead, there was a flicker of something else—something more complicated. Protective, maybe. Defiant. But not malicious.

The realization loosened something in your chest, but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t matter if Ellie had meant it, if the poison had only been meant as a scare tactic, a mistake. The fact remained that Heather was dead, and the weight of that truth was too much to carry.

“It’s over, Ellie,” you said, your voice hollow, almost mechanical. The words tasted bitter, final. Her eyes widened, the mask slipping for just a second to show the raw shock underneath.

“What do you mean?” Her tone cracked, breaking through the confidence she always wore like armor.

You shook your head, stepping back as if the distance could somehow cleanse the guilt seeping into your bones. “I can’t do this. I can’t look at you and pretend everything is okay. We’re done, Ellie. I don’t want any contact with you anymore.”

Her face fell, the sharp edges softening with a kind of disbelief. “But I—”

“No,” you cut her off, each word like a knife. “I don’t care what your reasons were. We crossed a line, and I can’t come back from that. I don’t want to.”

Ellie’s jaw clenched, her hands balling into fists at her sides. For a moment, you thought she might argue, try to convince you that she did what she did out of love, out of loyalty. But instead, she nodded slowly, the acceptance stinging more than any fight could have.

“Fine,” she said, voice tight and low. “If that’s what you want.”

You turned and walked away before she could see the tears that threatened to fall again—this time for everything you’d lost, everything you could never take back.

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

Part Two??

Tag List : @mimasroom2 @pixelllliess @elliessgfsstuff @abandonedstars1

A/N : okay guys it's like 1am and i have to wake up at 4 for school. I hope you guys enjoy this! (ps. i only tagged people who said they wanted to get tagged!)

[peterman-spideyparker]

Let There Be Love (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I didn't fall off the face of the earth! I've been writing, but, I've really just have had a lack of motivation to post. Enjoy! :)

Summary: When Matt asks you to find your cassette player, you humor him. As he pops in the tape and you begin to dance with one another, you recall the first time that you met your fiancé.

Warnings: Sweet fluff, established couple, flirty banter, kisses talk about marriage/wedding

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 1,252

“It’s evidence,” you say with a little shrug. “You’re an attorney. You can appreciate that, right?”

“It’s hoarding,” Matt chuckles as he walks over to you with a full glass of wine. 

He clinks his own glass to yours. “I keep what’s important,” you explain before you take a sip. 

He kisses your temple as his hand slides down the curve of your body. “Hoarder,” he murmurs.

“This hoarder will take her cassette tape player back into evidence lock up if she needs to—.” He gives you a little puppy dog pout, his eyes sparkling in the neon coming in through the frosted windows. You run your fingers through his hair as you lean forward with a kiss. “You know you love me.”

“Of course I do,” he says with another little kiss to your lips. “Thank you for your expansive evidence lock up, angel.”

“So,” you start, taking a sip of your wine and sitting on the sofa, tucking your feet underneath you. “Why did you need my cassette player?”

“Because we’ve been trying to figure out our first dance song,” he explains as he fiddles with the machine. “I was looking around in my bedside drawer for my backup glasses until I could get my regular ones fixed, and I found this tape. Do you have any idea what it is?”

“Foggy’s Intro to Punjabi tape?”

Matt tosses his head back in laughter. “C’mon, seriously.”

“I can’t say that I do! I mean, in all honesty, too, I think the last time I used a cassette was 2004. 2007, maybe.”

“This tape belonged to my dad. He made it. It had some of his favorites, some songs that he dedicated to my mom. One he thought they’d play at their wedding. I was listening to it one day—I was missing my dad, and I popped it on. Then, a girl with the prettiest voice I’d ever heard came knocking at my door with a bushel of carrots in her hand, asking if I’d seen a rabbit hopping about the residence hall . . .” You watch Matt smile as he gets the tape to play in the spot that he wants. “This was the song that was playing when we first met. This is the song that I’d like to play when I dance with you for the first time as my wife.”

“Now I feel bad about my joke.”

“C’mere.”

“Matt,” you hum sweetly, setting your wine glass down on the coffee table, moving to wrap your arms around his waist. 

“I can never remember the name of the song, I just know the sound. That’s why I needed the cassette player.”

He leans in, giving you a long kiss as you both slowly start to sway in a little circle. “You know where we found that rabbit?” I grin. 

Confusion briefly furrows his brows. “Where?”

“Our study spot. Well, it wasn’t our study spot at the time, but, that’s where Tony Hawk was. Like a sign. Premonition?”

“Wait, wait. The rabbit’s name was Tony Hawk?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “I never told you that?”

“No!” he laughs, holding you closer. “I think I’d remember that detail.”

“Well, that’s what happens when a veterinarian student from Carlsbad, California is in charge of naming animals.”

“Well, then, thank God for Tony Hawk.” Matt leans in for a kiss as one of your most cherished memory to mind. 

“C’mon, c’mon,” you sigh as you look around desperately. How you're the one that got wrangled into finding a rabbit, you don’t know. It belongs to your roommates best friend’s boyfriend’s roommate, and yet you're the one carrying the bushel of carrots around your dorm trying to find the quickest bunny around. “Tony! C’mon Tony Hawk, I’ve got all these tasty carrots for you, pal!” Your eyes light up when you notice a door on the left of the hall is open. With any luck, he’s either snuck in there, or they at least noticed a rabbit bounce down the hall. Picking up your pace, you make your way down to the door. 

Gently knocking on the wooden frame, you poke your head in. 

“Hi,” you start, finding just one guy—one gorgeous guy—sitting on his bed with an open book and music gently playing in the background, something smooth and jazzy. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, but have you seen a rabbit around?”

He lifts his head up, his beautiful hazel eyes sparkling in the late afternoon light. The kind of bright light that happens just before dusk. His smile is warm and inviting, and your heart races. You feel your cheeks grow hot as you try to keep your cool. Based on his face, this is that hot blind law student you’ve heard all the girls talk about. Unfortunately, you're so focused on keeping your cool, you miss his response.

“Um,” he responds. Oh, hell, his voice is as warm as honey in tea. “Are you alright?”

“S-Sorry,” you stutter. “I’m okay. The bunny is just small, y’know? I’d really just like to get him back to his owner.”

He flashes you a little smirk, his brows bunching together in amusement. “The rabbit isn’t yours?”

“No,” you sigh, letting him in on your annoyance. “Long story. Don’t ask.”

“Okay, I won’t. For now, at least.” You chuckle softly as you dip your head. “I’m Matt, by the way.”

“(Y/N),” you respond. “It was nice to meet you, Matt. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“No, not a bother at all.” The smile pulls back on his face as he pulls his fingers off of the open book in front of him. “I’d offer to help look, but, I have to go to class in a bit.”

“No, you’re totally okay. I appreciate it.”

“Maybe if you’re not still hunting for a rabbit later, we could grab some coffee.”

“I’d like that.”

“Okay,” he says softly.

You smile at one another like idiots for a good few beats before you start to slowly back out of his room. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

You sway with Matt in the living room, looking up at him, your entire world. Your sun, your moon, and your stars. And in a few months, he’ll officially be your husband.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispers.

“Just how that damn rabbit led me to the love of my life,” you say softly. “Do you think we would’ve found one another later in life had it not been for Tony Hawk?”

He just smiles as he leans his face toward yours. “You’re my destiny, angel. One way or another, I was always going to find you. I was always going to fall madly in love with you. I was always going to marry you.”

You feel how tears sting at your lash line. “You’re gonna make me bawl like a baby when we do our vows, huh?” you sniffle.

“Oh,” he says with a sweet pout. “I’m not that cruel. I’m going to write them out for you to read before the ceremony. If you’re gonna cry, what makes you think I’ll be able to get through saying them without crying?” Matt just leans in for a soft kiss, his lips lingering on yours for a long time before he’s satisfied. “I love you so incredibly much,” he whispers. “Thank you for loving me in return.”

You snuggle in on him, resting your ear right over his heart. “Forever and always, Matty.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother @hellskitchens-whore​​ @dpaccione @catnip987​ @blackhawkfanatic

Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters  @loves0phelia

[simphornies]

A/N: The Alastor x Reader x Lucifer fic nobody asked for <3 I hope you all enjoy

Word count: 3.3k (3,360) Warnings: THIS IS LITERALLY SMUT AND SMUT AND SMUT. MINORS DNI.

Our Darling Angel - [ Alastor x F!Reader x Lucifer ]

You spent the day driving your boyfriends insane. There was no absolute reason for it besides one thing: the consequences for it.

Charlie had thrown a party, inviting everyone she could to from the seven rings to the hotel in hopes of recruiting new sinners. With Lucifer’s help, plenty of them came. Moreso for the alcohol but the sight of so many demons in the hotel filled Charlie with enough joy that she settled for it, enjoying the party to the fullest.

You donned a beautiful gown that hugged your curves perfectly and showed enough skin to rile up your partners. Alastor wasn’t allowed to kill anybody during the party but he definitely took note of who tried to push their advances on you. His eyes twitched from rage, his smile wide and almost menacingly tight. He kept watch from a distance, watching over you from the balcony on the second floor.

Lucifer, on the other hand, was the one on the floor with you to whisk you away from audacious demons that would try to dance with you. You noticed how they were both on the edge and a little idea popped into your head. You gave Lucifer a kiss on the cheek after telling him to go relax and have fun, wind down and grab some drinks from the bar.

“Hey, Y/N! Did you want anythin—” He turned to face where you were to see that you were gone. He looked around frantically and glanced up at where Alastor was, hoping you were beside him. All he saw was the irritation evident on his face. His ears pinned flat against his head. Alastor looked at Lucifer and tilted his head over to the direction you were in. When Lucifer got to look, you were on the dance floor, dancing away with some lowly sinner.

Lucifer, seething with jealousy at the sight of someone else’s hands on you, started to walk towards you but stopped in his tracks at the sight of your smile.

You loved to dance, often doing so with Alastor and Lucifer. He decided not to stop you and sighed in defeat. He grabbed two drinks before heading up to where Alastor was.

You felt their gazes on you the entire time, often sneaking a glance at them as you were spun around and passed onto another dance partner. They were jealous. Painfully and obviously jealous.

The music changed and both of your beloveds’ ears perked up. Alastor’s hair fluffed up in rage and Lucifer was doing his absolute best to maintain his composure. It was undoubtedly requested by Asmodeus. The music was sensual, usually intended for couples. You were in the middle of it all, thriving off of the spotlight.

They watched you intently, desperately wanting to whisk you away and take the place of whoever was your partner. Their claws were practically digging into whatever surface they were on, leaving behind scratch marks.

Everyone was in sync, so they somewhat understood that this is how the dance is supposed to go. But the way your hips were touched, the way you swayed them, the way you were spun and the way you bent backward onto the hand on your back, they couldn’t take it any longer.

Lucifer was the first to go, excusing himself to go to your shared bedroom. Alastor followed not too long after.

.

You had the time of your life, drinking and dancing the night away. You bid everyone farewell, giving the guests the little pamphlets Charlie made to advertise the hotel. Your feet were sore from moving in the heels and after wishing everyone a good night, you head up into your room.

“I’m here!” You announced as you walked into the room. Lucifer was on the bed, impatiently waiting for you. He practically ran over to you and hugged you like you almost died. “Luci—”

“I just…missed you.” He says as he looks up at you with the most heartwarming puppy dog eyes.

You smile sweetly, running your fingers through his golden locks. “I live with you.” You giggled.

“I can miss you even if you’re next to me all the time!” He huffed.

You laughed and pushed him away gently. “I have to go shower. Keep my side warm for me!” You ran to the bathroom to wash off the sweat and soothe your muscles. As soon as you got out and dried yourself off, you put on a silk robe that Alastor gifted you. You left the bathroom stretching your sore arms out. Lucifer glanced at you from the bed with a look in his eyes, you couldn’t quite catch it since he turned around too fast. “Where’s Ala—”

You felt hands grab you from behind, causing you to instinctively tense up. “Did you enjoy yourself, my dear?” Alastor asked, rubbing your shoulders gently.

“Alastor!” You grinned, “Yes I did. Did you see me killing it on the dance floor? If it was a competition, I think I would’ve won if I do say so myself.” You said, beaming with pride completely unaware of the lust filled looks you received from both of them as Alastor walked you to the bed.

“Oh we sure did see you, darling!” Alastor responds, jealousy evident in his voice. He leaned closer to your ear, whispering in his low and radio laced voice, “We sure watched you.”

His voice sent shivers down your spine. The moment you were on the bed, Lucifer gently turned your head with a soft hand. “You looked like you had fun, babe. Putting on a beautiful show like that.” He was dangerously close to your face, causing you to let out a gasp.

“I-I’m glad you enjoyed it—”

Before you could continue, Alastor grabs your face with his hand, turning it so you face him, “Enjoyed? What is there to enjoy after seeing filthy sinners touch you like that? So…provocatively.”

Your face warmed up and you were unsure if it was from the heat that radiated from them being so close or if it was from the instant arousal at the subtle growl in their voices.

“Don’t tell me you two are jealous?” You teased, pushing your luck. “If you two wanted to dance with me, you should’ve said so!”

In an instant, you were on your back with your head in Alastor’s lap as he held your wrists together with his shadows. Your hips held in place by Lucifer. It didn’t take long for you to see and feel the tightness in their pants.

“Darling. You are ours and ours alone, or have you forgotten?” Alastor questioned, his eyes darkened and his smile was menacing.

“I think she needs a reminder that she doesn’t need any other hands on her, Al.” Lucifer smirks at you. 

You gulped and started to nervously laugh, “I-I know! I'll never forget that!”

“The way you allowed such filth to touch you in such a way, dance or not, tells us you’ve forgotten. I believe you need a reminder of who you truly belong to.”

You squeezed your thighs tightly together only for them to be pried open by Lucifer with ease. Lucifer unties your robe, exposing your whole self to them both. He chuckled as he saw how you dripped with delight.

“Did we excite you, sweetheart?” Lucifer asked, teasing your entrance with soft grazes. You gasped at the feeling of his cold fingers running up and down, passing by your clit without touching it.

“And no underwear, dear? My, you must have been expecting this!” Alastor exclaimed. “You’re not allowed to cum unless we say so, understood?”

You nodded and thrusted your hips to beg for more of Lucifer’s attention. “Ah ah, baby~” He tuts, “You don’t get to have a say on how tonight goes. Not after that display you put on.” He slides a finger inside of you slow enough for you to whine about it. He held your hips down, not allowing you to buck your hips for more.

“You can take this, can’t you darling?” Alastor teased, his hand caressing your cheek softly, “After all, this is your own doing.”

Lucifer pumped his finger in and out of you, curling it as soon as he’s fully inside to rub the spot he knew you loved the most. You let out a sinful moan as he does, wriggling underneath them both. Alastor’s hand travels from your cheek to your breasts, massaging them. His grins widen at the sounds you made underneath him.

Lucifer pulled his finger out of you, admiring the arousal that coated it. You let out a desperate whine at him, “Pl-please.” You whimpered, looking at him with lust filled eyes. “More please, Luci.”

Without a second’s notice he moved his head down to your entrance.He held your thighs open and ravaged your insides with his tongue. You shake underneath them, eyes looking up at Alastor. His eyes and ears were blessed with your audible pleasure. Lucifer didn’t stop at just using his tongue. His finger played with your clit, giving it undivided attention as he licked you up. The knot in your stomach tightened itself. You squirm, “Ah~ L-Luci!” You felt your climax inching closer and closer as well as Lucifer did. He felt your walls tighten around his busy tongue but that only sped him up.

He undressed himself, his cock springing out from his tight pants oozing with pre-cum.

“What are you begging for, Y/N?” Lucifer teased as Alastor traced your chin with his finger. “Speak up, my love.”

“Now now, you’re far too kind to her after that tantalizing show she put on for us.” Alastor hums, his hands wrapping your throat loosely, “Beg.”

“Please please fuck me Lucifer! Please!” You whined, prying your eyes from Alastor’s deep gaze. He hums at your pleading, eyeing you with a smirk on his face. He lined himself up but remained still at your entrance.

He leaned closer to the side of your head, whispering into your ear. “And why should I?” His voice was deeper than usual, a slight growl coated his words and his grip on your hips tightened.

“You seemed awfully comfortable with other hands on you, my dear!” Alastor’s grip on your throat tightened ever so slightly, “My…they might believe that anyone can touch what’s ours.”

“No! No. Never again. I won’t let it happen ag—” You gasped as Lucifer shoved himself into you. You threw your head back on Alastor’s lap and felt the tent in his lap. He let out a low growl when he felt your cheek graze it.

Lucifer thrusted into you no mercy, not giving you an opportunity to think. Alastor moved you off of him to undress. Your mind melted every time Lucifer moved in and out of you, his cock never missing your sweet spot. “Your body was made perfectly for this, baby.” His voice was shaky, losing himself in his own pleasure.

For a moment, you felt him pull out. Before you could whine from the emptiness you were flipped onto your knees, now on all fours. He slammed himself back inside of you, his cock hitting your cervix. Your walls tightened around him, screaming his name over and over

Alastor was on his knees in front of you, his own cock twitching for attention. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking it ever so slightly to make you look up at him. “Eyes on me, darling.” His eyes were dark, filled with lust as he gazed into yours. “I believe you know what to do.”

You nod and take him into your mouth practically drooling for it. Every thrust Lucifer did pushed you to take more of him in, hitting the back of your throat. Alastor grinned and stroked your hair, “Good girl.” Your focus was nonexistent but you tightened at his praise.

“Y-You’re going to milk me, baby. Fuck you’re so tight.” Lucifer growls into your ear, voice low and deep. Your muffled begging made him smirk, “You’re going to take it all in right? Every. Last. Drop?” He thrusted at every word. He slammed himself into you, burying himself to the hilt as you felt him shoot strings of warmth inside. You couldn’t hold yourself in any longer and came around him, moaning as Alastor’s cock was deep in your throat as your body shook in pleasure. The vibrations of your moan made him let out a low growl of pleasure. They both tutted in disapproval upon realizing what you had done.

“Oh my darling little doe…” Alastor caressed your cheek, his claw grazing it slightly. “You weren’t allowed to do that.” Without a warning he thrusted into you, fucking your mouth without mercy. His movements pushed you back and forth on Lucifer’s cock, still hard and raring to go like when he first started.

You were lost in the pleasure, no longer aware of anything they’re saying. Your eyes rolled back, surrendering your body to both demons with no regard for your physical state tomorrow. You felt Alastor twitch on your tongue and you immediately took it upon yourself to regain whatever strength you had to suck him as he went. He made sure your eyes stayed on him the whole time, admiring your submissiveness and the way you took him in. “So beautiful taking me in like that.” He wiped the tears that streamed down your cheek, “So gorgeous. I bet you’re hungry, starving even. I bet you’d love to take it all in your throat, wouldn’t you?” His horns got bigger as he got closer to his climax, he was fucking your mouth faster now. “Be a dear and swallow it all. It’d be a shame if you missed a drop.” His ears twitched with delight as he finally thrusted his entire length as deep as it can go. You felt him shoot into you and you held onto his legs, drinking it all up like you would die if you didn’t.

“What a good girl for us. Taking us all in.” Lucifer purred. They both slowly pulled out of you, Lucifer’s cum flowing out of your cunt. “What a sight.” He smirked. You pant in a desperate attempt to catch your breath. Your legs felt like jelly, your hips definitely bruised from the way Lucifer grabbed onto them. You couldn’t focus your vision but you could see them shift around on the bed, Alastor now behind you with Lucifer in front. His fingers run through your hair as he hums softly to you.

“Angel,” He says softly. You let out a weak sound to respond to him, looking up into his red eyes. His soft expression faded into a lust filled one. “You aren’t done quite yet.” He smirks.

