#on one hand i'm sorry i hurt them. i know it hurts

[noctiva]

Flesh + Blood

toby rogers x f!reader [NSFW!]

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WC: 10.1k

Summary: toby usually tries to keep the more violent aspects of his life out of your line of sight, but after a mission gone awry you get a taste of his true self. literally.

CW: 18+ content, filthy dirty nasty shit, descriptions of violence and gore, rough handling, masochistic tendencies + just masochism in general, heavy sadism, biting, blood kink!!!, marking, dead dove don’t come at me, explicit sexual content, unsafe sex, creampie, hair pulling, degradation but also praise (kinky ver. of hurt/comfort), rough oral sex, dirty talk, dacryphilia, CNC if you squint, toby being mean in a hot way, reader is a fuhREAK

Reminder to separate reality from fiction! Some of the acts written here are definitely not recommended to imitate. Be safe!

[also, if you can speak german I’m sorry lmao I used google translate ε-(´∀｀; ) if you can’t speak it just highlight then hit translate!]

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NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

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You had known Toby had a bad day before he even walked through the door.

The morning, had been like any other. Your boyfriend waking you up with soft, sleepy kisses against your neck, your limbs tangled with his beneath the covers. His soft hair tickled your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin as the morning sun shone through the window of the cabin you called home.

"Gotta g-go out today." He had murmured, voice thick with sleep and gravelly - his stubble scratching gently against your jaw. "Boss's orders."

His hands had slid up your body, under the loose t-shirt you had worn to bed - his calloused palms a soothing abrasiveness that quickly smoothed over any disgruntled thoughts about him leaving for the day. Up your stomach, over your ribs, resting just under the swell of your breast to feel your heart beat beneath his touch. "Don't worry, it's an e-easy job. Should only be gone f-for an hour or two."

You had reached up, threading your fingers through his messy, chestnut brown hair - knotted with bedhead, but still so soft as the strands slipped through the gaps. You nodded softly, pulling him in closer, murmuring a gentle 'be safe' next to his ear before pressing a kiss to the lobe.

And Toby had laughed, a sweet, honey-like sound before he lifted his head to look at you proper through his half-lidded eyes. "You-You're sayin' that t-to me?" He had chuckled, a cocky, yet boyish grin stretching across his lips.

God, that smile. It did something to you every single time. How his eyes crinkled up at the corners, and that one dimple that sunk into his unmarred cheek. His teeth, crooked and chipped from too many blows to the face, had a unique quality to them that left you charmed. Every imperfection on Toby, was perfection to you. Even the left half of his face, mangled and scarred, flesh torn from gums to leave his back molars on display at all times.

Grotesque, to most, but to you it was simply captivating. Just another special quirk in the sea of things that made up the man you loved. "You fuh- forget who you're t-talkin' to?" He had chastised you lightly, raising an eyebrow. "Baby, I am the danger. You- You know that."

You did know. But it was so easy to forget, when he was so sweet on you.

"Yeah, I know." You had hummed back to him. "I just forget sometimes, because you're so nice to me."

A little snort of a laugh left Toby, and he rolled his eyes, just before leaning down again to press a gentle kiss between your eyebrows.

"Remind me to j-jog your memory sometime." He had huffed softly. "I'm p-plenty scary."

That had been at just past eleven this morning, and now as you stood in the kitchen - with one of Toby's shirts hanging oversized over your body - it was nearly six. The mid-October sun has already started dipping under the horizon line, filtering in streaks of pink and gold through the window while you busied yourself.

If you didn't, you knew you'd just start to worry - despite the fact that you knew Toby would just make fun of you for doing so.

A paring knife in your hands, you were peeling potatoes whilst humming softly to yourself, a pot of stew simmering on the stove next to you. If he had been out this long, you were sure he must've worked up an appetite, and needed something warm to ward off the chill accumulated in his bones.

Besides, you liked doting on Toby. Liked to see the way his eyes shone when you did something for him just out of the good or your heart - because you loved him. You wanted him to always know that fact, never doubt the love you kept harboured in your heart just for him and him alone. It was more little gestures than big ones; scrubbing bloodstains out of his clothes and patching up holes, tending to wounds he didn't notice he acquired, or cooking dinner like right now.

None of these things felt like chores, they were almost therapeutic. And so as you stood by the stove, chopping potatoes into little cubes, you were blissfully calm despite your boyfriend's extended absence. The television was on in the living room, playing some old rerun movie you had only picked for background noise. The fireplace below it crackled, though it was dying because it had been a little too long since you had thrown in a new log.

Was this domestic bliss? It sure felt like it. Maybe as close to it as you would come, with a literal axe murderer as your chosen partner.

And like a tulpa born straight from your thoughts, the moment your mind wandered back to Toby - the man himself was making an entrance like a freight train.

The front door burst open, so quickly slicing through the soft and cozy atmosphere you had been shrouded in. You couldn't see him, not yet, because the entryway to your home was behind a rounded corner - but you should sure as hell hear him.

The door creaking before it slammed shut. Heavy boots knocking against wood floor. The metallic clang of something hitting the ground (presumably his hatchets), and soft grumbled curses spilling from his lips.

You had been right. You knew there was something off about today.

"Toby?" You call to him, your voice soft and gentle. Not wanting to poke the bear even more than it already had been. Setting the knife down on the cutting board, you quickly shut off the stove and move the pot to a cold burner. Then, with your feet moving faster than your mind was, you make your way out of the kitchen and through the living room. "Are you o-"

The words die on your tongue the moment you round the corner. Now, you were well aware of what Toby did when he left home. Though he hid the gory details from you more often than not, his stained clothes were all of the confirmation you really needed. He was a killer, a good one at that, judging from the little snippets of what he had told you.

But right now, he looked like more than that. He looked like a butcher.

The amount of blood almost didn't look real. Like something out of some gorefest slasher film rather than the authentic remains of a real human being. Toby was coated in it. It was matting in his hair, smeared across the goggles that were pushed up onto his forehead. It was clinging to his eyelashes, dripping down his cheeks and off of his chin. His sweater was drenched, splattered with crimson and torn at the hems - like the fabric had been snagged by the forest brush as he trudged through it.

There was a handprint on his chest, just below his shoulder - smeared and frantic, like someone had been trying to shove him off of them, clawing at the fabric in vain.

Then your eyes trail up again, and god. The look in his eyes.. Dark, somehow both simultaneously dead hollow and wildly crazed. It was almost hard to believe this was the same man who had left the house this morning.

"B-Bitch got away." Snapping you out of your stunned stupor, is Toby's voice - gravelly and strained, sounding almost like he had spent the last hour just screaming his lungs out. You blink a few times, feeling as though his very presence has given you whiplash, before squeaking out;

"What?" Your gaze drops down, eyeing the pool of red accumulating beneath his boots, and you have to ask yourself if at least some of it is his, because there's just so much. Also, you're suddenly very happy you chose hardwood over carpets.

"She- fuck! -She got a-away." Toby repeats himself, his shoulders jerking as an involuntary tic wracks his body. You could hear his joints crack and pop as it happened, a noise that you really never got used to, no matter how much you loved him. He takes a step closer, then another, his boots producing a sickening squelch against the floor. "I fuh- fuckin' gutted her like a damn fish, and she g-got away!"

He's looking down at you, wild eyes glinting in the low light of the entryway, and you can't help but shrink a little. You had never seen him like this. Bloodied and bruised, sure, but never drenched in it - body shaking with unspent adrenaline as he recounted what he had done in graphic detail. "Cut her from here-" He poked your belly button through your shirt with a stained finger, the touch making your whole body tense up. "Up to 'er tits, a-and she still got away. F-Fuckin' scooping up her own guts with her hands as she ran." You look up to meet his eyes, and he's already staring dead straight into yours. "C-Can you believe that?"

He goes silent, looking at you expectantly, and it takes you a few moments to realize that he's actually waiting for an answer. You give him a small, jerky shake of your head, and clear your throat.

"No." You manage out, your voice coming out much softer and shakier than you had meant it to. "That... That doesn't make any sense."

Toby lets out a bark of a laugh, hollow and dry - nothing like the warm and soft chuckle that had graced your ears just this morning. It's a chilling sound, almost maniacal in the way he takes in a wheezing breath afterwards, his head tilting backwards as a warped version of a smile stretches across his lips.

"Yeah, n-no shit." He snorts, before stepping around you and stalking into the living room. You follow, because what the hell else are you supposed to do, collecting blood on the soles of your socked feet as you adhere to the gruesome trail he leaves behind. Toby, pays no mind to any of the mess he's creating, too caught up in his own tumultuous mind to realize that it's starting to look like the murder (or, attempted one, you guess) played out here. "Her friends were easy, maybe t-too easy, but I had expected that! S-She wanted to act like she was t-the fuckin' final girl."

He shrugged off the coat he had been wearing over top of his hoodie, the material falling to the ground with a heavy thump before he started trudging over to the couch. You have to bite your tongue. God, was he going to stain that too? "B-But it might be my fault. The first two were so a-agonizingly easy. So buh-boring. Wanted to have a bit of fun with the last one." He flopped back against the couch and, yup, now your sofa is now smeared with blood as well. "Shoulda just lodged my axe between 'er f-fuckin' eyes."

Something about the way he's speaking, so detached from the acts he committed, made your blood run ice cold in your veins. There's a pit in your stomach, and your chest feels tight every time you take in a quivering breath.

His eyes lift to meet yours from where he's sitting on the sofa, and that's when you realize it.

You're scared of him.

Your palms feel clammy, your heart thudding so hard in your chest that it feels like it's bruising your ribs from the inside. You were scared of him. Of Toby. Never, not once in the years you had been by his side, had you ever felt fear run through your veins while in his presence.

Not when you wiped a few little speckles of blood from his face, not when you sat beside him outside as he sharpened his hatchets, not even on one of his bad days when he would get snappy and snide with you.

But right now? Oh, there was no denying the feeling swirling through your veins like a toxin. You were damn near petrified, and oddly - it was exhilarating.

It was hard to explain exactly what avenue your mind went down, but you were pretty sure it went a little something like this: Toby was always so sweet to you, almost sickeningly so, barely letting you get more than a peek into what he did when those orange goggles of his came down over his eyes. He was hardly ever harsh with you, like you were an angel, and he was scared to sully your spotless white wings with his stained hands. Right now, as he sat before you, eyes cold and his skin growing sticky with drying blood, he was the exact opposite of that. Finally, finally, letting you see every part of who he really is, right down to the gory details.

It made something in you stir. Excitement? Awe? You weren't quite sure. All you knew was that the lead in your stomach was moulding into butterflies.

"Well, she's got to be dead." You murmur, approaching him slowly, eyes locked on him as he settles into the couch - legs spread and his head tilting back against the cushions. Fuck. Were you crazy? Why has he never looked hotter? "If what you said is true, she probably didn't make it far before collapsing. Probably died from blood loss, or shock."

You come to stand before him, right between his knees, and the way he stares up at you has your own nearly buckling under the weight of his gaze. "There's no way she lived."

"Y-You'd think, right?" He hums back to you, his voice low as he leans forwards and rests his elbows on his thighs. "And yet I never found her f-fuckin' corpse. She got away after s-socking me in the nose and I just... Never saw her again. Combed that forest for hours." He reached up, pointing a finger at you. "And you know. You know t-that I know those woods like the b-back of my hand. I looked everywhere." You swallow thickly. "Nothin'. No corpse, no blood trail to lead me to her. The bitch went g-ghost."

"She's dead, Toby. She's got to be. There's just no way." You reassure him. Then, slowly, you sink downwards, folding into a kneel on the ground between his thighs. Wanting to be eye-level, but also, wanting to be closer. Despite the blood - because of the blood - you weren't sure. Your mind was a tangled mix of emotions, and all of them were volatile. Toby watches you, his eyes unreadable as his gaze tracks you moving downwards in his line of sight. "I'm sure you got her."

"Yeah, well." He had noticed your shift in demeanour immediately. Through his clouded mind, there was a shred of guilt that had been prodding at him when he caught sight of the fear in your eyes - so sweet and lovely compared to him, like a scared little rabbit cowering before a pack wolf. It was still there, that anxiety, but it was bordered with something else. Something he couldn't quite put a finger on. Or maybe, something he just didn't think was plausible. "I-It's not a job done unless there's a-a body to show for it." He reaches up, wiping away some of the blood that had begun to drip into his eye, smearing it across his skin in consequence. Your heart leaps. "Brian and Tim are pissed. T-Told 'em I could do this one on my own and look what h-happened."

“Well it’s not your fault.” You breathe back to him, holding his gaze as you place a reassuring hand on his knee - looking up at him through your eyelashes. “How were you supposed to know she would practically be immortal?”

Toby laughs dryly and shakes his head, watching you for a moment before he reaches down and pinches your chin between his fingers. You can feel it as the blood smears against your face, and you can smell it - sickly metallic, almost sour. It made your stomach churn.

“Not immortal, just way t-too determined.” His thumb smooths against your cheek, dark brown eyes watching with interest at the stark red mark he leaves against your soft skin. Pretty. He thinks to himself. Real fucking pretty. He really can’t help it when he tightens his grip a little bit, just to feel how soft you are. How fragile you are.

Your eyes widen minutely, and he lets out a soft hum before dragging his hand up the side of your face - painting the canvas that was his pretty girl’s skin. Might even be prettier if it was your own blood. It takes a lot of willpower on his end to squash that thought down.

Toby would never hurt you, he had sworn that to himself on the first day you had met eyes, but he’d be damned if he said he didn’t think about it sometimes. About how your eyes may look, glassy with tears while your face scrunches up in agony. What specific shade of red your blood is. How it tastes. Smells. How it would look smeared across your perfect tits.

Leaving scarlet handprints on your ass, hips, neck, all just to lick you clean afterwards.

He wouldn’t though. He couldn’t. You were far too lovely for that. Far too gentle to be tainted by the likes of someone like him. It was a miracle you hadn’t been already.

It was getting a little difficult to restrain himself though, when you were kneeled before him looking like something pulled straight from a wet dream. So decadently pure, with trails of his sin streaked across your face.

He could fucking eat you whole if you’d let him.

“Toby?” Your voice, soft like spun silk, pulls his thoughts out of the depravity they had been falling into. He tears his eyes away from where his hand met your cheek, and sinks into your irises instead - which might just be a more dangerous route. Wide, like a deer in the headlights you look up at him, with a slight tremble to your bottom lip that makes his stomach feel hot. Makes his whole body feel hot, like you had set him alight with one look.

He doesn’t respond at first, instead just holding your gaze as his hand slips down. Then his eyes are flickering towards the sight of his fingers instead as he presses his thumb to your bottom lip. He swipes across it, smearing blood on your lip like some grotesque form of lipstick - his breathing stuttering when you’re left with the most decadent shade of red against the soft plushness.

“P-Pretty.” Toby can’t stop himself from saying, his voice just above a whisper. As if in a trance, he pushes his thumb past your lips without a second thought, hooking into your jaw and prying your mouth open. You sputter, face immediately scrunching up at the action.

You can taste it, the blood. Somebody else’s blood, drained from some poor victim Toby had incapacitated. It was pungently metallic, just a tad bitter, and it immediately made your stomach twist when it hit your tastebuds. With eyebrows furrowed you pull away from him, watching how a pink-tinged line of spit connects your mouth to his finger before it breaks.

You spit onto the floor beside you, not caring about the mess because there was already so much to clean up. You just needed the taste out of your mouth. Toby though, he had other plans.

There’s still drool dribbling down your chin when his hand seizes your jaw again, tilting your head back to look at him with a force that made goosebumps prickle your skin. “You d-don’t like it?” He asks as he leans forwards a little, wild eyes boring into yours. His fingers dig into your jaw, with a strength he’s never shown on you before, and suddenly you’re wondering just how much he’s been holding back all of this time.

You shake your head once, before clearing your throat.

“Don’t like the taste.” You murmur, trying to ignore the fact that your body was so easily conceding to him. Scared, but still so willing, still so eager. You could feel your skin heating up more and more with each second that ticked by.

Why? You should be pushing him away, right? Shoving him towards the shower and throwing his bloody clothes in the wash. For some reason though, you just couldn’t. You were disgusted by the taste on your tongue, shaking where you kneeled because of the man before you, and yet you couldn’t force yourself to move. Not even out of fear anymore, out of something worse. Something sick and twisted that had been sleeping for a long time, now clawing its way to the surface with jagged nails.

“No?” Toby presses his fingers to your lips again, this time his pointer and middle finger both - watching you with an intensity that made you squeeze your thighs together. You knew what he was doing. He was testing you. Seeing whether you’d take the bait and give in, or stick to your morals and shove him away for the second time.

Right then, you remember what he had said to you earlier that day. ‘Remind me to jog your memory sometime. I’m plenty scary.’

You wanted more proof of that.

And so you meet his eyes, then slowly part your lips. His pupils practically swallow his irises whole, eyes going damn near black before he’s slipping his blood soaked fingers into your mouth.

Again, you get the acrid taste or blood on your tongue, and it makes your stomach turn just like it did the first time. But you don’t push him off this time, you let him push further, further - until you’re gagging when the tips of his fingers hit the back of your throat. “Lügnerin.” He murmurs darkly, watching with a keen interest as you sputter on his fingers - drool pooling at the corners of your lips. “You d-do like it.”

You whimper around the digits, a sound that even you would admit was pathetic, and it just makes Toby’s lips twist into a wicked grin. The rasp of his mother tongue always did something to you, he knew that and he found it so adorable how you just melted for him when he spoke it - even if you didn’t have the slightest clue what he was saying.

This was just like - no, better than - his wildest dreams. You looked so pretty and pitiful. His sweet girl. His angel. Kneeling before him, just begging to be ruined.

How could he ever deny you? “Y-You’re not as innocent as I thought, huh?” He taps his fingers against your tongue, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Lick ‘em clean.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment you completely freeze up - aghast by the command he’d just given you. You couldn’t deny how the low drawl of his voice sent tingles straight down to your gut, leaving you shifting where you sat before him. It was a humiliating thing to realize, but the evidence was there, already dampening your panties.

You were incredibly turned on.

You breathe in a breath through your nose, before closing your lips around his fingers - suctioning to them as you began to gently suck. It was filthy. Your mouth coated with a metallic tang, your tongue scrubbing against his rough callouses. It nearly made you gag, and yet you didn’t stop, you kept going - swirling your tongue around the digits until they were spotless, and you were releasing them with a soft ‘pop’.

“Scheiße..” Toby breathes out, his voice rougher than before as he stares down at you. At his two fingers, now starkly cleaner than the rest of his hand. Your lips are stained even more now, and it’s smeared across your chin and cheek, making you look like such a bloody little mess for him. If you let him go this far, you’d let him push more, right?

He wanted you coated in it. Wanted some of it to be your own. Needed to see what face you made when he broke skin. He knew it would be lovely, every part of you was. “S-Such a good fuckin’ girl.” He murmurs, reaching out to cup the side of your face and squeezing softly. “You really d-do like this.” Toby’s voice sounds almost awestruck, and for good reason. Who would’ve ever guessed you wouldn’t mind, scratch that, you liked seeing him like this? A lot more than you were saying, if the way you keep squirming was anything to go by.

Were you already wet? Dripping slick into your panties just from sucking blood off of his hand? His heart thuds like a drum beat in his chest, and he could feel his cock stir in his jeans just from the thought alone. How much could he push you? Just how far would you let him go?

Hell, even if you stopped him here he thinks he’d be satisfied, because what he had just witnessed was prime jerk off material for fucking years to come - but he couldn’t help but want to push his luck, and see how much he could get from you. “You like s-seeing me like this?” He asks softly. “Like seeing proof of w-what I do?”

His hand trails downwards, tracing the line of your jaw before circling your throat. Not squeezing, just resting there, making its presence known. “Makes y-you realize just how fuh-fuckin’ nice I am to you, hm? C-Could kill you so easy i-if I really wanted to.” Now he squeezes, a gentle yet firm pressure against your throat that has your pulse kicking up a notch. “You’d be d-dead before you even knew w-what happened, baby.”

He tightens his grip a little, enough for you to really feel it, and your breathing stutters because it’s already getting hard to breathe and you know he’s still holding back by a lot. “Or maybe, I’d go slow. J-Just to hear your pretty screams.”

He leans down, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fan against your face, and then he’s asking; “Would you l-let me?” It’s a question that has your heart rate spiking, making goosebumps rise over the entire surface of your skin. It’s enough to render you speechless, and so when you don’t respond, he continues. “Would you let me h-hurt you? I’d never really k-kill you, darlin’. Just wanna see you b-bleed.”

And, fuck. Fuck. Those words seemed to be armed with the intention to go straight to your cunt, and that’s exactly what they do. You can feel it as you just grow wetter, your neglected clit throbbing within the confines of your panties. It was a thin pair, something lacy and sheer (just how Toby liked them) but they still felt like too much. Restrictive. Irritating in the way they were a barrier between you and his bare touch.

Had you always been this much of a freak? Maybe. Maybe that’s why you looked past Toby’s profession so easily. Secretly indulging in the thrill, the danger of sharing a bed with someone like him.

Someone who, as he had just made clear, could end your life on a moment’s notice if he really wanted to. The constant uncertainty of another promised day, the silent wonder of if he’d ever snap on you instead.

You had been wanting this. You just hadn’t fully known it until it was staring you right in the face.

“Yeah.” You end up choking out, the last remnants of your self-respect completely flying out the window. If he wouldn’t actually kill you, maybe this was the safest way to dive into the dark desires growing within you. Maybe you wanted to experience every last thing he had been holding back over the years. What would he do to you? What had he been fantasizing about, unbeknownst to you? The uncertainty of it all, is what was making your blood hot. “If… If you really want to.”

“Oh, I want t-to.” Toby murmured softly as he drags his hand back up to your face, before sliding behind your head and pulling you closer by the nape of your neck. Closer to the crotch of his jeans, which - you had noticed but not commented on - had grown a tent in it since you had begun speaking. He really was into this just as much as you were. You suppose that shouldn’t have been a surprise at all. “D-Do you know?” Closer he draws you in, until your chin is brushing against his fly. “Do you know how many t-times I’ve thought about it? D-Dreamt about it? You screaming for me? Really screaming?”

You swallow down a lump in your throat, and you’re still trembling. Haven’t stopped, ever since you knelt before him. It was intoxicating, how he set your mind and body alight. “Y-You’re just so p-precious. So sweet to me. I never wanted to actually d-do it…” His fingers curl into your hair, gripping the strands tight enough for you to wince. “But if you’re asking me to? I won’t want to stop until you’re b-begging. And even then, I-I might not.”

You might just fucking drool from that warning alone. God, how had you not known he had been restraining himself so heavily around you? You had thought it was in his nature to be gentle and sweet, the acts he committed for the entity he served just being something he had to do. But no. He had been craving this for longer than you could imagine. Probably since the first day you met. Had he always viewed you as prey? “Y-You really want that? I don’t wanna buh-break you.”

He smiles, an expression so sweet it almost feels uncanny for the circumstances. “I love you t-too much for that.”

“I want it.” You say before you can really mill over the thought, pure impulse taking over - the craving too strong. “I want it, Toby. I do.”

