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obsessivevoidkitten · 3 months ago

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The Invasion

Cat Man Alien Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader

CW: Painful noncon, reader gets smacked, biting, collaring, owner/pet, pet reader, reader tied up, reader is an idiot, alien invasion, shapeshifting, general yandere behavior

Word Count: 1.2k

(Popped into my head, finished at 2-3am this morning, hope you all like it. Please leave comments and consider tipping to support the senior's bake sale, I love you all <3)

Twiggy was a rescue. He had been brought into the animal shelter you worked at and was pretty injured. Once he was nursed back to health, you immediately adopted him.

He was a bit standoffish, even by cat standards, but he slowly seemed to tolerate you. Then, almost actually like you. It's like he would enjoy affection and then catch himself and hiss before running off.

Even though you made sure never to let him outside, he always seemed to get out anyway, mostly in the dead of night.

In an effort to discover just how he was escaping, you set up cameras. But they always ended up knocked down or broken before catching anything. Then you put a cat cam on him, but every night, he would fling it off after you went to sleep.

You had enough. It was getting creepy. You decided you would follow him. He never tried to leave while you were awake, though, so you had to pretend to sleep.

The sound of the door could very faintly be heard closing, so you got up silently and slunk into the living room.

Astonished, you looked at the door. It had been unlocked, and Twiggy was missing. He had somehow figured out how to open doors. It wasn't entirely unheard of for a cat to manage a door handle, but the lock?

You quietly left the building and saw Twiggy moving with purpose down the road.

After a while, you thought yourself stupid. He was just going to do random cat stuff. Why were you following him? He probably just smelled something that gripped his attention.

But as he kept going through various alleys and back roads, a few other cats joined him without any reaction from him. They proceeded in orderly and determined fashion right into the old abandoned factory.

You followed and had to hold back a gasp at what you saw. Down in the basement level was Twiggy standing on a pile of scrap with dozens of other cats gathering below him.

It was some sort of cat cult.

But if you thought that was shocking, you hadn't seen anything yet. Suddenly, Twiggy effortlessly shifted into a nude man with curly brown hair, a tail, and cat ears on his head.

After he transformed, all the others did the same. The room was filled with naked men and women with tails and cat ears. This was getting too weird. The best course of action now was to make a silent retreat.

As you began to back away, Twiggy pointed in your direction and stated something you were too far to really hear.

In a flash, the cat people were upon you, dragging you over to Twiggy and forcing you to kneel before him before they tied you up and gagged you so you couldn't speak.

He addressed the others without sparing a glance at you.

"I infiltrated this human's place of employment and then their home."

He stroked your hair in a manner similar to the way you would pet him in his cat form.

"I have learned that we can use their workplace as a front and get adopted as their pets. We will use this method to infiltrate every home before taking over and turning humans into OUR pets!"

Twiggy turned to an androgynous looking cat person.

"River, I need you to take the form of this human and work at the shelter as we discussed at the last meeting. Come over tomorrow to my human's house, and I'll give you the schedule."

River nodded in affirmation.

After that, the meeting came to an end, and Twiggy dismissed the others. He pulled the gag off of you and allowed you to speak.

"Twiggy, w-what's go-"

The cat man smacked you harshly. It left an echo resounding through the large empty room.

"That's a gross pet name. My real name is Declan."

You whimpered and then flinched when he pet the spot he had smacked gingerly.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have hurt you, you didn't know… You probably have lots of questions."

Of course, you had questions. And Twig- Declan… answered every one of them patiently.

He explained that the cat people were aliens who just happened to have a form that looked like a common earth house pet. They could also look like any human they wanted, though they had to hide their feline features. He was the leader. And now that you were aware of everything, you got to be the first pet. His personal one. He promised to treat you well.

After the Q&A, he put on some clothes he had and took you back to what was no longer your house. He put your gag back in so you couldn't scream on the way.

True to his word, he treated you like a precious pampered pet, since you had helped heal him and took such good care of him. He even gave you a jeweled collar for you to wear as proof he owned and cared for you.

Though he had started to care about you in ways that he probably shouldn't have.

But after a while, he couldn't help it anymore. One night when your head was laying on his lap while the two of you watched a show he liked, something he forced you to do as he stroked your arm and side, his cock stirred under your head, and he had to give in.

He stripped you of all your clothes; you struggled and protested, but his strong, lean body easily overpowered your own.

He pulled off your collar and bit your neck hard to get you to submit as he mounted you, before shoving his cock in you deeply all at once with no preparation.

The cat man fucked into you ferally, going off pure instinct, pushing your head into the couch cushion so no one could hear your screams.

You were sure you were going to die, that you were going to be split apart by his girthy cock, that the last things you would hear were your muffled screams, the sound of his nuts slamming into you, and his animalistic growls.

Declan's cock pistoned in and out roughly as tears streamed down your face. You felt a sense of shame as he forced you to orgasm despite the cruelty of the way he was violating you.

It wasn't enough that he took your house, job, and way of life and eventually would take your planet, but now he was claiming your insides with his throbbing cock as well.

He came in you roughly and finally seemed to gradually come back to his senses. He licked away your tears and the blood and cum that were mingled and leaking from your hole.

"I'm so sorry, I just couldn't help myself! I'll be more gentle and use lube next time, okay?"

The cat man comforted you as best he could, bathing you as you sobbed. He sincerely regretted hurting you, but he couldn't deny his instincts and really needed some release. Going forward, he decided you would be his mate as well as his pet, so he didn't go wild with pent-up emotions again.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #my ocs #yandere x reader #monster boyfriend #gender neutral reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere monster #male yandere x gn reader #My OC Declan #Yandere alien #yandere exo #yandere exophilia #yandere cat man #yandere cat hybrid

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doctorbitchcrxft · 3 months ago

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What Is and What Never Should Be | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: Dean's an alcoholic dick, coping with trauma from a sexual assault, mentions of parental abuse, mentions of suicide but like not really cause it’s in a dream, canon violence, canon gore (take care of yourselves, as always. Love you guys.)

Word Count: 5281

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About two weeks had passed since you’d left Deacon’s prison. You were convinced it was the hardest two weeks of your life. You couldn’t quite decide if you wanted Dean hugging you all the time, or if you never wanted anyone to touch you again. It felt like every time you looked in the mirror, you were in that disheveled prison guard outfit again, tears streaming down your face with fresh scrapes trailing down your arm. You felt like you were never going to leave the prison’s parking lot.

It definitely didn’t help that you were also having to deal with being fugitives simultaneously. Sam and Dean were waiting for you back at the motel. You put the two of them on a strict lockdown given their mugshots would be everywhere, and the feds hadn’t seemed to find a clear enough image of you to post yours. You drove the Impala around the area of your newest hunt searching for a potential location the victims could have been brought to while the boys researched back in their motel room.

You knew Dean could tell you were pulling away from him, and you knew it was hurting him. You didn’t want to, but you couldn’t let him in right now. You didn’t want to burden him with your problems given Sam was supposed to be the main concern right now and evading federal agents was a huge priority. You needed to deal with your issues in silence in order to keep yourself from completely breaking down in front of the boys and pulling focus away from what you believed were more pressing issues.

Your phone rang and broke you out of your thoughts. It was Sam’s number. “Hello?” you said into the phone.

“Hey. Got you on speaker,” he replied. “There’s a cop car outside.”

“You think it’s for us?” you questioned.

“I don't know.”

“I don't see how,” Dean jumped in, his voice a little distant. “I mean we ditched the plates, the credit cards.”

Sam breathed out suddenly. “They're leaving. False alarm.”

“Well, see. Nothing to worry about,” Dean jested.

“Yeah, being fugitives? Friggin’ dance party,” Sam deadpanned.

“Hey, man, chicks dig the danger vibe,” Dean commented.

You scoffed. “Got anything yet?” you asked the boys.

“Just one thing. I'm pretty sure of it now. We're hunting a Djinn,” Sam answered.

“Really? How do you know?” you questioned.

“A freaking genie?” Dean asked simultaneously. “What? You think these suckers can really grant wishes?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “I guess they're powerful enough. But not exactly like Barbara Eden in harem pants. I mean, Djinn have been feeding off people for centuries. They're all over the Quran.”

“And where do these guys shack up?” you asked.

“Ruins usually. Uh, bigger the better; more places to hide,” Sam replied.

Something struck you. “Y’know, I think I saw a place a couple miles back. I'm gonna go check it out.”

“Hell no, (Y/N),” Dean stated, voice suddenly much closer to the phone. “You’re not goin’ without us.”

“Dean, I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s nothing. I just wanna take a look around,” you argued.

“I’ll call you guys when I’m headed back.” Despite the voices of the Winchesters protesting, you hung up the phone and turned the Impala around.

Minutes later, you came upon a decaying factory. Doors squeaked on their hinges as you pushed through them and decades-old papers crunched beneath your feet like fallen leaves. Everything seemed very empty and very abandoned, but you weren’t quite convinced. You headed deeper into the factory past several offices with smashed windows on their doors and blinds hanging crookedly.

Suddenly, something grabbed you and pinned you to the wall behind you. You dropped the flashlight you were holding as the Djinn pinned your hand above your head. You got a clear look at the monster in front of you; a bald man with curling blue tattoos detailing his face and body. You struggled against him, trying to get your knife through his chest with your free hand, but he pinned that one as well. The eyes before you began to glow an electric blue, and your entire body went numb.

*** The next time you woke up, you were alone in a comfortable bed. You jerked up, turned on the lamp next to you, and took in the room around you. There were scrubs tossed on the back of a rocking chair in the corner of the room and a picture of you and Dean hung on the far wall.

‘What the fu—’ you thought.

Suddenly, a shirtless Dean entered the room wearing sweatpants hanging low on his hips. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Dean!” you exclaimed. “What the fuck is goin’ on?”

He eyed you strangely and snorted. “Wha— What do you mean?”

“Where are we?” you asked.

Dean paused, still standing in the doorway and taken aback. “Uh, our house?”

“What?” you questioned.

“Babe, are you feeling okay?” he questioned, sitting on the bed next to you. “I knew your shift at the hospital was bad, but—”

“Wait, what? I don’t work in a hospital, I was hunting a Djinn—”

Dean cut you off. “You were probably just having a bad dream, sweetheart. Let’s go back to bed, okay?”

You weren’t quite sure what Dean was talking about or if this was even Dean. Maybe he’d been possessed, maybe you’d been— ‘Wait,’ you thought. ‘The Djinn. Maybe he did this to me.’

Dean climbed into bed next to you, and you noticed he wasn’t wearing the amulet he quite literally never took off. You were apparently eyeing him strangely, because he chuckled, “What?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, “Just, uh— where’s your necklace?”

Dean laughed, almost sounding relieved. “Oh, I took it off to shower.” He put a silver chain with dog tags hanging from it around his neck. He opened his arm for you to settle into.

Hesitantly, you laid down on Dean’s chest. You didn’t get much sleep the remainder of that night, though; incredibly uneasy about what was going on around you.

Around three in the morning, you slipped out of Dean’s arms and began to explore the house around you. You peeked through the bedroom window to see a neighborhood outside that screamed Middle America. You crept down the hallway to the living room and kitchen area.

Along the walls of the den, there were photos hanging of what looked like you as a teenager and a child, but you couldn’t be sure. You didn’t think photos of you existed of that time in your life. And if they did exist, they definitely were not of you at your third birthday with a pink frilly party hat stuffing cake in your face or of you in a cap and gown graduating high school and college. The next thing that caught your eye was a picture of you hugging Steven tightly. Your hand flew to your mouth at the sight. However, it wasn’t your Steven. This one was older and a lot happier than the Steven you once knew.

Then, there were pictures of you and your mother. Your father was nowhere to be seen, much to your surprise. You nearly wept at the sight of your mom. Then, there were pictures of a young Sam and Dean. One was Dean hugging his mother. He looked much older than four which was the age you knew his mother died at.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out.

You took out your phone and checked the time. You considered for a moment, but decided to call Sam figuring he would likely be up soon anyway.

“Sam?” you asked when the call was answered.

“(Y/N)?” His voice sounded raspy and tired.

“Hey, yeah, what the hell’s goin’ on, man?” you demanded.

“(Y/N), what are you—”

“Oh, god, not you, too.” You hung up the phone and ran a hand through your hair. No one but you seemed to understand that this wasn’t right. You noticed something laying on the coffee table at your feet. An envelope addressed to you with Lawrence, Kansas written on one of the address lines.

“Lawrence? Why the fuck am I in Lawrence?” you breathed out.

You noticed a computer sitting a distance away and immediately hurried to it. You typed in your password; no luck. You tried Sam’s password for his and Dean’s shared laptop; no luck either. Frustrated, you sat back in the desk chair. You weren’t sure where the idea came from, but you suddenly had the thought to type in Steven’s name and birthday. Somehow, it worked. You remembered how that was your original idea for a computer password when you first bought yourself a laptop in your real life, but the reminder of Steven was too painful to do so.

You then set to work researching the Djinn. You learned that they’re not so much genies as they are wielders of godlike power. They could alter reality to their whims however they want in the past, present, and future.

Then, the thought hit you. ‘What if this is just my life now? What if I never see my Dean again? Am I even a hunter wherever this is?’ Your breath hitched as you realized something else. ‘Was I ever raped? Are my parents alive? Where’s Stevie?’

You typed “whitepages” into the search bar and put in your father’s full name; no results. You tried your mother’s and actually got a hit. She lived in Lawrence, too.

‘What the fuck?’

You then tried Steven’s. Surprisingly, his name generated results, too. He also lived in Lawrence.

You hurriedly wrote their addresses down on a sticky note beside you on the desk. When you returned to your room, it was around five in the morning. Creeping around the room, you discovered the clothes in your closet were nothing like you wore in the real world: flowing skirts, cardigans, and lots of different colored scrubs. You almost smiled at the sight of the clothes hanging in your closet.

‘In another life, I definitely would’ve worn all this,’ you thought. You’d always wanted Carrie Bradshaw’s closet; Sex and the City was one of your guilty pleasure shows in the real world.

Your outfit of choice consisted of a pair of low-rise jeans, a halter top with a plunging neckline, and… ‘Oh.’ The only shoes this version of you had in her closet were heels. Admittedly, you’d never been great at wearing them, but always wanted to try. And so, you did.

Dean still slept peacefully, and you carefully clacked your heels back down the hallway. You headed outside to find the Impala in the driveway, and for that, you were grateful.

“Hey, sweet girl,” you grinned. You remembered seeing car keys on a hook next to the door of the house and quickly grabbed them. You popped open the trunk of the Impala secretly hoping to find something useful in it. However, old playboy magazines and paper cups were all you found.

‘Ew, Dean, clean out your car.’

You moved around to the driver’s side of the car. Before you could sit down in it, though, something caught your eye. A girl with a gaunt face and billowing white clothing was standing across the street on one of the neighbor’s lawns. A car blew past, and she was suddenly gone.

***

You rolled to a stop in front of the first address you had written down: your mother’s. You tried to keep your composure as you walked up to her front door. Hesitantly, you rapped your knuckles against it.

The door opened to reveal your beautiful mother who you’d missed so much. She looked a little older than she did the last time you saw her, and it was all you could do to keep yourself from throwing your arms around her.

“Mom?” you breathed out.

“What is it, hon?” she asked. “C’mon, come inside.”

The sound of her voice made tears spring to your eyes. You followed her into the living room where pictures of you and Steven lined the walls between crucifixes.

“Hey, Mom?” you started. “What song did you sing to me before you used to put me to bed?”

She looked confused, but humored you anyway. “The, uh, ‘The Long to Be’ song by the Carpenters.”

You smiled, partially in relief that this seemed to really be her and not just a figment of your imagination and partially at the fact that she knew. You rushed to her and hugged her tightly. Your mother seemed taken aback once more, but didn’t say anything to let on that she was.

“You okay? Everything alright with Dean?” your mother asked you.

“Oh, yeah, everything’s— everything’s great. Just, uh, it was a rough day at the hospital, ‘s all,” you said.

“How’s the garage?”

You tilted your head. “The garage?”

She seemed confused, too. “Dean’s? How’s work going for him?”

“Oh, oh. The garage, of course,” you laughed awkwardly. ‘Smooth, (Y/N),’ you mentally berated yourself. “Yeah, it’s fine, it’s great.”

“Really? Last time we talked, he was too busy drinking to focus on fixing a car,” she said.

You felt stunned. The Dean you knew was bordering on becoming an alcoholic, sure, but he wouldn’t let that get in the way of his job.

“Baby, I’m glad to see you, but why are you here at six in the morning?” your mom questioned.

“I just— I just couldn’t sleep. Needed to see my mom,” you replied. It was a half-truthful response.

Your mother offered a small, thoughtful smile. “Oh,” she suddenly said. “What time are you and Dean going to dinner tonight?”

You tilted your head. “Uh—”

“For Mary’s birthday?” she prompted.

“Oh, oh,” you said. “Right.”

“Did he not tell you?” she asked. “(Y/N), I’ve been telling you that boy isn’t right for you for a while now.”

“Mom—” you protested.

“No, (Y/N). You’re a fantastic nurse. You’re dating a drunkard mechanic. Why couldn’t you have dated Sam?”

“Ew, mom, no. Sam’s my best friend,” you said.

She seemed stunned. “What? That’s new. Last we talked, you hadn’t heard from Sam in months. Neither had Dean.”

It was your turn for your eyes to widen. “Right, right, yeah. Sorry. I’m just—”

“Have you been drinking? Dean’s rubbing off on you, (Y/N). You should have listened to me when I warned you about him,” your mother sighed.

“Jesus, Mom—”

“Don’t take his name in vain!” she scolded.

You scoffed. “I forgot that you’re like this.” You crossed your arms and turned away from her.

“Like what?” your mother pressed, voice rising.

“So incredibly judgmental of me. I’ve never been good enough for you or Dad, Mom!”

“How dare you bring up your father!” your mother cut you off.

“What?!”

“Wow, you really are drunk, (Y/N),” she replied. “He’s been dead almost your whole life. You barely even knew him. How could you say that about him?”