Before your brain could process it, you feel yourself getting flipped on your back with Alastor now gripping your hips. His sudden thrust into you almost made you cum right there. You screamed out his name in Alastor, your attempts to muffle yourself into the sheets were futile. Lucifer placed your head on his thigh, “Let us hear your beautiful voice.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, “You’re being too nice, Lucifer.” He speaks, thrusting into you at a fast and steady pace, “If this little doll can’t hold herself back from cumming…” His grin grew wider, “Then she’s going to have to cum over and over until we’re done.”

You were a moaning, drooling mess. You were drunk off of the pleasure and praise you got from them. The more you moaned, the more you got praised and the wilder Alastor moved in and out of you. It wasn’t long until that familiar warmth in your stomach returned quicker than before.

“A-Alastor.” You gasped, “I c-can’t. Can I—Fuck—Can I please cum?” You begged, repeating yourself over and over. Lucifer caresses your cheek with such softness that it countered the roughness Alastor gave you.

“Sweet girl askin’ so nicely.” Lucifer purrs as he hovers over you with delight, “Look him in the eyes and ask properly, princess.” He moves your head, making you stare directly into Alastor’s hungry stare.

“Please, Alastor. Please. Please.” You pleaded, “Please let me cum, Alastor, please.” Tears were threatening to spill from your eyes once more from the unrelenting, nonstop pleasure Alastor blessed upon you.

He grinned widely, “Such a good girl.” He thrusts with reckless abandon. You shake underneath him, your release on the brink of exploding. “Wait.”

Waiting was torture. He didn’t allow you a moment to breathe or catch your thoughts. Your walls tightened around him, warning him of what’s to come which made him slow down to delay your release. You continued to beg between breaths while Lucifer smiled ever so sweetly at the sight of you getting fucked silly. In an attempt to distract yourself, you took him into your mouth making him gasp in surprise.

“Oh! Princess hasn’t had enough?” He teased, repositioning himself for you to suck him better. “Would you like another one, angel? Another load down that lovely throat of yours.”

You hummed in agreement, licking his shaft with the same hunger you gave Alastor earlier. He showered you with praise, gently thrusting himself in your mouth. He was the gentle half that balanced Alastor’s roughness. Though they both showered you with praise, his was sweeter.

Alastor tuts once he loses your attention. “Don’t hog her mind with your words, Lucifer.”

“Oh, but look how good she’s being.” He hums, “You’re the one hogging her mind. Look at the mess she’s become.”

He huffed and pounded into you wildly, making you scream against Lucifer’s cock. Your legs shook at the pleasure, your begging returned once more. “Be a good girl for me, baby.” Alastor purrs, leaning down to your ear. “Cum.” He whispers. Without hesitation, you came wildly around Alastor.

“Ah~” Lucifer moaned, “Your voice—Scream louder for us angel, make Hell remember our names once more.” His thrusts got wilder as he got closer to your own release. You worked hard to please him, using whatever strength you could muster to pump the base of his dick as you bobbed your head up and down to meet his thrusting.

“Thank you. Thank you!” You screamed, “Alastor! Lucifer! Thank you so much!”

Without warning, the two of them released deep into you, Alastor in your cunt and Lucifer in your throat. They pulled out of you once their spurts had stopped, panting from their release. No words needed to be shared for them to immediately care for you. Lucifer wiped you clean with a warm wet towel and Alastor did the same for your face. He cleaned up your face, working from your eyes to your mouth. As soon as the three of you weren’t as sticky as before, Lucifer crawled under the covers on your left, Alastor on your right after he gave you some water to soothe your throat from all the hard work.

You were gently squished in between them, your head on Alastor’s chest and Lucifer’s head on yours. You nuzzled into Alastor while Lucifer did the same to your soft tits. “You did so good, angel.” He spoke softly.

“Our good little girl.” Alastor hums, stroking your hair. You felt the sleep creep up on you, as it did to them. “Now, you’ll stay by our side during events, right?” He says as he plants a kiss on the top of your head.

“Mhhm.” You said softly, “Thank you.”

The three of you drifted off into sleep, cuddled up on each other. You had a feeling you’d mess with them a lot more if it led to nights like this.

.

“Charlie. We need to soundproof that fucking room.” Vaggie groaned, finally taking her hands off her ears. “I’m going to throw up.” 

“I don’t know, it was pretty hot hearing fancy talk creepy voice and hell’s big dick going at it.” Angel winked, “Makes me feel all hot~” He says, leaning into a flustered Husk.

“Meet me in my room.” Husk grumbles, flying away with an excited Angel Dust trailing not too far behind him.

“I’m…Going out.” Charlie left, traumatized with Vaggie following after her.

[bsdawgz]

「 ✦ Please? ✦ 」 au! Bungo Stray Dogs: Atsushi Nakajima

a/n: been thinking about this for a while now, hope u enjoy!<3 mwah :*

genre: au! no abilities, college or grad school. da nasty w/ subby, camboy! atsushi 😏

content warning: f!reader. MDNI! male masturbation. atsushi typical low self-esteem ruminations + self-degradation (both in a kinky and non-kinky way). edging. online relationships (they’re twitter moots teehee).

summary: atsushi's always a good boy on camera, esp when he’s thinking about this one girl from his class ♡

– that girl is you… but of course, you don’t know that yet.

That light fixture. Those cedarwood floors. The white, speckled wall behind him. If you didn't know any better, you'd say this was one of your dorm rooms – but it couldn't be, right?

You're on your bed with your headphones on, blinds shuttered close, door locked. Your plush blanket is pulled up to your thighs. The room is dark, save for your phone screen, casting a glow on your face.

This is a private matter, after all.

"Is this thing on?"

In front of the camera is him, a mutual you've made from the n.sfw side of twitter, though this is the first time you're seeing his face of all things. He's unbelievably cute, in the most endearing sense of the word, with boyish features and a charming smile that makes you blush. "Hey guys," he says, and his voice sounds somewhat familiar, though you can't quite place your finger on where you might have heard it before. "I know it's been a while."

The numbers in his live go up by the second, chat animated now that he's active. His eyebrows scrunch together as he leans forward to read the comments. Most of them are already demanding he perform something lewd, but some of them surprisingly sweet, asking him how his day's been or complimenting him. He pays neither any mind – rather, his focus goes straight to you.

You almost jump as you hear him call out your username, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Oh, it's you!" he says with a cheeky grin. "Everyone say hi and follow them too~"

Naturally, you've seen his nudes before – he's amassed quite a following on Twitter posting his body. In fact, you were shocked when he had decided to follow back someone like you, who only ever reposted content or mused online about what kind of things you'd like to have done to you.

So, having a big creator like him even know you exist – let alone mention you on his live – has your face flushed with heat.

Thank god he can't see you through the screen.

"ofc:)" you type, watching as his followers greet you in the chat.

Then, you hear him sigh and relax into his chair. He pushes back the sweep of silver bangs, fingers playing thoughtfully with the strings of his sweatshirt as he browses through the comments on his computer screen. Your eyes widen when he murmurs in a voice so innocent, "So... you wanna see me stroke it now?"

He sounds so damn innocent – he's definitely got that 'boy-next-door' act down, and you can see why his streams get so much attention. You've never watched a stream before, so he has you pulling your blanket over your head, totally embarrassed as his voice drops to a whisper. "Mm, well, I wanna..." he muses, and through your headphones, it feels almost like his breath is in your ear. You watch as he trails his hand lower, down to the waistband of his gray sweatpants. "Been thinking about it all day, actually."

The numbers in his livestream go up.

You can feel desire pooling between your thighs as he teases himself, as he traces the outline that's becoming more and more apparent through his sweats. He's gazing down at himself sensually, watching himself grow with these half-lidded eyes, lips parted slightly and curved in a lazy smile. There's something angelic about his face, however sinful it might be to think so. "Can I tell you guys a secret?" he asks sheepishly, and you can almost make out a faint blush on his cheeks as he glances away from the camera, fingers dancing around the lean muscle of his abdomen. "There's this girl in my lecture hall that I can't stop thinking about.

I really want her... Pretty pathetic of me, huh?"

The chat goes wild with comments. Some users sexually degrade him, calling him filthy names; others say they'd gladly swap places with his classmate. He glances at the screen briefly, swiping his tongue across his lips as he browses through before choosing a few users to respond to. "I know, I'm a bit of a loser for that," he says with a soft laugh. Then, in a more serious tone, he adds, "But really, I could never... just thinking about her, honestly... she's just so...

Ah, sh-shiit..."

Freeing himself from his boxers, you're met with the sight of it in all of its glory, tip leaking with precum and pulsing with need. His breath hitches in his throat when he first wraps his fingers around it. You hear him hiss from his own touch; he looks away shyly as he strokes it once, as he gathers the moisture on his hand and pumps it up and down. Then, clamping his other hand over his mouth, these soft, sweet moans fall delicately from his lips as he thrusts his hips up to meet his fist – as he strokes himself faster and faster.

Just as soon as you think he's about to cum...

"Nngh, f-fuck – ..." he seethes, letting go of himself completely.

Holding back what sounds like something between a moan and a sob, he buries his face into his elbow, stammering out curses in between ragged pants; you catch a glimpse of desperate eyes before he throws his head back, palming the oversensitive tip until his body's shaking, pleasuring himself in a way that makes his hips lurch forward, in a way that brings him so close to the edge that he's just about ready to fall apart. "So good... wanna... c-cum..."

– and the chat floods with messages instantly.

x69princess96x: 'don't' _daddywuvsu_: 'you haven't earned it' milf9_32193: 'no way!!! 🙄' user704829103: 'beg for it'

"Please–" He's so tense that you can almost feel it through the screen. "Please... please, please..."

Then, his eyes flash with something you've never seen before in someone before – pure, animalistic want as his eyebrows knit tightly, as his lips part in need, as he pleads for release –

and he's looking straight at the camera, so sickening sexy. "Please, need it…"

You find yourself aching in your core, clinging to your screen with widened eyes when suddenly, you hear your username unraveling from his lips. "How about you... You'd... you'd let me cum, right?"

© BSDAWGZ Don’t steal or plaigarize cos that’s mean… and if you enjoyed the fic, please reblog! ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ Beautiful dividers by @ v6que!

[zepskies]

Dream With Me - Part 1

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized!Reader (Latina)

Summary: When your asshole ex-boyfriend calls for help on a case, you have a tough decision to make. But Dean isn’t going to let you do anything alone. AKA: The last hunt you, Sam, and Dean will ever go on together.

AN: Here we go, a three-part story for the Espresso-verse! This is set in the dreaded 15x20 (or the time gap within In Bad Weather.) There are implied references back to Devour Me and Show Me.

Word Count: 4.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, some spiciness, past body insecurity, references to body shaming, references to smut, PTSD, peril, blood and violence.

Start from the beginning of the series: ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 1: “On the Drop of a Dime”

Silence reigns as you and Dean get ready for bed. Tonight, it’s your boyfriend who’s watching you closely. 

Something’s off, he thinks, even as he checks you out in the little sleep shorts you just put on. It’s not the spandex ones he likes, but he still gets to see your familiar curves.

It's been a minute since he's gotten reacquainted. He and Sam just got back from a long hunt yesterday. You stayed home this time, for reasons Dean still hasn't totally figured out.

But his eyes trace over you, from thick thighs and tempting ass, to all of what you’re hiding under an old Def Leppard shirt. The rest, he can trace from memory alone.

You notice him watching you from his side of the bed. Your lips tug upwards.

“What?” you ask. Dean nods over, beginning to smile as well.

“Come ‘ere already.”

Huffing a little laugh, you tie your hair up in a big scrunchie and slide your way into bed, and into the inviting space between his arm and chest. He wraps that arm around your waist, pulling you comfortably close. You expel a deep breath and rest against him.

And you smile. “He’s snoring again.”

Miracle, a shaggy mutt Dean rescued, is curled up in his doggy bed at the foot of the humans’ bed where he likes to sleep. And rumble through his nose. He always goes to lay down when he sees Dean venture to the sink to brush his teeth. It’s like he knows his parents are about to go to sleep, so it’s his way of joining you.

“Dogs snore. Who knew?” Dean remarks.

“Who knew you’d be the one to get us a dog,” you say.

“Yeah,” he agrees in amusement. “Taking home strays is more your thing.”

You smirk at him. “Worked with you, didn’t it?”

Dean scoffs. “Hey, you moved in with me. Which makes you the stray.”

“Hey!” You shove at his shoulder. He traps your hand against his chest and tugs you in to kiss into your neck.

“Aw, but a sexy one,” he says, humming in pleasure against your skin, where he inhales that alluring mix of floral soap and coconutty shampoo. “Mmm. Less Annie, more Pretty Woman. Like Julia Roberts, if she had a Latina ass.”

You have to laugh, despite the arousing graze of his teeth against your pulse point. You hold him close by his shirt. He takes the scrunchie out of your hair with a practiced hand, letting the wild strands curl around his fingers. You tsk at him. He can never just let your hair be.

“Are you really comparing me to a prostitute right now?” you retort. You feel the shape of his grin against your skin.

“What can I say, baby? You’ve got moves,” Dean teases, low and gravel in your ear. A shiver runs down your spine, but you’re both turned on and incredulous all at once.

Again, you hit his shoulder with a burst of laughter. It briefly lightens you from the funk you’ve been in.

It’s been a couple of months since Sam, Dean, and Jack ended Chuck’s reign of terror. Jack snapped the world back into existence and brought you back, along with everyone else…and the monsters.

It means your work isn’t over, even though that work is starting to wear on you. You haven’t let this on to Sam or Dean, however. It’s just been this thing, weighing on you for two months.

Unlike them, you don’t have as much experience with apocalyptic-level events, let alone dying. (And coming back, for that matter.)

Dean’s lips begin to break you from those thoughts, however, when he blazes a warm trail of sensuous, grazing kisses up your neck. Then along the curve of your jaw, as he holds your other cheek. Finally, he claims your lips.

You breathe into it, and into him as he almost succeeds in distracting your weighted mind. You give him a couple of sweet kisses in return before you slowly break from him.

“You have another long drive tomorrow,” you remind him, rubbing a hand across his chest. “Maybe you should sleep.”

Dean frowns as he looks on you. He tries to read whatever you’re hiding back there, behind your eyes.

“You sure you don’t wanna come?” he asks, and not for the first time. “Could use your help on the case.”

Sam already found another one: a string of suspicious murders in Boston—potentially a cursed Red Sox collectible cycling its way through unsuspecting baseball fans. In the morning, he and Dean are going out to investigate. You’ve elected to opt out. 

“It’s okay. I want to give Jody a visit,” you reply. You reach for the bedcovers to cover yourself up to your chest. Dean strokes your hip underneath.

“We could always swing by Sioux Falls after the hunt,” he says.

“It’s okay, baby. You and Sam go ahead,” you say. You twist away from him to turn off the light, but Dean stops you.

“All right,” he says with a sigh. “What’s going on?”

You raise a brow at him. “What?”

“You what,” Dean retorts. “This is the second time in a row that you’re blowing off a hunt.”

He’s right, but you don’t have a good answer for him. Your lips purse.

“I don’t know, I mean…are you going through some kind of slump?” he asks. “‘Cause you know I’ve been there.”

It’s your turn to sigh. You sit up in bed, and you debate the words you want to use to broach this with him. It’s been percolating in your mind for a while now, but it seems like this is the time to finally let it out.

“Okay, here it goes,” you mutter, trying to ignore your trepidation. “Do you ever think about…retiring?”

Dean’s attention piques, along with his frown.

“Retiring?” he repeats.

You reach out to grab his wrist, and you draw your thumb back and forth across his skin. 

“You ever think of…a house,” you pose. “Maybe a cozy cabin, or a little cottage-style thing somewhere, with a backyard for Miracle. And like, at least three bedrooms.” 

Dean smiles a little. He allows himself to contemplate the picture you’re painting.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why three bedrooms?” he asks.

Hope begins to flutter in your chest.

“Well, there’s our room of course,” you say, with a flirtatious gleam to your smile. “That’s where the magic happens.”

He smirks. “I’m in agreement so far.”

“Then there’s a guest room, for whenever Sam and Eileen come to visit,” you continue. “And then…there’s a third room for whatever we need.”

Your tone is leading him somewhere, along with your hand trailing up and down his arm.

“Like, you know, a gym. Or an office. Or a kid’s bedroom…or maybe two,” you say.

Dean’s expression slackens as surprise overtakes him. He probably should’ve known though.

“Two,” he intones, chuckling nervously. But, his face softens as he watches you with new understanding. “You’ve really been thinkin’ about that, huh?”

“Maybe,” you confess. You gain some courage and take in a deep breath. “Do you think about it? Dean, do you ever want to have a simpler life?”

He hums deep in contemplation. It’s a heavy sound, and it doesn’t spark your confidence.

“You know I’ve tried that before,” he says at last. “That life…sweetheart, it’s not my life. It never has been.”

“It could be,” you insist. “Chuck is done—”

“But the monsters ain’t,” Dean retorts. 

“There are other hunters,” you point out. “Haven’t you given enough? Haven’t we given enough?”

You squeeze his hand to punctuate your point. Dean glances down, feeling the near desperation in your grip. Eventually, he’s able to meet your eyes again.

“Look…I’m the Job, you know? What the hell would I even do if not this?” he says.

You raise up his hand and lay a kiss to his knuckles. You know he thinks being a hunter is all he’s good for—all he’s equipped to do. You also know that he’s so much more than the Job. 

“Dean, you’re one of the smartest, most resourceful people I know. You can…restore cars, build cars,” you suggest. Your excitement grows as you brainstorm for him. You tap on his thigh.

“Oh! You could open up a bar. Call it the Roadhouse, after the one your friends had. Or hey, we could open up a bakery. We’ll sell pies and flan and whatever the hell else you want me to make.”

You say that last bit with a giggle. It earns Dean’s smile, but you know, looking into his eyes, that he’s not convinced. You grab his hand again with both of yours.

“Come on, Dean. Dream with me for a second,” you implore. “I know we could do this. We could…we could have a different life. A peaceful life. We could have a family.”

Dean sighs, glancing down at his hands. They’re calloused and scarred, and he has the memories to match.

“I’m sorry,” he says at last. “I just uh…I think it’s too late for me to dream like that.”

Tears well up in your eyes as your heart begins to break. Dean sees the fractures, and immediately feels guilty for it.

“Sweetheart,” he tries, reaching out for you, but you shake your head and turn away from him. He feels the loss of your hand.

“Good night,” you say, more sharply than you mean to. I knew he wouldn’t go for it, and I opened my mouth anyway.

He touches your shoulder. “Hey, come on—”

“Good night, Dean,” you repeat. I knew he wouldn’t…

You shouldn’t have said anything. You turn off the lamp on your nightstand, casting the room into darkness.

Dean hesitates. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, even though he knows he has. He just doesn’t know how to comfort you this time. His hand falls away from you as he turns onto his back, his lips pressing together.

“Thought we weren’t supposed to go to bed angry,” he dryly remarks.

“I’m not angry,” you mutter.

She said, friggin’ angrily, Dean finishes in his mind.

He sighs and tries to go to sleep. 

In the morning, you’re quieter than usual. You keep saying you’re not mad. You keep telling him to forget about it. But after four years together, Dean knows when you’re pulling away from him. 

You don’t even make espresso from your little cafetera press, like you usually do. You’re rummaging through the pantry, seemingly trying to decide what you’re going to have for breakfast.

“Coffee?” Dean asks.

You point to the percolating machine that spits out normal black coffee—a silent gesture that tells him he should make it himself.

Which he does, while frowning in annoyance at your attitude. He thinks it might be good that he and Sam are leaving on this hunt soon. It’ll give you a chance to cool off, and Dean a chance to figure out how to make this right with you. The problem is, he knows he won’t be able to do that without giving you what you want.

Retired? He scoffs in his mind. Bobby and Rufus never fucking retired from the life. Hell, Dean never even thought he’d live this long.

And what happened to Bobby, Rufus, Ellen, Jo, Cas, and too many others…

Dean doesn’t let himself dwell on that interjecting thought for too long, even though it adds a familiar weight to his shoulders. He makes himself some buttered toast. He then sits across from Sam, who’s eating cereal while scrolling through the news on his laptop.