He hums softly, his eyes darker than you’d ever seen them as he looks you over. You wonder what you look like from his point of view. Bloodied, begging, just centimetres away from his clothed cock. Probably like a feast, and his eyes were flickering like he was just itching to dig in.

“D-Du spielst ein gefährliches spiel, meine Liebe.” And it doesn’t even matter that you don’t know what he’s saying, you can just tell it’s a warning. By the look on his face, how his grip on you tightens to the point of near painful. You know it’s just a taste. He could give you so much more. “Prove it th-then.” He hums softly, finally releasing his hold on you in favour of settling back into the couch cushions once more. He crosses his arms over his chest, cocking an eyebrow as he watches you with an expectant gaze. “Prove that y-you want it, and maybe I-I’ll humour you.”

It was the nonchalance that had you squirming, it was what had your heart racing from the moment you stepped through the door. He wanted this just as much as you did - hell, definitely more than you did - and yet he wasn’t easily cracking like you would’ve expected. It was like he enjoyed the performance of it all, the joy of seeing you sink lower and lower all just to please him. Having his favourite girl beg on her knees for him to paint her crimson? Now isn’t that just a treat.

It takes a moment for you to will your body to move, feeling paralyzed by the sheer potency of dominance radiating off of him. Toby had always been a bit on the commanding side with you in the bedroom, but in a more gentle way.

‘I know you c-can do it for me’.

‘You look so puh-pretty on your knees. Stay just like th-that, okay?”

‘Just a l-little more. You feel so good.”

Tender coaxing. Husky words of encouragement and soft touches to move you how he wanted. You’re realizing though, that may have been a watered down version of how he really wanted to treat you.

You move slowly, your shaking hands raising from your lap to reach for his belt buckle instead. His hips twitch at the action. Eager. Impatient. Your eyes lift to meet his as you start to pull his belt loose, and you feel it as goosebumps raise on the back of your neck - sparking up a chill that travelled all the way down your spine.

Toby was watching you like a hawk, like a predator, tracking each and every movement of yours with a keen interest. It was chilling, really, but the fear just went straight to your core. His belt comes undone, and you don’t even bother pulling it from the loops before you’re popping the button of his jeans.

The fire has died out by now, and the movie you had been playing had finished the ending credits, so it was incredibly silent in the room with him. So much so, that you could hear his every breath. The sound of his zipper being pulled down sounds so incredibly loud. “D-Du bist ein k-krankes kleines ding, nicht wahr?” He’s murmuring right as you’re beginning to tug his briefs down his narrow hips, and he’s normally so cold to the touch - but he’s burning up beneath you right now. “C-Come home c-covered in filth and you j-just drop straight to your knees.”

His cock springs free just inches from your face, and you can’t help but gasp softly. You always felt like you had been blessed when it came to what your boyfriend was endowed with. Long, but not enough to hurt. Thick enough to really feel the stretch. Curved just the right amount, with a vein running up the side and flushed pink at the tip. “Schlampe.” Toby mutters under his breath, right as you feel your mouth start to water.

And you know what that word means. Your eyes dart back up to him immediately, face flushing a deep shade of pink - so perfectly complimenting the blood smeared across your skin.

“I’m not.” You murmur softly as your eyebrows scrunch together, but you close a fist around the base of his length anyway. You hear it when his breathing stutters, and you feel it when his cock jumps at the touch.

“I-I’m not convinced.” He snorts, his eyelids drooping as you pull your hand away to spit into your palm, before returning it to him nice and lubed up. He’s so warm in your hand, already so hard you can feel him throb against your palm. His words make your ears burn, because you know that you’re just proving him right as you lean your head down to lick at the tip.

Toby’s eyes flutter, a satisfied hum rumbling from his chest as you flatten your tongue against him - lapping up all the salty precum that he had already accumulated. God, he tasted good, he always did. Always left you craving more. “D-Du bist eine d-dreckige schlampe.” You’re circling your lips around the head of his cock. “Ich wusste es.”

He’s being mean and you know it, but it just makes you burn hotter as you sink your mouth down onto his length. The drawl to his voice, low and sultry as he spits germanic insults down at you - you can’t help but moan around him as you try to take in more. He’s bumping against the constrictive muscles of your throat, but you can take him if you really put your mind to it. You’ve done it before.

You’re trying to get your throat to relax, breathing in through your nose and getting comfortable - when you suddenly feel a hand on the back of your head. It’s sticky, smearing blood into your soft hair, and then it’s pushing you down.

Immediately your eyes blow open wide as you’re shoved down onto his cock, your throat burning and hot tears immediately springing to your eyes. You gag around him, fingers flying down to dig into his thighs. Your gaze darts up towards him, equal parts bewildered and frantic as you try and blink back the tears. “You were t-taking too long.” He chuckles, his grin wicked and lacking any semblance of remorse. His fingers curl into a fist in your hair, gripping the strands with enough force to make your scalp burn as he pushes you down further - until your nose is bumping against his pelvis. “You wanted this, baby. D-Don’t forget that.”

You can barely breathe, your throat practically convulsing around him as it tries and fails to adjust to the intrusion. Tears cling to your eyelashes before they’re dripping down and landing against Toby’s skin. “Ich liebe es, wenn du weinst.” Even if you squirmed you couldn’t try and get away, the strength of which he’s pushing you down being something you could only dream to fight against. “D-Du siehst so hübsch aus.”

Then he’s yanking you back upwards until just the tip remains between your lips, giving you a second to take in a few gasping breaths through your nose. You try to fill your lungs as much as you can, but it still doesn’t feel like enough when he pulling you down onto him again.

He keeps like that, grip tight on your hair as he bobs your head up and down on his cock, making you taking him to the base each and every time. Your throat feels raw, your ears are fucking ringing, and you can’t see a damn thing through the tears blurring your vision. He’s merciless with it, only giving you seconds at a time to greedily take in air before he’s filling up your throat again.

And yet somehow, you don’t think you’ve ever gotten wetter. Your pussy is throbbing, soaking through your panties and making the fabric cling to your folds. Rubbing your thighs together isn’t even helping, you’re so worked up that it’s nowhere near enough to placate you.

So, as Toby switches to holding your head in place as he bucks his hips up into your drooling mouth, you snake a hand down between your own legs.

Toby, of course, tracks the movement immediately. “Oh, poor baby.” He drawls, his tone dripping with mockery and oh so cruel. “Pussy’s g-gettin’ wet because I’m t-treating you like a wh-whore?” He huffs out, fucking up into your mouth with more vigour and making you let out a strangled whimper. “Du bist so erbärmlich. It’s c-cute.”

You whine around his cock as your fingers slip into your panties, and you waste no time finding your clit and rubbing tight circles against the slick nub. A moan leaves you immediately, vibrating through Toby’s length. He hisses out a curse, his hips stuttering a little at the sensation.

You looked so lovely. Lips stretched around his cock, drool seeping out of the corners of your mouth. Tears streaking your blood smeared skin. Your face flushed a pretty pink shade as you touch yourself almost frantically, brows pinched together in pleasure. It was an image that Toby was sure would be burned into the back of his eyelids for a long time to come.

You were just perfect.

His breathing has grown ragged, heavy huffs of breath leaving his lips each time he fucks deep into your throat. With a hand on each side of your head, your hearing is muffled - the echo chamber of your skull filled with nothing but the obscene ‘schlick, schlick’ of his dick dragging against your tongue.

You’re such a mess that it’s pitiful. There’s a growing pool of your liquids accumulating at the base of his cock and dripping between his thighs - your drool, tears, and even a bit of snot from how brutally he’s been treating your poor face. It’s so filthy, as is the slurping sound you make everytime his length leaves your mouth.

Your fingers pick up the pace - faster, more pressure - chasing the heat brewing low in your gut. Your thighs are shaking, knees aching from kneeling against the hardwood flooring, and it’s so good. So good that you can barely even think anymore, your brain reduced to a puddle of thoughtless mush that sloshed around with each buck of his hips.

Your body feels like it’s on fire. You don’t think you’ve ever felt like this before - just a bundle of desperation and need. Shaking from discomfort with an aching jaw, and yet it’s exactly where you wanted to be.

Then suddenly, you’re yanked off of his cock, which hits his stomach with a wet slap. And you’re blinking up at him, fingers stilling as you silently question him on why on earth he’s stopping. You could keep going for hours if he wanted you to, the aches and pains just something that fuelled your desire even more. “G-Get up here.” He huffs out, reaching down to grab at you before you can even process what he’s said. “Ich muss d-dich spüren.”

Your legs are shaky and sore when you rise, but lucky for you, you’re not standing for long. Toby tugs you onto his lap without hesitation, impatient hands clawing at the fabric of the loose shorts hugging your hips. “Ich werde dich zum Schreien b-bringen.” You shift, making it easier for him to tug the shorts off of you along with your soaked panties. With how he’s being, you’re pretty sure he would’ve just ripped them off if you didn’t. “Ich werde dich z-zum Weinen bringen.”

He slides a hand between your legs, a soft growl rumbling from his chest when he feels just how slick and ready you are for him already. “You’re fuh-fuckin’ dripping.” He hisses out, giving no warning before sliding two fingers (the ones you had already sucked clean) into your leaking cunt. You gasp, your pussy fluttering around the digits at the sudden intrusion - hands flying up to grip at the bloodied fabric of his hoodie.

He’s far from gentle, just like how he warned you he’d be, but at least he was stretching you out a little bit. Pumping his fingers into you, curling them in the way he knows you like. Scissoring them wide, impatiently getting you ready to take him all.

And with how you had already gotten yourself so close, it’s a piece of cake for him to finish the job. You let out a whine, eyes screwing shut as the pads of his fingers rub against your gspot, taking you higher and higher until-

“Toby-“ You moan, your head dropping low to rest against his shoulder, the drying blood feeling cold as it smears against your face. You can feel the knot in your gut tying tighter, and when his thumb comes up to play with your already swollen clit - you know you’re done for. “I can’t- I’m gonna-“

“Y-You gonna cum for me?” He rasps out, just doubling his efforts as your lips part in pleasure. His gaze drops down, catching on the way his thumb smears blood against your folds, and his abandoned cock jumps at the sight. “Wunderschön.” He’s breathless when he speaks, even more so when you start to shake in his hold.

Your hips twitch, thighs tremble, and then you’re melting against him as you cum - pressing your face into his neck as a wave of pleasure washes over you from head to toe. It’s so intense that stars dance behind your eyelids, your breath catching in your throat as you choke out a moan against his skin. “T-That’s it.” Toby murmurs. “Schönes Mädchen.”

He pulls his fingers from you, leaving you whimpering at the loss - but it’s not for long. He grabs you by the waist, tugging you close until you’re positioned right over his leaking cock. “Y-You’re so p-perfect for me.” He murmurs as he reaches down to take hold of himself, swiping the tip through your slick and getting it nice and wet. “Ich liebe dich.”

You know that one too. “I love you more.” You breathe back to him, and then your brows are pinching together as he slowly lowers you down onto him. Even with the small amount of prep he’s given you, it’s still a stretch, making your breathing stutter as you sink down inch by inch - swallowing him up with your sopping wet pussy.

“S-So tight.” He hisses out, grip like a vice on your hips as you take everything he gives you. “F-Fuck, you’re a d-dream.”

You squirm a little once you’re fully seated, your thighs meeting his. He’s pressed right up against your gspot, a constant pressure that sends sparks of pleasure up your spine. He’s so perfect, everything you could ever need and then some. You feel filled to the brim, your walls pulsing around him to the time of your heart beat, eyes glazed over as you raise your head from his neck to look at him.

He smiles. Bloody, crooked, and yet somehow so incredibly charming. Toby gives the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen him produce, as if he wasn’t six inches deep in your blood smeared body. “You look so g-good like this.” He hums, trailing his hands up your sides and bringing your shirt with it, before tugging it off of you completely. Braless, your nipples perk up once they’re exposed to the cold air, and it just makes his grin widen before he’s bringing his palms to your chest.

He kneads the soft flesh, leaving streaks and bloody fingerprints against them, and just like that - he thinks he’s fallen in love all over again. “My girl.” He murmurs as he rolls his hips up, pressing into you more. “My baby.”

Calloused palms slide down the expanse of your abdomen, then settling on your hips again and giving a squeeze. You were so soft. So soft, warm, and pretty. And your pussy - so wet and hot around him, your walls clinging to him like they’ve been molded to the shape of his cock. He could drown in you if you’d let him. “Lettin’ me g-get you all buh-bloody.” He drags against your sensitive core as he pulls you upwards, eyes locked on you face - watching each little change of your expression. “Gonna l-let me give you mo-more? I-Ich möchte dich s-schmecken.”

“More, Toby.” You whimper, voice trembling. Whatever he’s willing to give you, you want. Screaming, crying, breathless - you don’t care. You’ll give it all to him.

“D-Du bist reizend.” He breathes out, just seconds before dropping you onto his length. He fills you up again in such a swift movement it nearly knocks the wind out of you completely, but you don’t even have time to catch your breath. The pace he picks up is just as ruthless as the treatment he had given your throat.

Fast snaps of his hips, deep thrusts, fucking up into you like it’s his only mission in life. It feels like he’s punching the moans out of your lungs, hitting so deep on every stroke that it makes your vision blur around the edges. You can do nothing but take it, your cunt drooling all over him as he bounces you on his lap like a doll.

Toby, is absolutely captivated. You are everything right now. Better than his wildest dreams. The most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Mouth dropped open as you cry out and gasp for breath, skin glistening with sweat and streaks of scarlet. Tits bouncing with each thrust, skin rippling in the most enticing way.

He needs to sink his teeth in, and so he does.

With your eyes squeezed shut from pleasure, you don’t even get a warning before he leans forwards and bites down on your neck. Hard.

Immediately, the pain that blossoms from his teeth is something that has your eyes snapping open - momentarily sobering you up and clearing your mind. When he breaks skin, you scream.

A real, genuine, straight from the soul scream. It’s ripped from you, your cunt tightening around him as your whole body tenses up. The feeling of his blunt teeth biting so hard that they tear skin, is something you don’t think you’ll ever forget. It’s a searing pain. The kind that makes your mouth go dry as all the air leaves your lungs.

Instinctively, you reach your hands up to push at his shoulders to free yourself, but he doesn’t budge. If anything, he just bites down harder. Toby moans against you with a mouthful of flesh, snapping his hips up into you harder, his grip tight to keep you right where he wanted you. No amount of struggle or pushback was fazing him. He was so drunk on the taste of you, and the sound of your screams, that every protest was falling on deaf ears.

His jaw finally relaxes, and then he’s pulling away - slowly pulling his teeth from the stark puncture wound now standing out against your previously unmarred neck. He watches as the blood pools in the deepest parts of the wound, then beads up before it drips down - down, over your collarbone, across your chest, sliding down the slope of your breast. Fuck, this is so much better than his dreams.

“Toby-“ You cry as fresh tears well up in your eyes - salty and hot, just like the blood staining Toby’s tongue. Your neck was throbbing, and with how he just kept impaling you on his dick over and over despite your cries, you were beginning to feel a little dizzy. It was a lot for your body to handle, maybe too much. But you’d be damned if you backed down now.

Toby looked feral. You catch his gaze and you swear your heart stops. You’ve seen him in the heat of the moment more times than you could count, but never like this. He looked… Deranged. Absolutely intoxicated by you, and fully sinking into that fact. His pupils were blown wide behind drooping lids, lips smeared with your blood as they stretch into a satisfied smile.

“D-Du schmeckst so s-süß.” His right hand slides downwards, meeting your clit once again with ease. Giving you a few, soothing circles. “I-Ich könnte dich l-lebendig essen.”

Toby seats you back on his dick fully, and then your worldview flips. It’s only once your back hits the couch cushions, that you realize he’s picked you up and pinned you down. “Y-You know how puh-pretty you sound when you scream?” He asks as he shimmies off his jeans fully, staying pressed as deep as possible the entire time. “And those t-tears.. Fuck, y-you’re gorgeous.”

He nuzzles against your neck as he gets comfortable between your legs again, putting a pressure against the bite mark that made you wince. It had just started to settle down from a blinding pain to a dull throb, but it feels like he’s reignited it all over again. “Ich glaube, ich ha-habe vorhin gelogen.” With one hand on your stomach and one on your waist, he’s got your trapped beneath him. “Ich möchte d-dich wirklich b-brechen.”

You feel a tongue against your neck as he begins to rock his hips once more. Gentler this time, finally giving your body a chance to relax. Toby laps up the blood from your neck as he fucks you with slow, shallow strokes, muffling his moans against your skin. Your body arches up into him, your chest meeting his, and you’re gasping right next to his ear. It’s the strangest feeling, having his tongue dip into the pits of the wound he had just made, but the sharp sting is almost welcome. It just feels so… Comforting. Intimate.

Like you’ve never been closer.

Toby pulls his head back, fluffy strands of hair falling against his forehead as he watches you from above. You look like a damn work of art, a sight that makes his breath catch. His gaze travels down to focus on the image of your pretty pussy swallowing him up over and over. Stretching around him. Leaving him glistening with slick everytime he pulled out. Then, his eyes lift, and he’s focusing on the blood smearing your stomach and chest. Higher, his eyes trace the shape of the mark he left on you. Finally, they stop at your face - contorted in pleasure and streaked with tears. “Y-You’re so b-beautiful.” He gasps out, nails sinking into your skin as he starts pulling your body back to meet his thrusts.

Your body shifts and slides against the couch cushions, already damp with sweat and blood. He’s got you taking his whole length again, making sure to bury himself to the hilt on every single stroke - his pelvis bumping against your clit. “I love you.” He moans softly to the melody of his skin hitting yours. His voice is so sweet and gentle, just like in the morning. A reminder that he was still the exact same man.

“I-I love you, Toby.” You choke out, just barely getting the words out between gasps and moans. You were nearing another peak. Could feel it brewing and growing hotter with each snap of Toby’s hips. His hands slip down and around to your ass, large palms splaying against each cheek and keeping you nice and spread open while he gets lost in your heat.

You just barely see it through your hazy vision as he leans down once more, but you notice his lips parting. At least this time, you’re getting a bit of a heads-up.

His teeth meet your skin again, this time your shoulder, and he bites down so quick it takes a moment for the pain to even register. But once it does, it’s even worse than the last one. Again, you yelp, crying and squirming beneath him hopelessly as he sinks his canines deeper into your flesh. Right into the muscle, it feels like, when his jaw locks into you harder.

It’s excruciating. A blinding pain that makes your head feel fuzzy. What you were feeling right now, with Toby latched onto your shoulder while he pounded into you, was something you couldn’t quite understand. Did you hate this, or love it? Did you want to push him away, or draw him in closer? Was it pain or pleasure?

The answer to each question, was a resounding ‘I don’t know’.

Your body seemed to decide before your mind did though, because you find yourself reaching up for him with a trembling hand. Into his hair your fingers thread - not tugging or pulling, just cupping the back of his head. Holding him there as he tears at your flesh. You think you would do the exact same thing even if he started pulling meat from bone.

You feel like you’re melding into him, becoming one as the warmth of your blood drips down into his throat. The pain started to do something funny as he released your shoulder before biting down again just a few inches below. It wasn’t distracting from the pleasure anymore, it was heightening it. Two opposites swirling together to form something new and exhilarating.

Toby notices the moment it happens, feeling how you relaxed so sweetly into his brutal hold. His nails bite into your hips, surely leaving scratches and bruises behind - just a few more marks to add to the collection he’s already given you.

“P-Perfect.” He breathes once he pulls back again, mouth smeared with blood and his teeth stained with it. Toby looked like a rabid beast in your eyes, and you were his willing victim. He wasn’t all violence and ferocity though, you could tell as you looked into his eyes through your blurry vision. His gaze was teeming with nothing but love. A tad obsessive, a little warped, but love nonetheless.

It makes your heart swell. “Y-You’re everything t-to me, you know that?” He tells you softly, rolling his hips deeper as he feels your walls start to flutter around him. Your blood drips down his jaw, glinting in the low light of the living room. You don’t think he’s ever looked more handsome.

Without a thought in your mind, you pull him in with the hand you still have placed on the back of his head - pressing your lips to his in a messy kiss. You can taste your own blood, even more so when he slips his tongue past your parted lips with a groan. It’s sloppy and crude, blood and drool smearing against both of your faces as you drink each other in. “Wenn ich ein b-besserer Mann wäre, würde ich d-dich heiraten.” He gasps against you after pulling away minutely, such filthy noises spilling from his lips and falling straight into yours. “Du verdienst alles.”

Your fingers fist into his hair, now gripping hard enough that you know it would hurt him if he could feel it. But he couldn’t, so you just tug harder as his length slides against your convulsing core.

“Toby-“ You cry in an attempt to warn him of your impending release, but he doesn’t even need you to.

“I-I know, baby. I know.” Toby groans, then leaning in just a little closer again to catch your bottom lip between his teeth. You’re expecting it now before he even spilts it with his canines. You can’t even taste it when blood gushes into your mouth, your tastebuds already completely coated in that metallic tang. “G-Give it to me.” He rasps out once he tears his teeth from the supple flesh.

And you do, you give him everything. One hand pulling his hair until his scalp went raw, and the other one clawing at his bicep - you tumble over the edge for the second time in a flurry of gasps and moans. Your legs lock around his hips, squeezing him tight as your cunt just squeezes harder - pulsing around him, sucking him in like you never wanted to let him go.

You didn’t. You could die like this and be a happy woman. “A-Ah, fuck.” Toby groans out, head dropping low as he fucks into you with even more vigour. Chasing his own release while prolonging yours. With stars in your eyes and ears ringing, your body trembles beneath him as his hips begin to stutter.

And you suppose you should’ve predicted what he did next. Right as you feel him start to throb inside you, he reaches for your hand and yanks it from where it had been gripping his shoulder. Toby seizes your wrist, letting out a gravelly moan just before he presses his lips to your forearm.

Teeth break skin again right as you feel him spill inside you. Hot ropes of his release, pulled in deep by your still convulsing body. Even hotter waves of painful pleasure washing over you like he had cast a spell.

His thrusts go lazy, still pumping into you as his spend gushes out around his softening cock - just adding to the mess you’re already coated in. He pulls out of your body first, then tugs his teeth from your arm second.

When he looks back to you, you feel your joints go gooey. His eyes are so warm and satisfied as he parts his lips, holding your gaze as his tongue darts out to lick at your newest wound. It’s comforting in the strangest way, and it’s the sickest form of sweetness when he’s pressing kisses to it just moments later.

He does that for every single one. Peppering kisses against each tooth shaped indentation, lapping at the blood until you’re left (relatively) clean. Raw, red puncture wounds that had already begun to swell, but each kiss makes the throbbing dull.

“S-Sorry.” He murmurs softly, lips brushing against your sensitive skin. “Y-You don’t even ha-have to say it. I know I-I went too far.”

Your body feels like it’s been drained of all of its energy, weak and sore all over, but you still force yourself to shake your head. Your arms feel like they’re made of lead when you lift them, pain rippling from your neck downwards - but you wrap them around him anyway.

“No you didn’t.” You whisper back, with a throat so raw that your voice comes out hoarse. “I’m alright.”