You felt like you’d been punched in the chest. ‘So that means he never hit us.’ “Mom, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Just leave, (Y/N). Please. I’ll call you tomorrow,” she sighed.

You turned and slammed the door behind you. You sat in the Impala with your head on the steering wheel just trying to process everything that was going on. Even in this fantasy land or new reality or wherever this place was, your mother was harshly critical of you. Granted, you’d rather her harshly criticize you and be alive than dead, but this version of your mother perfectly mirrored the true version of her. It truly freaked you out.

‘Well, scratch that off the list, I guess,’ you thought.

***

You hesitantly knocked on the door of your little brother’s home.

“(Y/N)?” he asked upon opening the door.

Tears sprang to your eyes. “Steve?” you breathed out.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” he asked.

You smiled as a tear slipped down your cheek. “Uh, just a hard day at work ‘s all,” you replied. You threw yourself into his arms; a hug he responded to immediately.

“Hey, seriously, what happened?” he asked when you pulled away. “Was it Dean again? The hospital never gets to you like that.”

“Wait, what? No,” you shook your head. “Why does everybody keep saying he treats me poorly?”

Steven looked at you as if it was obvious. “Uh, ‘cause he does. He’s an alcoholic playboy asshole that you’re way too good for.”

“What?!” you questioned. “No, he isn’t.”

He sighed. “Listen, (Y/N), I don’t wanna keep having this fight with you.”

“Yeah, me neither,” you replied. You stopped for a moment. “Stevie, I’m really happy to see you.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m glad to see you, too.”

A small voice piped up from behind your brother. “Daddy?”

Steven stepped back to reveal a staggering toddler in pigtails. He picked her up and grinned down at her. “What’s up, kiddo?”

‘He’s a dad?’ Your shock only increased, and you smiled at the sight of them interacting. Another tear slipped down your cheek.

“Why’s Minnie crying?” the toddler asked her father.

You grinned. “She calls me ‘Minnie’?”

Steven nodded. “Yeah, just like I used to.”

You laughed. “Can I hold her?”

“Duh,” he replied, handing his daughter to you.

“Hi, sweet girl,” you grinned down at her. She tugged on the ends of your hair, babbling happily and singing to herself.

“Look, Minnie, I braid.” The toddler held up a now twisted, knotted mess of your hair.

You smiled at her. “Awesome job, angel.”

You sat on the floor playing with your niece and Steven for hours until your phone rang.

“Hey, (Y/N), where ya been?” Dean’s voice came from the other line.

“Steven’s,” you replied. “Why, what’s up?”

“We gotta be at my mom’s in an hour. Meet me there?” he asked.

*** You met Dean on the steps of his mother’s house.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he grinned, pecking your lips.

Suddenly, a voice came from behind you. “Seriously, Dean?”

“Sam!” you exclaimed, turning around to give him an enthusiastic hug. He hesitated to return it, and the woman next to him cleared her throat. You released him to come face to face with Jessica, a woman you’d only seen in pictures.

“Hey, Jess,” you said, the name feeling strange on your tongue. You hugged her as well, and she awkwardly laughed.

“Hi, (Y/N),” she said.

You then noticed the awkward distance between the two brothers and the bags Sam was lugging out of the trunk of the taxi in front of you.

“Where'd you guys come from?” you asked.

“We just flew in from... Califor—”

“California! Stanford and everything. Right, sorry,” you laughed. “I’m really not with it today.”

Sam nodded somewhat disapprovingly. “I can see that.” He motioned to the beer in Dean’s hand. “I see you started off Mom's birthday with a bang, as usual.”

“Sam—” Dean warned.

Your heart was breaking at the awkward tension between two brothers who were otherwise incredibly close friends. You couldn’t believe there was a universe where Sam and Dean weren’t, well, Sam and Dean.

***

The restaurant you sat in next to Dean was stuffy. Sam and Jessica were dressed equally as stuffy. Nothing felt right at this moment. You were suddenly reminded of the reason why you were here, and that you needed to figure out how to help yourself get out of here.

“Wow, that... looks awesome,” Dean said, referring to the plate of steak and asparagus that had been placed in front of him.

Sam raised his glass. “All right. To Mom. Happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday,” you, Dean, and Jessica said in unison.

“Thank you,” Mary replied, clinking her glass against yours.

You watched Sam and Jessica peck each other on the lips and you smiled fondly.

“I was really worried about you last night,” Dean told you.

“Oh, I'm… I'm good. I'm really good,” you nodded.

“For some reason, I don’t believe you,” he smirked. “I know a few ways I can make that a reality, though.”

You recoiled at that comment, slightly dumbfounded by how correct Steven had been about Dean’s behavior in this realm.

“Jess and I actually have another surprise for Mom's birthday. Ah,” Sam turned to Jessica, “you wanna tell 'em?”

“They're your family,” she laughed.

“What? Tell me what?” Mary asked excitedly.

Sam held up Jessica’s left hand to reveal an engagement ring. You laughed happily in surprise. “Holy shit! That’s amazing!” You got up and hugged Sam happily before hugging Jessica. “Congratulations!” you told them.

“I just wish your dad was here,” Mary told Sam.

You suddenly realized John was missing. You searched Sam’s face, whose disappointment mirrored his mother’s.

Dean and Sam awkwardly shook hands which hurt your heart a little to see. Just behind them, though, you noticed the girl from earlier. Her white, flowing clothing was much filthier and torn this time. You brushed past Sam and headed toward the girl, pushing past people mingling in between you and the haunting figure. As you pushed past the final woman, the girl was gone.

Confused, you turned back around to see the equally weirded-out faces of the Winchester family.

Sheepishly, you grinned and walked back over to them.

*** “You got somethin’ we need to talk about?” Dean asked you. He’d been completely silent since dinner up until this moment. He downed a beer in the kitchen before turning to you.

“What?” you asked.

“Back there with Sam. What’s going on with you two?” Dean asked. “In fact, you’ve been acting really weird the past two days. There somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

You scoffed. “Dean, I’m not fucking your brother. Look, I’m not feeling like myself right now. ‘S all.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Dean responded mockingly.

“Dude, why are you being such a dick?” you questioned.

“Oh, so we just call each other ‘dude’ now?” he argued.

“Listen, I’m really not enjoying this attitude, okay?” you responded.

Dean cut you off. “I’m not enjoying yours, either. What happened to the sweet little nurse I married?”

“Jesus, we’re married?” you questioned before you could help yourself.

“(Y/N), what the hell?” Dean replied, his confusion seeming to grow by the minute.

“I think I’m just… overly tired. I’m gonna… sleep out here tonight,” you said.

Dean scoffed. “Since when are you the childish one?”

“I’m not being childish, Dean, I just wanna sleep on the couch tonight, okay?” you hissed.

“Fine.” He left the room and returned to the bedroom the two of you apparently shared. You heard the door slam a moment later, and you flinched. You settled to the couch and pulled a blanket over yourself. You clicked on the television and began clicking through the channels. Something on the news caught your attention.

“And today marks the anniversary of the crash of United Britannia Flight 424,” the reporter began.

“What the—” you breathed out.

“Indianapolis residents held a candlelight vigil in memory of the hundred and eight people who lost their lives—”

Your throat clenched. “No, no. We stopped that crash.”

Panicked, you moved to your computer. Every hunt you checked had apparently never happened. “Nine Children Comatose” was the headline describing a “mystery illness” that had swept Dane County Hospital. Then, the brutal homicides from the clown killer after John died. And Taylor from the closing-down-Hoodoo-hotel case had drowned in the hotel pool. As you looked out the front window, you saw the same woman you’d seen twice already flash by the window. You turned around to see several female corpses hanging around you, and you nearly screamed out in surprise. Then, that same woman again flickering in front of you.

This twisted world was completely shocking even you, an experienced hunter. Your mind raced, but you knew what you had to do. A picture of your dad holding you as a baby on the wall of your house caught your attention.

“I’m sorry you’re not here, Dad,” you murmured. “And I know what I need to do. I’m gonna hunt this son of a bitch, but… I don’t know. Stevie’s happy. Mom’s… Mom. And I just— Why do we always have to be the ones to sacrifice something? A part of me is happy to do it, and this is proof that I could never have this. But it’s just… I don’t know. I know you’re tellin’ me to stop whinin’ and just get it done. I’ll make you proud. I promise.”

And with that, you grabbed a silver knife from your china cabinet and headed out to the Impala. You managed to steal lamb’s blood from a butcher’s shop and headed to the factory you’d last seen the Djinn at.

***

Hours later, you arrived at the factory in Illinois. Running on pure adrenaline, you headed inside. You moved your flashlight around to illuminate different parts of the factory, and you ignored your phone as it began to ring in your back pocket. The ringing silenced, and then rang again. Without thinking, you lifted your phone over your head and slammed it into the ground, shattering and silencing it completely.

Then, you came across a big store room with the same bodies you’d seen hanging in your living room strung up around it. Next, you noticed the woman you’d been seeing all along. She seemed close to death; her cheeks sallow, face pale, and body hanging limply.

“It’s her,” you breathed out.

Suddenly, you saw the Djinn coming around the corner. You ducked into the shadows as the woman began to cry. “Where's my dad? I won't tell—” she suddenly cut herself off. “Don't. Where's my dad?”

“Sleep,” you heard a soothing male voice say. “Sleep.”

You then saw the woman’s body completely relax, and the Djinn began to drink from the blood bag next to where she was hanging.

‘So that’s what it does,’ you realized. ‘It doesn’t grant you a wish, it just makes you think it has.’ As the Djinn disappeared, you continued to think. ‘What if I'm like her? What if I'm tied up in here some place? What if all this is in my head?’ You walked up to the woman. “I mean it could, you know, maybe it gives us some kind of supernatural acid, and then just feeds on us slow.’ You nearly scoffed audibly. ‘So, she’s not a spirit, she’s a flash of reality. I’m catatonic. Fucking great.’

Then, you remembered an old wives’ tale. “Listen to me, motherfucker!” you called into the darkness. “I’m gonna slit my fucking throat! I die in a dream, I wake up, right! Come and get me, I dare you!”

“Wait!” Dean’s voice suddenly called. He walked into the room.

“Why'd you have to keep digging?” Sam asked.“Why couldn't you have left well enough alone? You were happy.”

Your mother walked up to you and put a hand to your cheek. “Put the knife down, honey.”

“You're not real,” you said, tears forming in your eyes. “None of it is.”

“It doesn't matter. It's still better than anything you had,” Steven replied, holding his daughter.

“What?” you breathed.

“It's everything you want. C’mon, let’s go home,” Dean pleaded.

“I'll die,” you argued, voice breaking. “The Djinn 'll drain the life out of me in a couple of days.”

“But in here, with us, it'll feel like years. Like a lifetime,” your mother said. “I promise.” She put her hand to your cheek and stroked it with her thumb. “No more pain. Or fear. Just love and comfort. And safety. (Y/N), stay with us. Get some rest.”

“You and Dean don't have to worry about Sam anymore,” Jessica said. “You get to watch him live a full life.”

Dean walked up to you and kissed you fiercely. “We can have a future together. Have our own family. I love you, sweetheart. Please.”

“Why is it our job to save everyone? Haven't we done enough?” Sam tried. “I'm begging you. Give me the knife.”

You looked over to Steven, your lip quivering as you sobbed. “I’m sorry.” You slashed your throat with the knife, and the world went white once more.

***

“(Y/N)!” you heard someone yelling. “Sweetheart, wake up. (Y/N)!”

‘Dean.’

“Oh, God. Come on,” you heard Sam murmuring. “Hey. Wake up. Wake up, damn it!”

You began to roll your head a little, and your eyes could finally open. “Hey, guys.”

“Jesus, (Y/N),” Dean sighed. “I thought I lost you for a second.”

One of the two boys yanked out the IV in your arm.

“You almost did,” you joked half-heartedly.

“Oh, god,” Dean muttered, giving you a once-over. “Let's get you down.”

You winced as the boys helped you down, but you suddenly saw a pair of blue eyes glowing behind the boys. “Boys!”

Sam wheeled around, going at the Djinn with the knife. Dean immediately tried to get you away from the scene and set you down a distance away from the scene. “Stay here!” he ordered.

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I,” you groaned as Dean turned to help his brother. Several yelps and groans later, the two boys staggered over to you after having killed the Djinn. You pushed yourself off the floor, wincing, and immediately moved over to the girl you’d been seeing in your sleep. “She's still alive!” you called to the boys upon feeling a pulse in her neck.

The two Winchesters helped you cut her down and get her out of the factory to a hospital.

***

Upon your return to the motel, you found out from the hospital that she was alive and stable. There was a solid chance the girl would pull through.

“How 'bout you? You all right?” Sam asked you.

“Yeah, I’m fine, guys,” you said. “I’m great, actually. I’m just— I’m just glad to be back here again.”

“What was it like?” Dean asked.

“Oh, you were a complete dick,” you replied.

Dean chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

“And Sam— Sam you were such a freak,” you said. “All stuffy and Stanford-y.” You paused for a moment. “But, uh, you guys were really breakin’ my heart, honestly. You couldn’t get along to save your life.”

“I thought it was supposed to be this perfect fantasy,” Sam said.

“Trust me, it wasn’t,” you replied. “I know we’ve lost a lot, but, uh, I wouldn’t trade any of this for the world. Even seeing Stevie again, I— it just wasn’t right. I felt like more of a freak there than I do here. I, uh, I wished what happened to me at the prison never had, but the truth is, that’s always gonna be with me. I can’t just… get rid of it. Nothing can. And that’s not okay, but I’ll learn to live with it.”

You left the boys to sit with your words and moved to the bathroom. When you looked up at the mirror, an image of you with your mussed-up hair and guard uniform on flashed before you. You ignored the fresh-looking scrapes on your arm and blood streaking down them and shut your eyes. When you opened them once more, you were back to looking at your sunken face and tired eyes.

Dealing with this was hell. Every day felt like a struggle since what happened to you. But deep down, if you were honest with yourself, you would take dealing with all this with your two boys over your white-picket-fence, Djinn-dream-life any day.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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citruslullabies · 7 months ago

Note

Can we please have some more dog moments from Dogday please?

Sure can do sweetheart! Dog moments from Dogday💚

Dogday is well.. extremely loyal

He waits for you every day, waiting patiently for you to come back to him. Fearful that one day you won't

But you always do, and he can't help but adore the loving hands that return to him and save him from himself and his story

The clock ticked effortlessly, each tick feeling like an hour but it had only been a minute. The large canine sighed as he waited by the door of the cabin you all called home, with Biscuits nuzzled into his side as he waited. Peanuts waited too, howling sometimes as he felt you took too long to come home and Cubby just kept her distance from everything until she knew you were home.

His floppy ears drooped even more, eyes weary as he thought of any possibility. Even after you had all left the factory, his heart still couldn't fathom the fact that they were all safe and he still worried for your safety when you were away. In a way, being in the outside world rather than the factory made him fear for you more. So when he heard the fumbling of keys and saw the door open, he immediately got up and greeted you with a wagging tail. "Angel! You're home. How was your day? Did anything happen at work?" He asked, following you around like a lost puppy dog when he was a grown man. He listened to you rant and ramble, listening and just glad you were home. He would lay by that door and rot if you hadn't.

Dogday doesn't like baths

He can tolerate them but... He isn't gonna like em

And he has no clue why, when he was a human he loved taking hot showers. Not it just felt like an inconvenience to him

Dogday grumbled as you forced his oversized body into the tub before turning on the faucet, ignoring his groans and stares of displeasure as his arms were folded over his golden chest. The warm water felt nice but something about having wet fur just irked him.

He felt your gentle hands rub the soap into his fur, and he didn't mind that.. he just didn't like when you'd get a plastic bowl and fill it up with water before dunking it on his head or wherever he was soapy. Grumbling every time you did and shaking as payback, getting you and everything surrounding you soaked. You turned your back for a moment, grabbing a brush to brush a knot you found in his fur.. and he took the chance. Slowly, he lifted himself up and tried to sneak out of the bathtub but was quickly caught red-handed.

"Dogday!" You scolded, walking back over and ignoring his big guilty puppy eyes as you got him back in the bathtub. He huffed and wanted to fight against you, but just gave up. You're lucky he loved you so much.

Time for the angst guys

Remember how I said he'd just lay and rot in front of the door if you didn't come back? Yeahhh..

He waited, and oh how he waited so very patiently. Waiting for hours with each tick that echoed through the house for you.

It had been days and he was scared, wanting to go out and look for you but you had told him to stay. And he was loyal to your demands... But he found himself too heavy to move and take care of himself or anyone else inside as long as you were gone. He continued to wait, ignoring a worried Poppy and Kissy. Ignoring the worried stares and even Cubby coming along and trying to get him to move despite her distaste for him.

He stayed and waited. And waited. And waited. Your scent started to leave the house, and that broke his heart. You smelled like nostalgia and home, like a fresh baked pie on thanksgiving but the home was now empty and abandoned. The pie now rotten and the good smell fading, all he could smell was the rain outside and the sadness he felt.

Nothing could make him move, and he continued to wait for you. And he would stay waiting for as long as it takes.

Thank you for requesting hon!

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seat-safety-switch · 18 days ago

Text

Have you ever thought about how weird it is that you can buy pineapples at the grocery store? Someone pulled this shit off a tree tens of thousands of kilometers away, and then sent it to me. If I don't buy it, they'll just throw it in the trash.

Global trade is a really remarkable invention of our species. My neighbour's Hyundai was born in South Korea, shipped here on a boat, and will never see its mother or most of its siblings again. Even so, it was only slightly more expensive than a locally-made Ford. Sorry, did I say "locally-made?" That was also made in a different country and shipped here under duress. We don't even notice such a miracle unless we check the registration.

My Volare was sent here from The America, a country which has been going through some rough times lately. I figured that maybe it would want to go back and see Missouri, its land of creation, at least once. That Hyundai would never get the opportunity: who would bundle an Elantra into a steamer ship? Driving there, though, was basically feasible. Well, feasible for anyone who wasn't operating a badly-maintained, 47-year-old example of one of Mopar's shittiest cars.