You sit next to Sam after grabbing a steaming cup of an Americano and a protein bar. Dean can tell by your face that you’re not enjoying either one. He debates if he should ask if you still plan to drive out to go see Jody today.

Sam glances over at his brother. He’s sensing the unspoken tension between you and Dean, but the latter can only give a small shake of his head.

You don’t want to know, Dean’s face says.

Your cell phone rings, breaking the silence. It’s an unknown number. You frown in confusion, but you still pick it up.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Hey. It’s me.”

Your frown deepens. You think you know the voice on the line, but you figure you should make sure, before your shitty morning gets even better.

“Who’s this?” you ask.

“It’s Carter,” he replies.

In other words, your insufferable ex-boyfriend. The last time you saw him was at a wake for a fellow hunter, Alicia Jackson. By the end of it, Dean nearly broke the man’s hand by the table of mini quiche. 

“You have some goddamn audacity,” you say in a biting tone. It has both Sam and Dean perking up in curiosity. 

“You’re the one who didn’t change your number,” Carter points out. You sigh and cover your eyes with your hand. 

“Why the hell are you calling me?” you ask. There’s a pause on the other line, but you lose patience.

“Carter, don’t waste my time. What the hell do you want?”

At hearing that name, Dean’s face falls with a dark frown. You raise a placating hand to him while you listen. 

“I need your help,” Carter says. “I’m on this case. A town in Nebraska on the edge of the woods. Three infants taken from their cribs. Townsfolk have been hearing noises from the woods. Sound familiar?”

Unfortunately, it does. You remember a case you worked a few months before you met Carter, in a small rural town in Louisiana. It had affected you so deeply, you remember telling him about it, when you two were still together.

“A cadejo isn’t going to go that far north,” you say.

Originally from South America, cajedos are dog-like creatures, except for their hooves. They’re creatures of habit, and they like the warmth. They also prefer the taste of children. The younger the better.

“It will if it’s hungry,” Carter points out. “You’re the only one I know who’s hunted one of these things.”

“…Okay. Where are you?” you sigh in defeat. 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Dean whisper-yells. Your lips purse, and again you raise a hand, wordlessly telling him to wait. 

“Arcadia,” Carter replies.

You shake your head at the prospect of actually going along with this. 

“You know I’m probably not going to meet you alone, right?” you say.

“Yeah, I heard Hasselhoff back there,” Carter remarks. “I’m sure he and the other Twin Terror will be right behind you.”

“If you’re gonna be an asshole, you can get fucked by the cadejo for all I care. Call another hunter.” You’re ready to hang up when Carter backtracks.

“Okay, okay! I can be civil,” he says. “Come on. I need your help.”

You deliberate internally with indecision as you set down your phone for a minute. You glance up at Dean, whose facial expression makes it pretty damn clear what his stance is. Sam seems to be waiting on whatever you decide, but is still wary.

You reluctantly hold the phone back to your ear.

“All right. I’ll be on the way in a bit,” you reply.

“Well, all right then. See you soon,” Carter says, in a quasi-flirtatious tone that makes you grimace in disgust.

You hang up the phone and set it down on the table in exasperation. When you raise your gaze, you find exactly what you expect to see.

Dean’s jaw is clenched.

“Wanna tell me what the hell that was?” he asks. You frown at him in annoyance.

“You want to calm down?” you say.

“What, so I’m supposed to be okay with you agreeing to go see that son of a bitch?” Dean says. “After what happened last time?”

“Dean…” You rub at your forehead, frowning at the beginning of an ache behind your eyes. 

Sam knows instinctively that this is a conversation better had between just you and Dean, but he feels weird about getting up from the dining table. In his indecision, he stays. 

“This isn’t about me,” you say at last. “And it’s not about him. This is about saving people who need help.”

It’s a point Dean can’t readily refute. So you give him a sly smile. 

“Besides,” you say. “Are you really going to let me go alone?”

That’s how Dean ends up driving you and Sam to Nebraska on a Tuesday morning, after calling another hunter to take on that case Sam had found.

Dean is taciturn and downright grumpy all the way there. Even though you know why, it still irks you. Despite your argument last night, he’s become an amazingly supportive boyfriend in so many ways. So why is he being such a man child about this?

When you all get to the motel, you and Dean book a room while Sam grabs his own. You don’t blame him for wanting some distance from the tension the elder Winchester is exuding. You only wish you could get a room by yourself.

You text Carter to let him know that you’ve arrived at the same motel he’s staying at: 

Where do you want to meet up?

Dean notices you texting. 

“Right, let’s get this over with. Where’re we meeting your boyfriend,” he snarks.

But you’re not laughing. You let out an angry huff, your hands moving to your hips. 

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stopped being such an ass about this. I have enough on my mind without dealing with your pouting,” you say. 

Dean looks down at you, crossing his arms. “I’m not pouting. I’m here trying to watch your back while you go and let that bastard play you like a damn fiddle.”

You stare at him in disbelief. 

“Do you really, actually think I want to see Carter?” you ask. “Do you think I’m that stupid, that I don’t know what he’s trying to do?”

You already know Carter is using this to try and get back into your life, or at least, under your skin. You don’t intend to let him accomplish either one.

Meanwhile, Dean’s frown deepens.

“Okay. If you’re seeing 20/20, then why’re we here? Why not call another hunter and let them fill in?” he asks.

“Is that what you would do?” you counter, pressing a finger into his chest. “If it was your ex who needed help, you would be doing the same damn thing that I’m doing, and don’t pretend it’d be any different. So stop trying to make me feel guilty for trying to do this right.”

You grab the empty ice bucket from the counter. Right now, you need any excuse to get some air, and get out of this oppressive room. 

Dean lets you go, even though he’s silently fuming. The door slams shut behind you. 

He sighs. He doesn’t feel like being in this room either, so he steps out and knocks on Sam’s door. 

Sam opens it, and has to move to the side when Dean slips inside without asking. 

“Sure, come right in,” Sam says wryly. He watches Dean sit down on the bed and drop his head into his hands, rubbing his face. 

“Dude, you need to chill out,” Sam says. Dean’s head raises, and he gives his brother a sarcastic look.

“Oh, really? Is that what the fuck I need to do?” he says. He draws a frustrated hand over his mouth. “This guy’s a problem Sam. This whole thing…it doesn’t feel right.”

Sam doesn’t understand just how bad the repercussions were, after what happened at Alicia’s funeral. You having to deal with Carter that night had set you back, mentally, in more ways than one. It had you thinking things about yourself, and your own body, that made Dean want to track that bastard down and bash his skull in.

But instead, Dean had spent that entire night trying to help you feel comfortable in your own skin again, and comfortable with him. He’d continued trying to erase those old insecurities from your mind for the rest of the damn week—mainly by fucking it out of you.

In your bed, in the shower, in the backseat of his Baby, on that comfy couch in the library that's already been christened three times before (luckily, no one caught you guys that time), and even in the dirty bathroom of a roadside bar after a hunt.

...Yeah, you’d taken some convincing on that last one.

Worth it, Dean thinks, smirking internally.

Besides all of that though, there’s something else gnawing at his insides. Something he hasn’t told Sam, or even you for that matter.

Since the world nearly ended with Chuck and his snapping fingers, Dean has lived with…a kind of edge. An edge that makes him wary whenever your safety is concerned, beyond the usual dangers that come with a hunt. Beyond the things Dean feels equipped to handle with certainty. 

“Be that as it may, she can take care of herself, Dean. You know that,” Sam says, breaking Dean from his thoughts. “All we can do is watch her back on this. And we will.”

After a beat to consider that, Dean nods, however reluctantly. Despite your recent struggles, he also knows how strong you are, and not just in your stubbornness that’s more than a match for his own.

Even though he’d rather you not have to go through this bullshit at all with Carter, Dean knows you. He knows you’ll do what you think is right, with or without his say so.

His shoulders deflate with his breath of exasperation. He gets up, claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Dean leaves his brother’s room to return to his own.

He frowns when he finds it empty. 

He backs out of the room and looks down the sidewalk. There’s no one in sight. 

He follows down the path you must’ve gone to find the ice machine. He turns a corner, and he finds a half-full bucket of ice…on the ground, laying on its side. Dean rushes back to the parking lot.

He doesn’t see you anywhere. The Impala is still parked where he left her, so you haven’t taken off by yourself. At least, not of your own volition.

He goes back to Sam’s motel room and pounds a fist three times on his door. Sam opens it with an annoyed frown and a ready protest, until Dean speaks over him. 

“Sam, I can’t find her,” he says. “She’s gone.”

Slowly, you wake in what looks like a dusty old barn.

You’re sitting in a wooden chair that hurts your ass, and your back is aching due to the thick knot of rope holding your wrists behind the chair. There’s a pounding in the back of your skull that makes you wince.

You have a dull memory of feeling a presence behind you, and then being hit before you could even throw a punch.

Someone calls your name gently. You turn to your left, and there’s Carter, strapped to his own chair. He looks rough. His eyes are bloodshot and tired, and he bears a ragged wound on his neck. It’s weeping with blood that stains his shirt, likely hours old, by the way it’s dried. 

You would know that kind of bite anywhere. You feel the phantom pain where your neck meets your shoulder.

Vampires.

“You okay?” Carter asks. He looks genuinely worried for you.

“What?” you utter. You’re still a bit dazed, until a woman steps into the room. Her long brown hair is tied up in a ponytail, and her leather jacket matches her dark wash jeans and black boots. She gathers her hands behind her back and gives you a smile. 

“Morning, sweetheart. Have a good little nap?” she asks. 

“You know...I’ve had better,” you reply, rolling the crick out of your neck. Again, you glance at Carter. He looks like he’s been here for days. And, he looks guilty as hell.

A terrible feeling grows in the pit of your stomach, but you take in a breath and return your attention to the woman in front of you.

“It’s a cocky game, hunting for hunters,” you say. “What, got tired of sucking on cows and hookers?”

What can you say? After four years, Dean has rubbed off on you.

The woman cocks her head, and her smile deepens. She steps closer. Close enough to smell you as she leans in close to your cheek. She inhales your scent, her lips brushing your neck and earlobe. You grimace and try to pull away, but she grabs your head, her nails tangling sharply in your hair. 

You fucking hate vampires.

Especially after a nest of vampires turned a child, who then tried to take a chunk out of your neck. It’s been a few years since then, but you’ve always been uneasy on vamp hunts ever since. 

“I’ll make it easy for you,” the woman whispers in your ear. “You’re here because I want one thing. Just one thing… Sam and Dean Winchester.”

That shocks you, but you manage to recover enough to reply.

“Who are you?” you ask. “Why are you after them?”

“Jenny. At least, that's the name they'll remember,” she replies, toying with a strand of your hair. “And let’s just say, we have history. They killed my family. And that crime has no statute of limitations.”  

“You really think you’re going to get the drop on them?” you say, even though you’re trying to calm your breathing, and your racing heart. “Good luck, bitch.”

She grabs you by the hair, making you wince. 

“Leave her alone!” Carter says. He’s exhausted, but his anger and frustration fuel him.

The vampire suddenly releases you. But she walks behind you and moves over to him. She grabs him by his short blonde hair and forcefully cranes his head back. He makes a sound of pain, and her lips draw near to the open bite wound on his neck.  

“You shouldn’t be talking,” Jenny threatens. She abruptly lets him go and comes around to stand in front of both of you with her arms cross. She glances over at you, and gestures at your companion. 

“If you want to find the world’s most infamous killers, ask a killer,” she remarks.

You slowly turn your head toward Carter. Your expression tightens with anger—such anger that even brings furious tears to your eyes. 

“You…you lured me here,” you realize.

Carter confirms it when he can’t meet your eyes. His face tells a story of immense guilt. 

“I just thought they’d try to get the jump on Sam and Dean,” he says.

“Cooooño,” you mutter a drawn out curse through clenched teeth. Briefly you close your eyes. 

“I figured the three of you could take ‘em. I didn’t think they’d take you!” Carter exclaims.

It doesn’t change the fact that he’d lied to you, betrayed you. He tried to trade his own life for theirs, and yours as well.

“I knew you were a fucking asshole, but I never thought you were this big a coward!” you hiss.

“I’m sorry,” he tries.

“I don’t want to hear it!” you snap back. You look up at Jenny, who looks bemused watching the scene.

“And you better come packing, Twilight, because Sam and Dean are gonna gut you like a fish,” you say snidely.

Jenny smiles as one, two, three and more men step into the barn and join her. She greets them all with a nod of her head, before she turns back to you with a sharp grin.

“Oh, I’m certainly not alone.”

“Son of a bitch. I fucking told you," Dean grouses. "I knew there was something off about this whole deal.”

“I hear you,” Sam says. His tone is steady to try and anchor his brother. “We’re almost there.”

Dean is pushing Baby to her limits on a dusty road out to Bumfuck Nowhere, Nebraska. Sam has been able to track your cell phone, and even break into your text messages from his laptop. Carter’s last text to you held the location of where to meet in exact coordinates. Even Sam agreed that was strange, as if your kidnapping wasn’t bad enough. 

It has Dean white-knuckling his grip on the steering wheel. Sam’s route is leading him further away from civilization, and deeper into the woods on either side of the road. 

“How much longer, man?” Dean asks. 

Sam gives his brother a reassuring look. He’s worried for you too, but he knows he has to lock it up for Dean’s sake. 

“Couple more miles," Sam replies. "Then it looks like we’re going off-road.”

“Into the woods?” Dean asks. 

“Most likely,” Sam says. 

Fuck, Dean thinks. His gut churns with apprehension. He doesn’t even know what you’re going through right now, let alone who (or what) has you. All he knows is, he’s not losing you.

Not like this.

Not again.

Spanish Translation: “Coño.” -> "Fuck."

AN: 😮‍💨 Diving into the thick of it on this one! Lots of conflict and tension, but what did you think of her argument with Dean about her "dream?" And how do you think it's going to play out with Carter? 😬

Here's a sneak peek at where we're going:

Next Time:

Your lips thin into a line. “Or you’re just stupid enough to leave a couple of hunters alone. You better damn hope he doesn’t find Sam and Dean. Even when they don’t know what’s coming, they should be the stuff of your nightmares. But when they’re prepared?”

You lick your dry lips and give Jenny a grim smile, with more confidence than you actually feel.

“Say goodbye to your family,” you say.

After a beat, Jenny smiles tightly and grabs your face. Her nails bite into your cheeks.  

“All right, Nate. You can have a taste,” she says.

She steps to the side as one of the larger backup dancers in her little entourage draws near. Jenny wrenches your head back by your hair so he can lean in and bite into your neck. Your scream reverberates on the barn walls.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series

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@chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords

[oceisastar]

Skott x male reader with belly bulge? Imagine a reader that is much taller than him and larger in size, I want to see how Skott accepts the reader while he lightly presses on the resulting bulge 🤤

MDNI (male!reader x skott; skott is an IPC employee & reader is his superior, skott is drunk and mouthy, petplay, spanking, minor belly bulge, mention of breeding, very brief feminization ("cunt"), brief moment where skott says "no" but not seriously, they have a safe move and he does not use it)

do not repost / translate / re-use my work in any shape or form. this is strictly for entertainment purposes/fiction and is not intended to support or endorse these power dynamics irl!

*** Skott is quite the pain in your ass. Insolent, two-timing, and a whiny brat at that.

Still, he has his redeeming perks. you first noticed him when Caelus made him get on his knees and bark in front of everyone at Aurum Alley.

That certainly caught your attention. He’s rather cute, even though he makes your life a living headache. His loyalty to the IPC is never in question, though his methods are often crass.

You remember having to bail him out when he got caught with a bunch of IPC mechs at the Xianzhou Luofu docks. He was making all sorts of fuss at first—until you helped him get out of being thrown in prison for suspicious cargo counts.

He tried to explain, stutter and justify until finally he mumbled out a, “Thank you,” bright red with embarrassment.

It was nice, to see him so obedient. like a dog.

One night, Skott approaches you, obviously drunk. “You… hey! Yeah, you!”

You incline your head. This is certainly not the way an IPC employee speaks to his superior.

“You think you’re so much better than the rest of us, ‘cause you’re so big and smart and hot and… hot!” He jabs a finger in your direction.

You catch his wrist, lifting his arm up.

“I would watch your tone, Skott. Someone else might misconstrue this as you trying to come onto me. And that would be an HR violation, wouldn’t it?”

Skott’s cheeks go bright red. “You’re insane! You have no idea what you’re talking about! I’m just pointing out how unfair it is that you’re getting preferential treatment.”

“Am I?" You tower over him, your shadow looming over him. "I would call it observant. I see how you look at me, Skott.”

His eyes go wide. "What are you talking about?"

“I even caught you sniffing one of my jackets the other day. But I let it go, because I’m a kind man who cares about my subordinates.”

Skott looks like he wants to melt into the earth.

“I know what you get up to, Skott.” You press your lips to the shell of his ear. “Nothing you do gets by me.”

He shudders, letting out a broken whine in response.

“I—that wasn’t me. It was a-someone else.”

“Was it?" Your fingers skirt his collarbone, tugging at the chain around his neck. "I distinctly remember seeing your dog tag when I was walking away.”

To your surprise, Skott shifts, trying to hide the growing bulge in his pants. You smile licentiously.

“Skott… don’t you know it’s bad to lie to your superiors?”

Your hand slides down to grab at his waist. It’s so small, fitting perfectly against the curve of your palm.

“N-now, wait a minute! What do you think you’re—”

“I think you deserve to be punished.” Your hand slides down to knead at his ass. He jolts forward, chest pressing up against the broad planes of your chest.

"P-punished?! Now you're just talking nons--ah!" he moans unintentionally, turning bright red as he squirms.

"You stole my jacket. That's IPC property. And we don't take lightly to theft."

“It... just happened. I—I didn’t mean to.” He says miserably, looking into your eyes. His eyes are watery, wide and repentant.

“I know you didn’t. You just need someone to teach you better. To show you how to take it like a good boy. Or should I say, a good dog?” You smile at him.

His cock strains against his pants, now unmistakably visible.

“What do you say, Skott? Are you in the mood for some training?”

There’s a long silence before he swallows, cheeks blushing.

“Yes… sir. Please punish me.”

________________________________

Skott is on all fours, ass up in the air as he yelps, your hand coming down swiftly to smack him over and over.

“T-thirty one… thirty… ah!”

“Ah, ah, Skott. You lost count. Such a bad boy.”

“D-don’t make me do it again, please! This is the… third time!” He hiccups. He’s nearly soiled his pants through with how aroused he is, glasses slipping down his nose.

“I would make you go again, but since it’s our first time, I can grant a little reprieve. That poor cock of yours needs a little mercy, hm?”

Your hand slips unapologetically below his boxers and cups his aching cock.

“Ah—oh! Sir!” He calls out, jolting forward. You begin to jerk him off, shoving off his pants until he’s about to burst.

“W-why’d you stop?” He says pathetically.

“Because I’m going to fuck you.”

________________________________

After painstakingly stretching him, his cock dripping all over the floor, his nipples hard from all the attention, you slowly press your cock against his, sliding between his thighs.

“Tell me how badly you want it.”

“I… huh… g-give it to me.”

“That’s no way to ask. I’ll give you one more chance. Try again.”

“I, mmhm, want your c-cock, sir. Please put it in my fat hole.”

“Show me.”

Skott is burning up inside, his hands coming to spread his cheeks for you, showing off the pretty pink treat inside.

“Very good.”

Without another word, you slide inside. Skott wails, clenching endlessly around you.

“You’re so, hrgh, fucking tight.” You grit out, rolling your hips as you try to get used to him.

“Oh god!” Skott claws at the floor, back arching inadvertently as your weight presses down onto him.

“Haven’t been fucked by a cock this big?” You ask, slowly grinding into him.

“N-no,” he sniffles, “you’re the b-biggest, sir.”

“What were you really doing with my jacket, Skott?”

“I…”

You stop moving. He clenches relentlessly, crying out at your stillness.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop—”

“Answer my question.” Your hand pushes down on his back, forcing him to bow further.