Toby relaxes a little at your gentle reassurance, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck and letting out a shaky sigh.

“Y-You sure?” He asks, just to be certain. You were still trembling, muscles sore and stiff as you held him close. “I-If you hate me now, I wouldn’t buh-blame you.”

You let out a short breath through your nose and shake your head again.

“I could never hate you.”

—————————————————————————☆

the toby brainworms were eating me alive so I started writing this and then just kept writing and writing and ended up with 10k words of pure filth

if my invite request ever gets accepted on ao3 I’ll post it there too but for now this is a tumblr exclusive lols

thanks for reading! ♡

[imsofreakingtired]

I am so so so so sorry if this is too close to nsfw (in my head it's very fluff/comfort but I apologise if it makes you uncomfortable bc I'm not sure), but thinking about Sevika w/ a partner who's been pressured by their ex's into doing things like sexually and her just reassuring them that like no baby I wanna hold you what r you talking ab I've been here all of 15 seconds I'm not tryna fuck calm down

And her partner who is so so surprised wdym ??? You just wanna spoon me isn't this the part where you grope my chest and Sevika is like BABY NO

I don't know I'm using her to cope this is so self indulgent I just wanna hear your thoughts on it

i love this idea, thank you for the request anon...and shitt this one was so personally relatable to me 😔

things i wanna say to you

content warning(s): mentions of trauma from past relationships, angst, hurt/comfort

"there's things i wanna say to you, but i'll just let you live like if you hold me without hurting me you'll be the first who ever did."

~~~

“Your beauty…it’s a blessing.”

It’s a sentence that returns and returns to you. It’s a truth you hold in your hands, or wear on your shoulders like a mantle you can’t take off. You have heard it, in one form or another, from the lips of lover to lover. They whispered it to you in the heat of sex, like a special confession only for you, and then vanished like a vapor. 

Your body is like a hotel, you think—a pretty room that people pass through and love only in the moment. When was the last time you were held without the other person’s hands hungrily seeking your breasts? When was the last time you were kissed without their hands roaming your body like an impatient, starved animal? 

Once, you had worked up the courage to confront them. You told them, “hands off.” You don’t exactly remember how the conversation went. But you know that it ended in them laughing in your face, suggesting you work at Babette’s if you wanted compensation for your body. 

When they were gone, you stood in the silent room and wondered if they were right. You wondered if it was your fault. If your body was the only good thing, the only worthy thing about you. If you were nothing more than a pretty face and a blank canvas waiting to be ruined. If you were asking too much when you asked for even just a shadow of respect. 

You stopped speaking after that. 

~~~

Shortly after you began to work for Silco as his record scribe, you met his henchwoman, Sevika. Immediately you knew she was different. She didn’t look at you the way others did—in fact, she barely looked at you at all. When she spoke to you she looked down at you over her hooked nose, her handsome, perfect nose, in a way that made you feel both insignificant and the only woman in the entire world. She didn’t give you flattery about your appearance, spoke bluntly when you made mistakes. 

Still you caught her staring at you from time to time when she thought you were too immersed in work to notice. But her face betrayed nothing. Her brows were always drawn together as if everything in the world annoyed her. You assumed she was only scrutinizing the way you worked. You wondered if Silco had ordered her to monitor you, assess your performance. You worked harder as a result, feeling oddly gratified to be watched for a reason other than your appearance. 

So one could imagine your shock when Sevika strode up to your desk one morning and said, “get your coat. Walk with me.” 

From that day on, you were hers. 

~~~

The first night you moved into her apartment had been a hard day at work. You had been at the desk all day without a single break, trying frantically to keep up with the endless flow of Shimmer shipment records and orders. Sevika had been on her feet from dawn to dusk—you hadn’t seen her for two consecutive minutes even though you worked in the same building. 

The night had deepened, the sky outside dusted with faint stars. You were undressing for bed. If you were tired, how exhausted must Sevika be? You paused in front of the mirror before you slipped the nightshirt over your body. Maybe she would want to let off some steam. Maybe she expected it from you. Hesitantly, you put the nightshirt on. You didn’t want to, but you felt like you owed it to her. Like she deserved it.

Sevika came in, her mechanical arm detached and water glistening on her face from a quick wash. She smiled slightly when she saw you waiting on the bed. “There’s my girl. C’mere.”

She sank into the bed you now shared with her, and obediently you crawled over and folded yourself into her embrace. Her right arm curled around you protectively. Her warmth, her strength, the tautness of her muscles against your skin. It was heavenly. 

She sighed into your neck, and it made you shiver slightly. The question tiptoed to the end of your tongue: can we…can we maybe just stay like this? 

But you feared she would say no. You feared she would be mad. And leave you. 

You waited for her to make the next move, to start pulling the shirt over your head, or turn you around so she could grope between your legs. When several seconds passed and she did nothing, you realized that maybe she was waiting for you. 

Reluctantly, you pulled yourself away and began to take off your shirt. 

Sevika sat up, confused. “What are you doing?”

You freeze in your movements. Your shirt falls back down over your chest. “I—you don’t want to…?”

She shook her head, lips curling in a bemused smile. “Baby, relax. I’ve been here fifteen seconds.”

Slowly, you returned to her, and she pulled you close once more. Sevika felt the shudder of relief that went through your body. Though you didn’t see it, her face creased with concern. She had noticed the apprehension in your eyes, nearly bordering on fear. And she made a mental note to herself to find whatever fucker had hurt you and made you so scared. 

~~~

[kamospeach]

told you i like gentle giants so you softened up .ᐟ

plot: ceo!sukuna and the woman he was forced to marry finally learning to get along.

content warning: none at all. it's not 18+ but if i make a fic it will be.

peachy's yap: i wanna make this into a fic but im not 100% sure yet, lmk ! no smut just a small fluff to test out the waters. one last one shot coming until i go on a lil break.

this wasn't what you wanted at all. ever since you were a little girl you planned to get married to a caring man. years later give birth to a love child hold he or she in your arms as you and your loving husband smiled at one another.

that dream was gone now and here you were a year after your wedding. terrified to even knock on the door of his study knowing his temper was off the wall at the moment. when you were cooped up in your hobby room you could hear him barking orders. while you sat in silence writing novel after novel he forbade you to publish.

this was your everyday, wake up alone, eat alone, write alone, shower alone, watch movies alone, and even go to sleep alone. he was in his study night and day until his hefty body slipped into your shared bed waking you at 2am. he didn't bother to apologize he just turned away going to sleep himself. and yet you found yourself wanting to be close to sukuna.

you sighed already knowing the conversation you both were bound to have today... just like every month for the last year. you were given to him for your writing and negotiating skills. his father the previous boss offered to pay your father millions to suspend the contract at your job for you to work for them. all for money. you raised your hand knocing on the wretched door.

you and sukuna moved into this house 6 months ago and it felt like you'd been locked away in a tower. although sukuna never listened to your ideas or let you have your way about anything he left the house details to you. he stood back as you worked with the sketchy architect who purposely looked down your blouse (his words).

he let you pick out the number of rooms, and bathrooms. the ceiling height, the shape of the pool, even how many patio chairs you wanted. he let you decorate the house pick the colors, even would let you throw splashes of pink and purple where ever you pleased. but you never did it, you didn't want to do it if not with sukuna.

but to sukuna none of this mattered because his work was more important. in his words he said 'i'll let you deal with less important matters. at least im positive you won't fuck that up.' did that statement hurt? hell yeah but even then you still wanted to be close to him.

"s...sukuna?" you stuttered waiting to hear his gruff voice.

"get in here." he said sternly and you pushed the heavy doors open, struggling at the weight. once you pushed in you stood by the door hands behind your back fingers laced. "sit." he said pointing to the chair in front of his desk and you scurry not wanting to anger him.

"i'm sorry i didn't come sooner i was writing and i had a idea i couldn't lose." you plead his eyes never left yours. he face expression neither annoyed nor pleased.

"why must you continue writing, when you have a duty to fulfill here." he grumbled and you looked down at your thumbs.

"sukuna you wont let me go with you to negotiate that's all m'good for." you say and he scoffs at your excuse.

"you are here to write contracts and negotiate deals you have not done any of that over the last year!" he said his voice raising, by no means were you a push over. scared of this big, brolic, hunk definitely but one thing you'll never be is a punk.

"you have yet to assign me any work. i know what you'll say 'you should come ask me if there's anything to do' but you are my boss. you instruct i follow, i refuse to do anything for you if you can not request it on your own." your reply was calm, you didn't want to anger him further.

"i don't want to overwhelm you," he sighs. his strict facade dropping as he handed you papers and you hum. looking down at the papers it was full of stats and numbers that made your head spin. "this is everyday work for me, i need your help but i must figure it out alone."

"the numbers are a bit crazy but it's not much to find a way to make a deal that'll pretty up the numbers." you tell him and he nods.

"how?" he asked and you looked up at him. this was the first time sukuna had asked for your help. you were shocked that he even let you know that he needed help.

"i mean your the statistics man. once you work out the numbers we can talk negotiating." you tell him with a smile hoping the sly compliment of him being good with numbers didn't slip past him. his red eyes looked up at you through his thick lashes. the corner of his lips tugging upwards as if he wanted to smile and couldn't.

this day was the first day you sat next to sukuna behind his desk. your knees touched and even that amount of contact was enough for you. you helped him clean up his desk and he didn't object he just said 'make sure you put them where i tell you'. and you did picking up the papers on his desk and organizing them for him. placing them in different stacks based off who and what they were from.

little did you know sukuna admired your every move. he watched how you walked around his office complaining about how dull it was. how your curls bounced with every step you took. he watched you search up paint colors and decor for his office. not once did this distract him, he either hummed in agreement or disagreement as he worked on the numbers.

even days later the connection between sukuna and you began to grow. he listened to your opinions and even stepped out of his office during the day. he came to your writing room to sit and drink coffee with you at 3am when you felt like you had a good idea. he even showed you the room you called the 'junk room' that was quite literally filled with sukuna's junk. he pulled out an electric guitar bragging about how it was signed by one of the best.

he tells you the name as you face scrunches up in confusion never hearing of this man ever. but even your disinterest in that didn't deter his sheer audacity and gall. he called you a degenerate and said you were a bug under a rock. you replied with 'more like a boulder' as you looked him up and down judgingly.

this comment made sukuna laugh, yes actually laugh. from that day you never held in a joke, letting anything on your mind loose. sometimes sukuna would look at you as if you said the stupidest shit on earth. most times he'd shake his head with an endearing smile but 2 times out of 10 he'd laugh.

day after day the more time you spent with sukuna the more you were pulled out of the depression. you watched movies of families with a smile even thinking about having a child with that demon.

in return sukuna became more comfortable approaching you. initially he was scared to anger you or say something that would hurt your feelings. heading his father's warning 'don't talk to her too much. you know how you are, you'll hurt her feelings.' so he listened avoided starting conversation, leaving the bed before you woke up and coming in after you fell asleep. ate in his office and never ever entered your writing room.

that day you came in and told him he was your boss changed his brain chemistry. his father was wrong, he wouldn't hurt your feelings because you wanted him to act like your boss. you could dish it out and take it. that day was when sukuna thought to himself 'i could really get used to this'.

that's why after a month of the two of finally getting along sukuna instructed you to meet him at the dining table. dining table was a stretch as it only had 2 chairs. as you waited for him assuming it was about work you were shocked for sukuna to slam down your houses floorplan.

"it's about time we made this house into a home don't ya think?" he asked looking at you and you smiled. and the two of you sat there all night you sipping on a shirley temple and he drank whiskey. he promised he'd make you cocktails from now on since you found out he was a bartender for all of 3 months.

you planned and brainstormed until the next morning. you were leaned on the table drool coming out of your mouth. sukuna smiled at how comfortable you had became around him. he lifted you and carried you up the stairs. that was the first day sukuna felt like he was really a husband. that day was when sukuna swore to himself that he would be a husband.

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki x reader (fem) | villain!reader, prohero!dynamight.

a.n; a bit of context for this little idea i had yesterday (LINK HERE). 😉🌟should i make it a serie?? 👀

The war lasted years. Years that brought not only destruction but losses that hurt deep in the soul. Years in which the whole world changed, including people. Deaths, injuries, betrayals. Wins and loses.

It took years to bring Shigaraki and his whole team down, but once it was done, Bakugou remembers clearly turning toward his best friend, Izuku, and hugging him so tight.

None of them will admit it, or at least Katsuki won't, but they both cried in that embrace.

Bakugou also remembers you.

You, who once used to fight alongside him and the rest of his hero friends. You, who knew them all from your first year at UA, because you had also been a classmate. You, who had shared laughs, cries, and many moments with them. You, who chose to betray them all and turn to Shigaraki's side.

He still remembers when it happened.

You had been right by his side; actually, back-to-back covering for him in the middle of a fight. Suddenly, the sun was clouded, leaving a gloomy and terrifying tension in the air.

"Enough!" A deep male voice roared, making everyone silent, heroes and villains alike. Bakugou felt your body tensing, and he immediately knew something was wrong.

"Y/N, stop this nonsense right now."

Bakugou turned and saw you looking straight ahead towards the voice. Your chest raised and lowered rapidly thanks to your breathing, he didn't know if it was because of the fight you both had recently been in or because you were afraid.

"Come. Now."

Bakugou didn't understand, or maybe he did but he didn't want to. But he definitely felt a sort of heaviness in his chest when he heard you murmur to him "I'm sorry" and walked towards the man.

He tried to stop you by grabbing your wrist, but you never turned to look at him. You simply shook his hand away and walked towards the villain.

"Don't make it any more dramatic, you stupid hero. She has always been one of us." The man smiled devilishly, an arm surrounding your shoulders once you stood by his side.

Bakugou felt like vomiting at that image.

Your betrayal felt heavy on everyone. But especially on Katsuki.

Why? Why did you do it? There had to be a reason behind your actions. You didn't even go willingly, he knew that. He saw it. He knew it had to be under some threat or something.

He just couldn't accept the fact that the only person he had felt any sort of feeling besides annoyance towards, could not be a villain. You were not a villain.

However, that's the title the government sentenced you under after the war. And how everyone saw you. A villain, someone who betrayed them.

You are a villain, who has been sentenced to a whole life in prison after the war was over, alongside many other villains. Many other people who betrayed the hero side too.

Katsuki had been at your trial when the sentence was declared. He and others too. Izuku, Mina, Sero, Ochako, Shoto and Denki. Many were missing, many were dead.

You were standing, the first one in a line of other betrayers, clearly on purpose, just to put more shame on your person for your decisions. And behind you were people like Hawks, Inasa, Koda and Jiro, among others. A system of anti-Quirk chains connecting all of you by the ankles and wrists.

"This is... unfair," Round cheeks sighed, eyes glossy, watching the people they knew. Or used to know.

Several mmhs agreed with her. Including Katsuki.

Call him biased, he'll fucking blast you to pieces, but he was sure you didn't have a choice. Something happened that made you turn, and he was going to fucking find out what happened.

Even if after the judge read your crimes and asked you how pleaded yourself and you simply said, "guilty", with a raspy, clearly hurting voice, yet your stance was neutral, cold even.

Bakugou Katsuki didn't believe it for one second.

He kicked away an empty cardboard box that was on the ground, clearly showing his anger, as everyone walked out of the courtroom.

"This is bullshit," Sero groaned, pissed off too.

"There's something we could do," Mina declared firmly, making everyone turn around to her as she was the last one leaving the room. "Follow me."

They were all standing outside now, in an adjacent alley from the Court of Law where the sentence had been made.

"Spill it." They were all alone now, no media, no civilians.

"Yeah, what did you mean, Mina?" Ochako took a step closer to her friend, clearly anxious.

"I heard this from lawyers yesterday at the girls' restroom in the CoL. They didn't know I was there too, so they were talking freely. One of them said that she was surprised no one mentioned one of the protections of one specific law regarding certain cases. Cases where heroes are undercover, where they have to join villains."

Katsuki took a step closer, full attention to what Mina was saying. All of them were paying attention.

"They said that probably that law wasn't brought into the defense because they have no defense. They are just taking the blame for the war because that's what the government wants. Someone to point at, someone to blame."

"Fucking pieces of shit."

"Oh my God, that's horrible!" Ochako cried, hugging herself.

"I understand it now. It's perfect for them. They once fought alongside us, but then they turned, probably under government directions to play undercover. And now they are taking the blame because there isn't enough evidence that can help them, that says the contrary. Or they don’t want to show it." Izuku analyzed, crossing his arms over his chest, eyebrows frowning in thought, clearly activating his "nerd mode".

"Well, that would apply to some of them," Denki said, the anger clear in every feature of his.

"What does that mean?" Sero asked, but he didn’t seem confused. More like, indignation making its way into him.

"Please. We all clearly know who I'm talking about." 

All eyes traveled to Katsuki.

"Don't you dare fucking say it."

"Come on, Bakugou! She was right beside you when it happened! Her freaking father called out to her and she went! She fucking chose to turn to their side!"

Before Katsuki even decided to move towards Denki, Izuku and Sero were already holding him back, each one grabbing him by his arms and pushing him away.

“Who do you fucking think you are, huh?! She took a fucking bullet for you, you asshole! You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for her, that same person you’re fucking accusing-...”

“She still betrayed us! She betrayed YOU.”

A growl left Katsuki’s mouth that could have frightened even All Might in his prime era, followed by a strong push that made Izuku and Sero activate their Quirks to hold their friend back. Uselessly.

But before he could reach where Denki was waiting for him, already electricity dancing around him, Mina stood right in between them, making Bakugou abruptly stop in his run in front of her.

“Cut it out! Both of you!” She yelled, “This is not the moment for this!” She told them off, scowling at each of them. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Denki, but if this is about Jiro,” Mina’s voice trembled, clearly upset about recognizing another of her dear friends who betrayed them. Denki’s hands closed in fists tightly, just like his eyes, as if the name physically injured him, “it’s the same as Y/N…”

“No, it’s not! She didn’t have another choice!”

“And what the fuck makes you think Y/N did?!” Katsuki yelled back.

“She walked away willingly!”

“Jiro did too!”

“I said, enough! Stop yelling!” Mina interfered again, “We are not going to do what everyone else is doing. We are not blaming our friends if we don’t know exactly what happened.”

“The only way to know is if we try to contact them, and all sorts of communications are restricted,” Ochako offered sadly.

Mina nodded, “If you all are done yelling, I was about to tell you guys how we can get them out of there.”

Bakugou buffed one last time, feeling Izuku’s hand on his bicep, pulling him away softly. The message was clear, “stand down, Kacchan, and calm down”. He took a deep breath and let Izuku drag him a few steps back.

Everyone’s attention was back on Mina, as she explained in good detail what they were going to do.

a.n; just so everyone is aware, i do NOT make taglists. sorry. don't hate me, please🥺

[zepskies]

All righty, here we go, diving into more of the angsty love triangle!! *rubs hands together* 😈

However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.

Oooh my God, poor Dean. 🫣 This is literally torture for him! lol

When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you.

I had a feeling this was why he insisted on her living in the room next to his, our big protective man, but now it's coming back to bite him in the ass. 💀

He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.

He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.

Sobbbiiiiiingggg -- oh Dean. 😭😭

It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.

God Dean! You can only bury your emotions under assholery and anger for so long. He can hate the fact that she's a hunter and want more for her, but he has to accept that it's her choice, and he can support her and be honest with her rather than succumbing to his assholery. 🥲🥲

But of course, his "I'm not worthy" mentality crops up as well. 🙃 Makes you want to throttle him (if in more than one way lmao)!!

The thought that he was suffering so much while trying to find her when she was in another world is also heartbreakingly on-brand for him. He'd so be tearing through every piece of lore and resource to try and get her back. 😭

"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother. Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.

💀💀💀 Come on now, Dean, don't be petty. 🤣

"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted." But I do want her.

TELL HIM, SAM. SHAKE HIM UNTIL HIS GREEN EYES ROLL INTO HIS HEAD -- make him see how he's acting!! lol

Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.

Gahhh pain. so very pain, even though it hurts so good. 😭😭😭

Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.

"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."

Omggg finally!! Finally Dean's being honest about how he feels without being a dick about it. 😪

But he didn't, he never did.  And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.

Ughhh such soul-rendering description, and the spice here is oh so delicious. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

But I have to point out that the reading is having a DAY loll. Two beefcakes in one night?? 😏

(Also, I'm afraid of how Ben is gonna take this. 😬)

"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."

Oh sure, pretend she meant nothing to you to spare your deep-down man feelings. 🙄

"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.

LMAOO Ben vs. Technology -- I think we all know who's winning. 🤣

And Ben secretly liking therapy just so he just has someone to vent to for an hour? Be still my heart, honestly. 😭

The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield. He thought it was cute.

OMGGGGG I'M WEEAAAAK -- and he's already clocking IT girl's cuteness, I'm dead. 😂💞 The way he's already starting to like her better? I see what you did there. 😉

"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.

ahaha you charmer, you. 😂 A swoon-worthy line, even if we do know how sleazy this man can be lol. She really has no idea what she's getting into with this guy, but I love to imagine that with this nicely wrapped up ending! 💕💕

Part 3: Why Is It A Big Deal?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader

POV: Dean POV, Reader POV, Soldier Boy/Ben POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Enemies to Lovers, Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, ANGST, Crossover

Word Count: 12.4K (I PROMISE I DIDN'T MEAN TO)

Listen While You Read: Treat You Better By Shawn Mendes

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing, Making Out, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex, Jealousy, A little homophobia (it’s Soldier Boy), Feelings, Angst, Self Deprecating Thoughts? References to Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy Being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning). Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

A/N: It's finally here! I have loved the return to this universe more than words can describe. Each of the POV's are crazy in their own way. And again, don't forget to read the fic "Stranded" by @justagirlinafandomworld that inspired me to write this series in the first place! ENJOY!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Dean POV

Dean leaned back on his bed at the bunker and jammed the pillow further down around his ears over his headphones. He was listening to a mixtape that he had burned forever ago, chosen because it had the loudest drum solos blaring through his Walkman. However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.

Dean had tried his best to get Sam on his side when he proposed the idea that Ben didn't have to come back to the bunker and instead should be sent be sent back to wherever the hell he came from right then and there, but Cas was still out doing whatever it was he was doing, which meant that Ben was going to stick around for a little longer.

And it meant that Ben was finally getting his wish… you.

Dean's teeth gritted together when he heard another moan over the sound of the cymbals and felt a white hot spike of something in the pit of his stomach burn through his body.

When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you. But other than the time you stubbed your toe and Dean kicked down the door when he heard you yell with his gun drawn, there hadn't been an emergent situation that required his help.

Right now he was regretting the decision to have you live next door wholeheartedly, because it meant that he was having a front row seat to everything Ben and you were doing in your bedroom.

Dean sighed, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried not to imagine what was happening, but he kept having flashes skate across his mind. He didn't want to see what it looked like or sounded like to have Ben's name tumbling from your lips, all Dean wanted was to hear you say his name like that and to be the one making you fall apart beneath him.

Not some asshole from another universe.

The image of you laying under him back at the school came back to him in a wave, pushing away the revulsion momentarily. He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.