You guessed it: I broke down at the end of my block. There is good news, though. A couple months ago, I found a bicycle clogging the sewage drain near my office, and I was able to bang it mostly straight with a hammer. Ever since then, I've been throwing it in the trunk, and using it to ride home whenever one of my cars leave me stranded. It's been great for my cardio, but more importantly, it was built here. Plans changed. Volare out, whatever this bicycle is "in." I rode it to the bike shop that assembled it, stopping periodically to ingest fried food, craft beer, and ice cream so as not to unnecessarily improve my health from over-exercise.

Unfortunately for everyone, when I got to the bike store, the snooty repair-shop crew considered my quest incomplete. They didn't make the bikes there, just threw them together. The frame and wheels had come from China, they explained, a big integrated factory that punches out the parts, spitting out thousands of proto-bikes per second without any form of human involvement. You'd have to get on a plane and take it to go visit the mothership in Guangdong.

Confronted with the choice to either abandon my quest or willingly board a Boeing product, I decided to take the safer route and return home. Perhaps it was foolish to try and figure out the maternal bonds of soulless, inanimate methods of transportation. Or perhaps I just picked the wrong kind of product, I decided, picking up an apple at the grocery store on my way home. Surely, this thing came from here, I thought right before I read the label.

As soon as I figure out where "Northern Spy" is, you'll be the first to know.

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mikkomacko · 7 months ago

Note

a request for mob boss Nico, is there ever a time where the boys call y/n for help because they trusted her and didn’t want to upset Nico?

Oh definitely it happens all the time. They use her to soften up blows to Nico when they mess up or help clean them up if things get out of hand.

The first time they realized they could call her though was when her baby Holtzy needed help

——————————————————————

Alex Holtz joined the Devs after he got into legal trouble back home and reached out to Jesper for help. He had been disowned by his family and was living on the streets, and he made a mistake that was gonna haunt him forever now that he was aging out of being a juvenile. So Nico and Jesper brought him in, sent out the private jet and moved him to Jersey where he moved into a loft with the Hughes boys.

Bad idea off the bat but they’re all young and Nico thought they’d click (They do, a little too well).

Late on a Friday, you and Nico were sprawled out on the living room floor with piles of Lego pieces between you. You were racing to see who could build their set the fastest, not that it mattered because there was no real prize, but you two loved the competition.

Nico was finishing up one of the succulents on his set when a ringing phone interrupted the romcom you’d put on the background. Assuming it was work phone based on the hour, you went about your business until Nico fumbled with his silent phone and looked at you in confusion.

“S’yours baby.” He catches your attention, and you look over to the coffee table where you left your phone. Sure enough it’s vibrating across the glass, the screen lit up with Alex’s name.

Quickly, you grab the phone and slide to answer.

“Hi Holtzy, you ok?”

Immediately you know something is wrong. You can hear it in his breath, how it shakes and quivers. And you can hear the frantic voices in the background, whatever boys he went out with tonight obviously panicking.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s the matter?”

By now Nico is on his knees, watching you with concern. You can tell he’s ready to jump up and run, to fix whatever is going on. But Alex didn’t call him, he called you.

“I-something happened,” his voice is small and weak through the speaker and it makes your chest ache. “I didn’t mean to, I just-“

He’s cut off by a sob, one so shattering you can feel it in your own chest. “Ok, it’s ok. You wanna tell me where you are? I’m gonna come get you, ok?”

“Nico will be mad, he won’t want you here. I shouldn’t have-“

“Alex, he doesn’t care. We care about you, kid. Tell me where you are and I’m gonna fix it, ok?”

And Alex has always been good at responding to authoritative tones, better than any of the other boys that are his age. But he’s let down a lot of grown up’s in his life and you know how scared he is to do that to you and Nico.

He mumbles out an address not too far from the loft, telling you he’s in the lot out back with Jack and Luke.

“Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

Alex sniffles, chokes back another cry. “No, no drive safely. I can be ok.”

“I’ll be there in ten, don’t move and don’t touch anything ok? Unless someone’s gonna hurt you, you stay put.”

Mumbling his agreement, you tell him you’ll see him soon and hang up. Nico, having picked up on the conversation, has already collected the keys to the Range Rover and his gun, his feet tucked into his shoes.

“Where are we going?” He asks you and you pull on a jacket and shoes. Taking the pocketknife he holds out to you, you tuck into your pants.