“I masturbated to it, okay! I used it and I—I got off with it. But I took it for dry cleaning right after and I—ah!”

You already knew the answer—the strange stain when it came back. Dry cleaning is good, but not for that.

“Ruining a perfectly good jacket for your base fantasies.” Your hand smacks across his ass, watching his cheeks jiggle from the movement.

“Oh, fuck!” Skott cries out, tightening around you, squeezing your length.

You fuck him harder, pressing your full body weight onto him so he melts into the floor.

“Tell me, have you thought about this before? Me fucking you, taking your tight ass?”

“Yes..! Yes!” He slobbers all over the floor, drunk on your heated touch.

“Such a needy dog.” You growl.

Skott cries out, shuddering and shaking. You press your hips all the way, as deep as possible, and he cries out.

Your hand traces the thin lines of his stomach, feeling the bulge of your hardness pressing through.

“S-Sir…” he lets out a broken moan. You press harder, and Skott cries out. “Please! I—I can feel you so deep...”

“Just what I expected from someone like you. You live to take cock, don’t you?”

Skott sobs an incoherent answer. You press him down harder, pressing your balls up against his ass.

“Need a big strong man to breed you, huh?”

Skott claws at the floor, arching his back as you fuck him deeper.

“N-no, sir, too deep!”

Despite his words, there’s no taps on your arm, signaling he’s fine.

“Shut up. You’ll take it.”

You thrust harder, more aggressively, animalistically, taking everything you want from Skott laid bare at your feet.

“Such a good cunt. Made for me.”

Skott weeps, cumming all over himself as he feels you fill him over and over.

“And I’m going to show you how we reward good employees.”

[aeferfckr]

stress reliever

"if you ever need a stress reliever, i'm here." he wonders just how willing you are to live up to your words.

content warnings. smut read at ur own risk. gender neutral reader. asshole aether agenda (delulu). overworked!aether. petnames (slut, pretty, whore). degradation. rough sex. (kinda) aftercare (717 wrds.)

"traveler! help me deliver this package!"

"hey, traveler! wipe out this camp for me!"

"traveler! i lost my keys!"

"traveler!" this, "traveler!" that, "traveler!" "traveler!" "traveler!" he was sick of it.

the last thing aether expected was becoming everyone's little service dog while making his way through teyvat.

sure, sometimes it paid off. the connections he's made have definitely been used in multiple scenarios, but nothing could really prepare him for the workload dropped on him.

he always accepted their requests with a smile, and a quick 'i'll see it done!' but what about when he needed something?

trying to find his sister was the main mission for his journey. he asked for help but all he got was missing person posters placed in peculliar places (its the thought that counts, amber...).

when he found out the reason for his sister's disappearance, the reason for why she woke up before him, he shut down.

maybe by fate he ran into you that night, his body falls at ease in the couch as he sits beside you, while his fists ball up at the comment you made the other day

"if you ever need a stress reliever, i'm here."

his vision darkens, he wonders just how willing you are to live up to your words.

:::

the mouth that curves into the sweetest smile while helping others spew degrading words with ease — slut, bitch, whore, and the like.

his pace as relentless as his words, his dick piercing you with such ease as the sounds of skin making contact fill the room.

he had you face down ass up, holding you down by the neck as he recently attacks your hole. your screams muffled by the silk flower sheets as aether growls into your ear.

"you fucking slut. you like to be pounded like this, huh?"

he’s met with muffled grunts and whines as he laughs deeply

“hmm? pretty little thing to cockdrunk to respond? i know how to make this slutty little hole of yours shout my name”

and that he did.

he adjusts his hold on your nape, moving it under your chin to hoist you up to him. he presses his chest against your back as you hold onto his thighs for dear life, screaming while choking from the merciless grip on your throat.

“you like that, whore?” he whispers to you, using his free hand to tweak your budding nipple “like being fucked dumb on my cock?”

you nod with scrunched up eyes your mouth agape and a small trail of drool coming from your mouth. aether laughs again as he kisses your cheek then attacks your neck, blooming dark spots along your neck and collarbone with his teeth.

“ae– hmmgf– aether!” you manage to moan out, “g-gonna cum!”

edge after edge and you still declare when your orgasm is approaching? god…

“you’re pathetic.” he spits, tightening the grip on your jugular as he quickens his unbelievably fast advamces. “cum for me, slut.”

your voice hits an all time high as your orgasm crashes over you, (more like shocks your core and rocks your entire world) the position that you were in made sure that aether’s dick kisses your cervix deliciously.

you crash back onto the sheets as aether hurriedly rubs his cock, spurts of white decorating your back and ass as he growls praise’s through clenched teeth.

:::

"oh my gods. i am so sorry"

maybe you were too into it to remember your fairly busy schedule the next day. you had to call in sick at the very last minute as aether's stress has rendered you weak in the knees. no literally, it hurt to walk.

aether isn't fairing any better as he profusedly apologized for going too hard.

"i can do what you were gonna do today! i don't mind!" he offers with exaggerated expressions, his arms flailing around as his face scrunches up with anxiety.

you cup his face to calm him down,

"aether, the only thing you can do for me right now is to stay with me until noon." you yawn, "the both of us needs the rest, okay?"

his thoughts slow down as his heart aret speeds up, looking at your dazed smile and the tears that are created along your eye when you yawned,

"okay."

© aeferfckr // mlist.

[inkyquince]

So you know when you have dogpeople activated, it's a huge taboo to be caught fuckin em and such

So they have the usual dog roles don't they?

So just... Having thoughts...

characters. Whitney. Mention of Landry and Niki.

cw. Whitney times ahead. Dog-person reader. Mention of animal cruelty but nothing graphic, just a joke. Breeding, pet play to the extreme, taboo behaviors, for fucking DoL at least. Whitney watching you piss, make of that what you will. 2.6k words.

Whitney never really liked dogs. Everyone thought he should, a boy treasuring a loyal companion who wouldn’t mind sticking by him, even joining in on his shenanigans. They were wrong. Whitney was never a fan of dogs. Cats. Anything. 

Worse? Hybrids. Fucking useless. Not a full dog, not a full person. 

So, when his aunt surprised him with a dopey fucking dog, he was less than pleased. What the shit was he going to do with this thing? None of the pros of having a dog, all the cons of having a dog AND a fucking roommate. Even if the stupid thing didn’t even realize it. 

“Can just tie them up outside. It’ll walk itself, shit in the corner of the garden, piss. Just throw some chow out there and it’ll snarf that up.” One of his friends leaned over to light his cigarette, fingers curved against the wind blowing through the park. 

“Pretty sure that’s animal cruelty.” Someone piqued up, coughing after dragging on a shoddily rolled joint. 

“You’d only get half the sentence, though.” 

Whitney huffed to himself and took a drag on his cigarette, letting the heat fill his lungs, tickling his throat pleasantly before exhaling raggedly. 

“Should just sell the thing.” He mused, flicking the ash into the wet grass. “Get some fucking use out of it.” 

“Give it to Landry, he and that photographer use ‘em for those videos.” That piqued his interest. 

“What videos? The usual sick shit?” Whitney glanced over, aware of some of the shit the criminal helped produce. Fuck, that was the first time he ever jerked it to fucking internet porn. Some nasty fucking shit, not entirely… Legal, but fucking normal in this town. 

“Oh, better. Landry’s a sick fucking puppy, bro.” His lackey grinned up at him, so proud of catching Whitney’s interest at long last. “Yknow, those pups are horny, but you gotta just shake them off and then they just lick their own crotch for a while. But, y’know, some people? Some people… Fuck em.” “Yeah, no shit, cuntface.” Whitney wasn’t a fucking idiot. Hell, he loved sending stupid sluts to go grab something for him, only for them to get trapped with a dog person. Fucking rubbing their stupid cunts on their face, or getting mounted by a fat dick, and the stupid slut crying for someone to help them. No one wants to be seen getting rutted into or against by one of those stupid things. It’s fucking humiliating. The entire town labels you a pervert. “I know people fuck the-” “Landry films it. Films it and uploads it. Then give the dog-person over to the pound or something.” She relaxed against the grass, leaning back so glibly that she didn’t realize that she was lying in his cigarette ash. Idiot.  The others pulled faces at each other, grossed out at the thought  of anyone getting off on watching someone fucking or getting fucked by a dog-person. Whitney, however, squinted at her. 

“Any good?” “Whitney, gross-”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck off, are they any good?” 

“I mean… From the views alone, I’m saying Landry is making a neat little sum on the side.” She shrugged before pulling her phone out and typing on it, her long fake nails making the most annoying clicking noises. Whitney’s annoyance grew until she finally showed him a website she pulled up. All he got was a glimpse of a page packed with thumbnails of cocks and tits and dogtails before she took her phone back again. “I say, sell the thing to him, and if they’re good enough, you’ll get a nice bit of pocket money on the side.” “Hey, that’s not a bad idea, is it, Whit?” One of the other blockheads piqued up. “Grab random dog people and sell them?” “Landry’s not going to take any random mutt, shitlips.” “It’s Lipschitz! And fuck off, it was a good idea-”

“Yeah, for a dipshit-” 

Whitney rolled his eyes and leaned back on the swing again, exhaling the smoke from his nose as he ignored the bickering between his lackeys again. Yeah. Get rid of you, and get a nice payday. He could work with that. 

Except as he walked, he couldn’t help but mull it over. The site. The amount of videos. Curiosity nagged at him with each step, bringing him closer to his evening plans. 

His parents were never in anymore, especially in the evenings. Off, on a date night, wrapped up in each other, or at work, or at what the fuck ever. It’s always been up to him to make his own food, wash up, clean, except now he was doing it for two. Heated up something in the oven for himself and poured some food for you into your bowl, dragging on his cigarette as he watched you chew loudly, snarfing it down gratefully. Refilling your water as he washed his plate, jabbing at the chunks of food before giving up and leaving it to soak, so his mother would eventually take care of it. Pulling a face as you whined to be let out and nudging the backdoor open so you could trot out and make yourself comfy, stubbing out his cigarette as he watched you piss into the grass, feeling something warm in the curve of his belly. Eventually tugging you back inside and locking the door before heading upstairs, ignoring your excited little steps after him. Continued to ignore you as he flung himself into bed, as you nosed among his things, before tucking yourself under his cluttered desk with a little yawn. Whitney’s kicks off his pre-ripped jeans, underwear and shirt before giving his balls a rub, stretching out on his duvet. He slipped on some sweats, before dragging a blanket over his midriff, more focused on his phone, pulling up the website whats-her-fuck showed him earlier. 

It was obvious that most videos came from one person, with only a few being some real amateur shit, with shaky camera and an overexcited camera person. No, Landry’s shit was obviously good. Niki as the camera guy, appreciative angles, but also… 

It fucking looked good. 

The dog boy sitting all cute, blinking like a stupid bitch at the camera as it zoomed in on his big eyes before zooming out. Late at night, at the beach, his tail wagging, before the camera pans over to some guy, naked from the waist down. Cock bobbing as this dude massages his own balls. 

“This your dog?” A voice from behind the camera asks and the guy nods. “You fuck the pooch a lot?” 

“Oh yeah.” The guy’s obviously mic'd up, with the seashore wind picking up. “I got him from the pound and he just had such a cute ass. They’re so easy to train. Watch.” 

The guy whistles and the puppy boy trots over excitedly, his bubble butt raised high and proud, almost inviting a pervert in. Whitney’s cock began to rise, tenting his sweats. He huffed to himself, laying his hand over his bulge and giving it a squeeze. The dog-person leans up to sniff a bit at the guy’s cock but doesn't seem that interested, more into sweetly nuzzling at his balls. There were a few chuckles from the men standing around and the pup looked around, tongue lolling out, tail wagging so hard at being the object of such enjoyment. 

“He’s cute.” The guy behind the camera said, to some murmurs of agreement. 

“You ain’t seen nothing yet.” The guy chuckled before snapping his fingers at the dog-boy. “Present.” 

The change was instantaneous. His ears perked up and his tail started going a mile miles per hour. Fuck, even his knotted cock sprang up so quickly that it earned an appreciative whistle. Within moments, he had fallen onto his back and rolled over onto his soft tummy, raising his ass, even humping the air a bit, as if trying to entice. 

“Yeah, puppy. You want a nice breeding, don’t you?” The guy dropped to his knees and Whitney had to slip his hand into his sweats at long lost, massaging at his shaft eagerly. 

The puppy-boy whined and raised his ass further, spreading his legs. 

“Breed! Please breed!” He whined, shaking his ass like he was about to pounce. 

Whitney groaned, his stomach tightening, slipping his cock free fully and jerking it with desperation. His thumb dragging against his slit, teasing out precum as he desperately played with himself. Fuck, he didn’t really get it before, but this was fucking doing it for him. Stupid sluts he enjoyed, but fuck. Trained stupid sluts, rolling over at the snap of his fingers? No wonder Landry was having success with this shit, way more appealing than anything he’s watched before- 

The feeling of something wet brushing the back of his hand made him cuss and nearly throw his phone. Blinking against the dark after staring at his phone screen for so long, it took him a moment to realise what the fuck that feeling even was. 

Your big stupid eyes were staring up at him, nudging your nose against the back of his hand with a look of blind adoration. 

“What ya watching?” Your tail was wagging, probably having heard the sound of an excited puppy-boy from across the room. 

Whitney glanced from your big, excited eyes, your tail wagging wildly, back to the his video, titled “Puppy-boy bred full at the beach”, with the camera in the perfect POV shot, showing a fat cock drilling the poor dog-person’s asshole, before looking back at you. You didn’t seem perturbed by his staring, stupid bitch you were, in fact, your smile at him just broadened, happy at the attention. Your happy little face so close to his fat cock, throbbing still in his hand. 

He slowly sat up, chucking his phone to the side, slipping into a cross legged position, cock pressing against his stomach. Whitney took hold of the base of his cock, a smirk slowly growing on his face as you remained close, tail wagging. Squeezing the base of his cock, he watched as your eyes went from looking at his face, to his erection with an innocent curiosity. He grinned and lightly tapped the head against your lips, smearing precum, and your tongue flicked out to taste it, before scrunching your cute little face up. 

“Salty.” You stuck out your tongue, as if airing it out would help. 

Whitney took the moment to drag his cock over it again, your rough tongue brushing over the slit in a way that almost had him grab you by your floppy ears and fuck your mouth… Well…

“Open.” Whitney demanded, and you whined, tail stilling for a moment before you opened your maw. 

Perfect. A sloppy, pink hole for him to fuck until you learn to love the taste of cock. Maybe that will up your value. 

In the dark of the room, with the only light being from his phone, the loudest noise was the wet slap of his cock rubbing against your drooling tongue, hitting the back of your throat, saliva swishing loudly as Whitney groaned. It wasn’t like the sluts at school. You couldn’t stop salivating, spit running down your chin as your tail continued to wag wildly. He could fucking condition you. Just the whiff of cock and you’d be a drooly, wet mess. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Who's my good puppy?” He groaned, letting his mouth run without meaning to. 

You whined with excitement, ears perking up at the first bit of positive reinforcement you had ever gotten from Whitney. 

“Yeah, you are. My cute, stupid, cockwhore puppy.” His tone was soft and your brain registered as good, as your brain clouded and you couldn’t stop drooling. “Gonna fuck you, huh? Gonna breed your stupid puppy hole, huh?” 

Your tail stopped all together, your eyes growing large and dark. Ah. Liked that word huh? Whitney yanked his cock out of your throat, drool spilling all over his floor, dripping from his erection and your tongue. 

“Alright. Roll over, or something. C’mon.” 

You whined and spread your legs from your seated position, sitting back on your haunches, showing off how excited you were, making a mess all over his floor. Squirming a bit, you fell onto your back, tail peeking out and wagging as you stared up at your master with unblemished love. Whitney smirked and kneeled down in front of you, leaning over for a moment to spit into your mouth before papping his slicked up cock against your hole, puffy and ready to be bred. 

The sound of the front door opening had him stilling for just a moment, and his cock softened a bit. If his parents found him with his stupid dog-person like this? What-

Your hole snagged against the tip of his cock, jerking his attention back to you as you whined and desperately humped at him. Alright. Fuck. Yeah. His pooch needed seeing to. As his parents moved around downstairs, his mother bemoaning the fact he left his dishes in the sink, he put a sweating palm over your mouth, letting you lick the salt from his palm as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your hole. Whitney groaned as he slowly sunk into you, your excited huffing slipping into a pleasured whine. 

“Good puppy.” Whitney hissed out between his teeth, his hips moving involuntarily as he fucked into your tight, sloppy heat. The squelching sound of his curved cock hitting deep into your hole was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever fucking heard. He’s heard sluts whining for cock, he’s fucked his fair share of whores, but jesus christ, this puppy-bitch was the best of both worlds. Loyal, dumb, like a dog, with the hole of the nastiest whore in town. Thoughts of selling you onto Landry, only seeing you fucked open on videos, slipped away, more focused on simultaneously trying to fuck deeper and deeper into you, but also keeping quiet as his parents ascended the staircase. 

“I should check on Whitney.” His mother whispered to his father, who just grunted. 

His panic flipped, both from his balls tightening as your heat clamped down around him, but also shock. Whitney was not going to get caught fucking his stupid fucking dog-person. With a low hiss, he hooked his arms around your thighs and picked you up, you nuzzling into his neck with a happy huff, stupid bitch. He almost had to wrestle you into bed, with you excitedly still trying to back up against his cock trapped in your hole. His mother’s voice came closer and he just barely yanked his covers up over him and you, with you still snuffling at his cheek. 

The door opened and a line of light cut across his room and there was a beat of silence, with you still lovingly nuzzling into him. 

“Awh. He finally let the pooch sleep on his bed.” His mother cooed. There was another beat, of her watching him, and you slowly humping at his cock, balls about to fucking burst inside his puppy-person with his mother fucking watching. 

After a beat, the door closed again, and Whitney let out a guttural moan into your shoulder, a few more humps from you more than enough to send him over the edge, cum flooding your hole as his mother’s footsteps retreated to the master bedroom. 

“Fucking… Hell…” Whitney raggedly breathed out as you shivered against him, beginning to lick affectionately at his chin. You were more of a person than a dog, he guessed. 

A few days later, he was back at the park, with you dozing against his knee as he sat at the fountain.  Whitney had struggled with selling you to Landry, with his friends around him remarking their surprise the mutt was still around and still as adoring of him as ever. With only the one who recommended  him the site giving him a knowing leer and petting your ears. 

[sentientcave]

Dogs Will Hunt (Slasher AU)

Honey It's Alright - Part 1

Read on AO3

Dark Fic! Please mind the warnings

Contains: Stalking, Allusion to past kidnapping, Canon-typical violence, Canon-atypical violence, dub con touching, implied dub con/non con, threats of death and violence, just general bad vibes, playing with my OCs like dolls and putting them in situations. Morgan is from Sparrow, and Kitty is from Wildflowers and Honey. This is not canon to their stories at all.

~7,500 words - MDNI

For the first time in ages, Morgan let herself relax, sitting at the kitchen table, slotting the pieces of her rifle back together, the comforting smell of gun grease heavy in the humid summer air. The windows were open to the night, and there was nothing but crickets out there, a shrill chorus in the background, the occasional chirping frog or whistling bird joining the twilight chorus.

She'd given John the slip-- If he was going to find her he would have by now. It had been months since she escaped his cellar (she'd been down there for weeks because of bad behaviour, and he'd gone hunting, leaving her alone with Soap and an opportunity), she'd dug the tracker out of her skin in Greece, zig-zagged across the continent leaving clues for him to chase down, and then stowed away on a shipping container headed to the states. She'd walked most of the way from the coast to her little house in Montana, where an identity totally removed from her old life waited for her. She was lucky she'd set that up as a fail-safe years ago. She only had three identities that maintained themselves so neatly, and Sarah and Blaire were both a little to close to John's house in Northern England to be comfortable. So she was Rebecca Carter now.