He hadn't even made love to you and you laying there on top of you felt more intimate than any experience he'd had in his life. Dean wanted to exist in that moment with you a little longer, to savor those last few seconds of you staring up at him as if he was the only person in the world.

The memory of Ben kissing you after followed. Dean remembered the way Ben's lips roughly took from you and the way he held on to your face and it snapped Dean out of it. It hurt him more that you let Ben kiss you after Dean had been the one to save you.

Fuck.

His teeth gritted hard together so tight that he heard them grind. He hated watching you with Ben, hated watching Ben do the one thing that Dean had wanted to do for years. And Dean also hated the way that Ben treated you, as if you were something to be possessed and showed off, as if you weren't smart or anything more than just beautiful.

Dean had known from the first moment he saw you in Ellen's bar years ago that you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire life. You were funny, kind, sarcastic, and had a hard edge that you'd developed after years of being a hunter, but there was something else, a softer side of you that you didn't let everyone see, something hidden beneath it all that you only allowed yourself to have whenever Sam was around, but never with Dean.

It made him hate his brother a little bit, seeing how effortlessly the two of you had developed a friendship, while Dean had to practically Heimlich you to talk to him.

Dean wanted to see that side of you so badly. He wanted you to smile at him the soft way you smiled at Sam, and wanted you to laugh at his jokes or tease him playfully about his hair or about what he was wearing that day the way he'd seen you with his brother.

He tried to find reasons to be in the same room as you, drifting to sit nearby while you read or watched a movie. You always seemed different then. Your body was relaxed, open, with just a hint of a smile curving on the edge of your lips that made Dean want to stare at you for the rest of his life.

He tried to make you laugh whenever he could and tried his best to impress you, but each time he did you'd only roll your eyes and make a sarcastic comment. You didn't like him, Dean knew that, but he wished you did.

Sure he was maybe a little harsh on you sometimes, but Dean didn't want anything to happen to you, he was trying to protect you, because he knew the moment he stopped caring so much would be the moment he lost you.

He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.

He hadn't felt like this about anyone else ever, and he didn't know what to do with his feelings. Bottling them up only seemed to hurt him more, but whenever something happened on a hunt or you tried to split away from him and Sam, he panicked and said things that he shouldn't instead of the three little words that he'd been wanting to say to you for years.

That's what happened a few weeks ago on a hunt, when you went into a house alone and faced a poltergeist that threw you across the room and into a glass cabinet. Dean had stood there yelling at you trying to tell you how stupid it had been for you to go in alone, while biting back what he really wanted to say- that he couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you because looking at you was like watching the fireflies along a misty road at dusk, each one lighting a path in the darkness that showed him the way.

Yes he was angry, but all Dean saw was the bloody ripped sleeve of your shirt, and the way your face had contorted in pain when Sam picked you up and helped you back to the car. It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.

The truth was he hated that this was your life, hated that you were a hunter and each day you put yourself in danger, because he believed you deserved more. You deserved a normal life with someone who loved you, maybe a few kids, a dog, and a life far from the world that Dean and you knew so well.

Of course the thought of you with anyone else made Dean want to put his fist through a wall. The problem was even though Dean wanted you, he believed that you deserved better than him. You deserved the white picket fence and suburbia, not a darkened bunker underground with a man who wasn't sure he still had anything good left.

It was the reason why he didn't want to tell you how he felt, that, and Dean believed you absolutely hated him and hated being around him in the first place. It's why he buried it beneath the surface for so long.

However, when he was looking at you Dean often forgot the things that happened to him. You made him want to keep getting back up to fight if not for anyone else, for you.

But then Ben had shown up.

When you'd gotten dragged to another universe, Dean had tried everything in his power to get you back. He'd screamed and prayed for Cas so loud and so many times he went hoarse, he'd looked through almost every book he knew of to find the spell to bring you back to no avail, tried several rituals that promised results but gave him nothing, looked at his computer screen for so long that it made him cross-eyed, and drank coffee so strong it made his heart race.

But all Dean knew was that you were somewhere else alone, where he couldn't get to you or protect you, and it made him sick. He hated the thought of you alone trying to fight your way to survival in a place like the Endverse. When Cas finally came five days later and helped Dean bring you back, Dean had been so happy to see you that he'd almost hugged you, but instead he'd made an off-brand joke and you'd run into Sam's arms for a hug that made his chest tight.

Dean thought that he was having a nightmare when he saw Ben, a man who looked so much like himself, stride into the motel room confidently and kiss you. Dean was waiting for you to push him away, to tell him to fuck off, but you didn't, you liked it. And judging by the sounds Dean was hearing through the wall he could see that you wanted Ben.

All it did was piss Dean off that another version of himself got to have you and he didn't. Not when he'd known you longer and you'd only known Ben for five days.

Five fucking days. She's known that asshole for five days and she likes him. She's known you for years and she can't even stand to be in the same room with you.

The thought made Dean's heart clench in his chest. He didn't understand what Ben had that he didn’t have, he was him after all as Dean kept saying over and over to you. But Dean knew that deep down the real thing he was telling you over and over was not that Ben was him, but rather was asking the question: "why not me?"

Does she really hate me that much that she can't stand the thought of being with me? That she can stand to be with someone who looks exactly like me, but can't stay in a room with me for more than ten seconds?

Dean gets out of bed, stomps out the door, and down the hallway towards the library to try and escape the sounds coming from your room. They vibrate down the hall after him, like a flock of seagulls, mocking him all the way and doing little to ease the anger and jealousy swirling beneath his skin.

Sam is sitting in a chair with a large volume in front of him and a piece of notebook paper scribbling furiously when Dean enters the library, but he doesn't appear surprised to see his brother.

"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother.

Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.

Sam gives him a sympathetic look, and pushes his long hair back behind his ears. "Sorry. I'm researching a case in Kentucky, but Cas said that he'd be back in a few hours-"

"He said that ages ago! I want that asshole gone now." Dean's hand tightens on the arm of the chair, so tight that his knuckles are white.  He was happy that the library seemed to be far enough away from your room to escape the noise, but he knew it was happening, which didn’t help at all. "I don’t understand what she sees in that dick."

Sam hesitates for a moment, tapping his pen against the notebook paper.

"Just spit it out Sammy." Dean sighs.

"He might be an asshole to you, but not to her." He replies simply.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Well you're kinda…" Sam shrugs and leans back into his chair trying to find the words.

"I'm kinda what?"

"You’re kinda a dick to her." He finishes. "She's getting fed up with it. The other day she told me that she's been thinking about moving out and going back on her own. I've been trying to talk her out of it-"

Dean's blood ran cold. He hated the thought of you leaving again, it meant that he wouldn't know where you were or if you were alive and he wouldn't be able to make sure you were prepared for a hunt or at least be there to have your back if something went wrong- because let's face it, something always went wrong. "What? What the hell are you taking about?! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she hasn't made up her mind."

"But why?"

"Because ever since the first time we’ve been going on hunts with her, you’ve been rude and-"

Dean interrupts his brother with a shout. "What? Do you expect me to hold her fucking hand? We’ve seen experienced hunters get killed out there with one simple mistake! And she’s just some amateur-"

"Dean, she's not an amateur." Sam sighs as if he can't understand why Dean was being so difficult.

He was. Sam was used to it whenever the subject of you came up in front of Dean, but honestly his brother's stubborn attitude when it came to you was annoying him.

"She is!" Dean snaps back wishing that he had a beer.

"No, she’s not." Sam shakes his head. "She’s been doing this just as long as we have. You know who her mom was and you know that her mom was just as hard on her as our dad was on you-"

At the mention of their father, Dean can feel his jaw tighten, memories flashing across his mind that he wanted to forget. The cold feeling of disapproval begins to creep up his spine to his shoulders, but Dean shakes it off. "That doesn’t matter."

"I think it does."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, Dean you keep saying that he’s you, but I'm starting to think that she's you."

"You need to stop using all those hair products Sammy, they're messing with your head-" Dean scoffs.

"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted."

But I do want her.

The thought rises before Dean could stop it and he wonders if you'd spent all these years thinking that he didn't want you around when it was all he thought about. Every decision he made was to try and protect you, to put you first, and the thought that you didn't see that hurt him.

"I'd never hurt her-" Dean's voice comes out a little softer and more broken than he meant it to, catching slightly on the words.

Sam shakes his head. "Not physically. But the two of you have been doing this for years and I think that she's sick of you treating her the way you do and then she met Ben. She met another version of you who appreciates her. I know that you’re a little jealous-"

"I am not jealous!" Dean says on instinct, but Sam knows the truth, he's always known the truth, and Dean knows it too.

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother. "You should talk to her. Take Ben out of it and talk to her the way you talk to other people."

"I talk to her like I talk to other people." Dean grumbles as he gets up out of his chair intent on going to the kitchen to get a beer or something stronger to take the edge off.

"No you don't. So go talk to her." Sam waves a hand in Dean's direction before his gaze drops back down to the book.

"She's kinda preoccupied." Dean mutters under his breath and the image of you and Ben tangled up in your bed makes him flinch.

Sam looks up at his brother again, sympathy flashing in his eyes. "Dean-"

"Just leave me alone Sammy."

And with that he turns and makes his way towards the kitchen, hoping that he won't be able to hear Ben and you, and wishing that you hadn't met Ben in the first place.

Reader POV

Ben mutters something in his sleep, rolling his body towards yours so close that his muscular right arm brushes against your bare shoulder. He was laying on his stomach, his face pressed into one of your many pillows, snoring softly, and taking up most of your bed.

It wasn't hard to. The full sized bed was hardly big enough for you, let alone two people, especially not someone as tall and broad as Ben. Which became more obvious when you noticed that Ben's feet were hanging off the end.

You sigh, laying on your back and staring up at the cracks in your ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You followed each one with your eyes, tracing the shapes they made like someone watching the clouds on a hill bathed in sunlight. You'd thought that after everything Ben and you did for the past two hours you'd be able to fall asleep as easily as he did, but you couldn't because your mind was awake and roaming everywhere it could.

It wasn't that you hadn't had a good time with Ben or hadn't wanted to have sex with him. Ben didn't force you into anything. You wanted to have sex with him. You had missed him and it had been a while for you, and you liked Ben. The problem was that now, after, there was an odd feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach, something that felt surprisingly like guilt.

I have nothing to be guilty about.

You chide yourself, hands curling and uncurling on the edge of the blanket the longer you stared up at the ceiling. But it was still there, bubbling up beneath the surface. Your mind kept slipping back into the memory of Dean and you in the broken auditorium.

Each time you closed your eyes you were back in Dean's arms, looking up at him while he pushed your hair out of your face and asked you if you were alright, his eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like worry. He'd never acted gentle or caring like that before with you and you still felt odd from everything that happened.

Fuck. What is happening to me? I just spent the last two hours with Ben, I shouldn’t be thinking about anyone else but-

You sigh again and shut your eyes, but it just brings the image back to haunt you.

You hadn't had any thoughts like this about Dean, not ever, and you didn't know why now. You'd spent years thinking that he was a big jerk who hated you, but the Dean you saw earlier today was far from that.

In the past, Dean had your back a few times, but it hadn't been like earlier. He'd never held you close, covered you with his body as if he didn't care what happened to himself as long as you were safe, and he'd never brushed your hair away with such tenderness it made your heart flutter in your chest.

No. Dean has been a total dick from the moment I met him, he hates me, he-

The thought stutters to a stop when the hurt and jealousy in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben comes flashing back through your mind.

Does he? Or did I just interpret that wrong? Maybe it was just the hatred he had towards Ben flaring but… why does he hate Ben? He has no reason to.

But despite everything that Dean had done to you over the years, you didn't hate him.

Even though he tap danced on your last nerve whenever he opened his mouth and often made you feel stupid you couldn't, not when you saw the way he cared so much for other people. Dean Winchester was selfless, he always put other people first and was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant someone else got to be happy and got to live.

You glance at the man lying in the bed next to you. Ben was handsome and strong. He possessed some of the qualities of Dean that you found attractive, but he treated you differently. It was what drew you to him when you got trapped in Ben's reality, not just that he looked like Dean, but that Ben joked with you, teased you, and he seemed to generally care about you.

Dean didn't act that way with you. At least, you'd never seen Dean act that way before today. Today was different than any other day and you wished that it hadn't been.

Ben mutters something else, and this time he leans more towards you, his arm coming up around your waist to hold you against his side. The warmth and weight of it was familiar, but it made the feeling of guilt grow larger in your stomach.

Why is this happening? I didn’t feel guilty the last time I had sex with him.

Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.

Before he'd drifted off Ben had asked you to come with him when Cas sent him back to where he was from, said that he wanted you there with him. You had an inkling that it was the first time that Ben had asked something so serious from a woman. But you weren't convinced that it was because Ben wanted to have a relationship, rather that he didn't want to be alone.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't considering it. Ben was kinder to you, gentle (in his own way), and he seemed to appreciate having you around. But there was something holding you back.

At first you thought it was Sam. He was your best friend and you didn't want to abandon him, but there was another feeling, an ache deep down that you didn't know the cause of. Other than Sam there really wasn't anything in this universe that would hold you back from going with Ben, but obviously there was, you just couldn't figure out what.

Sure Ben's reality was fucked up… yours was too. Demons and Angels duking it out for supremacy while other creatures hid under beds and in the dark to kill people or worse wasn’t ideal either. But you weren't sure what your life could look like there. There wasn't anything to hunt which meant you'd probably be dealing with supes instead and the thought wasn’t appealing. You weren't sure that you belonged in his world.

Maybe I should have asked him to stay with me?

The thought made you bite the inside of your cheek. You'd been thinking about moving out of the bunker. Yes it was the only permanent home you'd ever known, but Dean was getting on your nerves and you thought that maybe you should get a little bit of distance from him. Moving out and Ben staying meant that he could come with you on hunts, but you weren't sure that was the solution either. Ben was strong and brave, but you weren't sure that he had the precision or the delicate side you needed when approaching a hunt to do well here.

It was these thoughts that were keeping you awake and you decide to get some water to clear them.

You slowly begin to slip out from under the covers, gently moving Ben's arm off of you as slowly as you can as to not wake him before you make your way to your dresser to find a clean pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. Ben sighs and shifts in the bed, the sheets pulling down just a little bit so you can admire the expanse of his freckled muscular back.

You'd seen Dean shirtless before once. He had come running out of his room with his gun drawn when you'd stubbed your toe on your bedside table and yelled. He hadn't put on a shirt before coming into your room, just aggressively kicked down the door wearing only a pair of hotdog pajama pants that you did mock him relentlessly for afterward. You didn't know why he'd looked so frantic when you yelled. It was just a toe after all. There wasn't anything for him to be worried about. Sam had showed up maybe ten minutes later rubbing the sleep from his eyes not worried at all.

But you'd remembered how Dean had looked shirtless. Sometimes the thought came flying into your mind at the most inopportune times, when Dean pissed you off and stuck his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips and the warmth of his skin through he air. The thought of him shirtless with his pajama pants hung so low on his hips that you could see every single hard defined muscle of his abdomen including the ones that made smart girls like you stupid.

You slipped on the clothes, but stop before you open the door to cast one more glance at Ben.

Although you knew that Ben and your relationship was more physical, there was a part of you that believed it could grow into something more if you went with him, something that you'd been wanting for a little while. Not just Ben specifically, but with someone.

Yes you were lonely, and Ben lessened the ache whenever he was around, but sometimes you wanted more than this and being a hunter didn’t help at all.

You never met anyone or tried to have a real relationship with anyone in a long time. The last permanent boyfriend you'd had wasn't a hunter, but someone you'd met in a bar after a hunt with Dean and Sam. It lasted Four months. Four months of you missing anniversaries, dates, and his birthday. He'd accused you of cheating on him with Sam and you'd found him in bed with his work partner when you'd tried to surprise him one weekend. You hadn't been surprised. Surprising was when the guy had tried to follow after you and both Dean and Sam had blocked his path and told him to "get lost." That was putting it nicely.

Sam had to hold Dean back from breaking the guy's arm when he shouted over the two of them at you that you "weren't worth the trouble." You didn’t understand why Dean was also just as pissed at the idea of the guy cheating on you as Sam.

You shake off the thought and tiptoe out of the room in the direction of the kitchen.

The bunker was silent, the metal floors cool beneath your bare feet as you walked down the desolate hallways. You glance at Dean's closed door for a moment as you pass and the feeling in the pit of your stomach tightens. A flash of the emotions on his face when you kissed Ben in the car and at the school flickers through your mind and you clench your jaw.

What the hell is wrong with me?

When you enter the kitchen you realize that you're not alone. Dean is leaning over the metal table his large hands braced on the top, his back to you, and his head bowed. A bottle of expensive whiskey sits on the counter in front of him next to a glass with the maple colored liquid inside. But the weird thing was that this wasn't the usual stuff Dean drank. This was the bottle that he had Sam hide from him for emergencies, the stuff that you'd only seen Dean drink when he was really upset and nothing else would cut it.

But what?

He turns when he hears you walk in.

You watch his eyes darken slightly as they skate over what you're wearing making your cheeks flush. You didn’t think he was still awake. If you had, you would have wore more than your favorite Metallica t-shirt that was worn soft from years of wear. Dean's gaze catches on the end of it where it hits mid-thigh, lingering a second too long, and makes something spark in your chest.

"Sorry. I was just getting some water." You clear your throat awkwardly.

"Romeo didn't get it for you?" Dean frowns as if the thought of Ben is an annoyance to him.

"No, he's asleep." You shake your head. "I thought you were asleep too-"

"Kinda hard to be sweetheart when the two of you are shooting a porno in the room next door to mine."

You feel your cheeks flush an even brighter pink. You didn't know that Ben and you were being that loud. The bed was a little squeaky, but you hadn't worried about the sound. The icky feeling in the pit of your stomach is back, the guilt rising in a wave the more you realize how much Dean heard.

Again? Why am I guilty? Ben and I had fun, he didn't force me to do anything. I wanted to have sex with him but-

"I'm sorry. I didn't know we were being that loud." You shake off the feeling and move around Dean to get a glass from one of the shelves.

"Guess he was making up for lost time huh? All those lonely months away from you fucking other women were hard I guess." Dean's words bite through the air and made your own temper flare up.

"He's not cheating on me. We weren't exclusive-"

"But you haven't been with anyone since you came back from his world."

Your hand freezes around the glass you reached for on the shelf. Why did he notice that? And why does he care?

The flicker of emotion in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben in the auditorium comes roaring back, jealousy and hurt. It makes the guilt worse.

You let out a breath to calm the anger that wishes to bite back at Dean's comment. "Look, I know that you don't like him, but Ben isn't a bad person and even though it's not any of your business, we had fun."

You don't know why you felt the need to justify what you'd done with, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Standing here in front of Dean felt awkward, and it never had before. And it wasn't just because of what you were wearing, there was something else charging the air between the two of you. You were expecting a giant purple elephant to appear in the corner.

Dean chuckles, his eyes dark. "Did you now?"

"Yes." You reply, but you can't hold his gaze, not when he's looking at you like that.

Dean takes a long swig from the glass in front of him, his lips curling on the edges in a cruel smirk. This was the Dean you saw more often, the one that made you feel like a failure and a bother, but it was the first time that you longed to see the soft Dean who protected you from the fallen debris.

"I could hear just how much fun the two of you were having sweetheart." He continues. "But the man who isn’t a bad person toasted a woman that he slept with without batting an eye. Imagine what he'd do to you."

"A woman who was going to kill me." You say to defend Ben. "And he wouldn't hurt me."

Dean's eyes flick down to your thighs, his gaze hardening. "What do you call those?"

You glance down at the place where your shirt meets your thighs and notice the bruises. There were five on each leg and each was a perfect imprint of Ben's fingertips. They didn't hurt and you certainly hadn't felt or noticed them before Dean pointed them out.

But you knew that Ben would never hurt you. He wasn't like that.

Sure he killed that woman today, but she was crazy and she was trying to kill me and-

"He didn't it on purpose. He's stronger than us and sometimes-"

"Don't you dare make excuses for that asshole." Dean growls eyes flashing. "I don't care if he didn't do it on purpose, he still did it. He knows how strong he is and if he can't control himself he shouldn't be sleeping with you!"

"You're being ridiculous!" Ice clinks against the sides of your glass as you make your way back towards the sink.

"No, I'm not. And I want him gone!"

"Oh really?" You snark while placing the glass under the running water in the sink. "I had no idea. You've been so calm and collected since the moment Ben showed up."

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but instead huffs out a breath and pours himself another glass. The amber colored liquid splashes against the sides of the cup as Dean violently picks it up to take another drink.

An uncomfortable silence settles over the kitchen.

The water is cold, but you can't feel it when you take a sip, and you still can't quite look at Dean.

If he really is jealous, why can't he just come out and say it? Why is he being so stubborn and nitpicking someone else?

You sigh quietly to yourself and take another sip of water. The guilt was building again, prickling beneath your skin and bringing an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of your stomach the longer you stand there.

Why am I guilty? Dean being jealous has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him!

You think about going back to your room and being done with it, but you can't something is keeping you in that kitchen with Dean just as something is keeping him there with you.

"He-um-" You swallow. "He asked me to back with him to his universe." 

Dean's entire body tenses as he explodes. "What? Are you fucking kidding me!?"

"No I-"

"Are you seriously considering that?" He demands looking at you like you're crazy.

"Yes. I am." You answer him honestly. There's something hidden beneath the surface that makes you want to tell Dean this. You're not sure if it's morbid curiosity or if it's something else, something that you can't quite place, but you want Dean to tell you what he thinks.

"But why?! You've known that asshole for five days!" Dean snaps back, but you can hear something in his voice, almost as if he's holding himself back from saying something else.

Dean please just say it! Don't keep it in!

"He's not an asshole, he's just rough around the edges." You shrug continuing to make excuses for Ben and thinking about the bruises on your thighs.

"Oh please." Dean rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head you wonder how they didn't get stuck on his brain. "If I took a piece of tree bark and ran it along his arm, he'd make it smooth."

"But-"

"Sam told me that you were unhappy here, but I didn't think you would throw your entire life away to be with that asshole!"

His words make you hesitate for a moment in surprise.

Sam told him that I was thinking about leaving? Why did he tell Dean that?

"What life Dean?" You shout, throwing your arms out to gesture to the entire room. "I don't have anything here! I can't keep a relationship because I let people down. I don't know who my dad is because he walked out on my mom as soon as he found out she was pregnant. My mom died four years ago. I go to bed every night wishing for something else to happen but-" Frustrated tears were burning in your eyes now.

You didn't want to cry in front of him, but the urge to was overpowering everything else, the emotions you tried to keep down for so long beginning to curl and reform from the dark recessive parts of your mind where you buried them the night you met Dean Winchester.

"You deserve better than that asshole!" Dean shouts over you taking another step in your direction.

"Oh and what do you think I deserve Dean? Are you saying that I deserve someone like you?

Dean grits his teeth in frustration, anger blazing behind his eyes. "No I-" He finds his words. “I can’t believe you slept with him.”