“I’ll give directions.”

~~~~

Whatever Alex and the Hughes boys had been doing, they ended up outside an abandoned factory in a lot that is closed off.

Not that it stopped them seeing as the gate has been pried open and Nico is able to drive into the gravel covered lot.

You can see the Hughes boys kneeling over something on the sidewalk, barely illuminated by the street light. Alex is sitting a few feet away, curled into himself against the brick wall of the building. Before Nico can even stop the car, you’re jumping out.

Whatever scold Nico shouts after you is lost.

Jack and Luke look up at you helplessly when you jog up to them, panic stricken in the poor light. It only takes you a second to see why.

There’s a man under them, one that’s strangling out breathes and covered in blood. He doesn’t appear to be awake, but you realize the two brothers are both pressing their hands into the wound on his abdomen.

“Oh fuck,” you mumble, crouching down to feel for the man’s pulse. It’s weak, but it’s there so you rise again, wipe the blood on your finger onto your pants.

“Keep holding, I’ll be right back.”

Jack and Luke call after you but you don’t hear them. You’re too busy approaching Alex, sinking down to your knees in front of him. He doesn’t lift his head out of his hands until you gently touch his knees.

The sight of him almost has you in tears. His eyes are red and puffy, cheeks splotchy from crying and he’s matted his hair with the blood that was on his hands.

Somehow, he looks even younger than he actually is.

“Alex, are you ok? Are you bleeding?”

He shakes his head, a fresh set of tears streaming down his face. “I don’t know what happened, one minute we were joking around and then he was talking shit and shoving Luke and I-“

“You did what you had to,” you assure him, reaching for his hands. “You were protecting family, Alex and that’s what we do.”

You stroke over his knuckles, nod along as he tells you about how he just went blank, he was so angry he couldn’t even see anything and then the man was bleeding and they didn’t know what to do.

So Jack dragged him into the empty lot and told him to call Nico. He couldn’t though, he couldn’t let Nico know that he messed up so badly already.

You wait for him to finish talking, push his hair off his forehead. “It’s ok, it’s ok,” you assure him. “You did exactly what you were supposed to. You were smart and you were quick, and you protected Luke.”

“Nico told us to protect you,” he mumbles sadly “I shouldn’t have brought you into this but he’s so scary sometimes. What if he sends me back?”

You squeeze his fingers, make him look at you. “Holtzy, you’re a Dev.” You say firmly, “Nico knows what that means, we all know what that means. You’re here, you’re with us no matter what. And if you think me being here is putting me in danger, you’re wrong. It’s my job to protect all of you.”

Finally he relaxes, shaking as you rise and help him to his feet. You cup his face, wipe away the tear tracks on his face before pulling him down into a hug. He squeezes you back, grateful.

“Go to the car, there’s clothes in the back.” You instruct, nudging him towards the parked vehicle. “Ignore Nico, he’s just a driver tonight, ok?”

You can see the reluctance in his eyes but he nods anyway and drags his feet to the car. Taking a deep breath, you join Jack and Luke again, and Nico who’s now crouched down with them.

“He ok?” Nico asks you, glancing towards Alex. You nod, rolling up the sleeves of your hoodie. Accepting the answer, Nico hands you the med kit he’d brought out from the car.

“Didn’t know the plan,” he tells you “you gonna fix him or are we leaving?”

Jack and Luke look between the two of you, and then at each other. They’re obviously thrown by Nico’s behavior, and it’s then that you realize this is the first time one of them has called you in crisis.

“Fix him,” you decide, flipping open the large box and digging out everything you’ll need to clean him up and stitch him. “And when he wakes up, you’ll make sure he forgets everything.”

Nico’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised and impressed with your answer. “Yeah?”

You nod, pulling on some gloves. “But make sure he knows that if he ever touches Luke or even thinks about Alex, I’ll personally be undoing all the hard work I did on him tonight.”

You don’t miss the smile that rises on your boyfriend’s face, how his eyes crinkle and dimples sink into his cheeks. “Sure thing, boss.” He agrees, moving around you so he can pull your hair back for you and tie it up.

Pressing a kiss to your head, he rises to his feet and moves towards Alex and the car.

“Nico,” you stop him, and he turns to look at you. “He’s shaken and he’s sorry. Be a friend.”

Biting back another grin, he nods. “And clear out the backseat, these three are coming back with us.”

He nods and turns on his heel, doing as told. Certain that he’ll listen to you, you get to work on fixing up the man below you. And you swell with pride when Jack and Luke follow your lead like obedient soldiers.

#him and i #him and i asks #mob boss nico hischier #nico hischier #requested #him and i chats

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asimpforthe80s · 5 months ago

Text

Found You, Andrei

Starring: Nikto x bestfriend!Reader

Warnings: mentions of: torture, going to the gulag, and Russian speaking. Smut: Reader riding him, unprotected p in v, and stroking his cock.

"I'm going on a mission," he said softly and leaned against the railing of the bridge, the dark and cold, murky waters of the Neva reflected in his pale blue eyes. He didn't explain anything — as usual because of his never-ending top secret assignments — but his words sounded like a death sentence this time.

"I won't be able to keep in touch for quite some time. I'll text you on your old number when I get back. Don't throw it away, ры��ка."

He smiled faintly at you, trying to cheer you up a little when he saw an anxiety in your eyes. He squeezed your palm, putting a small photo card into it: there was an image of the two of you, smiling carelessly under a snow-covered scarlet mountain-ash. "You'll wait for me, won't you?" It was the last time you saw him.

You nervously smoothed out the crumpled corner of a worn photo, waiting for the next landing. The image faded a long time ago, but this is the only memento that was left of your dear friend. 6 years. 6 long years of searching, sleepless nights, smoked cigarettes, and endless stress. You've lost all your friends and family, sold all your possessions, and learned how to hold a gun. You have transferred from one PMC to another and visited, perhaps, every God-forsaken corner of the world. Hell, you even ended up in the Gulag, thinking that he was there, and managed to escape, taking advantage of the turmoil due to the escape of some crazy guy named Makarov. Now, you are one of the operators of the Shadow Company. You are stripped of your previous life completely, your ID is fake, and you don't even know if your dear friend is still alive. There's only a small bit of hope smoldering inside you.

Doing an intelligence mission, you split from the rest of the group to search through the abandoned gas factory. You ran into Nikto when you were storming a building. He now wore a mask, but you immediately recognized his icy blue eyes. It was your dear friend, your Andrei ... But he looked very changed. He was... Different.. Damaged… Broken.

"Nikto.." you said, instantly hugging him without caring about the danger signs in your head. The hug was unexpected, but not unwanted. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, like they remembered how to do it despite everything. But he pulled away quickly, almost roughly, as if afraid that you'd see something in his face. Or maybe just afraid of feeling something.

"You shouldn't be here." His voice was cold, detached. Yet, there was a hint of something else underneath, a flicker of warmth that made you wonder if it was real or just your imagination. "Go back to the others."

His hand reached out to push you gently, but there was no force behind it. Just a silent plea for you to leave before things got worse. Before he hurt you. "Nikto, you're coming with me." You said roughly, a complete contrast to the you he knew. "I'm not letting you disappear for 6 years only to find you and leave you again." You growled, grabbing his hand. "Nyet..." Nikto started to protest, but the grip on his hand was firm. A shiver went down his spine at the sound of your voice - it was different. Rougher. Harder. Not the soft, gentle voice he was used to hearing. But there was something else too - a hint of demand, of command.

And then he felt the hand on his, firm and unyielding. And he knew. He knew that this was it. That whatever wall he had built around himself was about to come crashing down. And he was terrified. But he also couldn't bring himself to pull away. Because despite everything, he needed this. Needed you. "You can take that new fucking attitude and burn it in hell.." you whispered as you started dragging him with you, taking him to your team. The roughness in your voice, the way you dragged him along, it was all so unlike you. But there was something about it that stirred something deep within him. Something primal and raw. As if a part of him was waking up after years of slumber.

"Nyet!" He protested again, but it came out more like a growl. He let you drag him, his body moving automatically as he followed you towards the others. But his mind was screaming at him, telling him to stop. Telling him that this wasn't right. That he should stay hidden, stay safe. But the feel of your hand on his, the sound of your voice, it was too much. Too compelling. "ты пойдешь со мной, хочешь ты этого или нет, Никто." You said, speaking his native language, 'you will come with me whether you like it or not, Nikto'.

The harshness of your words, spoken in his mother tongue, hit him like a punch to the gut. It was like a key turning in a lock, unlocking doors he thought he had sealed off forever. For a moment, he stood there, frozen, staring at you with wide, unblinking eyes.

Then, slowly, he nodded. He didn't know why he was agreeing to this. Didn't know why he was following you. All he knew was that he had to. Had to be with you. Even if it meant risking everything.

"Da..." He finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "Я... я хочу с тобой." He said, 'I... I want to be with you. You nodded. "Good.. cause I'm not letting you leave again, lyubimaya." The word 'lyubimaya', which translated to 'beloved', hit him like a punch to the stomach. It was a word he hadn't heard in years. Years of pain and torment had erased any semblance of love from his life. And yet, there it was. Coming from you. And it wasn't just in your tone, but in your touch. Your grip on his hand was almost possessive, as if you were staking your claim on him.

"Lyubimaya?" He repeated the word, tasting it on his lips. It was bitter but not unpleasant. For some reason, it made him want to lean into your touch instead of pulling away. "Yes, lyubimaya.." You repeated, taking him inside your team's extraction helicopter. The interior of the helicopter was warm and cozy compared to the cold outside. There was a sense of camaraderie among the men, a bond that could only be formed through shared experiences and dangers. Seeing you among them, giving orders, made his heart swell with pride. You belonged here. You were meant to be leading these men, not stuck in some office job.

As he sat next to you, he felt a strange sense of contentment wash over him. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time. Maybe never. And for some reason, it scared him. "когда мы вернемся на базу, ты поешь, а потом мы пойдем в мое общежитие. ты займешь мою постель без разговоров." You said, telling him that when you got back to base, he was gonna eat, go back to your dorm, and take your bed without discussion. The words hung in the air between them, heavy and laden with meaning. His post. His bed. You were claiming him. Marking him as yours in front of everyone. And for some reason, it thrilled him. Excited him.

"Dа..." He murmured, nodding slowly. "Я... я буду делать так, как ты сказала." He would do as you said. Without question. Without hesitation. Because in that moment, he would do anything for you. "Good, Andrei.." You mumbled, saying his real name. The use of his real name hit him like a punch to the gut. Andrei. A name he hadn't heard in years. A name that was as foreign to him now as if it were another language entirely. Yet, hearing it fall from your lips sent a shiver down his spine. A good shiver. One that made his heart race and his breath hitch.

"Andrei..." He echoed, testing the word on his tongue. It felt strange. Heavy. But also comforting. Like coming home after a long journey. "You're safe with us.." you said, still not letting go of his hand. Your words hit him like a bolt of lightning, searing through the fog of his mind and touching something deep within him. Safe. You were saying he was safe. With you. With your team.

The idea was so alien to him, so foreign, that for a moment, he couldn't comprehend it. Couldn't believe it. But then, he felt it. The tension easing from his shoulders. The tight knot in his stomach loosened. He was safe. Here. With you. "Now.. let me see you.." you murmured, reaching for his mask. Your fingers brushed against his mask, and for a moment, he tensed up. But then, he realized that you weren't going to hurt him. That you wouldn't do anything to harm him. So, he let out a slow breath and closed his eyes. He waited. Waited for the pain. Waited for the fear. But it never came. Instead, all he felt was your gentle touch. And it was... nice. Comforting. Almost soothing. As you took off his mask, you saw the many, many scars of his previous torture. Placing a soft hand on his cheek, you tried to assure him that he was safe and no one would hurt him. At least no one from your base. "Oh, Andrei.." you whispered softly in that voice he knew. Not in that rough and demanding voice he heard earlier. Your touch was soft, almost reverential as you traced the scars on his face. Each line and mark told a story of pain and suffering. But they didn't scare you. They didn't make you flinch away. They made you care. And that care...it was overwhelming. It was too much. Too intense. But at the same time, it was exactly what he needed.

"Oh, Andrei..." The way you said his name. It was like a caress. A promise. A vow. It was a name that held so much weight. So much meaning. And hearing it from your lips was... intoxicating. "любовь моя.. тебе больно.. столько шрамов.. дорогая.." you mumbled, pulling him in for a hug he so desperately needed. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. The warmth of your body against his own was like a balm to his soul. It was comforting. Reassuring. It was something he craved. Needed. Desperately.

"Да..." He agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Больно... Больно много." It hurt. A lot. But as you held him, he found himself relaxing. Letting go of the fear. Of the pain. Just for a moment. "And that's okay.. A... Andrei.." you whispered with a soft stutter, taking off your own mask, discarding it on the floor along with his. Your mask hitting the floor brought him back to reality. Back to the harshness of their situation. But seeing you discard your mask too...it meant something. It meant trust. Loyalty. Friendship. Family. All things he'd been denied for so long.

"Da..." He nodded, finally opening his eyes to look at you. Really look at you. No mask. No disguise. Just you. His friend. His family. You were crying.. but.. matching. The both of you had so many scars. "Just like we used to.. we're matching.." You cried. Your tears stung his eyes, but he didn't blink. Didn't flinch. He just stood there, soaking in the sight of you. Of your tears. Of your scars. Matching. Just like old times. Only now, it wasn't just physical scars. It was emotional ones, too. Scars from the past. From the pain. From the loss.

"But why?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why are we like this? Why did we have to become this?" You chuckled, drying your tears. "I wanted to find you.. I got desperate.. so I joined the same shit you did.. even went to the fucking gulag.." you cried. Your words hit him like a punch to the gut. Gulag. Fucking gulag. That place was hell on earth. And you went there. For him. Because you were desperate. Because you wanted to find him. Him. The monster that was Nikto.

"And you found me..." He muttered, feeling an odd mix of emotions. Pride. Relief. Fear. Guilt. All swirling around inside him like a storm. "I- I searched so many places.. и я наконец нашел тебя.." you said. Your words echoed in his mind. I finally found you. Those words were like a balm to his broken soul. A sign that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't alone anymore. That someone cared enough to look for him. To risk everything to find him.

"I'm sorry..." He muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sorry for dragging you into this mess." You chuckled as you cried. "No, no, it's nothing.." you said. Your chuckle was like a slap in the face. It was unexpected. Unexpectedly human. Unexpectedly real. And it pissed him off. Made him angry. Angry at himself. Angry at the world. Angry at fate. But mostly, angry at himself for bringing you into this nightmare.

"No, it's not nothing," he growled, his voice low and gruff. "It's everything." You sighed. "Andrei.. it was worth it.. so many missions.. willingly going to the fucking gulag.. getting abducted and tortured during a mission.. fuck.. it was all for you.." you said. Your words hit him like a punch to the gut. Tortured. Abducted. Willingly going to the gulag. All for him. For the monster that he'd become.

"Я не достоин этого," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. 'I am not worthy of this.' You shook your head. "No, you are.. it was worth it.. cause I found you.." Your denial was like a knife twisting in his gut. Found me. Those words echoed in his mind. Over and over again. Like a mantra. Like a prayer. They were soothing. Comforting. They made him feel less alone. Less like a monster.

But they also filled him with guilt. With shame. With regret. Regret for turning you into this. For making you go through all of this. You hugged him once more. But this time it was more for your sake. You needed him just as much as he needed you. Your hug was like a lifeline. It pulled him out of the darkness. Out of the abyss. Even if only for a moment. It felt good. Too good. Dangerous almost.

But still, he allowed himself to enjoy it. To let himself be comforted. Because sometimes, you need to be weak. To let yourself be vulnerable. Especially when you've been hurt as much as he had.

The silence hung heavy in the air. Heavy with unspoken words. Unspoken regrets. Unspoken fears. It was comfortable. Almost peaceful. Almost. His thoughts kept drifting back to those moments. Moments where he was just... human. Not a monster. Not a killer. Just a man. A man who was scared. Who was lonely. Who missed someone. Someone who was sitting next to him right now. The silence was comforting. Familiar. The two of you were sitting on your bed, still in full uniform. "Want something more comfortable?" You asked quietly. Your offer hung in the air between them, a beacon of normalcy amidst the chaos. A simple question. An invitation to shed the weight of their uniforms, symbols of duty, and responsibility. He looked down at his clothes, then back up at you, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"Da," he murmured, standing up abruptly. He began to undress, peeling away the layers of his identity - the uniform, the medals, the badges. Each piece was thrown carelessly onto the floor until he stood before you in nothing but his underwear. You nodded and went to get something more comfortable for him. Coming back, you had an oversized t-shirt and a paid of sweatpants. Which reminded him of something.. fuck. Those were his clothes. His clothes before he joined whatever the fuck he had joined. "Here." You said, handing him the clothes before going to change to something more comfortable, yourself. Your words were like a punch in the gut. A reminder of who he used to be. Of the life he'd left behind. He took the clothes from your hands without saying anything. Slipping into them, he could almost pretend he was back there. Back home. Before the torture. Before the nightmares. Before the pain.

As he watched you change, he couldn't help but notice how natural it seemed. How comfortable. Like you belonged here. Like you were supposed to be here. With him. A man and a woman changed together like it was normal. But it didn't seem weird. It felt normal. It felt like the time before the military. The sight of you changing in front of him, so casual and unaffected, brought back memories. Memories of simpler times. Times before the military. Before the torture. Before the nightmares. Before the pain.

For a moment, he forgot about the scars. About the pain. About the guilt. He just saw you. Naked. Vulnerable. Human. And it was beautiful. It was perfect. The feeling of the soft fabric against his skin was comforting. Familiar. It was like putting on an old pair of shoes. Worn in. Broken in. Perfectly fitting. It was a part of him. Or rather, it was a part of who he used to be. Before. Before the torture. Before the nightmares. Before the pain.

As he sat back down on the bed, he couldn't help but notice how different things were. How strange it felt. Yet, somehow, it also felt right. As you took off your shirt, he could see all the scars. Everywhere. Even your perfectly round tits had scars of torture. Your body was a canvas of pain. Every inch of your skin told a story. A story of torture. Of suffering. Of resilience. But he wasn't looking at the scars. He was looking at you. At the way your body moved. The way your muscles shifted under your skin. The way your nipples hardened slightly in the cool air of the room.

It was a fucking turn-on. Despite everything. Despite the scars. Despite the pain. You blushed as he stared at you. "What are you looking at?" You asked softly, not realizing that he was hard as a rock under the sweatpants. His gaze lingered on your body, drinking in every detail. The curve of your hips. The swell of your breasts. The way your skin glowed in the dim light of the room. He was hard. Rock-hard. But he didn't move. Didn't speak. He just kept staring.

You were beautiful. Perfect. Untouched. And he wanted you. Wanted you more than he'd ever wanted anyone or anything. You noticed his hardness pressing against the material of the sweatpants. "Fuck, Andrei..." You mumbled, biting your lower lip. Your curse made him shiver. Made him want to reach out and touch you. Made him want to take you. Right there. On the bed. Against the wall. Anywhere. Just to feel you. To hear you moan. To taste you. Fuck, to taste you.

But he didn't move. Couldn't move. Not yet. "I need you..." You whispered, closing the distance between both of you. You leaned in and kissed him softly at first, but then with passion. Your confession broke the dam. The floodgates opened. He pulled you closer, crushing his lips against yours. His tongue darted out, exploring the warmth of your mouth. His hands roamed over your body, tracing the contours of your muscles. His fingers dug into your flesh, leaving marks.

And still, he didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Not now. Not when he finally had you. You moaned into his mouth as he explored your body with his hands. You pushed him onto the bed and straddled him, grinding your crotch against his hardness. The shift in positions only fueled his desire. Your weight on top of him, your body grinding against his, it was all too much. He groaned into your mouth, the sound muffled by your kiss. His hands found their way to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh.

He needed more. Needed to feel you. Needed to be inside you. His hands on your ass made you grind harder against his cock. You reached down and pulled down his pants, pulling out his hardness. You stroked it a few times, feeling it pulse in your hand. Your touch on his length made him gasp. Made him thrust up into your hand. He was hard. So fucking hard. Ready. Waiting. Wanting.

His hands found their way to your hips, gripping them tightly. He pulled you closer, aligning his length with your entrance. He was ready. More than ready. Your body was shaking with anticipation. You grinded against his cock, teasing yourself before slowly lowering yourself onto him. Inch by agonizing inch until you were fully seated on his lap. The sensation of you enveloping him was indescribable. He groaned, his head thrown back against the pillow. His hands gripped your hips tighter, guiding you to move. To ride him. To fuck him.

He was yours. All yours. You started moving on him, your body rocking against his. Each movement brought a new wave of pleasure coursing through your veins. You felt full. Satiated. Complete.