And it was nice. So much like home, and no one looked at her weird for carrying a rifle in the backseat of her truck. She found work when she got tired of pacing the cabin with nothing to do, helping repair a neighbour's tractor, and then a few cars, until everyone in town knew she was pretty handy with anything with an engine. It made her nervous, being so known, but there was nothing for it in a small town. Would’ve been more notable if she never spoke to anyone.

The crunch of gravel coming up the long lonely track that ended at her cabin set her heart hammering, the moment of relaxation gone, but she tried to calm herself down again when she peeked out the window, rifle at the ready, and saw that it was just Kitty driving up in her beat up silver Buick.

"Hey, Kit," she called out, stepping onto the porch, hiding her anxiety behind a big smile. "Car trouble?" The car was making a very unhappy grinding sound that stopped when the car did, although the engine still didn’t sound too healthy. Poor Kitty was running patch to patch with that stupid car, but Morgan was happy to help her out. Kitty was the sort of girl that had sorely needed a friend, and she’d attached herself to Morgan pretty quickly, despite her efforts to stay aloof.

She was too soft. Friends were liabilities these days, nothing but trouble. Another avenue for John to find her, if he was even still looking. He’d probably given up when the trail went cold. Even a bloodhound like him couldn’t search forever.

"Yeah! Could you take a look?" Kitty cut the engine and popped the hood, an apologetic look on her face as she climbed out of the driver's seat. "Sorry it's so late, I just got off my shift."

"Hey, no sweat honey. You know I'm never up to all that much."

Kitty was a pretty little thing, a hand-span shorter than Morgan, small boned like a bird, all soft curves and wide doe-like eyes peering out of her round face. Full of anxious energy most of the time, and especially now, nerves stretched thin after a long shift of avoiding grasping hands and smiling wide through it all. She bounced on her toes as Morgan leaned over the engine, watching. "Yeah. Owen said he asked you out. Why'd you say no?"

"Don't like him that much," Morgan said, shrugging. "Had my fill of men."

Kitty bit her lip, folding her hands behind her back. "Forever?" she asked.

Morgan braced her arms on the car, looking over. "Why do I feel like there's an ask attached to that question?"

"Well. Mason asked me out. He's got a friend workin' at the depot, Jack— I actually don’t know his last name— and he'd like to turn it into a double date. Think he knows I won't be so twitchy if you're there with me."

"When's this?"

"Tomorrow night, if you're free. Figured you would be, so I already said yes, but I can ask Mason not to bring his buddy if you can't. No pressure. Lord knows I owe you plenty already, can't ask for a favour."

"You don't owe me shit, Kitty. We're friends."

“Don’t have a lot of friends who do as much for me as you do,” Kitty said, her expression turning sheepish. “You really don’t have to say yes. Just figured you might want to get out, meet somebody. It’s not good for a person to spend as much time alone as you do.”

“Already know everyone I’d like to. But I’ll come along, if you want me too. Promise to be nice and everything.”

Kitty laughed. “Everyone knows your bark is worse than your bite by now, Beck. It’ll be fun. Maybe Jack’ll turn out to be the one. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Morgan grunted noncommittally. “Probably won’t be. Think it’s one of the wheel bearings. Is the car shaking when you drive?”

Kitty nodded. “Yeah. Is that bad?”

“Well it’s not good. Let me get underneath and check it out. The jack’s in my truck.” Morgan went inside to grab her keys and came back out, frowning. Kitty had already opened up the back door of the truck for her.

“Looks like you left it open,” she said. “I don’t even know why you bother to lock it, all the way out here.”

“I’m not keen on the idea of someone getting into my shit.” Morgan gently moved Kitty to the side and leaned in to grab the box of emergency supplies from under the back seat, her nose wrinkling. The cab smelled wrong, like tobacco smoke and cedar— Like John.

Dread settled into her stomach like lead. He’d found her. He’d been in her truck, probably been in her house— She dropped the box back in and scanned the trees surrounding the cabin, hunting for anything out of the ordinary.

“What’s the matter?” Kitty asked. “You’re all pale.”

“My ex has been here. He’s a sick fuck, Kit. I need to get out of town.” She looked at Kitty, the lead in her belly turning molten, hot with guilt and anger. What if she’d put Kitty in danger too? It was a mistake to have friends. A mistake to think John wouldn’t track her down. She should have kept moving, shouldn’t have let her guard down, should have just turned around somewhere and waited for him to catch up and killed him.

Her stomach churned. What if he’d been following her the whole time? What if he’d been in town as long as she had? “Kit, did you meet that Jack guy? He ever been to the diner?”

Kit nodded, her eyes wide as saucers. “Y-yeah, he’s a regular. Beck, you’re really freaking me out.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Um. Big. Handsome. Blue eyes, beard, a smile that’s all in his eyes. Um. He’s got a mole, or a freckle on his nose. He’s really nice though, Beck, he always tips well, and he’s never pawed at me.” Kitty scrubbed her hands on the polyester skirt of her uniform nervously. “And he’s been here almost as long as you have. And he’s English,” she added, as if that made it impossible for him to be John, rather than the nail in Morgan’s proverbial coffin.

Morgan swallowed acid. He’d been here for months, watching her let her guard down slowly, laughing at her, watching her get close to Kitty. “Fuck. That’s him.” Morgan grabbed Kitty’s hand and pulled her into the house. She locked the front door and closed the kitchen window. “Stay here a sec. I have to sweep the house.”

“Sweep?” Kitty asked blankly. “But…” She trailed off when she saw Morgan pick up the rifle. “Oh.”

Morgan checked all the rooms quickly, closing windows as she went, hunting for any sign of John. He wasn’t there, thank fucking god. She returned to the kitchen. “Kit, I’m leaving town tonight. I think you should come with me. If John’s been here this long, he might hurt you to get back at me. I don’t want that to happen.” She cupped Kitty’s face, hands trembling. “He’ll know how much I care about you.”

Kitty’s breath hitched, big brown eyes flicking between Morgan’s, like she was hunting for a sign it was a joke, or a lie. “You want me to come with you?”

“Please. I can’t let him hurt you, Kit. I’m going to pack a bag. You think about it. I can’t promise that you’ll be safer with me, but I can promise I’ll do everything I can to keep you alive.”

Kitty swallowed. “I’ll come with you,” she whispered. “Can— Can I get my things?”

“Yeah. Hopefully he thinks we’re still gonna show up for that date. Which’ll give us a good head start. We’ll drop by your apartment on the way out of town.” Morgan marched back to her room, Kitty close on her heels, and threw things into a bag, prioritizing dark, basic clothes and essentials. She pulled her shoulder harness on over her t-shirt and took her pistols from their hiding spots, checking both for tampering before sliding them into the holsters under her arms. She threw an oversized denim jacket on over top and zipped up the bag. “Let’s go.”

Kitty shook from nerves, but held herself together admirably, following Morgan out to the truck and sitting in the passenger seat as Morgan rifled through everything, searching for the tracker John had most certainly planted in the vehicle. Probably in anticipation of her fleeing their “date” the next day.

She found two, one tucked into the curling pages of the manual in the glovebox, and a magnetic one stuck under the back bumper. She stuck that one to Kitty’s car, and tossed the other one underneath it. Then she hopped into the driver’s seat and drove away from the place that had been home for months now, her heart twisting viciously in her chest.

In an instant, Becca became a stranger.

Beck was unshakable, cool and calm, detached. And then she wasn’t.

That someone could frighten her this much… It terrified Kitty. Made her sick to think that a favourite regular— a friend— was someone that would hurt Beck— That would hurt her to get at Beck. That she’d been smiling at him all this time, won over by the accent and the charm, the genuine interest in her sad little life. Those sincere blue eyes. He’d seemed so nice.

She held onto the corner of Becca’s jacket as she checked for intruders in Kitty’s apartment, and then packed a bag as quickly as she could, following Beck’s directions to pack practical clothes, to keep things light. That was easy. There wasn’t all that much in the place she cared about. The only sentimental items she took were the little photo album from her childhood and her jewellery box. She could sell things, if they needed the money. She wasn’t really sure what life on the run would entail. Wasn’t sure if she was up for it.

But she’d try. Better to try, and stay close to Beck. She’d said she’d protect her, and Kitty believed it.

They didn’t say much until they hit the highway, lights from the cars on the other side of the grass median zipping past, illuminating Becca’s face in flashes. She looked grim, serious as a soldier, determined. It was almost a surprise to hear her speak after so long.

“I’m sorry this happened, Kitty. I should have known to stay away from you. I was selfish, and I put you in danger.”

“Selfish?” Kitty echoed, guilt pooling in her guts. “You’re the furthest thing from selfish! Always doin’ things for other folks— Doin’ things for me that no one else would. You’ve been a better friend than anyone in that whole rotten town.”

“You just lost everything because of me,” Becca said.

“I’d do it again!” Kitty declared. She felt bold, unmoored, nothing to lose anymore. “I’d rather have you than anything I left behind.”

Becca’s hand curled around hers, resting on her leg. Kitty’s heart skipped several beats. “I just hope I haven’t made things worse for you. I won’t let him hurt you, I swear. But if— If I ever tell you to run, I want you to run, and don’t look back. If he catches me— Well. It won’t be good. I don’t know what he’ll do to me. I don’t want him to do it to you.”

Kitty swallowed hard. “Who— Who is he?”

“John Price. He’s a killer. We met at a bar near my hometown about two years ago. Northern Ontario. He was nice enough. Handsome, charming. Drugged me. Woke up in the middle of the woods, just me and him. Said he’d give me a half hour head start. He likes the chase. Likes to hunt.” Her face twisted with anger at the memory, but her voice was nearly robotic as she recounted it, as thought she’d locked away all the emotion to keep it from overwhelming her. “I got away. Was more familiar with the area, better than he thought I’d be at running and navigating through the woods. My parents used to have me run— Well, it doesn’t matter. It took me a week to get home. Had to hunt with my boot knife if I wanted to eat, couldn’t stop for long anywhere. It was exhausting. I guess he thought so too, because he gave up the chase, and ambushed me at home. Wasn’t careful enough. I’m usually so cautious, but I was too tired.”

Kitty squeezed her hand lightly. “I’m sorry, Beck.”

“It’s Morgan.”

“Huh?”

“Morgan’s my actual name. Figure you should know it.”

“Oh.” That stood to reason, didn’t it? She wouldn’t have been using her real name if she was hiding out. “What— What did he do to you?”

“Well, he didn’t kill me. I guess he decided I was worth keeping. That I was more fun alive than dead. He took me home with him. Decided he wanted to play house. It was play along or get locked in the cellar for days or weeks. Sometimes he wouldn’t turn the lights on and I’d just have to sit there in the dark, all alone until he came for me. It could have been worse more often, but it was usually the cellar. He didn’t want to hurt me, he wanted to break me.”

Kitty swallowed nervously. "He sounds awful. I can't believe he sat in my diner and acted so normal when he's… like that."

"Well that's the thing about John. When he's getting his way? He's downright pleasant. Didn't get nasty until I tried to run, or broke the rules, or failed a task on purpose. If I played housewife right he was… loving, almost. Some bastardized version of that. Indulgent. It was fucked up." Beck-- No, Morgan's other hand gripped the steering wheel tight. "I hate him. I've tried to kill him a hundred times by now. He just keeps beating me."

She sounded so defeated. Angry and scared. It felt so strange to see her scared, when she was usually so together, so much stronger than anyone else Kitty knew.

They didn't stop until dawn, to fill the truck with fuel and for Morgan to get a shit gas station coffee. Kitty had fallen asleep at some point. Morgan hadn't let her drive when she’d offered, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks, not just one night. The dark circles under her eyes were purple and puffy, but she shook her head again when Kitty offered to drive.

"I can go a little while longer. You get some more sleep."

"B-- Morgan. You've been driving all night. Let me help. You'll want to be sharp if he catches up to us." Kitty reached out and gently tugged the keys out of Morgan's hand. "We'll be better off if we take care of each other. It's not all on you."

Morgan relented. "Yeah. You wake me up if you see anything concerning. Stay on major roads, but just drive anywhere. If he’s following, we can lose him in the mountains for a day or two.” She sighed and leaned back in the seat while Kitty adjusted the one on the driver's side. "I'm sorry, Kit. This is so fucked."

"It's okay." Kitty steered the truck back onto the highway. "Not your fault."

"Yeah it is," Morgan grumbled, closing her eyes. "Maybe I shoulda stayed and fought. I don't know. Just hate that I've ruined your life."

“Didn’t have much of one to ruin. It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Morgan turned toward the window with a sigh, cushioning her head from the glass with the palm of her hand.

In the silence, Kitty had nothing to do but think. About how little she really knew about Morgan, about how much she had misjudged Jack— Or John, really. She felt pretty stupid for thinking— for saying anything about her to him. Mistakes on mistakes.

She still trusted Morgan. She’d tried to be distant at the beginning of their friendship, tried to keep Kitty away. But Kitty had been so eager to make a new friend that she’d ignored all those attempts at deflection and inserted herself into Morgan’s life anyway. When she’d said that Kitty didn’t want shit to do with her, this was what she meant.

They spent three days like that. Morgan seemed to have no problem driving twenty hours straight, and wouldn’t let Kitty drive for more than four hours at a time. She was tense, wound tight, jumpy every time they had to stop for gas. She relaxed just a hair on the fourth night, and started driving more purposefully, taking them North through the mountains. She seemed to know exactly where they were, even though it was all windy mountain roads and forests, broken up by the occasional late.

Morgan cursed when they came to a road closure, forced to go around and detour from her planned route, but it didn’t really seem to slow her down any. They stopped at a gas station in some tiny mountain town early in the morning. Kitty was surprised to see Canadian flags flying from some of the houses they passed. Had they gone over a border while she was sleeping? Morgan parked off to the side so they could use the washroom and buy a handful of snacks and a map in case there were any more holdups.

Morgan stopped short, eyes turning sharp. A car had parked beside the truck, clearly too close for her comfort.

Kitty eyed the two men warily as they stood outside their car, smoking. She’d have to squeeze past the bigger fellow to get into the passenger seat again. Morgan spotted that too, and flashed them big smiles. “Any chance you boys are locals?” she asked, voice pitched higher, the slightest southern drawl colouring her voice. How did she become someone else so easily? “We got a bit turned around with that road closure, was wondering if you knew any shortcuts to Vancouver.” She unfolded the map on the hood of their car without waiting for an answer. Predictably, both of the men stepped in close on either side of her, not so subtly checking out her ass.

“Not locals, m’afraid,” the big one said. “But funny enough, that’s where we’re ‘eaded too.”

“Real tricky findin’ places to stop through here.” The other one was big too, but not as big, a baseball cap with the union jack set tilted back on his head and a wide, bright white smile on his face. He leaned on the hood of their car, his fingertips a little too close to Morgan’s hand. “Nearly went through all our cigs. Wouldn’t’ve been pretty’f we ran out before we got here. Si’s a real bear without his nicotine.”

Kitty took the opportunity to slip past to the passenger door, trying to calm her nerves. Just because they were English didn’t mean they had anything to do with John. Morgan folded her map back up, still smiling.

“Thought y’wanted ‘elp gettin’ there,” Si said, tilting his head to the side.

Morgan just tapped her now folded map against his chest playfully. “If you’re not locals, you’re not gonna know any shortcuts are you? You’ll just get me lost!”

“Might be fun, gettin’ a bit lost with us,” baseball hat said. Kitty didn’t much like the edge to his smile. But maybe she was just imagining it.

Morgan laughed. “You ever been lost in the mountains before, sugar? Wouldn’t recommend it. Ain’t that many roads that go anywhere worth goin’.” She bounced back a step, and kicked at loose bit of gravel. “But maybe we’ll see you in the city. We’re headed to the beach. Water’ll be cold, but it’s supposed to be pretty nice. Bet you’d both look pretty good with your shirts off.” She winked at baseball hat and gave them a little wave before circling back around to the drivers side and starting up the truck.

She peeled out of the parking lot, her smile falling away. “Pretty sure those are John’s boys. They’re not gonna be happy when they realize I dropped spikes in front of their tires.”

Kitty blinked. “You— Is that what you were doing?”

“That, and making sure the big guy didn’t grab you or slip a tracker on you. Once we get some distance out, I’ll have to re-check the outside of the truck too.”

Kitty let out a shaky breath. “How do you live like this?” she asked. “How do you know what to do, what to check?”

Morgan shrugged. “You get used to it.”

Kitty wasn’t sure how someone ever could.

After that, Morgan turned grim again, pushing to cover ground fast. The brush with those men had scared her too. She’d been driving all night, but she didn’t stop until the mountains were a ways behind them, and the countryside had turned flat, fields on either side of them filled with waving grasses and the occasional farm. Kitty insisted on taking over at their next stop. Morgan looked wrecked, the days of driving and poor sleep catching up with her. Kitty didn’t feel much better, but at least she’d gotten more rest.

"Where are we going?" she asked once they were on their way again.

"I know a place we can get a plane. Then I figure South America? Lots of places to disappear there." Morgan yawned, glancing in the mirror surreptitiously, as though she expected to see danger right on their tail. “Basically just drive straight down this highway. Not a lot of alternative routes around here. Wake me up in three hours, that’s about when we need to make a couple turns.”

Traffic slowed down to a crawl after two, so she tapped Morgan’s shoulder gently. “Sorry,” she said quietly. “I think the road’s closed up ahead.”

“Shit. No getting around it.” Morgan turned on the radio and flicked through stations until she found one that came in clear. “They’ll give a traffic update in a bit,” she said, blinking sleep out of her eyes. She came around fast, like she was used to waking up and moving quick. “We still inching forward every few minutes?”

Kitty nodded.

“They’ve prob’ly cleared a lane, be feeding folks through one side at a time. S’gonna suck, probably add three or four hours to the drive.”

“It’ll give you more time to sleep,” Kitty said.

They waited for the traffic report, grimacing at the details of it. Truck driver asleep at the wheel, veered into oncoming traffic and took out three cars. Only the truck driver and his passenger survived.

“Fuck, that’s a mess,” Morgan said grimly. “They need to regulate the industry better. That shit happens too often. Lots of drivers shouldn’t have a license, and the whole industry is overworked and pushed to get deliveries done in too short a time. S’fucked.”

Diplomatically, Kitty didn’t mention the fact that Morgan had been driving for sixteen hours straight herself. “There’s really no way around?”

“Might be, but that map I bought ended a good eighty kilometres ago. We’d better stay on this road or I’ll get us lost.” Morgan sighed. “We’re gonna lose our head start at this rate.”

“Already? He doesn’t know where we’re going, does he?”

“Doubt it. But I have to act like he’s right on my tail, because he usually is.” Morgan leaned her head back against the headrest with a sigh. “Let me get another hour of sleep, keep checking your mirrors, looking around. You see anything the slightest bit funny, wake me up again.”

Kitty nodded. “I will. Get some rest, Morgan.”

“What the fuck do you mean you rented out my plane?” Morgan snarled, resisting the urge to strangle the airfield manager, but only barely.

The portly, balding man with the name tag that said Tim Kent held his clipboard up defensively. “Look, we haven’t heard anything from you in over two years—”

“You still getting paid?”

“Well, y-yes,” Tim said nervously.

“Then why the fuck would you think that anything had changed?”

“Well, I— I um—”

“Forget it,” she snapped, holding up a hand. It was greed, and thinking he could get away with double dipping. She didn’t need him to say it. “When’s it back?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he said. “We’ll have it ready for you as soon as it comes back. There’s a motel, just down the highway— I know the owner, can get him to comp you a room, Ms. Winters.”

If it were just her, she'd sleep in the truck, with the doors locked and the keys in the ignition, ready to drive off at a moments notice. But Kitty-- Kitty needed a moment to collect herself, needed to shower, and sleep in a bed, and regroup. If Morgan had to sleep on the floor in front of the door with her rifle in her lap to make that happen, so be it.

"Yeah. Alright." It was against every instinct for survival she had. She knew that John wasn't far behind, if his boys had been that close. If they even were his boys. Maybe she'd fucked up the day of some totally innocent Brits on holiday.