"Oh good! That dinosaur. Falling back on something familiar, what a typical Dean Winchester move!" You gesture wildly with your hands sloshing water onto the floor. "I don’t understand why you’re so upset about it. We’re both consenting adults. He didn’t force me to do anything.”

You put down the cup to avoid throwing the glass at him.

“I just don’t see why you did it!” He towers over you, his body pulled taunt with his own anger and frustration.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t be sleeping around with people like him!”

Is he out of his MIND?!

"Why not?" You demand, fists curling into balls at your sides because you know that it's not safe to put them anywhere else. The anger that was flaring in your chest was starting to rival how you felt the last time that Dean and you had an argument and you broke his nose. And it had just finished healing a few days ago.

"Because he treats you like a piece of meat!" Dean shouts it so loud you can hear the frying pans hanging in the kitchen clink together

"Do you even hear yourself? I have seen you in bars picking up women after a hunt-"

You had. Countless times. The bravado Dean had when the three of you were still floating on the adrenaline that was pumping through from a hunt you'd seen first hand in the bars where Sam and you sat at a one of the high top tables watching him weave through the crowds with the sound of classic rock blaring over the crackly speakers. You watched Dean find another woman for the night, saw how he tried his best lines and got what he wanted while you sat in the motel room next to his trying to read beside a sleeping Sam and avoid the noises coming from next door.

"This is different!" He fumes.

"How is it different Dean? I want to know!"

Is it different because he's jealous? Or did I just imagine that?

You didn't think that you did.

Dean's face is bright red with the force of his anger and you're sure yours must be too given how it feels like it's on fire.

"He's always touching you or kissing you, putting his fucking hands on you!" Dean's jaw is clenched tight.  "I've never heard him give you one compliment other than how you look-"

You laugh in his face, but it comes out crueler than you meant it to. "In contrast to how many compliments you give me? Because I don't think there's been any of those."

"I compliment you." He huffs back.

"Oh really?" You scoff. "When?"

Dean is quiet for a minute. His eyes drag over you again, but this time the sweep of them bring a heat vibrating against your skin and your throat gets tight. "I like your shirt."

"HA!" You shout triumphant holding up a finger. "That's looks based."

"You didn't let me finish!" He scrambles. "I like your shirt because I like that band too and you have okay taste in music."

"Oh wooowwww. I have "okay taste in music" let me just swoon right here." You wave your hand back and forth. "Fuck you. I have awesome taste in music!"

"That's not what I-"

"And who is it that should I be sleeping around with? You?!" You roll your eyes trying to take a step away from him, but he moves to intercept you.

His fists are clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles are white. “I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth.”

His green eyes darken as he stares down at you, the fluorescent lights above the two of you catching the familiar hard lines of his face. Even though Dean looked like Ben, he still looked like himself in his own way. The familiar crows feet that graced under his eyes, the subtle tilt of his head, the rough stubble that pebbled over his chin and cheeks, the soft freckles, and the green eyes that you always found on you. There was a small scar just barely visible on the bridge of his nose and a few flecked on the edges of his face that made him more handsome.

You'd noticed how handsome he was in the past, but never like this. You'd never looked at Dean as other than someone who annoyed you. And yes he was annoying you now, but there was something else that you could feel threatening to explode, something you buried deep down and refused to unearth.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth Dean, I’m trying to figure out why this is such a big deal to you!”

Why is it a big deal?

“It just is!"

"Why? Because you're jealous?!" You hadn't meant to say it, but Dean's body goes taunt again.

"I am not jealous. I just don’t want you sleeping with him!”

“I think you are! And you’re not my dad Dean. You don’t get to decide who I sleep with!” You'd had enough of hearing him yell at you, of hearing him bitch about something that wasn't any of his business.

Who does he think he is? We're not together.

“That’s not what this is about-“

“Then what is it about Dean?! Why are you so hung up on something that is none of your business?!”

"It is my business!"

"How? How is it your business? Because you think that Ben is you somehow?"

"He is me!" Dean roars again and you wished he would stop saying it, because it was snagging on something in your chest.

A lie that you told yourself when you first started sleeping with Ben. You knew it. That you liked Ben because he looked like Dean and he appreciated you, that he didn't make you feel stupid, or ugly or not worth his time.

"No, he's not!" You shout back shaking off the feelings for what you hope is the final time. “Why do you care so much about this?!”

“Because I-“ Dean shouts, eyes narrowed at you. “Because I just do!”

“WHY?” You poke your finger into his chest. “I don’t care who you think you are. You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot sleep with!"

“I’m not trying to!”

“Yes you are! And I am so sick of your bullshit Winchester. This is none of your business. None of this is. It's my life! So why don't you just take your unneeded opinion and-"

The rest of your sentence evaporates into thin air as Dean grabs your shoulders so tight you're sure they're be bruises and pulls you in for a searing kiss.

Your body is frozen in shock, the warmth of his lips against yours holding a softness that you'd never known.

Everything about this kiss is different than the ones you'd share with Ben. You knew better than to compare them, but Ben kissed like he meant to devour you. He wasn't hesitant or afraid to take what he wanted when he kissed you, but Dean?

Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.

But just as he deepens the kiss you push him away and slap him across the face. The sharp sound rings through the kitchen and for a moment all you can do is stare at him shocked while the red mark on his face forms.

"What the hell was that for?" Dean shouts, but the emotion in his eyes wasn't anger, it was hurt.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" You shout back still out of breath. The ghost of his lips presses against yours and the taste of the whiskey remains on the tip of your tongue.

"I thought that-" He clears his throat, eyes widening.

"Thought what?"

"That you wanted me to-"

"To what? Kiss me?" The frustration was building again, because yes it had felt good to kiss him, but you hated that he was doing this now. That after years of him hating you, now when you had the possibility of being happy Dean was making this harder for you.

"Well-"

"No." You poke your finger into his chest, and this time you can't hold back the tears. They slip from your eyes, hot against your skin, as you feel every emotion that you'd kept bottled up beginning to surge up in a wave. "You don't get to do this Dean. Not now. Not after years of you treating me like shit."

Dean sighs and reaches for you, but you pull back from him. Hurt flashes in his eyes again and you can feel your own in the center of your chest. "I didn't-"

"Yes, you did. Damn it Dean, I'm not some shiny toy the two of you can fight over."

"That's not what I'm doing!"

"Then why now?" You ask in a half sob.

Dean pauses. "What?"

"Why after years of you hating me-"

"I never hated you." Dean's voice is more of a whisper than anything else.

"Oh bullshit. Yes you do!" You raise your hand to scrub at your cheeks, the tears falling quicker now.

It was the first time that you'd allowed yourself to cry in front of him, and you were fighting the urge to run back to your room. Ben was still there and you didn't know how the hell you were going to explain to you why you were crying.

"Will you just shut your damn mouth for five seconds and let me talk!?" He snaps running his hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to break your nose again if you do!"

"You need to because I'm trying to explain-"

"Explain what? Explain that you've completely lost your mind? Explain that all the years of you undermining me, making me feel like a burden, teasing me, yelling at me, making me feel like I was stupid, and driving me absolutely insane, has just been you trying to say that you love me?!"

You hadn't meant to shout that at him. Hadn't meant to say the word love, but now it was there hovering in the air between the two of you. Dean's eyes are locked with yours and you don't think he's taken a breath since you spoke.

Because love was a little word, only four letters, but why did it always seem so heavy? How could one word have the same weight as a loaded gun? How could something so small cause so much pain and so much hurt?

"Yes." Dean looks down at the ground, not able to meet your eyes. He looks ashamed and you can't find the words to fill the silence.

Because Dean Winchester was in love with you. The man who you'd always thought hated you, who you thought wished that you were never around, and who you thought believed you to be an annoyance.

Holy shit.

"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."

The words strike you right in the center of your chest and it shocks you so much that you stop crying. You'd seen different sides of Dean before. Seen him angry, happy, annoyed, frustrated, sad… but Dean Winchester had never looked broken around you, not like this, and certainly not over you. Whenever something went wrong Dean would isolate himself from you in his room with a bottle of something to numb the pain. It made you feel like someone was gutting out your insides with a pitchfork.

The silence grows between the two of you again, and his head is still bowed and looking down at the floor in shame.

You exhale softly, controlled by something that you're not sure, and reach out towards Dean's face.

He flinches back from you, eyes rimmed red, looking at you suspiciously as if he believes you're going to break his nose. In hindsight, you supposed it was a reasonable fear to have since you'd done it in the past.

"What are you doing?" He asks, voice cracking. Dean's green eyes have dimmed, looking more like an aged jade pot that's sat outside in the sun for too long.

"Please shut up." You sniffle, the end of your mouth twitching into a smile, before you place your hands on the sides of Dean's face and pull him down to you.

The kiss is quick, only a brush of your lips against his to give yourself a taste and when it's done you pull back letting your hands fall to your sides. You're not sure why you did that. Maybe it's because Dean admitted to loving you and he looks like a lost puppy, but-

Dean steps forward into the space, his hands reaching towards your face, and you flinch.

“What are you-“

“Please shut up.” Dean murmurs, echoing the words you'd whispered to him moments ago.

His hands are rough and warm against your cheeks. Worn from years of carrying a gun in his hand and hard work he never shied away from. But they’re nothing but gentle against your skin as he pulls your face to his.

You could be standing on the surface of the sun and not feel as hot as you do now. A volcano could erupt and bathe you in lava and you would just scoff at it like it was a normal day, because kissing Dean feels infinite. It's all consuming. The scrub of his five o'clock shadow against your cheeks, the slide of his hands down your arms that bring goosebumps in their wake, the smell of his shampoo that you always catch when you walk into the bathroom, the nudge of his nose into your cheek, and the soft supple welcome of his lips that draw the breath from your lungs all take you somewhere otherworldly.

You couldn't stop. It was a compulsion, like magnets, like it was something you wanted to do for so long but buried it deep down to avoid the inevitable. Fueled by the belief that Dean would push you away, because Dean Winchester hated you.

But he didn't, he never did.  And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.

Dean moans softly into your mouth and picks you up, his muscular arms fitting under your legs to place you on the counter, not pulling away at all and stepping into the space between them to fit himself closer to you. Your hands come to the back of his head, tangling in the short strands at the nape of his neck, shuffling your nails through his hair in a way that makes Dean shudder and pull you tighter to his chest.

Dean pulls back from you out of breath, but rests his forehead against yours, as if any further is too far from you and he doesn't wish to ever let you go.

"I don't hate you Dean." You whisper before he can say anything. "I can't. And I was only with Ben because I thought that this could never happen because you hated me-"

Dean's lips fall against yours taking your next words with it. "I don't hate you. I never did."

"Then why?"

He sighs. "I hated that you were a hunter, that this was your life, that you'd been doing this for so long with no one helping you."

"I'm okay."

"I know that, but I-" Dean hesitates. "I shouldn't have done what I did, but I didn't think that you'd want this-"

"This?"

"Me." Dean closes his eyes leaning further against you, almost as if he can’t hold himself up.

"Why?" Your grip on the back of his neck tightens.

"Because I'm-" He tries to find the word. "I'm not perfect. I'm a jealous asshole. I've done terrible things, made you cry.” He sighs. “You deserve better."

You kiss him softly. "There is no one better. I'm not looking for perfect, I'm looking for human. There's nothing wrong with making a mistake and being imperfect. The imperfections are what make you, you." Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Dean, you're not a bad person. You are the most selfless man I have ever met. And maybe you've messed up a few times, but I have too. Do you think I'm a bad person for the things I've done?"

There was a list of them that seemed to grow longer each day and it was difficult not to dwell on the things of the past. But standing here with Dean, watching the weight settle on his shoulders, while he told you that he didn't think he was enough for you made you throw it all away.

"No.”

“Do you think that I’m not deserving of love?”

“No. But-"

 You shush him. "Then don’t talk that way about the man I love."

Dean's eyes widen, but you watch the end of his lips twitch into a smile. "You love me?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "I think I always have, but I was afraid because you were-"

His mouth falls over yours so fast you don’t have time to finish the thought. "I love you too."

Your heart flutters in your chest with his words.

"Kinda hard not to." His thumbs stroke along your hip bone over the soft t-shirt sending electricity dancing along your spine.

You smirk. "You're right. I am pretty great."

"I think the word you're looking for is high maintenance." Dean smirks back at you.

"Aww… That means I'm out of your league and you're lucky to have me in your life." You giggle with a smile.

"I am." He murmurs, nudging his nose forward into yours moving in for another kiss.

Someone clears their throat from the other side of the room drawing your eye. Ben is leaning against the doorway dressed in his suit, watching where you're wrapped up in Dean's arms.

Any warm feelings you were having standing there with Dean immediately evaporate and the guilt comes roaring back. You'd forgotten that Ben was still here and you felt bad for him. You didn't want him to think that you used him.

"Ben I-" You begin to stutter, but he only shakes his head at you.

"You don't gotta explain anything doll, I know what this was." Ben smirks, but you see something flicker in his gaze for just a second before its gone.  "And I'm man enough to admit when I'm beat. Even if I don't like it."

"But-" You try to say again.

Oh this is so awkward.

"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."

Cas walks into the room with Sam at his heels, who looks much too smug when he spies where Dean has you on the counter. You push Dean back and stand up, while Dean shoots daggers with his gaze leveled at Sam.

Sam isn't phased, but chooses not to say anything.

Ben rolls himself off the doorway and walks confidently to where Dean and you are standing, extending his hand towards Dean. "You take care of her." Ben's eyes flick to you for a second before focusing more on Dean. "She's special."

The hand of guilt on your throat tightens just a little more, because somewhere you wondered if Ben really was as aloof as he seemed or if he had started to care about you a little more than he let on.

"I will." Dean's smile is forced, and you see him squeeze Ben's hand a little tighter as he does.  It only makes Ben smirk wider.

Cas begins to write the symbol on the floor taking care with each intricate detail to open the portal, but you stop him at the last minute.

"Wait." You take a step forward and hug Ben tightly. "Thank you."

"You're thanking me for fucking you?" Ben snorts throwing a smug look in Dean's direction that makes Dean bristle. "Guess I am a gift."

"Shut up." Your cheeks blaze bright red and you hear Dean growl something under his breath. "No, just thank you. For being here."

Ben hesitates. He raises his hand to your cheek, fingers tracing along your skin before he brushes away some of your hair. It was a gentle gesture from him, one that you weren't accustomed to. The emotion in his eyes shifts to something else, but he hides it with a smirk. "You're welcome sweetheart."

"Maybe you'll meet the me from your reality." You say, because you're not sure what else you can say, not when Ben is looking at you like that.

The entire situation was again reaching soap opera proportions and there was only so much you could take before you drove your car off a cliff.

The truth was, you did like Ben. You thought he was attractive, bold, strong, but there was always something a little gentle that lurked under the surface he never let anyone else see.

But you loved Dean. He understood what it was like to be a hunter, understood what it was like to not be able to live up to someone's expectations, and he loved you. You couldn't see a life with Ben, but you could see one with Dean. Ben didn't belong in your world and you didn't belong in his.

Ben's smirk twitches. "Maybe. But she won't be the same as you doll."

Dean clears his throat and steps forward to pull you back into his chest possessively. "I think your ride's leaving." You don't have to look up into his face to know he's frowning.

Ben chuckles. "You know what kid? You're alright." His eyes flick back to yours. "You give me a call if you get bored with him."

"She won't." Dean snaps. “And don’t call me kid.”

Ben only laughs at him and steps closer to Cas as he begins to finish the ritual and when the portal finally opens, Ben goes through without looking back.

And you don’t feel guilty anymore, because you knew that Ben understood.

"Finally." Dean breathes a sigh of relief that makes you snort, dropping his head to your shoulder. It was so casual that you had to remind yourself that Dean loved you and you loved him.

Sam clears his throat. "Hey Cas will you help me with something in the library-"

"What do you have to do in the library?" Cas frowns at him confused.

"Just something come on-"

"But why-"

"CAS!" Sam shouts casting an obvious look in the direction of where Dean and you are standing.

Cas looks at the two of you. "Are they coming with us to the library?"

Sam huffs out a frustrated breath and grabs Cas by the back of his trench coat to drag him out of the kitchen so Dean and you can have a few moments alone.

You snort at the confused look on Cas's face when Sam drags him out, before you turn your body in his arms to look up into Dean's handsome face. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is to be jealous of yourself?"

"I thought he wasn't me?" Dean smirks, his eyebrow arching with his tease. His fingers are resting resolutely on your hips, thumbs softly trailing in circles.

"He is a little bit." You admit defeated. "But don't look so smug Winchester."

"I think I'm allowed to be a little bit." His smirk grows and he leans his face down to yours. Instead of feeling angry at the appearance of his smirk it only makes you smile.

Standing here in the aftermath made you see Dean in a different light, made your heart buckle and jump in your chest the longer you stood there in the kitchen basking in the warmth that began to bloom in your chest.

"Maybe…" You gently touch the front of his buffalo print flannel, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingertips. It looked good on him, very little looked bad on Dean.

"Do you regret staying with me?" He mutters.

"What?" You glance back up to see his face and notice that he's not smiling, he's frowning at you, and his eyes aren't as bright.

Dean clears his throat. "Well you seemed like you were really going to miss him and-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, putting you everything you have into the kiss, hoping that Dean can feel how you have no regrets staying with him, that all you want is him.

"Dean Winchester." You breathe, moving your hands to cup his cheeks so he can't look away from you. "I do not regret staying with you, because I love you." You pull him as close to you as you can, his warm hands splayed over your back. "This is where I belong." You kiss him on the tip of his nose. "And this is where you belong. With me."

Dean's eyes warm the longer you hold his gaze. "I'm starting to believe you."

"Anything that I can do to convince you?"

"I can think of a few things…"

Ben/Soldier Boy POV

"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.

It had been two days since he'd left your reality, and he was trying his best to shove away the disappointment at the fact that you hadn't decided to come back with him. It wasn't that Ben wanted more than what the two of you had, it was that he liked having someone to talk to or try to talk to, and you were a good listener.

He didn’t like opening up to people, but there was something about you. He could trust you and Ben hadn't found anyone he could trust since he got back from Russia.

Ben also wasn't about to admit that he was lonely, he had plenty of women who were eager to warm his bed, but there was something about you that always made him feel different. He wasn't sure what that was exactly.

He'd also be lying if he said that he had wanted to explore it a little more if you'd come with him to his reality. The thought of you staying with him for an extended period of time in his apartment hadn't been unwelcome. Ben had never allowed other women to stay more than a day, but you… Ben would have let you stay as long as you wanted to.

Fuck.

He knew that he wasn't in love with you, but Ben knew he liked having you around. He liked being friends with you and he liked fucking you.

And yes he was disappointed that you had chosen Dean instead of him, but at the same time Ben didn't blame you. You had a history with Dean and when you'd been forced into Ben's reality, you'd talked to him a lot about Dean. Ben knew that you liked Dean more than you cared to admit.

But there was still an unwelcome feeling in the pit of his stomach that Ben wasn't accustomed to.

Ben huffed out a breath to push away the thoughts, while looking at what was left of the keyboard on his desk. The keys were scattered across the wooden top like bits of confetti, broken easily underneath his large fingertips when he'd tried to write an email

When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had taken a job working for the Department of Supe Affairs, but he was "grounded" due to the "anger issues" that he swore he didn't have, and because he didn't listen to Butcher whenever he gave him an order.

I don't need to follow orders. I'm Soldier Boy! I should be giving the orders!

Basically it meant that he was stuck on a desk indefinitely until Annie January, the new department head, released him. She'd also ordered that Ben go to company mandated therapy sessions once a week. He'd refused to go, but after Annie threatened him with termination of his contract, which meant that Ben would have gone back to being someone who "looked like someone who used to be famous," he'd gone to therapy.

And he refuses to admit this to anyone… but he liked it. Someone who was paid to listen to him bitch for a whole hour about whatever pissed him off and actually kept their trap shut was just what he needed.

Sometimes it reminded him of when he would talk to you, but there were still things that he refused to tell anyone and some of those things he had told you.

Ben ran his hand through his hair frustrated at his predicament. He would have liked to go into the field and take out some of his frustration on another supe, but Annie refused to give.

Ben didn't like listening to women, but even he had to admit Annie had a set of brass balls and he respected her for it. She didn’t take shit from anyone and especially didn't listen to Ben's bitching over why he should be in the field instead of being chained to a desk.

"Oi you all right mate?" Butcher calls and Ben can hear the shit eating grin without looking up from his computer screen.

The error message was still displayed in bright red letters, mocking him.

Ben knows that Butcher doesn't give a shit, and is probably about to start teasing him about his inability to adapt to modern day technology.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"Don't you have something better to do? Like fucking that little bitch that Annie is ploughing?" Ben spits back, clicking on the mouse but all it does is bring up another error message in another language.

"Oh mon ami, that doesn't look good." Frenchie walks by to stare at the computer screen that has now gone slightly fuzzy.

"I don’t think that's going to fix it mate." Butcher laughs. " But I called IT."

"I don’t need any of those four-eyed fucks helping me!" Ben snaps turning to narrow his eyes at Butcher.

He's holding a white cup of tea, wearing his usual long trench coat and Hawaiian shirt, with the shit eating grin that Ben knew Butcher was going to have when he looked up.

The last thing Ben needed was some nerd telling him everything that he did wrong. He was already on a first name basis with the director of the IT department, who was a little weasel of a man and who no longer picked up the phone when Ben called to yell at him.

"I think you're gonna want to listen to this particular four eyed fuck. She's new." Butcher gloats. "But don’t say I never did anything for you Soldier Boy."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ben shouts at Butcher's back, but he's already gone.

Ben turns back to the error message that has begun to flash an even brighter red and now has a countdown.

"Fuck, fuck fuck-" Ben growled and to remedy the situation he puts his fist through the computer screen. It makes a high pitched electrical popping sound, showering his desk in sparks, while the overhead lights flicker, before the screen goes completely black.

Ben was not stupid, but he was a little slow when it came to modern day technology. He was doing better than he had initially, but it was taking him a longer time to understand using his desktop computer at work than his cell phone.

"Hi, I'm from IT. Mr. Butcher called and said that you might need a little help." The voice was small and tentative, coming from somewhere on Ben's left.

"I don't need any help. Especially not from a fucking four-" Ben started to growl, but then he looked up and the words died in his throat.

Because the person standing next to his desk was you.

This version of you looked different. Ben was used to seeing someone in old band t-shirts, worn blue jeans, and flannel shirts, someone who carried themselves confidently and had a hardness surrounding their outer exterior that simply said "don't fuck with me."

But this version of you was softer and a little gentle. Your hair was longer and pushed back from your face by a simple black headband, you were wearing dark framed glasses, an oversized cardigan sweater that covered a simple pair of blue jeans, a striped blouse, and a pair of dark blue converse. The converse made Ben smile. He hadn't seen anyone wearing Chuck Taylors in a little while and it was a welcome sight, something from the past that he actually recognized.

The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield.

He thought it was cute.

As much as Ben liked the version of you he knew who didn't shy away from anything, Ben found himself smiling at this one. You were definitely more soft spoken and a little less confident, but Ben could see a sweetness and sincerity in your eyes that he hadn't come across since he came back to the US.