And you liked it. God, how you liked it. Each roll of your hips sent jolts of pleasure shooting straight to his dick. He couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. All he could do was feel. Feel you. Feel your body moving on top of him. Feel your walls clenching around him. Your movements became faster, more desperate. You were chasing that climax, that release. You wanted it so badly. Needed it. Craved it. His breathing grew ragged, and his grip on your hips tightened. He could feel his climax approaching, like a freight train bearing down on him. It was inevitable. Imminent.

And he wanted you to feel it. Wanted you to feel him. Your movements became erratic as your orgasm approached. You clenched your teeth, trying to hold back the tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume you. But it was no use. It was too powerful. Too intense. "Andrei..!" You moaned as you reached your climax. Your cry of ecstasy pushed him over the edge. His own orgasm ripped through him, making his vision blur and his breath hitch. He threw his head back, his jaw clenched tight as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

And when it was over, he was left panting. Left spent. Left sated. You collapsed onto him, your body trembling from the intensity of your orgasms. You laid there, catching your breath while your body slowly returned to normal. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. His body was covered in sweat, but he didn't care. He just held you. Held you tight. And for once, he felt... complete. You lay there in silence, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking. You snuggled against him, your body fitting perfectly against his. You closed your eyes, contentment washing over you. For once, he let himself relax. Let himself enjoy the moment. Enjoy you. His arms tightened around you instinctively, as if afraid you'd disappear if he let go. You nuzzled into his neck, inhaling deeply. His scent filled your senses, making you want to stay here forever. You felt safe. Comforted. Loved. His heart pounded in his chest, echoing in his ears. He could feel you nuzzling into his neck, could feel your breaths against his skin. And it felt... right. Perfect, even.

For once, he allowed himself to believe that maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all.

#cod nikto #call of duty nikto #nikto x reader #mwii nikto #nikto #nikto smut #niktor cod #nikto fluff #nikto angst #unprotected sex

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gingiesworld · 1 year ago

Text

We Are Bonded

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf GN! Reader

Warnings: Fluff

AN: This is a one shot I am thinking of making a story for. Except it may be longer than my Nat x Werewolf reader fic. Please let me know if it is something you will want :)

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad (if you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

18+ MINORS DNI

It was no secret that Y/N had an attachment to the witch, although she had something with Vision, who disliked Y/N’s need to be near her. He would scowl everytime the two would cuddle, Wanda loved to run her fingers through their hair and even scratch behind their ear.

“It’s not right Wanda! This moronic claim they have on you is wrong!” He yelled as Wanda was preparing dinner, slamming the knife down as she turned to face him.

“There is nothing wrong with it!” She told him angrily. “Y/N and I are friends! And guess what? Friends cuddle all of the damn time!”

“Wanda.” Vision took a deep breath. “Y/N is a mongrel.”

“I’m a what?” Y/N questioned, hurt laced in their voice.

“Y/N.” Wanda tried as Y/N shook their head, walking away from the witch and Vision. Wanda glared at Vision before speaking. “We’re done.” She told him firmly.

“You can’t be serious?!” He yelled as she nodded, pursing her lips as she looked in his eyes.

“You have disrespected my closest friend.” She told him. “I can’t be with anyone who would hurt them.” Wanda turned away to look for Y/N.

“What about dinner?” He asked her as she turned back to him.

“You’re all knowing. I’m sure you can figure it out.” With that she left the room, wanting to find Y/N as she searched the compound, only coming up empty. She moved to search outside, where she bumped into Natasha.

“Are you ok?” She questioned the witch.

“Have you seen Y/N?” She asked her, ignoring her question.

“No, why?” She asked her, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Vision and I got into an argument.” She started.

“About Y/N I presume.” She said as Wanda nodded.

“Then they overheard him call them a mongrel, then they left.” She told her.

“Ok, let’s find Y/N before I kill Vision.” Natasha told her.

“I’ve already searched inside the compound and they aren't there.” Wanda told her.

“Ok.” Nat nodded as she led Wanda towards the lab. “Tony, we need to search for Y/N.” She explained everything that Wanda had just told her, the two of them watching as he searched for them.

“They left at around 3pm.” He pointed at the screen showing them leaving. Moving onto another camera to see Y/N get tranquilized and put into the back of a waiting van.

“Do you think you can find them?” Wanda asked, worry laced in her voice.

“I can try to narrow it down to possible locations, but that was hours ago. It can take a while.” He told her.

“Just do it.” Nat told him. “I’ll tell the others we have a situation.”

As soon as everyone was notified of the situation, everyone started to make preparations and plans for when Tony has a location.

“Their ring.” Maria blurted out as everyone looked at her confused. “I gave them a ring, they always keep it on and it has a tracker.” She moved towards one of Tony’s computers as everyone watched as she typed away. “So they are now in Virginia.”

“It looks like an old abandoned factory.” Tony pointed to the screen. “So, I should be able to get the blueprints.” He mumbled as he typed away himself. Soon enough everyone was on the jet and going over a plan. “You are staying on the jet Vision.” Tony stated as they neared the location. “We can’t trust that you will make sure Y/N is safe.”

“You can’t be serious?!” He yelled as Wanda laughed.

“It appears that is your favourite sentence.” She mumbled as she moved to stand beside Nat.

“We’ll get them back.” She reassured the witch who just nodded, ready to rain fire if anyone had harmed a hair on Y/N’s head. Once the jet landed safely, everyone ran towards the base, taking down anyone who stood in their way. What they never expected to see was Y/N being tortured in their human form.

“Y/N!” Wanda yelled as she heard them yelp as a whip came down on their bare back. She used her powers to throw the agents as far away from them as possible. “Hey, it’s ok.” She cupped their tear stained face. “You’re safe now.”

“Wanda?” They whispered unsurely. “Are you really here?”

“Yes.” She told them. “Let’s get you home.” She helped them to their feet, with the help of Steve, they hobbled their way onto the jet. Wanda came straight to them with the first aid kit.

“Just give it a moment.” They whispered as Wanda tilted her head in confusion.

“They will heal in a moment.” Maria informed her. “They heal faster than Steve and Bruce, but not as fast as the werewolves heal on those TV shows.”

“Oh.” Wanda was shocked, her eyes watching as the wounds slowly healed before her eyes.

Once everyone was back at the tower safely, Wanda made sure to stay with Y/N, waiting as they showered. Sitting on their bed as she stole one of their hoodies.

“Hey.” Y/N greeted her as they left the bathroom. “What’s on your mind?” They asked as she looked at them confused.

“Since when are you a mind reader?” She teased as they dried their hair.

“I guess I can sense your emotions.” They told her nervously. “I feel when you are happy or sad, I can sense when you are angry or calm.” They threw the towel in the hamper. “I don’t understand this connection we have, I haven’t really come across another of my kind to even learn more of who I am.” They sat beside her on the bed. “But I know I am drawn to you, like we are bonded in some way.” Wanda took a deep breath before looking into their eyes.

“I feel that too.” Wanda admitted. “I just, it’s this feeling I just can’t shake.” Y/N watched her intently as she spoke. “I loved Vision, before you came along, I really did but.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “You have changed something in me, like I feel for you what I felt for him, and I don’t know what to do.”

“We don’t have to do anything.” They spoke softly. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“But I do.” She told them. “I am just not ready yet.”

“That’s ok.” They smiled as they wrapped their arms around her. “I will wait as long as I need to.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #wanda x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #natasha romanoff

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mactavsh · 2 years ago

Text

Situational Awareness

Synopsis: The boys get captured following a lead on Shepherd and it’s up to you to save them before its too late.

Relationships: Task Force 141 x Gender Neutral Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: violence, swearing, mentions of blood/injuries

Note: someone said feral reader so here we are

Masterlist

You should have been with them. You weren't sure if it would have made any difference but you belonged with your team. The previous mission left you with a decent gash along your arm, just enough that you were benched for the current excursion. While the boys shipped out you worked overwatch with Laswell, gathering intel and guiding the boys in the field.

A lead on Shephard and the remnants of Shadow Company led the team to an abandoned factory compound. Throughout the mission, they were in constant contact with the base at least they were supposed to be. Gaz announced they were breaching another building and that was the last contact you received from them.

After a half hour of silence, Laswell started trying to pull up satellite images, anything that could shed light on what happened. Kate managed to get a drone to the area but there was nothing, like they disappeared without a trace.

Two weeks later you finally found something actionable. You led a small team to a safehouse Laswell discovered. After a bit of not-so-gentle persuading, the Shadows there gave up a set of coordinates.

As soon as you were back on base you practically ran to Laswell's office to give them to her. Much to your dismay, she didn't share in your urgency or so you thought.

"That will take too long!" You paced the room, shaking your head as you spoke.

"We can't go in blind, Y/n"

"If we wait any longer they'll all be dead if they aren't already." You stopped in front of her desk.

Laswell sighed and stared ahead at her computer. She had put the coordinates in and was looking at satellite images of the area. "We have their location that's good but it's not enough. We need to get a team together, find building schematics."

"You know as well as I do, not one of them will talk. As soon as Shepherd gets bored they will be killed."

"I can't authorize an op without more information. We need to surveil the building first. Figure out how many people are there, if Shephard is there." She stood from the desk, her tone shifting. "However, I am technically not your commanding officer."

She turned to face the window and you realized what she was doing. You quickly took a photo of the screen, making sure to capture each image before you stepped back.

"I understand." You spoke as she turned back around to face you. "You know how to reach me."

As you turned to leave Kate spoke once more. "Be careful, Y/n."

"I will."

It wasn't hard to formulate a plan, after all, you were recruited by Price for a reason. Your strategic thinking went almost unmatched and your propensity for stealth made you deadly. You waited for nightfall before sneaking off base with all the gear you'd need and some that packed a bigger punch.

The drive was tense as you got closer to your target, you stopped in a clearing a few miles north to avoid detection and hiked the rest of the way. No overwatch and no backup, you triple-checked your gear. There was no room for error here.

The two-mile hike seemed to pass in an instant, your feet carrying you on autopilot through the dark forest. Looking up at the building when it finally came into view you gathered what information you could. Three floors, unknown if there was a basement. One large receiving door and two entrances on the northern and western sides of the warehouse.

Your plan was to use stealth to take out as many Shadows as possible. Moving floor by floor looking for the boys. You knew you would inevitably be discovered, so you'd hoped at that point you would have found at least one of them and that they were in any condition to help you fight.

You decide to enter through the northern entrance. The first objective was to steal a uniform so you could move through the building easier. As you went you were to keep an eye out for weak points, places to set one of the many charges you had brought with you. After tightening the straps of your vest and double-checking the C4 in your backpack, you readied yourself as you moved out of the tree line and toward the door.

Situational awareness. They practically beat it into in when you enlist, it could very easily be the difference between life and death. You thanked whatever high power was up there for granting you a natural affinity for the skill. You were on high alert each cell in your body buzzing, your highly trained eyes scanning the environment for threats.

Approaching the door you turned the handle slowly. Peeking in you checked both directions before entering fully.

The door opened to a long hallway that was empty as you entered. Slowly you moved in deeper, listening closely for movement. The familiar weight of the rifle in your hands was welcome as you delved further into unknown enemy territory.

The rifle however was simply to keep up apprentices while inside until all hell broke loose. Shooting it would attract every Shadow in the building to your presence. You had also attached a silencer to your sidearm but even still the shot could be heard if someone was close enough. Even if the noise wasn't heard, the blood would certainly be noticed. Snapping necks or choking them out was dangerous because you had to get up close but it was clean and quiet. Stealth takedowns are your best option for ensuring no one knew you were infiltrating the base until you wanted them to.

A single set of footsteps could be heard approaching from behind you so you ducked into a closet. Leaving the door open a crack you waited for the Shadow to be in front of it before pouncing. You grabbed him in a chokehold and dragged him back into the closet. He thrashed in your hold but not long before you had enough of a grip to snap his neck. He fell limp and you slowly guided his body down to the floor.

Lucky for you he seemed to be about your size so you made quick work of relieving him of his uniform. You momentarily removed your tac vest to put on the jacket with the Shadow Company emblem. Your vest was already black so it fit in with the uniform. It had seen you through countless missions, quickly becoming an extension of you. Price had given it to you when you joined the 141 and it has been with you ever since. You grabbed the gaiter and helmet next, adjusting them to fit properly over your face, effectively shielding your identity.

You strapped the dead man's rifle to your back for later and brought yours up as you exited the closet once more. Head held high you continued pushing forward.

Turning down the next hallway you paid close attention to the attached rooms. It was quiet, you couldn’t hear many voices if any. You didn’t have time to clear each room but some of the doors had windows allowing you to confirm those particular rooms were empty. You stashed that information in your mind for later.

Footsteps approached from in front of you but you held fast. A Shadow rounded the corner, not paying any attention to you. A plan quickly formed in your head. You waited until he passed you and was standing next to the door of one of the empty rooms before calling out to him.

“Excuse me,” He paused his walking and you approached so you were standing in front of him. “I seem to be a little lost, could you tell me where the armory is?” You lied.

He rolled his eyes and just as he was about to speak you lunged, maneuvering him into the empty room and kicking the door shut behind you. He fell lying on his stomach, so you straddled him and held his wrists against his back. "Where’s the 141?"

He gritted his teeth as he squirmed. "Fuck you, I’m not telling you shit.”

You tutted in his ear. “Is that really how you want this to go?”

“I’m dead either way." He grunted as he struggled beneath you.

“So you’re not entirely stupid then.” You shifted both of your positions so you were on the ground behind him, holding him firmly with your thighs as you pulled his arm at an awkward angle.

"You have a choice here." Your voice was low, calm. "I can kill you quickly and painlessly. Or," You tugged on his arm earning a groan from him. "I can make sure you bleed out nice and slow where no one will find you."

He grunted at the pressure before he spoke. "The Captain is in a cell on this level, south hallway with the Brit two doors down from him."

"What about the other two?" When he didn't answer right away, you pulled on his arm once more, popping it out of the socket.

He yelled in pain and you quickly brought a gloved hand over his mouth to muffle the noise.

You waited for the man to still before removing your hand. He spoke hurriedly as soon as the barrier was gone. "The Scot was being annoying so they pulled him out of his cell and brought him to the top floor. The big guy is there too."

"What's up there?" You shifted again, putting him in a chokehold.

"Interrogation."

“What about Shepherd?”

“He left a few days ago, I don’t know where.”

"Good boy." You patted his head before snapping his neck. You stood and dragged the body deeper into the room, out of view from the door. You planted some C4 in the room before readjusting your gear back into place. Stretching your neck you headed out of the room and toward the southern end of the building.

The building was large and you mentally kicked yourself for entering on the opposite side of where the boys were, not that you could’ve known. The long walk however did give you an opportunity to take out many of the patrolling Shadows as well as get a better idea of stairwells and possible escape routes.

Finally, you entered the hallway in question. There was only one guard stationed outside the doors. Obviously, they didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to storm their castle. You waited until you were right in front of the guard to pounce. Quickly reaching up and snapping his neck then lowering the body quietly to the floor. You pulled the keys off his belt, opened the door, and dragged the body in with you.

The cell was dimly lit and smelled strongly of blood. Price was chained to a chair in the middle of the room. He slowly raised his head looking at the dead Shadow then at you, a weary expression crossing his bloodied features. You pulled your mask down as you approached him.

"Y/n?" He spoke, voice horse.

"Nice to see you, Cap."

He paused squinting at you through a black eye as you unlocked his bindings. After you finished you hooked the keys back onto your vest and stood in front of him.

"Where's your team?" The Captain questioned, finally noticing no other soldiers were with you.

"My team went and got themselves captured."

Price grabbed your bicep as he stood. "Y/n, did you come here alone?"

"Didn't have a choice. You boys were running out of time and Laswell's hands were tied."

"Christ."

"I know, reprimand me later. Gaz is down the hall, Soap and Ghost are on the top floor." You handed him one of the guns you looted off a Shadow. "We're all we got."

He took the gun and nodded. "That's all we need."

You moved toward the Shadow you had just killed, quickly relieving him of his uniform and helmet then handing it to Price. "Can't have you breaking my cover just yet."

"As soon as we have everyone, we're blowing this place to high hell." He spoke as he got dressed, wincing when he tightened the vest over his chest.

"What d'ya thinks in my backpack?" You smirked.

"Remind me to separate you and Soap from now on."

"Aw come on, sir." You feigned offense as you stepped up to the door, pulling your mask back up and preparing to move. You pulled more explosives from your back, carefully affixing them to the wall.

With your back turned you couldn't see the small smile that crossed Price’s features as he looked at you, a sense of pride swelled in his chest. He pulled up his mask as he took position behind you. "Take point, kid."

"Copy." You opened the door, looking both ways before stepping fully out. Quickly you moved two doors down. You unhooked the keys from your vest and unlocked the door.

"I'll watch the hall." Price spoke, closing the door for you as you entered the room.

Gaz's cell was the same as Price’s; same dim light and metallic scent. You pulled your mask down and the scent hit you hard. Shaking it off you moved toward Gaz, his head was limp against his chest, slow breaths could be heard emanating from him.

"Gaz?" You kneeled down and set a hand on his shoulder as soon as you were close enough. Blood slowly trickled from his nose and you assumed it was broken by the new angle it was bent at.

"Come on Kyle, we gotta go." You gently shook him, a light groan left him as he woke.

Bleary eyes met yours as he regained consciousness, a smile forming from cracked lips. "My hero."

You rolled your eyes and smiled at him before gently removing the chains holding him in place and standing in front of him. "Can you stand?"

Tentatively he stood grabbing your shoulder for support. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them, clearer than they were before. "Ready to roll."

The door opened and Price dragged a dead guard in with him. You felt Gaz tense next to you and realized Price still had his mask up, so you addressed him. “Having fun out there without me, Captain?”

Price pulled his mask down and looked toward Gaz who relaxed his grip on your shoulder. "Wouldn’t dream of it. Good to see you're still standing, Sergeant."

"You too, Cap." Gaz let go of you, rolling his shoulders back in preparation for the fight to come.

"Get dressed," You pointed at the Shadow Price just dragged in. "Soap and Ghost are on the top floor."

"Don't you have a squad with you?" Gaz questioned.

"No, they came by themselves." Price interjected.

"Badass." Gaz moved to high-five you.

Price grabbed Gaz's wrist before his hand could meet yours, placing the Shadow's uniform in it instead. "Don't encourage them."

You smiled sheepishly at Gaz as you moved back toward the door. "We should get moving. I've made a dent in their numbers but it's only a matter of time before someone finds the trail of bodies I've left and sets off some alarms." You pulled some C4 from your pack and affixed it to the wall next to the door. "Ready?"

"Got your back," Gaz spoke as he finished getting dressed. Price handed him the gun that the Shadow had been carrying. He pulled his mask back up and you and Gaz mirrored the motion.

You opened the door, the two men falling into step behind you. You lead them to one of the stairwells you’d noticed earlier, it would take you straight to the top floor. You didn’t want to prolong your stay here any longer, neither of the men with you would admit it but you could see the physical toll their time here had taken. They both moved cautiously and you could see a slight limp from Gaz.

After ascending the stairs, stopping a couple of times to plant explosives, you slowly approached the door. You peeked through the small window in the door. The top floor was much smaller than the rest, the door opened to a large room with one door situated to the right, and one guard stationed in front of it. He was a hulking figure, taller than Ghost but leaner. He stood between you and the room that held the rest of your team.

Years of sparring with Ghost had taught you how to fight an opponent who was stronger and bigger than you. He wanted to make sure you knew how to defend yourself in any situation. Mentally, you thanked him as you formed a plan of attack.

"Let me get him out of the way. Keep going," You unhooked the keys from your vest and handed them to Price. "Ghost and Soap should be through that door. As soon as I engage, move."

"Y/n-" Gaz began to protest but you cut him off.

"Neither of you are in any condition to fight him off and we can't make too much noise until we get through that door. That big fucker is the last thing standing between us and them. I'll be right behind you." You pulled three comms from your vest and handed one to Price and Gaz then put the other in your own ear. You pulled out two more and handed them to Price who tucked them into his pocket. "And if we're still doing our dance by the time you're done then I'll shoot him and we can blow these fuckers sky high."