It didn't matter. She'd just kill John if she saw him. Get it over with. No more fucking around. She couldn’t run forever. Kitty certainly couldn’t. It hadn’t even been a week, and Kitty was already nervous and stressed, on the verge of tears since their run in with the boys at the gas station. Morgan had been living like this periodically even before John.

She got the information for the motel, and about the two women who had rented the plane (two American women, which was a relief. Nothing to do with John, just an unfortunate coincidence), and headed back to the truck. Kitty was crying, and trying valiantly to pretend she wasn’t.

Morgan slid into her seat with a sigh. “Do you want to go home, Kit? I can take you back. I think that’s pretty much the only thing that would surprise him, at this point. I feel like he’s been a step ahead this whole time. Sent me running in a blind panic so he could set an ambush. I’m worried I’ve put you in more danger by asking you to come with me.”

Kitty shook her head furiously. “No! I want to stay with you. I don’t care if it’s dangerous.” She leaned across the middle seat and gripped the collar of Morgan’s jacket, pulling them together for a kiss.

Morgan tensed for a moment, surprise freezing her in place for a long moment. Suddenly, things made a lot more sense.

Kitty retreated quickly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. We can just forget it, I won’t do it again, I—” She halted mid sentence when Morgan reached out and brushed away the tears welling in her eyes again.

“Don’t be sorry. C’mere.” She gently held Kitty’s face and pressed a tentative kiss to her lips in return, tasting salt, humming when Kitty responded enthusiastically, lips parted and hands braced against Morgan’s thigh so she could leverage herself closer. For a minute, Morgan let herself forget that they were parked out in the open, that John was bound to catch up with them sooner rather than later, that they were far from safe, and that it was far from wise. She wanted to lose herself in that moment.

But good sense wouldn’t let her stay there for too long. “Come on. Lets go get something proper to eat. We’re stuck here till the morning. We’ll just have to keep an eye out.”

Morgan drove well out of the way to find a diner to eat dinner at, and watched the door the whole time, barely tasting her food. Kitty, at least, looked a little more settled with a proper meal in her, relaxing slightly even while Morgan twitched at every new patron coming through the door.

"What was he like when he wasn't— I mean— Was it all bad?"

Kitty's question surprised Morgan out of her vigilance, splitting her focus down the middle. It took a moment to figure out a response to that. “I sucked at following his rules. Fought him on everything. So I spent a lot more time getting punished than I did anything else.” She picked up a cold fry off her plate and dipped it in ketchup. “He wanted me to like him. I’m sure he could have been worse.”

Kitty nodded slowly. "What was he like when you did follow the rules?"

"A creep. Making me wear short little dresses without panties while I did housework, if he let me wear clothes at all. Letting me sleep in bed so he could feel me up. Asking if I was done being stubborn or if I was ready to ask for his cock. Fucking pervert." She tossed the fry into her mouth. "It was some kind of fucking game to him. He wanted me to beg for it."

"Oh," Kitty said in a small voice.

"I'm trying to spare you the details, Kit. He's got some ugly fucking demons in him, and it'll be better if we get far away."

"Y-yeah. Of course."

"You sure you don't want me turning the truck around? Could get you back home before—"

"No!" Kitty said quickly. "I'll stay. Just— um. Why didn't you go to the police?"

"I did. He had connections. They fucking delivered me back to him." She slumped back into her seat. “Let’s get out of here. Not safe to stay in one place too long. We’re risking enough with a motel stay.”

Not that she had any intention of staying at the one that Tim had suggested. It was just a red herring, something to hopefully draw attention if Tim was compromised while she found somewhere to stay an hour or two’s drive away.

She finally decided on one as the sun started setting, pulling into a half empty gravel lot. The place was dated, but that was fine. It didn’t need to be perfect. Just needed a door that locked and a bed with clean sheets.

The front desk was run by a bored looking girl in her late teens. She snapped her gum while she booked Morgan in on the ancient computer. She didn’t ask any questions, and she let Morgan pay cash, which was all she cared about.

She checked the room, paranoia winning over the more rational thought that she hadn’t known where they were staying until they got there, so John couldn’t have possibly set a trap for her, and Kitty hopped into the shower while Morgan flipped on the tv and scanned through channels listlessly.

— For a limited time only—

*— A community in chaos to— *

— Refreshing—

Wait. She flicked back to the news channel. A woman with a microphone standing in front of the smoking remains of a building, the unscathed sign at the edge of the parking lot reading Rosemary’s Diner. Red and blue flashing lights haloed her blonde hair, firefighters and police securing the area against the gathering crowd. “Crews are still recovering bodies from the ashes of this beloved local establishment. It is unclear what happened, or why none of the patrons were able to escape before the fire engulfed the building, but—”

Morgan’s head went fuzzy, her ears ringing as the noise from the tv scrambled as her brain tried to make sense of it. No on could escape because they were already dead. She’d killed them by walking into the place. This was her fault.

“Um, Morgan,” Kitty called from the bathroom. “There’s no towels.”

Morgan grimaced. She didn’t want them to separate for an instant. “I’ll go to the front desk and get some. Keep that door locked.”

The night time air was quiet and cool. She locked the door behind her— The place was so old that it had keys rather than cards. She wasn’t sure if that was a comfort or a liability. She was too rattled to think it over.

This shouldn’t have shaken her so much. She knew who John was. She knew how dangerous, how depraved he was. It just felt so… Unnecessary. Maybe it was just a message to her. That everywhere she went she’d endanger innocent people.

Morgan pushed the door open and walked into the front office of the motel, blinking in the bright fluorescent lights, frowning at the lack of sound. Hadn’t there been a bell over the door? The bored looking teen who had been there earlier was nowhere to be seen, and the scent of blood in the air hit her as she breathed in, thick, coppery, cloying. There was the bell, lying on the floor next to an expanding pool of red trickling out from behind the desk. This had just happened. Which meant--

"Hi, bonnie."

Morgan whirled around to face Soap, grimacing. He was the only one of John’s boys she'd met before, and she wished she hadn't. He’d been babysitting her when she’d escaped. He’d be eager to hand her back over to John and gain forgiveness for losing her in the first place. He wiped the bloody blade of his knife off on his shirt, blue eyes fixed on her, teeth bared in a feral sort of grin.

She grabbed the computer monitor off the desk and threw it at him, grabbing out a gun. Someone behind her grabbed her hand and yanked her hand up, sending her shot wild, shattering the window rather than blowing through Soap’s head like she intended. She yelped when another hand grabbed her ponytail and yanked her head backwards.

“Hey there, sugar.” That was one of the men from the mountain town gas station, the baseball hat one, if the sliver of blue in the upper periphery was any indication. Gaz, probably. He didn’t feel like a Ghost. “Why don’t you drop that gun?”

Morgan grabbed for her other gun, only just clearing the holster by the time Soap was on her, pinning her arm to her chest and leaning close, so that she was pressed tightly between their bodies.

Soap traced his thumb down her throat, fingers curled around her neck like he was dreaming of throttling the life out of her. He probably was. “No’ verrah sportin’ of ye, Morgan. Bringin’ guns to a knife fight.”

“You brought a friend, seems fair to me.”

“Ye would. Tricky little thing. Dinnae ken what Price sees in ye.”

“No?” Gaz pried the gun out of her hand and stowed it somewhere, his now freed hand coming around to cup her breast, lips trailing over her ear. “I can see a few things that he’d like.”

“Weel. There is tha’.”

Morgan kneed him hard, nailing him right above the knee. The angle wasn’t good for generating as much power as she would have liked, but it was effective enough.

He swore and yanked the other gun out of her hand, jamming it up under her chin. “Should jest kill ye now,” he growled. “Yer nothin’ but trouble.”

“You’re just upset because I lied about wanting to play with you,” she taunted. He’d let her out of the cage in the cellar, and wound up locked in there himself. “How long were you stuck in there, Soap? Did John let you out when he got home, or did he leave you in there a little longer to make sure puppy learned his lesson?”

“Mouthy for a brat with a gun to her head,” Gaz said, yanking on her hair again. “Should be beggin’ for forgiveness.”

“Pull the fucking trigger, you coward,” Morgan spat. “I’m not going to beg for my life. Just fucking kill me. Should be easy. You killed all those people at the diner.” She carefully reached for the knife on Soap’s belt, doing her best not to move too much. So long as they were paying more attention to her mouth, she could get it. “Fucking losers, picking off a bunch of seniors. You lose your nerve when you’ve got a fair fight on your hands? Can’t even take me without backup, huh Soap?”

His hold on her other wrist tightened, enough to make her bones creak. She tried not to grimace, but he saw the wince in her eyes, satisfaction flitting through his baby-blues. “Price said one piece, but he didna say I couldnae break a few fingers.”

“Soap,” Gaz said warningly. “Come on. Let’s just get her out of here.”

Soap lowered the gun. Morgan ripped the knife off his belt and stabbed it into Gaz’s leg, gripping tight so she wouldn’t lose it when he jerked back, letting go of her hair in surprise.

“Shit, get back here you little—” Gaz tried to grab her again, so she turned and slashed at him, cutting a thin slice through his shirt.

Soap grabbed her from behind, so she let him take her weight as she kicked Gaz hard in the gut, knocking all the air out of him. Morgan smashed her head back into Soap’s face as she lowered her legs, only stumbling a little when he let go to cradle his nose, blood pouring from between his fingers. She grabbed his shoulders and kneed him hard in the groin for good measure, shoving him to the ground.

She ran outside. The air reeked of gasoline, the signature cover for their sins. They'd burn the place down on the way out. She ran back to the room. The door was open, hanging off it's hinges, the darkness beyond yawning like an open mouth.

"Kitty?" she called out, stepping inside. She already knew she wouldn't be there. Or if she was…

Only silence. Kitty's bag was gone off the bed, but hers was still there. She grabbed it, nearly sobbing when she found it open, her rifle gone. No guns, no Kitty, just her and a couple of flimsy knives against John and his dogs.

"Lookin' for this, honey?" John melted out of the shadows by the door. It should have been impossible for a man as big as him to be so quiet, so invisible. He held her rifle loosely in his big hands, not even bothering to point it at her. He was entirely at ease, shoulders relaxed, head tipped slightly to the side as he looked at her, eyes glittering in the low light.

Morgan gripped her stolen knife tighter. "Where's Kitty?"

“Ghost has her. Put the knife down, sweetheart. Somethin’ happens to me, he’s gonna snap her pretty neck. Be easy too, little thing like her.” He took a step forward. “It’s time to come home. Nothing left for you out here.”

Morgan backed up a step. He was between her and the door. There were no other exits. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He had her cornered, defenceless, beaten again.

“Come on,” he said, holding out one hand, taking another slow step, like she was a wild animal he was trying to coax into domestication. That was probably how he saw her. “We don’t need to fight anymore, do we? I’ve missed you.”

“Have you?” she asked, acid roiling in her belly. “You were there that whole time— Six months! You knew! Why didn’t you just— Why’d you let me think I’d gotten away?”

Another step. “I was going to come get you early on, but I overheard Kitty talkin’ to one of the other girls at the diner about you. How you’d helped her fix her car up, how sweet you were, how smart, how strong. Poor girl was half in love with you before you’d been there a month. And I thought to myself, maybe that’s what a wild thing like you needs. A good girl to show you how to behave.”

He’d let her get close to Kitty just so he could use the poor girl against her. She’d tried to keep Kitty away, but she just kept coming back. A nudge from a well meaning regular might have convinced Kitty to ignore Morgan’s prickles, and that string of car troubles… Easily engineered by someone who knew enough about engines to make it look like it wasn’t sabotage. She’d been so so stupid. Should have just collected what she needed and moved on when she first got to Montana.

John tossed the gun onto the bed to free up his other hand as he moved past it. Morgan wondered if she could get past him, grab the gun, kill him, but—

“You ready to go, boss?” Gaz asked, his shadow filling the doorway.

John turned, carelessly turning his back on Morgan for a moment. She could jam her knife into his neck, grab the gun before John hit the ground, shoot Gaz— But Soap and Ghost were still out there somewhere, and they could hurt Kitty. Without John holding Soap’s leash, the maniac would do a lot worse than just kill them too.

“We’ll be along in a moment. Take her things.” He nodded toward the bed, then chuckled as Gaz limped over. One of his pant legs was dark with blood, a strip of fabric tied around where she’d stabbed him to put some pressure on the wound. “She got you, huh?”

“Got Soap too. Broke his nose.”

John shook his head. “Told you not to underestimate her.”

Gaz shouldered the bag and picked up the rifle. “You’re the one with your back turned to her.”

“She knows better than to try it. Isn’t that right? You’re ready to be good, aren’t you?” He turned back toward Morgan, a smug smile tugging on his lips. “You can start by giving me the knife, princess.”

She stared at his open palm, extended trustingly toward her, like he knew she wouldn’t bite back now. She hated him. Wanted nothing more than sink the blade into his hand, into any soft bit of skin she could reach. She wanted to be free of him more than she wanted to continue breathing.

But they had Kitty.

It felt like driving the final nail into her own coffin, sealing her fate, but she she dropped the knife into his hand, shaking with rage. “I hate you,” she hissed, the scratchy whisper all she could force out from a locked up throat.

He tucked the knife into his belt and closed the remaining space between them, tipping her face up so she couldn’t avoid those piercing blue eyes. “Oh sweetheart, you know that’s not true. If you’ll just be good, we can be happy. You just have to stop fighting me, hm? For Kitty’s sake.”

“Just— Just let her go. Please. I’ll be good.”

“Of course you will.” He thumbed across her cheek, wiping away tears she was desperately trying not to shed. “But I’m keeping you both.” He kissed her forehead, moustache prickling against her skin, and released her.

Morgan stood where she was for a long moment, feet rooted to the faded, stained motel carpet, as John walked away. Usually, he’d cuff her and cart her off, growling admonishments all the way home.

He looked back from the doorway, realizing that she wasn’t following. And of course, he wanted her to come of her own accord, to bow her head and admit defeat and follow him like a dog. He wanted her to choose to be with him.

“Come on, pet. It’s time to go home.”

Haltingly, she willed her feet to move, and she followed him.

Image Credit - Dividers by @/CafeKitsune

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Siphon and Keeping House by Syoddeye

Gentle Chokeholds by CharlieMWrites

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Please mind the warnings on each of the fics above, the warnings and intensities do vary a lot!

Thanks for Reading!

[splendsay]

COD FF // Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 41: Picture in a Frame

HEY SO YEAH sorry it's a lil late I got writer's block out the ass

love u mean it

pls enjoy

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Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 41: Picture in a Frame

Rating: 18+ !!MDNI!! Chapters: 41/? WC: 109,583 Pairing(s): TF141 x F!Reader (You) Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, mature (sexual) content Chapter Excerpt (🚨spoilers!!🚨):

You spend most of the rest of the morning nursing your single cup of coffee and begging Gaz to make you something heavily salted and carbohydrate-dense. He obliges, but not without some good-natured ribbing, eventually setting a plate full of steaming potato wedges down in front of you. 

"Some chips should help, you lush" he coos, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. 

You're so grateful, you don't even bother sticking your tongue out in answer, you just shovel a handful in your mouth and release an appreciative moan. He chuckles and ruffles your hair before turning to wipe down the counter behind him. 

Maybe it's psychological, but you instantly feel better, and your headache is almost gone now, thanks to the aspirin. Gaz is such a good little den mother. You tell him as much and he replies with an unappreciative gesture, eliciting a few huffs of laughter from either side of you -- Soap and Simon.

Most everyone else has left, off to make arrangements for the company's departure. Pull transportable resources, contact folks on the ground in and around Boston, find someone to fly the whole group over there...Cap had a whole list of to-dos. 

 Soap reaches across you and takes a fry, holding it between his index finger and thumb as though it might sting him, delicately nibbling at one end. He looks a little better after hurling a few times, but he's still pretty green. 

"I'm surprised at you, Soapy," you tease. 

He glances at you, chewing his little bite slowly. He doesn't open his eyes fully, like the light is still hurting him. You know Gaz slipped him some drugs too, so his headache must be worlds worse than yours. "Why's that, love?"

You tilt your head.

"I'd've thought a man with such expensive taste in whisky would have a better tolerance."

He scowls. Gestures at you with a tiny wand of potato. "Oi -- vodka is a different beast altogether, lass. 'Specially whatever shite you fed us last night." He pales a little at the memory and takes another, even smaller bite.

You nod somewhat grimly and pop another fry into your mouth. "It was shite, I'll give you that."

"You two are pathetic," Simon murmurs, lifting his mask just enough to slurp his coffee. You don't miss the slight upturned curve of his lips.

One of your elbows reflexively finds its way into his ribs, but he catches it before you can do any real damage. You squeak in protest, snatching your arm back, not missing how his eyes twinkle with mischief. Your belly flutters lightly -- not unpleasant or liquor-driven. Delicate. Happy. You give him a little wink.

Gaz turns halfway from the sink, brows raised. "You got these two to drink vodka?"

You shrug and brush salt off your fingertips. "What can I say? Putty in my hands."

Simon and Soap make synchronized noises of incredulity. 

Gaz turns on the faucet and shakes his head, chortling to himself. 

You glance from side to side, grabbing another fry. "What? Am I wrong?"

"Careful, darling," Simon murmurs, sending a bolt of lightning through your core. 

Soap lets out a strangled groan and leans over his lap, panting like a dog. 

"Not on the floor, Soap, please," Gaz whines. 

"How the hell are you not hungover?" you ask, turning to face Simon more directly, only partly because you really, really don't want to see Soap yack. 

"Who says I'm not?"

You frown, a protest on your lips, when Cap swoops back into the room.

"What are you lot complaining about now?" he asks, rubbing his hands together like he's plotting something. His gaze snags on Soap, but he doesn't slow down as he walks straight up to the other side of Simon, eyeing the four of you. He plucks his hat off his head and grips it in one hand, bracing the other against the island.

"Nothing, Cap."

He snorts and snags a fry. "Somehow I doubt that. Good as always, Gaz."

"Thank you, sir," Gaz replies, holding a small bucket out at arm's length, offering it to Soap, who snatches it without looking up. 

"What's the progress so far?" Simon asks.

Cap makes a disgruntled noise. "Waiting on some call backs. Keller's got some people on the ground in Pennsylvania. I've got some friends in New York. Otherwise it's quiet out there. No comms from major orgs, not since Kate and Sunny were taken."

Your heart sinks a little. You hadn't expected much, but...you'd hoped. 

Maybe you should stop doing that. Hoping.

No, you chide yourself. Don't be silly. You have an entire crew here willing to travel across the ocean with you. If nothing else, that's remarkable on its own.

You just had to get there...if Cap could just get you there...you could figure out the rest. You could. You would.

"Just so you know," Cap says, eyes landing on you. "This is going to be a hell of an operation."

You lift your chin a little. "I know."

"I don't want you to worry. We'll manage."

"Can I help?" you ask. Your voice sounds kind of small.

"No, no," he shakes his head. "I don't think there's anything for you to do, love. Just -- try not to worry."

"You keep saying that."

"Yes, well, I mean it."

"No offense, Cap, but it's sort of having the opposite of your intended effect."

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Right. Well. In that case, since I've sufficiently bungled this conversation, maybe I'll just go. Calls to make, what have you."

"But...you just walked in."

"And now I'm walking out."

And he does, taking his hat with him, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. The four of you exchange a look. Soap's nausea must've subsided because he's upright again, bucket in his lap.

"That was weird," he mutters. 

"Yeah...it was," you agree. 

..................................................................... Links to: Spotify Playlist Full Fic

[she-wolf09231982]

Joe Liebgott

“Show me?”

This one shot dedicated to this request ⬇️ Hope you enjoy it! 🪖 ♠️ 🦅❤️

Summary: It wasn’t a walk in the park being Easy Company’s medic…Especially when you got it bad for one of them.