It was the thing that always made him trust the other version of you, the part of him that made him want to tell the other version of you things that he hadn't told other people.

"I'm sorry." You say, even though you have nothing to be sorry about. "I-"

"No. I'm sorry." Ben clears his throat awkwardly and for the first time in a long time he feels nervous. He wasn't sure why that was, not to mention he never apologized to anyone, ever, but he didn't want to scare you away.

"It's okay." You give him a soft smile. "Computers can be frustrating, but sometimes it’s better not to put your fist through the screen."

Ben chuckles. "Probably not my best work."

You shake your head, a wider smile on your face, the motion of it sending the smell of your perfume over him, something floral and a little old fashioned. You look at the remnants of the computer and bite the inside of your cheek deep in thought.

Ben found himself tracing the furrow of your brows and the scrunch of your nose. You were beautiful in every reality to him.

"Well, Mr. Soldier Boy I don't think-"

"Please call me Ben." He interrupts.

Ben wondered if you were this shy all the time and if you'd be just as shy if he took you to bed. He wanted to find out.

Ben had slept with many women in his lifetime and he was usually drawn to women who were more confident and outgoing, sure of themselves, but there was something about your shy attitude that Ben found attractive.

"Ben." You say it in the soft voice of yours, cheeks flushed a little bit as if you're embarrassed to say it. "I don't think that there's anything I can do for this." Your hand waves over the computer. "But I can go talk to my boss and tell him you need another one."

"I'll go with you." Ben stood up.

He didn’t want to let you out of his sight, not when a part of him worried that you weren’t really there or you would evaporate into nothing before his very eyes.

"Oh, it's okay. You don't have to-" You stammer, shaking your head, and not quite looking at him as if making eye contact was a little harder for you.

"I want to." Ben smiles at you. He hears your heart beat quicken and can hear the small intake of breath you have when he smiles. "He's an asshole and I don't want him to chew you out for something I did." Ben explains.

It was partly true. The guy was an asshole. Not to mention, Butcher had said it was your first day and Ben wasn’t going to stand by and have the head of the IT department screaming at you when you had done nothing wrong.

"Oh." You clear your throat, cheeks blushing that cute pink color that makes Ben smile wider. "Well if you'll just follow me."

He hadn’t met someone like you in a long time. And even though he liked the other version of you, Ben was starting to like this one more.

"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.

And the longer he stands there watching you blush, Ben begins to feel an odd feeling flicker in the pit of his stomach racing up into his chest that he’d never felt before and for the first time in a long time Ben was curious to see where it could lead.

A/N: Alright we made it to the end and everyone got a happy ending! Thank you again everyone for all the love and support while I was writing this mini-series 💗

Reveal of the Poll:

🥫: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in a grocery store.

💻: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in the IT department.

Personally I liked the IT more, and the problem is now I really like the shy reader with Ben. They are so cute and now I'm hyperfixated on Ben with a shy reader so we'll see where that goes 🤣

Thank you so much for reading! As always likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, but are not required. I love hearing what y'all think!

Taglist For It's Not A Big Deal:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @livya99 @zepskies

@winchesterwild78 @ladykitana90 @spnfamily-j2 @whyyouegg

@suckitands33 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @s0uz4s @schinug @just-levyy

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @minas-fantasies @ladysparkles78

@mochminnie @peachhiz

@impala67stellawinchester @nancymcl @lunaleah @lightdancingwords @kamisobsessed

@justwhisperingfantasies @lunaleah @kamisobsessed @kmc1989 @djudy99

@chriszgirl92

@toxicfataldestiny @im-bili @anniebannanie0315 @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @schinug

@shara-ne @gaida-511 @xxmusic13luverxx @bakugotypecrashout @n-o-p-e-never

@thoughtfullyfurryangel @youroldfashioned

@marvelgeeka @myceliumsunshine @hobby27

@funkenniffler

[laseracronym]

They Made You Cry (MHA/Fem!Reader)

(Laser: I'm sad today, so I curse you with angst.)

Summary: MHA characters reacting to making their girlfriend cry. (Angst, arguments, and some unhealthy relationship dynamics.)

Characters: Bakugou, Dabi, Aizawa, Shigaraki, Midoriya

MHA-MHA-MHA

Bakugou

Katsuki's heart sinks when he sees the unmistakable wetness that mists over your eyes. What's worse, what really makes him feel like the worst kind of bastard, is the way you shy away from his gaze with a sense of bitter defeat. Like he's getting what he wanted. Like his victory, his intention, was pushing you to tears.

As if he could ever consider this a victory.

"H-Hey..." he reaches out to you, awkward and unsure. He's so bad at dealing with tears, especially yours. It's so much easier to take on whatever piece of shit that's made you cry, but in this case, it's him. He's the piece of shit.

You sniffle, hurriedly brushing past him, equal parts angry and hurt.

"Whatever, Katsuki."

Dabi

The thing about you is that you're so damn unpredictable. Sweet one second, drawing blood the next.

Dabi kind of loves it. It keeps things from becoming boring, getting stale. And you're so hot when your eyes are ablaze with whatever emotion is overcoming you.

Just like right now, in the middle of some pointless, bullshit argument, when something he says makes you snap. You tackle him to the ground, your hands fisting into his jacket as you yell in his face. All he can do is grin up at you dangerously, just as angry, but equally as enticed by just how vibrant you look in this moment.

Then something even sweeter happens.

Big, fat tears begin to drip from your wild eyes, and Dabi sucks in a breath. You sob, frustrated and overwhelmed, and his cold, little heart warms at the sight.

"Oh, pretty girl..."

His arms wrap around you as you cry into his chest, cursing his name all the while. He strokes your hair, twisted affection squirming in his chest like a nest of spiders.

Always so unpredictable and entertaining.

Aizawa

"(Name), I-" Shouta falters, all the anger and frustration from your argument washed away by cold, all-consuming guilt at the sight of the tears slipping down your face.

You hurriedly wipe them away, stepping back, away from him, and the guilt deepens.

He knows you hate crying in front of him, even when it isn't his fault. It makes you feel weak, and he knows you worry he'll think less of you, that he'll find your more emotional way of being "irrational."

You turn, hiding your face as you try to walk away, but he stops you, gently catching you by the arm.

"Wait," he pleads, his voice gentle, "I'm sorry." Because no argument is worth making you cry.

"I don't want you to see me like this," you mutter, your head down. But at least you're not pulling away from him. He takes that as a good sign.

"Don't hide from me," he urges. He takes you by the chin and tilts your head up so he can look at you properly. He brushes your tears away, regretful that they're there in the first place. "Let's talk about this, okay?"

He's always so stubborn, set in his ways. But he'll try to meet you in the middle, to understand your perspective. You're worth it.

Shigaraki

Tomura feels no guilt at the sight of your tears, only vindictive satisfaction. Good. He'd been aiming to hurt you when he said those words to you. He really can't stand the way you make him feel sometimes, so he's happy to return the favor.

"You're seriously crying?" he taunts with a cruel smirk, poking at your cheek with a mocking finger.

You smack his hand away, "fuck you, Tomura, you fucking prick," you hiss, trying not to cry even more in front of him. You turn and storm away from him before things get even worse.

"You're so pathetic!" he calls after you, making sure you can hear him before you slam the door behind you.

He huffs, standing there and scratching at his neck. You're so damn overdramatic, a pain in his ass. You deserve to cry a little for the shit you put him through.

The image of your tear-filled face flashes through his mind. He ignores the way it makes his stomach twist with discomfort.

Midoriya

Izuku feels his own eyes fill with tears, watching you hug yourself and cry in front of him.

"(N-Name)... please don't cry..." he begs, his hands brushing up and own your arms, trying to console you.

"I thought I was never going to see you again," you cry, your words making his heart ache. You scrub a shaking hand over your eyes, "I was so s-scared for you!"

"I'm sorry, (Name)," he pulls you into a hug, his own tears running free. He really scared you this time. It was a close call. "It's okay, I'm okay. I'm here."

He shushes you gently, guilt spreading through his chest at the distress he's caused you. His job is always going to cause you to worry, the only thing he can do is try his best to come home to you at the end of the day.

(Requests)

[darlingdaisyfarm]

This honestly might be a downer or stupid, but I just got fired and I am having a really hard time. I just want to bury my head in Stan's chest and sob. I was wondering if you could write how the Stan and Ford might react to the reader being suddenly fired and maybe how they'd comfort them? I'm also really excited for the next chapter of your fic!

✧˚⋆ Stan & Ford supporting you when you need it most ⋆｡♡˚

oh sweetheart, im so sorry ur going through this, holy shit. just the moment i received this ask, i knew i had to write smth when ill get free time today, because i feel so sorry for you. i hope these two old men gave u even a tiny bit of comfort, please be kind to urself right now, youre gonna get through this, i promise. sending u all my love !! stay strong please 🫂🫂

STANLEY

the thing about Stan is that he gets it. he gets the feeling of being chewed up and spat out, of having doors slam in your face, of working your ass off and still being told you’re not enough. he gets the quiet humiliation, the bitterness in the back of your throat, the way your hands shake when you try to act like it doesn’t matterm

you don’t even remember how you got here. your feet must’ve carried you through the streets, past strangers whose lives weren’t just ruined, past cars honking, past buildings that still stood while the whole world inside you had collapsed.

“hey, hey. what the hell, sweetheart, breathe, alright? you’re okay, you’re right here.” his rough but worried voice reaches you when you slam mystery shack's door open, standing in the doorway with shaking hands, red-eyed.

“i got fired, Stan. j-just gone, outta nowhere. i don’t know what to do, Stan, im so lost.” your throat burns

before you can say anything else, he's opening his arms. “c'mere.” and you don't even hesitate as you crash into him like a wave, burying your face in his chest. and he holds you, one big arm wrapping around your back, the other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head

“there we go. you don’t gotta keep it all in, sweetheart.” the words hit you harder than you expect. you're so used to holding it together, to swallowing everything down, to being strong. and Stan, who’s built himself up from nothing, who’s taken every punch life threw at him and still kept standing, he’s telling you it’s okay to break.

so you do. you bury your face in his chest and cry until you’re dizzy, until your breath stutters and shakes, until all the anger and hurt and fear bleed out of you. Stanley doesn’t rush you or tell you to stop. “let it out, sweetie, s’gonna be okay.” he holds you close tightly because he’s spent his whole life holding people who needed it more than he did.

“it’s not fair,” you gasp, clutching on his clothes.

“no, it ain’t.”

“i worked so hard.”

“i know.”

“i feel like—like nothing i do is enough—”

Stan tightens his hold, pressing his chin to the top of your head. “hey. you listen to me.” his voice turns serious. “some suit in an office makin’ a crap decision got nothing to do with who you are. they're dumb. absolute morons for lettin’ you go. betcha the whole place is gonna fall apart without you because you were the best thing about that shithole. if they couldn’t see that, then screw ‘em. they lost you. not the other way around.”

you shake your head, clenching your fists. “but—“

“no buts,” he growls and then, softer: “you're not trash just ‘cause some idiots don’t know how to treat their workers. you're not worthless just ‘cause some suits decided you were expendable. you are not nothing.”

Stan pulls back to tip your chin up, making sure you’re listening. his thumb wipes a tear off your cheek. “i mean, you still got me, sweetheart. ain’t no job in the world that could change that.” he smiles genuinely at you.

you close your eyes, giving him a tiny sad smile back. you let yourself breathe, let yourself believe it, hiding your face in his chest again. Stan's grip stays strong and unshaking, shielding you from the whole world as you cry until you’re too tired, so all what you do is sob into his chest. you’re just leaning into him, exhausted, letting him hold you up.

Stan sighs, resting his cheek against your hair. “ya ever heard the story of the biggest screw-up in New Jersey?”

you sniffle. “what?”

”lemme tell ya, kid grows up in a house that don’t want him. gets kicked out. loses every job he ever had. ends up in a broken-down shack in the middle of nowhere. total loser.”

you shift against him. “Stan—“

“but he keeps goin’. and somehow, somehow, that dumbass loser ends up with people who love him. ends up holdin’ someone who needs it. ends up tellin’ the best damn person he’s ever met that they’re gonna be okay.”

he lets you lean into him again, lets you breathe him in, lets you stay as long as you need. tells you stories about all the bosses he’s scammed just to make you laugh.

at some point, when the tears have slowed and the weight in your chest isn’t crushing anymore, Stan ruffles your hair and leans back, arms crossed.

“y’know, i could use an extra set of hands around the shack.“

you blink up at him, sniffing. “what? you. . .you want me to work here?”

“yeah, id rather have someone i actually like workin’ here instead of hiring some random kid who’s just gonna rob me blind.” his usual gruff tone is back, but his gaze is what speaks louder, soft and certain, making it obvious that you belong here.

you open your mouth, but he cuts in, pointing a finger at you. “and before ya say some crap about not bein’ good enough or whatever, shut up. i’m the boss, i decide who’s good enough, and i say it’s you.”

you let out a shaky laugh, wiping your nose. “wow, such a heartfelt offer.”

he smirks. “hey, that’s as heartfelt as it gets, sweetheart. but seriously. think about it, okay? i got a spot for ya.” Stanley is not just offering a job for you, he’s offering a place, a place where you’re wanted, where you’re needed, where you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone.

you take a deep breath, feeling lighter for the first time all day. “yeah. yeah, i’ll think about it.”

“good,” Stan smiles and ruffles your hair again. “now, wanna eat somethin’? watch a dumb movie? beat me at cards? or you want me to egg their car?” about the last thing, he's joking, probably. but if you say yes, you know he’ll do it.

STANFORD

Ford finds you sitting at the kitchen table, arms crossed on the surface, face buried in them. you haven’t moved and spoken in a while, just sat there, motionless, like a puppet with the strings cut.

he clears his throat, stepping closer. “i, ah. noticed you didn’t come in for dinner.”

you don’t respond. his brows knit together, concern creasing his forehead. he takes the seat across from you, folding his hands on the table. “would you like to talk about it?”

for a moment, nothing. then, muffled: “i got fired.” slips from your mouth. so that's what happened. Ford doesn’t say oh. doesn’t say im sorry. doesn’t say what happened? he understands you because Ford Pines knows what it is to be discarded. he knows what it is to dedicate yourself to something, only to be told you are wrong. to be shoved out, unmoored, drifting in the space between who you thought you were and who they’ve decided you are now.

he knows what it is to look down at his hands and wonder if they are still meant to build something. after being betrayed.

he frowns thoughtfully. “that was. . . rather sudden, wasn’t it?”

you nod weakly. Ford exhales through his nose, gaze sharpening, analyzing. you. your sadness. the whole situation.

“it must feel unfair.“ he doesn’t just acknowledge the loss, but the injustice of it. and it makes your throat close up.

you lift your head slightly, looking at his face. “it- it is. i tried so hard. i put so much effort into that stupid job, and now it’s just—just gone.”

Ford hums. “tell me something.” he leans forward, putting elbows on the table. “do you think your value was in the work you did?”

you blink at him, but he doesn't even let you answer. “because if that were the case, then the moment you lost that job, you would have lost all worth as a person. but that’s not true, is it?” his voice is always so calm, full of absolute certainty.

you shake your head slowly, unsurely and Ford nods, satisfied. then, after a brief pause, he stands. “wait here” you don’t have the energy to question him. you just sit, staring blankly at the tabletop, until he returns a moment later with a notebook and pen.

he places them in front of you.

you glance up, confused. “what’s this for?”

Ford takes his seat again, tapping a finger against the cover. “do me a favor, darling. write down five things about yourself that have nothing to do with your job.”

your face looks tired and skeptical. you stare at the paper. “Ford, i—“

“anything,” he says softly, smiling at you. “everything. what you love. what you’re good at. what excites you, what makes you feel something. what matters to you.”

your fingers tighten around the pen. at first, you don’t know where to start. but Ford doesn’t rush you, just patiently sits beside you.

so you write. you write about the things that make you you. and at first, it feels stupid and awkward. it starts small, your favorite books, your favorite songs, the way you love thunderstorms, the way you always make extra coffee just in case someone else wants some.

but then it gets bigger. the things you’ve created. the things you’ve learned. the times you were kind when no one was looking. the people who love you, who see you. the way you keep going, even when it’s hard

Ford watches as you write, nodding approvingly at each entry.

“now tell me: did losing your job take any of that away?”

you stare at the words. the little pieces of yourself you hadn’t even thought about in the wake of everything. softly, you shake your head

Ford’s expression gentles. “then you’re still you. and you’re still worth just as much as you were yesterday. because no job, no institution, no single event defines you.” you swallow hard. Fords voice drops lower. “you are more than what you do, more than what you produce, more than what some company decides you’re worth. you are your thoughts. your curiosity. your kindness.” he gestures to the list. “you are all of this and nothing can take that from you.”

your breath wobbles. Ford’s gaze softens further. “come here, sweetheart.“ you hesitate but only for a second, then stand and he meets you halfway, arms wrapping around you. and Ford isn’t Stanley, isn’t someone used to giving big, open, thoughtless affection. but what he lacks in ease, he makes up for in intent.

because he means this. his big hand moves up and down your back slowly. “you’re not alone in this,” he murmurs into your hair. “we’ll figure something out. and until then. . . you are still extraordinary.“ his voice is so certain, and suddenly you don’t feel quite as lost.

“th-thank you” you bury your face in his sweater, hands gripping his sleeves

“and don’t let anyone ever tell you you aren’t smart or brave or worthy enough.”

you stay there a while. until Ford gives your shoulder one last squeeze and pulls back, adjusting his glasses. “now. i assume you haven’t eaten?”

you smile at him, shaking your head. “no, wasn't in the mood.“

“come, sweetheart, let’s fix that.”

[moonyswolfie]

Study Session

A/N: So I just finished a torturously long exam session and this fic is a result of all the stress and mental breakdowns I've accumulated like Pokemons during this time. I actually wrote this piece between two of my biggest and most difficult exams, hence the N.E.W.T.s coming in to play. I hope you enjoy and if you relate, I'm so sorry! Remember that you are strong and no amount of academic stress can bring you down!

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Potter!reader

Masterlist

The table you were sat at in the Library was so crowded with textbooks and parchments that you could not see the wood any longer. Notes and cheat sheets, explanatory scrolls of parchments, quills and bottles of ink covered the entire surface. Hell, Lily even brought a dictionary. Merlin knew what use would a muggle dictionary have when it came to magical terms, but you learned a long time ago to never question her genius.

It was N.E.W.T.s season and to say that all 5 of you were stressed would be an understatement. James thought that once you passed your O.W.L.s, the N.E.W.T.s would not be as scary as everyone made them out to be. It was an exam session, a very long and tiresome and perhaps crucial exam session, but it wasn't Voldemort, right?

Wrong. The stress was growing by the hour and despite having two more weeks at your disposal to revise and memorise all you needed to, it didn't feel like enough.

But then again, was it ever enough? 

You've been preparing for the N.E.W.T.s since the beginning of the school year, forcing yourself to attend every class and take a ginormous amount of notes that you knew would probably end up useless or lost somewhere at the bottom of your book bag. Still, you couldn't bring yourself to pause. Failure was not an option.

So far you tackled Charms, Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts, all of them easy and rather entertaining subjects, if you were to say so yourself. Right now however, you were stuck on the same Potions chapter for the past four hours and were just about ready to scream, cry, Avada Kedavra yourself or better yet, all of the above.

"Hey, Sirius?" 

He hums and looks up, noticing your twitching eye and the exasperation rolling off you in waves. 

"Y/N, are you okay?" 

The concern was palpable and it caught the attention of your boyfriend in an instant, yet Remus knew better than to pester you with questions right now. He was adamant about rest and health being your first priority, but considering his own overcrowded study schedule, he would be a hypocrite to point it out at the moment. He did, however, push a goblet of water in your direction, which you eagerly accepted and gulped down in seconds. You weren't exactly allowed food or beverages in the Library, but what Pince didn't know would not hurt her.

You thanked Remus and handed the goblet back, before turning to Sirius and taking a deep breath to regain your composure. 

"I have been rereading this chapter for the majority of our time here and I still don't understand the origins or the side effects of Amortentia when used for a longer period of time. No one really bothered to detail on them in any of our textbooks and I am not sure anyone ever subjected themselves to testing it out and then writing a memoir about it. However, Slughorn oh so graciously announced us that it might be included in the advanced exam topics. Do you happen to have anything on this? I know he mentioned some in class, but I didn't catch all of them."

"I think I do..."

He shuffles some parchments and knocks down some books, thus earning himself a stern look from Madame Pince, but ultimately finds the notes and hands them over.

"There you go, love."

You smile and thank him, humming while you scan the information. For such a chaotic human being, he had the neatest handwriting you've ever seen.

It doesn't take long for you to find the part about side effects, however there was nothing you didn't already write down yourself. Thankfully though, Sirius was the type of person to absently write down everything he heard so you found other helpful pieces of information. This was why you asked him for the notes in the first place, instead of Remus or James. Remus, much like yourself, only wrote the parts he was less certain of, whereas James didn't write anything at all. And Lily, Merlin bless her, she was a growing disaster when it came to writing information down. There was, contrary to her claims, no method to her madness.

You rolled up the parchment once you were done writing, yet kept it close, just in case you needed it again later. Sirius was studying for Transfiguration, so he wouldn't miss the notes anytime soon. Lily turned to you, ready to ask a question regarding a Charms lesson she was too sick to attend, but stopped and frowned, browsing the page spread out on the table in front of you.

"Y/N, why are your notes bilingual?" 

You turned and followed her gaze to the margins, specifically to the terminology you borrowed from Sirius...

You unscrolled his notes again and placed them next to yours, looking from one to the other with a bemused smile. Next to the name of the potion, you drew a little arrow and wrote amour et obsession, which would have been inconspicuous, had you not added une potion délicate and l'amour impossible devient possible.

There were a few more next to the ingredients list and some corrections made regarding the mode of preparation. As you scanned the two sets of notes, you noticed that his were entirely in French, while you half translated, half copied your added bits.

You didn't know what was funnier, that you mindlessly wrote the information in Frenchglish, or that you didn't notice it was in another language to begin with. 

English was your mother tongue, yet like every other pureblooded offspring, you were forced to attend a variety of language lessons to determine which ones you would be more skilled in. Romantic languages proved to be your forte, so you stuck with French, Italian and Latin. It wasn't easy in the beginning, seeing as they are all mere variations of the latter, therefore making them ridiculously easy to mix up and combine in the oddest of sentences, but you persevered and were now fluent in all four. 

Regardless, slip ups like the one you were tiredly staring at now were not unheard of. You were certain it was a testament to how tired you truly were. Perhaps Remus was right, you should rest more.

But then again, this was not a simple exam session. It was the one that would determine your entire future. You could sleep when you're dead.

"You write your notes in French?"

Sirius' head shot up immediatey, confusion written all over his face.

"Yes?"

By now everyone's attention was on your exchange, which deepened his frown. James looked like he missed everything until that very moment, Remus was watching his best friend with a raised brow and Lily was silently shaking her head, smiling. She didn't know how she ended up with the lot of you, but she knew she loved you dearly.

"French is my first language" Sirius added, as if that was all the explanation you needed.