“Shouldn’t I be giving the orders?” Price spoke with no real heat.

“I’m open to suggestions, I’m a just and fair tyrant.” You smiled and Price shook his head.

"We'll be fast," Gaz spoke up and patted your shoulder.

"You better." You spoke as you exited the stairwell and headed straight for the guard.

He stood up straighter as you got close, eyeing you incredulously. “No one is allowed up here. Name and rank?” He spoke, voice stern.

“Ah yes,” You stopped right in front of him. “Sergeant none ya business.” You smiled and could have sworn you heard Soap’s voice from the other side of the door.

“Who’s your commanding officer?” He raised his voice more, crossing his arms as he stared you down.

“That would be Captain kiss my ass.” This time you were sure you’d heard Soap laughing. Deciding not to further press your luck with the bantering you sent a swift kick into the man's crotch. It was a low blow sure but this was Shadow Company and they deserve far worse for their actions in Las Almas. He doubled over and you used your leverage to throw him to the side and away from the door.

“Now, Price!” You yelled into your comm. Quickly the pair ran from the stairwell and toward the door, unlocking it and heading inside.

Your opponent had recovered and lunged toward you, but easily you dodged. Kicking a leg out you knocked him off balance and onto the floor.

It was a momentarily lapse, your mind focused solely on the opponent in front of you, and you didn't notice the one that had just exited the stairs. A shot rang out, then a scream tore from your throat. The bullet lodged itself into your pelvis and you fell backward. The first guard lunged positioning himself on top of you and wrapping his hands firmly around your throat.

“Y/n what’s going on?” Price’s worried voice sounded in your ear but you couldn’t respond. Your body acted on pure instinct then, grabbing your sidearm and firing two shots. One for the man above you and one for the other, both bullets hitting their mark.

The Shadow fell limp on top of you, effectively knocking the wind out of your lungs. Your side screamed in protest at the weight but you were unable to move.

"Y/n, how copy?" Price's voice rang through your ear again as your vision began to blur. Strength slowly left your body as you tried to push the dead Shadow off of you to no avail.

Suddenly the weight was lifted off of you. Ghost and Price threw the Shadow to the side while Soap kneeled next to you. “Y/n you keep those pretty eyes open for me, aye?”

“Doing my best, Johnny.” You wheezed out, the fog quickly leeching into your mind.

He smiled softly at you. “I know.”

Ghost was staring at you behind his mask, worry creasing his eyes. “What’s our exfil?”

“There’s a truck two miles north of here in a clearing.” You spoke, wincing as Soap put pressure on your wound.

"Reinforcements?" Ghost questioned.

Price sighed, "Y/n came alone."

"Bloody hell." Ghost feigned disappointment, despite your current state, he was impressed.

"That's fuckin' badass." Soap beamed at you, squeezing your shoulder.

"That's what I said." Gaz smiled, wincing when he reopened his lip again.

"Stop encouraging them." Price shook his head as he spoke. “Ghost grab them let’s get the hell out of here.”

The conversion sounded further and further away as blood pooled beneath you. You used your last bit of energy to pull the detonator from your vest and handed it to Soap.

“Do the honors would ya?” You breathed out before the world went dark.

Heat radiating in your side brought you slowly to consciousness. Your brain struggled to regain traction in the fog that clouded it. The mission came back to you slowly, the fight, the gunshot, the boys. Panic set in, you didn’t know if they got out. Your eyes shot open as you sat up, violent dots danced in your vision and you could hear movement near you, something beeped incessantly to your right.

A familiar voice entered your ears. “Hey, you’re okay, I got you.”

Calloused hands settled on your shoulders, grounding you. The beeping slowed. “You’re in the hospital on base.”

Your eyes finally cleared and you could see Price standing next to your bed. He gently guided you to lay back down and that's when you noticed the rest of the team at the foot of your bed. Various bandages and bruises littered their bodies but they were alive.

You tried to speak but ended up coughing instead. Ghost appeared in front of you and silently handed you a glass of water with a straw.

“Did I miss a party?” You managed after wetting your throat, voice still hoarse.

“It seems we did.” Soap smiled patting your shin.

“How're you feeling?” Gaz asked.

You shrugged. “Good as I can I guess. Just glad everyone made it out.”

“You did good,” Price spoke. “But don’t ever do that again or I will sign your discharge forms myself.”

“Yes sir.” He smiled at you and patted your shoulder. You knew the statement came from a place of worry. Your infiltration could have easily gone a different route and you could have been sitting in the morgue right now.

Instead, you were surrounded by your found family.

A light atmosphere settled in the room, you watched content as the boys chatted amongst themselves. You laughed at the terrible jokes Ghost and Soap were telling each other. Smiled while Gaz and Price told the story of Gaz falling out of a helicopter for the millionth time. The 141 would live to fight another day and god help anyway who tried to stand in their way.

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader (platonic)#task force 141 #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain john price x reader #mactavsh

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xxresi-rotxx · 2 years ago

Text

Avoiding You- L.S. Kennedy (pt. 2)

It was well into the night when you decided to depart from the base. You had been trying your hardest to get Leon out of your head. Why was he so interested in your lead? Was he upset at the move you pulled?

It didn’t matter, at least you got the satisfaction of seeing his face when you mentioned Ada and how you saw the two of them. It wasn’t entirely the reaction you were expecting though. There wasn’t a trace of anger or embarrassment, but more of shock and shame.

It didn’t make sense in your head at all. Leon was probably the most loyal, down to earth agent you had ever met; it seemed so out of character for him to fall for someone like her. But then again, maybe you didn’t really know him. You definitely didn’t know him the way you thought you did.

You had been walking through the back streets of the city for a good half hour now, making sure you weren’t being trailed. It was close to pitch black out now, the dusk quickly turning into night, and you finally began scoping out your lead.

It looked like an old, abandoned warehouse. Perfect setting for a bioweapon. Almost too perfect actually. It felt off to you; the hairs on your arm standing on end. You didn’t like this feeling; you knew something was wrong and you went on high alert trying to figure out why.

Before you could react, someone was behind you. They made quick work of disarming you & pinning you to them. A hand covering your mouth and an arm around your waist, you slammed back into something solid.

“Relax Y/N, it’s me.” The hold on your body becoming looser.

You forcefully yanked your body away from Leon, a flood of emotions coursing through your veins. Fury, embarrassment, confusion, excitement; it was all so much.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You quietly shouted at the man.

“Look, I would have explained this all to you earlier but you stormed off at base and-”

“And what?” You interrupted, earning an exasperated and tired look from Leon.

“And you really shouldn’t be here alone.”

“And why is that?”

“You know why” Leon’s tone turning serious “I don’t know where you got this lead but it’s right, the bioweapons” he paused to glance at the factory “are right in there. What were you trying to prove by going alone?”

You hated that he could see right through you.

Before you could think of something to say another shadow emerged from the street’s edge. It took every ounce of restraint you had to bite your tongue and hold back the anger you felt just looking at this woman.

“I told you tonight wasn’t a good night Leon.” Ada purred as she got closer to the two of you.

“We were just leaving.” Leon responded, grabbing your arm before starting to walk away.

Ada put a hand on his chest, halting his movement.

“And who’s this?” She asked gesturing to you.

You opened your mouth to respond but Leon beat you to it.

“Nobody.” His voice dripping venom as he spoke. You rarely heard Leon this clipped, angry.

He pushed the two of you past Ada and began walking towards base. Keeping to the street’s edge to avoid unwanted attention, his grip on your arm never wavering.

——————————————————————————

“Mind telling me what the hell this is all about?” Leon asked the second you arrived back at base.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You replied, ice in your tone. This whole situation was so confusing. Was he making things hard on purpose? He was the one who rejected you, not the other way around.

“What Ada?” Just hearing her name leave his lips killed you a little. “She knows more about those bioweapons than we do at this point, she’s been giving me intel on the situation there.”

You scoffed at that.

“Seriously Kennedy? I saw the two of y-”

“Leon.”

His interruption left you speechless.

“What?”

“You keep calling me Kennedy, it’s Leon incase you’ve forgotten.”

If looks could kill you’d both be dead on the spot. Your stares penetrating each other, neither one backing down.

“Okay Leon,” the memory of the last time you said his name haunting you “why not share your intel hm?”

“You think I trust Ada?” Leon scoffed, his voice slighter raising in volume. “I learned a long time ago never to do that. There’s a reason they only ever have me contact her, I’m the only one she won’t immediately betray.”

“I wonder why that is.” You mumbled under your breath, your emotions getting the better of you.

“There isn’t a price I wouldn’t pay to keep those I care about safe Y/N, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy paying it. I figured you of all people would know that.”

You had no response. Starting to feel guilty for saying what you did. Leon would do anything, give anything, to keep you all safe. You knew that for a fact. Your heartache made you forget so much, made you forget everything you had ever known about Leon just to try and ease the pain.

It had been over thirty seconds and you were still speechless.

Leon let out a laugh, “Okay, well”, he turned on his heel, leaving you frozen standing alone in the dark.

You came to your senses and ran to catch up with him, going past him to stand in front of him, blocking his path. To your surprise, he spoke first.

“You know if you really saw us you would have known that much, following a lady’s lead isn’t my style.”

You thought back to when you saw them, Leon against the tree with Ada pressed against his chest, her clearly taking the lead.

“So why then?” You could hear the slight tremor in your voice but chose to ignore it. Avoiding Leon wasn’t going to work anymore, something had to give.

“I already told you-”

“No not about Ada, why did you reject me?” You bit your tongue, trying to swallow it the way you wished the earth would swallow you.

“Reject you?” He asked, voice laced with confusion.

“I tried to kiss you Leon, don’t tell me you don’t remember. I made a mistake clearly, but if you didn’t want me like that you could have just said so.” You broke eye contact with the man to stare at the ground. Had you become a masochist? This conversation was leading you to believe you had.

“I didn’t reject you.” He lifted your chin, locking eyes with you once again.

Had you heard him correctly? You stared deeply into his eyes looking for any trace of insincerity but found nothing.

“You didn’t reject me? Leon you pulled away from me, the message behind that is pretty clear.”

“You don’t get it.” He sighed, leaning his forehead against yours.

You missed him. God you missed him so much. You just wanted to reverse time, forget you ever tried to kiss him. You missed his banter, his scent, his voice, having him by your side for every mission.

“You’re right,” you whispered “I don’t.” Leaning against his forehead gave you some sense of relief. At least he couldn’t see how shiny your eyes had gotten, glistening with unshed tears.

“I didn’t kiss you for multiple reasons, not a single one of them being that I didn’t want to.”

You tore your head away from his to look into his eyes.

“What?�� You spoke, trying to piece it all together.

“Did you not realize where we were when you tried to kiss me? How many people were around?”

“So?”

“So? So I didn’t want people to think that I was using you. That that’s the reason I specifically requested you for each mission I went on.”

“Specifically requested me?”

“You didn’t think that was random did you? That we just happened to get paired for every mission.”

“You requested me?” You spoke like a broken record, he requested you? Specifically?? Every time?! You heart was beginning to beat faster, feeling better with each word he spoke.

“Every time, without fail. I pride myself on a lot of things Y/N, but my self control isn’t one of them.”

You smiled a little, thinking about past memories proving his statement to be true.

“I wasn’t worried about my reputation, there’s no rule against dating other agents in the DSO, but I was thinking about yours. You hear the shit everyone mumbles when Ada’s mentioned, I didn’t want that happening to you. That I would have minded.”

“I was right then?” You asked barely above a whisper, “to kiss you I mean, I didn’t misread you?”

“No you didn’t misread me, in fact I’d been waiting for you to figure it out. But after you tried to kiss me and I stopped it, you went radio silent. Every time I tried to find you or talk to you, you weren’t there. And when you were, you wanted nothing to do with me.”

You thought back to the debriefing, when you saw his steps hesitate, turns out you hadn’t imagined it. Leon broke you from your thoughts.

“I thought maybe you had regret it.”

His eyes were the ones to break contact first, glancing down at his boots before looking back to you.

“I did regret it, but for a completely different reason I assure you.” He smiled slightly at your comment, you continued on “But when we saw Ada just now?”

“I barely trust her with my own life, you think I’d trust her with yours? Better she have no idea who you are.”

Everything was starting to make sense now. You started to feel so stupid thinking of all your wasted emotions and pain. The stupidity you felt was quickly replaced however by pure joy. You were right, Leon did feel something for you.

“I can’t believe I spent all this time away from you and it was for nothing.” You grumbled.

“Well not for nothing”, Leon smirked, staring down at you, “I heard you’re one hell of a shot with a 12 gauge now.”

You laughed, a genuine laugh, and Leon’s smirk grew bigger.

“Let them say what they want about my reputation Leon, I have a feeling they won’t dare.” You smirked back at him.

“In that case…” Leon grabbed your chin and leaned down, his lips connecting with yours. It was so soft, so gentle; his lips meshing with yours so perfectly.

You both disconnected, a comfortable silence hanging between the two of you.

“For a man who doesn’t pride himself on his self control, that kiss was pretty impressive.” You teased Leon.

“You know, teasing me isn’t going to help that so called self control of mine.” He teased back.

“I’m counting on it, Kennedy.” Using his last name on purpose, only fueling the fire.

Leon moved faster than you, throwing you over his shoulder and giving you a slight smack on your rear, earning a squeal from you.

“Where are we going?” You laughed, trying to lift yourself off his shoulder.

He jumped slightly, making you fall back down onto his shoulder.

“Someplace more private”, he responded “I intend on hearing my first name fall from your lips tonight, over and over actually, until I can be sure you won’t forget it again.”

You stopped trying to lift yourself up and surrendered into his hold, after all you had a long night ahead of you….

——————————————————————————

I LOVED THIS SO MUCH😭😭I hope this was the pt 2 everyone wanted! I’ve officially reached over 200 followers here and I’m so flattered❤️❤️I love this fictional man and am so happy I found others who do too😂enjoy my writing lovelies😘😘

(Also sorry if this looks funny, I finished it on my phone)

Taglist: @levisbebe

@momma-vi

@apathetickun

@animesnowstorm

@the-abyss-of-fandoms

@warm-milk-with-honey

@crystaldwightsworld

@lottathoughts

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crushedbyhyperbole · 9 months ago

Text

Cherry Pie Kiss

Slice Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: Out on the hunt, out of state and out of options; with your life on the line, Dean makes a call you're not happy with. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he brings a peace offering.

Haven't read Part One? - Catch up here.

Words: ~3.5k

A/N: This is part 2 of 3 of what started as a short one shot, but someone asked for another slice of pie so I'm here to deliver. There isn't any smut in this part (its all going to be in part 3 😂) but there are graphic depictions of gore, violence and death which is why I ask minors not to read or interact. Reader is female but generic, and obviously has feelings but is kind of stuck in this hate to love him type thing which carries on from part 1. I hope you enjoy the read and are ready for the goonfest and gratuitous smut coming in part 3.

Warnings: gore, death and gruesome depictions of canon-type violence, profanity as standard for my work, bit of angst, bit of fluff right at the end.

***Minor do not read or interact***

Dean Winchester. You hate him. His saviour complex, his unwavering strength, the way he’s so damn selfish though not in the ways that count… But boy, can he wear a pair of jeans. Phew-ee!

You hate that you can’t stop looking at him, leaning on the jukebox of the bar you’re in, feeding it quarters in exchange for some feel-good tunes. Ugh! Asshole!

Tonight had been a tough night. Even Sam was feeling the burn. Out on the hunt, out of state and out of options, the three of you had played a Hail Mary and it had paid off. Those damn vamps had just kept on coming. Sam was down and you were in a bad way with what felt like a hoard of those fuckers piling into the abandoned factory to make a meal out of you all. Starting out, you had all been so sure that you had this little group in the bag but, as per usual with these goddamn things, the plan didn’t pan out.

Dean had dragged you and a semi-conscious Sam into a tight space between the machines. One way in, one way out. You were both toast if you were found and of course you would be found; the vamps had your scent.

Groggily, you watched dean uncoil something from his pocket and string it across the opening at about neck height.

“Guitar string.” He winked at you as if this idea was the best idea he had ever had and should have been plan A from the start.

“We’re fucking bait?” You hissed furiously. No, surely not? Dean would never use his brother as bait. Would he? “Goddamn asshole!” You snarled with as much vitriol you could muster between your gasping breaths and painful ribs.

He just gave you that weary look he had been wearing for the past hour and shrugged his shoulders before pulling out his machete and hiding himself out of sight. “Get ready.”

You brandished your blade and hauled yourself to your feet, ready to fight. There was no point wasting any more breath insulting him. If you got out of this alive, you would have plenty of opportunity to call him all the names under the sun. IF you got out alive.

The first vamps that found you came rushing in, right down the tight alley framed by the large machinery and with a sharp twang, Dean’s trap garrotted them straight through, taking their heads clean off. Of the next three, the wire took the first two but the third approached cautiously despite you calling him to come get you.

Dean ran out from his hiding place and attacked the vamp from behind, slashing at the guy’s thick neck twice in order to cut all the way through. As the body fell you saw why the vamp had stopped – the trap had remnants of flesh and blood along it from its previous victims making it easier to see. You wiped your sleeve along it to clean the bits of hanging flesh off making it almost invisible again. Dean gave you an impressed nod.

Another two vamps fell to the wire but the last one got snagged as she fell, snapping it and making it useless. Well, it was a good idea while it lasted, you thought.

It took you two a little while longer to attract the remaining few vamps who obviously knew something was up. Sam was in no fit state, still groaning on the ground. You were weak and in a lot of pain but you kept swinging your blade, struggling to breathe let alone stand.

The fight had been brutal and both you and Dean were covered in blood by the time it was over. You were on your knees, slumped over a vamp you had had to hack into to remove the head, your blade surely blunt by now. You were ready to close your eyes and give up when Dean pulled you to your feet.

“C’mon,” he said gruffly, “up and at’em.” Helping you out over the pile of decapitated bodies, he hauled a now mostly conscious Sam through the mess.

You had made it to the Impala and, for once, Dean hadn’t grumbled about getting blood on Baby’s seats but throwing a couple blankets down instead. Sam slumped in the front while you crawled in the back, weary and sore. Your eyes met Dean’s in the rearview mirror but yours flicked away immediately, unable to look at him without getting angry. When you looked back so did he, like he knew you’d be looking, and held on, asking if you were okay without actually asking. If he really cared he wouldn’t have used you as bait.

You let your head fall back onto the seat and closed your eyes frustrated by his dichotomy.

After a while on the road, Dean turned the radio on, breaking the silence which opened the door for you to say what was on your mind. Sam hadn’t been bothered one bit by the fact that Dean had used you both as bait, but you were furious.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Dean snapped, frustrated by your anger.

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you and a whole long list of other people. Aint nothin’ new.”

Around five miles out of Crocker, Missouri, Dean pulled into a truck stop complex which had a convenience store, gas station, diner, a small motel and a dive bar. The dawn was still hours away and the need for a couple of hours sleep in a comfortable bed was showing on all three of you. Sam was the cleanest so he made the arrangements; two rooms because there was no way you were sharing a room with that asshole after what he did. You were just as likely to fuck him out of anger as fight him at that point.

You used the showers in the truck stop to clean off all the blood and get into some clean clothes, relishing in the feel of the warm water and decent water pressure. You felt a slight pang of guilt that someone would likely be picking vamp chunks out of the drain in the next couple of days but it passed quickly, it probably wasn’t the worst thing these truck stop attendants had seen over the years.

Refreshed by the shower and a take-out burger from the diner, you decided you needed a drink or five, which sounded good to Sam and Dean – you all deserved it.

So, here you are, several drinks in, pounding another tequila shot, trying not to stare at Dean Winchester’s ass while Sam bids you goodnight and takes himself off to one of the two rooms you had paid for at the run-down motel on site.

It seems as if you’re not the only one with an eye for a firm ass in tight Wranglers; a scantily clad barfly sidles up to Dean and strokes her hand down his back as he plugs his final song into the jukebox. When her hand reaches that ass of his, he straightens and turns, grinning at her with that look you know means he’s going to ride her all the way to dawn.

You can’t watch this. You don’t have the stomach for it, not tonight. You pound your remaining two shots and eat the lime slice, peel and all. Then you’re up off your stool and pushing past Dean and his lady friend, and out into the night where the air cools your heated skin but not your confusing emotions.

In the second of the two rooms, you look at your bruised face and neck in the mirror. No wonder he didn’t look twice at you, you’re a mess. It shouldn’t pain you like it does to think of him with another woman. He asked once and you said no, so that is the end of that. Plus, you hate him, can’t forget that. Still, it gives you some small satisfaction that he now has no empty room to take his new friend to so he’ll have to bang her in Baby, on the bloody blankets. With a spiteful smirk you flop on the bed and fall into a light disturbed sleep.