A/N: One shot, Mature audience, JoeLiebgott!FemMedic, WW2, Female Pronouns, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Inappropriate Nicknames, Drinking/Alcohol, HBO Band of Brothers References, Smoking, Smut, FOREVER FLUFF

~~~~~~~~

Carentan 1944

The room was loud and filled with smoke. You can barely hear yourself think when the bartender asked what you’ll have.

“I’ll take a pint.” You reply loudly over the chatter of Easy, Fox, and Dog Company soldiers.

While you wait, you feel someone abruptly bump into you trying to slip into an opening at the bar to order.

“Hey, buddy! I’ll take three beers over here!” The voice behind you rang out.

You look over your shoulder irritably and catch a glimpse of one of your guys from Easy Company.

“Jeez, Liebgott, think you can get any closer?” You ask sarcastically.

Joe Liebgott, one of the toughest, most loyal, and loudest soldiers you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting since the war started.

He looked down at you, “Hey, look who it is! My favorite little medic!” He identified avidly.

You shook your head, “You’re sauced, Joe, do you think you should have anymore?”

“Sauced? Yeah right!” He dismissed, “I’m fine. Besides, these are the last ones. The place is gonna close soon.”

“Hm, I see.” You reply unconvinced.

As the bartender placed four glasses of beer in front of you and Liebgott, the dance floor started to thin out as the voice of Ella Fitzgerald “I Fell In Love With A Dream” suspended through the air. Liebgott looked across the room at the table where Easy Company was.

“Hey, Malark! Can you grab these?” He called out. He looked back at you, “I’m gonna take this doll around the floor.”

“Sure thing, Joe!” Don called back.

You look at him alarmed, “What ‘doll’ are you taking around the floor?”

The lights in the room began to dim.

Liebgott laughed, “You.”

Before you could protest, he grabbed your hand twirled you around pulling you into him so close, there was little room to breathe. Liebgott held you against him, his hand firmly against the small of your back. The boys of Easy whooped and cheered at you and Joe from the table, increasing your embarrassment and causing your ears to go red.

Liebgott smiled at you, “What’s the matter, doll?”

“Joseph Liebgott, you know I don’t like bringing attention to myself.” You whisper angrily to him.

“Well, I want everyone paying attention.”

“Why?”

Before you could blink, Joe’s lips crashed onto yours, leaving you stunned. His hand slid to the curve of your rear, pushing your hips against his growing bulge. You were breathless from his kiss, melting in his arms as the room became steadily warm.

The room spins as your knees begin to buckle. Joe’s lips separated from yours as he held you steady on your feet.

Liebgott chuckled, “Woah, you good, doll?”

“I-I think so.” You squeaked.

You look dreamily into his honeyed brown eyes. Joe’s signature mischievous smirk appeared.

“Wanna get outta here?” He asked.

All you could do was nod repeatedly. He sashayed you across the dance floor towards the door before the lights turned on.

~~~~~~~~

You run hand in hand with Liebgott down the street to the abandoned apartment building where all the American soldiers were bunking. You both push through the door, and before you could reach the stairs, Liebgott pulled you back into him to kiss you. You wanted to playfully push him away, but your body betrayed you as you lean into his body, fisting his uniform jacket to pull him as close as possible to you.

You part your lips, letting his tongue to pass and taste yours. You vivaciously nip at his bottom lip eliciting a deep guttural groan from him. His hands explore your body as his hips instinctively pushed his hard on against you. You dig your nails into his shoulders as you moan into his mouth.

You gently push him away.

“Let’s go upstairs.” You suggest pulling him by the hand up the staircase.

Neither of you can contain your smiles as you throw the door open dragging Liebgott into the room with you. After he slammed the door shut, he whirled you around, pinning you between him and the door with a gentle thud.

He angled himself close towards you, his mouth hovering over yours as you breathe eachother’s breath. You feel all the air leave your lungs as he inhales you, his fingers slowly snaking around your neck.

He looked into your eyes, his stare piercing your soul and sending your stomach aflutter.

“Do you know how much damage we can do to each other in an hour?” He growled.

Your eyes widened while you clenched your thighs together.

“Show me?” You whispered.

His devilish grin returned, “What do we say when we ask for something, doll?”

You smile coyly, “…Please?” You breathe.

He looks from your eyes to your mouth as a smirk tugs at the corner of his. He scooped you up from behind your thighs wrapping your legs around his waist and carried you over to the bed, dropping you on your back onto the mattress. You look up at him through your lashes and smile as you start to work on removing his pants. He fisted the front of your blouse with both hands and yanked it off your shoulders.

Both of your remaining clothes are hastily removed and thrown into the dimly lit oblivion of the bedroom. He leaned forward over you, caging you between his arms while he locked his lips onto yours again, forcing you backward with the push of his kiss until you were flat on your back. He rested onto his elbows leaving most of his weight onto you. His knee slid between yours, pushing your legs apart. His strong hands groping your chest.

You flip Joe onto his back and straddle yourself on top of his aching dick. You grind into his swelling heat. The friction of his cock against your dripping entrance had you gushing wet.

He groaned, grasping and guiding your snake like movements against his dick making it throb and pulsate. He hissed pulling your face to his, your mouths clashed like lightening, one tongue exploring the other while you’re panting into each other's mouths.

You feel his cock settle between your slick folds sliding back and forth between, desperate to find your opening.

"Fuck…” He said under his breath as he closed his eyes from ecstasy.

"Please, Joe…” You whimpered into his ear.

He looked at you with hunger behind his eyes and without breaking eye contact, he uses his hand to direct the head of his cock into the opening of your slippery entrance. You whine as he slides right into you with little resistance. He closed his eyes and snarled when he bottomed out.

You grind into his thrusts, both of you gasping and growling at each other. He flipped you over onto your back and begins railing into you, sending shock waves through your entire nervous system.

Not taking his eyes off yours, he rocks harder and deeper into you, causing your breasts to bounce upwards each time his pelvis slams into you. He groped your tits with one hand while still gliding in and out of your wet cunt, causing him to growl. He was ravenous for you as he increased the intensity of his thrusts until you can hear the 'slaps' of his balls hitting your ass.

You smile devilishly at him as you rub on yourself with quick circles as you roll your hips into him. You whimper as you feel your edging orgasm. Your pussy dripping onto the comforter at this point as you clench yourself around him. He can feel you squeezing his cock intermittently, sensing your finish.

“That’s right, doll, let go for me.” Joe said in his gravely voice.

You roll your hips into his, reaching that perfect tilt that sent your walls fluttering around him. Your pussy tightened around his cock as you cry out in pure bliss.

“Fuck, Joe!”

Seeing your splurge waterfall down his shaft sent Joe over the edge as he released hot strings of spend in you, painting your insides as he fucked it into you.

As you both came down from cloud 9, you each take a moment to catch your breath before he rolled off to the side. He reached for the hand towel on the nightstand to clean you and himself up before pulling the covers over the both of you.

Joe pulled you into him, embracing you like a child holding a teddy bear.

“That…was incredible.” Joe finally managed to say.

“I would have to agree.” You giggled.

“We’re DEFINITELY doing that again.”

You chuckled as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck. You feel him kiss your forehead before you drift off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~

[pink-sparkly-witch]

The One That Got Away - Epilogue

Warnings: fluff

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

A/N: That’s all folks! Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did.😘💖 

You can catch up here!

 My Masterlist AO3    Ko-Fi

ONE YEAR LATER

Dean and Y/N carried various potluck side dishes into the backyard, placing them on the long wooden table Dean had made in his spare time to accommodate his growing family.

John and Bobby were manning the grill, and Sam was playing with Miracle, the big goofball dog Dean had rescued from a burning building where his owners had sadly perished.

Jody and Mary sat at the table in the sunshine with Jess across from them, sheltering under the parasol with baby Matthew.

When the little boy saw Y/N, he gave her a big toothy smile. He wasn’t even a year old yet and had the same Winchester charm his father, uncle and grandfather had. Y/N couldn’t refuse the grabby hands and little mewls demanding she takes him from his mother’s arms and into hers.

“Hey, buddy!” Y/N smiled as she lifted Matthew and placed him on her hip. Every day his baby babbles sounded more like actual words. Although she wasn’t as versed in Matthew’s baby language as his parents were, she listened to him intently and responded whenever there was a break in his storytelling.

Today’s gathering was a double celebration. Bobby was retiring as Fire Chief at Lawrence F.D. Dean had accepted the promotion into his role and would start as the new Chief at Firehouse 3 the following week. Y/N couldn’t be prouder of her boyfriend and wouldn’t deny that him not running head-first into fires ninety percent of the time would make her life much less stressful.

“He always settles so easily with you,” Jess smiled, and Y/N glanced down to see Matthew had fallen asleep on her shoulder.

“What can I say? Kids love me,” Y/N said, giggling as Dean bent to kiss her forehead, a soft smile curving his lips upwards. The look of utter adoration that shone in his green eyes was overwhelming, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

“Alright,” John called from the other side of the yard. “First batch of food is ready!”

“Here, let me take him so you can get something to eat. You must be starving after coming off a night shift and barely sleeping before entertaining all of us,” Jess said as she reached to take the sleeping baby from Y/N’s arms.

“It’s fine, Jess. I can survive another twenty minutes. Go, eat something hot for a change without burning your mouth!” Y/N grinned as Jess gave her a grateful smile.

Once everyone had their fill of food and relaxed with some drinks, Y/N and Jody began clearing dishes and putting away the leftovers before promising to bring more beer and another bottle of wine from the kitchen when they were finished.

“You look happy,” Jody smiled fondly.

“I am,” Y/N nodded, unable to hide her grin.

“Is he treating you right?” The older woman asked next.

“Not just right, Jody. He makes me feel safe and loved and wanted. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“Good. I’m happy for you, kiddo. You deserve all of it,” Jody hugged her tightly and added, “And if he puts a toe out of line, he is a dead man!” The women chuckled, and Jody pulled back slightly. “Come on, let’s get these drinks out there and join the celebrations.”

Jody placed a cooler filled with ice, beer and a bottle of wine onto the table, and Y/N gave out clean glasses and placed the corkscrew and bottle opener next to it. John and Sam passed out the drinks, and when no one was left empty-handed and had settled into conversation, Dean stood and gathered everyone’s attention.

“As I’m sure you all know, I’m not good with words and find it hard to talk about my feelings. Today, I’m putting that aside to celebrate a great mentor, a great Chief, and an even greater man. I’ve been in Bobby’s Firehouse since I was a cocky probie, and he quickly knocked that out of me completely! He taught me all I know, and that’s why stepping into his shoes isn’t as terrifying now as it was the first time Bobby told me that one day, I’d be sitting in his seat.

“So, cheers, Bobby! Thank you for having patience with me, for mentoring me and teaching me all I know, for seeing something in me that I couldn’t, and for treating me like family. In and out of the Firehouse.” Dean said, and cries of cheers, congratulations and clinking glasses rang through the backyard. He cleared his throat, letting them know he wasn’t finished yet.

“I know we’re here to celebrate Bobby’s retirement and my promotion, but I’m hoping we might have another reason to celebrate. It’s times like this that I wish I could be more articulate and find the right words to talk about how I feel and the million things I really want to say… need to say. And I promise to try, but for now, the only words I have are the most important ones… Y/N,” Dean’s voice cracked as he got down on one knee before her and pulled out a little velvet box. “Will you marry me?”

Y/N’s hand flew to her mouth in shock, and tears flooded her eyes. This was all she’d ever wanted. All she’d dreamed about. A second chance with the one that got away.

“Yes!” she answered, a shriek of laughter coming straight after as Dean lifted her, held her in his strong embrace, and spun her around.

THE END

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

[feingrah]

Hello! I've got a little request if you wouldn't mind doing it. Would you be willing to do the "Guard Dog/Master" trope with Ghost and Reader? Would love to see some possessive Ghost with him being all big and intimidating. Thanks and I hope this finds you well :)

TW: This might have spelling mistakes.

cw: Bl, degradation phrase, smut?, angst? Comment if I forgot sth.

Everybody knew ghost as your so called ‘Bodyguard’. Well he wasn’t quite literally your bodyguard, but acted like one. Possesive of you, overprotective of you, like you were his. Like he owned you. He would follow you around, making sure you were safe. Whenever somebody tried talking to you, he would scare them off by his frightening stare. Ofcourse it was frightening, he was a buff 6’3 soldier after all.

After a long, but successful Mission, the base decided to celebrate their success.

You found yourself in a pub with your boyfriend Ghost, and his teammates. Your choice of clothes made some of the men turn their head to you when you were walking, looking you up and down. That didn’t go unnoticed by Ghost. He gritted his teeth, sighing as he crossed his arms and kept following you, keeping a close eye on your surroundings. As much as he wanted to show everybody you were his, he didn’t want to make a scene infront of everyone.

You stopped in a corner, leaning up against the wall as Ghost stood next to you.

“Darling, would you like some drinks?”, he asked you, softly. Despite his calm and soft voice, you could tell the way those men were gawking at you pisses him off.

You nod your head hesitantly, leaning in closer and kissing his cheek gently to soothe his worries. The lieutenant sigh in response and the corner of his lips curved into a small smile, which is quickly covered by his stoic and blank expression under his balaclava. He nodded back at you and turned away, walking into the crowd of people to get you a drink, you losing sight of him.

There were quite some men gawking at you, but one was staring too openly. He didn’t seem to notice that you had a boyfriend. He probably noticed me after Simon left, you thought to yourself.

Leaning up against the wall, just chilling and looking around curiously until that man decides to approach you. The way he carries himself screams arrogant and ignorant. You tried not to make a grimace, and just put on a smile.

“Hey gorgeous, you here alone?” he asks charmingly. It would be charming for others, but not for you since you weren’t interested at all.

You smiled politely, looking up at him and you were about to answer when Ghost suddenly appeared behind him. “You got problems with my partner, seargant?” he asks the guy coldly, cocking an eyebrow at him.

In response to that, he doesn’t cower or back away. He just smirks “Seems like your little one is quite interested in me. Would look out if I were you, lieutenant.” he remarks, grinning.

Your eyes widen, your eyebrows raising up as you stare at the idiot in disbelief at his words. Your gaze returns to Ghost, who gives you a full on glare to keep your mouth shut. You sigh and lower your head in response.

“I’m pretty sure my ‘little one’ isn’t at all interested in you, sergeant.” Ghost sighs, looking back at the man coldly as he has his arms crossed infront of his chest.

The guy cocks an eyebrow at him, smirking and snickering. “You some sort of guard dog? The big ol’ lieutenant a guard dog, hahahaa!” He mocked.

Ghost gritted his teeth in response. God how badly he wanted to punch this guy in the face, but he won’t make a scene. It’s not worth it. “You have a minute to leave, sergeant. You know better.” he threatens.

It makes the man sigh in defeat, letting it go. It wasn’t worth it, was it? He walked away into the distance, leaving you and Ghost alone.

You kept your head lowered, voiding Ghosts intense gaze. You knew you were in trouble, but God, the way he glared at you made all your blood rush downwards.

Now you were standing there, your head lowered in submission with your cock twitching against your pants.

Ghost loomed over you, pinning you against the wall “look at me, dear.” he commanded, his voice rough despite his words being sweet. You hesitantly looked up at him through your lashes, breathing quite heavily.

“What were you thinking?” Ghost asked suddenly, raising an eyebrow at you. Your arousal didn’t go unnoticed by him, but he decided not to speak up about it.

“I- um..I-…” you stammer, your face flushed as you looked up at him with pleading puppy eyes. Pleading for only God knows what.

“Relax love, you’re not in trouble.” he sighs, cupping your cheek in his hand. “Not yet.” he added, his eyes narrowing.

“I wasn’t thinking..” you admit, breathing heavily and getting more aroused the longer he stares at you.

“God, one look is all it takes from me and you’re already panting like a damn dog.” Ghost looked at you intensely, taking your hand in his. “Why don’t we go back to our hotel room, my love?” he whispers softly into your ear. “I will remind you who you really belong to.” he added, seemingly still mad.

This was gonna be a long night.

[channiesbedroom]

Pancakes for Breakfast | bc

I spend my entire life thinking about what Chan would be like as a Dad so have this little oneshot of cuddly appa Chan !!

- Dad!Bangchan x Reader - No warnings, just pure sweet fluff

“Appa! Appa! Appa! Appa!” Chan turned to face you, half of his head hidden under the duvet. You snort, unable to contain your laughter as he gives you his best impression of puppy-dog eyes. Your daughter continues to shout from her bedroom – “Appa! Come here!”.

“Darling, you’re not Seungmin. The puppy eyes don’t work on me. Go and get your child.” With a huff, he throws the duvet off, sliding out of bed and slowly tucking his feet into his slippers.

“Our child.” He mumbles as he stumbles out of the room, still half asleep. You let yourself lie back on the plush pillows, easily dropping back off to sleep as the shouting stops, and your 2-year-olds voice becomes softer, clearly happy that her Appa has come to get her out of her crib. It feels like you’ve barely gone back to sleep before a weight appears on your stomach.

“Mama, mama, mama.” A tiny voice whispers directly into your ear. “Mama needs to wake up for breaky.” You open your eyes tentatively, finding yourself face to face with Sarang, your daughter. She’s lying on top of you, with her face mere inches from yours.

“Good morning my baby.” Her face scrunches and she huffs. “What’s that face for?” You giggle.

“I’m not a baby, Mama. I’m a big girl.” You wrap your arms around her tiny body and squeeze her, struggling to lift yourself up with her weight still lying on you.

“The biggest girl. Shall we go and see Appa?” She nods frantically, wriggling until she’s out of your arms, sprinting down to the kitchen. Chan is standing at the kitchen counter, a stack of pancakes and a punnet of strawberries in the middle of the table.

“Ta-da! Mama, Appa made us pamcakes!”

“Pancakes, sweetheart. Not pamcakes.” Chan laughs. She clings to his leg, nuzzling her head against his flannel pyjama bottoms. You try to slyly take your phone out of your pocket, hoping to capture a picture of the sweet moment, but Sarang notices immediately, letting go of Chan and pulling her face into a huge smile, tiny hands trying their best to form a peace sign.

“Bang Sarang, you are such a poser.” Chan lifts her up under the armpits and sits her on his hip, pulling the same face, and holding the peace sign slightly more effectively.

“Just like Appa, hey?” He’s grinning from ear to ear. You love seeing Chan like this. You were young when you unexpectedly got pregnant with Sarang, and you never expected anything from him, but he was the perfect father to your little girl. He had to spend so much time working and travelling, but he always made an incredible effort to spend time with her, facetiming her every single day that he was away. He was the perfect boyfriend too, despite the crazy late nights, after which he’d creep into bed, trying not to wake you. Being in a relationship with an idol was hard – despite you having been in a relationship since you were teenagers, you’ve had to keep it secret from nearly everyone. Only your direct family – your parents and siblings, and of course his family, know all the details. You’ll never forget the emergency meeting you had to attend with JYP only a few days after you saw those 2 lines, where you had to sign a special contract about keeping your secret.

You look back to your 2 favourite people, who by now are sitting at the table, scoffing pancakes faster than you could imagine. You are constantly impressed by Sarang’s ability to eat just as fast as her father.

“Mama! Eat your pamcakes, they’ll get cold!” Her bossiness, however, she definitely got from you. She looks at Chan, tiny arms crossed, and her brow curved into a frown. She slips into Korean easily, telling him that he needs to scold you so that you’ll eat faster. Chan laughs.

“Sarang, you can tell your mama that yourself!” You’re laughing with him. Your Korean still isn’t perfect, despite years of practice, so Chan is the parent who speaks Korean with Sarang, whilst you always speak to her in English. She hasn’t yet realised that you can still understand almost everything she says, despite struggling to reply in the same language.

“I’m eating them! I promise!” Her furrowed brow relaxes a bit as she climbs up the side of Chan’s chair and perches herself in his lap, leaning against his chest and trying her best to wrap her arms around him.