Sadly, it did nothing to clear up the confusion. When neither of you said anything, he added "doesn't everyone take notes in their first language?"

Despite Remus being the only other person in your group who wasn't a native English speaker, therefore making him the best candidate to answer his friend, you all shook your heads, your faces betraying different levels of amusement and fondness. It was a rather endearing situation.

"I don't take notes in Welsh, if that's what you're asking. I don't think I can even translate half the things correctly. Besides, the spells are in Latin, so imagine how that would look on a piece of parchment."

You chuckled at the mental image of magical notes looking more like pages taken from that muggle author's book, Tolkien. Lily followed and you both received a glare and a pointed "shhh" from Madame Pince. Honestly, it was a wonder she wasn't kicking you out at this point.

"Wait a second" James turned towards his best friend "ALL of your notes are in French?"

Sirius nods. Poor baby looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"But don't you..." you frown, unsure how to formulate your question "I see you writing constantly. If the Professor speaks, you write. How..." you groan, burying your face in your hands and shaking your head "my brain hurts. You look as if you write down everything that is said in class, so I assumed that you do?”

You peek an eye up only to be met with Sirius chuckling silently.

“I do write mostly everything that is said in class, but first I summarize it and I guess it’s easier to summarize it in French. I find it easier if I reformulate the information because it shows I understood the concept, but to avoid learning something mechanically and forgetting it when I flip the page, I use my own words. The only issue is that sometimes I forget the word I need in English or there isn’t even a word in English for said thing to begin with. Thus French. And no one really asked me for my notes before you so I didn’t see any reason to put any effort in translating them. And you didn’t seem to have a problem with it anyway.” he adds with an amused smirk, remembering Lily’s previous comment about your notes

You mask your chuckle with a cough and glance at your notes again.

“That is actually a great idea, Pads, I might have to start doing it myself.”

“NO!”

The lot of you was startled by James’ whisper-shout. You gave him a bewildered look, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Are you alright, big brother?”

“Don’t you dare. I know you and your disturbingly brilliant mind. If you start implementing this method, you’re going to write your notes in Latin” he squints, an accusatory look in his eyes “and where am I going to get my last minute notes from then?”

That was it, you couldn’t hold it in any longer if you tried. You burst out laughing, prompting an exaggerated “SHHH” to be directed your way.

“This is your last warning, if you cannot keep quiet, I suggest you move your little study session to your Common Room.”

Madame Pince was stern, yet you couldn’t fault her this time. You were loud and you certainly disturbed a few of your peers seated at nearby tables.

“Sorry” you whisper with a sheepish look.

You returned your attention to the table just in time to catch Lily placing a sweet kiss on James’ cheek, mumbling “don’t worry, my love, I won’t leave you noteless” which seemed to lift his spirits immediately. As grossed out as you were by their affection sometimes (what are sisters for after all?), you couldn’t help but smile at the scene. You were really happy he found his better half, even if it happened to be one of your best friends.

But after all, you did return the favour, did you not?

Remus’ hand found yours under the table and he squeezed it affectionately. You squeezed right back and smiled up at him, mouthing “I love you” and delighting in the beautiful smile that took over his face for the rest of the day.

[cuubism]

this instagram reel made me think so strongly of a human AU viktor that I had to write a little ficlet about it

--

Normally, the fact that Jayce is such a light sleeper is a problem. Being easily awoken by any rain, wind, traffic, Cait traipsing in at midnight after going to see Vi, his own anxious thoughts--it's not beneficial to his sanity. Today, though. Today, he's grateful for it, because it means he wakes up at 4am when his phone buzzes with two Snap messages in quick succession.

Blearily, he opens the app, squinting against the bright light of the screen. There are really only two people in the world who send him snaps, and Cait is asleep in the other room of their shared apartment. Which means it's Viktor.

It takes him a second to even comprehend what he's seeing.

Viktor seems to be reclining in a hospital bed, shirt open over his bare chest which is covered with various wires stuck to the skin, an IV in the back of his hand and a heart monitor clipped to his finger. Despite all this, he's throwing up a peace sign with his free hand and the look he's giving the camera is downright sultry, his dark undereye circles almost giving the impression of a smoky eye.

I lived, bitch, the text over the photo says.

Jayce rapidly taps through to the next one.

Similar photo, but now the text reads, It's giving Consumption core, whatever the fuck that means.

It doesn't sound much like Viktor but hopefully that means someone's there with him, even if they're just taking photos instead of, you know, helping.

Nevertheless, Jayce vaults out of bed, pulling on the nearest clothes and grabbing his keys and-- because Viktor is sick or hurt or having a flare up or God knows what-- rushing out of his bedroom.

He's scrambling so much that he trips over the rug in the living room and goes down, hitting a side table with his shoulder and knocking the lamp on it onto the floor with a clatter. Fuck. He pushes himself to his feet again and--

The light in Cait's room goes on. Vi opens the door, rubbing her eyes. "What the fuck, man."

"Sorry," Jayce says, abandoning the fallen table in favor of shoving his feet into his shoes. "I gotta go, Viktor's in the hospital and--"

"What?" Cait emerges behind Vi. "Is he okay?"

"I think so? He sent me a snap so--"

Vi picks up Jayce's phone from where it's fallen to the floor and studies the picture. "Sounds like Jinx is with him." She tilts her head. "Kind of a good photo. Hot."

"Vi." Cait takes the phone and gives it back to Jayce. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, he wouldn't want everyone crowding." Viktor hadn't even specifically asked Jayce to come but like hell is he not going to. "I gotta-- I need to go--"

"Alright, be safe," Cait says, and Jayce is already rushing out the door.

While on the bus to the hospital, he texts Viktor directly. Are you okay??

The singularity is near, Jayce, Viktor writes back. I'm ever closer to transcending biology. I am composed of so many wires now; soon they will replace my veins entirely.

Jayce can't tell if the fact that he's typing in coherent sentences means he's okay or if the fact he's expounding on futurology at four in the morning from a hospital bed means he's not okay.

I like you not composed of wires, he replies.

Too late, Viktor says. I did try to explain to them that this is normal but they insisted on all of the wires.

Pretty sure it's not *normal*, Jayce says.

On the plus side, this hospital isn't stingy with the good drugs.

Jesus Christ. That explains the philosophizing.

Excuse you, I can do it perfectly well sober.

Should have brought you your Fuller novel the way people bring stuffed animals to the hospital. You could hold it for comfort while you fall asleep.

You are coming? says Viktor.

Yeah, Jayce says, of course I'm coming.

~

Technically, Jayce is Viktor's emergency contact, but there's still been issues getting in to see him in the past since Jayce is "not family." But apparently, Viktor had Jinx tell the hospital front staff that he was allowed in, because this time they direct him right to Viktor's room when he arrives.

Viktor is sitting up in bed when he gets there, indeed attached to a lot of wires, though a nurse is taking some of them off so they must have finished some tests. This is a different hospital bed, an actual room rather than the temporary ER situation he seemed to have been in in the photo before, which is not a good sign, though at least it hopefully means Viktor will be discouraged from leaving before its safe for him to do so.

The nurse passes Jayce in the doorway as she leaves, and Viktor turns to him, offering a wan smile. He looks tired, but then, he always looks tired lately.

Jinx is indeed there, perched on the end of the bed like a gargoyle. She waves at Jayce. "See, I told you my messages would get him to come."

"Some messages," Jayce says, sitting in the chair by Viktor's bed. Viktor looks at him curiously, and Jayce hands over his phone.

Viktor studies the snaps, and rubs his forehead tiredly. "Jinx, I asked you to text Jayce, not send hospital boudoir, or whatever this is." He peers closer at the messages. "Hm. They are good photos, though."

"Told ya."

"Viktor. Are you okay?" Jayce asks, pocketing his phone again. He takes Viktor's hand between both of his own, rubbing his knuckles.

"Just a flare up," Viktor says. Sure, Jayce thinks, 'just.' "Truthfully--do not gloat--I've been up too late and I got dehydrated, and I'm sure that exacerbated things."

"We were on a roll," Jinx complains. "There's no time for sleep when you're in the zone."

"Hm, until there suddenly is," Viktor says brightly. "I am okay, Jayce, truly."

"Alright. I was worried." And, carefully, he lifts Viktor's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles.

This thing between them--it's still new and tentative. More tentative from Jayce's end, really, he's always worried about mucking it up. But he tries to remind himself that nothing's really changed, they're still the same friends that they've always been. They just... do other stuff, too.

Well, and Jinx is now sending him photos of Viktor looking like the star of a vampire romance film.

"I'm going to get snacks," Jinx declares unsubtly, climbing off the bed and heading for the door.

"The vending machine has Taki's," Viktor calls helpfully as she leaves.

"How do you know that?" Jayce asks.

"I've been here before."

Of course.

Jayce sighs, pressing his forehead to their joined hands.

"You know," Viktor says, "if you were not able to bring me a book to cuddle. Am I allowed a you to cuddle?"

"I'm pretty sure that's against the rules."

"Meh, rules," Viktor says, dismissively. "What will they do, kick me out?"

"Kick me out," Jayce says.

"They won't," Viktor says, with such certainty that Jayce somehow believes him.

So he climbs into the hospital bed beside Viktor, arranging him carefully around all the wires and connections. Viktor curls into his side, resting his head on Jayce's shoulder.

"Thank you for coming," Viktor murmurs.

"Of course." Jayce can't imagine not coming as soon as he got that message. Even if Viktor thinks it's all unremarkable and normal. Viktor being in pain is never not going to make him drop everything and run. Even if that means he has to do a hell of a lot of running.

"You know," Viktor says. "The future of disembodied cloud consciousness does have a shortcoming."

"Oh, yeah? Only one?"

Viktor tsks, poking his arm. "It occurs to me that without a body it would be difficult to appreciate my personal furnace here."

Jayce squeezes him tighter. "Maybe your future disembodied consciousness will just have to have a temperature sensor. Might as well give it a pressure sensor too... oh wait, I think we might be circling back around to a body..."

"Perhaps it is not all bad to have a body," Viktor sighs. "Only mostly."

"Only mostly," Jayce agrees, kissing the top of his head.

--

two books referenced obliquely in this:

The Singularity is Near by Ray Kurzweil

Operating Manual for Spaceship Earth by R Buckminster Fuller

I think Viktor would be into them.

[theminecraftbee]

"You let me think you were dead, you know."

Jimmy winces, but he doesn't turn around to look at Grian, or Cuteguy, or whatever he's going by right now. He considers just walking away. He considers a lot of things, but he doesn't expect he'll be able to, because--

"Don't walk away from me, Jimmy."

When Jimmy turns around, Grian's only half-dressed as Cuteguy, wearing no goggles, the paints he uses to disguise his wings slowly bleeding out, streaks of bold pink and black dripping down otherwise dull brown patterns. Jimmy takes a moment to stare. He's not quite sure which name he's supposed to be calling the man in front of him. On the one hand, he's not wearing the goggles, his dark eyes fully visible to the world. On the other hand, he's still wearing most of the clothes, and there's escrima sticks still hanging from his belt, and while the paint is fading it's still right there, hiding the patterns that make the wings identifiable as Grian.

Jimmy shifts uncomfortably. "I did," he says, finally.

"You let me think you were shot in the head in front of me," Cuteguy says.

"That, uh, did happen," Jimmy says. Cuteguy gestures at Jimmy. Jimmy swallows. "Look, uh, it's not like it was super fun for me to wake up in the morgue either."

"You could have said something!" Cuteguy says. "You could have--you could have just, just rung me up and, and said--"

"Sorry man, it turns out that you getting me killed got undone?" Jimmy says, equally quietly, and Grian reels back in the same way that Jimmy imagines he must have when he was shot, too.

"Timmy," Grian says.

"I mean, I don't actually really blame you that much at this point," Jimmy says. "I don't really--it's not exactly your fault someone else shot us. I'm--I mean, I'm not happy with--you call him Forgery. Not so happy he didn't know that--yeah. But it's still a little... I did die, you know."

"You should have said something," Cuteguy says.

"I'm still kinda dead," Jimmy says.

"Timmy, I--I thought you were dead. I thought I wasn't ever--I'm sorry," Grian says.

"Oh," Jimmy says, because he's not sure what else to say. He both did and didn't expect an apology. It is, after all, Grian; it is, after all, Grian.

"I'm sorry, I'm--I was just, just yelling at you again because I was scared, because, because you're one of my best friends, and, and you were dead, Timmy. You were dead."

Jimmy's not sure what to say, or which of the person in front of him said that. He's fairly certain it's Grian. He's also fairly certain the world is grey and blurry again, and he has to take deep breaths, digging his fingers into his palms and trying very hard to remember that it's not really Cuteguy's fault, or even really Forgery's; until then, neither of them had understood how dangerous it was, either.

But it's not them that faced the consequences, is it?

Joel says it's fair to be angry. It's fair to blame them. Jimmy doesn't know that it is.

"I was dead," agrees Jimmy.

"Not going to say anything else?" Grian asks.

"No," Jimmy says.

Grian stares, and then it is most certainly Cuteguy who pulls himself together, shakes his wings until his feathers are straighter, and puts on a face that betrays nothing of the heartbreak or confusion or hurt he's feeling. Jimmy does, absolutely, hate it.

"Actually, I just wish... I don't know, man. Never mind," Jimmy says.

(He hates the way he doesn't recognize his own best friend some days nearly as much as he hates the way he doesn't recognize himself.)

Cuteguy stares for a long moment.

"Yeah, me too," he says. "Do... do you wanna come get sushi at that one weird place you like? Where you have the weird rivalry with that one server?"

"He insists salmon is the best sushi fish, and is absolutely wrong," Jimmy says primly, and then he nods, and even Cuteguy can't help but betray his relief.

They walk side-by-side, together. It doesn't really matter who they are now.

[lesmiix]

HELLO POOOKIE

Can i ask for hyun-ju with a partner who loves to buy her things? Like dresses, makeup, perfumes, you name it ;3

thank you 🙏🙏

Hiiii!! thank you so much for such a sweet request! 😭🫶

Summary: Your gf is broken so you buy her everything she wants (and more).

Warnings: Just fluff, no use of y/n, g/n reader.

author's note: English is not my first language so, sorry if there's any mistake😞 Hope you enjoy it!!

Hyun-ju x g/n reader!

Hyun-ju was never the kind of person who would spend a lot of money on herself, as she already spends a lot of her money on her transition, so she wouldn't give herself the gifts she would like.

You knew about that since you met, when you both went shopping you noticed how she admired the cute dresses placed on the mannequins.

Anytime you asked her if she liked it, she would always answer with a simple "it's cute" and look away, too ashamed with herself for not being able to buy it.

"Are you sure you don't want it? It'd look amazing on you" You said while looking at the tight black dress in front of her.

"I don't know my lov-" She started, but you cut her off. "Try it on at least? I'll pay for it" You said excitedly, at first she denied it, but you, being so insistent, finally gave in.

You knew about her economical situation so you offered to buy her the stuff she wanted so much, but she always denied. She didn't like the thought of you spending too much money on her.

One time you both were shopping at Sephora, because you really needed to buy some products. As you were looking around the shop trying to find them, out of the corner of your eye you saw Hyun-ju in the perfume section, spraying her wrist with a perfume bottle to smell them one by one.

"Any that you like?" You asked her, while hugging her by from behind, wrapping your arms around her waist.

"This one actually smells amazing, but it's way too expensive, maybe I'll come next month when I get paid". She said, putting the perfume back in it's place.

Some minutes later, when Hyun-ju was distracted, you picked it up and put it in your bag to pay for it later and give it to her when you got home.

...

"I have a little gift for you" You said while handing her the little box with a golden print. Her eyes widened as she opened the present.

"Honey, you didn't have to" She started

"Shhh it's okay, a little gift (40$😞) won't hurt"

I have the feeling that she would LOVE makeup, but like she would be obsessed with it, loving how she looks when she wears this thin black eyeliner (she'd be SO good at it btw) but of course, almost all of the good quality makeup brands cost like an eyeball, so she would have the most basic stuff. But you love her and want to see her happy, so ofc you would buy her anything she laid her eyes on.

"Darling, don't you think you already bought me enough stuff?" She asked while you picked a Rare Beauty lipgloss and two different blushes.

"You'll pay me when we get back home" You teased while letting a soft peak on her lips.

At the end of those little dates, you would be carrying thousands of bags filled with just gifts for your dear girlfriend.

When the two of you get back to your shared apartment, you would make her try all the cute dresses, skirts and crop tops you bought her.

"You look gorgeous my love" You said while admiring your girlfriend, who was looking at herself in the mirror with a little cute smirk on her face.

Of course she would thank you with a little make out session.

"Thank you for everything baby, I loved it" She muttered as she gently pressed her lips against yours.

a/n: It's 1 am and I'm so so so tired but I can't sleep 😭

Anyway, I hope you guys liked it!!!

Requests for Hyun-ju are always open🫶

[sunflower1experiment]

Trust in me

Risk

What have you done?

Lower, lower, and stop in front of the playtime care, walking beside Harley in silence when you both walk by the toys, they cower or hiss. Kneeling down to their level to get a better look at the children, you hold one of the smaller critters. That was when Catnap came to view, he leaned in with a head tilt, you rubbed a hand over his head with careful poise, leaning into your hand the giant toy breathed out, Red...smoke...

"Enough." Harley orders and you both split apart, so the follow continues, "Who is that?"

"Theodore." It was quiet but he was prideful and held no remorse while you stared at each toy with a sad gaze, it was beside you. Any other time you held a gaze of firm animosity for every scientist who mistreated the toys. Scolding, yelling, even demonstrating the pain the toys experienced. But this is beyond you, Mommy and Huggy were easy access to your kind words and gentle touch. But these toys, these children, are out of reach.

Out of your hands, "Earth to my dear partner."

"Oh, sorry I was just spacing out."

"You seem to be doing that often." You both go silent knowing that this would wedge a rift if no one spoke, so you get ready to plead, but he cuts you off. "Listen, just because you cater to that bleeding heart of yours doesn't mean it'll save you from this moral veil you hide behind. You aren't the only one who had their moral compass challenged, and you will not be the last. I'm doing this because these orphans deserve better, I'm giving them better. Elliot didn't understand but you will soon enough."

He walks further ahead while your unshed tears begin to slide down your face, "......"

The walk was quieter than ever, the fight, flight, freeze or fawn triggers were rising in the head. All you can think of was, "Stop wallowing" or "Huggy is being patient for you." He was, wasn't he?

What have you done?

You first met Huggy, it was frightening, what happened to this toy? "What did you do?"

"We were training him; he's shown signs of complete obedience and respect.."

"Are you daft!? Damn it, he's practically seething!" You open the cell, bringing in a basket filled with fruits. "What are you doing!?"

Eddie tried to open the cell, but you continued your job, placing the basket down, holding Huggy's paw and then feeding the bigger toy. "You, okay?" He was quiet...

Unblinking, unmoving, he ate the apple, then the fruits after, and afterwards the giant toy was showing you his scars, so you wrap a bandage around them. "....."

It was irritating, to see these toys, above, below...

How much lower does this go?

That memory was so far behind, Eddie was furious, and you simply didn't care. Now that you know the truth, how dare he show signs of fury!? You're no better, the sinking feeling and the idea to manipulate Harley to be gentler. How stupid.

"Ya know, Elliot has a daughter. Poppy....she's further up, you and Poppy didn't meet yet, but I don't plan to let you both meet." Sawyer's words cut deep, he knew you well enough to know that if Poppy had any chance to whisper any form of the truth, you'd lose your mind.

What have you done?

That suspicion reaching your eyes, it made Harley shudder with excitement, he adores the reactions. The nights spent together, the breakfasts, or times you'd visit his place just to cook him some food or sometimes give him a loving break.

Spoiled is what he is, and he didn't even realize how badly this was hurting you and him both.

When you both went back up, the critters crawled up and you knelt down, hugging one of them. It was then Harley realized something, he noticed your gentle demeanor, somber smile, the way you cradled this critter...

"You're pregnant."

You try to avoid giving an obvious reaction, but the way his hands held your face, his fingers move to the back of your ears. He was searching for a pulse; you blink then chuckle out weakly. "Of course not, silly! I just really wanted to adopt Quinn, He's very sweet. Precious too."

He hums in thought, "Stella told me."

That made it skip two beats, and he was back to his calm apathetic demeanor. "So, when did you plan to tell me?"

"I...I don't know." You turn ahead as if that would even matter.

"You should have told me."

"Why?" Harley sighs as if he was tired of hearing you question his nuance, he suddenly snaps.

"Because it makes you more sentimental, your bleeding heart is already interrupting my handwork, because that simply means you're having our child, and it most of all means you are being a threat to yourself and this unborn life." You wince at each word, ignoring the rising tears that you blink away.

"I wouldn't have to put myself at risk if you weren't actively lying and manipulating me. But who am I kidding, I'm no better, those toys, those children. They were looking up to us, to Elliot. I'm not perfect but my worst mistake was letting you into my heart." The train stops, and you both go your separate ways.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

TW//bleeding, miscarriage, adoption plans, signs of depression (If you or a loved one is experiencing anything like this, seek help or call a trusted adult/loved one/ take the chance to therapy)

You were so stupid, it's all your fault, yes, your fault.

The metal floors clank with fury while you march past Stella, Leith, more scientists, Stella notices your angry tears and she follows.

"Hey- Hey!" She holds your face, while you sniffle weakly. "....Did..."

The woman looks at your stomach, then you while those unshed tears fall once more. "Oh..." She hugs you close, "It's okay."

"No, it's not..."

When you reach the door, her door....

"Poppy."

You open the door.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

Walking inside this playhouse, you see the doll. "Poppy."

She turns with her giant doll-like eyes, staring in fear of being hurt again, but you merely kneel down and hug her close. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Poppy didn't know what to say, are you a friend? Did Ollie....no.

You continue hugging her.

She told you everything, Elliot, Harley, Quinn, all these children...Ollie.

The stress was enough to create such a dark mindset, in the back of your mind you weren't any better.

Rich noticed the signs carefully placing a hand on your shoulder, "Hey, um...try not to let this place get to you."

"It's fine Rich, you don't have to comfort me. Especially with the privileges I have compared to you, yea." It was true but so what!? Rich knew that, yet he still cared, the idea was simply that you were grieving.

"Ya know, I loved that boy. Quinn, I cherished him as if he were my own. Then I stupidly...." You look at the cameras, letting more tears cascade down.

No amount of comfort could save you, even with how stressful things were getting.

Prototype acknowledged that the third time you visit him, "liFE gROwS wItHin....YOu, aRe not Happy?"

"No, I'm not..." His hand holds yours; a twisted form of comfort arises, he wasn't one of them and yet...his voice, Harley's voice.

You found comfort in them, ".....Catnap, in one of the files I read, he mentioned a further...down..."

"tHe pRIsOn..."

The prison, your eyes widen...No, no no..

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

Prototype knew what he was doing, surely you didn't.

Harley slams his fist down, "What have you done!?" He shouts, "What did you tell them!?"

Prototype chuckles darkly at Harley's anger, thriving off his agony even if it meant you were the one suffering. To Prototype you were indeed, no different than the rest, which is why you needed to find out the hard way.