A loud knock on the door wakes you up with a start. At first you don’t know where you are. So used to your room in the bunker, you had almost forgotten what it feels like to sleep that first night in a new place, never truly resting for fear of attack. It’s only an hour or so since you left the bar and you’re groggy from the tequila and from the waking.

You don’t turn on the lights when you go to the peephole, looking out with your pistol muzzle pushed up against the flimsy wood door. Dean sways on the other side, his head turned as though he’s listening.

“Sam’s in the other room,” you call, clicking the safety back onto your pistol.

“I know,” he grumbles, “open up. I got something.”

“It can wait until the morning.”

“Can’t wait,” it sounds muffled, “owwww!” he hisses.

“What the hell,” you sigh, sliding the chain and turning the handle.

Dean stumbles in with his mouth shaped like an “O” as he slides two bowls onto the unit next to the TV, shaking his hands afterwards as if burned. You close the door and engage the chain out of habit.

“Got you something.” He grins goofily, obviously much more drunk than you had left him in the bar, and you wonder what happened to the barfly. Surely the womanizing Dean Winchester hadn’t banged and dropped her in that short a time?

“It’s two in the morning, Dean.” You wipe a hand down your tired face, lifting your eyes again to see him handing you one of the bowls from the diner.

“Peace offering.” He says with a smile as he pushes the hot ceramic into your hands, his eyes glistening with mirth and the effects of all the whiskey he shot back earlier.

You look at what he brought you and your heart almost stops. It’s a steaming hot piece of cherry pie, drizzled in a large puddle of vanilla custard just the way you like it. You look at his, with his tiny dollop of cream just the way he likes it, and you can’t help but smile.

“Why?” You ask as you sit on the edge of the bed with him in the chair by the TV, the bowl in your hand, spoon loaded with goodness.

He finishes chewing a piece of the hot pie, sucking in air to cool it in his mouth before he replies. “I know you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you admit too quickly but the words are out now whether he believes them or not.

“And I know it’s my fault,” he looks at you with those eyes, “I shouldn’t have made things awkward from day one. So, I’m sorry about that.”

“Thank you.” You never thought you would ever hear Dean Winchester apologise, or what you would say in return.

“I didn’t know how to take the rejection,” he sighed heavily, “especially not from someone I have this amazing chemistry with, y’know? But that’s on me.”

What great chemistry did Dean think he had with you? All the years you had known him, you’d harboured a bit of a crush on him but he always acted like you were one of the guys. When you two crossed paths it had felt effortless to slip into the old camaraderie but he treated you like a sister, a fellow hunter, until you had shown up on his radar this time covered in blood and all kinds of messed up and he’d gotten all pissed and… ohhhh.

“You were right all those years ago when you said hunters shouldn’t get close,” he continues, “I should’ve listened and never asked that question.”

You remember the conversation clearly. It was something you had said because you thought it was what he wanted to hear from you. Younger and more naïve, you had thought that what he wanted was for you to be like one of the guys so you had said the words and hoped that you could remain where you were with him, always close but never at risk of blowing everything. Over time you had begun to regret that decision, and as soon as he started acting like an asshole it had been easy to trade the feelings you had for ones of resentment.

“I wish I never said it. I didn’t realise what I would be losing when I asked.” He looks at you again, beseechingly. “Do you think we can start again? Be friends like before?”

You think about it for a moment but the more you think the surer you are that you can’t go back. You can’t know these things and have these experiences and go back to the beginning.

“No, Dean, I don’t think we can.” Your words are soft but the devastation in his eyes is sharp and painful.

You stand, placing your untouched bowl on the bedside table, and walk towards him. His bowl is empty now, but there’s a little piece of pie left on his spoon when you take it from him. He’s confused but follows your every movement with a mixture of sadness and reverence.

The pie is sweet on your tongue and the way his eyebrows raise when your lips close around the spoon brings a cheeky glint to your eyes. You sit on his knee, wrapping one arm around his shoulders while the other pulls the now clean spoon past your lips. You swallow with a sigh. His hands go to your hip and thigh to steady you as he looks up at you.

You dip your head slowly and he tilts up to meet you, his eyes flicking between yours and your mouth. He tastes sweet just like you do when you lay your lips on his, a soft kiss that is both the testing of waters and the soothing of sharp emotions. He squeezes your thigh tighter for a brief moment and you pull back to see the questioning look on his face.

“But you said…”

You shush him with a finger laid over his lips. “I know what I said.”

“Then what did you mean?” He swallows hard, licking his lips nervously afterwards as if you’re about to pull the rug out from under him.

“I wish I’d said yes.”

#dean winchester x reader kiss #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fic #spn #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester hurt/comfort #dean winchester angst #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #cloudy's writing

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gardenialver · 2 months ago

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Hide and Seek

synopsis - an intense game of hide and seek in an abandoned factory

pairings - 2012!Leonardo Hamato, Human/Humanoid reader it's kind of unclear but close enough

content - fluff, reader is assumed to be flexible

"Leo," You whispered, trying to soften your panting. He hummed as his eyes narrowed on the small hole that provided view to what was occurring outside. "You're crushing me," You managed to wheeze out.

He hummed again before actually paying attention to you, by that point he finally realized that his plastron was pressed against your abdomen, barely giving you enough space to breathe and your cheek that was smushed against his shoulder.

"Oop sorry," And the two of you shuffled once more until you landed in another awkward position. Your legs were hooked over his right shoulder, his arms beneath your back and your cheeks pressed to each other.

The two of you eyed each other before peering through the gap. "Do you see any movement?" He whispered to you and you shook your head. Before you could mutter a proper response a yelp was head surprising the both of you, causing your position to change again.

"Come on Mikey you got caught fair and square," Casey's voice called out and a groan was heard in the distance, a sigh of relief shared amongst the two of you.

"Leo, I don't think this is working out," You noted again, blinking at the poses the two of you were doing. He nodded, you were essentially sitting on his shell, holding on to the beam above you for support.

A hand placed itself on your back, holding you up and you flinched in surprise, a small thud made you jump once again and when you landed this time your back was against Leo's plastron, the two of you in a somewhat intimate position.

You felt your cheeks warm as you realized you were sitting in his lap or somewhat laying in it, you held onto his biceps and placed your head against his shoulder to try and calm your racing heart.

"Sorry, I know it's a bit uncomfortable," He whispered to you, he was leaning over you and you could feel his breath against your ear and cheek, squeezing your eyes shut you shook your head, your hair tickling his plastron.

Nearing footsteps began to make your heart race even faster and you clutched onto Leo's arms as if you needed them to survive, backing further into his chest you covered your mouth with one hand to calm your breathing and as the footsteps became more distanced you sighed and properly relaxed against him.

Only then was it that you realized his heart was also thumping pretty quickly, "Were you also scared?" You quietly giggled and he swallowed simply nodding as a response. "Aren't you a ninja?" You whispered in a teasing tone, "Don't you do Wushu?" He tried to reply but it sounded more like a question than a comeback.

Another got you was yelled and then Mikey's yelps were heard once again as well as Raphael's grunting. That meant it was just you, Leo, and April left in the game, Donnie was found first as he ended up looking at some abandoned machinery in the factory that still worked.

As the footsteps just about disappeared to where the two of you knew where April was hiding from her scampering earlier. You properly relaxed against Leonardo and he shifted as well.

"So what should we eat tonight?" You asked smugly but for some reason he begun to flush, "Wh-what?" You rose an eyebrow, "We're probably gonna win, what should we choose to eat. What were you thinking?"

He shook his head, "N-nothing, uh udon?" "You ever had dim sum?" He rose a brow, "You're gonna love dim sum." You noted and at the sound of returning footsteps you pressed your body closer to him in an attempt to merge into a smaller figure.

"We've checked the entire floor where are they?" Michelangelo's complaints echoed and the two of you stared at each other with hands over your mouths.

"Uh, have you guys tried looking higher up?" Donnie's voice called out from another room, his foot steps also joined theirs as he got closer, presumably done finding the parts he needed.

Hearing that your eyes widened as you made eye contact and you began to take off your shoes, Leonardo watching you confused until you pushed yourself up, hooking your leg around a ceiling beam and hoisting yourself up.

You carefully walked across the beam, crouching to peer down at them as they began scouring the crevices higher up where you two once were. Scampering across you saw Leo copy you and the two of you hopped onto a window sill.

You started to put your shoes back on but unfortunately you decided today to wear your fancy height sneakers that were a pain to put back on. "Ahh why won't my heel go in," You whisper complained.

"Here let me," Leo took off the shoe and held it back with one hand, "What am I Cinderella?" You teased, but even so your cheeks began to heat up. "Th-thanks," You muttered to him, disappointed in yourself at your lack of confidence.

Just at that moment constant yelling caught you off guard but one of the voices yelling was more feminine which gave you the cue that April had been found.

"LEOOOOOOOO, [NAMEEEEEEEEE] COME OUT! UGH YOU GUYS WON" Michelangelo yelled and peeking over all 5 of them were in fact out together, April begrudgingly following behind.

"Yes!" The two of you cheered quietly. "So dim sum?" Leo asked and you nodded, he placed a kiss to your temple "You gave me your word it was good, let's go." He leapt down and after staring for a moment with your hand to your head you followed him down, your entire body feeling as if it was made of butterflies.

#tmnt 2012 #tmnt #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo 2012 #leo hamato #tmnt 2012 leo x reader #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt fluff #tmnt 2012 x reader

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irana5711 · 3 months ago

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Fragility

Word Count: 2.5k

A small fanfic in which you are falsely accused of a crime, and try to clear your name.

Sebastian Solace x gn!reader (who gets their heart broken, kind of)

Contains angst and descriptions related to organs and blood (but no actual gore) and a brief mention of suicidal thoughts if you squint. No comfort or fluff. Critique is highly appreciated!

It was sudden. Unexpected. And obviously, unwelcome. It was a rather funny twist of fate when you discovered those bodies and mindlessly picked up the knife, without thinking about the consequences of your curiosity. It didn't take long before the door was busted open, and a gun fired at your leg. The pain was too much for you to bear, and the sight of uncontrolled blood flow made you feel dizzy. In only a matter of seconds, you were out cold, laying on the concrete as police sirens blared outside the abandoned factory.

A week later, you were found guilty, even after crying and begging the authorities that it wasn't your fault. It was an accident! A coincidence! Yet even with your desperate cries and insistent begging, nothing could be done. It was a heinous crime, yes, and this fact led to you being forced into the cell of a maximum security prison. It was (weirdly) built underwater - dark, cold, and suffocatingly humid. What kind of person could bear this? I mean, even being there was pure torture, both physically and mentally. It couldn't get any worse...

...right? Well, at that time, that's what you felt like. It really was the worst place one could find themselves in, and you wanted to get out. You happened to get that chance, but it was on slightly different terms - execution. A (supposed) criminal like you was far too gone to be wasting resources in rehab, and so, you were scheduled to die. You were given three days to sort out whatever you might have had left in the world of the living, before a guard would pretend to be God and dictate when and how you would take your last breath. Now, comprehending death certainly wasn't easy for someone as young as yourself. What would come after? Is there even something after that? What would happen to your body? Would it hurt? Would someone wait for you on the other side? Anger seeped into your mind as you thought about it. Someone thought of themselves as important enough to force you to give up your life for an act you didn't commit. Someone had total control over your existence, and it frustrated you immensely.

Just as you were about to claim control over the situation yourself (with a pathetic blunt shard of glass nonetheless), a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity presented itself. A facility of the Urbanshade prison was sabotaged and damaged so badly that it could only be destroyed and rebuilt completely. But they needed its lifesource, as it was far too precious to be left behind. And whoever got to it first had the right to leave the prison. It was your chance. Your only chance.

Equipped with an air tank and a wetsuit, you accepted the deal without reading their terms and conditions. You had mindlessly signed the paper that would determine your fate, without even skimming through the pages. Now, the voice of the operative gave you a vague warning along the lines of 'stay alert' as you rummaged through lockers and drawers for what they called 'loose assets'. DNA vials, documents, USB sticks and items that could sometimes be found throughout the facility were instantly shoved in your duffel bag. Something was off, though. The lights flickered once you reached your tenth door, and the hairs on your nape stood up. You approached a locker, but a faint purple glow and a puddle of disgusting slime pooling at its bottom prevented you from opening it. Whatever was in there deserved to remain hidden away. Only two steps forward before an ear-piercing screech made you rush into a free locker. A shadowy mass with an esca hanging from its front passed by you, and through the spaces in the claustrophobic metal box you could see a terrifying face staring straight at you, no matter what angle you looked at it from. With shaky legs, you got out of the locker and made a mental note to stay close to any hiding spots. Your heart was beating wildly and you couldn't breathe. Ultimately, you decided to slump against a wall and rest, even if for a minute. Surely, Urbanshade could wait.

It didn't stop there. The freakish creatures were all over, and the deeper you went, the more you encountered. Squids, sensitive to light, that would chase you if you weren't careful with your lantern, those fish that rushed through the halls in hopes of devouring human meat, a gigantic shark that would mess with your mind and move your muscles. At door 49, you thought you were going to die. You had never prayed to God before, not even when you got sentenced to death, but now you were screaming prayers in your mind as a rotting body with sharp teeth and dozens of eyes peered at you through the locker's spaces while smashing its decomposing body against it. Your muscles contracted painfully as you shook and cried, holding the doors together. Its last push was so hard that the bottom part of the locker caved in and slashed your leg, re-opening your previous gun wound. Thankfully, the monster left, but you barely managed to make it through. You dragged your body to the next door, and the vent on the left side flew open, smashing against the wall. Muffling a scream, you went to inspect the movement. Army-crawling through the dusty tunnel, you found yourself inside a weirdly comfortable establishment. Until the light turned on, that is. A freakishly big, humanoid fish started talking, happily introducing himself and his wares.

'Welcome, welcome! My name is Sebastian. Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you, despite what you might have seen, heard and/or been told. Here is my collection of wares. You can find something you like and just... pick it off my tail.'

To say you were dumbfounded was an understatement. You stupidly gawked at the creature before you, like a lost child in a candy aisle at the local supermarket. It- or, um, perhaps *he* didn't seem to be too bothered by your actively bleeding leg. Hesitantly, you reached for the medkit on his tail, before he suddenly yanked it away.

'And the payment?' he said, rubbing two of his three hands together, his smile cold.

'Payment? I have no money.' you replied.

'Money is useless here. What would I buy with it? I need data. I hope you have the mental capacity to understand what data is. Do you know what a document looks like? Hmm?'

This was a wonderful start, was it not? Injured and ridiculed even at the bottom of the sea. Even if Urbanshade did tell you to secure loose assets, they wouldn't mind you using it to last longer. I mean, you living would guarantee they have more to collect from you, right? And so, you handed the proper amount of data to the fish-man, mermaid, whatever he was, and used the medkit. It felt nice to have something clean on you, even if it was just a cheap bandage.

One thing was undeniable, however - you were exhausted. You had been denied food, water and humanity for at least six hours by that point. And it would be pathetic to die of exhaustion with so many monsters roaming the halls.

Without thinking about what the shopkeeper would say, you sat on the cold ground at the other side of the shop, resting your back against some boxes, and you fell asleep. Urbanshade could have detonated your gear, but you didn't care. You relied on the pity your operative might have had for you. You would later learn (after you woke up, of course) that the SCRAMBLER device on the shopkeeper's back prevented any connection being made around the place. Including your connection with Urbanshade. You could hear a bit of grumbling here, a complaint there as you rested in the shop. You weren't wanted, but you didn't care. Without bothering to ask how much you stayed, you bid goodbye to the mutant and went on with your journey. Unsurprisingly, it didn't take long for you to die to a stray monster, as the lights didn't flicker. While bleeding out on the pavement, feeling the fish crunch on your leg, a comforting warmth enveloped you.

'This is it.' you thought. 'This is how it ends.'

You closed your eyes and hoped God would still love you, even after you doubted him for so long. Let's be fair, you still did doubt him, but maybe you'd be met with mercy and understanding when crossing to the afterlife, if there even is one.

When you opened your eyes, you were sat at a table, in a dark room, as a snarky comment was being spat at you by none other than the strange shopkeeper.

'Out of sight, out of mind, wink wink nudge nudge...'

A document was slid to you, some parts redacted, and some available for reading. It was a report on the creature that mangled you. Questioning how you cheated death was too taxing on your psyche, and you found that you couldn't talk to the shopkeeper. Was this the Purgatory? Maybe. But it surely wasn't the end.

It was only your first run. Each and every time, you cheated death, sometimes even before reaching the shop. But when you did reach it, you always talked to Sebastian. You bought his file. You read and you cried for him. You opened your heart to him and told him about your troubles while he awkwardly shifted around and offered you a small discount on a flashlight, mostly out of pity. Even if it was sometimes stiff and awkward, it was... nice. Comfortable. You felt excitement everytime you crawled through the vents and opened doors. Soon you could safely say that you were doing this just for him, and not for the lifesource. No, the crystal was a secondary goal. You felt free with him. With your friend. With your best and only friend.

Your heart soon began fluttering at the slightest reminder of him. Sometimes, the intercom voice sounded like him, and you had to stop for a moment to regain your thoughts. Your feet felt cold and your hands were freezing when you talked to him or rested on his tail. You nearly felt your very soul shattering into billions of pieces when you saw his ring. He looked at it so lovingly. So warmly. So... You couldn't think about it any longer. Your skin felt like it was being pricked with needles, your ears were burning and you could swear you felt your organs pulsing and contracting everytime he talked about her. You wanted to claw at your stomach and tear out your insides. You felt disgusted. With him? With her? With yourself? You didn't know. Yet everytime you left the shop, you were trembling and sobbing. You were aware it couldn't become what you wanted it to become. The circumstances were too complicated, and even with an incredible amount of work, you couldn't have gotten him out. And even if you did, you knew he'd go back to her, and you'd be left alone again, suffering even more than right now. No, you couldn't bear giving way to yet another unfortunate event.

The only solution was to avoid his shop. You'd be quiet with your footsteps, tiptoeing when you saw the vent flying open, and you'd always have a code breacher to avoid having to go in for the keycard. You were pretty sure he couldn't recognize you in the darkness of your death room, and for that you thanked whatever deity was looking over you. Even if you were badly wounded and losing blood, you would rather turn the facility upside down, destroying lockers and throwing drawers in search of even a bandaid. It hurt so much that you felt every drop of blood traveling in your heart when it started beating.

Another idea wormed its way into your scrambled mind: confess. You'd confess, get rejected, and move on. So simple, so effective. You hadn't felt so enlightened ever since you understood optical physics, and it was great feat back then. Determined, you stepped into his shop for what you didn't know would be your last ever run. Luckily, you had found a forgotten notebook and a pen in an office, and started writing down your troubles to calm yourself. You needed your mind to be clear. If any dark thought crossed you, it would all crumble. You'd chicken out and suffer more, and you swore to yourself you'd never feel that miserable ever again. The viscous ink stained the paper as you poured your heart out on the pages, talking about your infatuation and your hurt. After you were done, you stood next to the table, looking at the pathetic text plaguing a perfectly fine notebook. If someone were to find it... No. Without a second thought, you took it with you and stuffed it in your bag, along with an incredible amount of data. When you reached his shop, you gave him all of your research without buying anything, and you opened your mouth. It was an embarrassing word vomit that happened that day - unstoppable rambling about how great he is, how perfect, how beautiful and how painfully unachievable. You saw how he looked at you, his eyes pleading with you to stop as he fidgeted with that fucking ring. Your mouth closed when he yelled at you to quiet down, and reminded you of his undying love for his wife. You had been quite selfish to want him for yourself, that's what he thought. And maybe he was right. Your ears rang through the silence that came after, and without any further interaction, you crawled back through the vent and left. Somehow, it went worse than you had expected. Somewhere deep down in your messy head, maybe you had wanted him to be softer. Maybe you had hoped he felt the same, even though your confession was to confirm the other side. Maybe you hoped he had forgotten about her. But he didn't. You weren't special, yes, you had always known that, but now it stung you so deeply and so badly that your nerves were on fire. Your act was self-deprecating to its core, but only now you were acknowledging how rough it was on your psyche.