“What do you want to do today baby?” You turn to look at Chan, trying to work out whether he’s speaking to you or your daughter, as he has the unfortunate habit of using the same pet names for both of you. His eyes are firmly fixed on Sarang’s face, his hands looking huge as he holds her steady. “Aquarium?” She jumps up immediately. Sarang loves aquariums and has done since she was a baby. You scoff slightly.

“Babe, I can’t really take her there today.” You don’t want to let her down, but no-one knows that Chan has a child, so he’s never been able to take her out unless you’ve privately booked. You know for sure that you haven’t booked to visit her favourite aquarium.

“About that.” He looks up at you, your heart immediately melting at his soft smile. “I spoke to JYP yesterday. And it’s ok.” You’re confused. What’s ok? You reply with a questioning hum and a tilt of your head.

“The big reveal. Your choice how we do it, we can announce something on social media, or we can just start subtly being seen together, y’know.” You can tell he’s nervous as he talks, but he has no reason to be. You jump out of your seat and almost run to be next to him.

“Are you serious? We’re actually allowed to leave the house together?” You have tears in your eyes, and you can see that tears are starting to form in Chan’s eyes too. Sarang, in contrast, doesn’t seem to have any idea what a big deal this is.

“Yes, my love. We can basically do whatever we want. They recommend that I call one of the managers to come with us if we’re going out in public, but officially, we’re fine.” He stands, Sarang settled on his hip, and uses his spare arm to wrap around your shoulders, squeezing you tight.

“Well, baby.” You wipe your tears and stroke Sarang’s hair, unable to hold back your grin. “Let’s go to the aquarium.”

“I’m not a baby!” She screeches. You and Chan reply in unison. “You’re a big girl!”

[dantakeyoman]

𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 | 𝐣. 𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞

♡ 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

♡ *𝒐𝒉, (𝒚/𝒏)? 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒕, 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏, 𝒕𝒐𝒐. 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒅𝒐𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒆𝒓. …𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉. *

♡ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬, 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐲, 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐬, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.

♡ * 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒚 - 𝒑𝒐𝒗: 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 *

𝐓𝐖𝐎

"Look who's graced me with his presence," you sighed, a small smirk playing on your lips as Dally hopped the hand-rail to the Nightly Double, obviously not paying.

"How ya doin', Nails?" He smiled, sitting down in the empty aisle seat next to you.

"Peachy...'til you got here," you teased, "Slide me a cancer stick."

He sighed, rummaging in his pockets for a moment before pulling out a single one, handing it to you, "You better smoke it good, that's my last one."

"Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on," you rolled your eyes, kicking up your feet and whipping out your bright, red lighter.

A gift Johnny gave you for your thirteenth birthday.

You placed the cigarette in your mouth, checking out the scar on your lip through the reflection of the trigger.

It had been two months since you got jumped by the Socs, your encounter leaving you with a faint scar on the right side of your lip, stretching from right under your nose to right under the curve of your bottom lip.

And, unsurprisingly, things between the Socs and the Greasers had gone tremendously bad.

There was a fight nearly every other day, and despite the No Jazz rule you and Darry had tried to put into effect, the Socs were just making it too hard to keep a cool head.

Fightin' words, slashing tires, jumping.

It really made you wonder who were the real hoods.

"Hey, (y/n/n)," Johnny greeted, walking up to the rail and hopping over it just like Dally did a minute ago.

You quietly gasped and dropped your lighter, nearly inhaling your cig and setting yourself on fire in the process.

You squeaked and scrambled to pick it up, Dal letting out an obnoxious laugh as Johnny quickly rushed over to you, patting you on the back to clear up your coughing fit.

"You alright?! What happened?" He asked, concerned as he took his seat next to you.

You sat up, turning to Dally and shooting him a sharp glare, him returning it with his very punchable smirk.

"Sorry, Johnnycake. You just startled me is all," you cleared your throat, rummaging in your pocket and grabbing some change.

"S'all right if you could go to the stand and get me some water?"

"Sure," he nodded, taking the money and standing up, walking over to the concession stand to wait in line.

Once you were sure he was out of earshot, you let Dally have it.

"Bastard! What the hell?! You didn't tell me Johnny was coming!" You whisper-yelled, smacking the man in the arm.

"Cool it, would ya. You two need this," he scoffed, your attacks not even phasing him.

"I'm sick of all the puppy dog eyes and the blushin' and shit. Everyone and their mother knows that you two like each other."

You flushed with embarrassment, slightly taken aback.

'That couldn't be true, right?'

You and Johnny went back to the sandbox, and for as long as you can remember you've felt some type of way about him.

The way his hair fell in his face, the way certain things would bring a small sparkle to his brown eyes, the way you could catch hints of his true smile if you were paying attention.

The way the two of you could talk about nothing and yet everything when you where alone.

Of course, you firmly believed that all of these feelings were one sided.

"The stupid excuses like I gotta go to the DX or I was gonna meet up wit' Pony is not gonna get you two outta this, so here's how it's gonna go."

He quickly turned around to make sure Johnny was anywhere near, but the poor boy was still at the very back of the large line.

"When Johnny comes back with your water, I'm gonna go get some popcorn and never come back, leavin' you two alone to start to get to business. You guys'll talk, do all the little sappy shit, and then right in the middle of his sentence, you're gonna grab 'im by his collar and kiss 'im. Boom. Match made."

You were gagged

'This guy's got jokes.'

"What happened? You turn into a comedian since the last time I saw you?" You asked sarcastically, rolling your eyes and turning around to face the movie.

"I'm not doin' that shit."

"Aw, c'mon, Nails. Johnny's too chicken shit for this, it's gotta be you," he whined, throwing his head back in annoyance.

"Besides...me and Soda made a bet with Two that says we get two packs each if you break first."

"Ah hah! That's what this is all about. You don't want me and Johnny to get together, you just want a couple free cigs," you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief.

'Unbelievable.'

"Not entirely. I am tired of seein' you two make goo goo eyes at each other and not doin' nothin' about it. So if I get you two to cut it and a couple of free packs, o' course I'm gonna take advantage of the situation," he corrected, pausing his smoking to take a quick swig of beer.

"(y/n/n) and Johnny are gettin' together?!" Ponyboy exclaimed out of nowhere, hopping the rail and sitting down next to you.

"Will you shut up?!" You hissed, nervous that Johnny might've heard.

"Aw, what the hell are you doin' here?! You're messin' up the plan, Pone," Dally groaned, shooing away the boy with his hand.

"The plan? What plan?" Pony cocked a brow, confused.

"The one I discussed with the boys. I thought you were there, too?" Dal answered, scratching his head.

"Everyone else is in on this shit?!" You whipped your head around to Dally.

"Well, s'not my fault. Johnny was the one who asked me to come with 'im," Pony shrugged, turning to look at the movie.

"You'd think you two were attached at the hip," Dally sighed, turning around to get an update on Johnny's whereabouts.

"Doesn't matter now. The kid's walkin' back over,"

'Thank God.'

"Gotchu your water, (y/n/n)," Johnny stated, handing you the cup and your money back.

Dally stretched his arm over your shoulder and flicked Pony in the ear, getting him to move a seat over and allow Johnny to sit next to you again.

"Thanks, Johnnycake," you smiled, taking a sip and counting your change as the boy looked up at the screen to take away from the buzzing feeling in his stomach.

When you finished counting, you realized it was the exact amount of money you gave him.

"Wait, didya-." "I paid for it," he answered, already knowing your question, keeping his eyes trained on the screen.

"You ain't hafta do that, Johnny," you turned to him.

You were the one with the job. It was your responsibility to pay for your things.

"I know," he turned to you.

Your eyes met, and you looked at him through those thick lashes with those (e/c) eyes that sparkled in the projector light.

He swallowed thickly.

"S-S'least I could do. Wanted you to be all right."

You smiled, his heartbeat picking up twice as fast.

"I-." "What movie is this?" Pony asked, oblivious to the scene unfolding next to him.

Dally cursed under his breath, grumbling about how that boy was thicker than a brick.

That is, until a couple of Socs girls took the seats in front of you, and took his attention elsewhere.

"What's he grumblin' about?" Johnny asked in a low voice, turning to face the movie.

"I dunno. He's been weird tonight," you sighed, watching the movie as well. He nodded, his face turning confused when he saw someone get hit in the back with a baseball bat.

"Pone was onto somethin'. What is this movie?" He asked, nosed scrunched.

You chuckled, "Who knows. I think it's somethin' beachy."

He smiled, "Be nice to go to a beach one day...see the ocean."

"No kiddin'," you agreed, "I'd settle for anywhere outta Oklahoma."

"Forget Oklahoma. I'd settle for anywhere outta the neighborhood," he scoffed.

You sighed, resting your head on his shoulder, not noticing that the poor boy went stiff as a board at your touch.

"I could never do it, though. Don't got the guts," you dismissed.

Johnny was taken aback.

No guts? You had more guts than half the gang combined.

You'd toughed out situations that grown men'd never dream of.

No guts? "Whatchu talkin' about?" He asked, turning to look at you, confused. "You got a ton of guts, and you're plenty smart, too. If any of us is makin' it outta Oklahoma, it's you." "I'm not makin' it outta anywhere," you scoffed, looking up at him seriously. "I could never leave (b/n/n). I could never leave the gang."

You paused.

"I could never leave you, Johnnycake."

Johnny's stomach flipped so much, he nearly thought he'd flip, too.

It was as if you knew every little thing that could set him off, every little thing that had him at your beck and call like a lovesick puppy.

You had him wrapped around your finger, and he knew this, and had no problem with it.

"You guys are my family. No place'd be worth going without y'all."

He smiled, approvingly, turning to face the movie, "Thanks."

The two of you focused back on the screen, staying in comfortable silence as you watched the movie, Dally and the two Soc girls started to get a little loud.

You were about to say something, until you felt your entire body let out one violent shiver, remind you that you were outside with nothing but a tank top and jeans.

Your breath hitched, and you hoped Johnny didn't notice, slowly looking up to face him.

Only to see that he was already looking at you, disapprovingly.

"Why ain't chu wearin' a coat, (y/n/n)? S'freezin' out here," he asked, concerned, as he began shimmying off his jean jacket, trying not disturb your head.

"I'm fine, Johnny. I just came from the DX so I didn't have time to grab a coat for nothin'," you sighed, pushing his jacket back on.

"I'm not cold, promise."

"Warm people don't shiver," he cocked a brow. 

"Maybe that'll cool you off, Greaser! When you learn to talk and act decent, I might cool off, too!" The redheaded Soc girl suddenly shouted, splashing a drink all over Dally's face.

He had moved his seat from your row to hers, and had seemed to have been harassing her the entire time.

'Probably why those two were getting loud earlier. Fuckin' Dallas.'

"Fiery, huh? Just the way I like 'em," Dally smirked, grabbing her and pulling her close, much to her protest.

"Get off me!"

"Dally, leave 'er alone," you ordered firmly, sitting up off Johnny's shoulder.

But he ignored you, continuing touch and shove her around, a smile on his face.

"C'mon, Dal, you heard 'er. Leave 'er alone," Johnny chimed in, sitting up straight, too.

You were quietly shocked.

Johnny would never so much as stick a toe out in front of Dallas, let alone raise his voice at him.

He practically worshiped the ground he walked on.

"What'd you say?" Dally's smile fell, almost instantly, and he stopped his advances, turning to glare at Johnny.

"What'd you say to me, you little shit? What'd you say to me?"

"C'mon," Johnny sighed, his eyes pleading Dal to cool it.

And Dally picked up on this, sucking his teeth before roughly stuffing his hands in his pockets, standing up out the chair.

"Wise ass," he grumbled, walking up the ramp and out of the Nightly Double.

You, Johnny, and Pone, let out a sigh of relief you didn't even know you were holding, the three of you knowing good and well that you dodged a bullet.

"Now you blew it," Pony grumbled to the two of you, knowing that all you did was postpone Dally's blow out for later.

"Thank you. He had me scared to death," the redhead turned around, releasing her own sigh of relief.

"Sure didn't show it," Johnny shrugged, "Ain't nobody talk to Dal like that."

"Well, I saw you do. And her, too," she smiled.

That's when it hit you, "Hey, ain't you that cheerleader from school? Cherry?"

"My real name's Sherri, but my friends call me Cherry 'cause of my hair."

Yeah, you knew Cherry. 

Cherry, the cheerleader. Cherry, the Soc girl.

Cherry, Bob's girlfriend. Cherry, girlfriend of the guy that nearly knocked your lights out.

Yeah, you knew Cherry.

Call it childish but two months ain't a long time, and it's hard to forget with a permanent reminder plastered on your lip.

"Why don't y'all sit with us, so you can protect us?" Cherry's friend suggested with a smile.

The boys turned to each other, Pony giving Johnny a nod.

But Johnny turned to you, realizing that you were back to watching the movie, disengaging from the conversation before you said something you'd regret.

He noticed this, and knew he wanted to stay with you through it.

Not that he was gonna get up and move, anyway.

"Imma stay back here," he stated, sitting back into his seat, your head reclaiming its spot on his shoulder.

Pony shrugged, moving to sit next to Cherry and starting up some conversation with her.

"You think Dal's gonna be mad?" Johnny asked, tiredly resting his head on top of yours.

You waved it off, "Dally's drunk. Give 'im some time to cool off and he'll be alright."

Feeling another shiver coming, you nuzzled closer to the boy, kicking up your legs on his as you relished the warmth that his jacket provided.

He let out an easy sigh, before allowing his body to ease itself into you, both of you molding together as if you were puzzle pieces.

It was so comfy, you nearly fell asleep right there.

𝒋 𝒐 𝒉 𝒏 𝒏 𝒚 𝒄 𝒂 𝒌 𝒆

"God, I'm so dog-tired I could drop," you groaned, trying to rub the exhaustion off your face as the five of you walked home.

The boys agreed to walk the Soc girls back to theirs, and at first you were completely against it, opting to walk yourself home rather than help them.

But all Johnny had to do was flash you a quick smile and ask a sincere, "Please," and you were putty in his hand.

"Did you work another double again?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

You winced, "...Maybe, but that's only because they offered some extra cash if I stayed longer."

"You just did a double yesterday. And did a triple a day or so ago. I told you about takin' breaks, (y/n/n)," he scolded, though not really.

He could never be mad at you.

"I know, I know, but I jus-." "Now I remember," Cherry realized, turning away from her talk with Pony to face you.

"You're the greaser girl that works at the DX, right? That's where I know you from."

You cocked a brow at her description of you, the boys quietly wincing at the reminder.

No matter how long they talked, or how deep the conversation, you were still Grease, and they were still Soc.

Noticing the quiet, she caught herself, slightly embarrassed "Sorry.....force of habit."

Just then, the sound of moving gravel snapped you all out of conversation, and you turned around to see two mustangs pull up behind you.

'Damn. ...Them's some tuff cars.'

"Oh, they're coming! What're we gonna do?" The other girl, who you learned to be Marcia, nervously whispered to Cherry.

"Just act normal," she whispered back.

"Who're these clowns?" A familiar voice asked, stepping out of the car.

'You've gotta be kidding me.'

It was that Soc bastard, Bob.

"Johnny..." you whispered, uneasy

"I know," he sighed, resting his hand in his right pocket, the pocket where he always kept his blade.

"Cherry! What's goin' on?!" Bob exclaimed, storming over with another Soc boy.

"Just because we got a little drunk, doesn't mean-!" "A little?!" Cherry interrupted.

"You call reeling and passing out in the street a little?! Bob, I've told you before, I'm never going out with you when you're drinking, and I mean it!"

"That's no reason to go walking the streets with these bums," the other boy chimed.

'Bums?!'

"Who you callin' bums, pal!" You glared, pointing harshly at the boy.

"You!" He spat back.

"Randy!"

"(y/n/n)," Johnny warned lowly, getting more anxious by the second.

Your fire might've been what drew him to you at first, but one of these days it was going to get you killed.

"Listen, we got two more of us in the backseat," Randy whispered, getting up close and personal. 

You quickly picked up a beer bottle, smashing it against the fence and then tossing it to Pony, whipping out your own blade as well.

"Fuck the backseat!" You spat, pointing the tip of it at his throat.

"If you're lookin' for a fight-." "Hell, yeah, I'm lookin' for a fight!" You didn't back down.

"Let's go! Put the knife down!" 

"Let's go, then! C'mon!" 

"Put the knife down!"

"You got your guys, I got my knife, pal!" 

"Stop it! Just stop it!" Cherry shouted, stepping in between you two.

"We'll go with you. Just give us a minute."

"Why? We ain't scared of these bastards," you looked the two boys up and down, disgusted.

"I hate fights, all right. I hate 'em," she sighed, raking a nervous hand through her hair.

She walked over to Ponyboy, wishing him a quick goodbye, before her and Marcia hopped in the Socs car, driving off.

"Greaseball!" Bob shouted out the window, drunkenly.

"Fuck you!" You shouted back, roughly flipping off the car as Johnny threw an arm over your shoulder.

Quite literally being the only thing keeping you from chasing after them.

"C'mon, (y/n/n), let's go," Pony sighed, the three of you turning around to walk back home.

𝒋 𝒐 𝒉 𝒏 𝒏 𝒚 𝒄 𝒂 𝒌 𝒆

"I hate those damn Socs. Who do they think they are thinkin' they can talk to us like that?" You grumbled, curled into yourself as you lay down on a disposed couch.

Pony had gone back to the Curtis' house, no doubt getting chewed out for coming home so late.

And you and Johnny had decided to sleepover in the lot for the night, since neither of you wished to be home at the moment.

"And who are they to say that Cherry girl couldn't hang out with Pony."

Sure, you didn't exactly like her, but you could tell Pony did. And all you wanted for that boy was for him to be happy.

Lord knows he's been through enough already.

"S'cause we're greasers, (y/n/n)," Johnny sighed, finishing up the fire before standing up and dusting off his pants.

"He might've hurt her reputation or something, that's all. Don't worry about it."

He walked over to the couch, plopping himself down next to you and smiling at how quick you were to snuggle up under him.

Despite his jean jacket, you were still cooler than an ice cube, and he was still, surprisingly, very warm.

"I guess," you sighed, resting your head on his chest.

He paused for a moment, trying to come up with a way to bring your spirits up.

"Man, that was a tuff car, huh," he started, remembering how you were eyeing Bob's car just as much as he was.

"Mustangs...they're tuff."

You let out a tired exhale, appreciative of the gesture, but just not in the mood.

That is, until the sound of Johnny's parents started to ring in the lot.

They were arguing, way louder than usual.

To the point where most of the curses could be heard crystal clear, as if you were in the house with them.

You could feel Johnny's breath become heavy, and you looked up at him, his expression dropping by the second.

"I don't think I can take much more of this, (y/n/n)," he caved, raking a frantic hand through his hair.

"I'll...I'll kill myself or something. I don't know."

The second those words came out his mouth, you nearly went catatonic.

Johnny? Kill himself?

There was no way.

You couldn't even fathom what your life would be like without your best friend, your favorite guy.

Your one true love, and the subject of all your affection.

...

Or something Shakespearean like that.

"Johnny Cade, you will do no such thing, you hear me?" You ordered firmly, placing both your hands on his face and turning him to face you.

"No such thing."

"I gotta do somethin'," he cried, his face easing into your hands.

With a sigh, you laid back in the chair, bringing him with you, and letting him rest his head on your chest.

"It seems like there's gotta be a place without Greasers and Socs," he sniffled, nuzzling closer "Must be someplace...with just plain, ordinary people."

You nodded, gliding your hand through his hair carefully, "S'like that out in the country. Away from all the big towns."

Feeling him begin to relax already, you decided to continue.

"The people are friendly and the houses are few and far between. There's room to stretch your legs and night are quiet...real quiet. Not to mention the animals."

And you continued on just like that, until eventually, the two of you were lulled asleep, welcoming dreams of the paradise you described.

"I love you, (y/n/n)," Johnny muttered, half asleep and barely above a whisper.

But you were already out like a light, no memory of the boy's words at all.

𝒋 𝒐 𝒉 𝒏 𝒏 𝒚 𝒄 𝒂 𝒌 𝒆