You stare at this creature, files on the side, holding your stomach while Yarnaby breathes heavily through his cell. Unable to recognize you, Quinn, could not see the person who was so excited to take him in. Share the sweet life of home with Harley, what a stupid naive dream!

As you move further, you see Doey, and your mind races back to things you brushed off. "Experiment 1322 A and B.." Then to the accident, you were here long enough to acknowledge the dough incident. "Jack.." What of his parents?

Doey looks at you in confusion while you feel sweat beads going down your face, sensing your stress he begins to knock on the window, as if to warn the scientist. But no avail, suddenly you were on the ground, cradling your now shaking form.

Scientists only stopped when you were on the ground, the immediate thought was to call Stella.

You feel something...pain...contraption, Stella was beside you, once more hugging your feeble form. She breathes heavily, "How far- Hey. How far along was it!?"

"......T-Two months." Stelle sweats, while she anxiously orders for you to be taken to a lab.

Hours would pass, and she was on the floor weeping, sniffling with self-loathing. She had this chance to send you to the hospital, hell frame Harley or give up the evidence...but Lieth remains on her mind, his words. Their miracle working goal...

Now all she could remember was the blood curdling screams of anguish you let out; they filled the room. Her ears keep ringing as they start to turn into cries and then voices of another scientist trying to comfort you. Whispers upon rumors fill the prison and laboratory.

"Why would he do that?"

"What was even going on in their head?"

They blamed him, then you, then they'd call you ignorant or naive..

Privileged, Stella remembered when you tried so hard to protect that sweet bliss of hers. Keeping a smile, even sugarcoating Harley's words while she was a bit offended by his remarks. She remembered when you placed a yellow daisy in her vase, she enjoyed those a lot.

Her mind then went to Harley's when he placed that Tuberose, that Poppy flower, you tried so hard to protect her, and she failed you.

Harley had to cover this up, he sat beside the medical examination bed, while you say nothing. "I- didn't expect you to.."

"Be so naive?"

He sighs with regret of spilling out those words, "You didn't expect me to want to adopt Quinn?"

Harley merely covers his face while you list out more things that contradicted his work, for you to acknowledge your own flaws merely simply made it worse.

"I love you." Harley weakly responds, now holding your hand. "I should've just transferred or-"

"Fired me? Or baby trap me?" No not that that was cruel and just, uncalled for. It would be disgusting; he's seen cases like those. So, have you and for you to say that it made him want to cringe at the idea.

"I don't hate you Harley, I'm just disappointed in myself for falling for the facade I made up about you."

Harley stays silent when he realizes his perspective didn't match yours, his...you...

he failed; you were his failed experiment. He'd have to live with that forever.

When he left, Stella came in and hugged your hand to her head with sadness. You both were silent; it was a sad comfortable silence.

One week later and a Peony was resting in your vase, Stella's had a Yellow Carnation and Harley's had a butterfly weed.

Things were tense as they should be, Leith expected this but to find out the reason. He was disappointed rather than snarky about the incident, so he placed a white rose in the vase. You look at him while he walks away.

To him you were the one scientist he despised, not because of envy, or hatred, or disdain, but because he knew someone of your caliber and heart would get torn apart by Harley. Whether Harley wanted to or not, that was what made Leith, and you clash, he was usually bemused with your interaction with the toys.

He just wishes he could have stopped you in time.

[imsofreakingtired]

hihihihiiiii can you make more of Sevika x Masc reader, I just read it, and I'm sorry to say I'm now ADDICTED!!! Scenario: Sev and Masc reader encounter a cockroach, and fight over who's NOT gonna kill it (they're both scared little girls squealing, and convincing eachother to kill it. They moved out) ORR, ORR, ORRR Sevika x masc reader, where Sevika is jealous and possessive over reader, and reader is the same to her. I NEED MOREEEEEE (I'm sorry I'm so hyped, I love this, please make more if u have time hehe 🙏) -I'm just a really deprived butch4butch girl who's not above begging 🎀🎀🎀

absolutely i am also starved for mascxmasc content 😩

Sevika x masc!reader pt 3

pt 1 pt 2

________

on nights out it’s always a fight for your life because there are girls coming left and right trying to hook up with either of you. Sevika finds it funny because they always assume the two of you are just two masc lesbian friends out looking for some action, but she never gives them so much as a glance. when someone is really insistent, she’ll give them a half smirk and say “thanks doll, but I’m spoken for,” nodding in your direction where you’re glaring at the girl across the table gripping the cup so tight it might shatter.  on the other hand, sometimes you like to tease Sevika. when the girls come over to flirt with you, you entertain them, leaning forward, touching their hair, letting them try on your rings. you know nothing gets Sevika off like jealousy. you like to watch her seethe out of the corner of your eye as the girl gives you a whiff of the perfume on her neck. you know that the minute she gets you alone that night there’ll be hell to pay, and god are you looking forward to it. 

one day you hear a huge clatter in the kitchen while Sevika’s making dinner and you jump up and run over, thinking she hurt herself. you find her withdrawn to the corner of the room, breathing hard, staring at a huge roach on the floor, cocking its antennae as if aware of the terror it inflicts on her. “sevika, what the fuck, are you okay??” “quick. kill it,” she says, pointing at the roach. “kill it before it gets away.”  that’s when you see the bug. you let out a scream and practically jump back into her. “i’m not touching that! you’re the butch here!” “oh so suddenly i’m the big strong masc?” the roach skitters a few steps towards you. you scream again. you can feel every fight-or-flight instinct being jolted in Sevika’s body.  “fine. FINE!” you take a shoe from the foyer and tentatively move towards the roach, shoe raised. when it moves, you lose your nerve.  “what if we just moved, Sevika.”

on days when she comes home late from work stressed and frustrated from a problem she can't work out you grab her hand and pull her into the hall without a word, push her up against the wall, and fuck her till her knees go weak and her thoughts fade into nothing. then you walk away to cook dinner like nothing happened

she doesn't like movies unless you're watching them with her, but she will get heavily invested in true crime documentaries and you will not be getting any attention in the two hours she is watching the docs and yelling at the screen as if the detectives can hear her

you like the texture of her buzzcut hair at the base of her head so when she lies with her head in your lap you rub behind her ear with your thumb like she's a dog and it always makes her fall asleep

the two of you are like dumb & dumber when it comes to buying gifts for female relatives or femme friends because you'll both walk into a sephora looking for a specific piece of makeup they requested, walk around as if you know where you're going, then leave muttering something about ordering it online

Sevika is like a kid on Christmas morning in a hardware store. you have to physically drag her away from each aisle. "Sevika, for the last time, we don't need to renovate our sink, we're here for fucking LIGHTBULBS." (she will also mysteriously discover all of a sudden that she needs three new wrenches and a drill)

she gets awful period cramps and calls you an animal for working out on your period (maybe i'm projecting here) "do you enjoy torturing yourself??" "running helps with the cramps." "come a little closer and say that to me again..."

she's the "in-bed-with-a-good-book-by-10pm" older butch and you're the "i'm-on-my-6th-cup-of-coffee-and-whenever-i-pass-out-next-is-purely-up-to-the-gods" younger masc. she gets up at one point in the night to use the bathroom and sees you learning a choreography in the living room because you randomly decided to teach yourself to dance. she just stares at you in sleepy disbelief in her boxers and tank top. Sevika: it's 3am. You: aww, your hair's all messed up. cutie patootie. Sevika: Sevika: *slowly turns and walks back into the bedroom* (she isn't entirely sure if she dreamed the whole thing or not.)

on formal nights out: she's the tux, shirt, dress pants, shoes combo and you're the blazer with a bra underneath combo. it drives her insane how hot you look. "baby, that blazer is not making it through the night." "i sure fucking hope not."

when Sevika walks down the streets at night she tends to scare the women a little because she's 6 foot fucking 1, very masc presenting, and wears hoodies and leather jackets. to remedy this she has begun tying gay ribbons to the belt loops of her jeans "vika, i don't think anyone'll be able to even notice those." "it's the thought that counts." "no-"

Sevika always being the tough butch at her workplace with her poker face and relentless efficiency. you come in one day to surprise her at work and find her telling off an employee about some mistake, and it's lowkey both scary and hot as hell. it's also a little funny since you're so used to seeing her all soft and needy at home, because you're the only one she feels safe enough to let her guard down for.

~~~

thanks @shanesevikasfuckdoll for the req :)

[simpingforbots]

hiiii i hope you're fine,I'm really intrigued to know what the tfone transformers think about their silly human being in the sun for a few hours and getting burned, like.

The human is on his robot's shoulder, but from one moment to the next he turns his head to see the little friend and they see that his color has changed a little.

personally because I burned a lot this summer.

(I'm sorry if something is written wrong, English is my second language, I love how you write)

Hello! I am doing alright, hope you are doing fine your self. I knwo the feeling as i burn quickly as well and i know how it is to deal with it.

Sun or no sun?

Leaving underground is not much of a trouble to creatures that made out of metal as they do not require sunlight to function, but something that is organic - it was one of a few necessities just to be able to function properly. First time Orion found out about it, he panicked and kept thinking that he was hurting you by keeping here, with him. It was already dangerous for you to be in mines, let alone surrounded by someone who’s bigger and harder then you. Hell, he even considered to give you up to some reach snob so that you be safer, but the idea of you being in hands of someone like them made his spark churn with disgust and D-16 quickly shut it down, not wanting to even hear Orion’s worries. So to “subsidise” the lost light you needed, he did a little research and got you a small fake sun light lamp, that sort of provided necessary “D” vitamin. On top of that he made sure to get other supplements and that you took them daily. You such a weird little thing, needing so much just to be able to function, and yet they still cared about you very much, no matter how hard taking care of you can be.

When they managed to get up on the surface and survive the train crash with only few scrapes and bruises, you were finally on the surface. D-16 and Orion wath you run around for a bit, enjoying the life of the surface no longer confound to you small den and the limited places they could take you, able to move freely and breath without trouble before Orion picked you up and steeled on your shoulder before continuing on their journey for the Matrix of Leadership, pondering out loud about what will happen afterward. You seamed to also enjoy your natural sunlight, leaning back a bit, not worrying about anything and letting warm sun light land on your skin. At first they did not notise anything, but after some time B-126 was first to see the change in your skin colour.

“Hey, is your little organic pet thing always able to change colour?! This is so COOL? How are they doing it? Can they be yellow? I thingk yellow will look good on them! Can they change their eyes to? What bout the strange thing on their head?” Bee waltz in front of Orion, his eyes glowing with curiosity as he pointed at you. Scared, D-16 quickly grabbed you and held in fron of him self, staring at you and trying not to panic. Your skin was a bit darker, lightly, but noticeable when your little fabric on your body shifted, showing a lighter tone line.

“Is this normal?” Orion asked, looking at you as well, moving your hair away from your shoulders to able to see a strange condition that you seamed to be indifferent to.

“Do I look like I know?” D-16 grumbled a bit, lifting your little hand to see anything else. “Maybe it’s normal for them. But I think we should hurry up”

And back on the shoulder you go, this time under carful surveillance of your “caretaker” bots, who seemed to be warry and did their best to shield you from to much light, but they can only do this much. Sending entire day in direct sun, with no protection, caused your skin to became red and by the night fall you seamed to be going in and out of conciseness. The trouble did not end here as the very next day you were letting chirps of distress and any touch, even light one, caused you a lot of pain and a strange bubbles that appeared on your body to pop, leaking some kind of coolant. D-16 got very concerned with this, trying to carry you while shielding from the light, refusing to let you rest on his shoulder now, grimacing every time you shifted, making your self hurt even more. Orion tried to brain storm what could be causing this yet he can only guess as he did not had access to any research and only hope is that you can push through, with only breaks coming at nights and cold air cooling you a bit. When they reached the green area of the planet, hiding beneath the shade of huge trees, you seemed to relax even more and it was decided to have a little break. B-126 tried to play with you, yet you were in to much pain to even move on your won, just wanting nothing but rest and try get better. D-16 could see it and had to shoo B away so that you can rest all while Orion disappeared off to somewhere, babbling about trying to find somrhitng he read in archives, promising and praying to Primes that he is correct. Another whimpered escaped your little body as you shifted, wrapping your self in the fabric you had on your body, shivering and letting another pained moan. Grumbling to him self, D-16 tried not to move you to much. You are so small and fragile, it’s a miracle that you were able to survive on your own planet. The thunder on the gorund signalled that Orion found what ever he was looking for, quickly kneeling down showing his findings – some water and a leaf that leaked a lot.

“It will help them. I remember reading that organics need liquids to be able to function. Back at Iacon we had enough of it, but not here. I hope this helps” he mumbled on, breaking the leaf even more and lifting your covers to smother the sticky substance al over the red areas. D-16 shuddered at the feeling of it on his servo alone, yet seeing you relax a bit and no longer in much pain, decided to suck it up. Orion quckly finished up, tossing the leaf aside and brought another leaf with water in it to you, slowly making you drink it, with two bots making sure that you will make it and you will be alright, finally letting two bots pet you.

[dia-oro]

Mama dia, all I ever wish for is a imagines or head cannon of the chain with like a super motherly almost mother hen reader that just love to spoil them with affection, gift and LOTS of food to the point of them just being little round balls you know? ᵒ̴̶̷̥́ ·̫ ᵒ̴̶̷̣̥̀ It just seem so so cute to me even tho she is probably younger that some of them which surprise them at first probably (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

well, I'm happy to serves! I am all for mothering reader because they deserve some affection and you know acts of appreciation to remind them they are worthy of love. :) But let's beginning! I hope you like it and sorry for answer late.

The chain with a mothering? A person that give them the acceptance and approval as well protect and encouraging them? What did you think there's going to happened? They will be all like that stray cat that everybody call feral but they are all hurt person that live traumatic after traumatic even and people at their surroundings are like 'but it's your duty' and look to the other side dismissing the links feelings well, they be really like stray- once upon abandoned animals, reader kindred burn them because they have already been hurt so much so this will be a process of patience and no losing hope...

Let start with one fine mess as legend with a mothering reader- snarkiness at 200% of power, he will try to discouraged you to be close, to care, he will be a bunny ready to beatbox you- seven adventure, losing his uncle, Marin... This man need affection with no second intentions but also fear it so bad, probably think he curse or something. So reader gentle hands curing his cuts and burn will burn more than any fireball, every gentle words make his eyes stink and just one day- slowly, silently his tone lost any fire in his remark, his bedroll got a little more close to reader, if they got to stay in a inn and they share bed to save rupees he unconscious will move his body in his sleep closer, he will be the first ready for a meal made by reader and when he hurt and needed someone to take him back to the camp he will just let his guard down the moment he feel reader arm over his back... The biggest treasure for him will be a sweater one of those ugly ones like Christmas that reader made for him- he didn't even dare to put some magic in it to protect it- because being made by reader is already magic for him.

Hyrule, another feral stray animal here- but more like that one of the videos that suffered from a severed wound or is handicap by accident and abandoned just to be save by someone yeah that type of feral animal- the distrustful one but in silence- reader is just too good and they have been hurt by smiling person so much- but a difference of legend he doesn't snark, growl or try to discourage you... He just got that heartbroken look in their eyes, so wounded and at the first sweet caress in their cheek and a goodnight kiss in their forehead? He crying till his sleep, every clap of hand and congratulations for his efforts will almost make him talk in bell like sounds like some fairy- almost transform so he can be close to you but don't be catch being so he can care for you as you care for him, sing to him to his sleep and he be purring, reader mothering is something he need because how little love he had ever feel even more- how little he is still care in his world, he may be Hyrule Hero but they don't deserve him for sure. A older reader may even be take as their parental figure that he never have and very much needed. A young one? The poor kid will wonder if this what LOVE is.

Warriors, in this house paranoid and distrust is his thing, even more with act of kindred- like you see the only person with self proclaimed 'acts of love' was Cia and you know how fucked up that was. But he will try to act as smooth he can, your dresser will be take with caution, hugs make him tense, he will try to analyze you and- he will be so confused, why you're so gentle? Why you sing lullaby to both legend and time at night?? Why you're making so much delicious food?? Somehow reader food is even better than wild, even a simple sandwich will be heaven for this man, a hug? He will adore then and got very whiny if there's no one or three per day- if reader is woman, well, congrats because reader is the first woman that make him feel safe, female affection that didn't give him a panic attack.

You know wind will start to call 'mom' or 'dad' reader right? All he have is his Grammy and sisters but reader just take him back to a time that he was safe and protected and didn't have to be the protector. Now reader is supply that role and just he notice it when he was attack and trapped and a instinct deep inside made him call for reader and the next he knew is that reader was fucking running over the head of Monsters, tearing them apart and just telling him he be okay. now he always taking you to see what he just think was cool from a bird to a insect that didn't exist in his era, reader will sing to him sometimes shanties with him, sometimes even sky join with his arp, mother hen reader is the reason the Grammy is no worry for him to go to multiverse adventures.

Sky, dear sky need all that mothering right now, he miss his fiance (I want to think sky and Zelda got to that far in their relationship, that hylia scheme for the demise endgame didn't break or weaker their relationship but make both stronger) so hugs from reader, singing duet even if they didn't sing very good will be all he needed, kisses on his forehead as goodnight or just indulge in love for wood carving and buy him a professional set to carving?? Have for sure his firstborn will have reader name for it all.

Twilight with a super mothering reader? Him?? The big brother material?! Yes, please light the weight of his shoulder that he put himself in the first place, he so use to be the role model in his village for the kids and honestly he a true role model to a good citizen in all ways- but wild give seven shite that and when know it, he trying, still trying to be like time the problem he forgot he young still too, give him love, hugs and pumpkin soup to twi, is all he needed from motherly reader, to be tell he did good that they are proud of them and even if one day they part ways is no his fault and they still be together in their hearts- this man need so much reassuring and reader is that he needed. Also reader sometimes act as if they can't do a labor so there's this Happy farmhand coming to help so happy to do some labor because is his comfort zone, let him do something that need his strength- the others links rarely need it.

Four, four don't need help- need help X4, motherly reader that know his story will constantly be over his shoulder seeing if he having a migraine, head and shoulder massages are a bless for this man, be platonic or no, he care for our reader dearly for this, even more when he realized that they never underestimate them for his height, giving him some copper and metal and this man is so hapoy- it's all about encouraging any interest he have, yummy food and I will tell you blue will never raise his voice in from reader, period.

Wild, sorry no sorry- reader will be his flora here, no matter the gender, they will be the only thing that make him be in control, mothering more firm but still loving. Want to ride a animal in the camp? Just harmless ones, encourage to do others things like painting his house, making clay thing and more to have his energy and focus on one thing that didn't put his life on danger- didn't always work but already seeing wild inviting the lord of the satori and not a fucking bear to the camp is better than the bear Alone and probably on fire.

Time, I miss my wife 2.0, he a adult, but also a traumatized one, he most time is the adult adult of the group even if he can be worse than legend and wind in his pranks, but when the moon got red in wild era sings and forcing him to look at reader all time while everybody is in safe zone, being reminded he important and love to- or just talking o what to give malón as present means a lot to him, help him with the cucos- sorry no sorry even if you're contemporary to him or minor didn't matter- motherly reader is in his mind a child of his, malon think to and what malon say is law to him so motherly reader will be mothered to.

Hope you like it <\3

[serickswrites]

would you do an alternate ending to “whumpee, the hostage”? where whumpee survives and caretaker gets to apologise to and comfort whumpee? pleaseeee

Hello, Anon! I think you are wanting a sequel to this piece? (At least I hope you are). Please enjoy!

Part 1

Warnings: hostage situation, gunshot, blood, wounds, bleeding out, temporary character death, cpr, hospital, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee

"WHUMPEE!" Caretaker screamed again as their knees gave out. "NOOOO!" They cried as the two uniformed officers held them. Caretaker clutched at their sleeves. "NO!" They were too late. They were right there. Whumpee was right there. They had failed.

Chaos erupted around Caretaker. Multiple shouts and gunshots rang out. People ran around Caretaker and into the bank. But it didn't matter. Caretaker had failed. Caretaker had failed when it had counted the most.

"GET EMS!" Someone shouted. "WE HAVE AN OFFICER DOWN!"

Officer down? Caretaker's head jerked up, their heart pounding. Did that mean?

"EMS STAT! OFFICER DOWN!" The voice repeated.

Caretaker didn't hesitate. They got up on wobbly legs and surged forward. No one stopped them from running into the bank, everyone was too distracted with managing the hostages and bank robbers. They froze as they saw several medics crouched around a prone figure. Whumpee.

"Pressure's dropping," one medic called out.

"I can't get the bleeding to stop." Another replied.

"We're losing them!"

Caretaker stumbled forward. Whumpee. This wasn't happening. Whumpee hadn't died. Whumpee couldn't die. "Whumpee," they said softly as they could finally see Whumpee's face.

Whumpee's features were slack, their face pale. They lay in a pool of their blood, surrounded by medics and other officers. Caretaker could see the bullet wound in their chest. Had the wound been any further to the left, Whumpee would have died instantly when they were shot. As it was, Caretaker wasn't sure how Whumpee was still alive.

"Starting compressions," the first medic said as they began to pump Whumpee's chest.

"Please, Whumpee," Caretaker whispered. "Please don't leave me."

"Give them space," someone said, grabbing Caretaker's arm.

"This is Whumpee's partner. Let them through," someone else said.

Caretaker suddenly found themself just outside the circle of medics, staring down at Whumpee's body. "Please, Whumpee, please don't leave me," they repeated.

"Gotcha!" The first medic said triumphantly. "Let's get them to the hospital before they crash again."

Caretaker was pulled along by one of the medics as the others raced Whumpee out the door. "You're their partner, right? Come with us. You can fill the hospital in on all the information they'll need."

The world felt like it had tilted on its axis and it was all Caretaker could do to keep upright. Some part of them distantly recognized that they were probably in shock, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that Whumpee stay alive.

Somehow, Caretaker found themself sitting at Whumpee's bedside hours later. Whumpee was alive. And would live. The sounds of the heart monitor was a comfort to Caretaker. Whumpee had died. And had nearly stayed dead. And would have died with the last thing Caretaker said to them being horrible.

"I'm sorry I said all those things to you, Whumpee," Caretaker whispered as they took Whumpee's hand in theirs. "I didn't mean it. I'm so sorry. You're not incompetent. You're brilliant. You're amazing. You're the most wonderful person I have ever met. And I was terrified to lose you. I am terrified to lose you.

"I'm terrified to lose you, Whumpee, because I love you. I love you so much. I love you so much and I haven't said anything in case you don't feel the same way. In case you don't love me. But," Caretaker's voice broke, "seeing you lying there on the floor, I realized I never said anything. And I couldn't stand the thought of you dying without knowing how loved you are. So, even if you don't feel the same way, Whumpee. I love you. With every fiber of my being."

Caretaker brushed Whumpee's bangs off their forehead. "And I realize that it's easy to say this while you're unconscious. But, I'll never stop saying this to you. I'll never stop telling you how precious to me you are. How much I need you. Because I love you.

"And so, love, I'll wait here as long as it takes for you to wake. Because I don't want to spend a moment away from you. Not when you were nearly ripped from me before I could tell you how much I love you."

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