You pushed forward, and without hearing the screech behind you, a pink angler forced you into the wall and sank its unforgiving fangs into your back. This time you didn't make a peep, not registering the physical pain. You'd die for the last time just as you did the first - to the same monster, with the same hopelessness, on the cold floor. Like an animal.

As you took your last breath, you knew that this was it. This time, it felt real. It felt warm and welcoming, just like his shop did in the past. It was such a bittersweet moment, and you found yourself yearning for death. You could have hid, but you didn't. In the end, you died on your own terms, and you weren't angry anymore.

#pressure roblox #sebastian solace #sebastian solace pressure #sebastian solace x reader

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 9 months ago

Text

“If You Don’t Look Good, We Don’t Look Good” - Dean x Reader

Rating Explicit

Dean x Reader

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Humor, Shameless Smut (I got carried away), Cameo Appearance by Soft!Dom Dean, Unprotected Sex

Word Count: 4200

You and Sam had decided on a code to use in the most grievous, world-shattering of situations.

Full Dean Meltdown

Neither one of you have had to use it – until you get a text from Sam. A case has gone all kinds of awful for Dean. You are not ready for the version of Dean you have to face in the aftermath.

Notes: This is total self-indulgence because I miss This Dean.

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Hair Pulling" square.

Image created in Canva (links for photos used - found on Google: Jensen Ackles, Liverpool Comic Con, 2023; Jensen Ackles Photo Shoot

You stare, mid-muffin chew, at Sam’s text.

“Fuck me.” A few stray crumbs and a rogue blueberry land on a page of lore you should probably be more careful with. But you can’t be bothered with MOL reference handling procedures at the moment.

This is Red Alert. Defcon 5. Designated Survivor Mode Activated.

You and Sam had decided on a code to use in the most grievous, world-shattering of situations.

Full Dean Meltdown

“Fuck.” There’s no point in continuing to curse to yourself. “Fuck.” But you can’t help it. Neither one of you has ever had to use it before. You’d come close a few times.

The book is forgotten, pushed to the side on the table surface. Your fingers glide over the phone’s keyboard.

Is he alright?!? What happened? Please, tell me this is a joke?

I wouldn’t joke about this. Sam’s words bubble up, line by line. Well, I made the mistake of joking right after it happened. It’s gotten progressively worse the entire drive back. He hasn’t said a single word since we got in the car. IDK what’s gonna happen.

“Fuck.”

Should I evacuate? How much time do I have?

Just pulled into the garage.

Shit, Sam! Do you not understand how a code word for disaster preparedness works? One needs enough time to actually prepare for the disaster!

You wait. More bubbles. Then nothing. Maybe Sam didn’t make it out alive. Maybe you should make a run for it through the war room and up the stairs. Save yourself.

I received some communication. He’s headed straight for the showers. Meet you in the lab.

“A what?”

“Musca.” Sam sighs. “Ever seen ‘The Fly’?”

“On cable years ago, filtered through my fingers.”

Sam continues. “They secrete this sticky goo to build a nest.” His mouth crinkles. “Dean landed in it.”

“The nest?” you ask.

“The goo. A puddle of the stuff. Monster fluids freak him out.”

You shiver in disgust at the thought. “Fuck creature feature fluids. 100% in agreement.”

“So, we tracked the musca to its hideout in an abandoned factory. We split up when we got inside…”

“Why do you always split up?” you ask, following it with a frustrated groan.

Sam purses his lips and then proceeds. “When I found him, he was basically glued to this massive conveyor belt holding the goo like it was a kiddie pool. I had to cut him out of most of his clothes to free him.”

The thought of a half-naked Dean has you shiver for other reasons. “Poor guy,” you add in an effort to express sympathy over your dirty thoughts.

Sam chuckles.

You straighten with worry Sam has figured out your crush on his brother. Ready to dispute any yearnings, you add a grumbly edge to your voice and the question. “What was funny about any of that?”

Sam fists long strands on the right side of his scalp high in the air. “Even his hair got stuck to the belt. I had to hack half of it off.” He fingers his bangs back into effortless waves. “Once we killed it, Dean mumbled, ‘Vidal Sassoon you ain’t, fucker.’”

You shrug, confused. “Well, I mean, I get the trauma from the nasty gnat excretions. But that doesn’t explain why you had to warn of a possible Dean disaster.”

Sam’s gaze tears from yours to stare at the floor by his boots.

“Sam?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I might have said something like, ‘We can’t all be masterful hunters with glorious locks.’”

You frown. “Sam…”

Sam raises a hand in defense. “Hey, maybe now he’ll finally shut up about my hair being a liability. I mean, hello, I’ve still got mine.”

The temptation to knock on Dean’s bedroom door is great. But you refrain, hiding away in yours instead. He’ll be better in the morning, you decide. Especially if you fry up some bacon.

A light rap of knuckles against mahogany distracts you from the latest show binge on your laptop. You pause the action. “Yeah?”

“Got a minute?” Even with the question, Dean’s tone sounds like a command.

You gulp. “Sure.” Rotating in the seat, your hand grips the top of the backrest. You’ll try to hold the line against the Dean Winchester Offensive.

The door swings slowly on its hinges. Dean slinks into your space. It’s the opposite of his usual bluster and humorous bellows that lead to inevitable laughter on your end. His slippers shuffle along the tile. He’s wearing roomy sweats and a dark t-shirt that hugs his torso. A folded towel is wedged into the crook of his arm.

Your brain locks onto two things that appear off about Dean. The first thing totally out of place on the masterpiece before you is the baseball cap.

In the next second, you remember why he’s wearing it. It’s not because he’s undercover as a delivery driver or Fish and Wildlife Game Warden.

Dean does not want you to see his hair in its current state.

The second thing makes your pulse quicken. His beard is… gone. You can’t remember the last time you saw him even close to clean-shaven. You forgot what that sharp jawline used to do to your insides.

“Hey.” You don your best don’t-let-on-to-anything smile.

Dean scrutinizes you as if you are a witness in his rapid-fire way and then huffs. “Son of a bitch told you, didn’t he?”

You decide not to remind Dean he and Sam share the same mother. “He did. I’m sorry. You okay?”

The door clicks shut. “I’ll live. Sam might not see the light of day, though.”

You ignore the murder threat, instead focusing on a new scent in the air. You sniff, nostrils flaring with the deep inhale. Dean smells like he’s working on an amazing beach tan.

He nods at your reaction. “Coconut Oil. I had to use all that was in the kitchen for…” He circles his lower body with a finger and eventually points to the baseball cap.

“Did it do the trick?”

“Better than I hoped. I even got all that nasty shit out of my hair.” His weight shifts from one foot to the other. “But I need a favor.”

“At your disposal.” Still seated, you somersault your hand as if addressing royalty.

That at least cracks a tiny smile into his serious veneer. “I had to take a razor to my hair and cut it pretty short. Can you clean me up in the back?”

You clutch your chest and gasp in the most dramatic fashion you can muster. “You trust me to touch your hair?”

“I trust you with my life, wiseass.” Dean smirks. “Can the sass and help a guy out, would ya?”

A warmth blossoms in your heart at Dean’s words. The heat spreads to your skin. You wave a hand at the towel and clear your throat. “Those the accouterments?”

Dean quirks a brow and grins. “Croutons?”

“And you call me the wiseass.” You sigh.

He shrugs with a nod in agreement. He drops the towel on the desk and lifts one of the corners to reveal the electric razor inside.

“Okay. Here’s as good a place as any, I suppose.” You rise from your seat, close the laptop, and move it to your dresser.

“You sure? We can go to the bathroom.” He thumbs at the door.

You wave a hand at the chair you vacated, now standing behind it. “Here’s good.”

Dean sits. The wooden chair creaks.

“Towel.”

Dean grabs the razor before passing the towel. You flap the fabric, channel your inner toreador, and let it billow over Dean’s frame like a sail. When it settles, you wrap and tuck it into the back of the collar.

Moments like this are pure indulgence. Getting within close proximity of Dean years ago left your brain unable to process the simplest tasks. Breathing. Blinking. Talking. Eventually, you got a handle on your senses. Now, you could treat yourself to the experience of him on occasion in a myriad of ways. No one had to be the wiser that the mundane helped create many fantasies.

“Razor.”

Dean chuckles, presenting you with the razor over his shoulder. “It’s not surgery.”

“Hey, appreciate the seriousness with which I’m embracing this endeavor.” You step to his left. “Dean?”

He lifts his head to peer up from under the brim of his cap. “Yeah?” His blinks emphasize the question.

All that does is force you to focus on his pretty lashes and the eye color he’s daring you to try and describe in your head. The cheekbones and the manicured five o’clock shadow aren’t helping matters either. You swallow and remember what’s supposed to happen next. “Can’t do much with that hat on your head.”

“Oh. Right.” He sighs. “Just, no laughing, alright?”

You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze softly in confirmation. “No laughing. Promise.”

Dean exhales. You suck in your lips and hold your breath. He closes his eyes and peels the cap off.

You stare dumbfounded.

“Say whatever you gotta say,” Dean mumbles with scrunched features and shut lids.

Your vision clouds. Heart races. “It’s…”

“Awful,” he interrupts.

“Perfect,” you whisper.

Eyes open at the word. His gaze shoots up to meet yours. “Huh?”

Gone are the 90s dreamboat bangs he’s been growing out and tending to since 2020. In their place are a couple of directionless inches that need gel after the scrubbing, clipping, and hat matting. The Musca goo must have done most of its damage around the sides and back. In those areas, he’s shaved it short and close, done his best to fashion a fade that you imagine was muscle memory for him even after all these years. You eye the spot at the base of his skull that needs to be cleaned and tapered.

You’re blinking, fighting back tears, utterly speechless.

Dean stares, total confusion lining his face. “Are you crying? Why the hell are you crying?” He taps the top of his head. “Shit… is it that fucking of a fiasco?”

“No.” You cover your mouth at the possibility a nervous laugh might spill out, which will only irritate him further. Moments pass as you struggle to steady your breath.

“Well, what the hell is it then?”

Dropping the hand covering your mouth, you beam down at him. “It’s you.” You could care less about what you were supposed to do with the razor in your hand. Instead, you perch your ass against the desk so you can lean back and take him in.

Dean’s eyes widen. You’ve seen that look of concern many times. “Yeeaaah. It’s me. Who else would it be? Do I need to get Sam?”

Your head shakes in amazement at the vision. “I haven’t seen this Dean since… damn, since before the pandemic. Since you and Sam made that bet, remember?”

“Gonna have to be a little more specific. Sam and I make lots of bets.”

“The one about you being unable to resist the temptation to take a razor to your hair during lockdown. I don’t even remember what the stakes were.”

Dean contemplates. “Hm. I haven’t got a clue. That was like, what, four years ago.” His lids shade the dark green of his irises. “This Dean?”

You nod. Your breath hitches at the swell of emotions rising. “The guy I first met.”

Dean shifts in the chair and leans forward. Every furrow and crinkle on his face melts away. His eyes appear to double in size as he waits for you to continue.

“My hero.” The whisper is a physical manifestation of how vulnerable and exposed you feel at Dean’s silent interrogation method. You press on. “The one that risked his life to save me… forever ago.”

He lifts one side of his mouth in a lopsided grin. “Sam was there, too, you know.”

You laugh. Cheeks warm at the adorably smug reaction. “Yes, you’re right. He was.”

Dean shakes his head. “Sam’s had the exact same haircut for years. I don’t see you crying every time you lay eyes on him. He’s a walking reminder of the guy you first met.”

“But he’s not you.” In your haste to provide an explanation, you realize you’ve said too much.

Dean’s mouth opens a fraction. His brows downturn. He’s working it out in his head in real-time.

You’re terrified.

A new smile forms. You think you spot a blush on his cheeks. “What else do you remember about this Dean?”

You shrug and tear your gaze from his. You don’t want your words to betray you again.

“Hm.” Dean rambles off a laundry list. “A lot of brooding back then, wasn’t there? I was a really good brooder. Hard to figure out? Distant, too, right? Definitely knew what was best for everybody. Stubborn jackass.”

You remain silent.

“Okay, still a stubborn jackass.”

You giggle. He joins in with a chuckle. Your anxiety eases and you find courage to look at him again.

“We’ve all changed in different ways, I guess. You, for example.” Dean gestures in your direction.

You stiffen. This could go many ways. You aren’t ready for any of them.

“You don’t take any of my shit, for one.” He raises a finger. “You're confident. You speak your mind. You have a life outside of these bunker walls.” Four fingers are on display for a while. He smiles and elongates his thumb. “But you still make this your home.”

“Every second of the life I’m able to live is because of you guys. I owe you everything. I’m lucky you let me make this my home.” You reason.

Dean’s smile drops. The open palm clenches into a fist and rests on his thigh. “You don’t owe us anything.”

“You and Sam did all that for me without batting an eye. You didn’t expect anything in return. You and Sam gave me so much more than I could ever repay. You gave me a second chance. You gave me a home.” You shrug and smile. “You became my home.”

He studies the floor and smirks, stating more to himself, “Not the only long-standing bet I’ve lost to Sam today.” Dean inhales and sits tall, focusing back on you. He nods, slow and calculated. “So, perfect, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t get a big head.”

“A little late for that.” He grins and reclines back. “Would you go so far as to say this Dean” – he sweeps his hands in front of his figure in a dramatic gesture – “is irresistible?”

You exhale. “I don’t know if I’d say irresistible.”

He licks his lips. “Whew. Well, that’s good. I mean, otherwise, you’d have the same problem I have.”

You drop the razor on the desk and cross your hands over your chest. “What problem would that be?”

A heated gaze, beginning at your socked feet, rakes over you with his answer. “How much I find every fucking thing about you irresistible. You could shave your head and wear a potato sack, and I’d still have to keep my feelings in check.” You're practically on fire by the time his eyes lock with yours. “Every goddamn second of every day I’m around you.”

“This would be one of those times I don’t take any of your shit,” you scoff and squint back.

It’s his turn to clutch his hand to his chest. “You think I’m lying?”

“I think you’re having a little too much fun at the expense of my soul-baring.”

“Wanna bet?”

Dean’s voiced that question countless times. Tonight, though, certainty laces his words.

He seems to take your silence as the only needed response. “Kiss me.”

“Wh-hat?”

“If you think you can resist, kiss me, and it’s a one-and-done.” His brows lift. “But if you can’t… Well, I might not leave this room anytime soon.”

“That doesn’t sound like a wager. More like a dare.” You straighten your stance. “Besides, you’re assuming…”

He grumbles out an interruption, “Sounds like somebody’s stalling.”

Your mouth snaps shut.

“Maybe we both take the armor off for a night. Take a chance on something that could be awesome.” Dean posits. His hands rub the cloth atop his thighs. “I can make it awesome.” The tone is low and promising. “If it helps, I’m this Dean tonight. We can worry about that Dean tomorrow.” He smiles, reaches a hand out to you, and nods in encouragement.

He’s struggling to play it cool, keep his emotions in check. You’ve seen this Dean before. He’s inhaling and exhaling fast through his nose. His jaw clenches and it cracks your resolve even further.

You drop your shield and let this Dean win you over.

You melt, wrapping your fingers over his. This Dean’s touch electrifies every cell and awakens every dormant hope you had put to rest. He tugs you into his space. His lead forces the parting of your legs in order for his thigh to slot between. You hover. Your chin drops to your chest while his chin tips up high to hold your gaze. His body heat pulses off him like a vibrational energy. “Kiss me.” It’s the sweetest and softest request you’ve ever heard this Dean utter.

Your fingers trace along the freshly shaved hair over his right ear. It’s slippery and smooth in one direction, scritch-scratchy in the other. You can study every battle scar on this handsome canvas. No bangs of curtains or overgrown beard can hide them from you now.

His lips part and release a deep sigh. Your fingers slip down his neck. Warm hands rest on the curve of your hips.

“I won’t be able to resist you,” you whisper.

“Good,” he hums. He’s guiding you with a firm grip to straddle his thigh. Then, there’s an encouraging push with a large palm and splayed fingers against the middle of your back. The sweet smell of coconut hits. Your gaze zones onto that bowed top lip. The way the plump bottom one parts from it to grant entrance.

Dean huffs an impatient groan you are all too familiar with. “You don’t kiss me in the next five seconds, I’m gonna kiss you.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?” you tease.

“More like a warning.” His voice is gruff and deep.

You hold back a moan at the sound, then dip down and do as you’re told.

Everything about the kiss is eager and rushed. Together you’re a tangle of limbs and fever pitch need. You’re pressed tight and right to his body - all muscle-tense and trigger-ready. His lips respond in kind to your every brush, swipe, and nudge for more and more.

“Gonna take such good care of you,” he murmurs through the kiss.

You gasp in satisfaction at the intention.

His lips skim to your jaw, under your ear, then down your neck. “I gotta know that’s what you want.”

“Yes, Dean.”

Another hum thrums against your skin. You shiver as fingers creep under the hem of your t-shirt. His nose nuzzles along the frayed v-neck collar. He cups your breasts under the fabric. A thumb and finger twists one of your nipples even more erect. Teeth scraping and tongue lapping over the other fabric-covered nipple draw a strained moan out of your throat.

Soon the shirt is tugged hastily over your head for removal. Then you feel his mouth and hands all over your breasts again, unencumbered.

You’re a panting, heaving mess riding his thigh like you’re on an X-rated carousel. You arch your chest into his face. He’s slurping and sucking your nerve endings into the stratosphere. He pops a tit out of his mouth long enough to order, “Yeah, come for me so I can fuck that nice wet pussy.”

Dean staring at you, commanding you to come for him, is the tipping point you need to orgasm hard and fast.

“Yeah.” He grabs a fistful of your hair and clamps his mouth to yours. “Gonna feel so good around my cock.” He steals every gasp of air you expel with his inhales.

You’re tingling all over. He peels you off his thigh to sandwich his standing body to yours. He towers over you. He’s stiff and erect in his sweats, pressed into your lower tummy. His hands sweep up and down the channel of your spine.

“This Dean’s got a lot to make up for.” His tongue licks at your lips. “But I gotta be inside you right now.”

You nod. “You got five seconds to get me naked and on that bed.”

Never let it be said that Dean Winchester is not up for a challenge.

The chair behind him is now careening towards the bedroom door on all four legs. You scream-giggle as he lifts you into the air while he twirls, then tosses you onto the mattress, bouncing at the impact.

The sound of the chair crashing and toppling into a corner does nothing to distract you from watching Dean tunnel out of his t-shirt, kick off his slippers, and hopscotch out of his pants and boxers. His hard, thick cock springs to attention.

Fuck. You want every inch of that deep inside you.

He hooks his fingers onto the hem of your pants and manages to pull your socks off along with them. Kneeing onto the bed, he croons, “Been wanting you for so long, baby.”

Your head falls back into the cushion of the mattress, woozy from Dean’s actions and confession. “Probably been wanting you longer.”

Your panties are off and tossed over his shoulder next. “You don’t gotta wait anymore.” He grips under your knees and drags you to him. He slides over the wet heat of your folds and hisses, “Wanna fuck you without a condom.”

You whimper, “Just fuck me already.”

He smiles, grabs his cock – that must be fitted with a pussy homing device – and pistons into your entrance without any further mother fucking ado.

You gasp at the searing heat and sharp pain of him stretching you open. But he doesn’t stop fucking you. He’s minding how your facial features accept the brunt of each thrust and the agonizing slow release of his cock. Over and over. His descent is just as slow as he fucks. But eventually, your legs clamp around his waist and he wraps you in an embrace. Chests plastered together, moaning into each other’s mouths.

Your fingers inch into what remains of his bangs. You pull at the hair and Dean groans out, “Yeah.”

It’s lovely and languid for however long you both have the patience. The feel of him everywhere and inside is something you don’t ever want to end. But there’s a second orgasm building. The thought of Dean spilling into you has your walls clench in impatience around his cock.

“Fuck,” he grunts, face tucked along your neck. You lift your head up to enjoy the view of his undulating back and curvy ass clenching and raising as his fucking gains momentum. You pull at his hair again. “Fuuuck.”

He stills, turns to stone, and you feel his cock pulse and warmth spill inside. Moments later, a hand wedges between your bodies to thumb your clit and trigger your second orgasm.

You cry out his name.

“I got you, baby,” Dean whispers into your ear. And he does. Not letting go and practically swaddling you with his body. The sexiest weighted blanket on the planet.

You smile and stroke – instead of pulling – at his hair. “Who’s got me exactly? This Dean or That Dean?”

He sighs, sounding winded. “You get all the versions. Whether you like it or not.”

“I’d like that very much.”

He leans back to stare at you. “Yeah?” He’s red and flushed and the happiest you’ve ever seen him. “Even if I grow my hair out again?”

You nod. “Yeah. More for me to pull.”

Dean groans and flops to his back beside you, chuckling.

You listen to the rhythm of your collective breathing slow down and regulate. His fingers brush along the flesh of your thigh. “Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Earlier, you said something about losing two bets to Sam today. What was the other one?”

“Asshole told me you had a thing for me years ago. Let’s hold off on telling him he was right, or I’m doing his laundry for an entire year.”

“I don’t think we have to tell him anything, Dean. I’m pretty sure he heard everything.”

“Hm. You’re right.” He’s up on an elbow, staring down at you. “Maybe text him that code thing? That might get him out of the bunker for a while.”

You blink. “Code?”

“Don’t play coy now.” Dean shakes his head. “But what’s the ‘66’ mean?”

You bite your lip.

He waits.

“It was Sam’s idea.”

He waits.

“The 66 Seals.”

Dean cringes.

You shrug. “Too soon?”

“And he says I have a twisted sense of humor.” Dean yawns. He finds the edge of the comforter you both are lying atop and tosses it over your naked bodies. “So, will you still clean me up in the back? Maybe wait until morning, though?”

“Absolutely.” You snuggle into his chest, secure that Dean will wake up next to you in the morning. “If you don’t look good, we don’t look good.”

It takes a beat before Dean responds with a teasing smack to the back of your head, followed by a kiss on your forehead. “Wiseass.”

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